In Vino Veritas (In Wine, Truth)
by addisonJ
Disclaimer: JKRowling owns Harry Potter. I play in her world.
A/N: I needed to write some light fluff after the angst in my first HP fic. This is the plot bunny that showed up. Many thanks to Mac beta-ing.
(One-shot: Hermione Granger was about to get pissed.)
XXX
Harry Potter was looking forward to a quiet evening at home. He traveled quite a bit as an Auror and treasured the moments of peace and quiet in his London flat. He used to share the flat with his best friend, Ronald Weasley, but after Ron married the lovely Luna Lovegood, the newlyweds moved to a little cottage not far from the Burrow in Ottery St. Catchpole. His other best friend, Hermione Granger, had wanted to be close to the Muggle university where she was getting yet another degree (of course), so she chose her own flat but always visited when Harry was in town. Being wizards and witches, distance was not an issue with floo powder and apparition points so readily available.
Harry verified his wards were set up and settled down to a quiet meal alone. He owled his friends to let them know that he was in town, and they all agreed to meet at Seamus' pub the next evening. Tonight though, Harry would have some privacy and get some much-needed rest. His last assignment was more dangerous than expected. The Death Eater the Aurors had been following was a higher-level wizard than expected. His partner was injured - not seriously, thank the gods, and he had already been released from St. Mungo's -- but still….it was a reminder of how dangerous the work of an Auror really was.
Harry was just about to insert a forkful of Chinese takeaway into his mouth when it happened.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
Someone was knocking on his front door. That may be more common in the Muggle world, but Harry's friends tended to floo their intentions before arriving. He did have wards set up so only certain people could access (Aurors cannot to be too careful -- constant vigilance!) so he knew it would be a friend, not a foe.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
"Harry! I know you're in there!"
That sounded like Hermione Granger, which was surprising since Hermione had replied to Harry's owl saying she was out with her boyfriend tonight.
"Harry! I need you!"
Harry answered the door in seconds. If his best friend was in trouble, mountains would not keep him from her.
What greeted Harry when he opened his door was not a damsel in mortal danger but Hermione Granger with red-rimmed eyes, tear-stained cheeks, and a lumpy grocery bag. Without another word, she fell into his arms.
"Harry!" she cried, dampening his shirt.
Harry held onto her tighter, letting her feel the comfort of his embrace. He was used to Hermione's bone-crushing hugs. Usually they were to comfort him; he was glad to reverse the roles.
Once her cries had lessened, he rubbed circles on her back and cooed "there there" into her ear. That only seemed to worsen her distress. This time she not only cried, but Harry could hear the sniffles as well, although he did not mind that his shirt had turned into a huge handkerchief. This was his best friend, after all.
After several more minutes, Hermione seemed calmer, so they walked arm and arm to settle down on his sofa, Hermione wiping the tears from her eyes with her knuckles. Harry waited for Hermione to speak. He'd known her long enough to know not much prompting would be needed, and his dear friend would speak when she was ready.
They settled quite comfortably on the sofa, Hermione nestled into the crook of his shoulder, when she suddenly said, "Oh!", and jumped up, bringing the forgotten grocery bag from the entry way. Opening the bag, she handed Harry a six-pack of Fosters Ale, then brought out a second, which she placed on the coffee table.
"One for me, and one for you. We're going to get pissed! Adam left me."
Harry noticed that Hermione bought Australian lager. Australian, a reminder of her guilt for obliviating her parents and sending them to Australia to live as the Wilkins. This was going to be a long night.
***
7:08pm
"So he says to me, 'Hermione, this is not working out. I need to be first in your life, and you've got Harry and Ron and your work ahead of me. Crookshanks is ahead of me, and he's a cat. I need to be number one, and that just won't happen with you.'"
"And what did you say?"
Hermione snorted. "What do you think? 'Adam, stop being an ass! You knew who I was when we started dating. It hasn't bothered you for the past eight months -- why is it bothering you now?'"
"And he said?"
"So Adam says, 'Well, when we went to my cousin Lisette's wedding, you needed to leave early to prepare for that case. It was the first time you'd meet my entire family, and you leave early for work? That's unacceptable. You need to prioritize, and I don't mean work first.'"
"And you said?"
"This is how I am. My work is important to me. I'm on track to be the youngest lead prosecutor in Wizengamot, and if you really loved me, you'd understand and support me instead of undermining me in front of your family."
"You said that?!'
"Was that a bit harsh?"
"A bit."
"But it's true!"
"Okay, then what?"
