Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Hermione Full of Grace	By : AdamantEve Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Harry/Hermione Views: 13378 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 3
- 4
- 5
SPECIAL
THANKS to my beta reader Aurabolt! And I can�t thank my reviewers enough. ^_^ I had sent this
story as my first application to Portkey and while I
wasn�t denied, I�m afraid I hadn�t made a good first impression with the mods. I had to send
a different story which, thankfully, got approved! So now I can put this story out and I�m so
glad to get favorable responses!

Standard
disclaimers apply.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter Three � Rainbows in the Crystal

In which Hermione is
disappointed and vengeful; Harry concerned and freaked-out; and Ron bemused and
exasperated.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When Hermione opened her eyes that morning, she realized
that it was Saturday, and that the previous night, she had received a letter
from none other than Mr. Thane Archibald and Mr. Winston Heartcomb
telling her that while they thought her too young to be of much use to them,
they would, nevertheless, tolerate her presence, and assistance, in their most
honorable office. They pointed out that
they originally intended to give her peanuts as payment (literally, and she had
to shell them herself), but upon consultation with Minerva McGonagall, they
decided on a rather sizable amount (�Enough to feed the whole of Westminster, if you ask me!� wrote
Archibald.)

In actuality it was standard Ministry rates; perhaps a
little bit higher, probably on account of McGonagall�s interference. No doubt, her dear professor had played up
the whole most brilliant witch of her age thing.

It wouldn�t have mattered much to Hermione. She had every intention of doing a lot more
than she was paid to do, and as long as she had ideas for Fred and George, she
would have a pretty comfortable income besides.

Hermione smiled and challenged the brilliant rays of the
sun streaming through her third story window.
When Harry and Ron decided during her coma that they would live together
in Grimmauld Place, they also decided their rooms
would all be on the third floor. Ron
would�ve wanted the attic (the preference had everything to do with his Burrow
life, of course), but they weren�t sure if the ghoul in the upstairs toilet was
really gone or merely in hiding, and Ron wasn�t keen on the idea that he could
be attacked by a murderous ghoul while he was on the crapper.

�It�s no way for a man to die, Harry. On the loo? No way, at all!� he had said.

So now they had all their rooms on the third floor, all of
them facing East.

Drowsy but excited to begin the day, she crawled out of
her large bed and went straight to her bathroom.

Her personal
bathroom, once old and spitting rust from its pipes, was now a mosaic of color
and charm. Its tiles were pristine, the
knobs on its shower stall and sink gleaming pearly porcelain, and its curtains
a perfect complement to everything else.
She had her own tub, which was by Ron and Harry�s standards too tiny,
but it was perfect for her. She had pink
candles all around that didn�t drip wax and the enchanted ceiling overhead
showed puffy white clouds during the day and a star spangled sky at night. But no matter the hour, it always smelled
like lilac and sweet peas; her favorite bath scents. The scent was her shampoo, her soap, her
lotion, her scrubs; Harry and Ron thought it was a grand mystery.

�How come her
bathroom smells great while our bathroom� doesn�t?� Ron had once asked while he
and Harry rummaged through her supply cabinet for mouthwash.

�I dunno,� said Harry.
�But girls� bathrooms get that way.
Hey, now! Don�t these salts smell
wonderful? Like raspberries and strawberries.�

�Give me that. D�you reckon it
tastes good?�

Hermione had, of course, caught them red handed, and Ron
had the audacity to ask her, �Let me get this straight: This taaam-ponnn goes
where?�

They never got to see the inside of her bathroom again after
that, but every time she remembered the incident, she was glad she kept her
bathroom sparkly clean and smelling great.

She took her sweet time showering, as was her wont,
singing, as was also her wont. She liked
the sound of her voice in her acoustically sound bathroom. When she was done, she prettied herself up in
her best house clothes and, knowing she was the earliest one up, decided she
would make a really good breakfast for her boys. They would be having sausages, eggs and
waffles while she told them about her new job and the wonderful things that
came with it. Then perhaps later, they
can celebrate by eating out and watching a Muggle
Movie, her treat. Ron would love
that. He loves the movies. He found it fascinating.

Crookshanks was outside her door when she
stepped out and he meowed piteously, rubbing against her legs.

Hermione patted him, making her way to the stairs.

She passed Ron�s bedroom door. She paused briefly and reached out to turn
the knob. It was locked.

Well, at least he�s
home.

She hurried down to the kitchens and was struck by the
sight of Ron sprawled out on the couch, his robes in complete disarray. His long red hair was a tangled mess and he
was hugging his Firebolt like a sword. He had taken one shoe off, forgetting to
remove the other, but since it was the shoeless foot he had up on the couch,
she decided she wasn�t going to throw a fit.
He was snoring and the sound of it reverberated through the room.

He also reeked of alcohol.

Hermione rolled her eyes.
She supposed she would have to brew very strong coffee, and she didn�t
even want to ask why Ron�s bedroom door was locked.

She left him there as she fed Crookshanks
and made breakfast. She took special
care making her waffles, adding a dab of mayonnaise to the batter and giggling
at the remembrance of Harry and Ron wondering out loud how in the world she
made them taste so good, all crunchy on the outside and fluffy on the
inside.

