Disclaimer: I, by no means, claim to own anything remotely related to the Harry Potter Universe. No copyright infringement intended.

AN: This is a different type of story than I usually write and I wasn't sure if I wanted to publish it. The characters, I think, are quite OOC, so I don't know how it's all going to turn out.

Chapter One

"Harry Potter! You get out here right now!"

The wizard in question waited a beat before he stood up from his desk and left his bedroom to find Hermione Granger glaring at him, a severely unimpressed look taking hostage of her otherwise perfect face. She was dressed smartly, in a navy blue knee-length dress, and Harry had to admit that she looked rather pretty.

Even through her obvious anger.

"Hi," he said, grinning at her.

"Don't 'hi' me," she snapped. "What on earth are you doing?"

He faked innocence. "What do you mean what am I doing?"

She absently placed her hands on her hips, preparing to scold him like the little boy that she decided he was in this moment. "Aren't you supposed to be somewhere right now?"

Harry looked nonplussed as he shook his head. "Hermione, I don't know what you're talking about."

Hermione forced herself to take a deep, calming breath. She could tell he knew exactly why she was here and she had to fight her growl of frustration. "Get dressed," she said through gritted teeth. "We're going right now!"

Harry folded his arms across his chest. "I'm not going anywhere," he said simply.

"What?"

"I'm not going anywhere," he repeated. "I'm not going."

"What do you mean you're not going?"

Harry narrowed his eyes. "I mean what I mean," he said dryly. "I don't even know why you're here. I already told Kingsley that I wasn't attending."

Hermione paused at that. "You did what?"

"Oh, sure, now it's your turn to pretend you don't know what we're talking about," he muttered, absently leaning against his door frame.

"Don't get smart with me, Potter!" she hissed, clearly not in the mood for his antics. "When did you tell Kingsley you weren't attending?"

"When he personally delivered my invitation," he explained. "Didn't he tell you?"

"No, he didn't tell me," she muttered. "Why didn't you?"

"Why didn't I what?"

"Why didn't you tell me you weren't going to attend?" she asked, her eyes narrowing. "I've spent the last hour assuring people that Harry Potter was on his way!"

Harry was unable to stop his smile. "You did what?"

"Don't you look at me like that," she said, folding her own arms. "Get dressed. We're going. Your name is on the list. You're supposed to be giving a speech in twenty minutes."

"I'm what?" he asked, his eyes wide. "Since when? No ways!"

Hermione shook her head, letting out a long sigh. "Kingsley knew that I would come and get you," she said, sounding defeated. "He knew I'd be the only one who could convince you to come."

Harry swallowed. "But I already told him I wasn't going."

"And he didn't listen."

Harry turned his piercing green eyes on her, something changing in his expression as much as his tone. "Please don't make me go, Hermione. I don't want to be back there."

That did it.

Hermione moved towards him and wrapped him up in her arms, her anger from earlier dissipating quite suddenly. She held him for quite some time before she pulled back. "Okay, but I'd appreciate being told next time," she said, fully releasing him. "And, does this really mean that you're never going to go back?"

Harry read her facial expression for what it was, seeing the moment of vulnerability cross her pretty features. He gently took hold of her wrist and pulled her close enough so she could feel the intensity of his gaze. "I promise, Hermione Granger, that I will be at your Hogwarts' graduation. I'll be right in front, clapping the loudest, for the smartest witch of our generation. You can always count on me."

Hermione could do nothing more but believe him when he did things like this, making such intense vows of seemingly normal things. It was just something in his eyes that made every promise he made sound so severe; sound as if it were a matter of life and death to him.

Hermione swallowed. "I should probably get back," she said, stepping back from him, needing to breathe air that wasn't so intoxicating. "I suppose that I've now got to give the speech you were supposed to be giving."

"You'll do it so much better than I ever could," he told her seriously. "Our Victory over Voldemort is more yours than it would ever be mine."

