Silence loomed in the semi-dark common room. There were only two occupants at the moment, one of them Harry Potter. He was extremely weary but Hermione told him if he didn’t finish their History of Magic essay on — something he couldn’t even remember! — She’d curse him. His face fell into his hands. ‘Too tired’ was his only thought. Heaving himself up unto the couch behind him he saw Hermione was curled into a fetal position on the other, her back facing him.
He grinned. Did she honestly expect him to finish when she was asleep herself? Then suddenly Harry’s face contorted as Hermione mumbled something almost inaudible. “Harry…” His heart stopped. What? She was dreaming about him? There was a twinge of emotion in the pit of his stomach. He could recognize what it was. “Don’t frost the pie…” The astonishment was gone, replaced by utter confusion. Pie? … Huh? …
Hermione moaned and turned around. Her hair fell untidily across her face and Harry couldn’t help noticing how pretty she looked like that, her face half hidden in soft, brown curls. He sighed contently and laid down, his eyes still focused on her face.
It wasn’t as if he hadn’t noticed she was pretty before. Or that she was girl. He’d always, unconsciously, known she was a gorgeous girl. Not that I’m attracted to her! He added hastily to his thoughts. Mostly it wasn’t about her looks. It was more of her bravery and intelligence… her loyalty and passion. Er… compassion and passion for learning, I mean… though sometimes I do wish she’d have passion for… wait… no! This is Hermione! Why am I thinking of that? She’s my friend. I don’t have feelings for her! At least… I shouldn’t be… right? Right??
He watched her sleep; his head spinning with emotions, until she abruptly gave a heavy sigh and opened her eyes. She smiled sweetly as soon as she noticed he was looking at her. “Hi,” she softly greeted. Harry didn’t know if she noticed he had been staring at her.
“Hey,” he whispered back. He smiled along with her. He didn’t know what made him do it but he blurted out, “You talk in your sleep…”
“Do I?” she said, slightly embarrassed, but overall nonchalantly as if Harry just told her she had received a hundred percent on their last test. “What did I say?”
“Don’t frost the pie,” he replied, deciding to leave out the fact she said his name. Perhaps he just imagined it…
Hermione giggled, “Actually it was pumpkin pie.” Then she pulled back her hair and with a final sigh turned abruptly stern. “Did you finish your essay?”
“Just a couple more line left,” he replied. She stared into his eyes, her own honey brown looking blurry and full of affection. He gulped, wondering if she knew he was looking at every motion she made.
“Harry, can I tell you something?” She had put the look of concern Harry often saw when he was injured or any time she was worried… about him. He smiled as so to tell her she could. “Harry, I—”
Just then Ron came down the stairway, in his pajamas, and exasperatedly asked them, “Have you two just been lying there making dreamy eyes at each other?”
Both Harry and Hermione blushed furiously and denied any of it.
“Ron! Don’t be a prat!”
“Ronald Weasley, we were doing no such thing!”
He didn’t believe them at all. “Uh-huh. Then why are you two looking flushed?” He was answered with silence. “You two are either so thick because you’re both in denial or that you’re just hiding it from me; or yourselves even. I reckon it’s the latter. Or perhaps both.” He shook his head disapprovingly and quietly went back upstairs, hiding a triumphant grin from his two best friends, leaving them gapping at his back.
“Okay… did he just turn that around on us?” Harry asked in disbelief.
“I… I don’t know…” Hermione frowned. Not absorbing what Ron just said.
They turned away from each other in awkward silence. Minutes passed by and the stillness was broken by both of them…”
“No, you go first…”
“Harry, please. Don’t be courteous for once. It’s just me, your friend, Hermione Granger.”
“Yeah…” He paused. Friend. It didn’t seem to be enough. He took a deep breath, “Well… here it goes. I don’t know why I never took time to tell you but, you’re a beautiful girl. The most beautiful person I know. I haven’t ever told you how much I’ve appreciated everything you are to me.”
“Oh Harry…” her face burned as she reddened. “Well… I… In my dream. I don’t know what to say but well… my dream wasn’t just about pumpkin pie… there was also you…”
TWELVE YEARS LATER
“But whhhhy?” twenty-eight year old Harry Potter pretended to whine at his wife.
“Stop it. And I swear if you bring up that dream I had about you again—!” Hermione said, waving a knife threateningly at him. Harry flinched but a mischievous grin stayed on his face. “You can’t have any of the pie! It’s for Ginny and her boyfriend—”
“Oh, I wasn’t thinking of your dream. I was thinking of my pumpkin pie dream…” his voice carried a juvenile tone in the words ‘my pumpkin pie dream’ and she knew that he was thinking of something naughty. “Besides, I make better pie than you anyway.” Hermione gave a mock indignant look and slapped his arm. “Ow! Hey! That actually hurt!”
“You deserved it,” she told him sternly. She put down her knife and shook her head. Harry lean in, wrapping his arms around her waist, and started to whisper his dream. She melted unto him and their lips met. He led her out of the kitchen.
A gasp was heard from the living room and Hermione shouted, “Oh wait! The pie!” Running back and putting the pie into the oven. Harry grinned and turned. He was very glad, one, that Ron and Sirius had taken their daughter Elizabeth and, two, Hermione would be coming to join him very soon.