Charming

The first order of business, of course, was to get a copy of Harry’s keys made. Doing the chores that required her to go elsewhere first only made sense. She didn’t know what time Harry would get back home so the only thing she could do was get back there herself as soon as possible so he wouldn’t be locked out of his own flat. If Harry had set up anti-Apparition wards, then he was sure to have set up additional wards over his door and windows to prevent them from being opened by a simple Alohomora. He would probably be able to break through them, as he had made them, but Hermione didn’t see any reason why that theory should be put to the test. Especially as, one way or the other, Harry would likely be drained when he did get back.

That task turned out to be easier than she had thought it would be. On her way down the stairs, she ran into none other than Mrs Stewart, the landlady.

“Ah, Ms Granger, just the person I was looking for,” she said.

“Good morning, Mrs Stewart,” Hermione replied. “How are you today?”

“Just fine, dear, just fine. I didn’t think of this until after I had left last night and I didn’t want to go back to disturb you two, but I thought you might like the extra set of keys to the flat.”

“There is one?”

“Yes, yes, of course.” The old witch handed a pair of keys over to Hermione. “Normally, I don’t hand the spare set out, but I imagine that you’ll want to visit your young man whenever you like and who am I to get in the way of true love?”

“Oh thank you,” she said earnestly. “I really appreciate it . . . though it might be more than just visit . . . I mean, you’d think he would take care of himself but when I looked to see what there was to eat this morning . . .”

“You didn’t find a thing? Typical wizard behavior, that is. They only think of getting food when they’re hungry, they never plan ahead, and so it’s always take out. But I must say, it’s nice to see a young lady looking after her fiancée these days.”

Hermione winced. She had that business about the engagement to take care of as well. “About the engagement . . . well, it is secret for now at least and I’d appreciate it if—”

“Oh, I won’t tell anyone, you have my word on that. I wouldn’t want that nasty lady reporter from the Prophet here again. Once was enough, I tell you, when word got out about the Boy Who Lived making his residence here. Though I stand by what I said last night, that it’s not good to keep your engagement secret. Secrets never did anyone any good and you should get it out in the open as soon as you can.”

“Yes, I know.” Hermione sighed and looked down. There was no way she could tell Mrs Stewart that she had lied last night. She and Harry would just have to live with it. “It’s just that he’s so protective at times and you’ve seen yourself how awful reporters can be.”

“True enough. Well, I won’t meddle in your affairs any longer,” Mrs Stewart declared but somehow Hermione didn’t believe her. “You young people will think you know what’s best, no matter what older and wiser heads tell you. So I’ll just let you get on with your business.”

“Thanks again,” Hermione called as the old witch walked away. That took care of not but two of her chores for the day, and for that, she was very grateful. The next order of business was for her to go to Gringotts so that she could change the rest of the Muggle money she had into Wizarding money, as she had precious little of that. Happier now that one of her earlier problems was now resolved, she went down the rest of the stairs, humming softly to herself. As she stepped out on to the pavement outside, she looked around to see if she could get her bearings.

It turned out that Harry had chosen a nice neighborhood not too far from Diagon Alley to live in. Hermione had to smile at that. It seemed as if Harry hadn’t just taken the first flat that he had found in order to get away from his relatives but instead, had put a bit of research in deciding where to live. He wasn’t completely oblivious to the world around him. Even though he was completely oblivious to her. Hermione sighed and started walking briskly to Gringotts. So what if Harry didn’t think of her as a witch? That didn’t matter, not really, in the long run. They were friends and that was what counted. He had done so much for her throughout the years that she just couldn’t take out on him her frustration about the way he tended to ignore her. Besides, one couldn’t choose who one fell in love with and it was simply her bad luck that she fell in love with a man who never gave her a second glance. Other witches had done the same before and had lived. She would do the same, taking it one day at a time. It had to get better eventually – this heavy feeling in her chest that made it so hard to breathe when she thought of not having him, of not ever getting the chance to hold him like she longed to – and when it did, she would certainly find someone to cherish her.

The rest of her chores went quickly enough. There was no arguing with the goblins at Gringotts about the exchange rate for pounds, especially given the fact that they had a monopoly when it came to the legal exchange of Muggle money into Wizarding money. From there, she moved on to buying groceries, spending quite a bit of time there, so that she could stock up Harry’s rather depleted kitchen. Once she thought that she had procured enough food to last them through the rest of the week, she returned back to Harry’s flat, where she put everything she had bought away before turning to cleaning up the place.

