Am I Too Late

AM I TOO LATE

Chapter Three

Midnight Confessions

Hermione looked up at her and smiled sadly. "I am in love with Harry."

Ginny and Hermione stood silent for an eternity's second. Neither knew how to respond to the words of honesty that now hung in the air like an additional house guest--welcomed yet forbidden.

"Well..." Ginny finally said, taking a deep breath. "That's certainly something."

Hermione continued to stand stock-still with a dazed expression in her eyes. Speaking the words out loud seemed to stop any other thought process from functioning correctly.

"Are you okay?" Ginny asked, her concern growing with Hermione's statuesque form.

Hermione merely shook her head.

"Okay, Hermione, you're starting to freak me out. Will you talk to me?"

Hermione blinked her eyes slowly, raising her gaze to meet Ginny's. "I...am in love with Harry," she whispered.

"Yeah. You said that already."

"I can't be. It's not possible," she continued to whisper.

"Come over here and sit down. We'll talk this out," Ginny said.

Hermione walked over to the couch like a zombie and dropped down onto the cushions with very little grace. Then, suddenly, she threw her arms over her face and leaned back.

"I can't be in love with Harry. He's my best friend. You don't fall in love with your bloody best friend!" she groaned in distress.

"Hermione this isn't that surprising--" Ginny began.

Hermione sat up quickly and stared at her, creasing her forehead in frustration. "--And why not? I have never acted like Harry was anything other than my friend!"

"That's not what I mean, Hermione."

"Then, what do you mean?"

"All I'm saying is that you, Harry and Ron have been inseparable for the past, oh, I don't know, fifteen years. It isn't surprising that something started to grow into more than friendship--"

"--Nothing is growing here! We are friends. Just friends."

"Of course you're friends, but you just said--"

"--I know what I just said!" Hermione shouted, leaning her head between her knees. She could see the black spots dancing on the edge of her vision.

"Are you okay?" Ginny asked worriedly.

"No," Hermione groaned. "I'm having a panic attack and...and...I'm in denial!" she wailed.

"Time for more coffee," Ginny said, standing to her feet and picking up their mugs. "I think this is going to be a long night."

* * * *

At two in the morning, Hermione's eyes were bloodshot and drooping. Ginny yawned, and the two friends smiled sleepily at each other.

"You should go, Gin. You're exhausted." Hermione sighed.

"I know. I've to work in the morning. Bright and early," she rolled her eyes.

"I'm sorry for keeping you out so late," Hermione apologized.

"Nah, don't worry about it." Ginny gathered her things and walked toward the hearth. She turned to look at Hermione. "What are you going to do?"

Hermione shrugged. "Nothing, I suppose."

"Don't you think he deserves to know?"

"We've been over this already, Ginny. Harry is happy with Beth. She loves him; he loves her. He wants to marry her. I'm just his friend and I don't want to ruin that."

"But what if he knew the truth about how you feel?"

Hermione shook her head. "It's my job to be his friend...nothing more. Telling him how I feel wouldn't change anything. It would merely make him awkward around me and I don't want that."

It was Ginny's turn to sigh. "Still, I think you should tell him. You never know."

Hermione didn't answer. "I appreciate you coming over, and I appreciate you keeping this to yourself."

"Of course. Goodnight."

"Goodnight Ginny."

Hermione watched Ginny Floo out of her flat. Then, she found her way to her bedroom. Too tired to change into her pajamas, she fell into her bed still wearing her jeans and t-shirt. Her dreams were fitful and were filled with visions of Harry turning into a snitch she was never quite fast enough to catch.

* * * *

Across town, Harry was sitting in an oversized leather chair listening to Ron snoring on the couch. He held in his hand a picture Beth had given him. In the photograph she was holding him around the waist, and he was smiling broadly. Her long black hair moved in the wind, and her perfect lips were smirking up at him.

She was beautiful, smart, sexy and talented. They had been dating for a bit over two years, and he had nothing to complain about--other than the tiny fact that she traveled constantly. But that's how the fashion world worked--or so she said--one had to stay on top of the changes, outsmart the competitor. And everyone knew that Beth Jordan was at the top of her game.