�Even mum don�t make them this good,� said Ron. �Don�t tell her I said that.�

She happily assembled breakfast. The coffee, sausages and eggs were perfect
when she heard Harry�s footsteps on the stairs.
He stopped for a few seconds, probably to absorb the sight of Ron,
before he headed for the kitchen.

She smiled at him.
�Good morning, Harry!�

He smiled back, heading straight for the coffeemaker. He gave her the briefest once over before
getting a mug to pour himself some coffee.
�Great breakfast, good coffee, and you, looking rather cute in your
sundress. What�s the occasion?�

She blushed at the compliment. �I�ll tell you later. First, I have to wake up Ron.� She poured coffee into a mug and dug out a
magically preserved potion in a vial from one of their many drawers. She used her wand to relieve it from
suspension and poured the vial�s contents into Ron�s coffee. It was a hang-over potion and it should work
within minutes after ingestion. She went
back to the living room.

She set the mug aside and heard Harry following behind her
to watch the morning entertainment.

Ignoring Harry, she bent over Ron and shook him by the
shoulder gently. �Ron? Ron, dear, wake up.�

�Five more minutes mum�� he muttered, shrugging his
shoulder away from her.

Hermione pursed her lips and she heard Harry snickering. She loved Molly Weasley,
but goodness knows she could hardly be mistaken for the kind matronly woman.

She shook him again and he groaned, turning over to show
his back to her.

�Shove off, Renee.
I did all the work last night��

Hermione heard a ringing in her ears like never
before. What did he call me? �Ronald
Bilius Weasley!� she
shrieked, slapping him pertly on his forehead.
�Do I look like one of your bimbos?�

The slap woke him in a hurry and he sat up, eyes
half-closed. �Gah! Son of a�that hurt, you bi��

�You just try and call me by that infernal name, Ronald Bilius Weasley!� she yelled.

Ron fell off the couch in his panic, his horrified gaze
trained on her face as he realized his mistake just right before he made
it. �Fuc�S-Sorry! Shhhite!� He
moaned in pain, hands to his head. He
valiantly went on. �Wasn�t going to say
it, really! Not to you--!�

She glared at him.
�Your mother would be ashamed that you even know how to use the word,
you git! How could you?�

�I wasn�t going to call you that!� He winced.
�Merlin, what time is it?�

�Nine in the morning,� said Harry as he drank his
coffee. He wasn�t smiling, but his eyes
sparkled. He was vastly amused by all
this.

�Nine in the morning!� cried Ron. �Too early for a shit storm, I tell you.�

�Humph!� she said, holding out the coffee she brought
him. �Here. Drink this, then.�

Ron looked at it suspiciously.

Hermione scowled.
�What are you waiting for? It�s
not poisoned! If I wanted to poison you,
I�d be more creative than putting it in your coffee.�

�It�s terrifying how true that is,� he said, taking the
cup and finally drinking from it. The
potion was designed to have a few immediate effects and it showed on Ron�s
face. Some of the crinkling around his
eyes cleared. �Blimey, that�s good�
thanks.�

�That�s better. Now
if you can get your half-drunk arse off the floor,
maybe I�ll let you join Harry and I for breakfast.� She left him, and Harry followed right after
her, the morning entertainment done.

It was awful, the way Ron carried on sometimes after his
nights out. She was never angry when she
saw him; not really, just that even with the Whereabouts Clock, she found she
was often so relieved to see him at home and alive. However, when the relief came, that was when
things sort of rushed out of her. It was
only lately she understood why Molly Weasley carried
on the way she did with her children, fussing over them as if they were still
in diapers.

�Honestly, when is he going to grow up?� she asked out
loud as she began to cook the waffle batter.

Harry grinned, waving his wand to set the table. �You�re expecting him to? That�s giving him rather too much credit.�

�I heard that!� cried Ron.

She exchanged grins with Harry.

When the table was set and she had all the waffles ready,
she called Ron over impatiently. �Get your arse over
her, Ron!�

Ron ambled in, wincing while he tried to keep his head
steady. No doubt he had a hangover
headache the size of Great Britain, but the potion should take care of it soon
enough.

�If breakfast didn�t smell so good, I wouldn�t put up with
your nagging, I�ll tell you that,� grumbled Ron, plopping down on a chair.

She scowled as she passed the butter to Harry. �Don�t go blaming us for your hangover,
Ron. If you weren�t so hell bent on
making yourself dead pissed before coming home, you wouldn�t have locked
yourself out of your room by accident.�

�I�d have been able to open it with a simple alohomora or apparated inside it if you hadn�t
made the locking charms in this house so damn complicated��

�And have you boys walk into my room while I�m in my
knickers? No way!�

Ron grinned broadly.
�Like I said, �too damn complicated�.�

She blushed as she glared at him. �Oh, shut it, Ron! Besides, do you really want to be apparating while you�re intoxicated? I�m sure
you�d splinch yourself sterile.�

Ron scowled, muttering, �I splinch
my eyebrows once� just once and I�m
Mr. Splinch-It forever.�

Harry levitated a blueberry and darted it straight at Ron.
Ron flicked his wand and splattered it to bits with a muttered Eruptio. Unfortunately, his half-pissed aim caused
the bits to blow up in his face.

