Chapter Text
"You want me to what ?"
Hermione Granger's voice was mostly drowned out by the happy sounds of holiday shoppers, loaded down with bags of colorfully wrapped gifts, greeting friends and family. The air was filled with the rich, delicious scents of sauces and gravies, spicy-sweet mulled cider, and fresh pine from the garland runners decorating the round tables. White twinkle lights were woven through the greenery, giving it an even more festive appearance. Three tall vanilla-scented pillar candles wrapped in glittery red and silver ribbons sat in the center of the tables, burning gently. Over the speakers, the Weird Sisters were singing an extra sultry version of Winter Wonderland. All of the servers were dressed in holiday jumpers and wearing either Santa hats or reindeer ears with jingle bells on the antlers. The atmosphere could not have been more merry or bright. The only thing out of place was this crazy conversation.
"It’s the perfect solution," came the eager reply from the young woman sitting across the table from her, "Viktor can get you those tickets if you kiss Harry."
Hermione stared at Viktor Krum's gorgeous, elegant girlfriend, Vivian Lumen like she was insane. Vivi returned Hermione's shocked look with a placid one of her own.
Needing time away from Bulgaria to lick his wounds after his team’s disappointing loss to Egypt at the World Cup Championship, Viktor announced his retirement from playing quidditch and took a job as a consultant for Puddlemere last summer. Vivi came with him to London, accepting a job at the Ministry of Magic's Spell Creation and Management Department, which was two floors down from Hermione’s office. She ran into the pair of them in the atrium one afternoon when Viktor came to take his girlfriend to lunch.
Genuinely happy to see his former crush, Viktor immediately invited her to join them. Vivi was far less enthusiastic, though she managed to echo her boyfriend’s invitation with convincing sincerity.
"Her game face is top-notch. I'll give her that," Hermione thought. But she wasn't fooled for one second. She'd dealt with enough wary girlfriends over the years to know when she was being sized up. The last thing in the world she wanted to do was spend her lunch hour making awkward small talk with a woman who’d made up her mind to dislike her on sight just because she’d once dated her boyfriend when she was 15 freaking years old. However, to please Viktor (and to make up for her rather distant behavior towards him at Bill and Fleur's wedding), she agreed.
And she couldn't have been more surprised to discover how much she liked Vivi once she got to know her better. Though the young woman's black eyes never quite lost their shrewd look any time Hermione so much as smiled in Viktor's general direction, her sharp sense of humor, her brilliant mind, and her excellent taste in shoes went a long way towards smoothing over her initial cool reception, so much so that when lunch wrapped up and Vivi invited Hermione to their flat for tea the following weekend, she readily agreed.
Over the next few months, the two women solidified their unlikely friendship, even after it became clear that Vivi didn't much like most of Viktor's exes. Or really any woman who she suspected had designs on her boyfriend. She was both ruthless and unapologetic when it came to dealing with overzealous fans, and more than one witch found herself on the business end of Vivi's Instantaneous Crew Cut spell (patent pending), which made all but 1/8 inch of their hair fall out on the spot, leaving them as buzzed as a new recruit. She'd added a reversal-resisting agent to the spell as well, which kept the women from growing their hair back too quickly. Hermione only saw Vivi use the spell twice, but both times left a lasting impression. She decided that as long as she never made a move on Viktor, she and Vivi would get along just fine.
They did get along for the most part, though she had no idea what her friend was playing at now. "Let me get this straight. You're saying Viktor can get me he tickets if I...I..."
"Kiss Harry," Vivi said, dark eyes glowing, “Isn’t that great?”
No, it was not great.
Around her birthday, Hermione had the brilliant idea of getting Ron lifetime season tickets to the Chudley Cannons as a Christmas present. It had been a hard year for both of them after their breakup, more so for Ron than for her, and it was only since Harry's birthday at the end of July that things between them were finally beginning to normalize again. Because Hermione wanted to show Ron that she still loved him as much as ever (and because she still felt horribly guilty for hurting him), she'd had hoped to surprise him with a really spectacular gift this year. The tickets were perfect.
That is, they were perfect right up until she saw their price tag--50,000 galleons. Hermione nearly died.
“I don’t understand,” she lamented to Vivi the next time they met for lunch, “How can they cost so much money? The Cannons suck. It’s not like they’re championship contenders or anything.”
