Two weeks. It had been two bloody weeks since Hermione abruptly left the cottage on the coast and Harry still had yet to hear from the witch. At first he didn't notice her distinct absence in his life as he had so much work to catch up on, but by the time Wednesday rolled around and he'd not seen or heard from her, he began to worry.

His owls went unanswered—numerous bloody owls. He'd sent what felt like thousands, their contents ranging from a simple 'hello?' to 'lunch is lonely without you.' Sometimes they questioned why she was ignoring him, or requesting any sort of sign that she was indeed alive and well.

The concern he'd felt from her absence began to morph into confusion after being turned away from her office for the third time that week. He knew Goldstein was full of shit; the wizard was clearly lying when he claimed Hermione was ill. Hermione was never sick, and even if she had been under the weather, she would have suffered in silence at work because Harry knew the Mermaid exhibit documents had been due to the court that week. His mind swirled with possibilities of what he'd done or said that might have pissed her off, but every time his mind came up empty.

They'd had three great days at the cottage, and one amazing night wrapped together beneath the sheets. Nothing between them had changed, which begged the question, why had she?

The confusion that had plagued him slowly shifted to anger, and finally to fury when Harry found his access to her Floo network blocked that very morning when he'd tried to fire call her. His thoughts no longer lingered on what he had done to earn her ire, but instead were focused on finding her and giving her a piece of his mind.

Nearly two decades worth of friendship weren't something he was willing to part with easily, and truth be told it hurt a little to know she could so easily shut him out.

She was avoiding him.

Willfully, and perhaps even maliciously avoiding him!

Which is why he'd decided that very morning to find her—in person-and ask her to explain herself. He might even demand an apology depending on how the conversation went, because clearly, between the two of them, she was in the wrong.

He dressed for the day in a pair of denim trousers, a plain cotton tee and a thin sweatshirt, opting for casual Muggle attire as he knew her favorite spots within the city were more often than not in her Muggle neighborhood as opposed to the Magical community. With a pocket full of both Galleons and Pounds, he set off to canvas her local haunts in hopes of finding the witch.

His first stop had been her flat. To no surprise, her door remained unanswered and her wards prevented him from using magic to so much as step foot in her flat. He debated sitting and waiting out her return, but without knowing when she'd left, or where she'd gone, he figured he might as well keep pounding the pavement until he found her.

His next stop had been a shabby little second-hand store three blocks from her flat. He could never understand her love for the dingy shop. He'd grown up accustomed hand-me-downs and didn't find the idea of purchasing used product as exciting as she did. Nonetheless, he visited the mothball infested shop and searched the narrow aisles but came up empty handed again.

Morning had slipped into afternoon, and afternoon into early evening by the time he pushed open the door to the Muggle café on her corner, driven to the establishment not with hopes of finding Hermione, but rather to cure the rumble in his stomach. However, the moment the door swung shut behind him and he spotted a familiar set of curls in the far back corner of the room, the idea of ordering a cheese toastie immediately disappeared.

She was here.

She was fucking here.

Harry's body went taut with each step he took towards her, his jaw setting as he wove through the maze of tables and chairs. The closer he got, the more his anger and hurt warred within him, the speech he'd planned to recite getting pushed to the recesses of his mind until finally he was standing next to the elusive witch and the practiced words were completely forgotten.

Hermione was sitting with her legs crossed over one another on the seat of the chair, thick curls piled on the top of her head and a worn book held between her hands. Her table was a mess—littered with paper wrappers from muffins, used napkins and a plate that, based on the bits of remaining lettuce and bread crusts, had once held a sandwich.

She looked at peace, consumed by whatever text she'd selected for that dreary Saturday, and Harry didn't know if the fact that she didn't seem at all bothered by their lack of communication made him more enraged or simply hurt.

"Are you avoiding me?" Harry blurted out abruptly, his voice a bit louder than he intended.

Hermione jumped, her hands clutching her book to her chest as she lifted her eyes to look up at him. They were wide in shock, but whether it was due to being found or being startled seemed to be indistinguishable as he looked down at her.

"Merlin, what are you doing here?" she breathed, her brow knitting as she unfolded her legs so her loafered feet touched the floor.

