Disclaimer – J. K. Rowling owns Harry Potter

A/N – Thanks to phil_urich for beta reading this for me.

Leaning against the bar of the Leaky Cauldron, Harry gazed across the brightly decorated room. They were currently celebrating Neville's birthday; his fiancé Hannah Abbott, the new landlady, was throwing him a surprise birthday party at the Leaky.

Harry easily spotted his best friend, and while trying to be discreet he watched her as she interacted with the group of witches around her. He saw her take a sip of wine as she listened intently to something Padma Patil said. He noticed her forehead furrow slightly as she thought hard about whatever had been said. He could read the witch almost like he was looking in a mirror. Spending so many years in close contact with each other brought an unique closeness that they shared.

After a few moments of watching, Seamus, a notorious ladies man, joined them. When he saw her laugh at something he had said, Harry scowled.

"You know mate," he heard Ron say, standing next to him. "If I stare at my sister like that, please, kill me."

As Harry's head slowly turned to glare at him, Ron just laughed harder. "What are you getting on about?"

"It's so painfully obvious. You fancy Hermione," Ron answered. His own relationship with Hermione had started as a long, drawn out argument, exploded in to a fury of passion, and then crashed quickly. It had taken them a few years, but they repaired their friendship. Meanwhile, he had watched Harry and Hermione slowly drift towards each other. While at first, it was a bit awkward and upsetting. But, as Hermione and he patched things up, and he started seeing her as just a friend, he started to find the humor in it.

"Whatever, Ron," Harry muttered as he took a sip from his butterbeer. Ron wasn't the only one who noticed the slight change in Harry and Hermione, but the only ones who didn't was themselves. Most weren't surprised in the least, having felt it was only inevitable, no matter how many times they claimed to be just friends.

"Come on," Ron said. "You look ready to go over there and rip poor Seamus apart."

As Harry muttered something under his breath, Neville joined them at bar. "Hey, guys, what are we up to?" he greeted.

"Happy Birthday, Nev," Harry said.

"Happy Birthday," Ron said as well. "We're just watching the Champion here, not pine over Hermione."

"So, the usual then," Neville said sarcastically. He tried to hide his smirk as Harry's head turned to his other side, and he glared at him now. "What?" he tried to ask innocently.

"You're both nuts," Harry grumbled as he turned his back to Hermione.

"The noble act is running thin, mate," Ron told Harry. "If you don't do something, how much longer do you think it'll be until someone else finally does catch her eye. She's not going to be free forever. Some poor bloke is bound to come around sooner or later, and decide her craziness is worth sticking around."

Listening to Ron, Neville simply rolled his eyes. "Harry, what Ron is saying is true, in a way. Hermione's not going to stay single forever, and if it's not you, someone else will come along."

Remaining silent, Harry tried to ignore his friends. It wasn't that he was completely against the idea, but he thought that trying a relationship with Hermione was far more trouble than it was worth.

"Hey, isn't Krum supposed to be around next week?" Neville mentioned.

Ron snickered. "Yea, Bulgaria is playing us in a friendly. I think Hermione said something about going out to dinner or something while he was in town. There's even a rumor going around that he might transfer from Germany, to play domestically here."

He knew Hermione was supposed to go out to dinner with Krum, an old friend as she put it. He also already knew about the rumor about Krum possibly playing in the BIQL next year. Ever since Harry had joined England's international team, there had always been a friendly rivalry between the two. Much more low key than the media usually portrayed it. But, to be honest, the last few weeks leading up to this match, Harry had been much more focused and training much more heavily than he normally would. Telling himself that it was just his competitive instincts kicking in, how he hated to lose, but in the back of his mind, he wanted to prove that he was not only on Krum's level, but better.

Resting his now empty bottle on the bar, he walked away from his gossiping friends, and headed outside for a breather. Why is everyone so interested in my blasted personal life? Every rag in this country has some kind of Potter watch! Oh, he was seen with her, then the next Monday, he was seen with her.

"What sane person cares what I do?" he muttered as he stepped out of the pub and on to the streets of Muggle London.

Stuffing his hands in to his trouser pockets, Harry looked about the street. With the last rays of the suns going away, the last of the day traffic was disappearing and being replaced by the sparse night traffic. Even though it was Thursday, people were still coming out and enjoying the night life of London.