"Well, he says 'Maybe this is a sign that we need time apart.' And I said, 'If time apart means you just want to end it, then let's just end it and not prolong this agony any longer.'"
"You said that?"
"Was that a bit too harsh as well?"
"A bit."
"Well, it's true!"
"Fair enough. And then?"
"Well, he did look quite sad then. Angry, but sad as well." Hermione's voice got quiet, and she cradled the lager can to her stomach, her eyes focusing on nothing at all. "Maybe he does care about me," she whispered. "He really does. I mean, he did. It's over now, isn't it? I pushed him away."
Anticipating another bout of tears, Harry pulled Hermione close to him and hugged her into his side. He had already resigned himself to the fact that his shirt was Hermione's handkerchief for the night. "Yes, he did, love. I think he did," Harry answered quietly.
Hermione's shoulders shook from fresh tears. "Why do I always push them away?"
***
8:31pm
"Now take Clark. He was all right with me working long hours. Why did we break up? It was his mother, wasn't it? Didn't care for my Muggle background."
"No, that was Patrick. I think for Clark it was your work hours."
"Oh gods! I've gotten them confused! How absolutely pathetic! I do remember the problem with Laurent. For him, it was the distance. He wouldn't move to London and leave Beauxbatons, and I wouldn't move to France. That one I do remember."
Harry smirked.
Hermione suddenly noticed the can of lager on her belly felt lighter than before. She picked it up, tipped it high to her lips, noticed the lack of liquid entering her mouth, set it down on her belly, and peered deep into its empty cavity with one eye. "Bloody hell, another dead soldier. Can you hand me another?"
Without words, Harry handed her a can from his own six-pack.
Hermione took note of the lack of recyclables near Harry. "Aren't you drinking, Harry?"
Harry held up the can in his hand. "Of course. I wouldn't have you drink alone. Tell me about Laurent."
Hermione snorted. "Merlin's beard! I honestly thought it would have lasted more than eight weeks! …"
***
10:07pm
Hermione was no longer sitting on the sofa but sprawled on the floor, her head against the sofa, and one hand waving about, clasping a can of lager. Harry was sitting next to her on the floor, sitting much more upright than she.
"What is it? What's wrong with me? I can get a boyfriend! No problem there, thank you very much, but I can't seem to keep them! It's either work or my cat or my ambitions or my Muggle background, or their feelings of inferiority, or you lot -" she cast a glance at Harry who merely stared right back over his glasses "-do you know how many blokes think they need to be jealous of us? Us! You and me! They need to grow their own balls and mind their own business! Don't they think men and women can be friends without shagging? What is this, 'When Harry Met Sally'? Why do men only think with their balls?"
Harry smiled.
11: 14pm:
"Why? Why? Ron has Luna, Ginny has Draco, Neville has Susan. Why can't I find love? You've got Pansy - how is Pansy? You haven't mentioned her lately."
"We - we kind of broke it off last week."
Hermione sat bolt upright, which made her head wince. But her best friend's happiness was of more concern than a splitting headache.
"What! When? What happened? Here I am whining about stupid boys, and you're going through a breakup yourself! What a terrible friend I am! Oh, Harry! I'm so sorry!" Hermione launched herself at her best friend, who accepted her embrace as he patted her back.
Hermione held onto Harry for a few moments, but then she abruptly leaned back and looked him in the eye. "You don't seem very upset about this," she observed in a moment of lucidity.
Harry smiled and patted her on the back. "No, I mean, yes, but no, I'm not terribly upset. I mean, Pansy and I have been together for years, so I do miss her, but it was kind of inevitable. We both realized it was time to go to the next level and neither one of us wanted a permament commitment with each other." Hermione started to make sympathetic noises, and Harry just smiled weakly and patted her arm. "No, really," he continued. "It's fine. We're fine. We're friends, and that's what matters. If we hadn't broken it off when we did, I don't think I could say we'd remain friends. We'd just be bitter about not being with the person who's right for us."
Hermione stared deeply into Harry's green eyes to verify the authenticity of his words. Harry's gaze matched her own; she felt satisfied that he was telling the truth, that he wasn't just trying to make her feel better. Hermione sighed and leaned into Harry's chest. "Oh, Harry," she breathed, "Why can't we find love? What's wrong with us?"
Harry stroked Hermione's bushy curls. "There's nothing wrong with us, love," he answered in a voice so low and quiet that even though Hermione was practically on top of him, she had to struggle to hear. Harry buried his nose in her curls. Even though there was a scent of lager about, Hermione smelled like cinnamon and pumpkin. Not a girly scent, but there was something feminine about it. He took a deep inhale and tightened his arms around her.
