Once, Twice, and Always
Disclaimer: See Chapter 1
Author's Notes: And this is the end, so this is for all of you who have read and reviewed this fic. Thank you!
Part 4: Remember the Love
Harry awoke slowly and reached out to touch… nothing. He opened his eyes, reaching for his glasses that he just remembered dropping carelessly on Hermione's nightstand, and putting them on.
There was a folded piece of parchment on the pillow beside him, with his name written on it in Hermione's familiar handwriting.
Harry,
I had to go to work but I'll try to come home early today.
I love you.
Yours,
Hermione
Warmth started in his heart and spread, making him smile softly. It was amazing the effect that 5 written words had on him. I love you. Yours, Hermione. Only 5 words, 5 simple words and yet they warmed his heart as no other words could. Hermione loved him, and she was his…
He was still smiling to himself when, a few minutes later, he opened the drawer of Hermione's nightstand to find a comb to attempt to tame his hair, and saw it.
A ring… Slowly, his hand trembling suddenly, he reached inside and picked it up. It was an engagement ring, with one larger diamond in the center and two smaller diamonds, one on either side…
His hands trembled, and his breath caught. Images and voices were spinning through his mind… And he remembered…
He had been walking along Bond Street in London and somehow it seemed the most natural thing in the world to walk into Tiffany's… It was as if his subconscious mind had already decided and knew what he was going to do, and somehow he wasn't surprised. He loved her, always would love her. This wasn't the sort of thing that ended; it wouldn't end even if he died, he was somehow sure. She was a part of his soul, part of himself… There was no decision to make, after all… The salesperson smiled at him. "It's one of our most beautiful rings; a very limited number were made so it's quite special." He responded, "It's for a very special person…" The words were trite, perhaps, but he knew he'd never said anything he meant more. She was special, his Hermione, with her intelligence, her kindness, her humor, her confidence and her insecurities…
He knelt, in the deserted park, looking up at her, as she stood looking down at him, one hand covering her mouth, tears shimmering in her eyes, and he thought he'd never seen anything so beautiful in his entire life. He could feel his heart beating faster. Was he asking too soon? What would he do if she wasn't ready for this? If she said no? But then his eyes met hers and he knew that, whatever she said, he had to say what he felt and it was easy. He had practiced several speeches but found he didn't need them. He just needed to look at her eyes, dark in the dim light of the park but he knew how warm and true they were, and he knew what he needed to say… "When I think about my future, the only certainty in it is you. You are my rock, my life-line that keeps me from drowning. I- I love you. I could say it a million times and it still wouldn't be enough… Hermione, will you marry me?" She was crying in earnest now, as she threw her arms around his neck, "Yes! I love you…" He blinked. "Really, you will?" She laughed through her tears, "Honestly, Harry, as if I could say no. I could never say no to you." He kissed her then, showing her with his mouth all the love in his heart, and he could have sworn he felt the missing pieces of his soul fall into place… He was complete now, with his Hermione in his arms.
Hermione… kissing her, caressing her, worshipping her body with his hands and his lips… "You're beautiful." And her little teasing smile, "It took you long enough to notice." He hadn't smiled, only shook his head slowly. "No, I always knew it; I just never said anything." She blinked back sudden tears, bringing his mouth back to hers to kiss him again…
Asking, "Are you sure?" and the incredible sweetness of her expression and the confidence in her soft response, "Just love me"… He thought of the night before and understood why she had smiled when he asked her again whether she was sure… Love me… She had said that to him twice now, once at the beginning and now again, because he'd forgotten his first promise… He winced, suddenly hating himself for how much he must have hurt her these past few weeks…
He remembered it all- how could he have forgotten? The little moments, the touches, the kisses, the laughter, the happiness…
He remembered telling Ron, "I'm in love with Hermione," and waiting, half in fear, for Ron's reaction and not receiving any until he'd finally looked at Ron, to find Ron still watching him as if waiting for him to say something more. "You- you don't have anything to say?" And Ron beginning to grin and finally to laugh, laugh nearly to the point of tears, "Oh Harry, the look on your face when you said that! As if you were announcing the end of the bloody world…" He had stared at Ron as if he'd suddenly grown two heads, "You knew?" Ron had laughed more at his admittedly comical expression. "Of course I knew, you prat, I'm not blind, unlike you, apparently." And finally Ron had sobered and said, "Harry, Hermione has been the most important person in your life for years, the person you always looked for first. Even before you were friends, you looked out for her, remembered her crying in the bathroom. I was just waiting for you to wake up and realize what I finally realized about a year ago, and should have known sooner if I hadn't been such an ass." Ron had paused, taking a sip of his butterbeer, before grinning sideways at him, saying casually, "Just know that if you hurt her, I'll kill you." He had finally burst out laughing at the difference in Ron's words and his tone and expression. Ron had quirked one eyebrow up in a smirk and added, "I'll tell her the same thing, of course." And suddenly they had been laughing together, two best friends, and any fears that this would disturb the friendship of the three had been relieved…
