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Anything for Love

By: Coriander
folder Harry Potter › General
Rating: Adult +
Chapters: 34
Views: 13,517
Reviews: 51
Recommended: 0
Currently Reading: 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
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Chapter 7

Chapter 7

When I apparated into the living
room of Harry’s flat I noticed that it was dark, lit only by one candle sitting
next to a vase on the piano in the corner. I walked over to the candle and smelled
the beautiful rose in the vase. I smiled, I couldn’t help it. As I inhaled the
heady aroma of the rose, I noticed a note underneath the vase. I immediately
recognized Harry’s untidy scrawl.

Follow the petals.

What? Petals? I looked down and saw
a trail of rose petals going from where I was standing, across the living room
and up ttairtairs. The smile on my face would not fade. I don’t think I would
have been able to suppress that smile, if I tried.

My mind was flooded with all the
possible scenarios that Harry might have concocted. I started to follow the
trail and my heart beat faster with every step. Would Harry be up there waiting
for me? I started to walk faster as I reached the stairs. The smell of roses
was growing stronger as I ascended. What did Harry do? I take the stairs two at
a time, my heart pounding out of my chest.

Where I thought the trail would go
left at the top of the stairs toward Harry’s room, it went right. There was
nothing down at this end of the hall. Was there? The petals turned into the
second door and my heart was up in my throat. This was my room when we all
stayed here with the Order. Again, I ask myself, what did Harry do?

I slowly open the door, not
knowing what to expect and am overwhelmed when I take in the vision before me.
The walls were no longer the dingy gray they were all those years ago, but a
warm cream color with gold accents. The large four-poster bed was adorned with
ivory sheer curtains and homey gold and cream quilt. On top of the large
dresser is a beautiful vase filled with more roses. I can’t tell how many there
are, my heart is beating so hard in my chest that I can’t concentrate enough to
count them.

I look closer at the flowers and
see that there is another note on the dresser. I open the envelope and see
Harry’s distinctive handwriting again.

Mione –

I hope you like your room, if
you want it. It is yours whether it is only when you need a place to get away,
or if you want to stay here with me everyday. We can discuss that later.

I will pick you up at six
o’clock for dinner. Please, meet me downstairs.

I will see you this evening.

Love, Harry

P.S. – There is a surprise in
the closet. When I saw it, I knew you would look beautiful in it. Please wear
it tonight.

I put the parchment down and opened
the closet door. If I thought I couldn’t think before, I was clearly brainless
at this moment. In the closet was hanging the most beautiful dress I had ever
seen. I took it out and laid it on the bed. The crimson fabric was smooth and
soft. Silk. It flowed over itself in shimmering waves. It was long, almost
ankle-length, with spaghetti straps. I checked the size. Why did I even bother?
Of course, Harry got the right size. Ron never knew what size I wore. I shake
my head, amazed at the little things that Harry knows and remembers.

I sit on the bed and sink into the
soft mattress with the dress lying over my lap. Tears are prickling at the back
of my eyes. Why? I am not sad, not by a long shot. I am overwhelmed with love
for my best friend. I never knew he felt this way toward me. I never expected
him to spoil me from the start. That’s what he does when he loves someone. He
spoils them; not only in material gifts, but also in affection and joy.

My tears are fallfreefreely. I
have never felt so loved, so worshipped. Ron had given me things before, but
never as exquisite as this, nor with such presentation. I can’t believe Harry
did this, not only the dress, but also the room. He gave me a room. My room. I
hugged the dress to my chest trying to contain the sobs of my crying. I have
never cried out of happiness like this. My heart is overflowing just as my
tears are.

I find myself lying on the bed
still hugging the dress. I am not sure how much time has passed. I must have
fallen asleep. I look over at the nightstand at the clock. 5:30. I have a half
hour to get ready. Good thing I’m a witch, huh?

I pull the small box from my old
house out of my pocket and enlarge it. I pull out my toiletries and start to
make myself beautiful. I undress and cast a quick cleansing charm, seeing as I
already had a bath this morning. I rifle through my trunk for some
undergarments. I have nothing that would do for an occasion like this.