Hermione had to hug him again, using his reassuring presence to keep herself calm but she still felt particularly emotional when she released him. "Okay, I should go," she said, stepping back again. "I'll see you on Friday night maybe. Unless you've got plans with Rose?"

Harry gave her a sideways look, even snorting for good measure.

"Oh right, how could I forget?" she said, rolling her eyes. "Harry Potter never dates a girl twice."

Harry said nothing.

Hermione sighed. "One of these days you're going to find a girl who's going to steal your heart, Harry Potter."

"Not if I have anything to do with it," he said cheekily, throwing her a whimsical look that he knew she loved.

She just shook her head. "I should go, but I really don't want to," she said sadly. "Tell me to go."

Harry stepped towards her and placed his hands on each of her shoulders, making her shudder. "Hermione, as Head Girl of Hogwarts, you are expected back at the Great Hall, in order to deliver the speech about the one year anniversary of Voldemort's defeat because your awful best friend decided that he couldn't handle it." He took a breath. "Now go. Your adoring public awaits your arrival. I will see you on Friday."

She smiled at him. "Thank you, Harry."

"Anytime, Hermione."

With that, Hermione stepped away from him, turned and walked into the living room. She gave him one last wave before she Disapparated out of the apartment, leaving Harry alone for what felt like the thousandth time since they'd moved in. He stared at the spot she'd just vacated for a long moment, wondering idly what he had to do to get her to stay. For good.

Harry returned to his bedroom eventually, sitting back down at his desk, and resuming his excessive planning. He hadn't spoken to anyone about this particular project and he didn't intend to do that until all his plans were finalised and set into motion. For once, he was being tight-lipped about something, even when it concerned his best friends.

When he'd decided not to attend the Victory Day celebrations, Harry had been resolute. He wanted nothing to do with turning the day that they lost so many into a national holiday. Of course, he could see the merit in giving the Wizarding World belief that the worst was finally behind them, but Harry just couldn't do it. He didn't want to have to, and he appreciated the fact that Ron and Hermione understood that.

Seeing Hermione on this day had just been a bonus, really. He missed her when she was at school. He also missed Ron, more than he would ever admit to the redhead. They were both just so busy with their own lives, and Harry felt like he was stuck.

With nothing really to do, during his self-professed year of sabbatical, Harry did find himself getting lonely from time to time.

Like right now.

Harry stood up quite abruptly. He had to find something to do. Or just someone to do. He even laughed at that, as he walked around the apartment, searching for something to occupy his mind. He'd had almost a full year of being on holiday and he was itching to do something, anything.

Making a decision, Harry gathered his pages from his desk and left the apartment, intent on working to further his plans.

Sometimes he just hated the silence.

Harry didn't return until much later, feeling rather satisfied with the day's work. He expected to find it empty but he was pleasantly surprised to find Ron in the living room, watching television like he sometimes did when he was feeling especially adventurous. The volume was much higher than necessary but Harry wouldn't comment. Harry couldn't bring himself to stomp on Ron's seemingly endless fascination.

Ron was boisterous with his laughter right until the moment that he spotted Harry. He immediately lifted the remote and turned off the television.

"There you are," Ron said, giving his friend a curious look. "We missed you today."

Harry said nothing as he flopped down onto the couch. "Has it really been going on all day?"

Ron nodded. "Pretty much. Got home about a half hour ago."

"How was Hermione's speech?" he felt he had to ask.

"Great," he said. "I don't think there was a dry eye in the Great Hall."

"Including you?"

Ron scoffed at that. "I'm a man."

Harry just laughed. "I didn't think you'd be home," he admitted thoughtfully.

"I needed to talk to you about something," he said, sounding particularly grave for Ronald Weasley. "It's about Hermione."

That definitely got Harry's attention and he sat up straight. "What about Hermione?"

"There was something weird going on when I was there," he said. "Between her and Michael Corner, the Head Boy. I asked her about it but she wouldn't tell me anything."

