Ficlet: Flannel Shirts and Waiting
Here is a very random ficlet I wrote. The plot bunny entered my head while thrift store shopping, and wouldn't go away.
Summary: AU-ish. Ron/Hermione married but Harry --> Hermione so he never married Ginny. Harry lets his feelings show at an unexpected moment.
Pairing: Ron/Hermione, Harry/Hermione
Rating: PG
Flannel Shirts and Waiting
Harry didn't need to buy his clothes at second-hand shops, but he did anyway. Hermione lectured him about the environment (she had a mean anti-consumerist streak), and about the many ways he could use his money to make the world a better place.
So, he bought used clothes, and donated much of his considerable wealth to charity. If this resulted in him looking like a hobo most days, well, at least his clothes were comfortable. And more importantly, at least Hermione was happy. He had even set up a scholarship for Hogwarts students that could not afford their supplies, and another for promising young quidditch players.
So it was that Harry found himself in The Second-hand Sorcerer, Hermione's favorite shop, on this rainy Saturday. It was a relatively new addition to Diagon Alley, and it specialized in muggle fashion.
“Mommy is trying on an 'Uncle Harry' shirt!” Rose cried, tugging on his pant leg.
“What do you mean, sweetie?” Harry asked.
“You know, a plannel one.”
Harry chuckled. “You mean a flannel one?”
“No Uncle Harry! It's plaid and flannel, so it's plannel.”
“Oh, I see. Well, I guess it is sort of my trademark look, but I'm sure Hermione will look very nice in it.”
As Rose ran off giggling, Harry stifled the image his mind had conjured of Hermione in one of his flannel shirts. He had to get ahold of himself, Hermione was coming out of the dressing room.
Harry smiled. She always looked beautiful to him, even though she dressed casually, and rarely wore make-up; she looked like a real person, rather than a barbie doll.
“Does this look okay, Harry? This is the most comfortable shirt I've ever put on! I can see why you like them so much, now.”
“It's about time you saw the light. And of course it looks good on you.” Harry winked.
Hermione blushed. She hesitated slightly before saying, “Oh, Harry. Stop it.”
But then she resumed the joke, “Where have these shirts been all my life?”
Harry looked at her as directly as he dared, and said “Waiting for you, I think.” He had meant for it to sound casual, a joking response to her question. But it had come out as a whisper, adding meaning he had intended to keep hidden.
Hermione held his gaze for what seemed like an eternity, the question plain as day in her eyes, and threatening to escape her lips. Harry lost his nerve and looked away.
“Wow, plaid shirts are romantic. More than any guy ever was, at least.” Hermione giggled nervously.
Harry found his light tone of voice again. The one that said “I'm just kidding around with you” instead of the one that said “Actually, I'm in love with you.”
“Well duh; I wear them.”
That earned him a playful slap. Except, it wasn't really very forceful. And her hand lingered a little longer than it should have. Harry closed his eyes, pretending to flinch, but really he was relishing the feel of her hand on his chest.
When he opened his eyes, Hermione was already collecting Hugo and Rose from the toy department, and heading up to the counter to pay. She was clutching the plaid shirt to her chest, and frowning.
***********
Harry wished he could say he was surprised. But he wasn't. He'd always had doubts about Ron and Hermione's marriage (even before he realized he was in love with Hermione). He couldn't even be surprised the the final straw was Ron's infidelity. Hermione claims Ron only cheated because he suspected her of the same, but the result was divorce either way. Hermione was devastated by Ron's lack of trust in her, and even more-so by his retaliatory actions. When Harry tried to press for more details, such as what lucky bloke was close enough to her to arouse suspicion, Hermione had clammed up. But and angry howler Harry received from Ron had cleared up quite a few details.
Harry knew exactly what Hermione needed: a friend. Especially given then nature of Ron's accusations. So, he would be a friend. For now. He apparated out of his flat straight to Diagon Alley, and walked the short distance to The Second-hand Sorcerer. He purchased an old mug, and a vintage quilt. He then walked - by way of The Leaky Cauldron - back into muggle London to find a grocery store. He bought cocoa, tomato soup, and cheese sandwiches. He then apparated to Hermione's “city” flat - the one she kept for late nights at the ministry - and knocked.
Hermione's face was red and puffy when she answered the door, and he dropped his packages as fast as he could and enveloped her in a hug. He closed his eyes, and breathed in the scent of her. He savored the feel of her slight frame in his arms. She pulled back slightly, and he opened his eyes.
Hermione was looking at him as if seeing him for the first time.
