Summary: Hermione has a date for Mr. Weasley’s retirement party, which has put Harry into a permanent funk for the evening. With a little assistance, however, the night may not be an entire disaster.
Categories: Harry/Hermione Characters: None
Warnings: None
Challenges: Series: None
Chapters: 1
Completed: Yes
Word count: 2210
Read: 2471
Published: 05/29/06
Updated: 06/04/06
1. Mother Mastermind by Raven_Stag
Mother Mastermind by Raven_Stag
Author's Notes:
Hermione has a date for Mr. Weasley’s retirement party, which has put Harry into a permanent funk for the evening. With a little assistance, however, the night may not be an entire disaster. Warning: Mild to strong lauguage.
“Doesn’t Hermione look lovely tonight, Harry dear? Seems like only yesterday she was arriving for summer vacation at the Burrow, with that big bushy head of hair, and that shy, demure smile.” Mrs. Weasley chuckled a little, “Now look at her, the veritable belle of the ball. Who’s that she’s chatting with, dear?”
Harry Potter did not answer; he was too busy starring across the dance floor at the woman in question, for woman she had become. Mrs. Weasley had been correct, Hermione Granger was beautiful tonight. She wore a mint green frock, with flowing skirt that came halfway down her calf where it swirled slightly around her legs and a modest halter top, ‘if’, Harry thought, ‘that was not a contradiction of terms.’ She was laughing now, at something her partner had said, and Harry rather thought the expression suited her. His gaze drifted to the man at her side, and felt his pleasure at the sight of her laughter ebb.
Simon Darenbe was, Harry searched for an antiquate word, he was…a politician. He was a man’s man, a lady’s man, a man about town, but he wasn’t, Harry thought again, an intelligent man. This was all fine, in fact some of Harry’s close friends were politicians, and some of them he wouldn’t have classified as particularly intelligent either, though extremely pleasant and generally decent human beings. However, he could not help but think that Hermione deserved an intelligent man, she was, after all, the head of their class at Hogwarts, and since had stunned her trainers at St. Mugo’s with her capabilities and aptitude for learning. Some people learn until the day they die, others stop at the age of twelve; Hermione fell into the first category, but Simon…Simon hadn’t learned anything since puberty when he’d discovered girls were nice legs and breasts.
“Some are born to be pricks, some acquire prick-ness, and some have it thrust upon them,” muttered Harry under his breath.
Mrs. Weasley, who had been attempting to gain Harry’s attention for a full five minutes, look temporarily shocked at his language, but upon following his stare to the man who was now holding Hermione’s arm in one hand and his highball in the other, she mumbled an “Oh, I see,” in a tone that suggested an allowance could be made.
“What?” asked Harry, tearing his gaze from the couple.
Mrs. Weasley coughed politely, “I was just wondering, dear, who Hermione’s young man is.”
Harry turned back as if he hadn’t seen him yet, “Ummm, Darenbe, Simon Darenbe.”
Mrs. Weasley coughed again, and seeing Harry slipping once again into unconscious ogling said quickly, “And do you know him well dear?”
“Well enough.”
Mrs. Weasley wondered silently just what Harry knew him well enough for, but decided to refrain. “I’m afraid I have to mingle, dear, I just send Ron along to you, yes?”
Harry shrugged noncommittally, and Mrs. Weasley bustled away, half amused and half worried.
“Some party, eh?” said Bill Weasley, coming up behind Harry as his mother left, “Can’t believe Dad’s retiring.”
Harry started from his self induced comma and looked at Bill, “Yeah, I’ll bet he’ll be barmy in a week.”
“Oh certainly,” said Bill with a chuckle, “But then he doesn’t have far to go does he? I mean he’s already one battery short of a watt, isn’t he? Still, makes for a great party.”
“Yeah,” said Harry, and turned back to see Hermione leading Simon out onto the dance floor. His fists clenched, and Bill gave him a concerned glance.
“Look here, you alright mate?”
“Yeah, dandy.”