Harry had met her one night at a party for Ron's Quidditch team. She had been with the Chaser that night, but it wasn't long after when she called upon Harry. They'd been together ever since. And at least Harry knew she wasn't dating him just because he was Harry Potter. Hell, she was probably better known than he was these days, and that suited him just fine.

He patted his pocket. He could feel the tiny black box, the shape of the square pressing into his leg. Beth would be home in two days time, and he was going to ask her to marry him. He wished Hermione had been more helpful in her feelings concerning the matter, because he never felt entirely comfortable making big decisions in his life without Hermione's opinion.

He decided he would call on her tomorrow. Perhaps the night's dinner hadn't sat very well with her. He didn't like the fact that she was so overworked--so overworked that she was having panic attacks. He wondered if he could force someone at her office to give her some time off. Yes, he would do that. He would make a stop at her work first thing in the morning and see what he could do. He smiled thinking of how surprised Hermione would be with him if he could get her a vacation. Then, he closed his eyes and dozed off in his comfortable chair.

* * * *

The following morning when Hermione fell out of bed half an hour after her alarm had first gone off, she groaned, stumbled into the shower, stumbled out of the shower ten minutes later, grabbed a cup of black coffee, drank it as she walked out the door, and apparated to work.

Always an activist, Hermione worked for a small, yet widely respected company that fought for the rights of every creature--from house-elves to goblins, from witches to hags, from vampires to werewolves. And speaking of werewolves, Remus Lupin was the president of the company. Due mostly to his unyielding fight during the last War against Voldemort, people were forced to see him as more than an animal. Hermione usually enjoyed working with Remus (she'd dropped the title of professor at his urging), but this particular morning, she didn't fancy seeing anyone.

As she walked up the front steps, she rubbed two fingers against her temple. She felt sure there was a tiny person inside her head, practicing his ninja moves with an enormous weapon; it was quite possible that he was fighting a war with the backs of her eyeballs. Hermione thought he was winning. With her headache, combined with her puffy eyes and nervous stomach, she felt her symptoms could be compared to those caused by a hangover.

She pushed open the front doors and walked in, careful to not make eye contact with anyone lest they believe she actually wanted to be pulled into a conversation. As she shoved on her office door, her secretary, Stephanie Warbeck, called out to her.

"Hermione!"

Hermione moaned under her breath and stood with one hand on her office door as she dropped her head down.

"Yes?"

Stephanie stood up from her desk and hurried over. "Harry Potter is here to see you."

Hermione groaned again. Her stomach shifted around uncomfortably. She didn't have it in her today to meet with Harry. She needed more time to prepare her smile, to work on her phony words of excitement and encouragement.

"Why do you always add his last name when you talk about him? I don't even know anyone else named Harry," she said in annoyance.

"I'm sorry," Stephanie apologized quickly, and Hermione immediately felt guilty.

"Steph, I don't mean to be rude, but I have a lot of work to get finished today--"

"--I thought you were all caught up--"

"--I'm never caught up," Hermione interrupted, internally swearing at the ninja in her head--he was presently stabbing the back of her right eye. She sighed. "Listen, I'm sorry. I didn't sleep well last night. Could you please go to the waiting room and tell Harry that I can't meet with him this morning? Tell him I'll talk with him later," she said as she pushed her office door the rest of the way open.

"But he's--"
"--Just tell him, Steph. Besides I look like complete hell today."

"Aww, that's a bit harsh, Hermione, I'd say. You look fine to me," Harry said, and her mouth dropped open when she saw him sitting behind her desk.

"I was trying to tell you that he wasn't in the waiting room. He was waiting for you in your office," Stephanie said as she walked off.

"Yeah, thanks for the heads-up," Hermione muttered sarcastically.

"Don't be so hard on Steph. She's a sweet girl, and besides, I forced her to let me in," Harry said, grinning as he leaned his elbows on the top of her desk.

"Charmed her, did you?" Hermione asked, dropping her bag onto the floor beside her desk.

"Me? Charm? No way. I bribed her with chocolate frogs." He smiled.