"I don't know, I might care," an all to familiar voice answered him sarcastically. "Because, I'm the one who usually as to help you get out of trouble," Hermione added with a laugh, as she joined him outside.

One of the blessings of being a Seeker, is that one tended to have quick hands. So, as he saw Hermione's ankle bend slightly as she tried to walk over to him, his hands were already out of his pockets and holding on to her waist by the time her legs wobbled.

"Ruddy shoes," Hermione slurred a little, as she glanced down at her high heels.

Arching an eye brow, a small smirk appeared on his face as he helped Hermione regain her balance. "I don't think its the shoes," Harry commented, sparring a glance down at her low heels. "Just how many glasses of wine have you had this evening?" he teased.

"One or two," she answered mockingly. "Maybe three," she finally admitted, with a soft laugh. "I have the day off tomorrow, so I can live with the slight hangover."

Harry slowly, and almost reluctantly let go of her as she seemed to regain her footing. "Which reminds me," Hermione continued. "Tomorrow, Happy Birthday, Harry," she told him. "You still haven't said what you want for you're birthday."

Running a hand over his mouth to mask his groan as his mind immediately went in to gutter. "You know me, I don't like making a big deal about my birthday. The Ministry already puts too much of a spotlight on it. I'm thinking something low key, although, Ron is probably going to drag me out somewhere drinking."

"Well, next year, I'm throwing you a party," Hermione told him matter of the factly. "Nothing lavish, but a private party with a few friends," she said, knowing exactly what he was going to ask even before he said it.

With a playful smirk, Hermione trailed her fingertips up the front of his shirt. "It will be your 30th after all. We should do something special."

Harry cursed Ron for getting in to his head, he knew he was reading too much in to it, but he couldn't help it. "Alright.

"Speaking of 30th birthdays," Harry said, figuring turnaround was fair play. "What are we going to do for your birthday? 30 years old, you're getting up there aren't you? Soon you'll grow a crooked nose, get some ugly old warts," he mocked her, and grinned widely when Hermione folded her arms across her chest and glared at him.

Harry reached out and brushed some of her hair off her shoulder. "Is that a patch of green skin?"

"Berk," Hermione said, and backhanded Harry across the chest. Pretending to be hurt, Harry stumbled back. "If all you're going to do is abuse me, I'm going back inside."

"I'm sorry." He reached out and held her wrist as she tried to turn towards the door. "Look, even with green skin and a hooked nose, you'd still be pretty."

"You just don't want me to be mad at you," she said.

"Did it work?"

"Maybe. But, I'm still going back inside to enjoy the party." She then stepped up against Harry, and leaning up kissed the corner of his mouth. "Happy Birthday, Harry. Don't stay out here too long."

Harry watched her turn and walk back inside the Leaky. With a stupid grin on his face, he stood there on the sidewalk, and looked up at the twilight sky. That was not a friendly kiss, or a just a friendly invitation. There was something different in how she said it. I must be imagining things, or it's the wine talking.

Friday morning found Harry and Hermione sitting around the small kitchen table in Harry's flat. A year or two after Hogwarts, on his birthday, Hermione had stopped by baring his birthday present and a box of French pastries. Since then, it had become a birthday ritual for her to stop by with her present and breakfast, and they would spend the morning together.

Ignoring the half mug of cold coffee on the end table beside him, Harry lounged on his couch, flipping through the latest edition of iThe Quibbler/i. After having read the same line almost five times, Harry had given up trying actually read the article as his mind kept drifting. Normally, when something was spinning around in his head, he would talk to Hermione. Problem was, it was her that was going round and round. It didn't help that she was sitting next to him on the couch.

I've known her almost 20 years. She's the same bossy, ambitious, know it all I've known for years. What the hell is so different now?

Never been attracted to her type before. Honestly, she's pretty, but not what one would call beautiful. Doesn't wear perfume, barely any makeup, and she dresses so conservatively. I'm not saying that I'm shallow and I'm only attracted to air-headed, Quaffle chasers. But…she's very… plain? What was the phrase? Girl next door?

Can smell that damn spring lilac wash that she uses though. Ok, why do I even know that? Shutting The Quibbler, Harry dropped it on his lap and closed his eyes for a moment in an effort to try to clear his thoughts.