He remembered the way the world had stopped moving, narrowing down to that one moment and the two of them, when she said, "I love you, Harry" those first times… Remembered telling her he loved her for the first time, suddenly and out of nowhere, when they had been cuddled together on the couch, half watching the television, half watching the sunset through the window and completely enjoying the closeness of the other, when the words had just welled up inside him until he had to say them, thought he would burst if he didn't…
Harry came back to the present with a sigh, staring at the engagement ring he still held. Dear Merlin, Hermione had been so strong, to be able to treat him as normally as she had these past few weeks. He was torn between pride at how strong she was and guilt that he had caused her such pain… He couldn't imagine how it must have hurt her to have to put her engagement ring away and not wear it at all these past weeks. He needed to make it up to her, somehow. But how…
Ron was a very satisfied man that morning as he lounged idly on the couch in the living room of Harry and Hermione's flat, nursing a cold butterbeer. He knew Harry had spent the night in Hermione's room; Harry's open bedroom door and the untouched bed had been evidence enough. Silently he congratulated himself on the success of his little plot. Now Harry and Hermione could be happy again.
He had told them both that if they hurt the other, he'd kill them. Granted, he'd been half-teasing but it was also true. He cared too much about both of them to do otherwise, short of killing, he amended silently, grinning to himself. Harry had hurt Hermione, through no fault of his own of course, and Ron knew Harry well enough to know that when Harry did remember, he would hate himself for it, never mind that he could hardly have helped it.
When Ron finally heard Harry step into the living room, he quickly stifled his smirk and turned with a smile, determined to act as if he had no idea what had happened. "There you are, sleepy-he-" He cut his teasing greeting off at the sight of Harry's face. And he knew. Harry was himself again; he remembered… It was clear from the expression of guilt, the torment in his eyes that Ron recognized only too well from their Hogwarts years. He sighed a little before saying, "You have your memories back." It wasn't a question.
Harry nodded silently, throwing himself into a chair facing Ron. "I hurt her so much didn't I?" he finally asked quietly.
"Yes but it's not your fault and you know it, Harry," Ron began, straightening up. "Our Hermione's smart," he added, smiling wryly at the understatement, "and she doesn't blame you at all; I know she doesn't. It was an accident, just something that happened." He paused, allowing himself to grin. "Bloody bad luck for that Beater, I must say. Fred and George caught up with him afterwards and… well, let's just say he'll never hit a Bludger without looking where he's aiming it again."
Harry managed a chuckle at Ron's deliberate attempt to lighten his mood. And as he sat there, the beginnings of a plan began to form in his mind…
When Hermione got home that afternoon, unsure of how she should act, how Harry would act when he saw her, she found the flat empty. Frowning slightly, she searched the living room and the kitchen for a note, found none, and then went to her own room and stopped short.
Spread out on her bed was a dress in her preferred color of dark blue in a shimmering, sparkling material, designed with a slight flare on the skirt and the hem cut diagonally. And on top of the dress was a folded piece of parchment.
Put this on.
Hermione smiled slightly, changing out of the comfortable slacks and jumper she usually wore to work and into the lovely dress. It fit perfectly and felt wonderful. Idly she wondered if Harry had had some kind of comfort charm cast on the dress to make it feel so comfortable and fit so well.
The words on the parchment had changed: You look beautiful.
Hermione couldn't help laughing out loud at that. How would Harry know; he wasn't even here to see how she looked…
And then she gasped, smiling as her breath caught and her heart warmed. The parchment now read: I don't need to see you to know you're beautiful. You're always beautiful to me.
Hermione touched two fingers to the parchment gently. Was it any wonder she loved Harry? For a moment, she felt a fleeting flare of pity for all the women out there who would never know what it was like to be loved by Harry, to know that they were so needed, so important, to someone…
The parchment had changed again: Go to Queen Anne's Square.