“ No, but they could be one day,” Vivi pointed out, “When you live as long as our kind does, anything’s possible. Someday those tickets could be worth the price .”
“So they charge 10 times the cost of the average Quidditch pitch on the vague promise of "could be one day?” It’s extortion. How do they sell any tickets at all?
“I'm happy to ask Viktor for you, if you like,” Vivi offered, “Even if he’s not playing anymore, he still has a lot of pull in the community. Maybe he can work something out.” Her tone was friendly, but that odd assessing look Vivi leveled at her from time to time flashed in her eyes. It always made Hermione feel like an ant being examined under a magnifying glass.
“Thanks, but I owled him ages ago,” she said, forcing herself to brush off her unsettling paranoia. “Since he hasn’t gotten back to me, I assume it means he can’t help me.”
The only other person who might be in a position to help her was Ginny Weasley, and Ginny wasn't handing out any favors these days, at least not to Hermione. Since ending things with Ron, his sister's demeanor had become downright hostile. Invitations to get together were bluntly rejected, always with the same excuse. “I’m too busy right now. Some other time.”
As much as it hurt her feelings, Hermione didn't have the heart to resent her former friend for it. Since losing Fred, the Weasleys had become much more protective of each other, closing ranks against any perceived threat to one of their own. So until Ron managed to convince his mother and sister to drop their animosity towards her, Hermione Granger's name was likely to remain in the #1 spot on their list of "People Whose Guts We Hate."
Thus she’d pretty much given up hope of getting Ron his really great present.
And then Vivi’s note arrived at her office this morning, asking her to meet at Esmerelda's Grotto at noon for lunch. I’ve figured out a way for you to get the tickets after all. If we hurry, you can still get them in time for Christmas.
Thrilled, Hermione raced to the restaurant.
Vivi was already there, looking very chic in a hunter green off-the-shoulder cashmere sweater dress and matching snakeskin pumps.
"Hi," she said, air-kissing Vivi's proffered cheek, "You look stunning." Viktor's girlfriend was always beautiful, no matter what color she wore, but for some reason that Hermione couldn’t quite put her finger on, dark green seemed to suit her the best.
"Thanks. So do you," Vivi said, "I ordered us drinks."
"Great."
She barely gave Hermione time to drop into her chair before hitting her with this absurd claim that making out with Harry was the answer to all her problems.
If this was a joke, Hermione didn't find it at all funny. “I don’t understand what kissing Harry has to do with anything," she said, "And why would Viktor, of all people, want me to kiss him?”
Vivi was prevented from answering when their server appeared holding two tall cream-colored mugs with holly and ivy trim, which he set on the table before them. Hot chocolate with whipped cream, sprinkled with cinnamon, for Hermione, and a pumpkin spice latte for Vivi. She took a careful sip of it before answering. “Okay, so you’re not going to like this part, but at least hear me out before you go flying off the handle,” she said, “It seems there’s this longstanding bet about when you and Harry will snog each other for the first time that I’m pretty sure goes all the way back to your Hogwarts days. The pot is up to several thousand galleons now.”
Hermione’s mouth fell open in shock. “A-are you kidding me?” she spluttered, “Who does that? What grown-up does that? Why are my peers so bloody immature?”
“To be fair, it’s not just your peers. Quite a few adults placed bets too. Your old professors. Your co-workers here at the Ministry. Even your bosses have gotten in on the action.”
“Well, then, they’re out some money they're never getting back because they're wrong,” Hermione said, “They’ve always been wrong. Harry and I are friends. Just friends. He’s like a brother to me, for godsakes. We’ve never even thought about kissing each other.”
Only that wasn’t entirely true.
Unbidden, a memory of another Christmas 5 years ago sprang up before her mind’s eye. A lonely tent in the middle of nowhere. Two overwhelmed and frightened teenagers with their arms wrapped tightly around each other and their faces only inches apart, fighting desperately to hang on to the last bit of hope and sanity they had.
She could still see the question in his green eyes as they traveled slowly over every inch of her face, lingering for a long time on her mouth, before flicking back up to meet her gaze. Could still feel the heat of his body soaking into her as he pressed her close against him, and the way his hands bunched in the fabric of her shirt at the small of her back.