"Trying to bloody talk to you!" Harry snapped, his eyes tracking her movement as she hastily inserted a ribbon into the book and snapped it shut. Her body had turned away from his, purposefully blocking him as she began to pick up the table, avoiding his gaze. "Answer the question, Mione. Are you avoiding me?"

"What on earth are you talking about Harry?" Hermione scoffed as she snatched her wallet from the table and stood up, quickly tucking it into the back pocket of her denim trousers. She then gathered her book, tucking it under her arm securely before she moved to pick up the paper cup of what he could only assume was tea.

"You…You have been!" Harry moved his body, blocking her escape, using his thick frame to trap her between the table, chair and wall.

"Don't be absurd, Harry," Hermione said with a quick roll of her eyes. Her lips thinned, and her grip on her tea tightened as she looked up at him when he mirrored her movements once more, preventing her from leaving the little nook. An exasperated breath pulled from her lungs and she looked up at him with flared nostrils. "Look, I've been busy."

"Too busy to return owls?"

"Yes."

"But not busy enough to block my Floo access."

"Oh Godric." Before Harry could react, Hermione reached out and pushed on his right shoulder with enough force to send him stumbling backward, giving her the opportunity to slip past him and move briskly toward the exit.

"Hey…Hey!" Harry shouted as he moved after her, shouldering past lingering patrons and uttering a hasty apology to an elderly man he cut off on his way to the exit. "Hey, we're not done here Hermione!"

"I don't have time for this, Harry." Hermione didn't bother to look over her shoulder as she spoke, instead pushing open the glass door to the café and moving onto the busy street.

Harry ran after her, dodging an oncoming pram as he caught up and grabbed her arm. Pulling her with him towards the small alley that ran adjacent to the café he tugged her far enough in until they had a bit of privacy from the bustle of the Saturday shoppers. "Gods dammit, Hermione. What the bloody hell is going on with you!?"

"Nothing is going on!" Hermione shouted, attempting to yank her arm free, but his grip only tightened. "I just want to be left alone, okay?! Merlin, can't you just leave me the bloody hell alone?" Her cup slipped from her hands in her struggle, and smacked against the wet cobblestone, sending the hot liquid splashing on the bottom of both of their trousers.

"Fuck!" she snarled, letting out a small growl in frustration as she looked down at her damp trousers before up at Harry once more. "Look, I'm a bloody mess right now and I just want to be alone. I'm fucking damaged, Harry. Not even a Healer could fix me at this point."

Harry's eyes widened in recognition as she spat his own words back at him and he instantly let go of her arm. "…fuck," he whispered as he took a step back, his stomach churning wildly. Of course. Of fucking course.

"That's right, Harry," Hermione lashed out, brown eyes sparkling with tears that had begun to well up in the corner of her eyes. "Didn't think I heard, did you?"

"Hermione, it's not…it's not like that."

"Isn't it, though?! You bloody said it, not me!"

Harry stumbled back under the weight of her anger until his back pressed into the opposite wall, his hands lifting to card through his hair as he watched her brush away tears that had begun to fall. He'd fucked up. He'd hurt her, and worse–what he said wasn't even something he believed! He had just been trying to deflect, push away the possibility of actually wanting something more with her so that his world didn't shatter when they finally did decide that sleeping together was a bad idea. "I was just—Andi was asking questions about us…and I—I was trying to explain how we what we were doing was just physical—like playing Quid—"

Hermione let out a bitter laugh that silenced his words, drowning them in the churning sea of despair that was steadily forming in his stomach. "That's right. How bloody stupid of me to forget. I'm just some…some fuck toy for you."

"Whoa!" Harry's hand dropped from his head and he lifted them towards her, palms out. "Whoa, Hermione where is this coming from? You know that's not true."

"Where is this coming from!?" Hermione repeated as she dragged her hand across her upper lip to pull the collection moisture away from her lips. "Harry, you've been using me!"

"No! No, no! I haven't!" Harry shook his head quickly, his eyes widening as her words sliced directly to his heart. He would never! She was his friend. She was his…his bloody world! How could she even think that? "This—This is what we agreed upon! Remember, the contract? It was just shagging, no emotions."

"Gods, I'm so bloody stupid," Hermione laughed, her gaze leaving his to meet the sky as her body swayed, unable to remain still as her emotions took over all conscious thought. "You were supposed to be different than the other guys."

