Hopeless

1. untitled

I'm a coward. I'm standing in the corner, holding a butterbeer. I'm smiling a smile that is not mine, I'm laughing a laugh that is not mine, and I'm watching something that I try to never watch.

I never interfere with anyone's affairs deliberately. I'm the type to sit back and clamp my mouth shut. I partly do this because sometimes I don't really care. I don't like the attention. Other times it's because I don't think I should be the one to stop fate from happening. But now, more than anything, I wish I had the will to say, “Stop.”

Ron and Hermione are kissing. Her left hand is entwined in his fiery hair, and her diamond ring blinds me.

The room is loud, filled with laughter and excited squeals that are mainly from the girls. I hear applause and words of rapture and surprise. I think I even hear myself join them.

They don't know that I'm trying not to give in to my screams, that I'm trying my best to be a good friend. They don't see the way I'm grasping the bottle of my beverage as if I'm squeezing the life out of it. Funny. These people have known me since I was twelve, but they could not even detect a lie from me. That's alright, I suppose. It keeps my secret hidden. I won't be exposed as long as I act the way I am acting right now.

I think everything in my life is going okay. Just okay. Not spectacular. Not magnificent. Okay. I know that people think my life is spectacular! Magnificent! Perrrr-fect! They think, naively, "Oh, he defeated You-Know-Who so he must be so happy!"

I want to tell them that they're wrong, but I know that the media would just continue to badger me with their questions. "Why, Mr. Potter, are you not happy?" I know that my friends will ask the same. I'm not ready for that. I will never reveal my secrets to the world, to anyone. I've heard people say that it's unhealthy to keep things inside. They say it'll eventually lead to suicide or to a certain breaking point where you do something that you will always regret.

I've learned the art of keeping my feelings a secret. I'm sure I can do it for as long as possible.

I promised myself that I would do it ever since I first saw her lying in the Hospital Wing with him holding her hand. I can pretend because I do it every single day of my life. I do it every time I'm here at the Burrow. I do it every time I see her face and remember our times when we were young.

But promises are sometimes broken.

My eyes search for Luna and I can see her staring at the couple like I am—in a daze. Her eyes are wide as usual, but I'm the only one who knows that she's just trying not to blink because people might see her tears. I give her a look that only she can understand.

Don't. I had told her the same thing when we first stood together in the Hospital Wing.

But this time, Luna shakes her head, a gesture that I had never seen from her.

It's…done. Her eyes are resigned, and I stand there, helpless and hopeless, as she turns and exits the room. For the longest time, we've held on to the hope that they would remember what used to be. The free recklessness we had during wartime, the moments when we threw caution into the wind, and became the people we were meant to be. Now how can we find that type of love again?

I see his mum, my second mum, smile and clap her hands together. She's happy, of course. Her husband stands behind her and puts his hands on her shoulders. He watches his son with a proud look in his eyes.

I suddenly feel horrible because I don't feel the same way.

What would happen if I stepped into the middle of the room, and announce my objections to this engagement? The anger in Ron's eyes. The horror in Molly's face—a happy ending disrupted by a man who waited until the very last minute to announce his true affections. I can't ever imagine being forgiven, and I would lose my family, I'm sure of it. I have seen over the years the depth of the Weasleys' sorrows, and I know that I am to blame for leading them to constant misery. I can never repay them, because even though they've lost so much, they still gave everything to me. Everything that's happy in my life right now … I owe it to them.

Ron playfully pushes me by the shoulder. Talks about how he wanted to throw up before proposing, how he couldn't believe Hermione had said yes, and would I be his best man?

I take a glass that someone—at least someone with red hair—hands to me and I raise it up to Ron and Hermione, who joins him a few seconds later. I say something, we all do, and everyone drinks a small sip from their glasses.

I don't know what it is, but I down it in one gulp. The taste is somehow missing. I think I'm clapping louder than anyone else.  I'm surrounded by people. Radiant.

I can't help but feel so alone.

2. Chapter 2

Hopeless

Viopathartic

If you squint, you'll see some hints about what's coming up. You'll notice that though this chapter is longer than the previous, it's still considered "short". Well, that's the way I'm writing the story so…

Anyways, you'll find out more if you read.

Hope you enjoy it.

I am a liar. I am a fake.

But it doesn't make me feel bad. Not even a little. See, people are happy when I lie. They're satisfied when I say things that they want to hear.

Harry, would you like some pie?

Yes, Mrs. Weasley.

Harry, will you be my best man?

Of course, Ron!

Harry, will you sit and suffer as you watch Hermione get married to your best friend?

I'd be glad to!

Mrs. Weasley and her sons' wives are cleaning up the kitchen as I sit at the counter. The Burrow get-together is ending at dusk and the party guests have separated. I think the men had gone outside a while ago to drink some butterbeer and firewhiskey.

"...my parents. Do you want to go?"

I shake away from my thoughts in time to realize that Hermione was talking to me. She has this look that tells me that I need to answer.

"What?"

"Were you listening?" she asks suspiciously.

"No, I spaced out. Sorry." Not really.

"Harry," she says as if she's disappointed, but I know that she wouldn't get mad at such a little thing. "Ron and I are going to see my parents tomorrow, and we wondering if you wanted to come?"

"Uh...no!" I answer quickly. Let me suffer alone.

"Why not?" Of course, she doesn't know...she doesn't remember...

I rack my brain to find a decent excuse but I mess up. "I just thought that you and Ron might just want to...you know...I--"

She suddenly understands--like always--and she says, sadly and sympathetically, "Oh, Harry! You don't think that we'd abandon you just because we're getting married! That would never happen."

I pretend to look embarrassed. "I know...but…why didn't you guys tell me that…"

I'm gripping my bottle again. Good thing it's sturdy, To her, it must seem like I'm nervous.

She mouth forms and "o" and she flushes. "The baby."

"I thought you wanted to wait until you're married," I say quietly. I remember the time when we talked about life after Hogwarts. She told me, firmly and sincerely, that she would wait until we—

"What?" She looks at me weirdly, and suddenly, I remember my place.

I'm Harry Potter, the best man.

"Never mind," I mutter, "I was just surprised."

"You sound…" she hesitates, "disappointed."

I freeze for a second—just one second—before making myself laugh. "Why would I be disappointed, as you say? It's not like…I-I'm your father! I'm only saying that I never imagined this happening…"

"It was sudden. I didn't expect it either," she whispers to me. "You know."

No, I don't know.

But I nod as if I do. That makes things go much faster.

"So are you coming with us tomorrow? I need someone to be there when I tell mum about the news," stated Hermione. She's pleading for me with her eyes.

I open my mouth but naturally, I don't get to speak.

"Besides, my parents like you...AND you're the best man. We're going to talk about wedding arrangements and you HAVE to be there," she demands of me. I can't argue because she always gets me when she uses that tone. It's just so...Hermione. I would never want to disappoint her.

Plus, if I keep this up, they'll probably ask me why I'm avoiding any involvement in the wedding. Again, I don't want that to happen. Yeah, I have plenty of logic,

"Alright," I answer quietly. "I'll go."

She smiles and clasps her hands together. "Good. Now where did Ron go? I need to speak with him for a little..."

I point to a general direction--I have no bloody clue where her fiancé was and frankly, I don't care—and Hermione leaves.

Mrs. Weasley hums as she cleans the top counters next to me. I smile back, stretching my mouth so far that I thought my face would break.

I'm walking next to Hermione while Ron got the other side. We just apparated to a spot three blocks away from Hermione's home and were currently walking by foot. She has her arms looped through ours and she's holding the two of us close, so close that I could smell the shampoo that she uses.

I constantly ask myself, "Why?" Why am I walking besides the girl who I love while she is squished between me and her fiancé? Why am smiling as if my life was perfect?

Well, those questions are useless.

I realize it too belatedly because the three of us—the proud, the pregnant, and the pathetic—are already standing on the doorsteps to the Grangers' home.

My eyes, as if acting on their own, move down to watch as her hand and his hand intertwine. They're nervous, I can tell. I can see it in their eyes. They're afraid that they would not be accepted, that their engagement at such a young age—23 years old, just to let it out—would not be celebrated but frowned upon.

The door swings open and Mrs. Granger is there to attend to us. She puts on a look of surprise and beckons her daughter to come in, but I already know that she knew we would come. Hermione's not the type to just drop by.

People begin to speak. Hi, how are you. I'm fine, and you?

I reluctantly put on a smile, an act that I know I will have to do if I want to be believed.

We settle in the living room and Hermione gets it over with first. She sits her parents down and then Ron and herself. I sit myself in the chair next to her, awaiting the moment to be over. Hermione grabs her fiancé's hand for support and then nods determinedly. Her voice is small and hesitant at first, but it was at the end where she firmly stated that she, Hermione Granger, was getting married.

It's a repeat of yesterday. Hermione! Wow! Congratulations! I don't really remember much because I had already left (not physically but in my mind). In my place was a body that had black hair on his head and green eyes.

At least the celebration was quicker than yesterday's.

Am I the only who realizes that she and Ron failed to mention the baby?

Must have slipped their minds.

Hermione had told me about her family, but she left out the fact that they were pretty well off. Her house is probably three times the size of The Burrow. The lawn was immaculately managed and the garden with flowers blooming in the summer's day only completed the image of Hermione's home.

Her parents lead us through the house. They give us a general tour of their living room, kitchen, and library (of course), and pointed us to our bedrooms.

Hermione had already gone to her childhood bedroom while me and Ron were left to claim our rooms. I go for the one nearest to the bathroom and next to Hermione's room. I'm surprised to find that the room was very fitting of me. The walls were painted a pearl white and were bare except for some bookshelves and an oval shaped mirror hanging on one of the walls. My bed was a queen size, which reminded me of my times at Hogwarts.

I drop my bags onto my bed and stand there in the middle of the room. A week. That's how long I have to stay there. All the while, Hermione had said, we're going to talk about the wedding and her dress and his tuxedo and...

Oh joy!

I feel like a Maid of Honor instead of a best man.