Bill looked out and saw the basis of the problem. “Yeah,” he said, “aren’t we all.”
He left, only to be replaced by another member of the red-headed clan. Ron did not speak at first, for which Harry was grateful because he was sick of holding half conversations which he truly had no interest in. He was interested in only one thing tonight, the one person who was not interested in him.
Finally, Ron sighed, “You can’t always get what you want.”
“Thank you Mick Jagger,” snapped Harry with frustration that was not actually aimed at Ron. It was just then that the song changed, and the all too familiar sound of the Rolling Stones floated across the yard.
“I saw her today at a reception
A glass of wine in her hand
I knew she would meet her connection
At her feet was her footloose man…”
Harry swiveled his stony gaze to his other best friend, “Did you plan that?”
Ron smirked a little, “Let’s just say I know the DJs.” Harry turned to look, and where once a very smart looking man had stood in his white tuxedo coat, the Weasley twins Fred and George now sat with their drinks in hand and their feet up on the table. They saw Harry looking their way and each gave a little finger wave. Harry acknowledged this with a well executed two-finger salute.
“Now, now,” admonished Ron with the hint of a smile, “Was that necessary?”
“No, but it made me feel better.” Harry took a sip of his soda, only to find that all the ice had melted. While contemplating the contents of his glass, he said, “Why couldn’t you have done us all a favor and remained absolutely, sodding, ignorant of the muggle world.”
“I had to go and fall head over heels in love with a muggle bird, didn’t I? Here, look, don’t mind the ice, this situation calls for something stronger anyway. Come on.” He led the way over to the bar, dumping Harry’s drink on the way.
“I don’t drink the hard stuff Ron.”
“Tonight you do. Tonight you’ll need it.”
“I’ll be fine.” But Ron was ignoring him, so Harry changed the subject, “How is the lovely Stacy?”
“Lovely. Sweet, intelligent without being damn well annoying, funny, good shag””
“Too much Ron, far too much,” said Harry, raising his hand in protest. “Where is she tonight?”
“Sorry. Uh, she's teaching a yoga class, actually. Anyway, the upshot of it is I think this is the one I’m going to marry.”
“Wow, you, matrimony; is that an oxymoron?”
“Yeah, you can keep talking Mr. I haven’t had a serious relationship since sixth year; and that was my sister.”
“Yeah, well, she’s a hard act to follow.”
“Bullocks.”
“I just haven’t found a good reason for a serious relationship.”
“You have an excellent reason; you just refuse to act on it.” He handed Harry a small glass of golden brown liquid, which Harry securitized carefully. It was his experience that when alcoholic beverages came in small glasses, this was usually because too much concentrated in one area was extremely volatile. “Well go on,” prompted Ron, and Harry shrugged and downed the mystery liquid.
It went down like fire, and felt like a ton of bricks had hit him on the back of the head. “Holy””
“Another one I think,” said Ron to the bartender.
“Hell no,” breathed Harry with a strained voice, “I think I’ll just have a coke.”
Ron looked at him for a moment and then said hesitantly, “That may not be the best of ideas. The sugar, you see, might ignite. I think he’ll have a water then,” Ron said, turning to the bartender.
Harry moved off to sit in grass of the Weasley’ back yard which had been expanded for the night’s festivities. He put his head between his legs and wondered vaguely what the hell Ron had given him to drink.
“Harry?” said a very familiar voice, “Everything alright?”
Harry raised his head to find Hermione grazing at him with concern, “Uh, yes, fine. You?”
“Fine. I haven’t seen you all night. You’re not avoiding me, are you?”
“No, Hermione, I couldn’t avoid you, not even if I wanted to.”
She smiled, and Harry wished he could have permission to make her smile for the rest of his life, “Good, so long as you’re aware of that. Would you like to dance? They’ve been turning out some decent muggle stuff all night.”
“No, I wouldn’t like to disturb your date; it seems to be going so nicely.”