Harry was frowning. "Do you think that they're involved?"

"If they are, they're incredibly hostile towards each other," Ron said. "Should we be worried? I mean, I know she can take care of herself, but I've never liked that Michael Corner so I might be biased."

Harry wasn't sure how he felt about talking to Ron about Hermione's potential dating life. It just felt like bad form as her best friends but even he had to admit that, if they weren't the ones to look out for her, who else would?

"I think you should talk to her," Ron said to Harry.

His eyes widened. "Me?"

Ron nodded. "She won't hex you if you're the one to bring it up, but she would straight up murder me if I even so much as opened my mouth about it."

Harry had to agree with that. "She said she's coming home on Friday. I'll talk to her then."

"Great," he exclaimed, clapping his hands together. "Can we have dinner now? I'm starving."

Harry laughed. "Didn't they feed you?"

Ron just stared at him. "I don't see what your point is."

Harry enjoyed this. Spending time with his friends, occupying his mind, stopping his thoughts from running amok. It was hard to believe that it had already been an entire year since the end of the War. For Harry, it felt like everything and nothing had happened in that time.

His decision not to join the Auror Academy hadn't gone down well with those at the Ministry, and his decision not to go back to Hogwarts made Hermione not talk to him for a couple of days.

Harry rather made the decision to do nothing for a while, and he didn't think that anyone could begrudge him that. He had things to figure out, things to experience and he was going to start living by his own rules for the first time in his life.

Hermione eventually came around and Kingsley, well, he was still trying to rope Harry in to all sorts of Ministry events. As yet, Harry managed to avoid them all. He knew, at some point, he would have to make an appearance somewhere.

He was sure that the newspapers would be rife with all sorts of theories about why Harry didn't attend the Victory Day celebrations in the morning, and he wasn't wrong.

"It's laughable," Ron finally concluded, setting the Daily Prophet down on the kitchen table. "We just celebrated an entire year without Voldemort and all these bloody people care about is where the Vanquisher of the Dark Lord was. I don't know how you stand this, Harry."

Harry just shrugged. "Kingsley must be fuming."

"You reckon this is why he wanted you there, mate? To stop all the sensationalism about your absence?"

Harry just shrugged again. "There are more important things to be worrying about," Harry finally concluded. "It's not my fault that newspapers these days have turned into tabloids."

Ron had to agree. "They even ran a story on me and Luna the other day," he said. "I wish they could just leave us alone, you know?"

Harry did know. He'd spent years trying to explain it all to Ron.

Harry's life was much publicised. Most of everything that he did was written about, but he was quite proud of the fact that he was able to keep his project a secret for so long. Not even Hermione knew about it, and the two of them didn't have many secrets, if any at all.

Which was really why, when Harry went to bed that night, he was feeling apprehensive. He didn't want to have that conversation with Hermione but he had to accept that it might be necessary. He just wasn't sure that he wanted to know what his best friend got up to; the same way he wouldn't want her to know about his various exploits with the opposite sex.

Even though, he was sometimes ashamed to say, his various activities of the night did make it into the back pages of some newspapers. His high profile had him linked with every witch who was anybody from London to the Isle of Man.

Harry supposed that he and Hermione really were those sorts of friends, but there had to be a line, didn't they? They'd always been able to talk to each other about anything and everything, but surely this conversation would be deemed... inappropriate?

All too soon, Friday was upon them and Hermione was home for the weekend, bringing along her books as was the usual. She normally retreated into her own bedroom for the night after having dinner with her boys, and spent the evening working, which was what she did this particular night as well.

Really, Harry was surprised that she didn't notice that something was up with him. Maybe it was the way he'd so eagerly asked about her speech, and the way he'd listened attentively. He tended to do that. He missed her so much during the week that he practically hung onto every word she said, whenever she was talking about the life she lived without him.

