Three Seasons to Closure

Chapter 4. The Boss's Daughter's Wedding

A soft rain was pelting the window in Hermione's kitchen as she stood over her sink. She was staring blankly out of the window as she distractedly directed her wand at newly cleaned dishes, sending them flying one by one to the various cupboards to which they belonged.

CRASH

Hermione jolted out of her trance and turned toward the source of the noise. She let out a grunt of frustration upon discovering that her favorite mug had been sent crashing into the hard tile floor. "Right, forgot to open the cupboard door first...my Mother would have a few choice words about the futility of using magic for every little household chore," Hermione thought, chastising herself and slightly amused. After taking a moment to bring her full faculties back into the present, Hermione smoothed her hair back, rubbed her eyes, and set about the business of sweeping up the stoneware chards. It was the day of Harry's boss's daughter's wedding, and Hermione found herself to be quite preoccupied. It had been two weeks since she'd last seen Harry, and she was very much looking forward to spending time with him.

Only she wasn't.

Seeing Harry tonight, Hermione worried, was bound to make her feel worse about not seeing him on future Saturdays. Ever since she had received the note from Harry mentioning that he was supposed to find a date for this wedding, and wouldn't she like to come instead...Ever since then, Hermione had been struggling to deal with some very troubling realizations that her busy-body brain had drudged up.

One: Harry will likely date again. Maybe not this week in particular, but someday soon her good-looking and absurdly chivalrous best friend was bound to desire to ask a witch out. And, no witch ever turned Harry down. Not since his very first grade school crush had Harry ever had to deal with unrequited attraction of any sort. And even then, Hermione recalled, the witch had seemed to find Harry desirable, she just had a lot of other things to deal with at the time. And so, Hermione had come to the disturbing conclusion that Harry will someday ask a witch out, and that this witch will say yes.

Two: When Harry dates again, he would not be spending his Saturdays with his dear old Hogwarts buddy anymore. Maybe some Saturdays, Hermione supposed, but definitely not all Saturdays. Staying up late and watching television in his flat was definitely not something that they should be doing if Harry had a girlfriend. Not many witches would allow that kind of coziness with a boyfriend's other female acquaintances. So, it was inevitable that Hermione would have to find some other way to spend her Saturdays.

Three: The only reason that she, Hermione, wasn't suffering from any repercussions from the Celibacy Vow was because Harry had been providing her with such good company. She had her courses and her work to keep her occupied and interested, but the weekends tended to drone on when she wasn't involved with anyone. Hermione had never had any close friends beyond Harry and Ron.

As she mulled over her recent revelations, Hermione felt a painful pull at her chest. She was already missing Harry's companionship intensely. Still, she mused, the Vow was working, wasn't it? Reflecting on this question, Hermione observed that it must be working, because she had never felt happier than she had these past few months. But then again, she also observed, this happiness would all burst into flames the moment Harry decided to snag himself a girlfriend. Hermione's chest gave another lurch as the implications of these observations began forming in her mind.

Deciding not to pursue this particular train of thought any further, Hermione allowed herself a deep sigh and stooped down to examine the broken pieces of her once-treasured mug. She remembered purchasing it when she entered University just after the war. She and that mug had spent many a late night pouring over textbooks and working out complicated Arithmancy proofs. "Oh, bother," Hermione scolded herself. "It's just a stupid mug."

Standing up and depositing the bits in the trash bin, Hermione decided that she'd better finish her cleaning duties so that she would have plenty of time left for revising and getting ready for her evening out with Harry. She dusted off her shorts and set about cleaning the counter tops. Several stern incantations and swishes of her wand had the surfaces gleaming back at her and she was soon happily absorbed in her coursework and feeling good about the progress she was beginning to make.

As the day wore on, however, Hermione found to her disgrace that her rambling mind kept wandering back to the issue of her love life. The List of Things to Improve had been edited twice, adding "Make Eye Contact" and "Find Girlfriends" and discarding "Take Better Notes" and "Learn the proper technique for Stewing Magical Herbs at home." At some point during her musings, Hermione had created the beginnings of an important decision. She examined it, refined and modified it, and then examined it some more until it now stood before her in final form. It was waiting for Hermione to commit to it.

