“Happy Belated Birthday, Hermione.”
She frowned and glanced at the calendar before her heart clenched with tenderness. It was September 20th today.
Hermione has been seeing Harry Black for several months now, but every time they seem to be moving forward, he pulls away. She’s at her wit’s end until he invites her on an evening date on Halloween and she realizes that patience is sometimes better than a plan.
It was going to be a good day, even if he felt that he was going to throw up from anxiety or apparate away to avoid the shame of being left at the altar in front of a large portion of wizarding Britain.
She could be more of a Slytherin that he was most days, but he’d never considered his position as the Slytherin Prince was threatened.
They were getting married, so at least he’d save face.
“Stop staring at my husband,” she said. “He’s mine.”
“You…” Merlin blinked and wiped his face. He breathed in again, reigning the lightning back from blowing the woman over the balcony. Instead, he smiled, “I think you have something confused.”
“I have eyes,” she said. “With that hurt expression on your face.”
“Has he not told you the truth?”