I'm assuming that this room used to be Hermione's extra room; she was, after all, an only child. I see her books lining the walls on built in shelves. A large map of the world hung above the bed and as I look closer, I see Hermione's young handwriting. She had apparently used abbreviations and numbers to memorize the countries. England was number 1 and was marked with E to the third power...I'm not going to even try to understand her mind.

There was also an antique nightstand next to the bed. A couple of picture frames were neatly arranged to from a square. I bend down to see Hermione as a toddler, Hermione as a child, and Hermione as a "nearly" teenager.

In every single picture she has brown curly hair and a smile that can rival that of Dennis Creevey.

I pick the last of her photos and it looks like it's the most "recent" one. Hermione must have sent her graduation photo home.

Hermione, flushed red from giving the Hogwarts Farewell speech, holds up her diploma triumphantly. Her hair looks exceptional; tamed, in yet still giving an essence of how Hermione really was. We're all wearing our fancy graduation robes; even Ron's was top notch. I'm standing next to her in the picture. Half of the front of my body is exposed while the other is hidden behind her. I'm smiling down at the lovely Hermione while she waves energetically at the camera. Ron is on the other side of Hermione--the formation similar to ours from before. He's not looking straight though. His left arm was pointed at something at a distance and he appeared to be shouting happily. Whatever it was…it must have been entertaining. I see a trace of blond hair at the corner of the picture. I think Luna took the picture.

I, in true form and as an observer, hold my breath when I see Picture Me turning Hermione so that her body was flush against mine.

Then, I watch as I kiss her.

This movement stirs something within me. Colors, flashes, memories…they scour in my mind, but I try to put up my wall again so that I wouldn't let myself get lost…Her laugh, her smile, her kiss…we were young but we knew that we were in love. I thought nothing could stop us.

We were happy, weren't we, Hermione. Even though Voldemort was going to attack soon, we didn't have a care in the world, remember?

I quickly lay the picture frame flat on the nightstand. I'm breathing heavily because I'm remembering again. And I don't like to remember. I try not to remember. I calm myself by taking deep breaths and counting to ten with my eyes closed.

Unexpectedly, I feel something hit the back of my knees and then hear a soft thud. So, naturally, I turn and look down. It took me a few seconds, but I realize that a kid is sitting on the floor.

It's a young boy.

"Hullo?" I ask uncertainly. The boy merely blinks. He looks about 3 or 4 and his age is apparent as he suddenly smiles big.

"Hi!" He continues to sit on the floor and looks up at me as if I was someone really cool.

"Umm...hi," is all I can say. I'm trying to figure out two things. One: Who is this kid? Two: Where did he come from?

"Liam! Where are you?" A woman voice calls for, I suppose, Liam.

The little boy giggles and scrambles to his feet. Without even a word and only with a small smile, he turns and runs away.

I stare after him and then shake my head. Cute kid but still strange.

I finally finished my unpacking and with the boy and Hermione still on my mind, I decide to meet up with the rest. I try not to make an awkward entrance so I tip toe my way down the stairs, hands smoothly descending down the railing.

The sound of a voice catches my ear.

"...been ages! You look so well and I can NOT believe that my little cousin is getting married..."

Frankly, I don't know where I am. Guessing that being wrong may turn out to be right, I turn a corner and Hermione, her mum, and some other woman comes into view. The boy who crashed into me was hiding behind the back of the unnamed woman's knees. When he sees me, he pokes his head out and giggles again. I notice that he has only a few teeth.

"Oh! This must be him!"

Next thing I know, the woman grabs me by the sleeve and pulls me into the women's circle. Her hands move from face to my shoulders and they probably would have headed to my abs if Hermione didn't gently stop her.

"Anne, you're making him uncomfortable. This isn't my fiancé; he's the best man. I think Dad probably pulled Ron away," explains Hermione who smiles and lets go of Anne's hand.

"Oh," Anne whispered, a blush appearing on her cheeks. She bends down and picks up the little boy. "I'm sorry! I just go so excited!"

I smile slightly and wave a hand. Then I point to the boy. "Is he your son?"

Anne smiles widely and embraces the boy. "Yes, this is Liam. Liam meet..." She doesn't know my name so I jump in and say:

"Harry...and I met, uh, Liam already back in the living room. We, um, ran into each other."

"Oh!" Anne smiles then move forward as if giving her son to me. "Liam, say hi."

"Hi!"

His mother laughs. "That's the only word he knows at three."

Liam suddenly giggles. He's a happy fellow, I see. All of the sudden, he jumps into my arms. The only reason I caught him was because I was so close to him. Along the way, my glasses sort of fell off my face.

"Oh," Anne giggles (probably where Liam got it from) and apologizes, "Sorry. He's very hyper."

"That's--er--okay--" The boy is wiggling a lot, and I'm afraid that I might drop him. Finally, he settles so that he's face to face to me. I'm holding him by the butt (but I don't think I'm supposed to do that). His small hands reach out and touch my face. He goes for the glasses, of course.

"Wait, no--" I try to say but he already grabbed them off my face and he's now wearing them. He looks ridiculous. I can't help but laugh. "You look really weird, Liam."

He giggles.

Anne makes a sound and gushes, "Oh, he likes you, Harry. He wouldn't have jumped on you if not."

I'm kind of glad to say that I like him too.

"He looks...big for a three-year-old." Merlin, it sounds like I'm calling him fat. He wasn't at all, but I always imagine three-year-olds to be smaller.

"Yeah. He loves his food."

I say to Hermione whose smiling at her cousins, "Oh no, I believe we have a Ron in the making."

She slaps my arm but she's laughing.

Anne smiles but she's confused. "Who's Ron?"

Right on cue, the subject of our conversation walks into the room followed by Mr. Granger. He smiles slightly once he sees some familiar faces.

"That's him," I say. Liam starts to make sounds and claps, which is unfortunate since I'm the one holding him.

"Wow! A redhead!"

"Yeah...um, and my hair's real," jokes Ron. I finally see my best friend back to normal.

"I never would have thought that you, Hermione, would fall in love with a redhead. When you were younger, you always seemed to like dark-haired fellows..."

And I swear I see Anne glancing briefly at me.

"Well, that was when I was younger, Anne. Now, I've found my man to marry."

I try not to look at Hermione's smiling face when she says that. Liam notices my expression, and so, he puts his hands on my cheeks and looks at me. He says a stream of gibberish, but I know that he's asking, "What's wrong?"

I've heard of studies that say that kids like Liam are best at recognizing expressions. They have some sort of sense that they unfortunately lose when they grow older.

I smile at Liam. I'm falling in love with the little fellow.

"Hey, who's that?" Ron asks, pointing to little Liam. The young boy has his back to Ron and begins to play with the parts of my face again.

"He's my cousin's son so I guess Liam is kind of my nephew," Hermione says.

"Oh, Liam, stop it!" Anne scolded, yanking her son away from me. He tried to mess up my hair—not that I cared.

"No, that's fine, I can hold him," I offer because really, the kid is cute.

He easily accepts my invitation and stretches his arms out to me again. Liam claps his hands together and gives a high pitch squeal. He's looking around at everyone as they look at me and him. I see that Ron is amused because he is smiling widely.

Hermione looks me and she laughs as well, and I see her eyes sparkling.

I smile widely at her. See, I'm happy! Laugh, chuckle, ha-ha, I'm happy!

Ron puts his arms around his fiancée's waist and smiles down at Hermione.

I smile wider. Liam frowns at me.

3. Chapter 3

Hopeless

Viopathartic

A/N: I was almost close to not posting this. I wasn't sure if I should because I thought it was…very bad for some reason. I don't know—my self-esteem has been down. Don't know why, to be honest.

To everyone reviewing and enjoying the story so far, I'm honored!

This chapter reveals a lot in a sort of vague…detached way, but hopefully you can decipher it.

Hope you enjoy it.

"Liam adores you."

I was sitting in the living room, keeping an eye on Liam when Anne tells me this. I laugh; I can't deny it either.

"I think I like him too. He's a cute one, Anne."

Liam has some book of his in his hands. He stares at the pictures, skips the words, and flips the pages. Once in a while he would randomly giggle. I stare at him in fascination. I've never really been around kids. When I was living with the Dursleys, their friends were couples with grown children. And when I went to Hogwarts, I was around kids my age.

It's certainly strange to watch the behaviors of a child like Liam. They find the smallest things the funniest and don't have a care in the world. I envy them.

"You done eating already? I mean, I could have watched Liam…."

I shake my head. "I wasn't that hungry." Truthfully, my appetite disappeared when Hermione and Ron sat down in front of me. "And Liam's no problem."

"Well, thank you anyways, Harry," says Anne.

"No proble—oh!" Liam suddenly fell against me; he stood up by himself, but he was too fast. "Woah there, Liam."

Like a strong little guy, Liam manages to balance himself again and makes his way over to his mum. She smiles affectionately and gives him a great big hug while showering him with small kisses. I'm just content to watch a scene like this. Mother doting her child.

"Do you like children? I mean, I see the way you are with Liam, but..."

I answer quickly, "Yeah, yeah...I do. I've just never had the opportunity to be near them."

"Do you have a girlfriend?"

I turn to her and arch an eyebrow. What a question! Anne blushes.

"Sorry, I like to know what's happening in life."

I smirk. "Right. Well, no, I don't. "

Anne nods in understanding and lets her son go.

"So how long have you known Hermione?"

The questions keep coming and coming.

I squint and do the math in my head. "I'd say...eleven or twelve years?"

Hermione's cousin looks impressed. "Wow, that's nearly half of your life!"

"She IS my life," I find myself blurting. I then process what I said and stutter to cover up my mistake, "I mean...she's practically been around me for nearly half of my life. It'd be weird if I had to live without her..."

Anne looks at me oddly with her head tilted to the side. Liam gurgles and I think I hear his book ripping. His mother takes away his "toy" while asking softly, "And Ron? You guys are best friends too, right?"

I nod. "He was my first friend. Hermione was my second, but both are my best friends."

"That must be nice," commented Anne, "to have a healthy friendship. More than a decade...wow. I can scarcely remember my university friends...it seems so long ago."

"I can't forget them," I shrug. "They had been there for me when I...was struggling and helped me conquer something that plagued me since I was a little tod. I owe them...everything."

