If I Don't Tell You Now

Disclaimer: You know the drill: everything Potter belongs to the brilliant Ms Rowling.

If I Don't Tell You Now

Chapter 1: The House

Harry Potter stood outside the little country house and stared up at it, running his hand through his eternally messy mop of black hair. He adjusted his glasses, trying desperately to find the courage to go up and knock on the plain, crimson door, feeling both anxious and afraid of who lay beyond it.

This house had become like a whipping boy to Harry. He had known the pain caused by what lay inside the house, long before he knew the house itself. But ever since he was made aware of it's presence, the house became the focal point of his suffering. It was easier that way, easier to direct his feelings of anger and sorrow at a house, than to deal with them properly. But for Harry, these feelings were becoming evermore unbearable.

At first he'd ignored the pain. He'd lied to himself about what he felt, and tried to move on with his life. For a time, it had almost worked; he'd almost believed that lie himself. But, all too soon for Harry's liking, the indelible truth began to slowly make its presence felt, thereby crushing that lie until Harry couldn't even comprehend how he could have fooled himself with it in the first place. Having to face the reality came as a real blow to Harry. That lie was the only thing that offered him respite from the pain that had long since become the only constant in his life.

But Harry, who had known far more than his fair share of hardships in his twenty-seven years, felt that he could deal with his suffering, as he had dealt with every hurdle that had come his way. Except that Harry had never before had to deal with his problems on his own. For his whole life, for he truly believed that his life only began when he came to Hogwarts, he had had two people who meant the world to him. They had helped and guided him through every trial he'd ever faced. They were as vital to him as the air that he breathed.

However this pain that he felt was not something he could share with them. In fact, they were inadvertently and unknowingly the cause for his suffering. And, slowly but surely, it had caused him to retreat into himself, and pull away from their friendship, causing Harry to feel as though he were drowning, but had no voice with which to cry out for help.

He shivered at the thought, and hugged his robe tighter to him in a vein attempt to ease the cold he felt that came not from the cool evening, but from within himself. Suddenly and painfully, Harry felt not as though he were standing in front of that brick house on a chilly Devonshire evening, but rather that he was back in Privet Drive, in a small cupboard under the stairs.

He took a step toward the house and paused, subconsciously gritting his teeth and furrowing his brow. He shook his head, slightly embarrassed at his cowardice, and sighed. Then he slowly made his way towards the door of 7 Trafford Lane, and knocked.

Chapter 2

Harry immediately heard sounds of life coming from within the house; a clattering of dishes, a quick laugh, followed by the same voice issuing an exclamation of what Harry thought sounded like mock pain.

Suddenly, the door opened, and Harry found himself face to face with a man the same age as him, though slightly taller, and very lanky, with flaming red hair. The man was still laughing softly as he massaged the back of his head.

"Harry!" he exclaimed warmly, his smile widening as he pulled Harry into a bear hug.

Harry patted the man's back. "Ron," he smiled. "It's great to see you."

"You too, Harry, you too. Come in, please. How've you been? What've you been up to? It seems like ages since we last saw you!" he spoke quickly, still grinning happily.

Harry's smile faltered just slightly, but Ron, who was closing the front door, didn't notice. "Well, I'm fine," Harry said as he moved into the living room. "I've just been a bit busy lately. Had to catch up on a lot of work at the office." Harry turned his gaze to the ground, and cleared his throat. "Where's ...?"

"Hermione, there you are!" Ron said cheerily to the woman who had just entered the room. "Look, Harry's just arrived!"

Harry, still with his eyes averted to the floor, tentatively looked up, and was immediately met by Hermione's tender gaze.

"Harry," she said softly, as she quickly closed the distance between them and wrapped her arms tightly around him. Harry sighed into her embrace, and closed his eyes.

Hermione pulled away and put a hand on his cheek. She stared into his eyes, and spoke quietly, but emotionally. "I've really missed you, Harry."

He surveyed her briefly. She looked as beautiful as she always had, with her deep brown eyes, and wavy dark hair, which framed her face perfectly. He smiled down at her, the touch of her hand still on his cheek spreading warmth throughout his entire body. "I've missed you too, Hermione."

For the first time that evening, she smiled at him and enveloped him in a hug once more.

"So Harry, I hope you're hungry, 'cause I think Hermione's made enough food for at least six people," Ron laughed.

Harry pulled himself away from Hermione's arms and looked briefly at the practically forgotten Ron, noticing Hermione doing the same. She was turning slightly red and had an odd, shy smile on her face, as she started fidgeting with her hair.

Harry chuckled. "Don't worry," he said to them both. "I'm so hungry I could eat a hippogriff."

Ron grinned once more, and clapped him on the back. "Excellent. Let's go to the table then. I'll start serving, that is, if Hermione didn't break all our dishes." He began to laugh again. "She practically jumped out of her skin when she head you knock on the door. Dropped some plates she was carrying," he said, still laughing.

Hermione scowled, blushing red once more, and hit him playfully on the back of the head.

"Ouch," Ron cried, his eyes grinning despite his efforts to look hurt. "Why do you keep hitting me?"

"Because you deserve it," Hermione retorted, her own eyes shining in jest. She looked at Harry, apparently wishing to explain. "I just wasn't expecting you just yet. The knocking frightened me a little. But no harm done," she smiled.

"Tell that to the dishes," Ron mumbled, as he shot behind Harry to avoid another smack.

Hermione put her hands on her hips. "Are you so determined to aggravate me tonight, Ronald Weasley? Because you're getting off to a very good start."

Ron came out from behind Harry and hugged her closely. Harry found himself quickly looking away. "No, Miss Granger," Ron grinned evilly down at her. "I'm not determined to aggravate you tonight. I'm determined to do it all the time. After all, what else are future husbands for?"

Chapter 3: The Talk

Hermione shot a quick glance at Harry, before clapping Ron on the back of the head again.

"Ouch!"

"Despite what you might think Ron, becoming my husband does not give you the authority to act like a jerk all the time." She looked at him with pursed lips. "You already did that as my friend, so if getting married doesn't change that, then what's the point?"

She walked casually away, over to the table and began dishing out the food.

Ron's smile faltered slightly, as he glanced first at Harry, then back at his fiancée. "Hermione, I'm sorry, okay?" he said coming up behind her, and wrapping his arms around her waist. "But is everything alright?" he whispered so that Harry, who was trying his best to pretend he was doing something other than listening, could not hear. "I mean," Ron continued. "You've been a bit short with me lately. Always snapping at me, for no real reason. I know I annoy you sometimes." He stopped when he saw the amused look on her face. "Okay," he conceded, chuckling. "Most of the time. But since we got together, I think I've been a lot better, and you've been a lot more tolerant of me on the odd occasion that I have slipped back into my irritating school boy ways. But lately, ever since we got engaged..." He frowned. "I guess I just want to make sure everything's okay; that we're okay. Are we?"

