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Harry urgently walked back into the living room of the Burrow and made his way to the loveseat where Hermione was reclining. He tugged on her sleeve and stooped down so that his lips were level with her ear. “I need to tell you something,” he muttered.
She turned to him with alarm. “What’s wrong?”
Harry looked towards Ron who was lounging on the armchair in the corner and watching them with a raised eyebrow.
“Need to tell you alone,” Harry said to Hermione under his breath.
“Okay,” she promptly replied, standing up.
“Oi! What’s going on?” Ron demanded.
Harry only stared intensely back at him in response.
“What?” Ron said uncomfortably.
“…You don’t want to know this,” Harry said.
“Why not?”
“It…involves people you know.”
“Yeah, that clears it up,” Ron snorted.
“Just…trust me on this.”
Ron rolled his eyes. “Is this another stupid couple thing between you two?”
“Not between…us,” Harry replied hesitantly.
“Can we get going?” Hermione broke in impatiently. She grabbed Harry by the arm, beginning her search for a more secluded area of the house.
“I’ll find out, you know!” they heard Ron call out to them.
Hermione did not let go of Harry’s arm until they found themselves in the Weasleys’ orchard. She quickly glanced around to make sure there was nobody in the general vicinity and after being certain they were the only ones there, turned to Harry with a frown. “Okay, so what’s wrong?”
“I…I…” Harry started.
“What?” she urged, looking as if she was prepared for the worst.
“I…overheard something I wasn’t supposed to.”
“Between who?”
Harry looked away uncomfortably. “…Ron’s mum and dad.”
“And?”
He did not respond.
“Harry, will you please just get to the point?” Hermione said. “If it’s something serious, we can figure—”
“He called her Mollywobbles!” burst Harry.
Hermione stared dumbly. “What?”
“I just happened to pass by their room and—and it sounded like they were getting into something and—he said something to her I don’t want to think about but after that, he called her…Mollywobbles,” he said the nickname again in a horrified tone. “And that’s not all. This wasn’t the first time I’ve heard it. The first time was four years ago when there were still loads of Death Eaters supposedly using Polyjuice and you were supposed to have these security questions. Must have repressed the memory…”
Hermione looked at him with what seemed suspiciously like pity before burying her face in her hands.
“What is it?” Harry asked.
Hermione let out a muffled scream before looking up at him in disbelief.
“What’s wrong?” he said.
“Oh, nothing,” Hermione said, now seeming rather annoyed. “I was just wondering how I ended up with a complete idiot for a boyfriend.”
“What?” Harry asked, startled.
Hermione gave him a light push. “I thought this was something serious! I was worried for a second!”
“This is serious!” Harry countered. “This is Ron’s parents! We’ve known them for years!”
“Well, I can at least see why you didn’t want to say anything to Ron,” Hermione mused.
“What are we going to do?”
“What are you talking about? We don’t need to do anything! It’s a private matter.”
“You don’t think it’s…disturbing?” Harry asked with surprise.
She rolled her eyes. “Obviously, I try not to think about bedroom happenings of my friend’s parents.”
“I don’t try to—”
Hermione shrugged. “They’re in love and they have pet names for each other. It’s typical couple behavior.”
She affectionately patted his cheeks and gave him a swift kiss on the lips. “Don’t think too hard about it,” she said. “Oh, and especially don’t think about it at dinner. They might stop inviting us to these gatherings if you let something slip.” She headed back to the house leaving Harry standing alone in the orchard, deep in thought.
Hermione’s words from minutes ago echoed in his mind. In love. Typical couple behavior. This was clearly a hint from her. This was one of those occasions he had heard about where he was supposed to read between the lines. She had called him an idiot as well. Probably confident he wouldn’t figure it out. Well, he would show her. He cringed inwardly at once again remembering “Mollywobbles” but perhaps Hermione was right. Perhaps nicknames like that were normal between loving couples. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad after all. Four years ago when he had first heard it, he had not been in a relationship, and now he was. It’s different now, he told himself. He took a deep breath and mentally prepared himself for dinner with the Weasleys.
Molly Weasley’s cooking was delicious as usual, but Harry hardly noticed. He was too focused looking for an opportunity. It finally came near the end of dinner when Hermione nudged his side and asked, “Can you pass the pudding?”
Harry stretched his arm for the plate. He gripped it a little too stiffly as he brought it to her and said, “Here you go…Hermybear.”