I realize that with this dress, I
have to go braless, which can be hard sometimes when you are as endowed as
myself. I am not overly large, but I am above average in the breast department.
A naughty thought comes to mind and I look at myself in the mirror. I admire
the subtle curves that I was blessed with. I am not petite, not after two kids.
I am proportionate. My hips are wide, but not too wide. I laugh at what I am
about to do. I slip the dress over my body. That’s right, no knickers. I know,
it probably says that I am expecting something to happen tonight. Well, I am.

I want to shock him. Knock his
socks off. The silk glides over my body and I shiver in anticipation. I check
my reflection again. My hair is as good as the bushy tangle will get. I pulled
it up off my neck and piled the mass of curls on top with a few tendrils
framing my face. A little bit of eyeshadow, subtle; mascara, light; lipstick,
barely there. I looked good. The dress made the lohoughough. Harry has
wonderful taste, and he was right, it did look beautiful on me. It was slinky
enough to hug my curves, but light enough that it didn’t over-accentuate them.
I twirled around and watched as the fabric flowed around my legs. I have never
been one to be very confident in myself, but looking in the mirror and seeing
myself happy and glowing, I knew I looked good. If Harry’s eyes don’t pop out
of his head, I would be totally surprised.

*

When I returned from my quick trip
to Daigon Alley, Hermione had not returned yet. I knew I had to work fast. I
separated the roses and put one in the vase on the piano and took the rest up
to my room upstairs. My room. No, I need to open up her room. I have kept her
room up for the past few years. She has never seen it. It’s time she does.

I turn around and go down the hall
to her room. She and Ginny used to stay in here during the summers and this was
her room during those two years of fighting along side of the Order. After the
war was over and she married Ron I had let the room fall into disarray. I
didn’t want to be reminded that she once slept in that bed. Later when she and
Ron had started fighting and she would come stay with me, I fixed it up so she
would have a place to sleep. After the first few times she slept in my bed, I
realized I didn’t want her to sleep anywhere else. I wanted to smell her scent
on my pillow. I wanted to know that she hleptlept in my bed, even though I
slept on the couch.

I placed 19 roses in the large
vase on the dresser. 19 roses, one for each year we have been friends. There
are 7 yellow, 10 pink and 2 red; each color signifying a different time in our
lives. The yellow are for our years at Hogwarts, the pink for the time she was
married to Ron and could not be mine, and the red for the two years in between
when we were fighting Voldemort; the time I wished I had told her how much I
loved her.

I summoned the bag from Galdrags
from downstairs. I pulled the red dress out and hung it in the closet. I could
just picture her in this dress, dancing with me, kissing me, the dress falling
into a puddle on the floor. No, I can’t think about that, not yet. I let my
fingers linger on the silk for a few moments, imagining the feel of her
underneath the fabric, my hands running over the delicate lines of the dress. I
shake my head trying to recover. I didn’t have time for this. She could be back
any moment.

I pull some parchment from the bureau
drawer and write a quick note telling her when I would pick her up for dinner
this evening. I pulled anther piece out to write a small to instruct her to
come up to this room. How do I say this? Go to your old room. No. I wanted it
to be a surprise, something special. I look around the room for any kind of
inspiration and the roses catch my eye. That’s it. I scribble three words on
the paper and put it in my pocket. With a flick of my wand I have duplicated
the petals of the roses and they are sitting haphazardly over my lap and around
me on the floor.

Wingardium Leviosa. The petals all are floating about knee high and I
suddenly laugh. That was the first charm we ever learned. Hermione would
appreciate that I remember this particular one. I start to walk down the hall,
letting the petals fall along the way. I go down the stairs, across the living
over to the piano. Many of the petals have pooled at my feet as I release the
charm. I place the note underneath the vase and look around the room. Something’s
missing. This is good, but I want it romantic. I want it beautiful. I conjure a dle dle and set it on top of the piano, beside the vase. Enflamare. Perfect. I quickly run back upstairs to collect my
things for this evening and disapparate to my office at the Ministry. I want
her to feel like this is a real date. I want to pick her up. Woo her. I hope
this works.