Hermione turned around in his arms so that she was facing him, and glanced over at Harry, who was thumbing through a book. She looked up at Ron, not quite meeting his eyes, and sighed. "We're fine, Ron," Hermione paused and looked briefly at her hand that was resting on his chest. "Nothing to worry about."

Ron smiled back down at her. "Good." He turned around. "Harry, you can put down the book now. World War III narrowly averted," he smirked.

Harry adjusted his glasses, and looked across at Hermione. "Lucky."

Hermione looked away from his gaze and cleared her throat. "Okay, boys, dinner's ready."

"Brilliant," Ron said, planting a quick kiss on her cheek, before sitting down at the table.

Harry pulled out a chair and offered it to the still-standing Hermione. She smiled at him. "Thanks, Harry," she said, taking her seat parallel to Ron at the circular table.

Harry returned her smile. "You're welcome," he said as he sat, creating between the three of them a triangular shape with himself as the vertex.

Harry picked up his cutlery and began to eat the food, roast pork and vegetables, which Hermione had prepared.

"This is delicious, honey," Ron said to her between mouthfuls. "Back when we were at school it didn't even occur to me that the gift you had for brewing potions would transfer to food and work in my advantage later on," he said, making Harry and Hermione laugh with him.

"Ron's right. It really is incredible, Hermione," Harry said, still smiling.

Hermione shrugged and rolled her eyes. "What can I say? I do my best," she looked sideways at Harry, holding his gaze for a moment, and then at Ron, smiling slightly at each of them. "But thank you both. I'm glad you like it."

After dinner

"Listen, don't you two worry about that. I'll clean everything up."

Hermione looked quizzically at Ron, surprised by his very infrequent offer to wash the dishes.

"What?" he said, noticing her stare, and smirking back at her. "You're acting like I've never offered to clean up before?"

Hermione narrowed her eyes at him. "Okay, who are you and what have you done with Ron?"

Harry and Ron laughed. "Hey, this is all me, baby," Ron said, trying to sound like Barry White, and causing both Harry and Hermione to erupt in laughter. "Seriously, we haven't seen Harry in a long time, and I thought you'd like to talk to him alone for a bit." Ron's smirk returned. "Don't worry, I'll steal him away from you later while you make the desert."

Ron patted Hermione fondly on the head, as he began clearing the dining room table of the plates and leftover food.

Hermione watched him go and then turned to Harry, smiling. "Do you want to go and sit on the porch?" she asked.

"Sure."

Hermione took her jacket from where it was hanging on the back of the front door and put it on, before heading out into the chilly night. Harry followed her, closing the door behind him. Hermione made her way over to a bench on the far end of the porch and sat down, patting the spot next to her. Harry made his way over and sat down next to her.

They sat in silence for a few moments.

"You've been awfully quiet tonight Harry," Hermione began cautiously. "Is there something the matter?"

Harry looked into her eyes and saw concern reflected in them. He could tell she was worried, and wanted to know if she could help him, but was not going to press him to reveal anything he didn't want to. Hermione just watched him as she waited patiently for an answer that Harry didn't really want to give.

"Well," he began finally, not even knowing how he was going to continue. "I'm not really sure, to be honest."

Hermione looked at him, confused, but she did not push him, as he knew she wouldn't.

Harry sighed. "I've been having some ...personal problems, for a very long time now"

Hermione reached out to his hand, and held it in her own. "Harry, you know that if you ever need to talk to Ron or I, you can. You can come to us about anything, at anytime. You're the most important person in..." she stopped herself. "... our life."

Harry looked down their interlocked hands. "Thanks, Hermione. I know I can come to you, and believe me, I wanted to." He looked up into her eyes. "It's just that I'm not sure you, or anyone, can help me out this time."

Hermione squeezed his hand, and smiled warmly. "Why don't you try me?"

Harry chuckled briefly, and then sighed. "Okay..." he began, terrified beyond belief. "You see, it's about a girl..."

"Mr. Potter," she began, still squeezing his hand and laughing softly, though the laugh did not seem to reach her eyes. "It was strange enough to have to reveal this little secret to Ron in our fourth year, but even stranger to have to tell you now, at twenty-seven years old. You see, believe it or not, I myself am a girl, and therefore may be of some use to you."

Harry laughed again. "Oh, I've always known you were a girl, Hermione." He stopped laughing and bit his lip, as Hermione watched his face intently, waiting for him to continue. "Well, I know this girl. Only she's with another guy, and they're really happy. And, honestly, I'm happy for them. But you see, she's the most beautiful, amazing, intelligent, caring and loving person I've ever met." He looked at Hermione. "And the thing is ... I'm in love with her."

Chapter 4: The Kiss

"Oh," said Hermione, looking down at their still clasped hands, before easing out of his grasp and walking over to stand by the balcony, her back to him. "I'm sorry, Harry. That must be terrible."

Harry sighed, and began wringing his hands. "Yeah, it's been pretty unbearable. I've been in love with her for ... well, it seems like forever. But I was too thick to realise. By the time I did ... I'd lost any chance I might've had with her."

"Are you sure?" Hermione asked dully, staring out at the dark and empty street.

"Yeah, like I said, she's with this guy and they're really in love," Harry paused, wondering how much further he dared to go in the conversation, but decided to ignore the part of his mind that was screeching at him to stop. Now that he'd started to explain his heart, as he'd wanted to for so long, it seemed that he'd lost any control, or desire, to stop. "The worst part is that the guy she's with, well, he's a friend of mine. I feel like I'm betraying him, just by feeling the way I do. And it's killing me."

Hermione turned around to face him, her eyes overbright. "Don't say that, Harry. Please don't ever say that. You're not betraying him. You haven't done anything about your feelings, have you?"

"No," Harry said, shocked at the thought. "I wouldn't, I couldn't. Not ever," he finished, defeated.

Hermione turned away from him again. "Maybe you should," she said quietly.

"What?"

"Harry, if you really love this woman, you owe it to yourself, and to her even, to tell her. Let her know how you feel. If you keep it inside of you for the rest of your life, without saying anything..." her voice hitched for a moment. She composed herself. "You just need to tell her. The worst that can happen is that you confirm what you already believe. But you need closure, Harry, so that you can move on. And you're never going to be able to if there's still a part of you that believes there's a chance."

"I hear what you're saying, Hermione," he said to her back. "But you don't understand. I'd be risking a lot. My friendship with her boyfriend... and my friendship with her. I couldn't bare to jeopardise that."

"What other option do you have, Harry?" Hermione questioned, rather shrilly, finally facing him again. "Is their friendship worth more to you than your own well-being?"

"Much more," Harry interrupted, staring deeply into her eyes. "So much more."

Hermione looked at him, at a loss, searching for something to say. "I just hate to see you like this... I've always hated to see you like this. When you're in pain, or in trouble..." Her shoulders began to shake, as her chin began to tremble, and tears welled up in her eyes. "And I hate not being able to help you."