And then she knew…
This wasn't just Harry giving her a romantic night out after their night together; this was Harry apologizing… He remembered… He must. To ask her to meet him at Queen Anne's Square, the small park a few streets away that they liked to walk through. It was where he had proposed to her…
She had a sudden memory of that night, that wonderfully happy night… They were walking leisurely, hand in hand, after having a quiet dinner at one of their favorite Muggle restaurants, when Harry suddenly stopped as if he'd thought of something. She'd looked at him curiously. "What is it, Harry?" He'd half smiled at her but she could see that something was bothering him, was beginning to worry a little, when he took out a small box from his pocket and given it to her. She'd gasped when she opened it to see the ring, happy tears beginning to well up in her eyes when he knelt in front of her…
He remembered; her Harry was back. She didn't stop to wonder what had happened, how his memory had been restored. She could wonder and find out later. For now she just needed to see him…
She grabbed her purse and left the flat at a run, not even caring, for once, that people she passed were looking at her oddly. Later, at some other time, she would care that she probably looked very strange, dressed so formally but carrying a practical, everyday purse, running as if her life depended on it...
But that was later. Not now. Not now when she was running to Harry, her Harry, whom she'd missed so much…
She saw him turn when he heard her coming, saw him stand up and face her. He was dressed formally too, in the dark green silk shirt she'd given him for his last birthday and black slacks, black tie and black jacket. He was beautiful. And he was hers…
She ran until she was standing in front of him, close enough to touch him but not touching him yet, her breath coming fast both from running and from excitement. Slowly, she reached out a trembling hand to touch his face gently with her fingertips, as if afraid he was going to vanish. "Harry?" His name came out as almost as a whisper.
He didn't say anything, just looked at her, and she saw everything she needed to see in his eyes. I love you. I'm so sorry. I remember now. Forgive me…
And then she was in his arms, holding on to him, crying, babbling somewhat irrationally, as she later thought, "Oh Harry, you're back, you're really back. I missed you so much. I'm so glad you're back…"
Harry blinked back tears as he held Hermione to him, his heart aching like a living thing at this proof of how hard these past two weeks had been, to reduce Hermione, his Hermione, to this. She was so strong, so capable… And he had done this; he had made her cry… He kissed her hair. "Please, Hermione, don't cry like this. You know I can't stand to see you cry…" His own voice broke slightly. "I'm so sorry… So sorry… I love you…"
Her answer was to lift her head, kissing him hard, infusing all her love, all her tears, all her understanding and her forgiveness into this meeting of lips. He aligned his lips with hers, his arms tightening around her bringing her body so close to his that there wouldn't have been room for even a pence between them, so close that he could feel her heart beating against his own chest.
And Hermione felt all her hurt fade away into nothing. Her Harry was really back; he remembered everything and she was in his arms, kissing as if there was no tomorrow, as if they hadn't seen each other in years… And in some odd way, it did feel as if she hadn't seen Harry in weeks. Or at least, not this Harry… Last night had been wonderful, had gone a long way in healing her heart; it had been so good to kiss him again, to touch him, to feel his hands on her skin again… but it had not been the same. He was still her Harry and his touch had still kindled a fire inside her but it had been different. It had been different because, at least for Harry, it was their first time. Now, though, Harry remembered it all and oh the difference it made…
She didn't know how long it was before the kiss ended and they parted although just enough to see the other's face.
Harry lifted one hand, touching her cheek ever so gently with his fingertips, his lips curving in the ghost of a smile. "You look beautiful," he said softly.
Hermione smiled, one of her rare, tender smiles when her heart was in her eyes and on her face for everyone to see. "So do you," she responded equally softly. "Thank you for the dress."
"You're welcome." His expression changed, became self-deprecating. "I have more to give you; I just forgot about them until now…" His arms dropped, although he retained her hand in his, as he turned away to pick up a basket that had been sitting by his feet that she hadn't even noticed until now.
The basket was filled with fresh flowers, and she caught her breath. Irises. Daffodils. Her favorite flowers. And in the very center, a single red rose. She raised shining brown eyes to meet his green ones. "Harry, it must have cost a fortune to get fresh daffodils in October."
He shrugged, smiling, not saying anything either in denial or in confirmation.