A soft, feminine voice came from beneath the curls. "Do you - do you want to talk about it, Harry? You know I'm always here for you. I'd hate to think you went through this and didn't feel you could confide in me."
Harry shook his head (even though he knew Hermione couldn't see him) and gave her another tight squeeze. "I always know I can rely on you, Hermione. You've saved me more times than I can count. You're my truest friend."
Hermione smiled to herself and patted Harry's forearm. She took another swig from her can, realizing it was empty, and grabbed another, noticing that Harry seemed to be nursing the same can for most of the night. Blinking, she ignored that information, opened the new can, and swallowed. "We need to find you a woman, Harry," she pronounced once she finished swallowing. "And not just any woman would do. You're too special. You deserve the best." She could not see the sad smile that glanced across his face. "Now, who do I know who would deserve you …"
"Don't set me up with Marge in your office, whatever you do."
"Oh gods, no! What a fangirl she is! She would sell out to the Daily Prophet in nanoseconds! You'd wake up the next day after the date, and she would have sold them an exclusive story." Hermione put her arm in front of her and pantomimed the headline, "'My Date with The-Chosen-One', subtitled 'Boxers, not Briefs.'"
The two friends collapsed on the floor laughing.
***
12:32 am
"Why? Why? You're - you're brilliant , Harry. You're smart and kind and loyal. Uh, and brave. And - and you're the best friend ever. Why, uh, why can't we find a girl for you? Not," Hermione's equilibrium was impaired, but she still turned sideways to face her still sober friend, "not some pissy fangirl. Not-" she waved a finger a bit too close to his nose to emphasize her point, "-not a fucking pureblood princess. No offense to Pansy-"
"None taken, I'm sure."
"Not a - a cougar," she spat out the Muggle term as Harry tried not to laugh, "But not a child, either. You need a woman. A woman who's sure of herself and knows herself and knows you, because - because you, Harry," Hermione's finger was getting close to Harry's left eye this time, and he tried not to be too obvious about dodging a possible scratched cornea, "--you are a man. You are a man among men. And not -" Hermione's finger ventured closer to his right eye this time, "--not because of all the fucking saving the wizarding world bullshit. No, cast that aside!" Hermione's hand dramatically swept across both their bodies and knocked over a few empty cans on the table. "That's not what matters now! What matters is you, Harry Potter! You as a person! You as a man!" Hermione jabbed at his torso now. "You as the most loyal, the most honest, the most brave-" Hermione saw Harry wince at that word and her brow furrowed as her finger once again waved in his face, "--no, we're forgetting the Voldemort bullshit! Even if you didn't save the world, you're brave, dammit! You have more courage in your fucking forefinger than most people-even most Gryffindors! And," Hermione's voice paused as she seemed deep in thought. Her eyes seemed to moisten, and Harry waited for the tears to flow. "You're the kindest, sweetest, most honest … truthful … integrity-ness? Integrital-ly? You have so much integrity. And strength. Inner strength. You," her finger stopped wagging, and she turned to look deep into Harry's eyes, "you are the most wonderful person I've ever met in my entire life. And I do truly love you so very, very much."
Harry's stomach flipped. That was unexpected. He looked deep into Hermione's suddenly sober brown eyes. As if someone blew the steam off a cup of tea, the clouds of inebriation cleared from Hermione's face, and she was suddenly the most sober she had been all night. "And I love you too, very, very much, Hermione Granger," Harry whispered.
Time froze. He stopped breathing. He had wanted to say that for years. He hadn't planned on telling her when she was drunk, but Gryffindors do not waste missed opportunities.
Hermione moved her hand to brush Harry's jaw line. She gave him a small smile, then leaned over and vomited on the floor beside him.
***
12:53am
After Harry applied a cleaning spell and Hermione apologized profusely, Harry insisted she switch from Fosters to water.
"You're sleeping in the guest room tonight, Hermione; I will not take no for an answer. I don't trust you flooing or disapparating in your current state."
"D'you think I'll get a DUI while disapparating?" Hermione swayed, body slowing as she tried to realign her body to obey her brain. Harry walked over and helped Hermione into a chair and handed her a glass of tap water.
"Drink this, and take this aspirin. I've got some hangover potion you can have in the morning. You'll feel better then."
"Better than being drunk? It helps to forget."
Harry stooped down and gave his best friend a gentle kiss on top of her curls. "There's nothing worth forgetting, dear."