"So that's why you're the best man?"

Her question startles me. Why did she suddenly ask that?

"What?" I manage to croak.

"Well, I hear being the best man is brutal. You have to listen to the bridezilla AND the groom."

I smile slightly. If that's all I have to take, I'd be glad.

I feel something tugging on my sleeve and I realize that Liam had abandoned his mother. I laugh and take his hands into mine, which were insanely small. In no time, he'll grow like a tree.

Suddenly, a thought comes to me.

"Hey, what time is it?"

Anne glances down at her watch and says, "It's 8:45."

I quickly excuse myself and hand Liam back to her mother. Before she can even open her mouth, I leave the room.

See, I try and go see Luna every week—mostly on Fridays. Her presence is always comforting to me because I can share everything with her. That used to be the same way with Hermione, but what I usually share with Luna cannot be revealed. It's the reason why Hermione is no longer mine. It's the reason why I suffer every day.

Luna's there to suffer silently beside me.

I quickly change so that could meet Luna at her flat. When I go back downstairs, I find the Grangers and Ron sitting in the living room, watching Liam as he plays with the same book from before. Hermione and her mum are chatting quietly and the both of them turn their eyes on me when I enter.

"Harry, you're dressed nicely," Mrs. Granger comments. She turns to Hermione. "Where's he going?"

"I don't know," Hermione answers and she glances at me again. "It's almost nine, Harry…where could you be heading off to?"

"I feel like visiting Luna, so…" I trail off.

"Luna? Your girlfriend?" Anne asks, interest piquing. Didn't I just tell her that I didn't have a girlfriend?

"Luna? Loony Lovegood! Harry's girlfriend? No way! I mean, Harry would have told us, right?" Ron then narrows his eyes at me. "Right?"

I wish he was feeling jealously rather than anger towards me. That would have been better.

"Luna's a friend of mine. She's all alone with no one to talk to so I sometimes visit her," I shrug as casually as I could.

"Comforting her, eh?"

I glare at Anne. She pretends to not see it as she pulls Liam onto her lap. Liam giggles at this sudden move, and his mom starts tickling him. I soon forgive her for her suggestive comment.

"Anne, lay off Harry," Hermione says and then she focuses back on me. "Does she know that you're coming?"

I nod at her.

"Anyways, I'll be back late so I'll try to enter the house quietly."

Luna has a flat in the wizarding side of London. It is small and easy to afford with her salary from running the Quibbler. I've already memorized its location and was there in a few seconds.

Knock, knock. Luna opens the door for me, smiles slightly at me, and beckons for me to come in. As she walks toward her kitchen, fetching some tea, I see that her choice of clothing is relatively normal today. The pair of jeans she's wearing makes her look slim and petite. Of course, she still has her radish earrings dangling from her ears. She can't be Luna without them.

We pass a few moments in silence, as always. I suddenly feel the need to break the pattern.

"I just came from her parents' house."

"Really?" Her voice is detached. If people didn't know her like I did, they would have thought she wasn't really listening.

"Yeah, I'm staying with Ron and her."

"That's nice," she comments.

"Yeah."

I watch carefully as she pours my tea. Her face is serene and somehow, it comforts me. Her little ways always do, but she doesn't know that.

"How are you?" I ask, for conversation.

"Good. You?"

"Fine."

We're both lying, of course.

"How's work?"

"Work is work."

It doesn't matter who's asking and who's telling. Our answers are always the same, always without meaning.

I take a sip of my tea and she takes a sip of her. I put my cup down and she does the same with hers. We're always copying each other too.

The clock ticks at an intermittent meter as we go about with our tea sipping.

Tick…tick…it's like a song and it's all I hear…tick, tick…

"Do you ever think--"

Here it comes again, I knew it was coming. Knew it. "No."

A pause comes and goes. Luna takes a moment to gather her courage and asks, "Why?"

"So I can go through the day. So that I won't give up…"

"I think about it all the time...in yet, I still get up in the morning," she says to me in her dreamy, detached voice.

"But you're strong, Luna."

"And you're not?"

The answer hangs in the air.

I take a nip of my tea; the small sound is all I can hear because the room is so quiet. We are so quiet in each other's presence, in yet, we still speak to each other. We've learn to communicate in ways so that no one else would catch on to our struggles each day, so that we wouldn't be asked why we never like to double date with Ron and Hermione, why we prefer to be alone rather in the presences of our friends.

I smile at our cleverness and I know that Luna sees. She doesn't comment but stares at me. I know, through years of experience, that she wants to say something right then. I put my cup of tea down with preciseness and slowly push its plate away.

I glance up at her, signaling for her to start.

"He smiled at me the other day," Luna reveals in a quiet voice. Her large, omniscient eyes see me.

"For the longest time, ever since the h-hospital, he smiled at me," she repeated, voice trembling. "We were…standing by the refreshment table yesterday…and I commented on this and that. Suddenly we found something really funny," she gives me a quick smile, "and we started laughing. It was like we were—it seemed as if things were the way it used to be, you know. It was so real and it made me think…a-about how happy…how in love…the two of us—the four of us--"

I reach across the table and squeeze her hand. I don't need to be reminded.

"The way it used to be," she whispered again to me. She brings her other hand up and covers mine with hers. "I keep on remember, Harry. I keep on…wishing that they would remember too…"

She begins to cry softly, ducking her head down and letting her blond, angelic hair fall. She lets her forehead meet our clasped hands.

I close my eyes, depleted and devoid as I feel her tears touching my skin.

Because I know how she feels.

"I'm so sorry, Luna," I mumble. I've always been sorry because it was I who caused all this to her. I was the one who decided to let Hermione go, unknowing that she would eventually fall into the arms of someone else. Someone who Luna loved.

Someone who she loves.

Luna sniffs and lifts up her head. She gently removes her hands from mine and rests them on her lap. There she is, composed again. She always does this. "It's for the best. For their own safety. I wouldn't want anything to happen to Ron or Hermione. We love them, that's why...right?"

I nod.

Then she says, "But..."

My jaw clenches because I know what she is going to say next. I've gotten better with reading Luna since we share a common thing in our lives, a common disaster. She looks up at me and our eyes suddenly connect. When she speaks, she speaks not to me, but my soul.

"I don't know how much more of this I can take."

I don't know how much more of this I can take.

I think the same thing when I apparate back to the Grangers' home. The only light that is on is coming from the kitchen. I manage to find the key that is hidden under the doormat and slip into the house.

On my way through the living room, I see that someone is on the couch, sleeping. For one moment, I thought Ron was sleeping there, but then remembered that he was probably sleeping in Hermione's room…they've shared a bed before, I think…that's how people have babies…

Then, I remember that Anne's husband was coming back from a business trip. The guy gives a loud snore and I try not to snicker. Brings me back to the days where I shared a dorm with Ron.

One by one, weary as I am, I pull off my shoes. My robe follows after and I fold them so that they're neat again. I flick my hand and the drawer near my bed opens.

I place my hand at the back and the drawer and feel it there as it always is, cold and round with a hole in the middle. Abandoned and forgotten underneath a pile of clothes. I still carry it with me and always stash it so that it wouldn't be found. I stand there for a moment with my pants still on while wearing nothing else. I close my eyes and try to remember—even though I shouldn't—how it felt when it was on her finger, full of promise.

As quick as I could, I pull my hand away and shut the drawer with a bang.

I'm tired.

I decide that I could skip one day of brushing my teeth and slowly crawl into my bed. As always, I think of her and only her…her radiant smile, her kindred eyes…and I dream.

Black, gray, red, blue, green, they're all beautiful colors…I'm somewhere else in another place…oh, back at Hogwarts we are, back to where it started…He's finally dead, yes, yes, I killed him, but now, she's lying in bed and everyone's crying. My fault. My fault. If she hadn't...and if she wasn't...none of this would have happened. I see Ron in the bed next to her and Luna, sitting by his side, and holding his limp hand. She's pleading for him to wake up.

 Madam Pomfrey comes in; her face is white like a blanket…Mr. Potter, the spell that Voldemort shot at her…her memories from the past months are gone…I'm by her bed as I always am…I hear that Dolohov has run away and some other bad people escaped as well. She's sleeping, and I see myself pulling off a ring from Hermione's finger and it's the hardest thing I have to do. I cry and cry as if my soul has been taken away, but I realize that I couldn't do anything else because I had done enough. They're going to hurt her. Too much. I don't want to go through it again. I'm thinking that she's going to be safe for awhile. That someday, someday, everything bad would all go away.

I'm standing at the entrance, feeling elated. She's awake! Hermione's awake!

Then I'm sad because I see Hermione and Ron, together, awake and alive. He's holding her hand, and Hermione's still confused. She just woke up. Everyone's happy and they see the two holding hands. They clap, they cry, they smile.

Luna stands by the doorway, gripping the threshold so tight that I have to go to her and whisper. She watches Hermione and Ron and it's like she has given up.

She didn't know. She's shocked. I whisper that I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry.

I should have told her.

The dream ends, and I finally wake up to my nightmare.

If my writing seems too simple in this, tell me and I'll try to step it up.

Thanks for reading.

Viopathartic

4. Chapter 4

Hopeless

Hey, sorry for the delay. I was just finishing up exams and such, and knew that the only way to study was to turn off this damn computer. But now, I am back.

The feedback is great so far! 94 reviews for three chapters? Wow, you guys are awesome!

Alright, I gave you some preview on H/Hr history. This one has a little more on how it came to be. There is not a lot of dialogue, but you'll hear some more from Harry.

I know that a lot of you insightful readers will have plenty of questions. You can ask them, but they will probably answered at the end of the week.

Chapter 4 provides some background. But no worries! School is finally over and I expect to post the next chapter by the end of the week.

CHAPTER 4 (Part 1)

My dream keeps me awake for hours; I lay in bed, staring at my ceiling. For some moments, I forget that I even have a body because I can't feel, I can only see. My eyes follow the fan as its blades turn and turn. Its movement reminds me of a cycle except I can't really find the fan's staring or ending point.