In the end, Ron practically had to shove Harry towards her closed bedroom door. The raven-haired wizard glared at his friend for a good minute before he conceded and went to knock on Hermione's door. He waited for the first sound of her voice before he turned the handle and entered.

Hermione was sitting at her desk, her sleeves rolled up, her hair tied up in a messy bun and a quill balanced behind her ear. She looked at him expectantly as he made his way over to her bed and sat down far enough on its edge to allow his feet to dangle.

"Harry?" she prompted, eyeing him curiously.

He managed a smile. "You know, you look so pretty with your untied," he found himself saying and then wondered why he'd said such a thing.

Hermione shifted so she could face him properly, her cheeks tinging pink at his unexpected compliment. "Umm, Harry?"

He also blushed. "Sorry, that came out of nowhere. Umm, I, we, well..." he paused to take a breath. "I just wanted to know if everything was okay."

Hermione eyed him carefully. "With regards to?"

He swallowed. "Umm, everything," he offered. "School, life in general, your parents, boys."

She sighed. "Ron asked you to do this, didn't he?"

Harry felt stuck between a rock and a hard place. "What?"

"You want to know about Michael?"

No! "I just want to know that you're okay," he said, trying to save himself from the narrowing of her eyes. She could get very scary when she was mad.

Hermione sighed. "I suppose it would do me some good to talk about it."

Harry did his best not to react. He was caught between relief that she was going to talk to him and the sudden urge to flee. He still wasn't sure he really wanted to know whatever had happened.

"We started to date just after Christmas," she admitted.

"Why didn't you tell us?" It wasn't asked as an accusation but it just sort of flew out of his mouth before he could stop it. They weren't supposed to keep secrets from each other.

She seemed to think about that for a moment. "I don't know, but it probably had something to do with the way you both act when there are other boys in my life."

"That's because we'll always be the most important, right?" he asked, forcing himself to smile at her.

She smiled slightly. "Of course, Harry."

"So then what happened?"

She cleared her throat. "We spent a lot of time together, you know, and our relationship progressed quite far quite quickly, I sometimes think."

Harry went pale, his eyes widening as he understood her meaning. "You and Corner...?" he asked skeptically.

Hermione couldn't look him in the eye, feeling embarrassed for the first time. Why was she even telling him any of this? "Look, it was just what felt right at the time," she said, feeling like she had to defend herself. "I think that if I could think of it as just sex, it would fine, but we were in a relationship, you know? It didn't mean the same thing to him as it did to me apparently."

Harry suddenly felt uncomfortable.

"At least with you, all the girls you sleep with know that they'll be nothing more from you," she pointed out. "No emotional attachment, nothing. But I didn't have that with Michael. Well, I didn't. We were together. A couple. I sometimes think he kind of just dated me to, umm, what do they say, get in my pants."

Harry's fists automatically clenched. "Do you want me to kill him? I'll fucking kill him, Hermione."

Hermione let out a haunting laugh. "No, please don't do that," she said, tilting her head to the side. "But thank you, really. It's just that, well, I suppose that I started to use him back," she said, her face portraying even more of her embarrassment.

He was confused. "Hermione?"

"I don't know why you didn't just tell me that sex was so great, Harry," she said, making him just that bit more uncomfortable. This conversation was definitely not going the way he'd anticipated. "I mean, I'd never understood the appeal before, but now I know."

He took a deep breath, desperately wishing he could disappear. He did not want to look at Hermione and see her as a sexual being. It was just a little too much for his little boy brain to handle for one lifetime. She was his best friend. This was too much.

Hermione continued anyway, needing to say this out loud. "So I think I'm done with relationships, for now, at least. Michael and I ended a few weeks ago, and he's being a right prat about it. Terry even asked me out but Michael apparently said something to him, and I just don't want to deal with the drama of immature boys."

Harry was still in a bit of shock at all of these revelations but he was able to fake it. "But you're okay, right?"

She nodded. "Of course. I can take care of myself, you know?"