Suddenly, an image of Hermione appeared before him, dressed in a simple t-shirt and jeans. Then, just as suddenly, Hermione's clothes morphed in to gown like dress, with a very low cut and a high slit up the skirt. Harry could almost swear that the image of Hermione was smirking at him, and then he watched breathlessly as with a playful look, she reached behind her, and the dress fell off revealing her in nothing but a pair of black lace bra and knickers.

With a sudden gasp, Harry's eyes flip open and he jerked upright on his end of the couch. As a wave of sharp pain hit him, he realized that blood had flown south. Quickly looking down, he was thankfully The Quibbler was still on his lap hiding the embarrassing situation.

"Harry?" Hermione asked. Peeking over the edge of The Daily Prophet she eyed him. "You alright?"

"Fine," he answered with a weak smile.

"Right," she said sarcastically, not believing him at all. He's up to something. Distracted, twitchy, I wonder what's going on in that head of his. Glancing at the coffee table that she picked out and made Harry buy, she noticed one French pasty was left.

Reaching out for it, Hermione paused with her hand hovering over the pastry, clenching her hand, she sighed softly as she instead grabbed one of the strawberries that she had picked up as well. I've already had two,/i she thought to herself as she slipped the strawberry in to her mouth. Too many of those things and I easily gain five pounds. Stupid conscience. But, they're so damn good, I could easily eat a dozen.

Watching her grab the strawberry, Harry frowned, easily knowing that she would rather have had the pastry. Even though she'd never admitted to it, ever, he knew she still thought about her body, and her weight. Especially lately, as they weren't as young as they once were.

But, in his perspective, she was fine the way she was. She looks better now then she ever as. I'd rather a woman have curves than be a stick figure.

"Have you decided what you want to do for your birthday?" Hermione asked him as she folded the newspaper and put it on to the coffee table.

"I thought about taking a nap," he joked. "Ron's probably going to be dragging me around every bar and hole in the wall in London."

"A nap?" she mocked him. "What are you, going on 129 instead of 29? I bet even Dumbledore knew how to celebrate his birthday."

"Ok, Miss Know it All," Harry fired back and flipping his magazine at her. "What's your perfect birthday?"

Laughing as she caught The Quibbler and put it aside, "Realistic or Dream?"

"Money is no object, you can do whatever, wherever, and whoever you want?" he answered.

Hermione thought about it for a moment, there were so many possibilities. So many different things that she had dreamed about doing and places to visit. Finally, it came to her. "A long weekend in Paris."

"Paris?"

"Yea. I love visiting Paris. The city, the art, the culture, the food. It was always one of my favorite holidays with parents." Hermione got a far away look in her eye. "I haven't been in years.

"There's this restaurant off of one of the main roads, it's a local favorite. Most of the tourists walk right by it, It has the best food I've ever tasted. Fleur told me it's been there for centuries. The best is when the these old musicians take out these really old handcrafted instruments, and they start playing. Couples move to the center of the dance floor and start dancing. It's amazing watching two people, who know really how to move, dance. Especially something like the tango. The way they move."

"Hermione, if I didn't know better, I'd think you were getting turned on," Harry said sarcastically.

"You're such a boy sometimes," she said and threw a couch pillow at him.

Sometime over the course of the night of his birthday, somewhere around his sixth shot of firewhiskey, Harry came to a couple of conclusions.

The first, regardless of how much he tried to talk himself out of it, he was crazy about Hermione. Second, he had come up with the perfect birthday present for her, a long weekend in Paris. Third, and perhaps the most important at that moment, was he was never drinking firewhiskey again.

As he spent the weekend recovering from his birthday, he began hashing out the details on Hermione's present. Most were pretty simple; he had made reservations at one of Paris' high end hotels, and after some correspondence with Fleur, found the restaurant Hermione had been reminiscing about it, and made a dinner reservation. He even persuaded Hermione's roommate, Lisa Turpin, to help him by agreeing to pack an overnight bag for Hermione and Portkeying it to the hotel room.

There was only one thing Harry could see that was going to be a problem. He was a horrible dancer, almost no sense of rhythm, and two left feet. The only thing he knew about real dancing was the few brief sessions they had before the Yule Ball, and the couple of times he fumbled through it during some Ministry event. He needed help if he didn't want what he had hoped would be a romantic gift to blow up in his face by him stomping all over Hermione's feet.

He had a month to figure out how to at least not embarrass himself. The first step was lunch with Susan Bones. He hoped if anyone could straighten him out, it would be the woman who was still helping him assimilate in to wizard society; especially when it came to the deadly game of wizarding politics.