Hermione hated to see it, because it made her heart flip upside-down in her chest.

"I thought that only worked with Ron," she said, turning on her Muggle coffee pot though she wondered if she would need something much stronger than coffee to get her through the next few days.

"Well, evidently there's someone else in this world that also has a weakness for them," Harry said, shrugging. "So, you're not feeling well?"

Hermione dropped into a chair in front of her desk since it was apparent Harry had no intention of vacating her chair. She began rubbing her temple again.

"Not especially."

"Didn't sleep well?" he asked.

"Not especially."

"Want to say something other than 'not especially'?"
"Not especially," she replied, and he'd done it--he'd made her crack a smile, and just as she thought, it hurt...her heart.

Harry smiled at her. "I talked to Remus this morning," he began.

"That's nice," Hermione answered, not feeling much like conversation. She could hardly maintain control of her organs. Her stomach was one giant knot, changing back and forth from molten lava to lead in the passing seconds; her heart was palpitating at break-neck speed, and her palms were sweating. She wiped them on her pants.

"We talked about you," Harry said, trying to suppress a grin. He had a twinkle in his eye that made her immediately suspicious.

"What aren't you telling me?"

"I asked him to give you some time off."

"What?" she asked quickly. "What for?"

"Well, I told him about your panic attack last night and how you're obviously overworked. He said he'd been trying to get you to take a vacation for months."
Hermione closed her eyes; she desperately wanted to scream. "Okay," was all she could say.

"And I also told him that I need your help with something else," Harry said with excitement in his voice.

"Really? With what?" Hermione asked, trying to mask her curiosity.

"Well, since I'm going to ask Beth to marry me, she knows she'll be traveling a lot, and she's asked me to plan most of the wedding. She says she trusts my judgment and with all the work she's doing, she won't have the proper amount of time to give to it, but she doesn't want to wait until she does have time...we might never get married if we waited for her to have a spare moment."

Hermione felt nauseated. She swallowed down the bile in her throat. "She knows you're going to ask her?" she asked, amazed that she didn't vomit instead of speaking.

"Sure. I suppose it was mostly her idea. Anyways, I don't know anything about weddings. And, seeing as how you're a girl, I want you to help me," Harry admitted, grinning widely. "Since you're my best friend, who better to help with such things?"

Hermione's eyes were wide with an emotion she was sure could be termed shock--if it was multiplied one million times.

"I...uhh...I..." she stuttered.

And then he gave her the look. His bright green eyes sparkled; his lop-sided grin pleaded with her. "Please, Hermione. You're the only one who can help me."

She caved in. "Okay," she said weakly.

"Brilliant!" he shouted, jumping up from her chair. "I told Ron you'd agree to help. He said you wouldn't want to help because it's such a girly thing and you're not in to frills and such, but I knew you wouldn't let me down. But, now I've got to get going. Supposed to meet him before he leaves for his next match. I'll get back with you about this...Beth is coming home tomorrow. I'll ask her then and afterwards you and I can get started. Remus said you could take off as much time as you needed. If he had any questions about your files, he said it would be easy to floo you at home and get what he needed. Besides, he said you are so advanced on all your files that he's surprised you have anything to do at all. I'll see you soon, okay?"

He touched her shoulder gently before hurrying out of the room. Hermione dropped her head back so that it dangled toward the floor, and she stared at the tiles on the ceiling.

"I'm being punished for something," she whispered sadly into the empty room. "Do you suppose I'm being punished for stealing those ingredients from Snape's storeroom in second year?" she whispered to no one in particular.

Her stomach began to churn. Why in the world had she agreed to help Harry plan his wedding? Had she gone completely mad? Pitched into the deep end? She stood up and rushed out of her office, plowing right into Remus.

"You okay, Hermione?" he asked, touching her shoulder. "You look a bit peaky."

"I think I'm going to be sick," she mumbled, pushing past him in search of the nearest loo.

"Breakfast not suit you?" he asked at her retreating form.

She shook her head and continued walking. No, Remus, she thought, I've just agreed to help the man I'm in love with organize his wedding with some other woman. I'm being punished, she thought again as she disappeared into the lavatory.Har