And then he opened the fist that was holding the basket, allowing two things that had been tied around the handle to fall from his grasp, hanging above the flowers.
Hermione gasped, tears filling her eyes. Hanging from a ribbon was their engagement ring. She had taken it off once Harry had been released from St. Mungo's, knowing that Harry would notice it and needing to preserve his sense of normalcy had meant putting aside this tangible symbol of their engagement. It had hurt more than she had ever thought possible, to have to take her ring off and put it away in her nightstand, but she had done it, for Harry, to help him recover…
Very slowly and deliberately, Harry set the basket down, untying the ribbon and taking the ring. Again he knelt in front of her, looking up at the dear, wonderful face he knew so well, the face he was going to wake up to for the rest of his life. He let out his breath. Somehow this had been easier the first time. It was so much harder now, knowing how much he had hurt her, knowing that, because of him, she had had to disavow their engagement for days… Finally he just said what was easiest. "I love you, Hermione, for now, for always." He slid the ring back onto her finger where it belonged, kissing it, before standing up and gently cupping her face between his hands. "I'm sorry. I'll never hurt you again," he vowed softly.
Hermione smiled but shook her head, despite the tears in her eyes. "That's not true," she corrected him gently and quietly, her eyes sober as they searched his. "You'll hurt me but I will hurt you too sometimes, because we're human and we make mistakes. We can hurt each other and we'll forgive each other. And that's okay, because we'll always know… that I love you and you love me, so it's okay if we fight, if we do hurt each other sometimes."
He smiled tenderly. "You're so wise, my dear Miss Granger," he said softly, before bending his head and kissing her again. This kiss was different; there was no urgency, no driving need to get as close to the other as possible. Lips brushed against lips, fluttering soft touches of his lips to hers, an affirmation of love and trust and faith.
When the kiss ended, Hermione drew back and smiled a little into Harry's eyes. "I missed this so much."
He looked slightly confused. "What?"
"I missed kissing you," she clarified, a teasing glint appearing in her eyes. "You're a very good kisser, you know, Mr. Potter."
Harry smiled a little uncomfortably, wondering that Hermione's teasingly spoken statement somehow made him feel more accomplished than winning the Quidditch Cup or anything else. He looked down, knowing Hermione was enjoying the signs of his sudden embarrassment, his gaze falling on the basket of flowers and the one last thing he had gotten to give Hermione.
Hermione smiled to herself as she watched Harry react to her teasing compliment. She loved his modesty, the more so because it was so sincere. That was the sometimes surprising thing about Harry; he honestly didn't seem to realize how special he was. In part she knew that was because of the way he'd grown up and she hated the Dursleys for it, but it was more than that. It was just Harry; he didn't see what he did as being unusual because for him he had never considered any other option. She had known that from the moment she saw him and Ron come running into the girls bathroom to save her; it never occurred to Harry that no one else or hardly anyone else would have remembered a girl crying in the bathroom when she wasn't even their friend. Harry had remembered, had come back for her, put himself in danger for a virtual stranger, and had done it without a moment's hesitation or a second thought.
It was why she loved him so much, first as her best friend and then just as hers…
He was so generous, too generous really, she thought tenderly and half-ruefully, even as her breath caught as she saw what Harry was holding in his hand: a gold necklace with a heart-shaped pendant, lined with diamonds that even in the dim light of the park, glittered and sparkled with a life of their own.
"Harry," she finally breathed, "it's lovely, but you really shouldn't have…" She looked up at him and Harry had the sudden thought, clichéd as it was, that the tears on her eyelashes sparkled brighter than any diamond.
He shook his head slightly, denying her statement that it was too much, before smiling gently. "I hope those tears are tears of happiness and not dismay at my extravagance."
Hermione let out a little laugh, stepping closer to him, smiling into his eyes. "The tears are because I'm the luckiest woman in the world. I don't deserve this…"
He sobered. "I think you do," he said seriously and softly. "I'm so sorry I-"
She cut him off with a gentle hand over his mouth. "No, it's okay. No more apologies; it wasn't your fault and I never blamed you for it." She met his eyes, a teasing smile lifting the corners of her lips. "And I forbid you to blame yourself, understood?" she asked in her best Hermione-the-Prefect voice.
Harry smiled against her fingers, kissing them before reaching up and taking her hand in his. "As you wish," he answered softly. She said she was the luckiest woman in the world; he was certainly the luckiest man… He didn't know what he had done to have this woman love him so completely, with all her loyalty and her kindness, but he sent up a silent thank you to the Fates as he kissed her again.