When that was finished, there was nothing else left for her to do except to wait for Harry . . . and to write a letter to send to her parents along with one to send to Ron. She promptly scribbled off a note to her parents, explaining to them that was she was at Harry’s place and that she had decided to live there for now as it would be easier that way to find a job in the Wizarding World. Hermione wasn’t sure whether her parents would buy that excuse. She suspected that her mum knew that she fancied her black-haired, green-eyed best friend and if her mum knew, then her dad did as well. Yet the excuse was plausible enough on its face and so they were likely to accept it.

Hermione followed that up by writing a short letter to Ron, telling him of how she had moved in with Harry for the time being. She didn’t know how Ron would take that news at all. On one hand, he no longer fancied her, not after that one disastrous date of theirs. Yet on the other hand, learning that his two best friends were now living together might make him feel left out and lonely . . . and unfortunately, there wasn’t enough room for Ron to move in with them as well. Hermione sighed, wishing that they could all be together again as having Ron as a buffer between her and Harry would have helped her so much with her Harry obsession. She ended that letter with the suggestion that the three of them meet up for dinner some time soon. She couldn’t set a date as she didn’t know either Harry’s or Ron’s schedule, but she could start planning for a small reunion. She added a quick postscript to the letter to her parents, letting them know that she would be by tomorrow to pick up the rest of her things.

Send them now or later, she debated silently. I do want them to go out as soon as can be, but I do want to make sure that I’m here when Harry gets back too. I wonder how far the post is from here. If it’s not that far and if there isn’t a long line . . . but even then, I might not be fast enough.

Her internal ramblings were interrupted by the arrival of Hedwig, who was still with Harry even after all this time. “Care to deliver a couple letters for me?” she asked the owl. Hedwig hooted and stuck out her leg. Hermione took this to mean yes and attached both letters to Hedwig, who flew off to make the deliveries. With that done, there was truly nothing left to do except wait for Harry.

She wandered around the flat, looking for something to clean before she lost her mind out of boredom. It wasn’t very big, with only a single bedroom, a small living room, a kitchen, and a bathroom. At the sight of the shower, she remembered she had yet to take one for the day. Hermione was like that at times, forgetting to do simple, basic things when she had errands to run or chores to do. She pummeled her brain, seeking the answer to where she had left her bag the last evening and she eventually recalled that she had left it in Harry’s bedroom. Blushing, she went in to retrieve it, mindful that she must look like a fright. It’s astonishing that no one ran away from me out of fear today, she thought. It’s past time for a shower.

Hermione spent a blissful hour getting clean and changing into fresh robes, before proceeding to look up a few charms to make the sofa a bit more comfortable for sleeping. Hedwig had already returned by then, with a short reply from her parents, saying that they would talk to her tomorrow, but without a note from Ron. It took her but a few minutes to find the appropriate spells, and once they were cast, she decided that it was high time she got some sleep.

When she awoke, it was to the sensation of someone stroking her hair while sniffing, as if trying to hold back tears. She opened her eyes and saw Harry kneeling before her, with disappointment clearly written all over his face.

“Oh Harry.” She sat up and struggled to pull him on to the couch. “You didn’t get it?” she asked.

“No,” came his reply. “I didn’t.”

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. What happened?”

“I . . . I don’t know, Hermione. I caught the Snitch, I was the best there . . . but they chose someone else. When I asked Wood about it, he said that I’d been too good . . . and that their regular Seeker had threatened to walk if they signed me and that I wasn’t good enough for them to take a risk as using me as their starting Seeker when the season starts. I . . . it’s just . . . damn it! It’s so bloody unfair.” He screwed up his eyes and clenched his fists. “How the hell was I supposed to know that I shouldn’t have tried my best? That doing so would only lose me the job?”

Hermione sighed. “That is unfair and nothing I can say will make it better. I wish I could do something though . . . I really wish I could.” She hugged him tight, and he buried his head in her hair. It felt so right being able to comfort him like this that she almost could not breathe. “It is their loss though. If you were that good, so good that their regular Seeker felt threatened . . . that says something I think. And I know that you’ll find some team that will sign you and when they do, you’ll be brilliant.”

“I know. It’s just frustrating, to have got up so early, have tried so hard, and get that as a result. I’m beginning to wonder if I really want to play professional Quidditch if this is how the sport is like.”