Harry laughed, piercing a piece of sausage. �Great aim.
That hang-over potion working yet?�
He ate the sausage, chortling.

Ron wiped off the bits of blueberry with his napkin. �Before the pair of you convict me of my
crimes, I�ll have you know that last night, I was trying to get a job.�

Well, that did manage to void all her thoughts, and seeing
as Harry had left his fork stuck in his mouth as he stared at Ron, Harry was
quite nonplussed himself.

And then her senses began to return to her and she
frowned. �Oh, honestly, Ron! That�s disgusting! I�d ask you not to bring such things up while
we�re eating!�

Harry sputtered and it looked as if the sausage was going
down the wrong way. Concerned, Hermione
began to slap his back to help him.

Ron�s eyes widened.
�What? Bloody hell! I wasn�t talking about a hand job! I was talking about a real job! A means to a career!�

Distracted by Harry�s conniption fits, Hermione continued
to berate Ron while she gave Harry a glass of water. �What kind of a job is it if you have to get drunk trying to get it? I don�t think this job�whatever it is�is good
for you and��

�Chudley Cannons need a new
manager. I put in my resume two weeks
ago and the owner called me in for a dinner meeting last night. He doesn�t know if I can do it properly right
off the bat, but he said the publicity I could generate just being myself would
help the team loads, and it�ll be worth having to train me for a
quarter-of-a-year. Naturally, when he
invited me to have a few drinks with him and his cronies, I couldn�t say no, so
off I went, getting pissed, but I got the job, too.�

There was another several seconds of silence before it
finally hit her.

When it did, she was filled with gladness and pride. It was everything Ron wanted. To get a job
with the Chudley Cannons! She would have thought he�d
be playing with the team instead of working for it, but a manager�s job
suited his talents better. He may have
been a Keeper in Hogwarts, but he wasn�t a particularly brilliant one. Team Manager for the Chudley
Cannons was perfect for him.

She jumped out of her seat and threw her arms around him,
smiling. �Oh, Ron! I�m so proud of you! This is wonderful news! You have a job!�

Harry was beside them, clapping Ron on the back
jubilantly and shaking his hand with brimming enthusiasm.

�Listen to this woman, why don�t you?� cried Ron. �I can�t tell if she�s happy I got the job or
happy I have a job, as if I were some bum on the streets��

Hermione pulled away from him, laughing as she dealt him a
light, playful slap. �Oh, hush Ron. I�m happy about both. It�s no proper thing for an intelligent man
like yourself to live off your popularity.
Popularity fades, you know.�

Harry laughed. �She
thinks you�re intelligent, Ron!�

Ron grinned. �Shut
it, Potter! What she doesn�t know won�t
hurt her. But I�ll have you know, mum,
that the only reason I got this job in the first place is because I am popular.�

�That�s true, but by the time your popularity runs out,
you�d have been trained to do the job well and they wouldn�t dream of sacking
you, then,� Hermione said, returning to her seat.

�You�ve got it all figured out, haven�t you?� said Ron,
taking his utensils and beginning to assemble his waffle breakfast. �So am I forgiven for coming home drunk?�

�I don�t know,� she replied. �What do you think, Harry?�

Harry was pouring maple syrup on his waffles as he
smiled. �Do we get front row seating at Quidditch games for the rest of our lives?�

�At least!� said Ron.

�Then yes, we forgive you.�

Hermione frowned.
�Well, that�s not fair. I don�t
care much for Quidditch. What�s in it for me?�

Ron�s eyes twinkled. �You do have a penchant for Quidditch Seekers.
Maybe I can introduce you to Galvin Gudgeon.�

Hermione felt her face grow so hot from embarrassment that
she wanted to hex Ron for it. It wasn�t
so much that he wanted to introduce her to Gudgeon, nor was it the fact that
she happened to attract the Bulgarian Quidditch
Seeker, Viktor Krum, but it was the fact that she did have very deep feelings
for the Gryffindor Seeker and he was sitting right there that made her
want to crawl underneath a rock and hide.

�D-Don�t even think about it!� she cried.

�Shut it, Ron!� said Harry, his ears pink.

Oh, goodness, I think he�s thinking it, too! How awkward!
she
thought miserably.

She scrambled to steer the conversation to safer
waters. �So, Ron, when do you
start? Do they pay you while they�re
training you?�

He nodded. �Oh,
absolutely, but not much while they�re teaching me the brooms. After I�m officially trained, I�ll get the
regular manager�s pay, which isn�t bad pay at all! I�ll start training on Monday, so it�s all
good.�

Harry cut his waffle. �Ron, you do realize that once you
start this job, you can�t go partying every night anymore, right?�

Ron rolled his eyes.
�Listen to yourself, Harry.
You�re beginning to sound like Hermione!
Of course the partying will stop!
Or at least lessen��

She exchanged amused glances with Harry.

It suddenly occurred to her that she had great news, too,
and while her job was a little less�well, a lot less, really�glamorous than
Ron�s, it was important enough to steal the limelight from him. She would be putting away Death Eaters, for
goodness sake! The mere concept of it
would eclipse Ron�s grand news, so she decided to put off telling them and
letting Ron enjoy the moment. She could
tell them later, when she took them out in her parents� car. Ron and Harry liked riding the BMW. They said she drove like a maniac and that
was the best part.

