A Story Told

neni

Rating: PG
Genres: Drama
Relationships: Harry & Hermione
Book: Harry & Hermione, Books 1 - 5
Published: 15/08/2004
Last Updated: 15/08/2004
Status: completed

Harry narrates the story of two people that learnt the true meaning of love... Two worlds so different yet they have the same weakness...

Chapters

1. Getting There

1. Getting There

A/N: (I haven't changed the story, but I thought it was necessary to put “some” description of the kids…) 02:14… damn!! No plot … no nothing! Just me rambling on. I think that I like it though. It's in Harry's POV. Hope you enjoy it!! Really I haven't put that much details in, but I think that if I had done that, then the whole “point” would be gone…

Thunderstorms. I've always hated them. Not because I was afraid of the boisterous sounds or the quick flashes that made shadows look like evil monsters, but because of how she reacted whenever a thunderstorm broke out. I can feel a sad smile tugging at the sides of my lips and I eventually feel a smile forming. It's been a while since I cracked a genuine smile. Nearly 2 years I suspect, yet the mere thought of her always brings a smile to my face.

I remember when we were back in Hogwarts and I used to sit in the common room late at nights to think. I couldn't go to sleep because nightmares always came to haunt me. Faces falling through that damn veil. Green flashes and high-pitched laughter. People that I love being murdered right before my very own eyes. Hermione laying unconscious on the floor and me not being able to wake her up. Dear God no wonder I never went to sleep. I've blabbed on enough haven't I? Well as I was saying. Thunderstorms. I was sitting once in front of the fire, entranced by the flickering flames licking the logs as they died down. It wasn't very chilly but a huge thunderstorm had been going on outside. I had my eyes closed when I heard a soft sob in the background. I opened my eyes and met the most beautiful brown orbs I've ever seen. It was in that moment that I realized that she was the one.

She was wearing her white nightgown and on top her Gryffindor robe. Her eyes flickered with fear and I immediately understood the reason for her insomnia. I flashed her a weak smile and patted the floor next to me, beckoning her to come over. She gladly came with no hesitation whatsoever.

After a few moments of silence, I gingerly placed my arm on her shoulders and she rested her head on my shoulder. `Right,' I remember thinking, `the difficult part was over' and I let out a breath of relief. She must've heard because I then distinctly remember her telling me

“My, my, my. Don't tell me the great Harry Potter is afraid of a girl rejecting him, now is he?” with a teasing smile to go with it. All trace of fear was erased from her face and I, for one, was grateful about it. I loved to see her smile. The next thing I remember is how her soft lips felt under mine. God her hair always smelt like strawberry, ever since our first year. After that, our conversation took a turn towards weather. “So you're afraid of thunderstorms?” I had asked her gently. She nodded in my chest as I held her close. I didn't want to push her more because I knew that with the change in our relationship, she didn't need anything more to upset her.

God, the smile hasn't left my face! Imagine that. I, Harry Potter, have a smile on my face for - five whole minutes. I better sit down. The grass is ever so soft and a tad wet from the previous night's thunderstorm. The air has that special smell after rain has come to contact with the earth. I lay back with my hands acting as a pillow for my head. I blow upwards as an attempt to get the messy, jet-black locks away from my eyes so I can have a clear view of the sky-blue.

Come to think of it, my relationship with her has never been a normal one. Some said it was that thing that people rarely got to experience. That we were those couples that you only read in books and saw in movies. We were their role models and if we could get through anything, then it gave them some hope. It was what they needed in time of war. It gave me some satisfaction that I did something without anyone getting hurt because of me. At least I did something right, but it was only because she was with me. She made me want to be a better man. No one understood me like her. No one else saw Harry Potter as Harry. She was my rock, my saviour, my soul mate, my everything. I can't believe that I spent the better part of my 6th year in Hogwarts trying to convince myself that she was better without me.

You see, that's how I get sometimes. I tend to put others before me and that often proved to be rather daft. Thankfully, a certain Hermione Granger was there to set me straight. If it hadn't been for her, I would never have won the war with Voldemort. If I hadn't had a motive I would have never found the will to get up after the fateful blow from Voldemort. Sure I had to protect the lives of innocent people, but more importantly I had her to save. After everything that we went though, I couldn't let it finish there. I had to get back to her. And get back to her was what I did.

