My Best Friend’s Wedding
By: pottersweetie

Author’s Note: I know you’ve seen the title before, but I tried to make it as cliché free as I could. Enjoy, Read, Review!

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Chapter One
War of the Worlds

I hurry into the restaurant and stop at the small podium the maitre d’ is standing behind.

“Good evening Miss, how may I help you?” he asks, his rat-like face morphing into a smile.

I answer unsurely, “I’m supposed to be meeting Robert Bradley.”

The maitre d’ smiles instantly, “Oh yes, Mr. Bradley is already waiting for you, I’ll show you to his table,” he says.

“Oh, thank you,” I reply, as he guides me to a small, well trimmed table off to the side of the room where Robbie’s sitting.

“Here you are Miss,” he says, stopping at the table and pulling my chair out for me.

“Thank you,” I say, sitting down.

“Enjoy, your meal,” he calls, walking away.

“Thanks,” I mutter and turn to Robbie with a smile.

“Nice of you to join me,” he teases, his dark hair falling slightly in his face.

My face contorts into a guilty, sheepish pout, “I know, I’m sorry I’m late, It’s just you now London traffic and-”

“It took you longer than you thought to get ready,” he finishes for me.

I tilt my head with a bright smile, “How did you know?” I ask.

He laughs, “It’s one of the perks of being gay,” he gives an overly-dramatic hand flourish and I can’t help but laugh. “So how’s your love-life?” he asks.

I laugh instantly and reply, “You only saw me, what, two hours ago?”

“Something might’ve changed.”

“Like what?”

“I dunno - You might’ve ran into some hottie on the way here and had a quick snog,” he jokes.

I stare at him, a smile still upon my face, “It’s funny how that’s the first thing you ask me.”

“What can I say? It’s an obsession,” he gestures to himself.

We’re interrupted by someone, a tall, blonde, blue-eyed waiter, “Would you two like to start off with some drinks and appetizers?”

“Uh, yeah that sounds good,” Robbie answers, looking at me. “Bread?”

I nod.

“All right,” the waiter scribbles it down on a note pad. “And to drink?”

I’m about to order a diet soda but Robbie cuts me off, “Wine, we’ll have wine.”

“Any specific type, Sir?” he asks.

Robbie looks at the waiter as if he’s daft, “The purplish-red kind?” he says as if it’s obvious.

“Right, I’ll be back with your orders,” and he leaves.

I snort once he’s out of ear shot.

“What?” demands Robbie.

“The purplish-red kind?” I raise an eye brow.

“I got my point across didn’t I?” he smirks.

“I suppose,” I smile cheekily.

After a few minutes of silence, “He was really cute.”

“I know,” I agree, laughing with Robbie.

Then we begin talking about stupid, non-important stuff, and not longer after the waiter comes back with a basket of bread and two glasses of dark wine.

He places it all on the table and I smile, saying ‘thank you.’

He turns to leave and Robbie says, “Nice toosh,” quite loud on purpose.

The waiter turns around and questions, “Excuse me?”

“Hermione!” Robbie scolds me. “Why would you say that?” he turns to the waiter. “You’ll have to excuse her, she hasn’t taken her medication today, she’ll be fine though.”

“I’m very sorry, I just can’t control myself sometimes,” I reluctantly play along.

He gives us a funny nod and walks away.

When he’s gone I slap Robbie’s arm playfully, “That’s sexual harassment, you could’ve gotten me in trouble!”

“That was NOT sexual harassment. . . . It’s homosexual harassment, very different.”

I laugh and take a sip of wine, “Right.”

Suddenly I hear this teeny, beeping sound and my ears perk up.

“What is that?” asks Robbie, looking around.

“That’s my voice mail,” I tell him, reaching into my bag and pulling out my mobile phone. “Sorry,” I say, punching in my password on the keypad and pressing the phone to my ear I listen to the message I’ve just received.

Soon a familiar, long lost voice is gushing into my ear and flooding my brain.

“Uh, hey Hermione, it’s Harry. . . . I know we haven’t spoken in almost ten years but I’m back in London and I was wondering if we could meet up, maybe go out for lunch, catch up a bit. I’m at my flat in London, just give me a call anytime, bye-” and it clicks off.

I close my phone, not blinking, my mouth agape.

“What’s wrong?” Robbie asks, chewing on some bread.

“Oh my God.”

“What?” he asks again.

“OH MY GOD!”

“Oh my God?”

“Harry’s in London!”

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“Ok so let me get this straight,” Robbie says. “Your best friend, who you haven’t seen in almost ten years is back from fighting evil bitches as an Auror and you’re not sure if you want to see him, and he’s hot.”

“Right,” I answer.

“Are you daft?!” he yells.

All through dinner I was explaining my situation to Robbie and now as we walk through Muggle London I’m starting to think he didn’t quite comprehend my story.

“No you don’t understand,” I sigh. “I pretty much cut myself off from the magical world eight years ago, I just ran away-”

“Why though?” he cuts me off.

“Let me finish! I ran away from everything there, magic, Harry and the evil he had demolished . . . . He went straight into Auror training and I knew I would hardly see him, what with traveling around the world-”

“So you ran because you would never see him?” he questions.