Decision: Break the Celibacy Vow.

Once the decision presented itself, Hermione gave up on any further revising. She retreated to her bedroom and lay stretched out on her soft bed, chewing on a plateful of carrot sticks. An ugly mood was taking over her as she talked out loud, chastising the predicament she now found herself immersed in.

"Right. It's been...what...seven weeks since you broke up with Benjamin? Scratch that. It's been seven weeks since Benjamin dumped you," she whined as she grabbed her wand and summoned a bottle of Butterbeer Light from the kitchen, catching it irritably. "...must be some kind of non-dating record or something," she muttered to herself. "A younger witch can go months, even a year or so between dates, but someone in their mid-twenties...I'm supposed to have it worked out by now, dating."

Hermione finished her drink in silence and polished off the remaining bits of carrots. As much as she tried, Hermione could not push the light ache out of her chest. Studying and cleaning had only served to dull the sensation temporarily, and Hermione was finding that the repetitive actions of chewing and swallowing in the silence of her bedroom were causing her mind to probe about, looking for the source of her unhappiness and wallowing in it. Having thoroughly convinced herself that she was in the throws of some kind of breakdown, she unwittingly began to devise a secret plan to make the wedding thing with Harry count as a date...of sorts.

"Just once," Hermione bartered. "Then we can go back to what we were doing...outings or whatever. Then I'm not so pathetic, and maybe I won't miss Harry so much. Maybe having a date will give me incentive to go and find someone." She rose from her bed and withdrew her wand. With the secret plan in mind, Hermione Apparated to wizarding London and purchased a fairly sexy, black party dress and a nice new robe to go with it...and a pair of strappy shoes...and a bracelet.

Four hours later, Harry paced back and forth in his living room, fussing with his tie and cummerbund. A crack sounded just a few feet from where Harry stood. He whirled around to see that Hermione had just arrived.

"Five o'clock on the..."

Harry stopped mid-sentence. Hermione appeared before him in a slinky black dress, her hair twisted up into a loose bun. She was looking up nervously at him with her robes and cloak folded neatly over her arm. "You look -- wow!" Harry beamed. He smiled appreciatively and walked over to his friend, taking her hand and spinning her around to catch the full effect of her outfit. "You did this for me?" he asked boyishly.

Hermione smiled big and wide. "Yes, Harry. I couldn't have those good old boys at the Auror's office thinking you'd be seen with a hag."

"Well," Harry said, "I don't usually care what those idiots think, but I'll definitely be proud to have you on my arm this evening. You look beautiful." Harry's heart gave a tiny jolt when he noticed the blush creeping up his friend's exposed neck. Hemione was not comfortable with accepting compliments, and he wished terribly that she would learn to love her looks the way he did.

"You look beautiful," he repeated while taking Hermione's arm to prepare for traveling. Together, they Apparated to an alley and walked several blocks to a beautiful stone church where the wedding was taking place.

The ceremony was long. Harry twisted and turned in his seat, uncomfortable in his dress clothes and wizard's cloak. It was July, and Harry was lamenting the wizarding world's archaic sense of fashion, pulling at this collar. Next to him, he could see that Hermione was hot as well. She wiped a bead of sweat off her brow and fanned herself with a delicately embossed wedding program. Laughing silently, Harry shook his head. He drew out his wand and gently tapped Hermione's head with the tip, wordlessly casting a Cooling charm.

"Thank you, Harry," Hermione whispered, reaching a hand over to squeeze his in an appreciative gesture.

Harry tapped his own head and relaxed into the ceremony. He found, now that he wasn't preoccupied with the feeling that he was being set on fire, that he rather enjoyed watching the pomp and circumstance of it all. The bridesmaids were stunning and the bride looked the picture of elegance in a long, form-fitting gown. She kept smiling, looking as if she couldn't stop smiling if she had wanted to, in fact. She looked, to Harry, like a beautiful promise. "Lucky wizard," he thought to himself.

Hermione teared up as the bride walked down the hydrangea-lined aisle and - just as he had in the theater - Harry drew up her hand and placed a soft kiss on her palm. He held Hermione's hand in his lap for the rest of the ceremony, caressing it tenderly.