Harry was by her side in an instant, wrapping his arms around her. "But you do help me, Hermione. You help me in ways that you don't even realise," he pulled away from her enough so that he could look into her eyes, but still keep his arms firmly around her waist. "You've always been there for me. You've always believed in me, even during times when I didn't believe in myself." Harry found his voice breaking, as he said the things he had needed to say to her for years. "You're the only one ... you're the only one who's always ... who's always loved me like that, unconditionally. And it's meant more to me than you'll ever know."

Harry wiped the tears from her cheeks, as she gazed up at him, seemingly speechless for the first time in her life.

So close now, he tried to go on. "Hermione, I..."

But suddenly, Harry felt that he couldn't continue. He was staring at her lips, his own parted slightly, when he found himself leaning closer to her. Hermione's eyes widened, and then closed softly, as she too leaned forward.

Harry's heart raced as he realised what was about to happen. He was only inches away from her lips now. His mind begged for him to stop, as all the possible and terrible outcomes of this one moment sped through his brain. Harry, it seemed, wouldn't, or couldn't, listen.

As their lips met, delicately, Harry became hyperaware of every part of her. The taste of her lips; the smell of her hair; the way the skin of her forearms felt under his touch. After a moment, Hermione pulled away and looked up at him in awe. She lifted her hand and, after a moment's hesitation, placed it cautiously on his cheek, then letting her fingers graze his lips. Everything seemed to happen in slow motion as Harry once more leaned towards her, to close the distance between them.

"Okay, guys, time's up!"

Harry and Hermione were jolted out of their trance-like state by the sound of Ron's booming voice on the other side of the door. Harry looked down at her, before stepping quickly away, moving towards the bench. Hermione seemed in shock, as she walked quickly to the railing of the balcony, facing the street, just as the front door opened.

"Well I can't let you have him all to yourself tonight, Hermione," Ron stated jokingly, walking out onto the porch. He went and stood by Hermione, and kissed her quickly on the cheek. The he turned to face Harry. "So what have you guys been up to?"

Chapter 5: The Reality

Harry cleared his throat. "You know," he answered Ron. "Just catching up." He looked across at Hermione, who still had her back to him.

"Okay, well, my turn," said Ron, walking over to sit down next to Harry.

"Okay then, uh, I'll be inside doing, er, something," said Hermione uncomfortably, before rushing into the house without a backward glance.

Ron sighed, rubbing his forehead as he watched her go. "Harry, did she say anything to you about, well, anything?"

"What?" Harry asked, swallowing.

"I mean, was she acting strange, at all?"

"Ron, what are you talking about?"

Ron sighed again. "Harry, I need to talk to you, man to man. About Hermione."

Harry looked at his hands. "Sure Ron, of course."

Ron stood now, and walked to the spot Hermione had previously occupied by the railing. "I think there's something wrong; with her, or with us... or maybe both, I just don't know. I mean, we've been together for almost six years now. We've had our ups and downs, like we used to as friends and like most couples anyway. And, of course, we've had good times too, great times even," he smiled fondly. "But there was always something... I can't even put my finger on it, Harry." Ron thought for a moment. "But it's like there's always been something... something not quite right. Like, it feels as though she's never completely herself with me. Like there's still a part of her that I just can't get to, and it's keeping us apart. I thought that it, whatever it is exactly, would change when I proposed..."

"Is that why you did it?" Harry interrupted, looking startled. "Propose, I mean?"

"What?" Ron asked, confused. "No, no. I love Hermione, you know I do. And I asked her to marry me because I love her. What I mean is that, I thought this... this distance would disappear if she knew, really knew, how much I love her, and that I want to spend the rest of my life with her. I thought she'd be more open, especially with us living together." He sniffed, and ran his finger through his hair. "For a while there, it did work, when I first did it. For a good few weeks, we were closer than we'd ever been. I felt like we were really, truly together, for the first time in our relationship. I mean, you remember what it was like for us before? When we were at school, I kept dancing around my feelings for her, never letting her in the way you did, always keeping her at arms length. I thought I'd wrecked any shot I might've had with her. Hell, I thought I'd wrecked any shot of a true friendship with her! But then, when I got the stones to tell her how I felt, and we got together... I thought the barriers we'd erected between each other all those years earlier would come down." He looked across at Harry. "But they never did."

Harry broke eye contact, and looked at his feet, not knowing what to say and feeling more horrible and uncomfortable than he ever had before.

"I really need your help, Harry. Things with Hermione are back to the way they used to be, maybe even worse. She won't let me in. She hasn't seemed truly happy in the longest time. You know, just last week, I found her sitting out here," Ron said, pointing to the bench Harry was seated on. "She was looking through her old photo album, with pictures of us from school, and she was crying." He put his face in his hands and rubbed. "She was crying, and I have no idea why. I asked her, of course, but she just said it was 'that time of the month', and she was emotional. It wasn't the truth, though, I could tell. To be honest, that's part of the reason I asked you to come over."

Harry looked up, sharply, with a questioning glance.

"It wasn't the only reason, I did want to see you myself." Ron chuckled, misreading Harry's expression. He quickly sobered. "But you and Hermione... well, you've always been so close. Despite, or maybe because of, the not-so-recent change in our relationship, I think she still feels more comfortable talking to you. Look, I'm leaving town in two days. I'm going to visit Charlie in Romania for a week, but I don't want to leave her alone to stew over whatever's wrong. I was wondering, hoping, that maybe you'd stay with her while I'm gone? Take care of her; make sure she's okay, and maybe even... talk to her; see if she'll tell you what's wrong."

Harry, who had been shaking his head, now spoke up. "Ron, I think it's a really bad idea for me to get in the middle of this. You should talk to her yourself..."

"But she won't talk to me!" Ron cried. "Aren't you listening? That's the whole problem!" He paused for a moment to take a deep breath, and continued more calmly. "Look, even if you don't want to talk to her about this, I still want you to stay here with her. If she's left alone, I'm worried that she'll have too much time alone to think. That she'll start thinking things that I really don't want her to think. I'm worried that she'll decide to..." Ron breathed deeply, gripping the balcony railing tightly. He looked at Harry, his eyes glistening slightly. "Please. Please, Harry, I'm asking you to do this as my friend, and hers."

Harry sighed, and walked to the other side of the porch. He glanced into the window, and saw Hermione sitting down on the staircase, her head in her hands. Harry looked away. "All right, Ron," he whispered, defeated. "I think this is a really bad idea but, all right, I'll do it."

Ron let out a huge breath he'd been holding, and smiled. "Thanks, Harry. You're got no idea how much this means to me. You're the best friend a guy could ask for."

Harry, who felt suddenly and violently nauseous, issued a shaky breath. "Look, when are you leaving, Ron?"

"First thing Tuesday morning."

"Okay," Harry said, starting quickly towards the porch steps, desperate to leave. "Tell Hermione I'll be hereafter work."

"What?" Ron looked confused. "You're not going now, are you? We haven't even had desert?"