“Do you really? You always said at Hogwarts how much you enjoyed it and—”

“I do enjoy it. I enjoy playing it. There’s nothing like flying if you ask me. But this isn’t flying, this isn’t playing Quidditch . . . it’s some sort of political game, and I don’t like that.” He exhaled heavily. “Though I don’t know what else to do. I do know that I don’t want to become an Auror, and I’m not qualified for much else. I didn’t get high marks like you.”

“Your marks were good,” she told him. “You shouldn’t put yourself down like that.”

“Even so, I can’t compare to you.”

“You had other things on your mind rather than studying, so that’s why I did so much better. And that’s not the point in any case. If you want to do something else, I’m sure you’re qualified.”

“Probably,” he mumbled. “Maybe it’s that I can’t think of much else that I want to do with myself. Not that I have to, I suppose, if I don’t want to. But I don’t want to live off my inheritance . . . I want to do something and not just sit around all day.”

“I know.” She ruffled his hair fondly. “Though I might add that you’ve certainly done enough in your life already. If you want a break, where you just take some time for yourself, you’ve more than earned it.” That was the wrong thing to say. She could feel it in the way he stiffened and pulled away from her.

“I don’t think,” he said heatedly, “that just because I happened to defeat one dark lord, with the help of a lot of people, some of whom died I might add, that means that I—”

“No, you wouldn’t,” she said softly, meeting his stubborn glare. “And you wouldn’t like it if people expected you to fight evil for the rest of your life either. I wasn’t saying that you should laze around for the rest of your life. Just that after what you’ve been through, it’s only to be expected that you might not know what to do next . . . and that you shouldn’t fault yourself if it takes you some time to figure out what is it you want to do for the rest of your life.”

“Yeah,” he muttered. “Though there’s a part of me that doesn’t want to give up on the whole professional Quidditch idea the first time something goes wrong.”

“Well, are there other tryouts? For the Seeker position that is?”

“Yeah, at least one more, one for the reserve with the Montrose Magpies, and I hear that the Appleby Arrows might start searching for a new Seeker all together.” He grinned after saying that, for the first time that evening. “And I guess I should give the other teams a chance, right? I mean, just because that’s the attitude at Puddlemere, it doesn’t follow that everywhere else will be the same. And if I can’t get a position at any team, then I can start worrying about what to do next.”

“Exactly,” Hermione said, nodding.

“Thanks for listening.” He gave her a quick hug. “Sorry to have made you put up with all that . . . I’m just not used to not succeeding in Quidditch, I suppose, and being told that I wasn’t picked because I was too good . . . well, that was the last straw.”

“That makes sense to me.” Hermione suddenly clapped her hands together. “And before I forget, let me give you back your keys.”

“So you were able to make a copy?”

“Actually, I didn’t have to. Mrs Stewart had an spare set, which she gave me . . . and she’s not going to tell—”

“The entire world that you and I are engaged? That’s good. What ever possessed you to say such a thing last night? I’d thought you could have thought of something better than that.”

“Harry! You know I was never the best at lying!”

“True, true. Looking back, it’s amazing that your excuse first year about going to look for the troll was believed by McGonagall. Certainly, that wouldn’t have been in character for you.” Harry smirked at her and she stuck out her tongue in reply.

“I still have it in me to surprise you. You don’t know everything about me.” She huffed and crossed her arms over her chest.

“Of that I have no doubt. You certainly surprised me last night.”

“Oh that. I am sorry about that. I really hadn’t thought that I’d wind up in your bed . . . ” Wrong thing to say, she thought. And could you stop blushing? Or do you want Harry to ask why you’re turning so red?

“I just hope you don’t market that charm. You could make a fair amount of money selling a charm that’s guaranteed to land a witch in my bed.” The smirk on Harry’s face only grew wider.

“And I thought you said that you didn’t have an ego. Not every witch finds you attractive.” Though I’m not one of them.