�So we should celebrate tonight, then!� she said by way of
introducing the idea. �I can drive us
around London, have dinner then see a movie. I�ll treat!
What do you boys think?�

Both boys winced.
Not good.

�Shacklebolt has me in for the
entire day and I�m not sure what time he�ll let me go,� said Harry.

Hermione frowned.
�On a Saturday?�

�Er�Auror�s
job is never done? I can definitely
follow if Shacklebolt lets me off early enough,
though. I can use the mobile to call
you. Sound good, Hermione?�

Hermione�s frown morphed into a smile. That was certainly a workable arrangement.

�I�ve a date tonight,� said Ron with an apologetic
grimace. �Sorry. But I really appreciate
your wanting to celebrate, Hermione.�

Harry shot Ron a glare and Ron shrugged helplessly.

Her enthusiasm deflated completely. What was the point of celebrating Ron�s job
if Ron wasn�t there? And she wanted to tell them both about her job,
too. Was it too much to ask to have her
best friends with her on a night out in London?

Bugger.

She pouted.
Really pouted.

Ron gave an audible sigh. �Well, don�t get like that! It wouldn�t be
polite of me to cancel on her in the last minute.�

�It�s fine, Ron,� she said. She couldn�t hide the dejection from her
tone.

�I might be here tonight,� said Harry, by way of
making her feel better. �We can watch
soaps on the Eklectic Telly.�

Eklectic Telly. That�s what they called it to tease
Ron. Ron thought it was a brilliant
device, but he was too afraid that he�d get �eklectricuted�
to ever turn it on himself in he could help it.
Harry had to have the power supply specially installed, and since it was
rare to have a Wizard electrician, Harry had to pay a lot of galleons to make
it work, but he wanted the T.V., possibly because the Dursleys
had deprived him of it all his life and now he wanted one of his own.

�You might be here,� said Hermione. She was in no mood to be cheered up. She seriously needed a life if her going out
was completely dependent on Ron and Harry�s free time. �It�s alright, Harry. I�ll just��

There was a tapping on the windowpane. It was Hedwig again, and this time, aside
from the letters, she carried an elegantly wrapped box. The gold wrap shimmered against the light,
throwing rainbows off the windows and cupboards. The ribbon holding it slowly flashed various
colors in deep shades.

Harry got up to fetch the mail. Hedwig was soon off and Harry was back on the
table. He handed the package to
Hermione. �Says it�s for you.�

Hermione blinked.
�Odd� who would�� She looked at the tag and the sender�s name was
magically revealed to her. It was from Lysander. �What in
the world��

She took hold of one end of the ribbon and started
to pull.

Harry and Ron yelled for her to stop.

�Aren�t you going to check for dangerous spells?�
Harry cried.

Ron scowled.
�Blimey, Hermione! I thought you were the smart one.�

She
frowned. �Oh, both of you are being
ridiculous! Ly�Mr. Athanasius
wouldn�t hex me.�

Ron�s brows
knotted. �Who?�

Harry�s
eyebrow arched, his look of panic replaced with an unreadable calm. �Athanasius. Wizard billionaire. Hermione met him yesterday.�

�What�s a
billionaire doing sending you fancy packages, Hermione?�

She decided
to ignore them both, unwrapping the box while conscious of the expectant looks
on the boys� faces. She opened the box
and gasped at what she saw inside. She
brought it out. It was a perfectly cut crystal image of an Elf in Muggle Corporate attire.

She
laughed, getting the joke. �Brilliant!�
she said.

�What in
hell is it?� asked Ron.

Suddenly,
she didn�t feel like explaining. Not to
them. It wasn�t their fault they had
lives, and she should really have her own, but she couldn�t help but feel a bit
abandoned by them, so she let herself be a bit snitty.

�It�s an
Elf,� she said loftily.

�An elf
doesn�t dress like that,� Harry pointed out.

�This does,� she replied, her eyes flashing. �Unlike some people I know, Mr. Athanasius has shown a genuine interest in Elf Rights. Now, if you�ll excuse me, I think I�ll skip
the rest of breakfast. I have a bit of
shopping to do.�

She needed
to buy a Muggle cocktail dress, and shoes to match,
of course.

Her boys
had let her down, tonight. It was time
she gave other boys a chance.

000000000000000000000000000

Harry went
to work that afternoon and gladly found himself being released earlier than he
expected. He rushed to the fireplaces to
get home. He wasn�t sure why he was in
such a hurry, but he thought maybe if he got home early, Hermione wouldn�t feel
so bad about not going out, and he�d feel less guilty about all of it.

He was
painfully aware of how badly he and Ron had neglected Hermione in the last few
months. It wasn�t so bad when they were all trying to cope with the End of War
fanfare. The interviews and publicity
had kept them all preoccupied, but these past couple of months, when she and he
began distancing themselves from the hoopla by finding jobs, he knew he hadn�t
spent as much time with her as he should have.

He wasn�t
sure if Ron realized it yet, but Harry did, and he felt terrible for it.

When Hermione
was in her coma, he had promised, with everything he had, that he would never
take Hermione for granted again. He
promised to take care of her, and protect her if it was necessary. It was easy enough to believe he would do as
he promised while she lay unconsciously close to death, but now that everything
was near to perfect, he knew he wasn�t fulfilling his promises at all. Or else, he was doing a half-arsed job of it.