My mind works the same way. The thoughts return and go away, all in a perpetual cycle. Remember how I said that I tried to stop my thoughts? Truthfully, I can't. Even though I attempt to think of nothing, to think of a blank wall in an empty room, colors and patterns find their way onto the wall. They always form one face and one smile.

And then I hear her name in my head, as if a PA system is repeating her name, reminding me of just how beautiful it sounds. Hermione. Hermione. Hermione. My Hermione.

I know things about her, little things that I shouldn't even know about my best friend's fiancée—at least, that's what everyone else would think, but I know her for a reason. For example, her hair looks like a—to put it in a fifteen year old Ron's words—bird's nest, but when you actually touch it, caress it, it feels like silk, so soft that your hand just slides right through it. Hermione uses a special shampoo—a muggle brand. Before we got together, I never knew that she had interests in beauty…things.

She has a little bump on the right side of her finger pad; she said that she held her quills and pencils a certain way and never bothered for a grip. Every time we interlocked our fingers, I felt that little bump—

God, I have to stop this.

I sit up suddenly, and my head spins. My muscles tense and my eyes begin to focus, through the darkness, on the wall that faces me. Suddenly, I'm not tired anymore.

I decide to head to the kitchen; after all, it's a reasonable time to get up for breakfast. I have to pass three doors to get to the kitchen down the hall. The first room belongs to Anne and Liam, the second to Ron (I saw a flash of red hair when I passed by), and the third room is where Hermione is sleeping.

And what do you know? Apparently, my feet stop working when I come to her door.

I find Hermione on her bed and like a bloody stalker, I watch her. Ron is nowhere to be seen and that just makes my morning much better.

I can't help it. I haven't seen her sleep for 2 years. Ever since I killed Him, ever since the two of them woke up, they have been living together in a flat near Etwood Village, another wizarding community. I've been staying at Grimmauld Place. During the war, it was used as the official meeting area for the Order of the Phoenix.

I was so accustomed to having more than 20 people in the same room at the same time that I felt so utterly alone. So I changed the house a bit and made it my own. With help from friends, I made the house a little brighter and less gloomy. I had gotten good comments from others who had visited already.

Her body is curled and her hands are tucked under her head even though there are pillows all around her. If I listen closely, I can hear her soft, breathing sounds.

A force is pulling me towards hers and eventually, I find myself in a chair besides her bed. Being so close to her, despite her being unaware, makes my whole body tingle. It's one of those things I guess.  It is that terrifying, tickly feeling that you feel whenever you're around your crush, and you're sitting so that your shoulders are touching the other person's or your thighs are squished together. It’s innocent, it's pure, and I always feel it when I'm around her.

Even after two bloody years, the feeling won't go away. It just won't. I'm tired of trying to make it go away. I've moved on to hiding it.

I know that she will wake up at any touch so I try to stay quiet as I observe her. I want to touch her, run a hand through her hair or caress the smooth texture of her cheek.

I was selfish. I realized that a long time ago.

There was a time where I was so in love with Hermione, so set on the thought that we would be together forever and that no one would stop us. I was…overconfident about Occlumency and I thought that it would be enough. With Hermione by my side, nothing would go wrong.

I had never thought of what being my girlfriend and my fiancée would mean.

I'm crazy to be doing this. I should just go.

Merlin, what is wrong with my feet today? Nevermind…

I bet some people may even question how I feel towards her.

Maybe…maybe this is just an overzealous obsession. Maybe I was too young to know what love was—only 21 when I proposed! This is obviously not love because a person wouldn't just let the person they love marry someone else!

I know that what I feel for her and what I cannot forget about her is real. I've known my soulmate since I was eleven.

My definition of love has been redefined so many times, but I believe that I have perfected the meaning. When I was three or four, I thought love had something to do with name-calling and sneers. When I was eleven, my look towards L-O-V-E matured a bit, and I learned to associate hugs and smiles with it. As I grew into my teenage years, snogging in the broom closets became a common show of love.

But I didn't truly learn the meaning of love until the month I spent with Hermione in an apartment when I was eighteen. We had just finished Hogwarts, graduated, and signed up for some Voldemort hunting jobs (or we were inducted into the Order). With extensive training, Ron, Hermione, and I managed to move right on to missions, but we were needed in different areas. Ron, Luna, and Neville went to a different area, and me and Hermione went to another (seemed like Hermione had the brains of two people),

Our requirement was to watch a certain house that harbored a family. In that house, the Macanns' home, there was a family who had two magical children, who were well-known advocators against Voldemort—something rarely seen in the wizarding world. Jesse and Alan Macann were 28-year-old twins who worked for the Ministry. In muggle terms, they would have been prosecutors of bad guys. The Order of Phoenix existed to combat Voldemort's next moves, but its purpose was adapted to also protect the people who the Dark Side felt threatened by.

For a month, Hermione and I lived only a room apart from each other.

I'm not lying when I say that it was awkward living with her. I don't think the term "best friend" really meant anything until I sat down with her one night, after she asked me to read with her. I had been unsure—read…me? I answered the affirmative and sat down, feeling a bit down because I thought that I would have to actually read. Instead, she moved me over to the fireplace and we sat there. She pulled out this huge tome and opened to the first out of maybe a thousand pages. I was desperate to distract her from starting what I believed would have been a torturous evening.

"So, why do you like books so much?" I was really astonished by the question—it was bloody brilliant!

Hermione had set her book down and had looked at me oddly. "Why do you ask?"

Rather than answer, I shrugged.

She gazed thoughtfully at the fire while biting her lip. "Well, I guess it started when I was five. My mum read to me The Very Hungry Caterpillar by Eric Carle."

"Wait, I think Dudley read—I mean—listened to it on a cassette before," I grinned.

She smiled back. "I loved it. It was fun to hear…so after some time, I learned the alphabet, and my parents bought me so many books! I used my imagination to work up scenarios from the books I read, and it was sort of my source of entertainment. Then I soon learned the books may be fun but they also teach many things. I read a few encyclopedias here and there—"

"Encyclopedias?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Yes. To you, it might not be your idealistic fun, but too me, I love everything about learning new things."

"I know that. You were always in the library when we were in school," I chuckled.

She ducked her head so that I wouldn't see her blush.

That one conversation started a month of blushes, a month of laughter, smiles, hugs, and…kisses.

We even talked about…Ron. Hermione admitted that she had a slight crush on him, but she told me that it wouldn't lead to much…that they'd be happy for a short time, but their relationship would eventually fall apart over some petty issue. Their arguments were some of an indicator for her…I was glad for that…Ron wrote to me in letters about Luna…of all people!

The two of us watched over each other, but really, there wasn't much danger. Still, we stayed close to the Macanns' home. And to each other.

There were times where I got frustrated with her—her nagging and her incessant worry. There were also moments where I wanted her to stay by my side for a long time. But came towards the third week, I drew away from her.

My feelings changed. I couldn't picture just plain, old Hermione Granger. No. I would picture her with her brown eyes alight with mirth, I'd picture her mouth opening as a laugh escapes, and I'd see myself laughing with her.

I…I didn't know what to do. Those feelings were…daunting.

For awhile, I stayed scared. Was it real?

One night, Hermione had gotten tired of me avoiding our "reading" sessions. She yanked me down (she would have been a good Beater) and with hands on her hip, she glared at me.

I had stuttered, I had stumbled, but I finally told her what I was feeling. She had smiled slightly and suddenly turned shy or embarrassed or whatever…but that changed when she leant down and gave me a quick but tasteful kiss.

Both of us were eighteen and had never experience feelings like we did. Every little thing (a kiss, a hug, or a look) was new and exciting. I'd wake up in the morning and couldn't wait to see Hermione's face.

Was it because I was with her and with no one else for a month? I even…flirted with the idea that it was love. But then…well, anyone would have been scared if they thought that their "love" was not, in actuality, love.

When we finished our missions, we were hesitant to leave. It'd mean going back to a foreign environment and back to other people. We were scared that we had been duped.

Neville had admitted that he had communicated with Ginny for a while, and Ron and Luna emerged in front of us, holding hands. The six of us were back together.

And me and Hermione stayed together. The feeling of her hand in mine was like me being saved from drowning. Hermione was my savior.

So, what is love?

I don't care if it is right or wrong because I believe what I believe. My definition is: Love is Hermione. It's her brains, her beauty, her kindness, and her acceptance. Her existence is like a living form of love. Love can't be seen; some say it's not tangible.

But Hermione is.

The six of us knew that we were all in danger since the fifth year. Any spread of our relationships would danger us even more. So we promised to each other that everyone was merely friends and nothing more.

Now, watching her like this reminds me of the time sitting in the hospital. All I did was watch too. I know that she's going to wake, but back then, when the war just finished, I had no idea. Madam Pomfrey, before rushing out to begin researching after I told her about the spell, had informed me that Hermione was in a coma, and it was uncertain if she would ever wake.

For two weeks and three days, I lived in fear. My fear was not touchable, not audible.

It was funny because when I stared at her, lying comatose in bed, all I saw were tiny scratches from war that were on her face. Nothing else had seemed wrong; in fact, if I wasn't aware that she had been hit by Voldemort's curse, I would have thought that she was sleeping peacefully. But I couldn't deny it.

Something was going wrong in her body. Any spell that Voldemort casted was not meant to be underestimated.

Luna visited Ron as much as she could. Most of the time, she had to sneak in with me, and once she was in, she'd yank off my Invisibility Cloak and immediately rush to Ron's side. No one and literally, no one knew about Luna's relationship with Ron. They had only heard of her from Ginny, but she had always called her "my friend from Ravenclaw".

But Ginny stopped talking…breathing…or living for that matter.

Killed in the third to last battle against the Dark Side with Neville.

They didn't know that they would die with a secret.

Same as my relationship with Hermione. Others never knew about it either. When the six of us were together, what we talked about and what we did would stay with us only. That was why Mrs. Weasley would push me to go back with Ginny whenever we saw her. She knew that her daughter was dating a Longbottom, but she always had this crazy idea of a One Big Happy Weasley Family. And that's why she'd always give significant looks to Ron and Hermione.

The others…they never knew.

And now, they may never find out.

The Ultimate Secret, isn't it?