"I'm not hungry, Ron, I've started feeling a bit ill. And I need to get up early tomorrow." He began making his way down the stairs, holding tightly to the rails, feeling as if he were about to faint.

"Aren't you gonna say goodbye to Hermione?" Ron asked, as Harry had reached the path.

Harry looked back at him, and the house he shared with Hermione. He could see her standing in front of a top floor window, looking down at him. He forced his eyes back to Ron. "If I don't speak to you before you leave, I hope you have a good trip. See you soon."

And with that, Harry began walking as quickly as he could, away from 7 Trafford Lane.

A/N: The song, "If I Don't Tell You Now" that I have used as my title makes an appearance in this chapter. But, just like everything Potter, the song is not mine. It is sung by the musical God that is Ronan Keating, and was written by one of the greatest songwriters of all-time, the amazing Diane Warren.

Chapter 6: The Decision

Harry had walked for about an hour, his thoughts as jumbled as a yard sale, before gaining the presence of mind to remember that he could simply leave the way he had arrived, and apparate home. Feeling stupid, ill, scared and confused, he heaved a great sigh of relief when he appeared outside his flat a moment later.

Making his way through the door, he plopped down in his couch, grateful to finally be away from the horrible mess he had created. He sat, trying his best to relax and think of anything but Hermione and Ron. However ironically, in Harry's opinion, despite all his efforts, he could think of nothing else.

How could he be so gun-ho about his feelings, practically laying them on a platter? How could he accept Ron's plea to stay with Hermione while Ron was away? And, foremost in Harry's mind, how could he be so stupid as to kiss Hermione? Outside her own house, no less. The house she shared with Ron, Harry's own best friend.

Harry, at this moment, hated himself more than he had ever hated anyone. His abhorrence at himself after Cedric and Hagrid died was powerful, and still haunted him daily. His disgust of Voldemort and Pettigrew bordered on toxic. But this detestation he now felt for himself was almost all consuming. He had knowingly betrayed his best friend. In Harry's mind, it was one of the worst crimes imaginable. And Harry knew that he could never right that horrible wrong.

Yet there was one other thought, aside from self-hatred, that was plaguing Harry's mind. It was Hermione's reaction that was really eating at him. If she had pushed him away, yelled at him, or even cursed him after he had kissed her, he would know where he stood. He would do the best he could to stay out of their lives from then on, and go back to hating himself and feeling isolated in peace.

But unfortunately, that wasn't what happened. Hermione had kissed him back. Harry was sure that he, in some euphoric state, had not imagined that. And now he had no clue what to think. Why did she kiss him back? Was she so caught up in the moment that she didn't even realise what was happening? Did she feel so sorry for him, her best friend, that she couldn't bare to hurt him? Or maybe, just maybe, did she...

No. Harry stopped the thought before it had even properly formed. That was not an option. Hermione was in love with Ron. She had been for almost six years now. Harry's brain was in complete agreement. It was his heart that was causing the problems. No matter how many times he tried to persuade himself that he had no chance, there was always a feeling, deep in his chest, telling him that things may not be as they seemed. It was a horrible feeling, largely because it simply wouldn't go away.

"I've got to stop thinking about this!" he cried to himself, balling his hands into fists

At that exact moment, Harry saw a flash of white fly into the room and land on a perch. It was Hedwig, carrying a note attached to her leg. Harry thanked her, and gave her a piece of bread, before examining the piece of paper. He immediately recognised the writing as Hermione's.

It was a very short note. He sat down, and started to read.

"Dear Harry," it said. "Ron told me that he asked you to stay with me while he's gone. I honestly don't know what to think about that. All I know is that we need to talk. I'll see you on Tuesday. Love, Hermione."

He looked at her neat, tiny scrawl and sighed, taking off his glasses and rubbing the bridge of his nose. What did Hermione want to talk about?

Harry, replacing his glasses, stood up and looked around, feeling lost in his own home. He needed something to take his mind off the letter, and what it might mean. He spied the radio in the corner of the room. Harry had always liked muggle music. It relaxed him in a way that not many other things could. He switched it on, and sat back down, closing his eyes and willing himself to concentrate on the music, and not on the whirring thoughts in his mind.

He recognised the singer immediately as being Ronan Keating, one of his favoured muggle singers. He relaxed into the chair as he listened to the music.

"I've kept it inside for the longest time

And I can't keep keeping in

All this love that's inside my heart

Maybe it's safer not to say that I care

Maybe this road won't lead me anywhere

But if I don't tell you now

I may never get the chance again

To tell you that I need you,

Tell you what I'm feeling

If I keep these feelings in

And if I don't say the words

How will you hear what's inside my heart?

How will you know then?

If I don't tell you now

I'd give anything to be in your dreams

And I can't stand standing by

With this dream that's inside my heart

Maybe I'm only gonna make a mistake

And there's a chance maybe my heart will break

But if I don't tell you now

I may never get the chance again

To tell you that I need you,

Tell you what I'm feeling

If I keep these feelings in

And if I don't say the words

How will you hear what's inside my heart?

How will you know then?

If I don't tell you now

How will you know you're inside my soul?

Oh it's driving me crazy 'cause you don't see

You're the world to me

I'm so afraid to say the way that I feel."

Harry quickly jumped up and shut the radio off. "Stupid muggle music," he muttered to himself.

But now that he had listened to the lyrics, try as he may, he couldn't stop thinking about their message. Should he say how he felt?

No. He couldn't. It was wrong; it was all wrong. He shouldn't feel this way, not about her. He walked back and forth in his living room, thoughts flying around his head as fast as the players in a Quidditch game.

Harry just couldn't decide what to do. He didn't want to betray Ron anymore than he had already, yet his heart told him that he had to. He knew with certainty that he could never get over her, no matter what. But having this hope inside of him, if there was none, was agony.

Harry walked over to the coffee table. On it lay a picture of himself, Hermione and Ron, on their Graduation Day. The three figures smiled and waved up at Harry from the picture. He looked at Ron, and bowed his head, the feeling of self-hatred returning, full force. A moment later, he forced himself to look back up at the picture, to look at Hermione.

Harry gritted his teeth knowing, and hating, what he had to do. "I have to tell her," he said to himself. "I have to tell Hermione that I'm in love with her."

Chapter 7: The Confession

The next day, Monday, was a very strange day for Harry. It seemed to pass by with the speed of light, and yet also went so nauseatingly slow that Harry didn't think he could stand another minute. He supposed it seemed this way because his feelings were likewise conflicting. On one hand, he so desperately wanted the clock to stop, for it to eternally remain Monday so that he would never have to face the next day. Yet part of him wanted Tuesday so desperately, he thought he would explode if he had to live through another moment on that Monday.

He was terrified of seeing Hermione the next day and facing her after their last meeting. He was terrified of staying alone with her at her house. But mostly he was terrified of the confession he knew he had to make, and of what her reaction would be.