The guests proceeded to a grand hall for the reception, which was quite a to-do given that practically all of the Ministry's Auror department staff were there as guests. Many safety precautions had been put in place, and Hermione felt positively harassed by the time they were directed to their seats. Dinner and a few fruity drinks, however, soon served to lighten her mood, and she was relieved to find that the four couples sharing a table with her and Harry were quite interesting. The bride and groom stopped by their table to exchange pleasantries, and were soon followed by Harry's boss. Hermione flushed deeply as the head of the Auror Department gave a whistle, complimenting Harry on his "excellent taste in witches."

To cover her embarrassment, and feeling a bit restless, Hermione convinced a reluctant Harry to join her on the dance floor. The pair shuffled to an abandoned spot near the stage where a jazz band played soulful music, which provided a mood of sultry sophistication. Dancing comfortably with their hands in each other's, Hermione looked up at Harry and smiled. "I'm having fun," she said. "I always have fun with you, Harry."

Harry just smiled, leading Hermione into another turn.

"Tiffany stopped by last night," he blurted.

Hermione stopped in her tracks, trying to process what Harry had just said. "Tiffany," she began, "the one who broke up with you last spring? Just after Easter?" she asked, trying to sound nonchalant.

"Yes, that one," Harry replied. "She wants to give it another go." He looked over Hermione's shoulder, appearing a bit embarrassed to be discussing his love life out loud. "...was a bit chuffed, actually, that I couldn't take her out tonight...you know?"

Hermione stared at Harry, forcing him to look at her eyes. Why was he just dumping this all on her like this? Why now? She had been enjoying herself so much tonight.

"Sorry," said Harry, sheepishly, seeming to have read her thoughts.

"Oh, no. It's just that...well, I wouldn't want to be the reason..." Hermione struggled to sound interested, but not altogether affected by Harry's news. "I'm happy for you, Harry. I just feel funny that my coming here tonight has put any kind of kink in your plans."

Harry didn't respond, but gave his dance partner a little hug, swirling her in a slow circle. They danced in silence for a few more songs and then reclaimed their seats at the table. Hermione sipped on her drink, staring at the couples on the dance floor.

"Something wrong?" Harry asked with a worried expression on his face.

"Nope. Everything's fine, Hunky," Hermione said airily, smiling.

Harry smiled back and the two relaxed into a friendly conversation. They stayed at their table for the remainder of the evening and bid their goodbyes at half past eleven. Harry summoned their cloaks from the coatroom and, as usual, Apparated them both to his flat. They situated themselves on Harry's sofa and began to watch their favorite Saturday night television program.

"...for probably the last time," Hermione thought, sadly. She was starting to feel right sorry for herself and, in an uncharacteristically presumptuous move, drew her wand to summon a bottle of red wine and two glasses from Harry's cupboard. The bottle and glasses nearly smashed into Harry's glass-top sofa table, but Harry adeptly stopped them with a quick flick of his wand, laughing. Hermione allowed herself only a brief moment to marvel at her friend's lightening quick draw and superior form with spells before returning to her internal sulking.

"Thirsty, are you?" Harry asked, pointing his wand at the wine bottle and setting the cork flying off to the kitchen with a soft "pop."

"Don't you be all cute, charming, lovable Harry with me!" scolded Hermione, but only inside her head. She gave a slight smile and accepted a glass of wine from Harry, taking a large sip.

"Of course, wine goes straight to my hips," she said automatically, and then resumed her internal berating of the unfairness of the situation with her, Harry, Tiffany, and the Celibacy Vow.

"That's it," Harry said sternly. "Hermione Granger, we're not going to have another conversation about your lovely hips," he gestured at Hermione's form, "your stupid lists, or any of your other self-deprecating bull. You were the loveliest witch there tonight!"

He set his wine glass down on the sofa table and looked directly into Hermione's eyes. Hermione, for her part, was searching her brain, trying to recall what exactly it was that she had just said.

"I want you to say something nice about yourself." Harry crossed his arms and leaned back into the sofa cushions. Then, he uncrossed them, grabbed his wine glass and took a sip. "Go on," he ordered.

