Charming

“I’m getting sick just by looking at this menu,” Ron declared, looking slightly green. “And I thought raw fish was bad! But raw eel?”

“I didn’t need to hear that Ron,” said Harry. He quietly put down his menu. “I’d ask you to order me something safe, Hermione, but I’m beginning to think that they don’t serve anything like that.”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Honestly, you two! You’re acting like children. Trust me, sushi is perfectly safe to eat.”

“It’s not that I don’t trust you,” Harry said with a wry smile, “but I’m not sure if I trust the chefs here.”

“Careful, Harry, you don’t want to say that too loud.” Ron dropped his voice down to a dramatic whisper. “I saw one of the cooks here earlier and he looked like he could take you apart with his bare hands.”

Hermione sighed audibly. Maybe it hadn’t been such a great idea to take Harry and Ron here, she thought. With all the grief I’ve been getting about them even trying sushi . . . hmm, maybe they’ll try it after a few drinks. “How about we get something to drink first?” she suggested.

“Is it safe to? I mean, don’t they have worms in their beer here?”

“Oh god.” Hermione dropped her head against the table. Is it too much to ask for Ron not to be so . . . so . . . so stupid? “No, they don’t put worms in their beer. I think that’s tequila and tequila isn’t Japanese.”

“If you’re not sure what it is that they put worms in . . .” Ron started.

“Well, excuse me for not knowing every single type of alcoholic beverage that exists in this world. I’ll make sure to find some books on the subject the next time I go to Flourish and Blotts.” She was quickly nearing the edge of her temper. Taking a deep breath and telling herself that she didn’t want to start an argument, she turned to Harry and asked, “Would you like anything to drink, Harry?”

“Just beer would be fine,” he agreed quickly. “And Ron’ll have one too.” Hermione whipped around to look at Ron’s reaction while Harry mouthed furiously at Ron to nod his head and agree.

“Yeah, that’s fine.” Ron smiled weakly. Hermione ordered their drinks and excused herself from the table, with a sharp look at both of them. As soon as she was out of sight, he slumped down. “Why did you have to agree to that? And make me agree to boot? You know she’s trying to get us pissed so we’ll actually eat some of that raw fish.”

“Better that than having her thinking up of interesting hexes to use on us all evening,” Harry countered. “Besides, if she’s wrong, you’ll finally get a chance to say ‘I told you so’ to her.”

“First you say that I should drink so Hermione won’t hex me, and then you say that as a benefit I could tell her ‘I told her so’? I can’t think of anything more likely to get her to whip out her wand and start throwing around spells!”

“Pipe down, Ron!” Harry urged. They were beginning to get strange looks from the other patrons in the restaurant.

“Sorry, I didn’t meant to get so loud there,” Ron said contritely. “You have to admit that you weren’t thinking clearly back there.” He looked at his friend suspiciously. “There isn’t anything between you and Hermione, is there?”

“No!” Harry blushed as the stares returned, this time focusing on him.

“No need to get excited about the subject. Ah thank you,” Ron said to the waitress as he accepted their drinks. He leaned back in his seat as he took a drink. “If there was any worms or other disgusting things in here, I’d be able to taste it, right? As it seems fine.” He took another long drink. “And now that you’ve so definitively answered the question of there being anything between you and Hermione . . . the next one is do you want there to be anything between you two?”

Harry took a long drink before answering. It was going to be a long night. “No, I am not interested in Hermione like that. We’re just friends, like I’ve told you before. So if you’re interested, I won’t stand in your way.”

“Oh that’s it.” Ron downed the rest of his beer in a single gulp and signaled the waitress to bring him another one. “No, I’m not interested in Hermione, thank you very much. We tried that once and it didn’t work out. I think she’s a wonderful witch and whoever wins her heart will be a lucky man . . . and I can’t help but think that perhaps you’re in denial over your feelings for her.”

Harry snorted. “And I think you’re in denial.”

“So any feelings at all for—”

“She’s like a sister to me.” Harry’s tone brooked no argument.

“All right, I’ll accept that for now. So . . . how’s living with her been like?”