And it
wasn�t as if he didn�t like taking care of her.
It was a joy, really. Seeing her
happy in his and Ron�s company was just too delightful a thing to pass up, but
his schedule� he wished he had a time turner. So he could give her the time she deserved.

The memory
of her disappointment at breakfast broke his heart for the nth time that
day. She had something important to tell
them; he remembered her saying that, but apparently, she had forgone it, opting
instead to be happy for Ron and his new job.
She probably didn�t know Harry knew it, but he did, and he felt so bad
that she put off her own news to celebrate for Ron then got turned down
dismally when she offered to take them out tonight.

And then
that elf figurine came.

Harry
frowned. What the hell is Lysander Athanasius
doing sending her little crystal elves?
Thinks he�s being funny, isn�t he?
Well, ha-ha-bloody-ha!

The git�s romancing her.
Fucking Bugger�

He didn�t
have anything against wizard billionaires, per se; they were capital fellows
when they weren�t Death Eaters and when they weren�t going after dear little
Hermione.

Of course,
they could have been scrubbing toilets for a living and Harry would still be at
their throats.

It had
nothing to do with a wizard�s career, or how rich (or poor) he was. Unless Harry was sure, beyond reasonable
doubt, that the blokes weren�t prats, none of them
were allowed to get near her without his watchful eyes in the background.

And then
there was Ron, the idiot who let Hermione slip from his fingers. Harry was so ready to see Hermione
happy with Ron, but nooo. Ron had to go and snog
Lavender; he had to go snog the whole of Wizarding Europe!

There went
the only man he would ever trust Hermione�s heart to. Now she was left to consider prats like Viktor Krum and Lysander
Athanasius.

Why�d they
have to be so damn impressive? An
International Quidditch star? A business mogul billionaire? This would�ve been so much easier if they
were intellectual losers and dorky dolts, he thought grimly. But I suppose Hermione wouldn�t attract
deadbeats. The lot of them would be too intimidated
to try. Of course she�d be hauling in
the big-shots.

Like I said:
Buggers.

He couldn�t
be blamed for being so partial, at least not since he realized just what all
his vacant staring at her in the last two and a half years meant. All sorts of things shifted while she was sleeping,
and a few weeks after she woke, he realized two things: (1) He was in love with his best friend; and
(2) Had been in love with her for the better part of two and a half years. Why hadn�t he realized it sooner? Well, there was Voldemort,
see�

So bloody well
Avada Kedavra me if I have
feelings for her. That�s not my fault,
is it?

And it
wasn�t, really. One such as himself
couldn�t be expected to maintain platonic feelings with one such as herself who
saved his life countless times and was willing to pay the ultimate sacrifice
for him. It couldn�t be helped either
that the mere memory of her willingness to stick by him through the best and
worse of times warmed him to the point of desire. It was completely natural that he would have
these feelings, and he�d be damned to hell if he sat back and let some moron
come along and sweep her off her feet; at least not without his approval.

Of course
he could�ve just told her his feelings, but he already decided that it
wouldn�t do. He had three reasons�well,
just one, really, but originally, there were three: First, she apparently didn�t have that kind
of interest in him.

Out of all
the women that had ever been part of his life before and after seventh year, she hadn�t shown a modicum of jealousy, not one blessed
hint. The only reason he went out with
those women at all was to find someone he could �move on� with. Someone who could make him forget.

That
hurt. That sucked, but if he lost her
friendship because he was fool enough to confess, he�d probably go mental.

Secondly,
he knew (or thought) Ron fancied her, and Ron was his best friend, so Harry
wasn�t exactly about to do something as horrible as try to take Hermione away
from Ron. Harry thought it was bad enough
that he, Ron�s best friend, had gone and dated Ginny; he should have been
thankful Ron hadn�t renounced their friendship right then and there.

Lastly, he
thought Hermione fancied Ron, what with all those canaries�

Obviously,
the last two reasons no longer applied, but it didn�t mean the first reason
wasn�t any less significant.

So that was
the way it was, and the best he could hope for was letting some worthy bloke
have her.

It was
supposed to be Ron�

And now it
seemed it couldn�t be.

He had to
hurry home. He just had to. Whatever the reason, the need was urgent,
like something in his head was telling him that he had to get home.

He almost
crashed into Tonks as he rounded a corner.

�Wotcher, Harry!� Her
green hair trembled.

�Sorry!� He
skidded to a halt to avoid colliding with her, then he made a sharp turn to go
on his merry way.

It was seven thirty in the evening and perhaps Hermione hadn�t
reached full-mope.

His trip to
the Atrium, up the elevator to Muggle London and his
subsequent apparition into 12 Grimmauld
Place
took about ten minutes (the phone booth was pretty crowded).

The lights
in the house were still on so at least that meant Hermione wasn�t moping in the
library. He was just about to make a
stop at the kitchen for some pumpkin juice when he thought he saw a most
astonishing sight pass the kitchen entrance.

It had been
a blur of maroon and purple, red shoes and shimmering brown ringlets of
hair. And there was skin. Lots
of it.