"We know," he said, standing up and feeling a bit light-headed. "We just worry. You're the most important to us too."

"I think you're speaking for yourself there, Mr Potter. My mantle has been taken by Luna where Ron is concerned."

Harry had to agree with that. "Well, you're still the most important to me," he concluded. "I just want to see you happy, Hermione." And he meant it. If she were happy, and he could be the one to make her that way; his life would be complete.

She put her hand out, making him move towards her. She took hold of his hand and pulled him nice and close. "Thank you for looking out for me. I want to see you happy too, you know?"

"I know."

"Now get out," she chided playfully. "I have N.E.W.T.s to pass."

Harry laughed. "That's my cue." He bent down and kissed the top of her head, absently breathing in. He felt the strangest sensation stir in the pit of his stomach and he had a confused look on his face when he stood up straight.

"Everything okay, Harry?" Hermione asked, looking concerned.

He nodded. "Of course," he lied. "Just a little dizzy. Must have stood up too fast."

She just nodded. "Be careful."

"Later," he said, turning and heading towards the door. He felt really off-balance, like everything about his world had shifted without any warning. He grabbed hold of the door handle and turned back to look at Hermione.

She was just returning to her work, stretching slightly and resettling in her chair. Harry's eyes were drawn to the curve of the back of her neck. And then her straight back. And then her legs, hidden under the desk...

Harry shook his head. What the hell was going on with him? This was Hermione.

Who he now knew liked sex.

If that didn't change the way he looked at her, he didn't know what would. Merlin, what was he expected to tell Ron now?

Harry opened the door and left the bedroom, desperately needing to breathe air that didn't smell like her. Of course, Ron was full of questions for Harry as soon as he spotted him and the raven-haired wizard was able to tell the redhead that Michael Corner and Hermione had dated and then suffered quite a bad breakup. He thought that was sufficient. He knew that Hermione trusted him not to reveal the rest.

Harry retired early, mainly because he wasn't feeling all that well. He wouldn't allow himself to accept that it had anything to do with Hermione, but more to do with his anger towards Corner. How dare he treat Hermione that way?

Harry knew that he used witches that way, but it wasn't as if he gave them false hope. They always knew where he stood. He did not want a relationship. And, even if he did, he knew that he would treat that particular witch so much better than Corner ever treated Hermione. It still angered him to think about it. Hermione Granger was someone who had to be treated right, because she was great and honest and perfect.

Corner was a fucking idiot.

Despite his anger the previous night, Harry was feeling much better in the morning. He was even up and dressed before anyone else, which wasn't what normally happened. He made himself some breakfast before he spread himself out in the living room and watched early Saturday morning cartoons.

He wasn't ashamed to admit that they absolutely fascinated him. He'd missed out on them in his early childhood, and he was still trying to make up for it.

Hermione emerged from her bedroom first, still dressed in her pyjamas and a nightgown. Harry could only stare, really, even though there wasn't really much to see. What the fuck was wrong with him? Yes, Harry, Hermione Granger is a girl. It's not such a surprise.

The thing was that Harry did know that his Hermione was beautiful. He'd seen her countless times before, but it felt different this time. The change was to do with him, not her. He was the one seeing her differently, and it was starting to worry him.

He could get through this Saturday. He was sure of it. He was just reeling at the fact that he now knew a little too much about Hermione's love-life. That was it. A week would go by and everything would be back to normal. He wouldn't be feeling so tight in his clothes when she was around, and his body wouldn't immediately heat up at even the slightest contact. He was sure of it.

He had to be.

Somehow, Harry managed to survive the weekend, and then Hermione was gone for another week at Hogwarts. He'd never really wanted so much time alone before. He even went so far as to distract himself with other witches, which worked right until the moment Hermione was back for the following weekend, taunting him with the knowledge that she liked sex.

Harry quite hated that he was a typical boy all of a sudden. He could only imagine what painful things Hermione would do to him if she even knew what he was thinking. He was suddenly very grateful that she had never learned Legilimency.

