HARRY POTTER AND THE DEATH OF THE OLD RULE
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by J. K. Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Author's note : I'M BACK! APOLOGIES FOR THE LONG DELAY in writing this chapter. I have a good excuse, though! My girlfriend and I welcomed our second baby in the world! Now, I will get back to finishing this story in the coming weeks. I aim to have it completed before HP and the HBP, so only a few chapters to go! Bear with me, and thanks for your patience.
Now I hope you love this chapter, all of you. It can't be half as pleasant to read as it was to write. Good reading!
CHAPTER 11
UNFORESEEN AND UNEXPECTED
The wind was blowing hard on the brisk September morning, making the first falling leaves twirl around, chilling the small gathered crowd to the bone as they listened to the minister talk of loss and grief, and yet of hopes of better days. Harry Potter, dressed in his best Muggle black suit and tie, was standing right behind Hermione Granger, holding both her hands as she gazed blankly at the two caskets ready to be lowered into their eternal resting place. She hadn't been herself for days, and most of the time all she could do was cry. The memorial service had taken a while to get organized, because of the police enquiries into the so-called "terrorist" attacks of the Granger clinic. To the relief of Hermione, her aunt and uncle had taken care of the numerous and tedious details and responsibilities associated with the death of her parents.
There were definitely two crowds present, even though a passerby wouldn't have been able to tell the difference - well, they may have had a doubt if they had focused on Luna Lovegood, whose Muggle clothes were … colourful, to say the least. The first group was Hermione's family, grief-stricken and saddened by the horrible loss they had just suffered a couple of weeks back.
And then, there were Hermione's friends, no less sad but undeniably belonging to another world. Muggles and Wizards, united around a single, tragic event - Harry's thoughts wandered for a moment to what Dumbledore had explained concerning the Old Rule. Cross-overs insured that both worlds would remain inextricably linked. Harry could see, on this sad morning, how profoundly true this statement was.
As the crowd slowly dispersed after the final "Amen", Hermione approached the caskets and, putting one hand on each, remained silent for a while. Harry, who had kept himself a few steps behind, had a plain view of the side of her face. Tears were flowing freely on her already flustered cheeks, and her eyes betrayed a deep melancholy, a sadness so profound that it would probably never go away. Maybe it was best, he thought, that he had never known his own parents. He had, at least, been spared the unexplicable grief that he was witnessing Hermione go through at this very moment.
"Goodbye", Hermione whispered … "I never got to tell you both one last time how much I love you. Well, I did - I do. But my heart is breaking, and - …"
She choked, unable to say anything more. She collapsed to her knees, and hiding her face in her hands, started howling in a desperate, inextinguishable wail, apparently unable to fathom the heartbreaking reality before her. Harry thought she could very well have a mental breakdown.
Harry had cause for worry.
Since the beginning of classes, she was distant. At first, Harry had given her space, knowing full well she needed to process her loss. But after a few days, he had tried to reconnect with her. But was willingly keeping away, apparently harbouring some ill feelings towards him. She barely spoke to him, and spent most of her free time either on long walks, or barricaded in her room in Godric's Hollow.
Harry could barely take it anymore. He loved her, and missed her. At least, she had asked him to come to the memorial service with her, and he had been glad - it was the most elaborate conversation they had had in a couple of weeks.
"Harry? The memorial service for Mum and Dad is on Saturday. Did you have other plans?", she had asked him shyly as they were having dinner the Tuesday before.
Harry had been dumbstruck. "No, Hermione! And of course if I did, I would cancel them. That is … You do want me to come, right?"
Hermione had looked at him with pleading eyes. "Well, only if you want … I would really need you though. But I'll understand if you don't want to, I have been somewhat distant."
"Yeah, I've noticed!" Harry had answered quickly, regretting the words as soon as he spoke them.
Hermione had shot him a scathing look, and Harry had instantly known she was more than upset. She was hurt. "Well, maybe I need space. Maybe I need to deal with the death of my parents. Maybe I need to deal with the fact that they died because someone wants YOU dead!"
She had gotten up angrily, storming to her room and slamming the door.
Harry, speechless and feeling as if he had just been punched in the stomach, had stormed outside to walk around. She was right, of course. Once again, he was responsible for someone's life, just because is name was Harry Potter …
There were no words to describe the constant, stabbing pain Harry felt around his chest whenever he thought of that burden. It was like having his heart caught in a vise, each event reminding him of the situation like one more turn of the lever, constricting it to the point of shortness of breath. He felt he had gotten away with a lot, over the years, but he hadn't been able to escape this one.
And it was, unfortunately, a big one … Every time Hermione would look at him from now on, she would be reminded of why her parents were gone. He wondered, in fact, if she was ever going to get past it fully.
So here they were, at the Memorial Service. Harry approached Hermione who was still kneeling, her gaze lost somewhere in front of her, obviously unable to move. He kneeled down behind her, and holding his breath, wrapped his arms around her tenderly, trying to let her know that he cared - and hoping she wouldn't keep him away again. To his immense relief, she quickly turned around and buried her face right below his shoulder. He gently caressed her thick, soft brown hair, and kissed her gently on the forehead.