Epilogue: What's Meant to Be
Later that evening…
Ron stood up when he heard Harry and Hermione enter the flat, leaning one shoulder against the wall as he watched, smiling to himself, as they laughed quietly together about something one or the other had just said. "I take it you two had a nice night out?" he asked, keeping his voice casual.
They both turned to smile at him, Hermione greeting him with a kiss on the cheek in an uncharacteristic display of affection. "Oh Ron, there you are. Did you have dinner?"
"Yes, no thanks to you two," he answered, with mock irritation. It was something of a running joke between them, Ron pretending disgruntlement when Harry and Hermione went out to dinner without him. (Hermione loved that the friendship between them was so strong, so unshaken by her and Harry's special relationship that they could joke about Ron being left out.)
Harry and Hermione fell in with Ron's teasing and it was like old times again. There was nothing to hide, nothing to forgive, Harry was himself again…
Harry hit his forehead with his hand. "Bollocks, I knew I forgot something. Completely forgot to pack up our left-overs and bring them home for you, Ron." He turned to Hermione with an exaggerated expression of hope. "Did you remember?"
Hermione shook her head. "No, I was too busy thinking of you, Harry." She kept her voice as sincere and sober as possible, despite the fact that a corner of her mouth was threatening to smile.
Ron let out a huff of mock annoyance. "I see. Well, I guess I'll just have to go without dinner tonight, since you're too interested in each other to spare a thought for your poor hungry suffering best friend…" He sighed exaggeratedly. "Sad thing really…"
Harry pretended to inspect Ron's stomach. "Still looks like you've got some fat stored up there; you can skip a few meals…" He shared a grin with Hermione at the very idea of Ron being fat, Ron who had gotten to be so tall and on the lanky side.
Ron gave up the attempt to stay serious and started to grin and then laugh, Harry and Hermione joining him and Ron thought, now things are just the way they should be…
~*~
It was in the way he touched her… There were times when he was passionate and their love-making was quick and explosive. Then there were times, like tonight, when he was tender, when he lingered over every inch of her skin with his hands, his lips and his tongue, letting her know by his actions that to him she was the most beautiful woman in the world…
Something about his touch tonight told her he wanted to draw their love-making out, his mood communicating itself to her as always. It was just part of the understanding, the soul-deep connection they had always seemed to share; she didn't understand it, just accepted it as a gift…
He looked up at her, green eyes locking with brown for a long moment, and she felt the by-now familiar thrill she always felt when she looked into his eyes, saw the depth of the love in them, his eyes clouded with need.
She bent down and kissed him, letting her tongue explore the familiar space of his mouth, her fingers entangling themselves in his messy hair. The kiss was long, tender, and sensual and when they finally broke apart to look at each other, Hermione saw there were tears in Harry's eyes.
"What is it?" she asked softly.
"I can't believe I forgot this," he breathed so softly she could barely hear him. "Forgot how it feels to be so close to you, to touch you like this…" moving his hand in a way that made her catch her breath and arch closer to him.
She shook her head slightly. "Shh," she whispered, lifting one hand up to touch his face gently, tracing his scar with her fingertip and then with her lips, feeling him relax into her touch, before she drew back just enough to meet his eyes again. "I said no more apologies, remember?" she reminded him. The slightest of smiles crossed her lips. "Just love me."
And this time he smiled, the smile which she knew she was the only one who ever saw, the one that made his eyes seem lighter, clearer, like new leaves on the trees in the spring, the smile that said more than any words could, I love you.
"Always," he promised softly, his voice deep and slightly husky with sincerity. "I'll always love you," he repeated, suddenly remembering how he'd once told her that the only certainty of his future was her… He'd been wrong… The other certainty was that he'd love her; he'd loved her for so long even before he knew it; she'd been with him for so long he didn't know how not to love her…
The moment felt sacred and Hermione had the fleeting thought that this was what wedding vows were for: this feeling, the knowledge that went beyond intellect to touch her very soul, that this man, this feeling, this love was forever… For better or worse, even after death did them part… This was Destiny…
She knew he felt it too; she could see it in his expression, the wonder in his eyes. She nodded, sealing their vows with just one word. "Always."
And they both knew, as they kissed again, that it was true, no matter what the future held in store for them. Always…