"Brunch tomorrow?" Hermione asked Harry, cutting into his wandering thoughts.

"What?"

She smiled at him. "Someone's out of it," she observed, throwing a cushion at him from across the couch in their living room. "I said, are we still on for brunch tomorrow?"

"Of course."

She kept her eyes on him. "Is everything okay, Harry? You seem a little distracted."

It's you! You're so damn distracting! "I'm okay," he said, lying. "I just, I guess," he hesitated, unable to think of anything plausible. "I've got a lot on my mind."

"What could you possibly be thinking about?" she asked, raising an eyebrow in mild amusement. "All your girls. Struggling to juggle them all?"

Harry swallowed. "I resent that."

"It's the truth though, isn't it?"

"Well, it turns out that I'm not the only one who doesn't want to deal with the drama of relationships," he said pointedly. "It's easier this way, isn't it? And a lot more satisfying."

Hermione just shook her head. She hadn't expected this from her best friend at first but, in a way, she understood it. She couldn't blame him either. It was just surprising sometimes whenever she allowed herself to think about just how promiscuous the famous Harry Potter could be.

But he was a teenage boy after all, and witches had always thrown themselves at him. She'd be questioning his sexuality if he didn't engage from time to time.

"It works though, doesn't it?" he added.

Hermione kept her eyes on him for a moment, searching for something, anything, in his gaze. "It does make getting a date to my Graduation Ball a little difficult though," she said, choosing not to agree with him until she'd actually tried it.

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Is that your not so subtle way of asking me to be your date, Hermione?"

Her eyes widened. "What? No! I didn't mean that."

He sat up to look at her properly. "It's okay," he said coyly. "Really, just say it. You're in a safe space here, Hermione. You want me to be your date. Go on then. Ask away."

"You're the worst," she muttered, throwing another cushion at him. "I wouldn't want to stroke your ever-growing ego by inviting you of all people."

Harry scooted down the couch towards her. "This has nothing to do with my ego," he said seriously, his gaze turning that intense that always made her breath catch. She could practically feel it on her skin. "I'm offering, Hermione. If you don't want to ask someone else, you can always count on me. I promise I'll always be here for you."

There he went again with his severe promises. He was so close to her that she could feel the heat of him. "You'd really come with me?" she found herself asking, her voice barely a whisper.

"Of course," he answered easily.

"But I thought you didn't want to go back," she pointed out, giving him an out.

"I wouldn't go back for them, Hermione, but I'd always go back for you. I'd do anything for you."

Hermione could barely handle his profound statements, and it was taking all she had not to fling her arms around him and never let him go. "Okay," she breathed.

His face broke into a smile and he threw his fist into the air. "Yes! I'm going to have the prettiest date in town!"

"Oh Harry," she chided softly.

"It's true," he said, meeting her gaze once more. "And I'm telling you right now that Corner is going to eat his heart out, Hermione. Anyone who hurts my friends will suffer the wrath of Harry Potter."

If anyone else had said the words, Hermione might have laughed. But this was Harry Potter: he had faced off against the Darkest wizard to have lived, and he was loyal to a fault.

Just as she was.

"Harry," she breathed.

"Wow," he huffed, surprised at himself. "Did I just sound like Darth Vader or what?"

She risked a smile, reaching to touch his forearm. "I told you that I don't need you to fight my battles, Harry."

"Who said anything about fighting a battle, Hermione?" he asked, raising an eyebrow somewhat coyly. "There are other ways to make a boy burn."

For a moment, Hermione just stared at him, trying to figure out who she was actually seeing in front of her. It was as if she didn't recognise him.

But then he smiled his lop-sided grin, and her heart stilled. "You are too important to me, Hermione. My number one, remember?"

She just nodded. "Okay."

Harry put a hand over hers, squeezing slightly. "Don't forget."

She wouldn't.