He stumbled
out in the hallway and found Hermione in a cocktail dress, busily rummaging
through her matching purse. The fancy
envelope she received the other night was tucked between her fingers.

He took the
briefest moment to absorb her look. The
length of the skirt reached her knees, but her arms, shoulders and back were
bare except for the two string-like straps that were dubiously delicate. She had a necklace on; an intricate beadwork
choker up front that had a diamond shaped ruby-like stone hanging from a chain
like a pendulum down her back. It was
harmless, by itself, but sliding down her spine like that, it made him want to
see exactly what the stone was pointing to.

Harry had to control his temper. Where was she going and where was she going in
that?

�Where the hell�s the rest of the dress?� he cried
before he could stop himself.

Hermione looked up in surprise, blushed, then
scowled. �There�s nothing wrong with the
dress. It�s perfect.�

�For what?�

She narrowed her gaze at him before she decided
she�d be haughty, instead of angry. �For
a gallery opening; a perfectly respectable gallery opening, thank you very
much, and I�d appreciate it if you don�t make me feel like a slag.�

His face warmed, feeling the tiniest bit ashamed. �Sorry,� he muttered. �You don�t�you don�t look like a slag. You look great, but shouldn�t you� I don�t
know, cover up� a little. Shawl,
maybe�?�

�It�s the way the dress is supposed to be,
Harry.� She dealt him a weary look
before walking past him to go to the reception hall.

He followed.
She really did look fantastic in her cocktail couture, and as far as Muggle clothing went, it was terribly tasteful, but�

Who�s she
dressed up for?

Seeing her now in her Muggle
finery was astonishing, distressing and sexy all at the same time.

�So where is this gallery supposed to be?� he asked,
wondering if the straps of her dress were holding the dress up or whether they
were purely ornamental.

�In Paddington.�
She looked into the mirror while she put on lipstick, setting down her
bag and the envelope on the small table in front of her.

�Paddington!
You�re going to drive all the way there on your own? I�m going with you.�

�What are you talking about?� she cried. �It�s barely three miles away! And I�m
going to apparate there, Harry.
Honestly! Sometimes you�re more muggle than I am.
And no, you cannot come with me.�

�And why not?�

�Because�Because it�s by invitation only!� She blushed again, pulling her gaze away from
him as she fluffed her hair.

The mirror spoke. �You look wonderful, Ms.
Granger! Fabulous! Gorgeous!
You�ll��

Shut it! he wanted to yell. �Look, Hermione, it�s late. You really shouldn�t be out on your own. Lots of crazy people out there��

�Newsflash!
The war�s over. It�s not as
dangerous as it used to be.�

�Who said anything about Dark Wizards? Do you even remember how awful muggles could be?
They�ll stick you up with a switchblade for twenty pounds!�

�Oh, honestly, don�t be such a drama king,� she
hissed irritably.

Ron, possibly drawn by the sound of bickering,
appeared from the other entrance. He
stopped in his tracks to stare at Hermione and he scowled. �Well, what in hell is that on you? Are you sure that�s all of it?�

Harry made a �told you so� sound and crossed his
arms over his chest. She dealt him
another glare before transferring it to Ron.
This time, she looked to have crossed her limit.

�It�s a perfectly decent dress!� she yelled.

�It�s clinging to you for dear life! Are those
straps even useful? What the hell kind
of jewelry is that? It�s practically
saying �Look here!��

�Argh! Just you two leave me alone!� she cried,
stomping her perfectly clad foot, high-heels giving a satisfying clop on the
wooden floor. �I asked you two to go out
tonight but you were both too damn busy, so what the hell am I suppose to
do? Wait and jump at the chance for when
you�re free? Well, no effing way! I am
going out there tonight for a bit of my own fun. Yes, my own. No Harry.
No Ron! I don�t know why you�re both
being so snitty about it, anyway. You seemed to have built your post-Voldemort lives without me and I never complained. I think I�m entitled to have friends outside
the two of you without you biting my head off for it. If my getting a life bothers you, then you
can both sod off and� and� and screw
yourselves!�

And with that, she disapparated,
leaving Harry and Ron slack jawed by her parting shot. Not that they�ve never heard her swear;
they�d listened to her spew a profanity or two every once in a while, but at
them? This was almost tragic!

When Harry regained his senses, he threw down his
workbag. He didn�t even know he still
had it on. �Gods damn it, Ron! Why�d you
have to fucking go and bite her head off?�

�Well, don�t go blaming me for it!� cried Ron. �From what she said, it wasn�t just my fault!�

Harry sighed exasperatedly, throwing his hands
up. �You know Ron, you were here the
whole day. You could�ve offered to go
shopping with her, and maybe she wouldn�t have bought that stupidly sexy dress!�

�Since when has my opinion of her clothes
mattered to her? Merlin! If she ever listened to me, she wouldn�t be
buying those ridiculously expensive shoes!�

�Hex it! What
are we going to do now?�

Ron stared at him, almost shocked. �What do you mean, What are we going to do
now? We�re not going to do
anything! She�s right, Harry. You and I go out there and have fun while she
stays here and does whatever it is she does� we should go easy on her now that
she wants to go out on her own. She�s
perfectly capable of taking care of herself and making the right decisions, in
case you haven�t noticed. Hermione�s too
smart to let some git��

�Are you nutters,
Ron? Do you know how many crazy, randy,
disgusting blokes are out there just waiting for someone like Hermione to show
up beside them on some bar, or dance with them in some club? Hermione could be pretty damn well attractive
when she wants to be, you know!�

�I know that,� said Ron through grit
teeth. �But what are you going to do?
Lock her in her room and let her be alone the rest of her life? Come on, Harry. You know you don�t want that for her.�

He didn�t, and for once, Ron was right on so many
levels, but that dress!