All conversation stopped and Harry felt his face heat up as ten pairs of eyes stared at him.
“What are you doing?” Hermione hissed in his ear. The pudding was entirely forgotten about.
“Only what you want me to,” Harry shot back in a murmur.
“What are you talking about?”
“Don’t worry. I got your message,” he said as quietly as he could although it did not prevent him from being heard by everyone at the table. He desperately wished everyone else would start talking about something—anything—again. The things he was putting himself through for her!
Ron broke the silence first. “So…”
Harry felt an intense wave of relief, feeling grateful that he had such a good friend to help him out in times of distress.
“How long has…Hermybear been a thing?” Ron continued with a snicker.
Harry silently vowed to find Ron alone after dinner and hex him. Why did he have to repeat it?! It seemed infinitely worse coming from someone else.
“Erm…just now,” he said. He attempted to nonchalantly scan the table as if their judgmental stares were not affecting him. “Why? Don’t like it?”
“Never say it again,” Ginny said. Murmurs of agreement rose from the others.
Harry frowned. He felt Hermione’s glare from beside him. Was it that bad? Well, what did she expect? It wasn’t as if he had previously showed any signs of talent in this department. And after all, it was only his first try.
“Okay, so what was that about?” Ron asked after Harry’s tickling charm (“I’ll give you something to laugh about!”) had worn off.
“Hermione wants me to come up with a pet nickname for her,” Harry explained.
“Did she actually tell you this?”
“No…but you know when you’re supposed to read between the lines or whatever? Guess what girls are thinking without them telling you?”
“Oh yeah, I hate when they do that.” Ron said. “Girls…mad, all of them, I say.” He paused. “So, what else you got so far?”
Harry shrugged. “Nothing. It’s hard enough to think of something I can say without wanting to die inside, let alone something that sounds good. You got a suggestion?”
Ron shrugged back. “I don’t know…something to do with books?”
“Great help,” Harry said sarcastically.
“Hey, this is your problem, not mine!” A thought seemed to come over Ron. “Hang on, is this what you needed to talk to her about earlier?”
“Erm…kind of.”
“What was it, exactly?” Ron asked curiously.
Harry stared blankly. “I’m telling you, you don’t want to know.”
The next morning at their apartment, Harry awaited in the kitchen with a ready breakfast—a plateful of pancakes and fresh fruit.
Hermione entered with a yawn. “Good morning,” she said. She kissed his cheek and looked around at the table of food with a smile. "Ooh, thanks for breakfast."
“No problem,” Harry said. “…Hermcake.”
Her head snapped back to look at his face. Her smile was gone. Uh-oh, he thought.
“What are you doing?” she said suspiciously.
“Look, I’ll get it sooner or later,” Harry said.
“Are you trying to annoy me?”
Harry winked. “I told you, I got the message.”
Hermione rolled her eyes. “Whatever. Let’s just eat.”
“Here’s the report,” Harry said as he handed Hermione a roll of parchment in her office that she shared with three other coworkers.
“Thanks,” she said taking it in her hand but not looking up from her own reading.
“See you at home…Hermi-muffin.”
He saw her freeze up for a second before slowly lifting her head with a horrified expression. Harry felt the stares of the three other witches in the room but he did not feel as embarrassed as he had the evening at the Burrow. It seemed he was getting more used to this. He gave Hermione a reassuring smile. She looked shocked at how much progress he seemed to have made.
“Hello, Herme-o,” Harry said, chuckling at the rhyme as he approached Hermione from behind as she stood in line for lunch the next day.
“I’m going to pretend I don’t know you,” she muttered, keeping her back to him.
“Everyone already knows about us, Big H.”
That one got her to turn around. But it was with a glare.
“…Lil H?” Harry said, his confidence suddenly fading. He heard the screeching as mail was being delivered and he began to ramble off his thoughts in the hopes that he would find something to appease her. “Hermpuff? Hermwings? Hermfeathers? …Herms?”
Hermione looked around the room and clearly understood at once the source for his sudden inspiration. “I’m not an owl!” she huffed.
They crossed each other in the Ministry halls.
Harry opened his mouth.
“Shut up,” Hermione warned with a pointing finger.
“You didn’t even hear it!” he protested.
She walked past him without another word.
“I love you!” he called out as she shook her head in exasperation.
As soon as Harry returned home, he was dragged by Hermione into their living room.