“Touché. And I don’t have an ego, but right now, I’m starving. Is there anything to eat?” He bounced off, with so much energy even after his long day that it made Hermione tired to look at him. She summoned her strength to get up and follow him to the kitchen, not wanting him to make a mess of it after she had cleaned it from the morning. Being able to look at Harry’s arse without him knowing was only a side benefit, really, she thought while walking behind him and admiring the view. Although that’s probably damning it with faint praise.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

There weren’t too many things that Harry could count on in his life at Hogwarts – aside from always having Potions with the Slytherins and other such things he could live without – but one of the more positive constants he had was that Hermione could be counted on to always be awake before him. That tendency of hers had disrupted a couple of the pranks that he and Ron had intended to play on her by getting up before she did and waiting until she came down to the common room. Invariably, they would find her, curled up in her favorite armchair with a book in front of her – and her wand pointed straight at them, with a glare that brooked no nonsense. When Ron had jokingly commented on how he and Harry would have to get up early to pull one over on Hermione, she had stonily replied that they would have to stay up all night.

Harry almost fell over himself in shock when he came across her sleeping on the couch when he got up the next morning to make breakfast.

Hermione looked very different sleeping. When she was awake, he could tell that she was always active. Even if she was sitting perfectly still, he knew that thoughts were busy racing across her mind. He didn’t get that feeling, looking at her while she was sleeping. It seemed as if she was at peace, taking some time to relax even though it was only in her dreams . . . though from the smile on her face, she seemed to be enjoying her dream, whatever it was about. She looked like she was just an ordinary girl – and not Hermione – and that was surprising for he never thought of how much of what he viewed as her personality was grounded in the actions and words she used around him. It made him wonder just how much he didn’t know about Hermione.

Truth be told, he was of two minds when Hermione had suddenly appeared at his place and decided to settle in. He had been feeling somewhat lonely after leaving Hogwarts. He had grown used to having his friends around him at all hours of the day. And he would be the first to admit that it was nice to come home to Hermione after a rotten day such as yesterday. It was nice to have someone to talk to, to tell your worries and fears to, and know that they wouldn’t think the less of you. He never had to fear that from Hermione.

The downside to all this was, he couldn’t have much of a social life with Hermione around. Or to be more exact, having her living with him was going to put a damper on his love life, what little there was of that these days. Bringing a witch home with Hermione around . . . he just couldn’t imagine doing that. To be fair, however, it wasn’t as if he expected to start dating any time soon. He didn’t think he’d find a witch who would look at him instead of the scar for quite some time and so he supposed that all things considered, it was fine if Hermione stayed. Especially as he knew she wasn’t telling him the whole story, which made him worry that not everything was well with her. Perhaps she had a reason to move back to the Wizarding world that she didn’t want to divulge. If he could be of some help to her by letting her stay, it was worth it. She had saved his life by helping him to learn spells while they were at Hogwarts. He wasn’t about to return her friendship by turning her out.

Oh stop gawking at Hermione as if you’ve never seen her, he told himself firmly. And go on to the kitchen to make breakfast so it’ll be ready when she wakes up . . . and so she can’t have another chance to burn the place down. Merlin! That was a close call last night. Harry smiled as he recalled how Hermione had tried to help him fix dinner yesterday evening and how they had both wound up diving under the table for cover. It was amusing to think that her skill in Potions didn’t carry over to cooking as he would have expected. He would never say it to her face, but it was nice being better than her in something for a change. He liked being able to help her out, rather than always being the one on the receiving end.

He assembled breakfast together in a matter of minutes. Harry noted with a grin the freshly ground coffee Hermione had bought. Some time before their last year at Hogwarts, Hermione had become accustomed to starting the day with at least one cup of coffee – and she had always detested the instant stuff, claiming that its flavor was awful. Personally, Harry thought coffee just tasted bad period. He only drank it when he needed to stay awake and instant coffee was quicker to make. Harry made a regular pot of coffee for Hermione, knowing that she would appreciate it, and was about to move on to setting the table, when a hyperactive ball of fluff rammed straight into his chest.

“Ow!” Harry looked down to see a small, familiar owl frantically flying around before him. “Stay still, Pig,” he told the owl. “I can’t get the letter if you keep moving around.” It took longer than it should have, but he finally extracted the letter from the overly-excited owl. To the lovebirds read the lettering on the envelope and Harry barely stifled a groan. Either Ron was trying to be funny or he wasn’t taking the news of Hermione moving in on him very well.

“What’s wrong?”

Harry glanced over to the doorway to see that Hermione standing there, hair still mussed with sleep. Silently, he handed the letter over to her and she reached out to take it. She frowned as she saw the writing on it. Her brow furrowed as she read the note and Harry sat down at the table to wait for her to finish.

“So, how bad is it?” Harry asked, unable to take the silence any longer.