5. Chapter 5

Hopeless

Viopathartic

Ladies and gentlemen, this chapter is 13 pages.

That is all I have to say.

Chapter 4 (Part 2)

The final battle came unsurprisingly. We were all prepared at first—trained for 3 years, as a matter of fact. People died, killed in torturous ways on both sides, but I shall not go through the details.

What mattered most was my one-on-one with Voldemort.

It actually turned out to be three to one because Hermione and Ron refused to "abandon" me. I wish they hadn't, seeing as them staying behind could have saved the three of us—saved me—from living a false life.

The place that I considered home was nearly in ruins. After we graduated, the school closed down because Voldemort was getting stronger. Hogwarts, the place that was said to be second safest, was no longer a refuge. It turned into a quarters for wizards and witches in the fight—the whole place was for the purpose of healing those injured. In a way, it was our fort.

Voldemort came and the forces brought a storm. It was raining, hard, and thundering with aggression. The winds were ruthless, but that did not stop our fighters from heading outside the forts and battling against His Deatheaters. Inside and out, right and left, the deathly duels occurred all around.

I found him inside the Dark Forest, in the place where I had unknowingly first met him. The three of us entered in a dark, recondite forest, unsure of our fates. Beforehand, the Good side was able to persuade the centaurs to act as allies, and they had gone outside their homes to fight.

We met him in the middle. The trees grew around us in a circle. The moon was our light. Drops of rain fell with vengeance, pounding our bodies relentlessly. Truthfully, I felt none of the harsh weather.

All that mattered was the man who killed my parents…and he had stood in front of me.

Voldemort laughed when he saw Hermione and Ron, defiantly standing beside me. He asked, "What are these fools coming along for? You're only risking their lives, Potter. And…you wouldn't want to lose your precious Mudblood, right?"

I didn't show my surprise, but my internal organs had stopped working when he finished his words. I hadn't felt him for four years; I hadn't realized that he knew. I practiced my Occlumency. I learned the ways of intervening with the mind…how did he know?

Voldemort cackled. "You thought…that you had to feel me in your head in order to know that I was there? Insolent boy, I have my ways to enter your mind. It's apparent that you didn't know."

Hermione and Ron had taken a step forward so they would stand with me in a horizontal line against Voldemort.

"Know what?" I had asked, loudly and confidently.

Voldemort sneered. "That I was able to see your precious memories and encounters with that Mudblood. That I was able to discover your…love," he spat, "for her."

He shot a spell at Ron, who then fell on his back. He landed with a groan.

"Too easy. But of course, it's a Weasley," taunted Voldemort. The Dark sorcerer turned to Hermione. "Now it's your turn."

I hit him with a mild spell, and he stumbled. He turned to me with an angry expression dawning on his face.

"So you want to duel before I kill all of you?"

I straightened up and beckoned for Hermione and Ron to move away. "Actually yes.  A fair one."

He sneered. "Haven't I always been fair," he said sarcastically.

The duel was prolonged. We hit each other with the most powerful spells we knew. My mind acted on autopilot and instinct so I can't really remember much of what had happened.

Finally, the both of us became winded.

It was the perfect moment to act out our plan.

I shot a weak, small spell at him and Voldemort raised his arm to block it off. While he was preoccupied, Ron quickly fired his spell at him.

There were three stages of our spell, the one that we created and perfected in the last three years. Hermione did most of the result, but all three of us had consulted best spell inventors that had ever existed. We worked together, practiced together, and our spell was the final product.

One: containment. Ron used his magic to bind Voldemort in one spot. The latter had not known how to react; it wasn't a spell that he was familiar with because the three of us had created it ourselves. He was too late to block it. Voldemort struggled against the hold of the spell, angrily growling and trying to resist.

Two: Pain.  While Ron still had Voldemort in his hold, Hermione stepped forward and closed her eyes. Then, a blood red beam burst from her wand and she directed it at Voldemort. It was supposed to be three times as powerful as the Cruciatus Curse.

It worked. Voldemort stopped moving, and his eyes bulged open as if he had suddenly awakened from the dead. His fingers began to curl and his mouth was open, a scream stuck in his throat. It was as if all the pain his life, all the people who he killed had taken over his body and gave him a taste of his own medicine. It was the effect of a hundred Cruciatus Curses directed at the same person.

I watched him for a moment as my friends held him from attacking. It knew that my spell was the most crucial since it would drive Voldemort to the graves and right down to Hell.

Hermione removed the Silencing charms and Voldemort's screams rang through the forest. I was sure that the others in battle would hear and would learn that the end was coming soon.

"Harry!" Ron had yelled, his voice sounding strained because of his effort to hold Voldemort in place. The winds blew harder as his forces and Voldemort's forces fought against each other. As if on cue, the rain picked up and stroked us all.

"Hurry, Harry!" Hermione cried, eyes tearing as the light from her curse blinded everyone. "Do it!"

Death. That was the final stage of our created spell. I finally raised the wand that was the brother of my opponent who I was about to kill.

"Bye, Tom Riddle," I whispered to myself and with a deep breath, I focused all of my energy and hate into the final spell.

Of all the colors I expected, white shown from the tip of my wand and blew in the direction of Voldemort. His face had contorted in fear, an expression that did not match him. I used to believe that Voldemort feared nothing, but during that battle, I realized what he was most scared of. His death.

The white that had begun as a narrow beam suddenly broadened into a ray of light that touched all areas of the forest. It headed towards Voldemort at the speed of light and finally, finally, his whole body disappeared from my view.

The three of us stood in circle, holding our respective spells. Our wands began to vibrate, straining as the intense power from the three of us combined as one and proceeded to destroy He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.

Finally, our power turned off abruptly because nothing was left of our target. We lowered our wands together and stared at the crater in the ground that was created from our magic. There was no one there.

Voldemort was dead.

Hermione had beamed at me and Ron gave a loud whoop, and they ran towards me, to give me a congratulatory hug.

I held up my hand from where I stood.

They had halted in their steps, suddenly looking alarm

I felt him. He was still there around us…and he was waiting.

Except I didn't know where.

I remember feeling my arm as it lifted, and I remember the death grip on my wand. But that's just it: I only felt and could not think, could not control my body.

Hermione stood frozen, knees bent and eyes wide. Her hair, which was pulled back before, had escaped its hold and framed her face. She opened her mouth and shouted inaudible words; to me, it looked as if she was merely opening and closing. I couldn't understand her.

Ron was doing the same and he shouted as his face turned red.

But I moved forward, taking small steps at a time. My arm shook as I kept the wand pointed. Hermione backed away from me, wildly glancing around for an escape.

As this went, I was doing those things, but those actions were not controlled by me.

He was doing it.

Remember these words, Potter.  They might be my last, but they're going to kill you.

And you won't be saved.

Last thing I saw was Hermione's memories in my mind. I saw her in the train and she was gazing at two boys—one with a rat and one who looked absolutely clueless. I saw her walking down the steps in the Great Hall and her gaze was on an awestruck me. I saw her smiling and throwing her arms around my neck. I saw our first kiss.

Then her memories closed off as if a fist had suddenly crushed them together.

Ron jumped in front of her, but not fully.

The golden beam from my wand hit the both of them.

I fell into unconsciousness.

Next thing I knew, I woke up in the Hospital to find Hermione and Ron laying in separate beds on both sides of me.

I saw Madam Pomfrey after that and she took care of me. I told her about the battle, about Voldemort in my head, and about the spell that I had unwilling cast at my two best friends. She had never heard of the spell, but told me that she'd get to researching as soon as possible. She also said that my room would be closed off, meaning no visitors or reporters or photographers. I was glad for that.

But there was a visitor that Madam did not know of.

Luna, of course, being a Ravenclaw, found creative ways to enter to room and she'd find Ron in a heartbeat.

One day, she caught Luna in the room but did not say anything. She saw the way Luna paid no attention to her; her worry was only for Ron. Madam Pomfrey let her stay with me.

She then told me that Hermione and Ron would be in a coma until further notice.

I was racked with guilt. I was the one who couldn't learn Occlumency enough to combat Voldemort. I was the one to let Hermione get too close to me. I was the one who held that wand and let Him hurt both of my best friends.

Luna had repeated to me that none of it was my fault.

I didn't believe her.

I only discovered why Hermione and Ron were in comas after two weeks and three days.

Madam Pomfrey had pulled me aside. She didn't waste our time with pleasantries.

"How long have the two of you been engaged?"

"How—" I was surprised that she knew. Hermione and I had cast a charm on the ring so that it would not be noticed.

"When I was scanning her body, I used a detection spell and deactivated your camouflage charm. I suspect Ms. Granger had done it?"

Too shocked, I had nodded.

"How long have the two of you been engaged?" she repeated and this time, I had answered.

"Three months, I'd say."

She nodded gravely.

"Madam Pomfrey…what's wrong with her?" I had finally asked. She wasn't smiling, only asking questions that seemed irrelevant to Hermione and Ron's health.

The nurse nodded, smiling thinly at me. "Hold on. These questions are important. Now…what…would you say is most important to you?"

"Wha—" I was befuddled. These questions…did they even relate to Hermione's condition?

"It's important, Harry," she said more firmly than before.

"Hermione."

And I pointed to her on the bed, "sleeping", as if Madam Pomfrey had forgotten who she was.

"Her. She's most important to me…she-she's the one I love."

"And Hermione?"

"I-I guess I'm important to her."

"And did Voldemort know about this?"

"Yes…I didn't know he knew until he mentioned it during the battle and I can't believe I didn't see it---

Madam Pomfrey interrupted me, "I've found the true consequences of the spell, Harry."

She called me Harry because she felt so sorry for me.

My arm dropped.

"What?"

"I found the spell."

I felt something, but it wasn't happiness because I saw how pale the nurse looked. "I-isn't that good?"

"The spell inveni gravitas is much graver than it sounds. It's one of the most complicated memory spells out there."

"What? Memory—do you mean that they won't remember the battle, the fight?"

Madam Pomfrey ignored me. "Specific memories are targeted with this spell… inveni gravitas roughly translates to locate the importance."

"Madam Pomfrey, I still don’t—"

"Seeing as you were raised muggles, I suppose I should explain in those terms. Have you ever heard…of DNA and genes?"