But now, Harry lay in bed awaiting the dawn of the new day in nervous anticipation. He was beginning to be glad that he was seeing Hermione so soon. Even if the next day turned out to be amongst the worst in his life, he needed it to be over. He needed to know where he stood. He needed it to be five o'clock in the afternoon. Harry groaned as he remembered that whilst living through Monday had been torture, he still had to endure the next day at work, something he was sure would be positively unbearable.

Harry rolled over, determined not to think about the coming day, and to actually get some sleep. Several restless hours later, he finally did.

~~~~

As Harry had feared, the next day at work passed incredibly slowly. He seemed to hardly be aware of anything going on around him, his brilliant green eyes often appearing vacant as he slipped back into his thoughts of what the afternoon would bring.

When five o'clock finally did arrive, it caught Harry very much by surprise, despite the fact that he had been checking his watch every fifteen minutes throughout day.

After taking a moment to ready himself, Harry apparated away from the office, and found himself once again staring up at 7 Trafford Lane.

"It's now or never," he said to himself, wondering how a coward such as he could have placed in Gryffindor.

He walked cautiously up the porch steps and stared at the door only for a moment before knocking twice.

"Just a minute!" a voice called out to him.

Within moments, the front door was opened widely, and Hermione, red and breathing heavily, appeared at the door.

"Harry," she said quietly, looking deep into his eyes and fixing him with an unreadable gaze. She stepped out of the doorway to let him through.

"Hello, Hermione," Harry said, resting his bag on the floor. Hermione then, after only a moment's hesitation, reached out for Harry and took him in her arms. Harry tensed up, momentarily surprised, before embracing her back.

He cleared his throat as Hermione let him go. "I got your note," he began, avoiding her gaze. "You said we have to talk, and we do..."

"Shh," she cut him off with a slow shake of her head and an almost sad smile. "Not yet. Come on, bring your bag and I'll take you up to your room."

Harry followed her up the stairs and down to the end of the corridor, where the spare room sat just opposite the master bedroom. Hermione walked in and stood in front of the window as Harry put his bag on the floor by the bed. Hermione then turned around to face him.

"Harry, I..." she paused, and seemed to wonder how to proceed. She caught his eye and smiled shyly. "Thank you. Thank you for coming to stay with me."

He returned her smile. "You're welcome, Hermione."

~~~~

The rest of the afternoon passed by much better than Harry had expected. Both he and Hermione seemed to be in silent agreement not to mention either Ron or the kiss they had shared just two nights earlier. And for the first time in a long time, Harry wasn't worrying about anything. He was just enjoying being with her. Harry loved that both of them could be freer and more at home in each other's company than with anyone else. They had always had that special bond with each other that not even Ron could compete with.

They didn't even think about what was in the back of both of their minds. In fact, they avoided it entirely all that night, and the next. It was only after dinner on Harry's third night staying with Hermione that they dared mention what neither really wanted to.

They made their way outside to sit on the porch, Harry's mind racing when forced to confront the place where their last, dramatic rendezvous had occurred.

This time, when Hermione went to sit on the bench, Harry decided not to follow her lead, and hung back by the railing. She noticed his apparent discomfort, and looked up at him sadly.

"You know, Harry, you can sit next to me."

Harry looked at his feet. "I know. I just don't feel like sitting, honestly."

"Okay. So..." Hermione begun awkwardly, as they both wondered who would be the first to broach the subject they had avoided successfully thus far.

"So..." Harry returned helpfully.

She threw her hands in the air. "Harry, this is ridiculous. We're not kids anymore. And even when we were, we never had trouble talking to each other. Why are we making this so difficult?"

"Because, Hermione, it's... complicated. You're right, we're not kids anymore, so some things aren't as easy to talk about now."

"Can't you try?" she asked almost pleadingly.

Harry sighed, trying to psyche himself up, knowing that he couldn't hide himself from her any longer. "Okay, Hermione, okay." He looked around helplessly, until his gaze finally rested on Hermione's face. The sight seemed to give him strength as he relaxed and allowed his heart to take over. "You're so beautiful, you know," Harry whispered softly, causing Hermione to blush deeply. "You really are. I've never seen anyone as beautiful as you. But the really amazing thing is that as beautiful as you are on the outside, it's really nothing compared to how beautiful you are as a person, on the inside. You've got such a wonderful, kind heart. I meant what I said the other... that night, when we were last here. You're the only person who has ever truly been there for me, and who has loved me so much, without expectation or question. I don't know anyone like you, Hermione. Everything that you are..." Harry faltered, his eyes shimmering as he was so close to saying the very thing that he had wanted to for so many years. Hermione, for her part, seemed to be waiting with bated breath for him to continue.

Harry moved from his position by the railing, and finally sat down next to her. He smiled softly before continuing. "Hermione, I'm in love with you."

Harry waited a moment, breathing deeply, to see how she would react.

Her face seemed to contain a cocktail of emotions; shock, fear, surprise, disbelief. Finally, she spoke, seemingly incredulous. "What?"

Harry looked briefly at his hands, clasped together in his lap, before recapturing her gaze. "I'm in love with you." He stood once more, suddenly feeling guilty again. "I know that I shouldn't feel this way. And I know I probably shouldn't have told you. But I just had to, Hermione. It's been driving me crazy for years now..."

"Years?" she questioned shrilly. "How long have you known?"

Harry shrugged. "Since you and Ron got together? Since you kissed me on the cheek at the end of our fourth year? Since you were the only one who believed me after my name came out of the Goblet of Fire?" He caught her gaze once more. "Since we met? I don't know, I really don't. But the strangest thing is that now I can't remember ever not loving you, even when I didn't know it. Hermione, my whole life I've felt so lost and isolated, not knowing who or what I was, not knowing why I was famous or what I was meant to do. But when I'm with you... you feel like home to me. Like the only real home I've ever known. When I'm with you, I feel accepted, and safe, and loved. You're where I belong, even if you don't belong with me." Harry looked sadly across at Hermione, whose mouth was open in shock. "I'm not expecting anything of you, Hermione. I'm not asking anything of you. I just... please, say something. You're the most important thing in my life. I don't expect you to feel the same, I know that you don't. But I couldn't bare it if I lost you as my friend." He looked at her, pleading. "Please, say something."

Hermione shook her head, seeming to come out of a trance. She closed her mouth and stared at the ground, with her eyes wide. "I... I..." And then before Harry knew what was happening, she had flung open the front door and sprinted inside the house, and up the stairs.

Harry stared after her. All at once the vast range emotions he had been feeling caught up with him, and he began to cry softly. He made his way blindly over to the bench and sat down, putting his head in his hands and succumbing to the sobs that were bursting from him. "What have I done?"

Chapter 8: The Return

Half an hour later, Harry wiped his face and slowly started to make his way back inside the house. He went into the kitchen, poured himself a glass of water, and sat down at the table, putting his head in his hands.