“My d”oh, yes, I see what you mean,” she muttered following his gaze to where Simon was making ‘discreet’ motions with his head, flailing about in an attempt to beckon her towards him. “I hope that arsehole gets a crick in his damn neck,” muttered Hermione under her breath. For her part, she couldn’t see what had induced all her male friends to abandon her tonight to the mercy of Simon Darenbe.
“What?” asked Harry, rays of hope casting themselves through his darker thoughts about the man in question.
“Oh, nothing,” said Hermione, avoiding Harry’s eyes, “Well, I suppose I’d better go before some one twitches himself to death. See you soon, Harry.”
“Yeah,” said Harry, watching morosely as she walked away from him.
“Well,” said Ron, handing him a glass of water, “How’d that go?”
Harry drank the entire glass in one go and spluttered, “Damn awkward.”
“Oh good,” said Ron cheerfully, “Would hate for your love life to go too easily.”
“What love life?”
“Yeah,” snickered Ron, “Good point."
“Thanks, you’re a real friend, you know that?”
“Of course, why else would I be here with you instead of at home with my yoga instructor girlfriend?”
They were both silent for a long time after that, until Ron finally said, “So, what are you thinking?”
“I’m thinking you’re right,” said Harry, watching Hermione appear to get into an argument with Simon, “You can’t always get what you want.” Hermione turned on her heel and stalked off toward the house. Harry jumped to his feet, and looked down at Ron, “But if you try sometimes, you just might find, you get what you need.” He took long strides across the grass, and the floor, and the grass again, moving fast to catch up with Hermione.
Ron jumped up too, made a hasty signal to the twins and moved quickly to intercept Simon. The twins got the message and began to shuffle urgently through the CDs spread before them. Fred said something flippant, and George smacked him over the head, but eventually they discovered the one they had been searching for and sat back to wait for the opportune moment.
Harry caught Hermione’s arm from behind, “Herm””
“Simon leave me”” she turned and belted him across the face, then let out a wail as she realized who it was. “Oh my God, Harry! Did I hurt you? Are you alright?”
“At least I know you can defend yourself,’ said Harry soothingly, holding the side of his face she had hit squarely.
Hermione smiled nervously, “I’m sorry, Harry, I thought””
“I know what you thought. Must have been one hell of a date.”
“It wasn’t a”” but she saw him smiling a little and grinned, “Yeah, hellish date.”
“Would you care to dance?”
“It’s about bloody time!” muttered Hermione, forgetting herself, “What? oh yes, love to.”
As he led her to the dance floor, there was once again a flurry of activity at the DJ table. Halfway through “Lady Marmalade,” the song was interrupted by Louis Armstrong’s “What a Wonderful World,” which was the cause of mass confusion in the entire assembly, until they realized who, precisely, was running the DJ’s table.
They reached the dance floor and Harry pulled her close to him, holding her hand close to his chest. Her eyes met his, and he stopped breathing. In his head he could hear a few lines ahead in the song, and so whispered, “Hermione?”
“Hmmm?”
Harry stepped back from her and held out his hand. She look at him perplexed and then heard what he’d known to be coming:
“I see friends shaking hands.....saying.. how do you do
They’re really saying... I ....love....you.”
She smiled and shook his hand, “How do you do, Harry.”
Harry pulled her in to hold her close again, “I love you Hermione, and I want to tell you that every day for the rest of my life.” He felt her tears soaking through his shirt, and held her closer.
“I love you too, Harry.” She looked up again, and this time their lips met in a soft promise of the future.
At the DJ table, the twins were trading congratulations and high fives. From where he stood, distracting Simon, Ron grinned at the knowledge that with his work finished he could now go home to his girlfriend in peace. Dancing next to the new couple with Fleur, his wife of five years, Bill whispered in her ear something very foolish about young love, as though he were a very old, wise man. Ensconced in a lawn chair, with her eyes half closed, Mrs. Weasley smiled with a sense of accomplishment, really, what are sons for?
Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters and settings are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. No money is being made from this work. No copyright infringement is intended.