Love, Hermione

Part 5

Hermione was sat in her living room couch eating mint chocolate chip ice cream straight from the tub and watching a terrible romantic movie from her telly. After she had gotten home from the Ministry, Hermione tried to come up with the different scenarios that could unfold when Harry returned from his trip the following week.

She reasoned with herself that if, God forbid, Harry did receive those letters, she could pretend that she was under the influence when they were written. She knew this would be a tough sell since Hermione, at most, had only gotten tipsy while drinking and she had never done drugs before. But maybe she could say that she was under the influence of potions? Surely there was a potion out there whose side effect was making its drinker loopy and writing love letters to their friends, right? She made a note to research this.

Maybe she could Obliviate him? No, that wouldn't work either. He was the Auror and he would be far to fast for her to do a full Obliviate on him. Besides, she could accidentally wipe more than just the letters from his memory.

If denial wouldn't work and he truly believed that she was in love with him (which she was), then Hermione was ready to accept his rejection and beg that his newfound knowledge wouldn't affect their friendship. She would convince Harry that she would keep her feelings in check (which she had done over the years) and that nothing needed to be different. If he was okay with it, they could just go on with their lives as if those letters didn't exist.

But if Harry felt too awkward around her and didn't want to be her friend anymore... no, Hermione refused to go down that path. She squashed the thought and tried not to think about that particular scenario. That was how she found herself eating ice cream and watching a mind-numbing movie. Her concern now was how Marisa's and Chris' story would end.

Just as she was about to put another spoonful of ice cream into her mouth, her doorbell rang. It was probably the Chinese food she ordered for supper (since she really was in no mood to cook following her disastrous morning), so Hermione set the tub down and paused the movie. She grabbed her wallet from the centre table and padded towards the front door. She didn't bother looking at the peephole (and she would chastise herself about this later) before she yanked the door open ready to pay the delivery man for her food.

But instead of finding the delivery man, she found her best friend behind the door with her Chinese takeout bag in his hand. And no, not the redheaded one, but the other best friend who was supposed to be in Russia.

Harry Potter stood outside Hermione's home with a smirk on his face. He was dressed in all black with his long wool coat open to allow a glimpse of his attire underneath. Hermione swallowed at how sexy he looked. He had black slim fit trousers tucked underneath calf-high black boots. A black dress shirt was tucked underneath as well and molded over his very sculpted upper body. A slim black tie was tied at a knot around his neck and Hermione longed to drag him towards her with it. Black framed glasses were perched upon his nose and through the darkness Hermione could see his green eyes shining. His black hair was its usual mess and fell over his forehead slightly covering his lightning bolt scar and Hermione wanted so badly to run her hand through it and make it even more messy.

"Harry," she squeaked in greeting. "What... what are you doing here? Shouldn't you still be in Russia?" 

Instead of answering her question, Harry stepped towards the door causing Hermione to step back further inside her home with a little eep. "Hermione," he said, his voice low and his eyes never leaving her face. "Shouldn't you be letting me in? I've got your dinner after all."

"Oh... oh right! Of course. Come in, Harry," Hermione said, and quickly scurried to the side so Harry could get inside. Harry stepped in and closed the door with his foot. There was silence. Hermione was biting her lip ferociously not knowing what to say until Harry handed her the takeout bag to which she squeaked a thank you.

As if there wasn't any tension in the air, Harry took his leisurely time getting settled in. He removed his coat and hung it on the coat rack behind where Hermione was standing, making him reach around her and Hermione scurrying away to the other side. Next he removed his cufflinks (Hermione noticed it was the one she gifted him a couple birthdays ago) and rolled the sleeves of his dress shirt to his elbows. Hermione gulped and stared intently at the flex of his biceps. A strong hand came to the knot at his neck and Harry loosened his tie and undid the top-most button. Lastly, Harry bent down and removed his boots since Hermione hated having dirt tracked inside her home. He stepped towards her again and Hermione backed away, but Harry only grabbed the bag from her hands and walked towards her dining room table. He set the bag down on the tabletop and walked to her kitchen to grab some plates and cutlery from her cupboards. He set the table and prepped the food while Hermione stood gaping at him by the front door.

"Hermione, aren't you going to eat? Your food is going to get cold," Harry said and gestured at the spread he had prepared.

Hermione slowly walked towards the dining room table but she stopped halfway through. No, she thought. This was weird. Why would he suddenly turn up here all of a sudden when he still had a week left to go in Russia? Unless... did this mean that he received her letters? And was this his way of rejecting her?

"Harry," she said firmly. "I will not eat until you tell me why you're here!" Hermione had to resist stomping her foot on the floor.

With two long strides Harry was stood in front of Hermione and with both arms around her waist. He gently pulled her body close and Hermione stiffly allowed herself to be hugged. Her breath caught in her throat at the feel of his fingers tracing patterns on her back. She could feel her body melting in his touch.

"H-Harry... what are you doing?" She whimpered.

Harry tsked and gave a small laugh. From her place on his chest, Hermione could hear his laughter echo and it filled her with warmth. "For the 'Brightest Witch of the century' you sure do ask a lot of unnecessary questions. I'm hugging you, Hermione. And before you ask why, it's because I missed you."