"Umm, you first. I don't like talking about my...assets, if you will," Hermione said, carefully. "It's much easier to complain, really."

Harry looked skeptical.

"Go on," she urged, "just tell me something that you've been complimented on over the years. If it's something you have heard more than a few times, and especially if it's been said by more than one witch or wizard, I expect it's bound to be true."

Hermione gave Harry a challenging look.

"All right," Harry said, cringing. He had just as hard of a time speaking highly of himself as Hermione, and he knew it. Harry took several more sips of wine before taking a deep breath. "OK, same time then."

Hermione nodded.

Harry began the countdown, looking quite put out, but determined. "Three, two, one..."

"Soft lips."

"Nice legs."

They spoke in unison, and then fell back on the sofa, laughing uncomfortably. After a few moments, each sat up and grabbed their own wine glass, drinking in even intervals and returning their attention to the late-night talk show. Hermione struggled within herself. Harry seemed to be acting normally. She had no real reason to feel so put out. Yet, as the wine made its way through her continence, her fuzzy brain was reminded of the idea that had popped into her head many hours earlier.

The one date idea.

She could almost count this evening as a date if it weren't for the discussion of Tiffany and the fact that she and Harry were now back together. But, Hermione reasoned, if she could secure a tiny little kiss...And, hadn't Harry all but opened the door with his "soft lips" comment?

"Tiffany was the one who said the 'soft lips' thing --" Harry began.

"I think your teeth are sexy," Hermione spat out. She wanted to interject something, anything, before the conversation had officially returned to Tiffany.

"What?" Harry gasped.

"You have sexy teeth. Kind of crowded on the bottom, but straight on top. Perfect bite. Good color. My parents are dentists, you'll recall. I often found their patients' teeth to look too perfect after treatment with orthodontics - like dentures or something. Yours though, they're naturally straight. Imperfect and sexy." Hermione was in a full-fledged ramble now and she was struggling to stop herself. But, she noticed, she had managed to bring the conversation away from talking about certain other witches. Perhaps into a very bizarre place of its own, but away from Tiffany, nonetheless.

"Teeth aren't sexy," was Harry's simple reply.

Hermione refilled their glasses and attempted to act casual, preparing herself to deliver the next blow. "Yeah they are," she persisted. "When you draw your tongue across the top ones like you do sometimes. That's sexy," she managed. "Harry, can I kiss you?"

"What?" Harry was mid-sip and nearly snorted through his nose.

"Sorry," Hermione winced. "That was weird, wasn't it?" She averted her eyes and began playing with a fold in the silky fabric of her dress, breathing unevenly.

"Yeah, a bit!" Harry said. He grimaced slightly and then shook his head, took a deep breath, and exhaled loudly as he sank back into the sofa. After a few silent moments, Harry sat back up and took another sip of wine.

Hermione had never felt more outlandish in her life. She had reached some new kind of low, hitting on her best friend. And why? She knew it didn't have as much to do with wanting to be on an official date as not wanting to think about Harry and Tiffany on one. This thought made her feel slightly nauseous.

"I'm sorry, Harry," she said, finally. "I really am. I promise not to be weird anymore. I've just...it's just..."

"The Celibacy Vow," Harry finished for her. He tilted his head to the side and peered at her with a look of genuine concern. "Hermione, it's time for you to get back out there. I think you realize now that you're far too young to be an old maid, and far too gorgeous to be a nun." Harry held his wine glass up in toasting fashion and set his jaw, looking rather serious.

"To the end of the stupid Celibacy Vow."

Hermione half-heartedly clinked her glass with Harry's, frowning. "Oh, Harry. That's the truly sad part," she began. "I did end the vow." Harry looked surprised and opened his mouth to speak, but Hermione cut him off with a wave. "This morning. Well, I guess the idea probably originated two weeks ago, if I'm being honest. You mentioned that you needed a date for this wedding and I realized for the first time how much your company means to me. You'll have a girlfriend again or something and I won't have these wonderful weekends. We've been so close lately...So close, and that's the only reason that I haven't been feeling that awful loneliness that always comes when someone's...alone."