***
Next day, 10:42 am
Hermione woke in Harry's guest room, her mouth fuzzy like cotton wool, her throat dry and head throbbing. She looked at the nightstand; grateful for the hangover potion her best friend had thoughtfully left for her. Harry's so considerate, Hermione thought, before her next thought of, What did I do or say last night?
In the kitchen, Harry heard the taps run in the bathroom and guessed Hermione was using the toothbrush she kept at his flat. He smiled, fixing coffee just the way she liked.
The coffee recipient stumbled into the kitchen and blindly grabbed the mug from his outstretched arm. "Bless you," she mumbled as she sat at the table, shielding her eyes from the sun streaming through the window.
"Want me to close the blinds?" Harry moved to the window before Hermione could even respond with a quick nod.
There was silence for a few moments as they sat side by side, Hermione nursing the coffee and Harry watching her warily.
"Did I embarrass myself too horribly last night?" Hermione asked, her eyes focused on her mug. Harry looked at her quizzically.
"How much do you remember?" he asked warily.
Hermione's eyes finally left the mug and found Harry's face. "Oh dear. Was it that bad?"
"Do you remember me having to do a cleaning spell?"
Hermione covered her eyes in shame. "Oh gods, I am so sorry about that."
"Do you remember why you came over last night?"
Hermione was about to remove her hand from covering her eyes, but she quickly moved it back into position across her brow. "Adam. Fuck. There goes my 'plus one' to those damned Ministry-sponsored events."
"Do you remember anything else?" Harry's voice was a bit more strained this time. Hermione noticed and a memory sprang into her mind.
"I told you I loved you." Hermione's voice was quiet, tentative, her eyes searching Harry's to see if there were any answers in his green ones.
"And?" Harry's tone was purposely even, although his gaze matched hers in intensity.
Hermione's voice answered just above a whisper, "You love me too." She searched his eyes for confirmation. Was it just a dream in her drunken stupor? A slow, crooked smile started across his face. Hermione answered with a smile of her own. "You love me?" she asked with a slight flirtatious smirk. "You really love me? As in 'in love'? Or the way you love Quidditch or treacle?" Hermione was quite proud of herself for managing to sound flirty even though her stomach was in knots and the hangover potion wasn't acting nearly fast enough. Damn that Fosters!
Harry's response was to slowly move his hand across the tabletop to meet hers on the mug and gently caress hers with his thumb, all the while staring intensely at her with a tense yet flirty smile.
"The first one," he responded, his voice deepening, turning husky. Is this really happening? Is this finally happening? Hermione's answering grin encouraged Harry to deepen their physical closeness and actually clasp her hand, raise it to his lips, and kiss it soundly.
Hermione blinked.
Harry looked at Hermione's reaction, smirked, and kissed her hand again.
Hermione exhaled.
"Since when?"
"Hmm?"
"How long have you felt this way?"
Harry looked up from the kisses he was planting on her hand to respond. "I think it's always been there. It just took me a while to realize it."
Hermione's ran her other hand along Harry's jaw line. "Really?" she murmured, holding back, wanting her lips to follow the path of her hand and truly feel the faint stubble on his chin.
"And you?" Harry's voice was husky.
"Always. I decided long ago you'd never see me that way, so I tried to push it aside and just focus on keeping you alive. Then focus on keeping you happy. I think that's why I've had so many boyfriends - serial monogamy. Like Goldilocks and the Three Bears, one was too hot, one too cold. None of them were you, Harry. Oh!" Hermione gasped as Harry's lips began to suck her fingers one by one. Hermione withdrew her fingers from his mouth, sucked them herself (Harry gasped), and then leaned forward. Harry leaned forward as well, his eyes focused on her lips.
"My 'Mione," he breathed just before their lips met and silenced him.
The kiss was soft, tentative. A brushing against each other, before deepening, mouths opening.
"Yes," she said.
"Yes," he answered before capturing her mouth in his again.
Hermione was glad she had brushed her teeth.
The End.
A/N: Please read and review! This is only my 2nd HP fic and I'd love some feedback.
Thanks to the Harry Potter Lexicon for being my reference.
BTW, I'm starting to write a longer fic, sort of Pride & Prejudice meets Harry Potter. It will be about 20 chapters and I'm only on chapter 3 so far. If you're interested in beta-ing, please PM me and let me know; (huge thanks to Mac for beta'ing this one; she doesn't even read HP fanfics but she did it as a favor to me - hugs to her!).