"I am different!" Harry defended, taking half a step towards her. "Hermione, we're friends…I care about you."

"No! No, Harry. You cared because you wanted to shag me. You cared because I was giving you something in return for your friendship. You bloody cared because it benefited you!" Hermione spat, her tears spilling fast down her cheeks than before. Bending down, she snatched the fallen cup from the group, her fingers crumpling it as she began to move away from him. "I thought you were my friend, but I guess I was wrong."

"Hermione." Harry reached out, moving forward to try and prevent her from leaving. He couldn't let her go thinking he felt that way. She was his friend. His best friend! He would do anything in the world for her, and had he known that…that their friendship would end in tatters, he would have never given in to the impulse to sleep with her. He would have never risked losing her over something so bloody stupid.

"No!" she double-stepped away from him, holding out her hand to prevent him from touching her as she shook her head firmly. "Just…just leave me alone, Harry."

"But—"

"Stop!" she shouted, her bottom lip quivering as she inhaled deeply, the rasp in her throat from her tears causing her breath to hitch. "Just leave me the fuck alone, Harry…I can't do this anymore."

Harry sank back against the wall, watching helplessly as she fled from the alley and into the throng of people who moved up and down the sidewalk, and for several minutes he stood dumbfounded, his mind swirling to comprehend what had just occurred and how he could possibly fix what had broken between them, but every possibility he came up with ended the same.

He'd lost her.

He'd lost his best friend.

The one person in the entire world who stood by him, no matter what. The one who risked her life to keep him alive when they were kids, despite the very real possibility of dying. The one who'd begged to go with him when he went to face Voldemort.

He'd fucked up, and the truth was, he wasn't sure how, or if he was ever going to be able to repair the damage between them, and it scared him to death knowing he might have lost the most important person in his life.

"Uncle Harry?"

"Yeah?" Harry rolled his head to the side to look at his godson, the mound of blankets they'd stolen from the guest rooms cushioning their bodies against the hardwood floor in his sitting room.

After his run-in with Hermione, Harry wasn't feeling up to doing much. He was supposed to meet Seamus and Dean for drinks, but even the prospect of drowning his sorrows in the bottom of a bottle sounded exhausting. No, after their row, and his subsequent self-loathing, Harry only wanted one thing in the entire world. His godson.

Teddy was a happy distraction from his thoughts, and he knew that during the boy's waking hours he simply wouldn't be allowed to wallow in self-pity over his major fuck up. So with that in mind, he had picked up the boy from Andromeda and promptly stopped at the ice cream parlor, owling Seamus and Dean once he and Teddy returned to Grimmauld Place to let them know his plans had changed.

"Is Hermione upset?" Teddy questioned as he rolled onto his stomach, his legs kicking in the air as he propped his chin on his upturned palms.

"What? Why would you ask that?" Moving his hands from his stomach to the carpet, Harry propped himself up on his elbows before rolling on his side to face the boy.

"Well Gran told Kingsley she left early because…" His little face pinched, violet eyes rolling towards the ceiling in thought. "…because you buggered things up."

"Oh…" Harry winced, eyes dropping to the mass of blankets beneath them, and he lifted a hand to brush through his untidy hair. "Gran might not be wrong on this one. Hermione is upset and might not come around for a bit."

"Oh…that's sad," Teddy said with a small frown. "I like Hermione."

"I know you do," Harry replied with a small, wistful laugh. "Sorry bud."

"You know," Teddy began as he sat up on his knees, facing his godfather with an air of authority as he crossed his arms over his chest. "We are her friends."

"Yes, I do know that."

"And as her friends, it's our job to help make her happy," Teddy said matter-of-factly, black hair shifting into a honey brown mop of curls as he spoke. "Sometimes, when I'm upset, Gran will come give me a hug and bring me a cuppa and it makes me feel better. Maybe you should try to give Hermione a hug and see if it helps her."

Harry's face split into a wide smile as he looked up to his thoughtful godson. Merlin, how he wished it could be that simple. A hug and an apology could have fixed any problems that arose between them over a decade ago, but now? Now life was different. It was messy and made even more complicated by the fact that they'd pushed their relationship past the post of friendly and into dangerously murky waters.