“Sit,” she said, motioning to an empty chair.
“What’s this?” he asked with surprise, obeying her command.
She crossed her arms with a frown. “Harry, this is officially an intervention.”
“Intervention?” he repeated slowly.
“Yes,” she said stiffly. “You’ve proved your point, you can be annoying and embarrass me in public. I’m sorry for whatever it is I did. But whatever it is you’re doing, I need you to stop…before it gets…worse.” She shuddered as if imagining just how much worse it could actually get.
“Is this about the nickname thing?”
“Of course it is!” she said, throwing her hands up in the air. “What on earth possessed you to start doing that?”
Harry blinked. “…Are you still pretending to not know what’s happening?”
“…What?”
“You told me to come up with a pet nickname for you!”
“…WHAT?”
“After I told you about what I overheard between Ron’s parents, you said couples in love normally have pet nicknames for each other!”
A look of sudden realization dawned on Hermione’s face. Just as she did that day in the Weasleys’ orchard, she buried her face in her hands again and let out a muffled scream.
“…What?” Harry asked, now starting to feel uncomfortable.
“I don’t just have an idiot for a boyfriend,” Hermione moaned. “I have THE BIGGEST IDIOT IN THE WORLD for a boyfriend.”
“What?” he repeated defensively, not ready to admit what he was slowly realizing. “Didn’t you want me to er… read between the lines?”
Hermione silently approached him and pressed his head to her chest in pity. “I never said that applied to us.”
“…Are we not in love?”
She sat down on his lap and kissed his lips. “Of course we are. But Harry, I also said it was typical couple behavior. And since when have we been just a typical couple?”
“Oh,” Harry said. “Oh,” he repeated as the realization that he had humiliated himself for nothing sunk in. “I guess I kind of just…wanted to feel normal.”
Hermione gave him a sad smile. “I hate to break it to you, Harry. But you’ve never been normal. And you never will be. And after having been around you for all these years, neither will I.”
“Sorry,” he mumbled.
“It’s not something to apologize for,” she said. “You are…so much more to me than just a boyfriend. And I shouldn’t need to say it for you to know that. We’ve always had a connection beyond what other people have. I really believe that. There’s no need for beating around the bush or mindgames with us.”
“Right,” Harry said, now feeling supremely stupid.
“You can always take me…” She cupped his face with her palms and touched her nose to his. “…at face value,” she said.
Harry felt his face heat up as he stared back into her eyes. She broke her gaze and scoffed. “Besides, when have I ever acted favorably towards nicknames?”
“Things can change!” Harry said.
“And some things never change,” Hermione said, looking intensely at him.
“I suppose I should be glad you don’t want me calling you things like Mollywobbles,” he muttered.
Hermione rolled her eyes. “Definitely not. Ron’s lucky he never found that out, at least.”
They suddenly heard a retching from the corner as their eyes turned towards it in alarm.
Harry took his wand out and cautiously approached the corner. But considering this was his house where only one person aside from him and Hermione could enter without him knowing, he had a very good idea of who he would find. He felt around and once his fingers found the edge of the Invisibility Cloak, he flung it off to find a green-looking Ron Weasley.
“Ron!” Harry and Hermione exclaimed at the same time.
“I told you I’d find out,” Ron croaked.
Harry exchanged knowing glances with Hermione. He turned back to Ron with a raised eyebrow. “…And?”
“You were right,” Ron moaned. “I didn’t want to know.”
“Trauma coming back, Won-Won?” Hermione said with a smirk.
“Shut up,” Ron snapped as Harry laughed.
Harry took Hermione’s hand into his. “It’s a good thing you stopped me when you did. I was getting kind of used to coming up with those names but I never shook the feeling that I was rubbish at it.”
“Yes, you were,” Hermione agreed. “But Harry, if you still absolutely want to use nicknames with me, I can…give you lessons,” she said with a suggestive grin as she stroked his chin with her free hand.
“Could you not?” Ron interrupted. “At least while I’m here?”
“You’re free to leave whenever, Ron,” Hermione replied, looking with amusement at Harry’s widened eyes and cautious smile.
“…Yeah, sure.” Harry said.
“But I need to remind you. Any future hypothetical nicknames are to be used—” Hermione suddenly grabbed Harry’s collar and pulled him close. “Only. In. Private,” she whispered into his ear.
Harry gulped. “Yes, ma’am.”