He couldn't believe what he had done. Why had he thought that telling Hermione he was in love with her was the right thing to do? It was in retrospect, Harry thought now, perhaps the stupidest thing he had ever done. He had, with just those three little words, perhaps irrevocably destroyed the two greatest friendships he had ever known. Harry sighed deeply and shook his head, wondering how he was going to deal with this. As thoughts circled in his head, his gaze shifted over to the staircase, as his thoughts returned, as they always did, to Hermione.

Harry stood up now, suddenly eager to sleep. He rinsed his glass, and put it back in the cupboard, before trudging over to the staircase, and making his way up. Reaching the door to his room, he put his hand on the doorknob, hesitating over whether or not to open it. After a moment, he turned around, and moved cautiously to Hermione's door, trying to make out any sounds coming from within. What he heard made his heart stop and his breath catch in his throat. Hermione was crying.

As her friend and someone who loved her, he wanted to fling open the door and comfort her in his arms until she fell asleep. As the man who had caused her this hurt, he knew he could not, at least not right away. Yet as much as he knew he shouldn't, that he may only make things worse for himself, he simply couldn't bare to leave her crying and alone.

He knocked quietly on her door. "Hermione?" he called in a voice that was barely above a whisper. Getting no response, he tried again, raising his voice just a bit. "Hermione?"

"Go away," she cried out in between sniffs and sobs.

Harry felt as if he had been kicked in the gut. "Hermione, I just want to make sure you're okay."

"Please, go away, Harry!" she cried louder now.

At that moment, his heart hurt more than it ever had. Not because of the mind numbing pain he had inflicted upon himself by his actions, but for causing Hermione any kind of discomfort or pain. He could never stand to see her upset, and to know that he was the cause of it was just about too much for him to bear.

"Hermione, I... I'm sorry," he ended in a whisper, as he walked to his door with his head hanging down.

He changed his clothes and fell into bed, desperate for a sleep that would not come.

The next morning he showered and got dressed in a hurry, hoping to see Hermione. He practically ran downstairs, though to no avail. She had already left.

Hermione was very successfully avoiding him. He didn't see her at all that day, or the next, or even the day after that. In fact, Harry didn't see her at all until his last day staying with her, the day that Ron was due home.

Harry had awoken early, disturbed by noise downstairs. He heard what sounded like breaking glass. Worried, he got out of bed and grabbed his wand, not wanting to waste time putting a shirt over his bare chest. He thought that it was most likely that Hermione had simply broken a dish, but wanting to be prepared nonetheless, in the case of possible foul play. He walked carefully down the stairs ready to use the body bind curse if need be, only to find himself face to face with an angry and red faced Ron.

"Dammit!" Ron cried, massaging his hand. He had apparently slammed it accidentally against the bureau by the door, knocking off a vase, which broke on the floor, in the process.

Harry smirked at his friend, raising his eyebrow and waiting to be acknowledged.

A second later, Ron looked up and smiled, embarrassed. "Hello, Harry. Saw that, did you?"

"No, unfortunately, I missed it."

Ron rolled his eyes. "Ah, very funny. Honestly, sometimes I think we should put bubble wrap on the all our furniture just so I don't continually injure myself on anything!"

Harry laughed. "Good to see you back, Ron."

Ron smiled, and pulled Harry into a one armed embrace. "It's good to be back."

"How was it? How's Charlie?"

"Oh, well, as you know I'm not too fond of Romania," Ron began, as Harry helped him and his bags through to the living room. "But I swear, if I don't make the trek up there, I'd never see the sod. He's good, though. Loves it up there. Kinda makes me a bit sad though, whenever I go up there. Charlie's love of those dragons really reminds me of Hagrid."

They both paused, remembering their friend. "Norbert's doing well. I wish Hagrid could've seen him again before..." Ron shook his head, as if to shake away the sad thoughts that thinking of Hagrid inevitably conjured up. "Anyway, how've you been, mate? And how's my gorgeous fiancée?"

Harry paused for just a moment. "Well, I can't complain. And Hermione... well, I think she's been missing you."

Ron's face lit up. "I've missed her too. Where is she?"

"I guess she's still asleep. I don't think either of us expected you until tonight."

"Yeah, I took an earlier portkey," Ron explained. "Hermione!" he suddenly exclaimed.

Harry turned around and saw Hermione, showered and dressed, standing on the stairs. He shook his head internally. She'd obviously been getting up this early for the last few days in her efforts to leave before having to see him.

Ron bounded over to her, and caught her up in a tight embrace. She smiled sadly; catching Harry's eye for a moment before both looked away.

"Ooh, I've missed you so much!" Ron told her, pulling back a little to look at her.

With the same sad smile still imprinted on her face, which Harry mused that Ron seemed oblivious to, she nodded. "I'm glad you're back."

Ron quickly swept her up into another hug. Harry hung back, feeling uncomfortable standing there topless in front of Hermione. When they broke apart again, Harry cleared his throat.

"Well," he said, stepping awkwardly past them at the bottom of the stairs. "I'm just gonna get dressed."

He came down with his bag a few minutes later to see Ron sitting in the living room. There was no sign of Hermione.

"Well, I'll get out of your hair now."

"Don't be silly, Harry. Stay and have some breakfast with us."

At that moment, Hermione walked into the room. Harry caught the look of discomfort that passed over her face, and replied to Ron. "No, I'd better not. Have to get an early start in the office today."

"Oh, if you have to," Ron said not looking as sorry as he sounded. It was obvious why, and Harry gulped, unjustifiably feeling ill everytime he was confronted by the nature of Hermione's relationship with Ron.

"Okay, well, I guess I'll see you two later, then," he said, moving towards the door.

Ron stood to follow him, accompanied by Hermione. "Don't be a stranger, okay, Harry?"

Harry chuckled awkwardly. "Sure, Ron. See you later."

He walked out the door, across the porch, and down the stairs. When he reached the bottom, he turned around.

Ron had his arm around Hermione and was waving and calling out his goodbyes. Hermione didn't say a word.

Chapter 9: The Truth

A week later, Harry was lying awake in bed, staring up at the ceiling. With the image of Hermione's face in his mind's eye, he smiled sadly and sighed. He hadn't heard a word from her, or Ron, since he'd left their house, and for that he was strangely grateful. He missed them, of course, but he just couldn't deal with the situation he had created; he simply didn't know how to. That's why he'd decided that it was probably best if he get away for a while, maybe have a holiday. Besides, Ron and Hermione's were getting married in a month's time, and Harry felt that he needed time alone before having to face up to the wedding. Having to look happy and perform his duty as Best Man seemed impossible to him.

Suddenly, Harry heard a knock at the door. He bolted upright in his bed, looking at his watch. Seeing that it was two in the morning, his brow crinkled in confusion, as he wondered who on earth would be coming over at this time of night. Quickly pulling on a shirt and grabbing his wand, he made his way down the hallway to the front door. He pulled it open and found himself face to face with a sobbing Hermione.

