DISCLAIMER: HARRY POTTER and all related names and indicia are J.K. Rowling's. In other words, I don't own it, so you'd be wasting your time suing. I also ask that you please do not stalk Daniel Radcliffe. (That's my job.) EspÍo tu hijo. ¿Dónde esta el? (You should know, but if you don't, I'd look it up.)
A/N: Wow! Thanks so much! I just wanted to let you guys know that I really appreciate you taking the time to review. That said, on with the fic!
Chapter Two
And I Love Her
"I give her all my love
That's all I do
And if you saw my love
You'd love her, too
I love her...
"Bright are the stars that shine
Dark is the sky
I know this love of mine
Will never die
And I love her..."
"And I Love Her"
-by The Beatles
I usher Hermione into the kitchen and sit her down at the table. She sits in shock, staring straight ahead while I make tea. It's finally hit, the realization that Harry has come home. We've talked about what would happen if he ever returned. 'I'm through with him, Ron!' she swore to me one night in The Snitch. 'If he ever comes back, I'll... I'll... I'll hit him in the face!' I didn't believe her... She was drunk, for Merlin's sake! I guess I should have.
I pour the hot beverage into a cup and make it just the way she likes it- honey and just a hint of milk- but I add something extra tonight; a potion for a dreamless sleep will help clear her mind.
I hand it to her and she absentmindedly takes it. "No, thank you..." she says quietly, sipping it.
Yeah... She's upset. "Listen, 'Mione... Go to bed. Sleep... That's what you need. Then tomorrow you can have a nice long think in a hot bath."
She nods, takes one more sip of her tea, and stands. "Wh... What?" She falls into my arms, asleep. Hmm... Potent stuff. I carry her upstairs and lay her on our bed. Then I just watch her.
I love watching her sleep. I love how she nestles her head down into the pillow and the way she sighs in her sleep. I love watching her chest rise and fall and how she parts her lips slightly and turns up the corners of her mouth into that sweet grin. I love how she hasn't changed at all these last eight years. I love how bushy her hair is and the way it spreads over the pillow. I love the rosy blush that paints her smooth skin. So, I think the conclusion we can come to, is that I love everything about her.
And I love her. But I knew that. I've always known that.
When I was little, my mother told me that every time a baby laughs for the first time, an angel gets its wings. Hermione may not be a baby, but the first time she laughed after Harry left was beautiful, and I'll be damned if a thousand angels didn't get their wings that day. It took her so long to laugh... When Harry left, she could not function. She gave her speech (the one she'd worked so hard on for nine months and practiced in the mirror for hours at a time) at the Farewell Banquet in a monotone voice and fought tears the entire time. Afterwards, she would cry and cry or just sit and stare. It was like Harry had taken her soul with him and left her body. In a way, he had. She was a shell. Empty.
Did he not realize she was mad for him? That leaving her would kill her? Then he has the nerve to come back eight years later like nothing ever happened. Now, don't get me wrong, I'm glad he's not dead, but why wait eight years? Why not owl or Floo or contact us somehow?The little voice in my head that sounds strangely like my mum says,You know the only person who can give you those answers is Harry.
Yes, I know... But I don't want to talk to him.
He saved your life on more than one occasion... That nasty, little voice comments.Remember? Don't you think you owe him?
I never asked him to play the hero...
Would you have left him to die?
You know I wouldn't have.
Isn't leaving him wondering almost the same thing?
I pull the door closed and grab my cloak. The voice (wow... how nutters do I sound now?) is right. He may have left, but he deserves to know the truth.
* * *
He is sitting at the bar nursing his jaw with an ice pack, a large, half-empty (or half-full if you're one of those optimistic people) of Firewhisky in front of him. I sit beside him. "You couldn't magic it away?" I point to the bruise.
He laughs mirthlessly. "I didn't try to... I reckon I deserve what I get."
"You do..." I state simply, motioning for a shot of Firewhiskey. I drink it and pay Dean.
"You never did mince words, Ron..." he sighs.
I stand. "Come on... We need to talk. Let's get out of here, Harry."
He shrugs, gives the ice pack to Dean and follows me onto Diagon Alley. We walk in silence for a minute, passing Fred and George's joke shop. "They're still in business?"
I nod. "Of course. They out sold Zonko's the year after you left and-"
"Well, I noticed that The Snitch is where Zonko's used to be... Things have really changed."
Thank you, Captain Obvious... "It's been eight years, Harry. Things are bound to change."
"Herm... She... I mean to say, she looks good."
And she's mine! I want to scream at him. "She's tough. She has to be."
"You guys were always the only constant in my life... And even now... I mean to say, it's nice to see that you two are still friends. At least one thing hasn't changed." He shoves his hands in his pockets. (How annoying... Talk about things that haven't changed.)
A thousand things are running through my mind right now... Do I tell him? Do I make him suffer? Remember fifth year in the Department of Mysteries? The horrible voice is back again. "Well..." Anyway, it gives me a good place to start. "Yeah... About that... We're married Harry."
He stares at me. I think he's in shock. "How long?" he says, quite calmly.
"It was eight years in November." I watch him. He shows no emotion. Good ole Harry... Always afraid to wear his heart on his sleeve.
"Why?" He looks at me, eyes shining in the dim light from the moon.
I shrug. How can I tell him? "It crushed her when you left, Harry. She... She just couldn't function. For the six months or so, she just kept telling us that you would come back for her... When we got married... I felt bad, Harry. Merlin, I felt bad..." How can I lie? How can I stand here and tell him that I felt horrible about it when there was that nasty little part of me that jumped for joy? How can I admit that I was almost happy when he didn't come back and I got Hermione all to myself? How can I tell him that-
"But I did say that! And look! I'm back!" He's trying to justify it to himself.