After a while of catching up on
some paperwork, I can’t concentrate anymore. I can’t get the picture of
Hermione out of my mind. I look at the clock. I have just over thirty minutes
before I need to be back at my flat. I change into my black slacks and gray
shirt. I debate over a tie. I am taking her into Muggle London tonight. Maybe I
will wear a tie for dinner but not afterwards.

After I run a comb half-heartedly
through my hair, not like it helps, I start to feel the flapping of Hippogriffs
in my gut. I am so nervous. I feel like I’m fourteen again, trying to get the
nerve up to ask Cho to the Yule Ball. But this isn’t Cho. This is Hermione, my
best friend; the woman I am madly in love with. Why am I so nervous? My mind
fights with me as I apparate back to my flat. The candle is still burning on
the piano and I can hear some rustling in the hall above me. I move over to the
piano and bring the rose in the vase to my nose. I inhale the heady aroma and
lose myself for a moment in the smell.

My thoughts are interrupted as I
hear footsteps descending the stairs. I look over and what I see takes my
breath away. Hermione is standing on the bottom step looking nervously at me.
She looks almost as nervous as I feel. She is beautiful. The d fit fits her
perfectly and I have never seen her look so breathtaking. She smiles at me and
my heart threatens to beat out of my chest. She starts to step down and come
toward me. My mind decides to come back from its temporary vacation and I meet
her just as she steps off of the stair. I extend my hand and she takes it.
Sparks ignite in my fingers at her touch and my blood flows hotter with every
heartbeat.

“Milady,” I whisper and bow my
head slightly.

She giggles and es mes my cheek
causing my face to heat up. I know I am blushing and I turn to hide from her
eyes. Why am I ac lik like a shy teenager? I am thirty years old. This is not a
blind date. This is my best friend. She knows me and loves me for me. I turn
back to her and smile before raising a hand to her cheek.

“You look beautiful, Mione,” I say
just before covering her lips in a chaste kiss.

Now she is blushing. I feel a
little better now. “Thank you, y. Fy. For all of it.”

I smile again. I can’t help it.
“If you like all of that, just wait until you see what I have planned for you
this evening.” I waggle my eyebrows suggestively, making even myself wonder
what exactly I have planned for this evening. Her eyes sparkle brightly as she
squeezes my hand. I hadn’t even noticed that we were still holding hands. I
realize suddenly that we have been standing here staring at each other for well
over five minutes, and are very close to being late for our reservation.

“Shall we?” I can’t help but look
in her eyes and see that my anticipation is mirrored in them. She is still very
quiet and it is very disconcerting. “Hermione?”

She shakes her head slightly. “Oh,
sorry Harry.”

“Are you all right, love?”

“Yes, Harry. I am fine. I-I just…
you look wonderful Harry.” She is blushing again and I can hear that her
breathing is erratic, labored somewhat. I take her face gently in my hands and
lean forward slightly, dipping my head. I want to kiss her, to taste her, but am
hesitant. I want this date to last longer than ten minutes and if I kiss her, I
don’t know if I would be able to handle it, or my.
.

I am brought out of my thoughts as
she leaned up and pressed her lips to mine. Very quickly the kiss deepens and I
pull her closer to me. My skin is tingling. My heart is racing and I never want
to let her go. Somewhere in the back of my mind, an alarm is going off. Not a
bad alarm, but more like an alarm clock. Damn, we’re going to be late. I
reluctantly pull away from her and chuckle at the sound of disappointment that
escapes her lips.

“I have no problem, staying here
and kissing you all night, but I have a wonderful evening planned. If we don’t
leave now, we will lose our table.”


“I’m sorry Harry,” she says
sheepishly and looks down at her feet. I follow her gaze and notice that her
shoes are nothing more than a few straps on heels. Her toenails are painted the
same color as the dress. I smile brightly, collect myself and bring a finger
under her chin for her to look at me.

“Don’t ever apologize for kissing
me. I just don’t think that Searcy’s would like us to be late for our
reservation.”

“Searcy’s? Oh, Harry, that’s my
favorite!” Her eyes were sparkling
excitedly and the smile on her face was beautiful.

I kissed her lightly on the lips
again and whispered, “I know.” In the blink of an eye, I grasped her hand
tightly and apparated us both to an alley close to the restaurant. The look on
her face shows me just how special this night is going to be.

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