"Woah," he breathed as she collapsed heavily into his arms without a word. Cradling her against his chest and murmuring soothing words of comfort, he closed the door and led her into the living room. He carefully sat her down in his couch, and tried to move away from her, wanting to get her something to drink. She held tight to him, apparently not wanting to let go. "Okay, don't worry, I won't leave you," he whispered to her, settling himself next to her. She hugged her arms around him, leaning her head against his chest as she continued crying. Harry rubbed his hands consolingly over her back with one hand and caressed her hair with the other, occasionally planting comforting kisses on the top of her head.

Hermione was obviously in no state to talk, so Harry didn't question her. He just sat with her, doing the best he could to make her feel better. But as he sat there, he wondered why she was crying so desperately, and why she had come to him, of all people, at such a late hour.

Half an hour later, the sobbing had stopped, and Hermione's breathing had slowed, returning to normal. Harry looked down and saw that she had fallen asleep. He prised himself out of her arms as delicately as he could, and lay her down on the couch, pulling off her shoes.

He walked quietly into the hallway and went to the closet, pulling out a heavy blanket. Returning, he placed it carefully over her sleeping form and sat down in a chair opposite her. For the longest time he just sat there, watching her sleep. He couldn't believe the sense of calm and contentedness he felt just from watching the rise and fall of her chest, seeing the look of peace and vulnerability on her face. If he could, Harry mused, he'd be happy to watch her sleep for the rest of his life. However, soon enough, his own feelings of fatigue took over.

Harry awoke very peacefully the next morning, feeling as though he hadn't had such a good nights sleep in a long time. He yawned and stretched, briefly wondering why he was sleeping in a chair, before remembering the last night's events. His eyes quickly scanned up to the couch, which he was surprised to see was empty, save for the blanket which was folded and placed neatly on the cushion.

Harry got up, his legs stiff, and began walking to the kitchen. As he had suspected, it was there that he found Hermione, sitting down at the table eating some toast.

"Hey," she said quietly. He realised that despite the fact that her eyes were still a little red and rather puffy, he had never seen anyone as beautiful.

"Hey," he replied, coming to lean against the wall in front of her.

She nodded down to her plate. "I hope you don't mind that I made myself something to eat..."

"Of course not, don't be silly," he interrupted with a wave of his hand. "Feel free to have whatever you want." After an awkward moments silence, he continued. "Uh, Hermione..."

"I know," she said stopping him before he could get a sentence out. She motioned him to sit down next to her. "I'm sorry about last night, Harry. I'm sorry that I woke you up so late, and I'm sorry about the state I was in. I hope I didn't worry you too much?"

"Oh no, not too much," he said smirking.

She laughed. "Alright, point taken, that was a stupid thing to say. God knows if our places had been reversed, I'd have been tearing my hair out in worry."

Harry cleared his throat. "So, uh, if you don't mind me asking..." He stopped and laughed quietly at his awkwardness before holding her gaze and asking tenderly. "Hermione, what's the matter?"

She picked up her plate and walked over to the sink, washing it and placing it back in the cupboard. She finally turned and faced him again. "Last night I... I broke up with Ron," she finished, looking at the floor.

Harry was bewildered. "What?"

She began pacing the kitchen. "I couldn't take it anymore, Harry. Being with him, I was just hurting him, and I didn't want to do it anymore. I couldn't do it anymore. I love Ron, I do. But when he proposed to me, it hit me like a sledgehammer. Suddenly I knew that for the last six years I'd been convincing myself that I was in love with him. But I wasn't. I never was, not really. He was my friend, one of my best friends, and I really tried to love him the way he loved me. But it always felt... wrong. I knew that if I said no, I'd break his heart." She sighed, as tears began to stream slowly down her face. "So I said yes, and since then we've been drifting further and further apart. It's strange, when I ended it, he was sad. But part of him almost seemed relieved, as if a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. It was then that I realised that he knew too. He knew that it wasn't meant to be."

Harry was looking down at the table in shock. He didn't even notice, at first, when Hermione came and sat down next to him again, jumping just a little when he did.

"Harry," she began quietly, searching out his eyes. "When Ron proposed, I knew that I couldn't be with him. I knew because I've always been in love with someone else. I hid it from myself, pretending it wasn't true, because Ron loved me, and I had to love him back. But it became clearer that I just couldn't hide it anymore. Harry," she said, whispering and taking his hand in hers, her eyes glistening. "It's you. It's always been you. I'm in love with you, Harry."

Harry simply couldn't believe what he was hearing. He shook his head, trying, and failing, to make sense of everything. He tried to be rational, though his heart was pounding in his chest at what she had just said. "Hermione, this doesn't make any sense. When I was staying with you, and I told you that I loved you, you ran off. You avoided me. How..."

"You scared me, Harry. I knew, I thought, that there was no chance for us. For a long time now I've been trying to figure out how I could leave Ron because I knew I couldn't lie to him anymore. But it had nothing to do with you. I didn't even imagine for a moment that I'd leave Ron and suddenly you and I would be together. But after we kissed, and you said you loved me, I was terrified. Terrified because I didn't want to hurt Ron anymore than I had to. And terrified because the thought of actually being with you was so wonderful and elusive that it just didn't seem real. I've dreamt about you since we were at school. Suddenly being gifted the opportunity to be with you... I know that if you and I start something, then that's it. There's no going back. I'll love you with everything I am, for the rest of my life. I never had that feeling with Ron, not even for a second. It's a beautiful and scary feeling to know that there's someone more vital to you than the air you breathe."

Harry had to practically physically restrain himself from screaming out of pure joy. He managed to, however, and pulled Hermione up out of her seat and held her tightly against him. "I know that feeling too, Hermione."

He pulled back and saw that she was smiling up at him, tears streaming down her face. He put his hand to her cheek, and she kissed his palm. "I love you, Hermione."

"I love you, Harry."

He leant forward, and spoke against her lips. "Well, I guess that's it then."

Chapter 10: The Conclusion

"Harry! Hurry up, we're going to be late!"

"Okay, honey, I'm coming!"

Harry tried once more to flatten his messy mop of black hair, but to no avail. He sighed at the mirror and gave up, picking up his robe from where it lay on the bed and putting it on as he hurried out of the bedroom.

Hermione was standing by the front door staring at him with an impatient, yet amused look on her face.

"What was taking you so long?"

Harry rolled his eyes. "My hair, as usual. I can't do a ruddy thing with it. It always sticks up."

Hermione smiled and ran her fingers through his unruly mop. "Well, I love it. I think it's very sexy."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Oh really?" He grabbed her around the waist and kissed her passionately.

"Ewwwwwww!" came two little voices from outside.

Hermione pulled away from Harry and looked, amused, at the little boy and girl who were staring at them with looks of disgust. "And what's so wrong with kissing, may I ask?" she questioned.

"Nothing," the boy answered with a smile before bolting across the yard. "Except when your mum and dad do it," he called back.