He wanted to kiss her. She could see it all over his face. He wanted to kiss her so badly, his hands were shaking from the effort it took to stay where they were. One word—one look, even—was all it would take, and Hermione would finally have the answer to the question she rarely let herself wonder. What would it be like to kiss her best friend? All it would take was her leaning forward, just a little, trusting that Harry would meet her halfway, and the two of them would change the nature of their friendship forever. One word, one look, one inch...
Instead, she’d pulled herself out of his arms and slowly walked away from him. And Harry let her go.
Hermione forced herself to shove the memory back into the dark, hidden corner of her brain where it belonged. "I still don’t see what any of this has to do with Viktor,” she said, hoping her face wasn’t as red as it felt. “Don’t tell me he’s caught up in this nonsense too.”
“Not directly, no. But here's my plan. I’ll place a small wager in his name that you’ll kiss Harry today at 4p, the winnings will be deposited into his account, and voila!" She lifted both hands in an exultant gesture, "The tickets are as good as yours.”
"That's cheating," Hermione protested, "I can't believe you'd even suggest it.” Except on reflection, she supposed it wasn't that out of character for Vivi. After all, this was a woman who hexed other women bald without even blinking for smiling too much at her boyfriend.
“No, it's not cheating. I've looked into it. There is no rule that specifically states someone can’t outright ask you to kiss Harry or vice versa.”
“I’m sure it’s implied, though.”
“It doesn’t matter if it’s implied or not. If it’s not spelled out word for word, it’s not cheating. There are only 2 hard and fast rules for this. It has to be a proper snog, not some namby-pamby, grandmotherly peck on the cheek. And no one can force either one of you to do it against your will. As far as I'm concerned, if no one else has thought of taking the direct approach with you before now, then I guess they didn’t want to win bad enough.”
Vivi’s Cheshire cat smile was so self-congratulatory, Hermione was suddenly and pointedly reminded of Draco Malfoy. While her plan wasn’t technically against the rules, it was definitely straddling that thin line that separated “shades of gray” from “inarguably unethical.” While the Slytherin prince would never involve himself in something as crass as betting on when Harry Potter would kiss Hermione Granger, she had a feeling he would wholeheartedly approve of Vivi’s nuanced approach to problem-solving.
“I don’t understand why you would want to entangle yourself in such a tacky and juvenile ploy, Vivian Lumen," Hermione said, "What sort of person places bets on other people’s love lives?"
"I’m sure the whole thing started as a joke. It's just gone on for so long now, it’s taken on a life of its own.”
Nice. Her very real, very complicated feelings for her best friend were a joke to other people.
“Harry and I have both been in relationships with other people. How has this bet not died a natural death a long time ago?"
“It probably would have were it not for the fact that no matter how many other people you date, you two keep coming back to each other.”
It was a diplomatic reference to the articles that appeared in the Daily Prophet every time one or the other of them went through a breakup. The worst was when Harry and Ginny ended things for good, and Harry moved into Hermione's flat for a few months while he finished rebuilding his parents’ house in Godric’s Hollow. The press stalked them relentlessly for weeks.
“Of course we always come back to each other," she said, exasperated, "Because. We’re. Friends !”
“Well, don’t bite my head off. I’m just trying to help you out,” Vivi said, “Like it or not, there are a lot of people out there who aren't buying your "practically siblings" routine, and they’re willing to put their money with their mouth is.”
"What a bloody waste," Hermione muttered, glaring down at her half-empty mug like she hated it, “Must be nice to have so much discretionary income these days, you can afford to throw it away on something so stupid."
Vivi’s expression became a little less serene as a small frown line appeared between her sculpted eyebrows. "I thought you’d be pleased. Not only can you get your ex his extra-awesome, super-amazing Christmas present, this is your chance to put this whole wager thing to bed once and for all. Kiss your boy and it's over. Two birds, one stone.”
Instead of responding, Hermione took another sip of now cold cocoa, then set it back down hard, grumbling to herself about nosey pests, fake friends, the Wizarding World's unhealthy preoccupation with her love life, and something about it being “all that two-knut hack, Rita Skeeter’s fault ”, which she doubted Vivi understood.
“It’s just a silly bet,” Vivi told her, “Why are getting so worked up over it? Who even cares?"
No one cared, that much was clear. No one cared at all how much it would hurt her to kiss Harry when he'd made it perfectly clear that he had zero interest in kissing her back.