His time at Hogwarts, where he focused more on surviving from year to year, hadn't really prepared him for assimilation as an adult in to Wizarding Society. Being the Savior and Defeater of Voldemort, along with now being a star Pro-Quidditch player, he was thrusted more than ever before in to the spotlight. To help him navigate the treacherous waters, some of the pure blood witches and wizards that had made up the former Defense Association, had come to his aid. People like the Patil twins, Anthony Goldstein, Ernie Macmillan, and of course, Susan Bones.

As they worked together, Susan and he had developed an actual friendship, mostly over a shared sarcastic sense of humor and the enjoyment of teasing the other. But in Wizarding politics, the Bones-Potter bloc, which it had been dubbed by the press, consisting of numerous old family blood lines, had become a powerful faction in their world which Susan acted as defacto leader of. Harry actually enjoyed watching Susan in action, as it was not only a role she enjoyed, but was so damn good at it.

"You want me to do what?" Susan asked rhetorically, as they sat across from each other at lunch. "How am I supposed to teach you to dance?"

Harry leaned back in his chair, and gazed across the table. "Come on, Bones. You have to know how to dance properly. All those boring Ministry functions we go to, I've seen you. Plus, you grew up in old family."

Susan leaned forward and glared dangerously at Harry. "And what's that supposed to mean?" she growled. Of all people to say something like that! she fumed silently.

Realizing he had stuck his foot in his mouth, Harry tried to do damage control. "I didn't mean it like that. Just… I need help, and I don't want to embarrass myself. You're the first person I thought of who would know anything about dancing."

"Why are you so intent on learning to dance all of the sudden?" she asked him, scrutinizing him.

Harry fidgeted with his water glass. "Well… I figure, to be a wizarding gentleman, I should know things like dancing."

Susan smirked at him, not believing it for a moment. "Try again."

"Fine," he muttered. "It's for Hermione."

"Ahh," she said with a knowing smile, and nodding her head.

"She made this big deal about some restaurant where you can dance stuff like the… what did she call it… the tango."

"I'd pay money to see you do the tango," Susan joked. "There'd be body parts flying all over the place." She giggled for a moment, as she imagined Harry flinging himself all over the place. "Where's this restaurant?"

"Paris," Harry said softly.

Scrunching her forehead, Susan couldn't hear him. "Where?"

"Paris," he said more clearer, and shifted nervously under Susan gaze.

"Paris? You're taking Hermione to Paris?" She shook her head in disbelief. The hopeless bastard. Hermione, if you don't realize how lucky you are, you're a fool.

"Alright, I'll help you. If only for the fact to save Hermione from bodily injury than anything."

"Funny," Harry said. "I'm not that bad."

Taking a sip of her water, Susan snorted and then coughed as she choked. "I've seen you dance. For someone with so much talent, you have horrible rhythm."

The following weekend, as Harry's dance lessons with Susan had begun, Hermione found herself being dragged out shopping by Lisa and Padma.

"Why do I have to buy a new outfit?" Hermione complained as they wandered from shop to shop. Shopping was one of her least favorite activities. She hated the time wasted as she would be dragged from place to place to simply look at what they offered, too many times not even buying anything. Not to mention the boredom. She shopped with the mantra, get in and get out.

"Because, most of your wardrobe consists of jeans and shirts," Padma answered.

"Well, I'm sorry we can't all be as fashionable as you are," Hermione tossed back, annoyed. "I wear what's comfortable."

Padma just gave her a sarcastic smirk. "Being comfortable and fashion aren't always at odds, Hermione. If you'd just spend more than five minutes in a store, I'd think you'd find something that's cute and comfortable." She just shook her head when Hermione snickered in disbelief. She didn't care whether Hermione was willing or not, she was going to prove her point.

"Then what were you going to wear?" Lisa asked as the group stopped so Padma and Lisa could look at the display window of a jewelry shop. "A business suit?"

"Why should it matter?" Hermione answered as she impatiently shifted her weight from one foot to the other. "I'm not trying to impress anyone."

"So, then why do you wear the heels last weekend?" Lisa asked her sarcastically.

When Hermione just shrugged, Padma grinned. "That's because she was trying to impress a certain someone, whom she won't admit to liking but is completely bonkers about.

As Lisa laughed, Hermione groaned.