"Yeah, yeah." I remembered vaguely learning about

"Well, there is a process called gene therapy. The basic purpose of the process is to insert a gene into someone's body cell to treat a disease—"

"Alright, but what does that have anything to do with—"

She had put up a hand to stop me. "Hold on, Mr. Potter," she said sternly. "Let me explain. Do not be so impatient."

I wanted to yell at her that I could not afford to have any patience when it came to saving Hermione and Ron's lives.

But I nodded and waited.

"Thank you," she curtly said. "Now…the extraordinary thing about gene therapy is that doctors are allowed to target certain genes. I'm mentioning this because gene therapy shows similarity with the spell that Hermione and Ron were hit with."

"So…you're saying that—"

"Yes, yes, some of Hermione and Ron's memories were erased. And those memories most likely revolved around those that they thought were important to them."

She let me think for a moment, but I already knew what it meant. "So her memories of me…of us together are gone? And same with Ron and Luna?"

"I believe so," Madam Pomfrey answered regretfully.

No.

"It can't be cured…the memories…they're officially gone?"

"I will be able to wake them up and I can do it now, but yes, Harry…I'm sorry. They won't remember about you and Luna. Their memories were specifically targeted by Voldemort and well, there still might be a chance that they can learn to remember…there have been cases—"

"Wake Hermione up then. I need to talk to her. She can't just forget about our…relationship. She just can't."

But she did. Pomfrey administered the antidote, and Hermione had smiled at me. She knew my name.  She knew that she was best friends with Harry Potter. She remembered some parts of the battle.

Except she had no clue that we were once very much in love and engaged to be married.

I instructed Madam Pomfrey to give Hermione a Sleeping Draught. I didn't want to hear anymore. If Hermione had lost her memory about her love for me then Ron would do the same for Luna.

Luna had waited patiently when I told her. She was by Ron's bed again and it was probably nine at night. Her thumb stroked Ron's hand and she gazed fondly at him.

"Keep it on," she said, smiling slightly at me after I told her that Hermione didn't remember me as a lover but only as a best friend and that I might as well take our rings off."I don't see the point of you taking it off."

"She'll probably freak out, wouldn't she? I mean, it's an engagement ring! She doesn't remember as…as someone who kissed her and loved her."

"Hermione has always loved you," Luna had said with an air of seriousness. "Sure, it's possible that she was attracted to Ron for a short time, but she…got together with you before I got together with Ron. She didn't use you. Did she tell you that she loved you?"

"Yes," I mumbled, "Right before the battle."

"Didn't she say yes?"

"Yes," I gasped, tears in my eyes as I gripped Hermione's hand tighter.

"Then she loves you, Harry. And once they awake, we will merely refresh their minds about our relationship. We'll be able to tell the world about our love for Hermione and Ron. You will marry Hermione and will spend your life with her. I will marry Ron and bear five of his children…and I do hope that I will have at least one girl."

I smiled.

"Keep the ring on. Let her wake up. She'll see the ring and if your love is powerful enough, which it is, she'll remember everything."

Luna waited a few moments, watching me as I watched Hermione sleeping.

"It's a nice ring by the way."

Me and Luna sat there in the Hospital wing, staring at our respective loved ones' body.

"I will," I had decided. I thought my decision was set. After all, Luna did have some strong logic.

"Promise?"

I turned away from Luna and moved a strand of Hermione's hair. I then whispered, "I promise."

I was happy that I confided in Luna. I became…optimistic because of our talk. I listened to her.

Hermione and I would get married and we would live happily ever after.

Dolohov didn't let us.

"Harry," Kingsley Shacklebolt called me one day. I was headed to the Hospital Wing as always, and he managed to catch up to me. He was a key figure in the latest war and head of the Aurors Department.

"What? I have to get back to—"

"This can't wait," he said, gazing urgently at me.

I followed him into an empty room—my old Transfiguration classroom. He told me to sit down; I refused. He wouldn't say anything else until I did what I was told.

"Kingsley, what is it?" I asked, not even bothering to keep my agitation out of my voice.

"Harry, what I am about to say to you is for only you and the Ministry to know."

"What?"

"Dolohov and twelve other Deatheaters have escaped."

"WHAT?" I stood up from my seat and hit my fist against the top of a desk. Kingsley did not even flinch.

"The Aurors can't seem to trace them. Dolohov and the other Death Eaters…they managed to find a way around the bonds that kept them in place."

"You mean to tell me that after a four year war with the Deatheaters, your people have still not managed to perfect your bonds?" I yelled, furious that the Ministry would be so careless and clueless. Merlin, what the hell were they thinking?

"I know it's hard. You just defeated him and...this happened."

"And you're just sitting here and tell me all this! Why aren't you gathering your men to take care of this! Dolohov is dangerous and he might even go after Hermione."

"I know," Kingsley said with a straight face. He pulled something out of his robes and handed it to me.

It was a piece of parchment.

I glared at Kingsley and snatched it out of his hands. I hurriedly opened it and read. The words were written in blood.

SHE'LL BE TAKEN AWAY SOON ENOUGH

"But…he's not serious, is he?"

"Do you…remember how Fred died?"

By now, I've already become used to their random questions.

I nodded solemnly. An unknown Death Eater had killed him in the same battle that killed Ginny. He used a slicing charm on Fred. His body was taken, leaving the Weasley family to mourn for days.

"It's his blood."

I quickly dropped the note.

"Do the others know?"

"No. I expect it'll cause you and the Weasleys some trouble…and given the events that transpired…I've decided to confront you and only you."

"What I ask is that you join the Aurors in cleaning up the mess. To find these Deatheaters before they can attack once more. Voldemort may be gone, but his Deatheaters were people who have the same intent to kill.

He saw my hesitation, but he also knew my weakness.

"Wouldn't you want to protect Hermione after all of this happening to her? To protect the one that you love?"

I looked up at him. He knew too. How, I did not know, but he knew.

It took me awhile, but I finally nodded at him.

"Dolohov is after her, Luna," I later said to her in a monotonous voice. We were back in the Hospital and back to looking after our Hermione and Ron.

Her face showed surprise but it soon turned to panic. "Harry…what are you thinking?"

"I'm thinking that Hermione's still in danger. I'm thinking that she can get killed because some bastard has something against her and me. I'm thinking that this is all basically my fault."

Luna left Ron's side in a hurry and knelt down beside me, "Harry, no. Think of what you are going to let go…the greatest person of your life. You can't, you must NOT, give up! You promised me. No matter what, you would still love Hermione."

It was if Death had taken my heart with two hands and twisted it. I thought she had died that day in the Department of Mysteries. And most recently…god, she's in the Hospital because of the spell that Voldemort had targeted specifically for her.

Now Dolohov is out to kill. If he found out about me and Hermione, he would only do his job faster.

I won't let that happen again. Damnit, not to my Hermione.

"I can't let Dolohov get to her, Luna."

"This is MY decision, Luna!" I shouted at her and she reared back in shock. "I can't lose Hermione! I can't!"

"But you're losing her either way! If you don't let her remember your relationship together, you lose her. And with what you are saying, if Dolohov goes after her, you would lose her too!"

"As long as I am around her, able to see her and talk to her, I'll be able to live. I will be able to protect her."

"But what about…"

"You will help Ron remember. You two will get back together and will live a normal life. My letting Hermione go will not effect your love for Ron and his for you. I-I'll…I will tell Hermione eventually. But if Dolohov is still out there, Hermione and I will just be best friends."

It seemed like the perfect plan. I thought I was being logically. But then again, I was never the logical one, was I?

Madam Pomfrey and I woke Ron the next day. It was early, and I was sure that no one was awake. I immediately wanted to get Luna because I knew that she would be so happy to see him.

I couldn't find Luna so I had to sprint to the Ravenclaw tower.

One of the girls said that Loony went out on a walk.

Translation: to the Hospital Wing.

Of course, she would always visit Ron in the mornings so she was probably already there. I grinned.

I couldn't wait to see her truly smile again.

I saw Luna there, but her back was to me. She stood at the doorway of the Hospital Wing, leaning against the wooden threshold. For some reason, she was separating herself from the crowd of people who had apparently come to see Ron.

But then I looked past her and saw Ron. And when I saw him, I saw Hermione. My heart had leapt. Madam Pomfrey probably woke her up after I left.

God, she's alive and she's beautiful. Though, she looked a little confused.

But…

Why was Ron standing beside Hermione? Why was he holding her hand? Why was everyone looking so happily at their clasped hands?

Luna looked at me. "You did it. You did it, Harry." Her eyes were wide, unbelieving and asking: How were you even capable of doing it?

I hugged her because I wanted to her to not look at me like that—as if I had just betrayed her in unspeakable ways. And I didn't want the others to see my crying. Luna didn't hug me back. Her whole body was stiff and her hand was cemented to the doorway.

If the others—the Weasleys, our friends, and Madam Pomfrey—looked at us, they would have probably that we were hugging of joy!

But they weren't able to hear Luna whisper with words so foreign, "I hate you. I hate you."

And me, crying, "I'm sorry."

Madam Pomfrey had watched Hermione and Ron just like the others had done, but she was the only person who knew that it was wrong.

"Potter, where's the ring?" she asked urgently once she pulled me outside of the wing.

I had wordlessly pulled it out of my pocket. Luna sobbed a bit harder, but she covered her face with her hands.

"Why?"

"Why, Harry…why?" Luna cried softly, but then, me and Madam Pomfrey ignored her. She turned to me, looking both upset and furious.

"If you think that she's better off…you have sorely made a mistake that you might regret for the rest of your life."

Madam Pomfrey was right. I regretted it ever since I saw Hermione's hand in Ron's. I regretted it since they moved in together.

I regret everything.

Before I can even realize it, my tears begin to fall on the ring which I held in my hand.

After, I'm weeping softly.

6. Chapter 6

Hopeless

Viopathartic

A/N: Hello guys and girls! I know that this chapter was a little late, but I have been so busy during the summer! School starts in about a week and I still have to finish some work. So this post might be the last of mine for a while. I have to get adjusted to school first. Then I will decide on when to write and when to post.