"I think that's a great idea, Teddy. But I'm sorry to say I don't think a hug will fix it this time," Harry said with a soft smile as he reached up to run his fingers across the boy's curly brown hair. "Thank you for thinking of that though. You're quite smart."

"I know, Gran tells me all the time I am," Teddy replied with a toothy grin, violet eyes dancing under the praise. "But, I still think you should try because Hermione's nice."

Harry nodded, lowering himself back down to lay on the blankets, his hands folding over the flat of his stomach. "Yeah…yeah, she is."

As he lay there, his mind began to drift to the witch in question. Their fight replayed in his mind for what felt like the umpteenth time since this afternoon. And just like before, his stomach began to churn as the images of her tears and the pain that was so vivid on her face returned. Knowing he was the cause only seemed to make it all the worse.

What he wouldn't do to take it all away. To make everything right between them. He'd bloody figure out a way to rearrange the stars in the sky if it meant fixing this, because Hermione meant so much to him. Every happy memory he had involved her. Every time he received good news, she was the first person he wanted to tell. Every time he was sad, he turned to her for comfort. She was more than just his friend.

She was the love of his life.

And just as quickly as the thought floated through his head, his heart froze as the recognition set in.

She wasn't just his best friend.

She was more.

He loved her.

He loved Hermione.

And not just because it was convenient—because it was far from that at this point. He loved everything about her. The way she pushed him to be a better person. The way she brought him up instead of holding him down. The way she supported his crazy ideas, and helped him work through his problems. He even loved the way she would nag at him, reminding him to clean his bloody flat, or change his sheets on a regular basis.

He loved her. Every last thing about her.

"Fuck," Harry whispered, pushing up quickly off the floor, his head swirling with recognition as the empty feeling in the pit of his stomach grew larger. "Oh, shite."

"Potty mouth words!" Teddy giggled, pointing at his godfather as he bounced. "That's two! You owe me two sickles!"

Harry looked over to the boy who was holding out his hand expectantly, and he shook his head. "Right, sorry! Uh, just a second Teddy." Pushing up off the floor, Harry crossed the sitting room quickly and snagged some of the loose coins from the dish he left on his entry table, and he tossed them onto the blanket for his godson. "Teddy, you just...uh, you stay there alright? I need to make a fire call."

Teddy didn't even glance up as he scrambled to collect the coins, stuffing them into his pocket as he nodded his head.

Harry moved from the room, his tongue dragging across his lips as he took the stairs two at a time towards his library. He needed to find that book, the one Hermione always looked at when she came over, but more importantly, he had several phone calls to make. If this was going to work—if he was going to fix this, he was going to need all the bloody help he could get!

"Thank you both, again," Harry rushed out as he walked backwards out of the sitting room, a small, leather-bound book in one hand while the other held his coat.

"Don't mention it," Dean assured him, smiling from where he sat on the couch with his arm around Teddy. "We don't mind at all."

"Speak for yourself," Seamus scoffed. His arms were crossed over his chest as he stood beside the fireplace, eyeing Harry skeptically. "You have until eleven."

"Take as much time as you need," Dean corrected with a roll of his eyes.

"I expect a nice bottle of wine," Seamus added.

"No repayment is necessary…of any kind."

"And a raise! Because you are aware that babysitting is not on my duty statement, Harry."

"Seamus!"

Seamus let out a dramatic sigh, the back of his hand hitting his forehead as he leaned back against the mantle. "Okay, fine. Just make sure you don't come back with nothing to show, got it?"

"That's the plan." Harry laughed, emerald eyes flickering between the couple before he looked Teddy who was contently flipping through a picture book Dean had brought over with him. "You be good and listen to Uncle Seamus and Dean, okay Teddy?"

"I know." Teddy looked up with a little roll of his eyes, tucking the book against his chest. "But remember….you have to give Hermione a hug or she won't be happy."

"A hug? Harry needs to give her a lot more than—" Seamus began, but when Dean shot him a hard look he pressed his lips together, his hands lifting in mock surroundings.

"Ha! Okay. I'll remember," Harry agreed, winking at the boy before he turned and headed from the room. He slipped into his coat as he moved down the hallway towards his front door, the small leather-bound book feeling heavy in his hands despite its tiny size. He didn't know if this would work, and honestly he felt slightly foolish for thinking up this plan, but he had to try.