"Ah, so that's why," Lisa said with a laugh. "So, Padma, will you tell me what happened last weekend? Because, this one," Lisa said motioning to Hermione, "won't say a word, other than it was a nice evening."

Padma snickered, and glanced at her friend. "You didn't tell her?" she teased as the group started walking again.

"Tell me what?" Lisa asked excitedly, knowing whatever the gossip was, it had to be good.

Pausing for a moment at a street corner, Padma snickered to herself. "That our prim and proper, Librarian, had a little too much wine and made a pass at Harry."

"I didn't make a pass at Harry," Hermione whined, trying to defend herself.

Padma waved it off as they crossed the street. Lisa had to bite her lip to keep from laughing out loud.

"Did it work?" Lisa asked sarcastically.

"Well, judging from the stupid grin he had plastered on his face the rest of the night, I'd think so," Padma answered, and the two girls broke down in to a fit of giggles.

Hermione rolled her eyes at her two friends. "We talked, that's it."

"I'm sure you talked, Lisa teased. "I don't get it. Ignore the fact that he's Harry Potter, Savior of the Wizarding World. He's sweet, charming when he wants to be, funny at times, and would do anything for you. You seem to find him somewhat attractive," she rationalized, adding a little sarcasm at the end. "So, why aren't you married already? The two of you should be having a gaggle of children who are way too smart, and have a saving people complex."

Trust a Ravenclaw to break everything down to facts and figures. "It's a lot more complicated than that. I… I just don't feel… that spark," she said as they entered a department store.

Padma and Lisa looked at each other, both knowing that Hermione had lied through her teeth. They both knew that Hermione was very attracted to Harry, and they believed vice versa.

"So, then you feel that spark with Krum, eh?" Lisa asked as they followed Hermione in to the store. Finding a new dress for her upcoming dinner date with Krum was one of the reasons why they had dragged Hermione out in the first place.

"That's something I don't get," Padma said as they browsed. "Isn't it kind of like talking to a wall? I mean I could understand it back in Hogwarts, but now… what do you see in him?"

"Well, I wouldn't mind a little fling. The man is built like a golem," Lisa quickly added.

"There's more to him than you know," Hermione said, and paused in front of a mannequin displaying lingerie. How is that even comfortable?

"I thought it was just dinner?" Lisa whispered in to her ear, cause Hermione to jump in surprise and flush slightly.

"It is," Hermione said, quickly walking away.

"So, if you don't fancy Harry, than you wouldn't mind him going out with someone else," Padma said, and smirked a little when she saw Hermione lips twitch.

"Wouldn't mind at all," she answered them. "Any witch would be lucky to be with Harry."

"Good, good. Cause Parvati told me that he's been seen quite a bit with Susan the past few days. In fact, I think the Prophet had a photo of them the other day." Padma noticed how Hermione's how body grew stiff, and her lips were a thin line, they were pressed so hard together. She had struck the nerve she was looking for.

"Susan's nice," Hermione said, but her voice sounded a little strained.

Padma and Lisa glanced at each other, nodding slightly to each other, knowing Hermione was at least a bit jealous.

Hopefully, she doesn't keep it all bottled up this time, and acts on it. I like Susan, but I'd rather see Hermione with Harry, Padma thought as they continued their way through the department store.

"Why is it every time I do something with a bloke, everyone thinks there's some more going on. I'm friends with Harry and Victor. Nothing is happening," Hermione rationalized. "Are you saying that a man and woman can't be just friends?

"What about you and Anthony?" Hermione asked Lisa. "You have lunch with him at least once a week."

"First, nothing romantic really happens over a cold sandwich," Lisa answered. "Second, in case you've forgotten, Anthony isn't all that in to girls anymore."

As Padma and Lisa started giggling, Hermione jammed her hands in to the pockets of her pants as she muttered to herself. Entering the lift to go the stores next floor, Hermione leaned back against one of the walls, losing herself in her thoughts.

Susan Bones? They've been working together for the past few years, and there's never been any sign of attraction. So what's changed? Sure, she's pretty, intelligent, and an accomplished witch. Rumor even as it that she's on track to one day take her aunt's seat in the Wizengamot.

Harry's never said a word. While he can be impulsive fool at times, it's not like him to rush in to things.