“I know you've been right there the whole time, Harry, but...where have you been all my life?”
“Waiting for you, I think.”
Summary: AU-ish. Ron/Hermione married but Harry --> Hermione so he never married Ginny. Harry lets his feelings show at an unexpected moment.
Pairing: Ron/Hermione, Harry/Hermione
Rating: PG
Flannel Shirts and Waiting
Harry didn't need to buy his clothes at second-hand shops, but he did anyway. Hermione lectured him about the environment (she had a mean anti-consumerist streak), and about the many ways he could use his money to make the world a better place.
So, he bought used clothes, and donated much of his considerable wealth to charity. If this resulted in him looking like a hobo most days, well, at least his clothes were comfortable. And more importantly, at least Hermione was happy. He had even set up a scholarship for Hogwarts students that could not afford their supplies, and another for promising young quidditch players.
So it was that Harry found himself in The Second-hand Sorcerer, Hermione's favorite shop, on this rainy Saturday. It was a relatively new addition to Diagon Alley, and it specialized in muggle fashion.
“Mommy is trying on an 'Uncle Harry' shirt!” Rose cried, tugging on his pant leg.
“What do you mean, sweetie?” Harry asked.
“You know, a plannel one.”
Harry chuckled. “You mean a flannel one?”
“No Uncle Harry! It's plaid and flannel, so it's plannel.”
“Oh, I see. Well, I guess it is sort of my trademark look, but I'm sure Hermione will look very nice in it.”
As Rose ran off giggling, Harry stifled the image his mind had conjured of Hermione in one of his flannel shirts. He had to get ahold of himself, Hermione was coming out of the dressing room.
Harry smiled. She always looked beautiful to him, even though she dressed casually, and rarely wore make-up; she looked like a real person, rather than a barbie doll.
“Does this look okay, Harry? This is the most comfortable shirt I've ever put on! I can see why you like them so much, now.”
“It's about time you saw the light. And of course it looks good on you.” Harry winked.
Hermione blushed. She hesitated slightly before saying, “Oh, Harry. Stop it.”
But then she resumed the joke, “Where have these shirts been all my life?”
Harry looked at her as directly as he dared, and said “Waiting for you, I think.” He had meant for it to sound casual, a joking response to her question. But it had come out as a whisper, adding meaning he had intended to keep hidden.
Hermione held his gaze for what seemed like an eternity, the question plain as day in her eyes, and threatening to escape her lips. Harry lost his nerve and looked away.
“Wow, plaid shirts are romantic. More than any guy ever was, at least.” Hermione giggled nervously.
Harry found his light tone of voice again. The one that said “I'm just kidding around with you” instead of the one that said “Actually, I'm in love with you.”
“Well duh; I wear them.”
That earned him a playful slap. Except, it wasn't really very forceful. And her hand lingered a little longer than it should have. Harry closed his eyes, pretending to flinch, but really he was relishing the feel of her hand on his chest.
When he opened his eyes, Hermione was already collecting Hugo and Rose from the toy department, and heading up to the counter to pay. She was clutching the plaid shirt to her chest, and frowning.
***********
Harry wished he could say he was surprised. But he wasn't. He'd always had doubts about Ron and Hermione's marriage (even before he realized he was in love with Hermione). He couldn't even be surprised the the final straw was Ron's infidelity. Hermione claims Ron only cheated because he suspected her of the same, but the result was divorce either way. Hermione was devastated by Ron's lack of trust in her, and even more-so by his retaliatory actions. When Harry tried to press for more details, such as what lucky bloke was close enough to her to arouse suspicion, Hermione had clammed up. But and angry howler Harry received from Ron had cleared up quite a few details.
Harry knew exactly what Hermione needed: a friend. Especially given then nature of Ron's accusations. So, he would be a friend. For now. He apparated out of his flat straight to Diagon Alley, and walked the short distance to The Second-hand Sorcerer. He purchased an old mug, and a vintage quilt. He then walked - by way of The Leaky Cauldron - back into muggle London to find a grocery store. He bought cocoa, tomato soup, and cheese sandwiches. He then apparated to Hermione's “city” flat - the one she kept for late nights at the ministry - and knocked.
Hermione's face was red and puffy when she answered the door, and he dropped his packages as fast as he could and enveloped her in a hug. He closed his eyes, and breathed in the scent of her. He savored the feel of her slight frame in his arms. She pulled back slightly, and he opened his eyes.
Hermione was looking at him as if seeing him for the first time.
“I know you've been right there the whole time, Harry, but...where have you been all my life?”
“Waiting for you, I think.”