“Let me guess, you’re expecting me to say something how I can’t imagine how I could ever live without her or something equally cheesy. Sorry mate but keep your day job. You’ll never make it as a matchmaker.”

Ron shrugged. “You never know. And you haven’t answered the question. How’s it like to live with Hermione?”

“Well, I’m not going to say it’s a dream come true. It’s really inconvenient at times. She has this awful habit of taking a shower just when I really need to use the loo.” Harry shook his head. “The first time I thought it was coincidence, but now I’m wondering about her sense of timing.”

“Oh . . . so any other horror stories?”

“No. Why, were you expecting some?” Harry asked. “This is Hermione after all. It isn’t the best set up, considering that my flat isn’t large . . . but sometimes I get the feeling that . . . ”

“That what?” Ron leaned forward. “Has she been acting strangely?”

“No. Well, aside from the fact that she decided to move in with me all of a sudden . . . and that’s enough on its own to make me worry.”

“Yeah, not surprised there mate.” Ron pushed his beer away nonchalantly. He tended to be a very talkative drunk, and he didn’t think it would be prudent for him to drink too much while he was alone with Harry. If he even hinted to Harry about his suspicions regarding Hermione’s feelings, Hermione would make his life a living hell, to put it mildly.

“Has she told you anything?” Harry pressed. “Each time I ask her if everything is all right, she just smiles and nods. And it’s bloody hard for me to believe that. Why would she move out of her parents’ house if everything was fine?”

“She’s told me that she did that as she thought it would be easier to find a job in the Wizarding World,” Ron replied. “And if you think about it, that makes sense. She can more easily apparate from your flat and use your fireplace in case anyone wants to ring her about a job. It would take a lot of paperwork for her to be able to do the same at her parents’ house.”

“Okay, I can accept that. But why me? Surely you’ve more room over at the Burrow.” Harry sighed in frustration. “And I realize that I’m sounding like—”

“No, no, I understand, Harry. Your flat is small and so it must be hard living with anyone else there. I think Hermione chose to live at your place because . . . . to be completely frank, she doesn’t get along too well with my mum. You know how it is.”

“Some advanced notice would have been nice. I could have looked for a larger flat.”

Ron hid a smile behind his hand. Despite all his protests, Harry would go to great lengths for Hermione and in Ron’s book that meant something. “She probably didn’t think that she’d need a place to stay in the Wizarding World herself,” he responded evenly. “And who knows? Maybe she did have some problems with her parents and doesn’t want to admit to it? She’ll tell you eventually if that’s the case. She always tells us . . . eventually. Like with the Time Turner in our third year.”

“Yeah, she does. Sometimes I wonder if she—”

“If I what?” Hermione sat down back at the table. “And I’ll hazard a guess that you two were talking about me behind my back.”

“As always, Hermione. Nothing bad of course.” Ron winked roguishly at her.

“Oh, of course! So would you mind leaving us alone for a bit Ron? Considering that you and Harry got a chance to talk about me, and we had our chance to talk about Harry earlier . . . I think it’s your turn.”

Ron bit down on an oh-so-tempting retort about what his friends would do when left alone. Hermione had really left herself open there but he had to remain silent. Or at least not say what he would really like to say. “I should think that you two get enough opportunity to do that, seeing as you live together. But back to the topic of food – can we convince you to order something safe for the both of us?” he asked.

“Of course,” she answered. She flipped open her menu and began to scan down the list of chicken and beef entrees, knowing that neither of her boys would take kindly to her ordering them anything raw. And they are still boys. Not willing to try anything too new really. Though I seem to recall reading some place that people’s tastes get set early in childhood . . . that if you’re not accustomed to eating spicy food when you’re young, you’ll never get used to it. I wonder if it’s too late already for them.

“Are you going to order any time tonight?” Ron asked. “Or should we consider sending out for pizza?”

Hermione rolled her eyes. I seem to do that a lot around Ron . . . well around both the boys, but less often around Harry. Maybe because he’s more adorable than Ron when clueless? She blushed at that thought. And I think I’d best change my train of thought unless I want to make a fool of myself in public. “You sure know how to charm a girl, don’t you?” she shot at Ron in an effort to distract herself.