I shake my head. "No, it's been eight years, Harry. Look... I'm not... asking where you were. I'm just trying to say..." I look up at the February sky and sigh. "She waited and waited for you to come back to her, and... You didn't. She was crushed. And then... Ipicked up the pieces and helped her get her life back together-"
"Do you love her?" He cuts me off and we stop beside Gringotts.
I scoff. "You just don't get it, do you, Harry?"
"It's a simple question," he retorts. "Do-You-Love-Her?"
I sigh. "I always loved her." I grit my teeth and punch the wall. I see him flinch and rub his jaw 0absentmindedly. "but she always loved you. Don't you see? I just won by default. She just settled for me." I run a hand through my hair. "Look... I'd... I'd better be getting back to her, Harry. Meet... Meet me for lunch tomorrow at The Snitch. We'll talk more tomorrow... You and I both need a think. Maybe I'll convince Hermione to come!"
He raises an eyebrow at me. "Hermione?"
"Okay... Maybe not then. But I will talk to her. I'll tell her..." That you're a lying jackass... "I'll try to make her see..." That you're the biggest bastard that ever lived... "But what you have to remember about Hermione... When she gets her mind set on something, she never relents." I laugh in spite of myself. "Remember spew?"
He chuckles. "How could I forget?" He mimics a fourteen-year-old Hermione, "'It's not spew!It's S-P-E-W!'" Us laughing out here in the moonlight... It's almost like old times... But, suddenly we remember and stop laughing. We remember that we're not sixteen years old... We-well... I have responsibilities... "Hey, Harry... Do... erm... Do you have a place to stay tonight?"
He shakes his head. "No... I haven't actually thought about that... yet..."
"Oh... Well, good luck with that!" I slap him on the back and right before I Disapparate, I turn and say, "You might check with Gin... Of course... She's probably with Draco." The last thing I see is of Harry staring open mouthed at me. Mission accomplished...
* * *
"Harry!" I call as I run up behind him. "Harry! Wait for me!"
"Us!" Hermione catches up to Harry and me and grabs his hand. "If I didn't know better, I'd think you guys were trying to exclude me!" She laughs, but I know that she knows she's right.
"'Mione, love..." Harry looks at her. "Are you sure you want to tag along with us? You could be in your room reading-"
She shakes her head. "The man I love is leav-"
"Shh!" Harry and I shush her and we continue to Dumbledore's office.
"Right... Anyway... You're... you know... Tomorrow morning and you expect me to be in my room reading?"
He sighs and we stop in front of the stone gargoyle that has become all too familiar this past year. "Hermione..."
"Who knows when I'll see you again?" Her chocolate eyes sparkle with tears.
Harry kisses her forehead. "I'll be back in a week!" He grins that awkward grin, but his eyes show uncertainty. He's been well-trained, but he's not invincible. 'My mum's not here this time...' He told me earlier this morning. 'What if... I die?'
I can't convince him that he'll be fine. After all... He's Harry-Sodding-Potter.
"Drooble's Best Blowing Gum," Harry tells the gargoyle and we climb onto the staircase, Hermione still clinging to Harry's hand, and me... tagging along behind them.
It didn't really come as a shock to me when they started dating. I guess I knew it would always happen. I just always hoped that something would happen and I would get my chance. I've gotten used to it. Right now, I'm just assuming my normal position. Standing behind them while they cling to each other. Harry told me once that when he looked into Hermione's eyes, he could see forever. I seem to have the same problem.
"Ron?" Her sweet voice reaches my ears. "Ron... We're here." She touches my arm with her free hand and we step into Dumbledore's office.
"Mr. Potter..." He stands and shakes Harry's hand. "Ahh... Miss Granger... Mr. Weasley... I should have thought as much." Hermione stands to leave, but the headmaster stops her. "No, no... It's important for Harry to be with the people he cares about now."
Hermione looks ready to dissolve into tears... But, then again, she's looked like that for pretty much the last month. "Oh, Professor Dumbledore! Isn't there any way I can go with him? Please?" Her eyes widen and a tiny drop slides down her cheek. She wipes it away almost angrily. She knows she must stay strong for Harry's sake.
"I am sorry, Miss Granger... There is just no way." The wizened old man looks at her sympathetically... Well, I've been forgotten again... But I really should be used to that by now... It happens when your best friend is Harry-Bloody-Potter.
Hermione takes in a shuddering breath and sinks into her chair, holding onto Harry's hand tighter than I've ever seen her.
"Professor Dumbledore..." Harry says. "I'm ready. I know it. I just... I want to get it over with. I want to get it over with and come back and get on with my life... I want to have a normal life without Voldemort... Without the Death Eaters... I want a normal life with Hermione. And Ron." Yeah, I heard the way you said that. Adding my name as an afterthought. Go on Harry-Bloody-Sodding-Potter.
Professor Dumbledore looks over the tops of his half-moon spectacles at Harry. "You're sure?"
Harry looks at Hermione and then at (Surprise!) me. He gives me the tiniest grin and answers, "Yes."
Professor Dumbledore nods. "You leave from the Astronomy Tower at three tomorrow morning. Be ready. Mr. Weasley, Miss Granger I assume you will help?" I nod while Hermione whimpers and looks at Harry. He reaches over to her and pulls her toward him, gently stroking her hair as she buries her face in his chest and cries. Finally, she cries.
I sit for a while, trying to decide what to do. I eventually put my hand on her back and mutter along with Harry. There are tears in my eyes, too, and when Harry looks up, I see that his glasses have tiny spots on them. Hermione offers her arm to me and the three of us sit in a squashed circle, crying our eyes out... Who knows when we'll ever get to do so again?