“No! No,” I twist my hands in a knot. “I ran - Because I heard before Harry started moving around that he was going to ask me to come with him, and I was scared, I freaked out and ran, cut all ties to the magical world.”

“You freaked out?” he looks at me worriedly.

“Yes,” I say feebly.

“God woman, you are daft!” he shouts.

I shake my head, biting my lip.

“You love him,” he says and I look up startled.

“Excuse me?”

“You are in love with Harry!” he points at me accusingly.

My mouth drops open, “I am not!” or at least I don’t think I am. “I haven’t seen him in years, how could I be in love with him?”

“You ran away because you were scared of your feelings for him! Oh I am good, I called that one!”

“Robbie stop being ridiculous! I don’t love him, besides he’s probably got some great, gorgeous, g-girlfriend traveling w-with him,” my voice falters as I feel a sharp pang in my heart.

Robbie stares at me expectantly.

“Oh my God I’m in love with Harry,” I look at him horrified.

“Uh-huh,” he smiles and nods curtly.

“Well I can’t see him anyway,” I fold my arms over my chest.

“Why?!” demands Robbie.

“Because, the longer I don’t see him the shorter it’ll take to get over him, that’s why I cut myself off from the magical world. If I see him now it’ll be like a collision of what I’ve overcome and what I used to know, battle of the universes, war of the worlds,” I look at him expectantly.

“You know, that was a very good movie, terribly underrated, Tom Cruise is annoying and hot, still don’t like him though,” he says to no one in particular.

“Robbie! Are you even listening to me?!” I shriek.

“Yes, I think you should at least give him a ring, I doubt anything can happen just by talking to the guy,” he tells me.

I groan and just keep walking.

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Here I am, pacing in my room, contemplating what to say when I call him. Robbie’s probably right, just calling him can’t hurt, right?

I glance at my reflection in the mirror and my face contorts, my thick, curly hair is a mess, sticking up every which way, my brown eyes are slightly red from fatigue and anxiety, and my pajama pants are two sizes, too big.

I sigh and look at the crumpled up, piece of paper in my hand. I take a deep breath, this is the paper that contains Harry’s number, I had already crumpled it up, thrown it in the wastebasket, took it out, uncrumpled it, stared at it, crumpled it again, threw it into the fire, took it out, repaired it (magically) and am now staring at it again.

“Ok,” I say aloud as Crookshanks slinks into the room and perches himself on the end of my bed, staring at me curiously. “This can’t be that difficult.”

I begin pacing again.

“He’s still Harry, nothing’s really changed, ‘Hey mate, anything new happen in the last ten years?’ No, that sounds moronic. ‘Hello Harry, lovely weather lately?’ Well yeah, that could work if it hadn’t been raining the whole bloody week!” I start drumming my fingers against my leg in anticipation, it really shouldn’t be this hard to talk to Harry.

But the thing is, it is really hard. I don’t know what he’s been doing the past nine years, is he still famous? Is Rite Skeeter still on his tail? Are he and Ron still best mates? Is Ron still the same Ron I knew from Hogwarts-

My thoughts are interrupted by a low, impatient, rumble of a meow from Crookshanks and I take that as my que to call.

“Fine,” I snap at the orange cat and grab the cordless phone from my night table and take a deep breath, I glance at the number again and punch it in, press the phone to my ear and listen intently.

Ring.

Oh shit.

Ring.

Crap.

Ring.

Okay, deep breaths it’ll be fine.

Ring.

Maybe he won’t pick up, yeah he’s probably out or something.

Ri-

“Hello?”

Or not.

“Er.... Hey Harry, it’s Hermione I got your message-”

“Hermione! It’s so great to hear from you! What have you been doing for the past ten years?” he asks excitedly.

At the sound of his calm, relaxed voice, I’m already at ease.

“Oh, the same things, work, friends, what about you?” I ask, walking around my room, still holding the paper in my hand, delicately this time.

“They gave me a bunch of Auror work to do, had me traveling all over Europe, the midwest, you know, and then the paparazzi of the magical world is still bothering me,” he laughs.

I smile, “So your still famous then?”

He laughs again, “You don’t know the half of it.”

“Fill me in,” I say.

He pauses, “All right, in Witch Weekly they give out one poster of me in at least every issue, I have people following me with cameras when I go to buy bloody toilet paper, and the rumors are still coming in herds.”

I try to contain my laughter but snort instead.

“It’s not funny!” he scolds me but laughs all the same.

“Right, sorry.”

”It’s not always fun to be The-Boy-Who-Lived-Again,” he tells me.

“I can imagine,” I reply.

After a few seconds of silence he begins talking again, “Listen Hermione, could we go get a drink? I have to tell you something important,” he sounds kind of apprehensive.

“But Harry it’s almost-”

“Nine o’clock,” I can tell he’s raising his eyebrow.

I smile, “All right.”

“I’ll pick you up at your flat in a half an hour, okay? What’s your address again?”

I give it to him, then we hang up.

I take a deep breath.

I doubt anything can happen by just talking to the guy.... Robbie’s voice rings in my head.

“So much for your advice, Rob,” I shake my head and start getting ready.

Author’s Note: Hope you liked it, thanks for reading! Please review!