“Yes, but to my eternal despair, it never worked on you.”

“I wonder why.”

“You know, it’s been a long day for me,” Harry said. “And I would very much appreciate it if we could get back to the subject of ordering, especially as the waitress is heading back this way.”

“As you wish.” Hermione quickly glanced one last time at the menu and missed the look exchanged by the boys.

“Are you ready to order now?” The waitress asked as she stopped before their table. “Or do you need a few more minutes?”

“Oh, we’re ready now,” Hermione said. “I’ll have the chirashi and these two will have . . . oyakodon. Because that’s what their conversation is like.”

The waitress nodded as she took down their orders, clearly not understanding what Hermione was talking about. As soon as she left, Ron leaned over towards Hermione.

“What did you mean, that’s what our conversation is like?”

“Oyakodon is a dish with both chicken and egg. So I’m saying your conversation is like that age-old question of which came first – it never ends, and it loops around in circles constantly.”

“You know, Hermione, sometimes your remarks are so smart, no one else could possibly understand them.”

Hermione narrowed her eyes at Ron. “I’m not sure if I should take that as a compliment.”

“But it was.”

“And why should I believe that?”

“Because you love me?”

“Love,” she said, “is a wholly inadequate word to describe what I feel for you. Not that I don’t care for you . . . but sometimes I feel like you’re my little brother who I have to put up with.”

“Odd that, seeing as I’m older than you.”

“By only six months.”

“It’s still six months.”

“But you’re a boy—”

“A man, Hermione. I’m a man,” Ron said.

“Same difference.”

“It’s a world of difference, isn’t it Harry?”

“I’m not going to get in between you two on this one,” Harry said hurriedly.

“You disappoint me. What kind of best friend are you?”

“The kind that would like to live to see his next birthday,” Harry said with a straight face.

“Really? Never noticed that before,” Ron parried back. “But in any case, six months is six months. You should think of me as your older, not your younger, brother, Hermione.”

“Ah, but as I was going to say before I was interrupted, you’re a boy—”

“Man.”

“Same thing.”

“There’s no real point debating that with you, is there?”

“Anyway, as a boy you tend to grow up more slowly than girls do. So it doesn’t matter if you’re six months older or six years older . . . or even sixty years for that matter On a mental development scale, you’re younger than me and so I think of you as my younger brother.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes, it is.”

“Well, that’s too bad.”

“Why?”

“Because an older brother would sort of be bound to feel responsible and tell you about that Ministry position that opened up. But younger brothers are infamous for being irresponsible and—”

“Ron! Tell me!” Hermione latched on to his arm and began to shake it.

“I’m sorry, Hermione, truly I am, but I can’t seem to recall it—”

“Tell or else I’ll—”

“Hex me? Isn’t that childish? What sort of example are you setting for your younger brother?”

Hermione sighed and crossed her arms. “I wasn’t about to threaten to hex you. I’ll just tell your mum about the time that you decided to break out—”

“Hermione!” Ron exclaimed. “You promised never to tell anyone about that!”

“Did I?” she said. “I can’t seem to recall ever making such a promise.”

“What did you do this time around, Ron?” Harry asked.

“Sorry, mate, it’s a secret. From everyone.”

“Not from Hermione.”

“That’s because I have horrid luck at times,” Ron sighed.

Hermione smirked at Ron before turning her attention to Harry. “Oh, it was absolutely hilarious. You see, he—”

“Hermione, please!”

“But why? Surely, there’s no harm in telling Harry.”

“Tell Harry what?”

“Nothing!” Ron took a deep breath to calm down. It was very unfair of Hermione to use that against him, but there wasn’t much he could do. “Besides, we were talking about whether Hermione should apply for that position at the Department of Mythological Menaces.”

“Really?” Hermione clasped her hands together excitedly.

“Yes really. I hear it’s some sort of research position . . . that they want to subdivide the duties of one of their specialists or something like that. Dad knows more about it. He’s the one who mentioned it to me and said he’d recommend you if you’d like.”