Checking his bookmarked passage one last time, making sure he'd selected the right page before stuffing the book in his pocket, he headed out into Muggle London.

Hermione didn't want to go home.

Not when everything in her flat reminded her of him.

It was hard enough getting over the gut-wrenching betrayal, but to have to face the loss of her friendship in the one place that was supposed to be a safe spot for her felt like a slap in the face.

Nearly every picture that lined her shelves had him beside her. Every knick-knack was from a memory of them together. Harry had been a part of her life for so long now, she wondered if she would ever be free from this feeling-this emptiness that lingered in the very center of her chest.

Instead of going home, Hermione had found herself wandering Diagon Alley, wasting the hours until daylight faded, and by the time her stomach rumbled, reminding her that she'd missed dinner, the enticing smells drifting from the Leaky Cauldron called her to snag a spot at the bar.

She ordered a simple meal of chicken pot pie and a pint, and settled into the low-backed barstool. Pulling her well worn paperback of Pride and Prejudice from her messenger bag, she allowed herself to get lost in the beautiful world Jane Austen created-allowing herself to forget her problems. Even if just for a moment.

She was halfway through her meal, picking at the flakey crust around the white-rimmed dish when a loud commotion at the far end of the bar pulled her attention up from her book.

"Mr. Potter! Mr. Potter what on earth do you think you're doing?!"

Harry had managed to pull himself up on the top of the bar, standing on the well-worn wood as he fumbled through a leatherbound book she instantly recognized. In his other hand a small bouquet of wildflowers dangled, drooping from his fingertips, threatening to fall into patrons' plates and pints.

"No…" Hermione whispered, her face paling.

"She walks in beauty, like the night. Of cloudless climes and starry skies; And all that's best of dark and bright-" Harry began reciting a poem aloud. The same poem she'd read thousands of times before in the old text in his library. It was far from her favorite, but it's meaning wasn't lost. As he spoke, his voice ringing out over the growing noise of the frustrated customers, he began to walk down the bar towards her. "Meet in her aspect and her eyes; Thus mellowed to that tender light. Which heaven to gaudy day denies."

Hermione's entire body froze, eyes widening as she watched him move ever-closer to her, his boots toppling over pints of ale and Butterbeer, spilling the contents over angry patrons and across the bar. Her heart came to a stop when their eyes connected, and for a moment she forgot how to bloody breathe.

"One shade the more, one ray the less, Had half impaired the nameless grace. Which waves in every raven tress, Or softly lightens o'er her face; Where thoughts serenely sweet express, How pure, how dear their dwelling-place." As he spoke the lines, it didn't feel as though he was merely reciting a poem, but rather reading them directly to her heart. This was not just some stupid attempt for him to get back in her good graces. No, this was a grand gesture. This was what she wanted-or rather what she'd mentioned wanting to him before. Had she known then that it would involve a mortifying amount of embarrassment, she might have reconsidered.

"Mr. Potter! I will not ask again!" Tom shouted, his face turning purple in his anger as he fumbled to pick up spill after spill behind Harry. "Get down!"

Harry gave Tom one last fleeting glance, giving a sympathetic smile before his eyes dropped back to the book in his hand. "And on that cheek, and o'er that brow, So soft, so calm, yet eloquent," he said slowly, carefully stepping over a plate of shepherd's pie and avoiding toppling over another drink as he moved to an opening not far from where Hermione sat. With a less than graceful dismount from the bartop, Harry moved toward her. As he drew close, she could note a distinct tremble in his hands that gave away his nervousness. "The smiles that win, the tints that glow, But tell of days in goodness spent, A mind at peace with all below, A heart whose love is innocent."

Hermione slipped down from the barstool, leaving her coat and purse hanging on the side as she moved to meet Harry halfway, closing the distance between them before she glanced around at the crowded bar whose sole focus was the two of them. "Merlin, have you gone mad, Harry?"

"Possibly," he said plainly before thrusting the wildflower bouquet towards her. Emerald eyes brimmed with hope as he closed the book, and tucked it into his front trouser pocket. "Look, Hermione. I'm sorry. I messed up-bad. I know I did, but I just want my best friend back."