As the lift doors opened, Hermione automatically followed her friends out, still lost in her thoughts. Looking at a mannequin, this time modeling a red evening dress, Hermione's mind wondered. Her imagination gave her an image of her in that red dress, with Harry fawning over her. What's she got that I don't? she suddenly found herself asking.

Oh, bloody hell, I can't possible be interested in Harry. Can I?

Harry tried to follow the flashing footsteps on the floor as he moved with Susan while the music played. The footsteps had been a spell Susan had come up with to help Harry learn where to step.

For a few weeks now, Susan and Harry had been meeting after work to practice. Susan had arranged the use of one of the Auror training rooms for their sessions. While Harry had picked up the basics rather quickly, he was struggling to pickup the more complicated moves. Susan had hoped the charm would help Harry, and she only intended to use them for a session or two. But with Harry's struggles, she decided to keep using them.

"Up, Harry," she chided. "You keep your eyes on your partner, or- ow!" she yelled, and dropped his hands as she limped away a few inches. Swearing under her breath, Harry had stepped on her toes again. Even having given up on wearing heels for a bit more protection of a shoe, it still hurt when Harry stomped on her.

Shaking her foot, Susan watched Harry grip his hair and growl in frustration. Like a caged animal ready to strike.

"What is with this stupid dance?"

"Why don't we call it a night?"

"But there's only a week until her birthday."

Susan rolled her eyes as she started getting the feeling back in her toes. "It's still enough time. Besides, you're not going to pick it up any easier with you all pissed off."

"Well, you can quit, but I'm going to keep practicing."

"Knock yourself out," Susan said, and then began gathering her things. As she did, she kept an eye on Harry. He's so obsessed with getting it down perfectly, that's he's getting frustrated when he doesn't move like someone who's been dancing this for a lifetime. That's it!

Discarding her belongings in a pile against the wall, Susan waved her wand and cancelled the footsteps charm.

"Hey!" Harry snapped, whirling around to face her.

"Listen," Susan launched back, and with another wave, a record player turned on and music began playing. "Stop trying to be perfect, and just listen to the music." Standing before him, she placed his hand on her hip and took his other hand in her free hand. "Ready, go."

A few hours later, her feet throbbing, Susan slowly made her way from the Ministry telephone booth entrance. It's not pretty, but at least its an improvement.

Hermione is one lucky witch. I wish I had someone that obsessed with making me happy.

As she crossed the street, heading towards a secluded park from which she could Apparate to her home, she spotted Hermione walking away from her and up the street.

Speak of the witch. I wonder who tall, dark, and mysterious is?

Quickening her pace, Susan headed towards them. "Hermione," she called out. At the sound of her name, Susan watched the pair pause and Hermione glance back at her. When Hermione saw who had called her, Susan could've sworn that she had a look to kill, but was quickly gone by the time she reached the pair.

"Susan," Hermione greeted coolly.

Although puzzled by the greeting, Susan chose to pay it of no mind. Turning to Hermione's partner, she went to introduce herself but then stopped as she recognized who it was. "Victor Krum," she said softly, almost in amazement.

"Victor, this is Susan Bones," Hermione said, trying to be civil. The little siren who's seeing my Harry.

"Hello," Victor said simply.

Shaking the cobwebs from her head, Susan turned her attention back to Hermione. "I didn't mean to interrupt your night out. I just happened to see you as I was crossing."

"Thought you'd be out with Harry," Hermione said a little more catty than she wished.

"Just left him," Susan answered, either not noticing or caring too much.

"Date didn't go well?"

Susan looked at her confused for a moment. "Date? Oh, you mean that rubbish The Prophet is printing. I'd think you of all people would realize what they print is five percent fact, rest rubbish. No, I'm not seeing Harry; I don't need the headache. We've been practicing together for the past couple of weeks, thought you'd like an update."

"Update?" Hermione asked puzzled.

"Yea. Don't worry, as long as he doesn't think too much, Harry won't embarrass you too badly. Though, I might wear steel toed boots."

"I don't understand," Hermione said. "Why would Harry embarrass me?"

"Your birthday present," Susan said, assuming Hermione knew all about the little trip Harry had planned. "For when you go to Paris. I've been trying to help him learn how to dance. Hopefully, something stuck in the rock head of his. Well, I better get going. Nice to meet you, Victor. Have a nice evening."

"Yea… uh, bye," Hermione mumbled as Susan headed back towards the park. Paris? Dancing? What the devil is she going on about? Birthday present?