�Maybe� maybe we should just make sure she gets
there alright. You know, just to be
sure��

�Harry, we don�t even know where she�s going.�

Harry paced.
Honestly, he wasn�t sure what he was so worried about, but something in
his instincts screamed for him to obsess, to be vigilant. Mad-eyed Moody would be proud. It whispered insistently enough when he was
in the Ministry, how he felt he should get home as quickly as he could, and now
this.

He couldn�t place it, but it was there.

His eyes fell on the small table in front of the
mirror. On it was her tube of lipstick and
the envelope. She had forgotten both
in her anger.

He hoped it was what he thought it was. He pulled out its contents.

It was the invitation. It contained a description of the event,
where it was going to be held and who was responsible for it.

Lysander Athanasius.

�That prat!� growled
Harry. He was just about to tuck the
invitation into his robe when he saw another important detail: The invitation
had been for three.

Whatever she wanted to do tonight, she had decided
she would go it alone. But he would have
to worry about that later. He knew where
she was going.

�I know where she is,� said Harry. �I�ll apparate us
together and we�ll��

�Um, Harry, see I have a date.�

Harry paused to give Ron a look. He was indeed dressed to go out with a
witch. Harry frowned. �Well, stand her up! This is more important.�

�More im�I�m not going to
give up my social life watching Hermione�s!
She�s having fun without us!
What the hell is the big deal?�

Big deal? thought
Harry, his temper rising. He strode over
to Ron, eyes alight with suppressed anger.
Ron may be several inches taller than him, but he was never afraid to
get in anyone�s face. He had done it
with Voldemort several times; he sure as hell can do
it with Ron. �The big deal, Ron,
is that she shouldn�t ever have to lie by omission to have fun without
us, but she did. If we didn�t
screw up so spectacularly by making her feel so neglected, she wouldn�t want to
get back at us by going out there by herself when she could�ve asked us to go with
her!� He shoved the invitation
against Ron�s chest. �I don�t know about
you, but I�m going there to watch over her.
I don�t care if she catches me and tells me she�ll never speak to me
again. She will, anyway. The both of us mean too much to her and I
want it to stay that way if I have to beat it down your throat.�

Harry picked his bag up from the floor. His
invisibility cloak was in it and he had a feeling it would be useful. �I�ll apparate
Northeast of Hyde Park, as close to the gallery as I can get without leaving
the park. I hope I see you there.�

Taking out his wand, he shot Ron one last glare
before he disapparated with a crack.

0000000000000000000000

Ron stared at nothing. He was alone in the house. The silence suddenly felt overbearing.

Crookshanks sauntered into
the reception hall, tail held high without paying the least attention to
anything around him. The cat-kneazle settled beneath the reception hall table, curling
up with his paws tucked into his chest without a care in the world.

�Bloody beast is mocking me,� Ron muttered.

On the floor were the contents of the envelope that
Harry had apparently found so distressing.
Reluctantly, Ron picked it up. It
was creased, having been crumpled in Harry�s hand, no doubt from anger, or
maybe frustration. It was hard to tell
with Harry sometimes.

Ron really didn�t want to follow Hermione; or at
least, that�s what he thought at first.
The girl wanted to go out for goodness sake, and she probably had a
date, too. While he wasn�t about to stand
by and let just any jerk take her from them, he wasn�t going to stop her from
trying to find someone who might make her happy, either. Frankly, he thought Harry was overreacting
just a tiny bit, but he was used to Harry being that way; so fiercely protective
about everyone, especially Hermione who had almost
died saving his life.

But Harry had said something about Hermione
lying. Worse, he had said something
about Hermione lying so they wouldn�t go with her. It almost sounded as if she had deliberately
left them behind, and that was�Ron admitted�somewhat disturbing.

Since when had Hermione stopped wanting to be with
them?

But unsettling as that was, it wasn�t the kind of
lie that would move Ron to run in circles while screaming. He felt more hurt than freaked out, so he
couldn�t exactly understand where Harry�s ravings were coming from.

Granted, Harry had a saving-people-thing that often
got him (and everyone he took with him) in serious trouble, and at the very
least, Harry had an uncanny ability to have near-psychic hunches, but the war
was over; the bad guy had been defeated; what was Harry so worried about?

Guy�s gone mental.

Ron frowned, wondering for the nth time whether Harry�s
concern for Hermione these days pushed the envelope of friendship a bit too
far. Ron didn�t want to seem daft, but
the three of them had been the best of friends for years, and it was just
difficult to see Harry going for Hermione in that way. Or was it? After all, Ron had, at some point, seen
Hermione as someone more than a friend, but considering the status of their
relationship now, he often found himself asking, �What was I thinking?�

Not that Hermione wasn�t �snoggable�. In the last two years, Hermione had grown
extremely snog-worthy, especially in those Wizard�s
Compendium photos, but he had transcended that physical attraction, upon
which he could say, with utmost sincerity that she looked good, but it didn�t
make him want to actually snog her.