This chapter was quickly written so please ignore the grammatical errors and such.

Thank you.

"Harry?"

I awake from my memories, suddenly invaded by another voice. I take a quick look at alarm clock by Hermione's bed and realize that it is close to eight in the morning.

I think Anne realizes the oddity of the scene she was witnessing. "Why are you in Hermione's room?"

I rub my face with my hands, wiping away any traces of tears. Clearing my throat, I quickly turn around and smile. I see that Liam is already awake and he too sleepily rubs his eyes.

"Oh," I blubber, "I was checking if she was awake to talk, but she's not so…" I stand up from my seat and make my way to Anne. "I'll take him." Liam doesn't seem to recognize me because he stares at my face for the longest time. Finally, he smiles as best as a sleepy three year old can manage and stretched his arms to me.

I get a hold of him and run so that Anne wouldn't get the chance to ask me any questions.

At the time, the best choice for me was to stay away from Hermione. Keep my distance.

You don't know what it was like. Honestly, you don't. You may think I am a coward for giving Hermione up so easily. For letting Ron take her away from me. But if you were there, to see how happy the Weasleys were even though they lost nearly half of their family…

They were ecstatic to see their youngest son alive and well and with the girl who they all believed would be the best choice for Ron. They celebrated because after everything, Ron was happy.

The blood on the note reminded me of how much everyone sacrificed for me. A death in return meant one more day for Harry Potter to live. Harry Potter must survive, for he is our savior. No matter what they cost, we will do everything to aid him in the battle against Voldemort.

The Weasleys never even got to properly bury Fred because Death Eaters took him away. As for Charlie, the Reducto curse left nothing for the Weasleys to mourn. Ginny was the only one whose body still remained, and with my heart screaming to apologize, I watched as she was buried in the cemetery specifically reserved for the war.

Hermione and Ron being together brought a new ray of hope and happiness, a calm to the people who faithfully waited for the end of all the fighting. Whenever they held hands, I saw a smile of pure joy on Mrs. Weasley's face. You would never have guessed that she lost a few of her children in the most unforgivable ways. Whenever they shared a chaste kiss, the whole room would towards them and sigh.

What kind of person would then step in and announce, "Uh…nope, Hermione's kind of mine"? Who was I to take away their happiness when they were the ones to give me mine in the first place?

It hurt, you know. Of course.

Hermione had forgotten me. Not voluntarily but still. Ron had forgotten Luna. Not on purpose but still.

A day after Hermione had woken up, after I had done the worst possible thing in the world…I experienced a bout of madness. No one knew of it because I was confined in my room. I had suddenly sat up, believing that I had a plan to keep Hermione safe and away from Ron. I flirted with the idea of locking Hermione up at Grimmauld Place and leaving her with a life supply of books. That way, she'd be safe because my home was protected with multitudes of ancient spells, and only I would be able to see her, being the owner of the place.

However, that would have never worked.

She would have finished every book in three months and demand for new ones. Plus, she's not the type to sit and obey. She'd fight, and there was no denial; I would have certainly lost.

Hermione doesn't know that nearly half of the people she works with in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement are part of my division. I work as an Auror in appearance. I take all the missions that regular Aurors receive, tackle the cases, then come back looking for more. But Kingsley offered me a job and the bastard knew that I wouldn't disagree.

My official job is to be an Auror, but on the side, I have much more authority. I lead a division of more experienced Aurors who could whip someone's arse with a just few spells. Most of them were part of the war effort. Others were sons or even grandsons who decided to follow their relative's footsteps. They act as part time bodyguards and part time coffee brewer/file reporter/assistants.

Truly, though, we are in charge of cleaning up.

That means we chase the bastards who were lucky to escape two years ago and show them that their luck had limits. Thirteen Deatheaters were reported to have escaped. Today, we managed to round up seven. The other six that are still roaming free used to be part of Voldemort's inner circle. Most loyal, most trained, most deadly. Key character: Dolohov.

Some of my Aurors, the dimwitted ones, suggested that perhaps the remaining Death Eaters died. I then reminded them that Voldemort managed to hide out in the Forbidden Forest and feed on unicorns while more than a thousand minors lived in the castle just a few miles away. That shut them up.

Hermione may have employees, but at heart, they all report to me. I'm in charge of everything, but that doesn't stop me from forgetting why I had signed up for this in the first place. It was for her. For her protection.

I kept my distance after the war. When Hermione and Ron asked, I would go out to lunch with them. Of course, I didn't enjoy it much, but I managed to reveal to them my daily life as an Auror. I visited The Burrow on Sundays. Those were the days where everyone gathered to mingle and such.

Some of the newspapers even acknowledged my distance from Hermione and Ron.

A Secret Love Affair Revealed?

A Love Triangle Gone Bad?

I didn't understand. It was like…the longer I spent apart from them, the closer the two became. Was their memory of me getting weaker and weaker because I was no longer there to remind them of my presence?

Sometimes, in my morose pity, I'd sit in my living room and listen to Kreacher's steps as he wobbled along the floor above my head. A small burst of triumph would sneak up upon me and I would think, "I am no longer in love with her!" Then I'd continue on with my reading or something, falsely believing that my feelings for her had finally disappeared.

Then I'd look at the clock and see that not even a second had past and my thoughts would turn to the feeling of Hermione's kissing and the dizzying effect of her eyes…

I had never thought of them to be the couple people would rave about. I had lived with them for seven years. I had listened to their banters that quickly turned sour and the arguments that left the two treating each other with the cold shoulder for months in time! I had never thought that Hermione Granger and Ronald Weasley would reach the time where marriage seemed possible and pregnancy seemed thrilling.

But never trust my thoughts.

After all, I'm still in love with Hermione. My thoughts are usually bitter and in desperate moments, Ron's death is perversely thrilling to me.

Oh, the life that I live.

Harry Potter, the loyal and truest Gryffindor.

When I get to the kitchen, Hedwig is perched outside, holding a string that's wrapped around a stack of envelopes in her beak. She tilts her head once seeing me, and then once I get closer, she lightly taps against the window.

I glance around me, checking if anyone's awake. Once the coast was clear, I approach the window and wandlessly open it, letting Hedwig into the room. Liam delightfully laughs when seeing Hedwig up close. He reaches a hand out as if to pet her, but I quickly stop him; I'm not sure how well Hedwig acts to strangers.

"Hello, Hedwig," I say to her. I had her stay at my office since I couldn't bring her with me. At least she seems glad to see me. "Hopefully you didn't bring me any work stuff."

Hedwig hoots and turns away from me as if trying to deny delivering anything that would upset me. I smile and pet her softly on the beak.

"You better go; Hermione's parents know you, but we also have muggles over too."

With that, Hedwig flaps her wings and sets off into the sky. Liam lifts his arms up like he wants to catch her, but Hedwig teases him and flies higher out of his reach.

I dread reading more reports, but I might as well get it done with. With that thought, I set Liam down into his booster chair, and he happily complies. He begins to occupy himself by playing with his bib which I put on him for mess control.

While he's doing his own thing, I check my mail. Most of the letters were messages from my team. I even got a blank envelope with no return address! It must be from Eli or Wit. I put it aside, deeming it insignificant. One of the men, Silas Trake, had hurriedly scribbled that Hermione was not at work and that he was requesting for back up. I throw the parchment down in disgust. Quick and agile they might be, but cunning was a different story.

"Hi!"

I turn around and Liam looks at me almost expectedly. He wants me to feed him, although I have no clue how…

…what do three-year-olds munch on? Do I give him something healthy? What, I need a manual for this.

I'm going to do what Anne did yesterday. Choosing my plan of action, I head over to the cabinets and search for four multi-color small bowls, and yes, I find them behind the cups.

I place them right in front of Liam, just so that he can't reach it from his chair.

First bowl: Red. Cereal.

Second bowl: Blue. Oatmeal (with spoon)

Third bowl: Green. Macaroni Cheese

Fourth bowl: Yellow. Gerber, banana flavored (interestingly enough, Hermione says it means 'to throw up' in French)

Liam looks serious as he debates his choice of breakfast. When I first saw Anne doing this to him, I thought that giving him choices would just cause more trouble and more cooking. Later, she explained that if they didn't do this, Liam wouldn't eat anything.

"So, what are you going to chose, Liam?" I ask conversationally to the toddler. To the toddler, I repeat. You can just guess my level of insanity. I drop to my knees so that I am eye level with him. Using wandless magic, I levitate all four bowls. Liam won't tell. The toddler's eyes widen and he smiles as his hands reach out greedily. "Red or blue or green or yellow? Or red and blue or green and yellow. Or—"

Finally, Liam grabs the red bowl, effectively spilling some cereal onto the floor.

I made the other bowls sit down, sighed, and then bent down to clean the food up.

Suddenly, Liam starts to jump up and down in his booster seat, not caring that his knees were banging up against the top each time. I grab bowls, just to make sure that they don't fall. What the bloody hell is he getting so excited about?

"There's my little Liam!" A jolly voice calls from the entrance. I pop my head up over the counter to see who it is.

He's probably Anne's husband. He was already dressed in casual jeans and a plain white t-shirt. From the looks of his soaking dirty blond head, he just got out of the shower.

"Ah," he says, once he sees my messy head.

"Hello," I say. I don't think he knows who I am because I've only seen him while he was sleeping.

"Hi…uh, you must be Hermione's guest, right?"

"One of them, yeah. I'm Harry."

"Jacob." We shake hands. "So, making the little guy breakfast?"

"Yeah."

"And what did he choose?" Jacob makes his way to his son's chair and peeks into the red bowl. "Of course, cereal." Liam smiles and uses his small, chubby hands to feed his father some of his food.

"Hello," a voice of an angel says from behind me.

What a morning to wake up too. I feel like collapsing when I see her at the doorway, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. Her hair, uncombed and everywhere…I must touch it.

Restrain yourself, Potter.

"Hi," I breathe. I probably sound like a lovesick fool.

Wait, I am one!

HAHAHA.

Hermione yawns again and heads over to me. I expect her to give me a friendly hug, but Hermione decides to drag her hand through my hair and continue on walking. I stiffen at the sudden touch.