Harry put a hand on Hermione's leg, smiling sweetly at her. "We can still have our Saturdays," he said. "We'll still be close."

Hermione smiled back and sighed, taking her own deep breath. She exhaled through her teeth and leaned over the side of the sofa, resting her head on her arm and peering out the window. "It's not voluntary," she said.

"What isn't?" Harry asked.

"The celibacy thing, it's not voluntary," Hermione sighed. "Harry, nobody is asking me out. I haven't been turning wizards down right and left, happy with some stupid decision that I'd made. They just haven't been coming around anymore to ask."

"There'll be someone," Harry said. He looked concernedly at Hermione's turned head, hating to see his friend sad. From the time they were eleven years old, Harry had known that he would walk through fire and Troll bogeys to keep Hermione from looking like she did just now. "What is wrong with wizards anyway?" he thought. "Can't they see what a remarkable witch Hermione Granger is?" Harry felt anger percolate inside of him as he recalled the chastising comments that fellow school mates would sometimes make toward his closest female pal when they thought he couldn't hear them. It had always occurred to Harry that the boys were probably more intimidated than put off by Hermione.

Hermione's back was still turned to Harry and he stared at her slender form. Her tiny waist was twisted into a sad little slump and her shapely legs peered teasingly out of her short dress. Now that she was an adult, Harry found Hermione more attractive than ever, and he just couldn't understand why more wizards didn't see this in her above all the scary intellect. It must have been these thoughts that made Harry lean over and place a tender kiss on Hermione's temple. As he did so, Harry drew his wand and swished it at the fireplace, casting a warm glow that filled the living room. Another flick and the television set gave a quiet snap as it was turned off. The soft, rippling and crackling of the fire filled the newly silenced room.

Hermione turned her head toward Harry and stared at him, a quizzical look beginning to form on her face. Harry reached across her and grabbed the sofa arm for balance as he moved to kiss her again, his left hand leaning gently on Hermione's thigh. It was a gentle kiss. Harry enveloped Hermione's bottom lip lightly and then kissed the surface of her slightly parted mouth for a few moments. Out of habit, Hermione opened her mouth, and they enjoyed a short but very nice kiss, warmed by the fire Harry had conjured, the activity they were presently engaged in, and the wine they had just consumed.

They parted and both sat back, hands in laps and staring at the fire. After a few long seconds, Harry looked down at Hermione's folded hands and said, "Now you can count this evening as an official date." He gave an almost undetectable smile and looked over at his friend's face. She looked sweetly pensive, Harry thought. "I lit the fire so that you can say you were kissed by the fire under the moonlight," Harry added as he gestured shyly toward the window where a beautiful crescent moon lit the evening sky. "That'll give the next bloke you fancy something to think about."

Hermione laughed. "Fire and moonlight, wine and dancing," she said loftily. She stood up and summoned her robes and cloak, offering her right hand for Harry to shake. "Well then, thank you kind sir for a lovely date."

"Oh, you're quite welcome," Harry said, standing up and pulling Hermione into a loose hug. "I had a great time. Just don't tell Tiffany - she'll break my broomstick if she finds out I've been on a date the day after she and I just got back together." He gave a nervous chuckle.

"Well, that's what you get for dating a stripper!" Hermione said, wrapping her robes around herself and smiling at Harry. "They're a jealous lot."

"She's not a stripper!" Harry retorted, smiling despite his efforts to appear offended.

"Well, she's got a stripper's name. Same thing, really."

Hermione Apparated before Harry could continue to defend his witch's honor. Back in her flat, she chuckled out loud and glided into her bedroom to get ready for bed. Hermione was exhausted and embarrassed, and a tiny bit excited. The little kiss she and Harry shared may have been born of a strange and, well, bad idea, but it had resurrected something inside of her. She did indeed miss the sort of attention a wizard could give her after all. Even if she didn't get asked out for a while, Hermione now had a nice memory to mull over to help her through the loneliness that she would undoubtedly feel once Harry began to spend more and more time with the stripper. She laughed again at her little nickname for the witch who stole Harry away, adding out loud, "I am too funny."