Victor watched her curiously, as she just stood there, lost in her own thoughts. "Hermy-own-ninny?"

"Yes?" she said, quickly coming back to the present.

"You vere thinking about Harry," he told her matter of factly. A few years ago, he would've been jealous, but not so anymore. After never finding the right timing, Victor had reluctantly let go of any idea of a romantic relationship with the brunette. Instead, he now enjoyed a welcome friendship with one of the few who saw him as more than he appeared.

"Harry?" she practically squeaked.

Letting a small smile cross his face, he nodded. Back during the tournament, he had seen Harry as nothing but a pest and fraud. But after the tournaments fateful conclusion, and maybe even a bit before it, he began to respect the young boy. Now, he really did enjoy the friendly rivalry the pair seemed to have. Which was another reason why he wanted play Quidditch in England. The chance to face off with Harry was a challenge he was looking forward to.

"You like him, I can tell," Victor told her. "It is how you talk of him, and act around him. More now than before. You two share a bond, and he makes you happy."

As the pair started walking again, Hermione found her thoughts racing again.

"Vhat if I asked you to come to my room tonight, vould you say yes?" Victor said, knowing Hermione was fighting herself. He just couldn't understand why she was so reluctant.

Seeing her hem and pause, Victor gave her a crooked smile. "No you vould not, because I am not him."

Hermione sighed softly. When did this get so complicated.

On a clear, beautiful Saturday afternoon, Harry sat in the backyard of his small cottage working on the infamous flying motorcycle that Sirus had left him those years ago. After having lived in a flat in London for a few years, Harry had bought a small cottage home in the village of Upper Flagley, in northern England. The place reminded him a lot of how he had pictured his old home in Godric's Hallow.

It was also a place where he could blend in somewhat, as the village was small, and held a mix of both Muggle and Wizarding families. Plus, he really loved how there was so much unspoiled country side, that it left him feeling like he wasn't all bottled up.

As he worked on the motorbike, he smirked to himself as he heard a loud pop and then a very unlady like growl of annoyance announce the arrival of his best friend. Even if they had come in quietly, he didn't have to be too worried. Being constantly vigilant, there were many protective wards on his home, and only allowed a select few in. Of course, Hermione had been keyed in to them all, giving her free reign to come and go.

"Afternoon, Hermione," Harry said as he tightened a bolt on the motorbike's engine, snickering a little at her entrance.

"We need to talk," Hermione muttered.

"Alright, about what?" he asked curiously. He could tell by her tone that she wasn't exactly angry, but something was itching at her.

"Us," Hermione said, and then put her hands on her hips and glared at the back of his head. "Damnit, Harry. Turn around," she snapped.

Glancing over his shoulder, he studied her for a moment. Great, she's swearing. Or at least as close as she gets. This can't be good. Putting the wrench down and whipping his greasy hands on a rag, slowly stood up and faced her.

"Ok. You have my undivided attention. So what's got you all worked up?" he asked as he slowly unfolded his legs and stood up.

Before realizing it, Hermione had closed the distance between them and was standing almost toe to toe. "What gives you the right to spend so much on me?"

"Uh?"

"I know about my birthday, Paris, dancing," Hermione told him. "Susan, she thought I knew. Of course, being your best friend, and it being imy/i birthday, she naturally thought you had run your little plan by me first," she said sarcastically.

"So, it's wrong that I wanted to do something special for your birthday? I got the idea from you. Going on and on about that place in Paris, and how you haven't been since the war. I don't know, I thought it might be something you'd like."

"It's too much. Do you know how much something like that costs?"

Harry snickered. "Yea, I kind of do. But what's the point of having money if I can't spend it on something worth while."

"Yea, well, it's too much?"

"Why? You deserve something special. Besides, it's your 30th birthday. One of those things that usually only happens once."

"But… But, this isn't something you typical do for a friend," Hermione sputtered. The little bit of anger she had used to fuel her little rant before, had dissipated, and now she was lost and grasping. "I mean, I got you a book for your birthday," she said, lamely. Thinking back on it, she cringed. He was paying for a weekend trip to Paris, and she had gotten him a book.

"I liked the book," he told her, and when she gave him a doubtful look he chuckled. "I did. Besides, not just anyone can get me to read, and for fun no less.

"Look, I'll tell you the truth. The Paris trip isn't just because you're my friend. Lately, something's been-"

"Different?" Hermione said, finishing his sentence They shared an awkward smile.