“Oh, thank you, Ron!” Hermione beamed.

“Don’t thank me, thank Dad. And don’t mention it, okay?”

“Can’t even remember what we were talking about before.”

“Good.”

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

The idea of going to a Japanese restaurant hadn’t been that bad at all. In fact, Harry had enjoyed his food and the company. But then, he always liked being with his best friends Well, most of the time.

What had been a very bad idea was the contest after dinner to see who could drink more sake. He should have put his foot down from the start with that one. Of course, that might not have done much good, seeing how Ron had been teasing Hermione about not being able to hold down her liquor. Though he would have thought she was more sensible than that—

Certainly more sensible than to drink so much that he wound up having to carry her home piggyback. While impaired, he noted mentally. Very impaired But it was worth it. Drank both of them under the table. Lightweights, the both of them. But those stairs look scary. And she weighs a ton . . . oops, didn’t say that out loud, did I? Though doesn’t matter, she’s sleeping anyway. And drooling. On my good shirt. Not ladylike at all, that. He grunted as he shifted Hermione so she was more centered on his back. If he was going to attempt those stairs, he ought to be as balanced as possible.

“We need to put you on a diet,” he remarked to the sleeping Hermione. “You’re much too heavy now.”

Thump went Hermione’s fist against his chest. “Heard that,” she mumbled.

“Ouch. You pack quite a punch.”

“Not nice to say that.”

“Not nice to make me carry you home.”

“Didn’t make you.”

“What was I gonna do – leave you there in the restaurant? They’d have kicked you out in the streets.”

“Don’t know that.”

“Don’t need to know that.” Harry stopped halfway up the stairs, needing to catch his breath. This would’ve been easier if she was asleep, he thought She seems to weigh more when she talks.

“Sorry Harry,” Hermione said out of the blue

“Why?” he asked.

“’Bout earlier. Shouldn’t’ve teased you like that . . .”

“Like what?” Harry was thoroughly confused as to what Hermione was talking about Figures, he thought. Even when she’s dead drunk, she can still out think me.

“’Bout that thing with Ron . . . how he made himself a fool when at Hogwarts.”

“You’re drunk. Can’t hardly understand you,” Harry sighed. “Was it really bad?”

“Fucking hilarious. Almost killed myself laughing.”

“You’re really drunk, aren’t you?” Harry asked, not needing an answer. Hermione only spoke like that when she was absolutely wasted “Next time, I’ll take the bottle away from you.”

“No!”

“Yes. Not good for you to drink so much.”

“But that’d be mean.”

“So? You were mean to me earlier by teasing me like that.”

“Said I was sorry.”

“If you were sorry, you’d tell.”

“Not my secret to tell.”

“I guess so.” Harry understood where Hermione was coming from, but he couldn’t help but feel left out.

“Sorry,” Hermione said again.

“I know you are.”

“No . . . I mean yeah . . . no, I mean sorry you feel left out.”

Despite the circumstances, Harry smiled. Hermione could be very perceptive when it came to his feelings. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Always worry about you.” She suddenly clenched her arms tighter around him, making it hard for him to breathe. “Love you,” she mumbled.

“Love you too,” he said, “but would love you more if you let me breathe.”

“Oh right. Sorry.”

Hermione’s arms relaxed from around him, and he gratefully took deep breaths of fresh air. “You’re a very sorry person tonight, aren’t you?” he said.

“Yeah. I’m pathetic.”

“No you’re not.”

“Yes I am. Can’t do anything without you boys.”

“That’s not true ‘Sides, you’d do better if you’d stop worrying about us. We’re grown men. We can take care of ourselves.”

“Can you?”

“Of course we—”

“No, not worried about Ron. He has his family to help him. Always worried about you.”

“Sorry.”

She snorted. “Now we’re both pathetic.”

“Heh . . . maybe . . . but we do all right when we’re together right?” he asked. However, the only reply he received was Hermione slumping her head against his shoulder. Turning his head to look at her, he saw that she had fallen asleep once again. Should get going while she’s asleep, he thought. That way she won’t be as heavy. With that thought, he continued on his trek up towards his flat.