"Really?"

"Yeah."

"You're telling me that no one has ever caressed your hair."

"If you mean caressing like what you're doing, then no. You're the first," I answered, closing my eyes.

"Does it feel good?"

Her hands lightly skimmed my hair and sometimes they'd massage my scalp. It feels too good.

I mumbled my appreciation. "Mmhmm."

I snap out of my internal flashback and glance at Hermione and Jacob to see if they noticed. Hermione yawns as she steps onto the tip of her toes and reaches for a small mug from the cabinet.

Jacob, however, was tracing circles on the countertop. He catches me looking at him and momentarily meets my eyes before bringing them back down. I see a small trace of a smile forming.

He noticed.

Suddenly, a mug was thrust into my face.

I blink before realizing that I was standing in front of the coffee machine. Might as well make it now.

"How do you like your coffee?"

The two of us were at Grimmauld Place, and it was eerily quiet. Maybe it was because Hermione decided to wake me up. When I first saw her in the state I was—groggy and disoriented—I thought she had a nightmare. It actually turned out that I was the one screaming and thrashing around in my bed.

"Honestly, after years of watching me drink coffee—"

"Well, I never took great notice of what you drank, Hermione."

Harsh. Stupid. Dumb. Anymore synonyms?

"2 teaspoons of sugar and a tablespoon of cream. And don't you forget it," she warns, choosing to forget my comment and glaring as if threatening me.

"There. Try it," I said as I handed her the cup after following her instructions. She gave me a smirk.

"It’s a pass."

She takes a small, experimental sip of the mug that I hand her.

"This is perfect, Harry! How'd you know what I like?"

"Honestly," I purposely reply, "after years of watching you drink coffee—"

"Now that's weird," pipes in Jacob who then earns an elbow from Hermione.

"Sorry for him. Harry, this is—"

"Jacob," I say.

"Harry. Good to meet you," he says, shaking my hand again and bowing with mock respectability.

Hermione rolls her eyes. "Anne and him were childhood sweethearts. I'm afraid Jacob is still stuck in the childhood phase."

"So…" Jacob drawls loudly, ignoring Hermione, "Harry, what time did you get in yesterday?"

"Yeah, what time?" Hermione asks, stirring her coffee for the sake of stirring.

"Oh, stop feigning, Hermione!" Jacob teases, grinning. He turns to me and adds, while munching on his own bowl of cereal. "Hermione lost some sleep over you; even though everyone else was asleep, she stayed up until midnight, I'd say."

His cousin-in-law shoots him a look, and I wonder why she tried to hide it from me. "I was only worried!"

Am I pathetic or what…because I feel a flutter in my heart, just because of her words.

"Well, I came home around 2," I answer, hoping my tone was casual and disinterested.

"Where'd you go?" Jacob asks curiously.

The both of them turn their gazes on me.

The heat's rising in the room and it is suddenly hard for me to speak. Her gaze is penetrating, and I'm wondering…what kind of worry is she feeling?

"My friend's house."

"Girlfriend's?" Jacob presses. He grins at Hermione. Bastard.

"If you mean a friend who is a girl, yes," I say, making my tone cool and clear.

"Hmm." For some reason, Jacob sounds unconvinced. "I have never heard of a guy just talking with a female friend and then coming home at two in the morning. Are you sure the two of you weren't doing anything--?"

"Jacob!" Hermione scolds, casting a quick glance in my direction.

"Yes. Talking, that's all we did. Hermione knows that Luna is just a friend." I turn to Hermione who has her arms crossed.

I'm getting the feeling that I'm trying to defend myself too much.

"Okay, fine, you caught me. We had sex, alright."

Jacob bursts out laughing, effectively spitting particles of food onto Liam who then screeches.

"Harry!" Hermione's blushing.

Jacob starts laughing and Hermione's turning red again.

"Hermione, honestly," I say to her overdramatically as I put a hand on her shoulder, "do you think I'm that stupid to have sex before—"

"I want to set some boundaries," she stated matter-of-factly. I cock an eyebrow and turned away from Hedwig who I was feeding. She hooted in indignation.

We were in my bedroom at Grimmauld Place. The both of us and Ron were on a mission together—Order business. We were supposed to head out in two days.

"Boundaries…" I pretended to think. "I'm afraid it's not in my vocabulary."

"Well, learn it. We will not have sex until we are legally married."

"Legally? Then how can we get illegally married?"

"There are ways…but that's not the point. Sex is not an option for our relationship right now."

"Then we shall break up," I said with mock seriousness.

Hermione suddenly frowned and I laughed at her reaction.

"I'm only kidding! But we're eighteen. Adults," I said, pulling her by the waist so that she was flush against me.

She smiled sweetly and gave me a small kiss. "Harry, if our relationship in—oh, I'd say five years—is as good as it is now, we will have plenty of time to experiment and to do whatever."

My hand slides off her shoulder, and Hermione falls silent.

That was the wrong thing to say; she's having a damn baby and I--why, Merlin, did I say that! Stupid. Go on and jump off a cliff, Harry.

I glance briefly at Jacob, who pretends to take no notice as he's feeding Liam, and then I desperately try to get Hermione to look at me.

"Hermione…"

She gently shakes my hand off her arm. "I'm fine…"

Before I could even begin to apologize to her, the whole house wakes up.

"Hey, honey. What's going on?" Anne walks into the room, followed by Mr. and Mrs. Granger and Ron.

"Harry and some girl named Luna had sex last night."

"WHAT?" Every women (other than Hermione) and Mr. Granger (I think I hear Ron) yell incredulously.

"Kidding," Jacob and I say but me with less enthusiasm. I swear—that sentence just came out. I didn't mean it, Hermione, really.

As she walks to greet her son, Anne slaps her husband's chest.

Hermione hops down from her stool, and along with feeling guilty, I'm amused to watch her jump such a height. The table is pretty high. "Time for introductions!"

"Jacob. You know Mum and Dad. This is Ron—"

The two men shake hands, and then Hermione turns to me again, but before she can open her mouth:

"I've already met Harry. Seems like a nice guy to marry, Hermione," Jacob teases, winking at me.

Every movement stops. Liam, noticing the change in air, stops throwing his food onto the ground.

Huh. I'm actually kind of proud that people mistake me for Hermione's boyfriend/fiancé all the time. But then I see Hermione's horrified expression (as if being engaged to me was so terrifying) and my pride just falls…splat.

Anne hisses at her husband, "Oi, wrong guy!" She gives me The Look again. I'll save some time by referring to the odd, searching look that she has been giving to me lately as The Look.

Jacob winces from his wife's tone, notices that Hermione's blushing, that Ron's glaring at me (great!), and begins to apologize profusely, "Shite. I always do this; you know, assume when I shouldn't even be assuming. Sorry."

"I thought," he points directly at me, "he was… well, because of the way Harry was looking at…er... again. Sorry."

He turns to me and grimaces.

I shrug. As if I don't care. Pssh, I don't look at Hermione in any way. What was Jacob on? Bastard.

"So…" Anne drawls in a way that's similar to her husband, "since we're here, learning each other names, we want to learn something new. Tell me, Hermione, how was the proposal?"

Hermione blushes and looks over at Ron, and Anne giggles at her reaction.

…I notice that the knives are over by the sink. How many steps will it take to get there?

Jacob sighs, distracting me and turns to me on his stool. "You know, when I met Anne six years ago, her giggle was something I fell in love with first. Now...it's just bloody—"

"Finish that and you and I will get a divorce," threatens his lovely wife, wagging her slender finger. But I guess this was some game of theirs because Jacob merely pulls on her finger and kisses it.

Hermione, who was waiting to answer Anne's question, begins, "Well, we were at The--I mean, Ron's old house and it was a get together party. Some guests were coming back from their honeymoons or distant jobs and schools so everyone met up at one location. Everything was going fine; Ron was eating as always ("Hey!") and me and Harry were playing with the little ones."

She casts me a brilliant smile, seemingly forgetting my previous accidental comment, and I return it with one of my own. I distantly feel Liam crawling onto my lap; his mum wasn't paying attention to him so he left her.

"Suddenly, Ron taps me on the shoulders while I was holding one of the tods and he gives me this nervous, shy look. I only realized what he was doing when he got down on his knee and whispered—"

"Hermione, will you marry me?" My god, I was so damn nervous. I looked down at my hands which were visibly shaking as they held the ring.

I couldn't believe that I actually persuaded her to come to the Room of Requirement. She had been cooped in that library for so many days. We had returned from another Voldemort tracking mission and Hermione had gone straight to researching mode. But now she was mine. Dinner was perfect, the environment was perfect, and then, I was on my knees. 

We were not dressed spectacularly. Our date was more of a secretive escape. Ron and Luna were covering for us. I was glad that I could count on those two lovebirds.

Sometimes, when I was not around her or my friends, I wondered when this—the war—would all end. It seemed like it was going to take forever to defeat Voldemort's supporters and get him.

But when I had Hermione with me, I thought otherwise. It was as if she was there to keep me generating positive thoughts. That was one of the reasons why I' was holding a ring for her. Ron helped me pick it out and Luna tagged along. I described it and they hunted it. With teamwork, we had found the perfect one.

I believed that we stayed in the same position for more than five minutes. Hermione was dressed in a fitting pair of jeans and a decorative blouse. They were a bit disheveled since we had…er…talked before this. Her hair was bunched up in a bun, but nothing could have stopped her hair from letting loose. Her gaze was fixed on the ring, which, I must say, was probably the prettiest ring ever.

"Are you—"

"Serious? No, not really. It's a joke, of course," I nervously said. I was restraining my body from collapsing because I wanted an answer before going unconscious.

"It took a moment because I was so shocked…but finally, I said—"

"Yes! Yes! I can't—oh, Harry—" and she grabbed my face with both hands and—

"—kissed him. But for some reason, I felt like I've already been proposed to…" Hermione trailed off thoughtfully. Everyone looked at her oddly.

"Hopefully not!" Ron says and everyone laughs.

"No, Ronald," Hermione says in an affectionate voice, "I'm positive that you're the only man to propose to me."

I laugh bitterly.