When Hermione Granger opened her eyes, the sun was already peeking through the curtains, filtering warmth and brightness into the large bedroom. She put her arms above her head and stretched, a smile appearing. Today was her twenty-fifth birthday, and somehow Hermione knew it was going to be a wonderful day.

The scent of coffee wafted into the room and she sat up, drawn to the aroma like a niffler to a coin.

“Good morning,” her boyfriend said, sitting on the edge of the bed, mug in hand. He leaned over and kissed her, and then waited until she had propped herself up properly before handing her the mug. “I know you usually like a cup of tea, but I thought something stronger might be in order this morning.”

Hermione took the mug with thanks and grinned. “If somebody hadn't insisted on making love to me half the night, I'd have gotten enough sleep not to need coffee, wouldn't I?”

A slight blush appeared on Harry's cheeks, which Hermione found secretly adorable. Even though they'd been together for almost a year and he enjoyed their lovemaking as much as she did, Hermione was still able to embarrass him occasionally, which always made her laugh, and today was no exception.

“I didn't hear you objecting,” Harry said quietly, the corners of his mouth twitching as a smirk fought its way to the surface.

“I had no reason to,” Hermione responded, her satisfaction evident. “You still meeting me for lunch today?”

Harry's eyes widened. “Oh, bugger. I'm so sorry, love. I have to cancel, I've got an emergency meeting to attend.”

Hermione's face fell. “But I thought that today... well, because of today you'd--”

“We can always have lunch tomorrow instead, okay? I really can't blow off this meeting. Listen, I have to make tracks or I'll be late. Have a good day,” He got up and kissed her, seemingly unaware of her disappointment. “I'll see you tonight.”

Hermione watched him go in disbelief. He hadn't even acknowledged her birthday. How could he have forgotten?

~*~

As the day wore on, Hermione's disappointment in the face of her special day being forgotten by Harry turned into anger. She'd received owls from so many of her friends and colleagues; Ron had turned up just before lunch and whisked her away to an expensive restaurant situated in one of the alleyways of Diagon Alley. He'd presented her with a rare, signed first edition of Hogwarts, A History and a beautiful, brown leather satchel with which she could carry her various books and parchments to and from work in. It had numerous spells that made it much bigger on the inside with endless pockets to carry all her belongings. Both presents were so thoughtful that she burst into tears, and it was on Ron's shoulder, his arms around her comfortingly, that she told him about Harry's apparent bad memory.

Ron let her go, giving her a handkerchief to dry her eyes, and frowned thoughtfully. “That doesn't sound like Harry. Maybe you'll have an owl waiting for you when you get back.”

But there was not a word from Harry upon her return to work, and Hermione brooded all afternoon. By 3pm, she was calling him every name she could think of, and the murderous look on her face sent one of her colleagues brave enough to attempt to approach her scuttling back to his office. She worked a bit later that normal, and by the time she was ready to go home, she had calmed down enough to not want to ignore Harry for the next forty years.

Crookshanks greeted her at the door and she picked him up, rubbing her face against his soft fur. “Hello, old boy,” she cooed softly. “At least someone wants to give me a hug.” She set him and her various bags down, then slipped off her robes and hung them up. “You home, Harry?”

“I'm in the lounge room!”

As Hermione approached, she noticed a strange glow coming from the room. When she stepped into it, she found out what was causing it - hundreds of tiny candles hovered in mid-air; pinks, blues, greens, yellows, all pastel and burning brightly. The room had been redecorated; there were at least a dozen bunches of flowers strategically placed in various spots around the room. In the middle was a table, intimately set for two, with fine china, crystal glasses, and silver cutlery. On one place setting was a small box, wrapped with a bow. And next to the table stood Harry, a single red rose in hand.

“Happy Birthday, Hermione,” he said with a smile.

She let out a gasp, her eyes misting. “Oh, Harry,” she breathed. “I thought--”

“You thought I'd forgotten your birthday, didn't you?” He tutted at her. “As if I would ever forget. I wanted to surprise you with something special.” Harry went over to her, handing her the rose and drawing her into his arms. His kiss was wonderfully sweet, and Hermione had to wipe her eyes with the back of her hand to stop the tears flowing. The room was perfectly romantic and made her feel so very special; Harry was not always the most thoughtful of creatures, but it was clear he'd made a big effort to do something he knew she'd like.

“Dinner's warming in the oven, because I wasn't sure how late you'd be or whether you'd even come home. How annoyed with me were you?”

Hermione had to smile. “Extremely. But you're more than forgiven. It's beautiful.”

“So are you.”

She put her arms around his neck and drew him back down into a longer kiss, then just hugged him to her, not wanting to let him go. Eventually she did, so he could serve up dinner, and they recounted their days as they ate. After dinner and Hermione's favourite dessert of crème brulee, she showed him the gifts and owls she'd received from her family and friends and placed the cards up on the mantelpiece.

“You certainly did well,” Harry commented as he fingered her book from Ron.

“I sure did.”

“You seem to be missing one present, though.”

“I do?”

“Yes, from me.”

Hermione grinned slyly, seizing an opportunity to pay him back. “Are you going to give it to me out here?” she purred.

“Yes, of course I am.” Hermione could hear the confusion in his tone and she tried desperately not to smile.

“Where do you want me?”

“Where do I want... Oh.” Harry had caught on, and Hermione had managed to make him blush again. “I wasn't talking about that.”

“Wasn't talking about what?” Hermione was enjoying this far too much to let it go yet.

“Insatiable wench,” he muttered as he strode over to the table and picked up the box.

“It's your fault,” Hermione said teasingly as he handed her the present. “Thank you.” She gave him a slow, teasing kiss, biting gently on his bottom lip as she pulled away. At Harry's urging, Hermione opened the present and found a beautiful platinum necklace nestled snugly in the box with a diamond-shaped heart at the end of it. “Oh, Harry,” she said in wonder. “It's gorgeous!”

“Do you like it?”

“I love it,” she said, pulling it out of the box and holding it out to him. “Put it on for me?”

Harry secured the clasp around her neck and Hermione went over to the mirror, studying the diamond as it twinkled against her skin, just above her breasts. It wasn't enormous enough to be crass, but it was big enough for her to know it had to have been expensive. Harry came up behind her, sweeping her hair aside so he could kiss the side of her neck. His arms went around her waist, and the two of them stared at their reflections in the mirror.

“If this was the Mirror of Erised, do you know what I'd see?” Harry asked softly.

Hermione swallowed past the lump that had formed in her throat, her eyes teary. “What would you see?”

“Exactly what I'm seeing right now.”

Hermione stared at him in the mirror, not bothering to wipe away the tear that slid down her cheek. “I love you, Harry Potter,” she said, turning her face towards him.

Harry kissed her forehead. “I know.”

They stood together silently for a few long moments, happy in their love for one another. Hermione then kissed him, and asked, “So how about my other present, then?”

“Right now?” he murmured against her lips.

“Right now,” she confirmed. “I'll race you to the bedroom.”