Between him and Harry, Ron had always considered
himself more prone to trying for a relationship with Hermione, and since Ron
found himself getting past that, he was almost certain that issue in
their trio was done. It never occurred
to him Harry would be part of that issue.
Hermione was so not Harry�s type if Cho
and Ginny were any indication.

Cho and Ginny were so
athletic, heart-wrenchingly gorgeous and yes, they had luscious straight
hair. Hermione was bookish
(mind-numbingly intelligent), had bushy chestnut hair and while pretty enough
at first glance, wasn�t particularly a stand-out beauty. She only started to look really beautiful
when you began to learn how to appreciate the glow she emanated when she had
one of her many brilliant ideas. It wasn�t to say Harry didn�t like quirky,
intelligent women; he just seemed to like them show-stoppingly
out-going. Hermione had her really awesome moments, but
most times, she preferred the quiet of the library, she scorned parties and she
thought Quidditch ridiculous.

So exactly what did Harry see in Hermione?
Apparently not the usual draws. Hermione
had saved Harry�s life more times than Ron could count. She covered their arses
when it counted most and she broke rules with them, if only to keep them from
getting caught. She was braver than most
people Ron knew and she was one hell of a powerful witch. Terrifying, really, but Ron could understand
how Harry thought all of it positive.

And then there was that best friend thing� that thing
which Ron had been trying to figure out since fourth year.

Ron considered Harry to be his best mate, and it was
safe to assume Harry saw him in the same way.
They, like most blokes, had disagreements, shook hands on it or
exchanged fists on occasion, but they were best friends in the boys club. They understood matters as only boys could,
and they understood one another even more because they were best chums. So if one of them burped loudly, there was no
need to apologize, and if the Chudley Cannons lost,
they didn�t need to talk about it; a moment of silence would suffice, and Harry
knew it.

So, perhaps it was this boy-hood that had Ron
puzzling over how Harry and Hermione managed their best friend thing. Ron�s
bickering with Hermione defined their relationship; straight and simple. Harry and Hermione were more complicated than
that.

Hermione�s main flaw was her propensity to nag. She nagged them about anything that she
thought they tended to neglect. When
they were in school, she nagged them about doing their homework. When they were at war, she nagged them to
practice their spells and first-aid charms.
When they moved in together, she nagged them about putting down the
toilet seat in the common bathroom. She
was a nag, but to be fair, she nagged only when necessary. Ron hated it.
Harry didn�t mind, at least not as much as Ron. When Hermione got on their case for leaving
messes of chips and peanuts in the viewing room, Ron�s reaction was to keep
leaving messes. Harry never left a mess
again. So on nagging alone, Harry was strangely resilient.

Ultimately, Hermione�s nagging was her way of
showing how much she cared, but Ron noticed that he was less on the receiving
end of Hermione�s more gentle ministrations than Harry was. Harry always got gently offered potion for his hangovers; always got offered the
last bit of pumpkin pie; always asked about whether he had anything that needed
laundering since she was going to wash her own clothes anyway�

Laundry! In what world did BEST FRIENDS do that?
Honestly!

Harry received tender loving care when he was sick
as opposed to Ron who often got told to �Drink your potion and stop being a
baby! And get into your ice-bath before
I push you in myself!� Of course, this
was usually because Harry was a more compliant patient than Ron.

And then they had those friendly kisses and tender caresses; the unnecessary hugs they gave
one another; and the reading of each other�s minds with a single look. Harry and Hermione often said something along
the lines of: �You have that look on your face again!� as if they hadn�t said
that about each other in twenty different, completely unrelated instances. It was as if they had a �Look Language� and
they were the only two people who understood it.

Ron didn�t have any of that from Hermione. No kissing, no touching, no nothing. It wasn�t as if they repulsed each other; it
just wasn�t natural with them. They
could sit side by side on a table and the closest they�d come to touching was
when the fork clattered to the floor between them and they�d butt heads trying
to catch it.

So maybe now that Ron had thought more on it, it was
possible for Harry to have something for Hermione, and this was
Harry�s way of pursuing it.

Harry hadn�t shown interest at all before, so how
could he, now? Hermione hadn�t changed
so much to suddenly call the attention of Harry Bloody Potter. She was still Hermione, but� was Harry still
Harry?

Oh, Ron didn�t mean the question in the Barty Crouch-Mad Eyed Moody way. He simply meant to ask whether the last two
and a half years hadn�t significantly changed Harry�s perception of his ideal
woman. That was, after all, the only
thing that would make sense in the Harry and Hermione scheme of things.

Ron looked at the paper in his hand again. It looked like an invitation, the address
clearly written out at the bottom.

Harry thought he had reason to be worried. Harry believed there was something �not
right�. Ron had a distinct feeling he
was being drawn into another Aragog situation.

Bugger.
Why do I let Harry talk me into these things?

Ron raised his wand and apparated
himself to Paddington.
- 3
- 4
- 5
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

Hermione Full of Grace

Chapter Three � Rainbows in the Crystal