"Yea. Well… I like that different feeling. Maybe, somewhat stupidly, I wanted to spend some time alone together. I guess Paris was a bit over a tip," he told her, and finished by rubbing the back of his neck, a bit embarrassed.

But as he watched her, he was pleasantly surprised. For a brief moment, he caught a glimpse of the young Hermione. There was a small, shy smile on her face, and he recognized the look in her eyes. Having seen it on her face as she gazed at blokes like Victor and Ron. Except, this time she is looking at him.

"Maybe. But, when have we ever done anything normally," she finally said. "Also, you've obviously put so much time and effort in to the trip, that it'd be a shame not to go."

"Are you saying…" Harry said awkwardly.

Hermione playfully snickered, and rolled her eyes. An expression that only Harry seemed to get out of her. "I'm saying that I wouldn't mind spending time with you. Either in Paris, or here."

Unsure of what to say next, as he normally did, Harry listened to his instincts. Those instincts told him to kiss her. So, gently cupping her cheek, and leaning forward and slightly downward, he kissed her lightly.

Afterwards, with his hand still against her cheek, the pair looked at each other.

"Not awkward at all," Harry said softly.

"Not all," Hermione seconded.

"I just realized something," he told her, grinning even wider. "You've never had a normal first date."

"I have too," she shot back.

"The Yule Ball with Victor, the post-war celebrations with Ron, and the New Year's Gala with that git, what's his name."

Hermione giggled and shook her head at him. "You know his name was Jonathan." As Harry shrugged, as if to say so what, she decided to turn the tables a little. "So, then why don't you change that," she challenged. "There's still a week before my birthday, and I'm free this weekend."

For a moment, Harry tried to think of something. Then, glancing at the motorbike, he got an idea. "Wait here," he told her, and then headed off towards a small shed a few yards away.

Waiting, she watched him walk back towards her, carrying a leather jacket and two helmets. "What are you… No! No way am I getting on that death trap," she said, pointing at the motorbike.

"You have to get over your fear of flying sometime," he said while putting the helmets down. Walking behind her, he held out the jacket for her. "You know you want to," he teased.

Reluctantly, Hermione slid her arms through the jacket sleeves. As she zippered it up, Harry retrieved one of the helmets for her. Standing next to the bike, she watched Harry slip on his own jacket, and as she did, she felt something stir inside her. She may have hated flying, but Harry in a leather jacket might be worth it.

Climbing on to the bike, he kicked up the kick stand and balanced the bike. Flashing her a disarming smile, he motioned for her to get on the back. Nervously, Hermione climbed on the back, and pressed herself tightly against Harry's back.

When Hermione tightly wrapped her arms around his middle, he felt a building excitement. This is going to be fun. Bringing the bike to life, he smirked as Hermione's grip tightened. "Ready?"

"No!"

With a laugh, Harry gunned the engine and began circling the cottage to help him get a feel for the added weight and new balance. Finally, Harry took the bike out on to the road. As they drove along the street through the village of Upper Flagley, Hermione had buried her face against Harry's neck.

Her breath was tickling the hairs on the back of his neck, and it was driving him crazy. It was also making him more bolder. "Hang on," he warned her as they headed towards the outskirts of the village.

"You're going to pay, Potter," Hermione yelled at him over the roar of the engine as Harry increased their speed.

"Trust me?" Harry yelled over his shoulder, an impish grin on his face.

"Yes!" Just as she answered, she suddenly felt the bike jerk upwards and they were airborne. Although she was scared, being with Harry made her feel at least somewhat safe. Safe enough to enjoy the exhilarating feeling of being so high up, and having such an amazing view of everything.

"It's like we're the only ones around for miles," she found herself saying aloud.

Harry nodded in agreement. "That's what I like about it. You can come up here, and just be alone with your thoughts. Or, share something special with someone."

Hermione felt herself blush a little, and grinned too as Harry looked away embarrassed at his little proclamation. "Where to?" she asked as they began to level off.

He just shrugged. "Where ever the currents take us."

Sliding further forward, as far as she could be pressed up against him safely, she smiled a little. "I'd like that. Let's see where they take us." With that, Harry turned the bike slightly, and took off for a wooded area off on the horizon. Us, together. Hermione and Harry. Wherever the currents may take us on our next adventure.