“Bad? Oh no, not at all. Just that Ron thinks that he’s a laugh a minute again.” Hermione sighed. “He is never going to let us forget this one, I’m afraid. If there’s a bad joke he can make about it, he will.”

“Well, I’m thankful for that. I thought that—”

“That he’d be mad at us?” Hermione shook her head disbelievingly. “Me and Ron as a couple . . . that was over a long time ago, Harry. It didn’t work, it’s sad but the truth and he’s not going to be madly jealous or anything like that.”

“No, not that,” Harry told her. “I know that. I thought that perhaps he’d be upset since we’re together, just like old times, while he’s not here along with us.”

Hermione laughed. “You have no idea how it sounds like to hear you talking about ‘old times.’ We’re not even twenty yet!”

“You know what I mean.” He mock glared at her. “And it’s a turn of phrase, everyone uses it.”

“I know, and I can see why you’d be concerned. But I told Ron that there’s barely room to move in here and that it’s so small . . . and well, see for yourself.” She handed the letter back to him. “He told me that’s what I get for barging in on you.”

Harry let out a sigh of relief as he read the letter. Hermione was right. Ron had taken the news well and was more concerned about getting in as many jokes as he could than anything else. Harry supposed that the situation they were in was funny, especially if you could look at it from the outside in like Ron could. All throughout their Hogwarts years, Harry and Hermione had been continually paired up whenever they were both single, despite all his protestations that they were just friends. Hermione seemed to take such rumors in stride and never paid them much attention, but Harry couldn’t bring himself to use those tactics. It wasn’t true that he and Hermione were together and he couldn’t let the lie stand unchallenged.

“Well, I’m glad that he didn’t take it badly,” Harry said after he finished reading. “I was awfully worried about that.”

“He’s our best friend. You should trust him more.” Hermione frowned. “And I do hope you trust me more.”

“I do . . . it’s just hard sometimes for me not to worry . . . it’s not that I don’t trust you precisely but—”

“You don’t. Not completely.” Hermione tilted her head. “Though I suppose it’s hard for anyone to trust anyone else completely, with each and every secret you have.”

“I do trust you though,” Harry insisted.

“I know and it’s enough,” she said. “And I’ve waited long enough for my coffee already!” With a large smile on her face, she moved forward to make her normal morning cup. She closed her eyes and took in the scent of the coffee before taking a sip. “It has been too long,” she continued, “since I had a decent cup.” Hermione walked to the table and took the seat next to Harry.

“You weren’t complaining yesterday with the instant coffee,” Harry noted. Deciding that he had waited long enough to eat breakfast, he started to eat, hoping that the eggs were still warm. Fortunately, they were along with everything else he had made that morning.

“The fact that I bought decent coffee yesterday when I was out shopping should speak for itself.” Hermione followed his example and placed a couple pieces of toast on her plate, buttering them as she spoke.

Harry nodded. “So . . . what do you think about Ron’s idea of us all meeting up?” he asked, changing the topic to Ron’s suggestion of a reunion.

“His idea?” Hermione glared at Harry. “That was my idea, thank you very much, that I asked him about when I wrote to him yesterday. And of course, I think it’s a good idea. I wouldn’t have suggested it otherwise.”

“Hmm . . . not to mention the fact that in case I need to trim your ego down to size, it’ll be good to have Ron as back up,” Harry teased, making Hermione roll her eyes in response. “But seriously, when would be a good time for us to meet? Today?”

“No, not today,” she said in between sips of coffee. “I’m going over to my parents’ house to pick up a few more things. I do think it’s better to meet sooner rather than later . . . just not today is all.”

“All right. The next couple weeks are fine for me as well. I just need to know when so I can schedule everything else around it. Any time that’s particularly good for you?”

“No, so it’s up to Ron, really. Can you write—”

“Back to him and tell him that? Yeah, I will. Do you need any help, by the way? With moving your things over?”

“If you have other things to do, then go ahead and do it,” Hermione said. “But if not, I wouldn’t say no if you helped me out.”

“Then I guess I will as I’ve nothing better to do. Besides, it will be good training I suppose. We all know that you can’t pack lightly. Too many books that you can’t live without.”

“Just for that, I’ll make sure to give you the heaviest things.”

“Do your worse. There’s always Wingardium Leviosa if you give me something that I can’t possibly lift.” Harry grinned. The day was going to be good. It had to be since he was getting to spend it with Hermione.