Her hands wrapped around the uneven stems and she took the bouquet from the wizard. Lifting the petals to her nose, she took a slow inhale, letting the floral aroma envelope her senses before she glanced up to him over the edge of the flowers. "I...I don't know, Harry. You really hurt me."

"I know I did, and I'm sorry-Circe, I'm so bloody sorry." Harry lifted his hand to ruffle the top of his head, his eyes dropping to the floor as he let a heavy breath push from his lungs. "Look, I can live without ever having sex with you again if that's what it takes-it would be really bloody hard, but I could do it."

Her hand moved from the flowers to touch her lips trying to stifle the laugh that bubbled up from inside as she watched Harry try to gather his thoughts, his fingers twisting his hair like he always did when he was nervous, his body swaying from his left to right foot, as if unable to just stay still through his speech.

"Don't laugh, it's true," Harry rushed, his cheeks tinting pink. "Hermione, I'm serious. I'd give it all up if it meant I got my best friend back...because…because-" His words trailed off as his hand moved to smother over his face, his lungs inflating with a deep breath in a clear attempt to gather his courage. "Because I think I'm in love with her," he said after his hand dropped to his side, emerald eyes boring into her soul as he spoke the words she had longed to hear.

Her lips parted and she felt her breath hitch in her throat, preventing her from taking in any more air as she watched Harry with wide eyes. She knew this was going somewhere, but...love. Love? That was a four letter word she did not see coming.

"No, I know I am," Harry said with an awakened certainty. "Hermione, you're my person-or whatever that bloody nonsense those movies you love so much call it. I wake up, and the first thing I think about is you. You're the first person I tell anything important to. And now that I've thought about it, it was so bloody obvious all along. I never had luck dating because none of those other women were you. I always found faults because I already knew I found my person...You've always been there, and maybe I didn't notice before, or maybe I just took you for granted but I won't make that bloody mistake ever again. I want you by my side at those gods-awful events, but not as my friend...as my girlfriend. I don't want to just play Quidditch anymore, I want the whole package. I want you because...because I love you."

Love.

Harry said he loved her.

Not just that friendship type of love. Not the she's like my sister type of love.

The four-letter-word, all-consuming, be together until the end of time kind of love.

The kind of love she thought she'd never find, but he was right. It'd been there the whole time, cleverly disguised as a friendship.

The flowers slipped from her fingertips as the gravity of what he'd just professed to her in an entire pub full of people sank in. Harry loved her! Without any hesitation she closed the space between them quickly, her arms locking around his neck as she rose up on the tips of her toes to press her lips into his in a searing kiss.

Years of emotions poured from the very centre of her soul as she clung to him, their lips gliding against one another with an ease that felt so bloody right it was simply impossible to ignore. She felt his hands curl around her waist, pulling her body tight against his until she could feel his heartbeat tattoo against her skin. The combination of his touch, his kiss and his words that repeated in her mind made her body come to life. Parts of her quivered and pulsed with a desire so deep she wasn't even aware it was possible to feel so bloody in love with someone.

The crowd around them cheered, clapping and hollering as Harry swept his tongue into her mouth, and the cacophony of sound overtook the rushing sound of her blood in her ears, reminding her that they were not alone. Her fingers brushed through the side of his hair as she broke the kiss with a gentle nip on his bottom lip.

Harry stood breathless, his forehead pressing into hers as a slow smile spread across his lips. His eyes remained closed, and the pink blush that had swept on the apples of his cheeks was now a deep crimson. Cracking open one eye, Harry shyly smiled at her, his fingertips slipping beneath the hem of her shirt to brush across the skin on her hips. "Does this mean you feel the same?"

"Do you even need to ask?" Hermione breathed.

"I want to hear you say it."

"I love you too...now shut up and take me home, you idiot." Hermione laughed, her nose wrinkling as her smile spread to match his as she took a step back from his arms, moving to collect her things so they could get out of this pub and spend the rest of the evening making up properly in the privacy of her flat.

No Kissing

No One Knows

No Sleepovers

No Cuddling

No Romance

No Expectations

No Asking About The Other Person's Dates

No Jealousy

No Going on Dates with Each Other

No Falling in Love