Love. If it was one thing that Voldemort couldn't understand was that. Plain and simple. I never knew love while growing up but when I met Hermione Granger, I learnt what it meant. She gave it a whole new meaning. I finally realized what true love was. I would die for her and she for me, albeit I'd never let her do that. Loving someone so much is indescribable. I don't believe that I can put down in words what she means to me. She is … she's … I let out a sigh of frustration and run a hand through my hair. I close my eyes and breathe. She's Hermione. She's my Hermione.

For our honeymoon we went for a cruise around the world. The word `interesting' just won't do it justice! We arrived in Liverpool and went to a museum at Hermione's request. I could never say no to her. Well, we reached the Titanic part. You know, that big ship that hit an iceberg and sank. Hermione was very fascinated in the pictures and went to look at them. I was looking at a very huge metal, debating with myself if I should touch it or not. Well anyway, during this I heard an intake of breath and looked up to see Hermione with her hand over her mouth, eyes wide open. I rushed over to her side to see what had got her all upset and was prepared for everything but what I saw. It was an old, battered black and white Muggle photograph of Hermione and myself, but slightly older. We must've been in our early 30's. I was wearing an all-black tuxedo and had a very thin moustache. Hermione was dressed with a white dress that seemed to be giving her problems to breath. Underneath it was a small caption that I seem to remember that it said:

Passengers, Alexander Potter and his fiancée Helen Granger, on the Titanic's maiden journey to New York. Were the only bodies that were never found. 1st class yet they remained unaccounted for.

The only explanation that we could come up with was that the people in that photograph were our past selves.

I let out a sigh of bewilderment at the mere memory of that. How odd it is. My God, it seems that I've been here for hours. What time is it anyway? OH no! It's gone past 5! Damn! I was supposed to pick up James from practise 15 minutes ago. If Hermione was here she would've picked up James ages ago and picked up Jane from The Burrow.

I get up and dust myself off.

“Well I'd better be off love.” I say softly as my whisper is carried on a gently breeze like the ones that used to carry our laughs at Hogwarts. “Don't worry. I'll be back tomorrow, same time.” I move forward a step and bend down a bit so that my lips touch the cold stone. I take a step backwards to read the inscription that so much thought had gone into.

Hermione Jane Potter

Beloved wife and mother.

19th September 1980 - 20th September 2010

My angel, my rock, my saviour… my everything.

We will meet again…

I shake my head slightly at the absurdity and irony of it all. Wizards have found a weak shield for the Avada Kedavra curse, Muggles have found ways to clone people, yet neither kind has found a cure for cancer. I feel hot tears prickling my eyes and I blink quickly, so as not to let them fall.

“Damn it all,” I say and get in the car to pick up James from Quidditch practise.

Sometimes I wish we had more time together yet when I think of our times together I realize that I wouldn't change a thing. Sometimes waiting for that break to make everything okay, life passes you and you miss it. Looking back, I see that such a thing didn't happen to us. I'm happy for our time together. Maybe one day I'll see her again. Actually I'm positive about that. When two people are meant to be, they will always find a way.

I'm so engrossed in my thoughts that I never saw that truck coming for me… Someday soon Hermione… I'm coming love…

Three figures stood over the two gravestones.

Hermione Jane Potter

Beloved wife and mother.

19th September 1980 - 20th September 2020

My angel, my rock, my saviour… my everything.

We will meet again…

Harry James Potter

Beloved husband and father.

31st July 1980 - 20th September 2022

Left this world that he saved so young.

We are not sad, he has met her again…

The average-sized man got on one knee and lay a pink rose on both their graves.

“Thank you for showing me the true meaning of Love” James whispered softly, his messy, auburn hair being blown in the wind, while he closed his emerald green eyes to welcome the gentle breeze. The girl sat next to him and leaned her head on his left shoulder. In each of their eyes you could easily read the love they had for each other. Green met blue, while brownish hair clashed with fire-red.

“Come on you guys, we'd better head back. You wouldn't want to be late for your bachelor's party and you little lady, wouldn't want to miss your hen's night, now would you?” Ron Weasley asked his daughter with a teasing smile.

“I'll be back. I love you,” James Potter told them and got up. Jane Weasley followed his lead but also took his hand in hers. Together they walked back to the car.

“They are both great kids. I know that you're proud of James and I think that you would approve of his choice for a wife. I really do miss you. Both of you. But I know that we will meet again. Love you,” he kissed his index and middle finger and placed the two fingers on the gravestones. With a wistful smile he turned back and headed for the car. He wouldn't miss this wedding for anything. As he was heading back, a gust of wind blew by him and he was sure he heard

“Miss you too Ron…”

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