Harry laughed and ran after the 7 year-old, catching him about the waist and holding him upside down. "James, you are impossible!" Harry cried.

The little boy giggled. "I know, Dad. Mum says I get it from you!"

Harry put James back down and turned towards Hermione, with an evil twinkle in his eye. "Oh did she really?" he asked as he started to walk towards her.

Hermione's mouth opened wide in mock fear, and she picked up the little girl, holding her like a shield. "Stop right there, Harry," she began, obviously trying desperately not to laugh. "If you want to get to me, you'll have to come through Claire. And you wouldn't want to hurt your poor, innocent little daughter, would you?"

Harry stopped in his tracks, himself trying to contain the laughter that was threatening to overpower him. "I can't believe you'd use our 4 year-old like that!"

Claire giggled in Hermione's arms as Harry closed the distance between them. Harry smiled; the joy he felt in his heart at sharing this moment with his family was so overwhelming that he felt as though he could burst. "You're an evil woman, you know that?" he said to his wife.

Hermione smiled back at him. "I know," she looked at him slyly. "But the question is, what are you going to do about it?"

Harry didn't answer her. Instead, he leant forward and kissed her delicately on the lips. Claire struggled to get to the ground, and ran over to her brother, as their parents wrapped their arms around each other in a loving embrace.

The two children looked at each other in horror, before turning back to their parents. "Ewwwwwww!"

Harry and Hermione laughed against each other's lips and looked back at their children. "All right," Hermione said. "We'll stop. Come on, get in the car you two." As Harry began walking over to the car, she tugged him back, whispering in his ear. "We'll continue that later on tonight."

Winking at him, she helped James and Claire get into the car. Harry got into the front seat, and found that he simply couldn't stop smiling.

* * * *

Harry picked up Claire in his arms as they started towards the front door, Hermione walking behind them, holding James' hand.

Harry knocked on the door and kissed his daughter on the cheek, looking behind him to smile at Hermione.

A moment later, the front door was opened by a little red-haired girl who was about the same age as Claire. "Hello," she cried out with a wide grin on her face that showed that she had two front teeth missing.

"Hi, Rose," Harry said warmly. "You look as though you've lost something."

"Huh?" she questioned, looking very confused.

"Your front teeth, where have they gone?"

Rose, Claire and James all started giggling, and Rose shoved Harry playfully in the leg. "You're silly, Uncle Harry."

"I know sweetie," Harry smiled as Claire jumped out of his arms to stand next to the little girl.

"Who is it, pumpkin?" a booming voice called out.

"It's Uncle Harry and Aunt Hermione, Daddy!" the little girl yelled back in a voice that Harry thought seemed much too loud to actually come from a 5 year-old girl.

He turned to Hermione and chuckled, putting his arm around her shoulders as they entered the house.

"Mummy," Claire began, looking hopeful. "Can I go and play with Rose?"

"Of course you can, honey."

"Yay! Thanks, Mummy. Come on James," she said, dragging her brother by his sleeve.

"Oh, do I have to?" he groaned.

"Uncle Sirius is here, James," Rose said in a singsong voice that succeeded in getting James' attention.

"Where?" the boy asked as the three ran off into the house together.

"I swear," Harry said with his arm still around Hermione. "Our son absolutely worships the ground Sirius walks on. I think I'm a little jealous."

Hermione kissed him on the cheek. "Don't worry, darling. He worships you too."

"Harry! Hermione! You're finally here! I suppose it was Harry taking too long in the bathroom again, eh?" said a voice in jest.

Hermione laughed and playfully nudged Harry. "You're not half wrong. How are you, Ron?"

Ron grinned widely, and hugged the two of them. "I'm great," he exclaimed. They all began walking to the kitchen. "How are you guys? Any trouble getting here?"

Harry smiled. "Not really. We did get in trouble from the kids this morning for kissing though."

Ron laughed. "So it's started already for you guys, huh? Rose hasn't started any of that yet, thank goodness. But if she turns out to be anything like Fred and George were with mum and dad when they were little, I think I'm gonna have to lock her up in her room." They all laughed as a tall, blonde woman walked smiling into the room to snuggle against Ron. "I can barely keep my lips off this one for a second, and if Rose doesn't like it well, what can you do?" Ron smirked against the top of the woman's head.

"Hi, Anna, how are you?" Harry asked, going to hug the woman.

"We're great, how are you guys?" Anna asked, hugging Hermione too.

"Never better," Hermione grinned.

"Come on, everyone's outside. We'll leave this big lug in here to finish the cooking, shall we?" Anna asked, kissing her husband.

"Who are you calling a big lug, huh?" Ron grinned, swatting Anna playfully. "Yeah, go on, leave me in here alone, slaving away over a hot stove."

Harry, Hermione and Anna laughed as they headed outside. Harry looked around and was happily overwhelmed when everyone seemed to simultaneously rush forward to greet them. After all the welcoming had taken place, and well after they had eaten Ron's surprisingly spectacular lunch, Harry found himself sitting, alone peacefully sipping a butterbeer, just watching everyone.

He saw Arthur Weasley, still fascinated by all things muggle, asking Doug Granger about computers, as their respective wives, Molly and Sarah, tried to chat over them. Bill, Charlie, Percy, Fred and George were playing Quidditch with their various children. Bill, Percy and Fred's wives, Fleur, Penelope and Angelina were discussing the latest in witch fashions with Ginny. Her husband, Colin, was busy taking pictures of the ongoing Quidditch game whilst Ron was animatedly talking to Anna and Remus. Hermione sat on the grass with Claire on her lap, and James and Rose on either side of her. The three children were transfixed by one of Sirius' many stories. Harry watched his family sitting there, and smiled contentedly, so happy with his life and the way everything had turned out. At that moment, Hermione turned to look at him. Seeing him watching them, she whispered something into Claire's ear, who moved so that Hermione could get up, and she wandered over to Harry.

Sitting on his lap, she ran her fingers through his hair. "What were you looking at?"

Harry smiled. "Everyone. You. I'm just so... I'm so happy, Hermione. When I was younger, things were so bad for me, and I really didn't expect that much out of life other than to survive it. But now I know that you're not supposed to just survive life, you're supposed to live it. And I couldn't have ever done that without you. You are my life, Hermione. I love you so much."

Hermione's eyes glistened. "Oh, Harry," she choked out. Composing herself a little, she continued on quietly. "I was going to wait until we were alone to tell you this, but I suddenly can't wait another second. Harry, we're having another baby."

Harry's face broke into a wide grin. "Really?"

Hermione laughed through the tears silently streaming down her face. "Really."

He hugged her tight against him and kissed her lips, whispering softly to her. "I'm the luckiest man alive."

A/N: Well, that's it... or is it? ;) I might (emphasis on the word 'might', I'm really busy at the moment, so it won't be for a while) write a sequel of epilogue or something to explain what happened when Harry and Hermione told Ron, how he got with Anna, Harry and Hermione's wedding, and how and when James appeared ;)