“Let’s see how much you like it when people start obsessing about your personal life and running unflattering news articles about you and taking bets on how long your relationship will last,” Hermione said.
“Um...helloooo,” Vivi raised her hand, "Dating a hot, wealthy, international quidditch star, remember? Get back to me when you're accused so many times of being a succubus in disguise, your boyfriend’s family takes out a contract with an exorcist.”
Well, Vivi had here there.
“Look, I get that it might be a little strange, but it’s not like you and Harry are a couple of bashful, starry-eyed virgins here. I've seen the way you two look at each other-"
"We don't look at each other," Hermione cut in quickly.
"--and the way you touch each other--"
"WE DO NOT TOUCH EACH OTHER!" she screeched.
Conversation in the restaurant ground to a halt as every head swiveled towards the two young women seated in the corner. Hermione's face turned bright red and she snatched up her mug, taking a big drink to cover her embarrassment, while Vivi broke into laughter. The silvery sound was almost enough provocation for Hermione to shoot her a two-fingered salute.
"We do not touch each other," Hermione insisted in a much quieter voice.
"You can't keep your hands off each other," Vivi countered, still grinning, "The way you run your fingers through his hair every time you pass him? The way he puts his hand on the small of your back whenever you're walking somewhere together? All the hugging the two of you do anytime you're going to be separated for longer than 5 minutes? Even Viktor and I don't touch so often, and I'm shagging his brains out every night. So as much as you may not like to hear it, I can totally see why people might think something is going on between you. And all I'm saying is if you really want those tickets, this is your best shot at getting them."
"Well, forget it, then," Hermione said sulkily, "I'm not selling myself. Or Harry, for that matter. It’s depraved."
"Oh, come on. Don’t be such a prude.” A hint of exasperation crept into Vivi’s tone. “It’s just a kiss. No one’s asking you to sleep with him. Think of Ron. Think how much he'll love getting season tickets to his favorite Quidditch team's games for the rest of his life. Think how delighted he'll be when he opens that white envelope with his name written in black swirly script across the front and sees what's inside on Christmas morning. It'll be a dream come true for him. Can you imagine it? Can you picture his face right now?"
Yes, Hermione could picture Ron's face, stunned and excited. Maybe it would be enough to finally replace the memory of the devastated look he'd given her the day she told him they weren’t right together and she couldn't go on pretending that they were. More than a year had passed and that crushed, defeated look still haunted her. Still made her cry.
“Dammit.” It was the politer of the two words that sprang to her mind. “ Damn. It .”
Hermione glimpsed an edge of triumph in Vivi's smile just before dropping her head on the table with a dull thump. “Harry might say no, you know,” she mumbled against the white table cloth.
Vivi huffed a derisive bark of laughter in response.
Their server appeared at their side again, the bells on the ends of his antlers jingling merrily, as he balanced two plates of hot, fragrant cottage pie in each hand. He set the plates in front of them, made his polite inquiries about what else he could bring them, and whisked away their empty mugs. The music had switched to an upbeat wizarding version of Santa Baby, with a few of the patrons who'd taken advantage of the restaurant's two-for-one special on eggnog raising their glasses and singing along.
“Let's at least spare Viktor the hassle of getting mixed up in this,” Hermione sighed, resigned, “When I get the money, I’ll just buy the tickets myself.”
“No!” It came out sounding so much like a command that Hermione paused with a forkful of cottage pie halfway to her mouth.
“Sorry?”
“Well, no one knows for sure what the pot is up to,” Vivi hurried to explain, “If it’s not quite enough to cover the cost, it will mean calling in some favors. Viktor’s in the best position to work that out, don’t you think? Besides," she picked up her fork and speared up a bite of pie, "he likes doing favors for you.”
There was that look again, a slight frosting in Vivi's eyes and a tightness around her mouth. But it vanished almost as soon as it appeared.
“What if he can’t?” Hermione pressed.
Vivi waved her off. “Let me worry about that. But you're in, yes?”
Hermione bracketed her forehead with both hands, her thumbs pressing hard against her temples. How was she supposed to get Harry to go along with this?
“The things we'll do for our friends, eh?" Vivi’s voice was equal parts sympathy and cheer. "4:00 this afternoon. In your office. Do Harry a favor and wear that pretty cinnamon-flavored lip gloss of yours."