"I love you, Hermione. I love you so much!" Harry whispered, with a hint of desperation in his voice. He was afraid that she could no longer love him, now that she more or less blamed him for the misfortune of her parents.
She looked up at him, and within her deep brown eyes, Harry thought he saw pain like he had never seen before.
"I - I - I love you too, Harry … In fact, I'm madly in love with you. That's why - that's why this is SO hard! I - I would have gladly died for you, but I never thought of THEM … My reasoning tells me it's not your fault, but my heart and gut tell me that if I wasn't involved with you this would have never happened. Your ennemies … they can get to you through me, and the people I care the most about! I have to live with that … I'm afraid I may not be able to bear such a burden!"
So there it was. Harry had been right, and felt totally helpless. A part of him wanted to scream and plead his case, but all he felt capable to do was cry bitterly. He had lived himself with that burden for years, and somehow had accepted that it was his cross to bear. His friends were at risk, just because he was Harry Potter. Yet, his worst fear had never materialized. But his luck, it seemed, had ran out. The person he cared the most about in the world had lost her parents.
Because of him.
Silent tears started streaming down his cheeks.
"I'm sorry, Hermione. I had always hoped that somehow, I would never cause you - or anyone else - pain like this. But who was I kidding?! It was bound to happen. Maybe I should exile myself somewhere, away from everyone. Maybe it's - perhaps it's best that we go our separate ways …"
Harry's heart was ripping as he said the words. He could no longer even imagine himself without Hermione. Death would certainly be more becoming.
Hermione looked at him intensely, terror appearing in her loving gaze. "NO! Harry, that's - it can't be the answer … As much as I hurt now, I know that losing you would hurt so much more! It … It would probably kill me, actually. My Mum and Dad would have wanted me to fight, and not hide or run away from a situation like this. They told me to never back down from what is right. Somehow, the answer lays there and I'll get through this … Just give me time, okay? "
Through his tears, Harry smiled with relief. He grabbed her, and held her even tighter, if that was possible.
"Your Mum and Dad were great people, Hermione."
Hermione gave one last look towards the caskets, and nodded. "Yes, they were. They still are ... They will always be, forever."
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"So, cousin … How are your first days at Hogwarts treating you?"
Draco Malfoy had spoken the words with extreme mockery in his voice. His face betrayed his state of fatigue, however. He had been living in hiding for days, constantly afraid to look over his shoulder, and hence was somewhat sleep-deprived.
The boy with long, greasy black hair looked up at Malfoy. "I'm doing quite all right, if you must know … But of course, you do know!"
"Oh, come on, Thomas! It's no big deal, really! Is a bit of … surveillance too hard for you?"
"Well I almost got caught the other night … That Potter, he's good. I'm not sure you should mess with this guy, I mean … I was sure nobody could see me, but he caught a glimpse of me in the dark, in the pouring rain. I barely escaped!"
Malfoy's face now showed some signs of worry. "Did he see you? Did he recognize you?" He tried to disguise any indication of panic.
Winslow thought for a moment, then looked at Malfoy confidently. "No, I'm quite sure he never got to see me. It was dark, it was pouring, and we were near the forest, so it's almost impossible he made my face."
Draco took in the information, and sighed with relief. "All right then. So? What have you been able to find out so far?"
Thomas Winslow combed his hair back with his hand, took a deep breath, and started talking.
"Well, if you had any doubt, Potter and Granger are indeed an item. I mean, they try to stay professional at school, but I see the way they look at each other … And I saw them kissing quite a few times."
Draco smirked with disdain. "And all these years, Potter kept telling everyone she was just a friend. What a flake! She is a dish, I will admit … If only there wasn't this Mudblood thing … I guess one could overlook it for the sake of … a bit of passion, if you get what I mean!"
Winslow made as if he hadn't really heard Draco's adolescent musings, and continued his report.
"Now there is something strange going on you may be interested to know about. Every evening, Potter and Granger get together and go to Dumbledore's office … But more than once, I've seen Dumbledore exit his office a few minutes later, without them. On a couple of occasions, I've stayed for more than four hours waiting for them to exit, but they don't. I think there's a Portkey in there, from which they travel back and forth to wherever they are staying."
Malfoy raised an eyebrow. "Well … Yeah, I guess you're right. Dumbledore's office is surely not fit to accommodate staying guests. Here's your assignement for this week: you should try, as much as possible, to find out where they go from there."
Winslow's face lit up. "Well, I was trying to do exactly that when I followed the Granger girl outside on that rainy evening. I thought she was going home alone, for once. But it turns out she went and sat under a tree for hours, until Potter found her. She … She was crying a lot."
Malfoy smiled with glee. "Ah ah! Trouble in paradise! Tell me … Are you able to listen in on some of their conversations?"
The greasy haired boy thought for a moment, and answered with some hesitation. "Well, it's hard, they often speak to each other on a very hushed tone, as … Well, as lovers do, you know? But I will research further, I know there must be a spell or charm that could allow me to overhear them."
Draco smiled. "Well, good work, Thomas. This has been enlightening. We'll meet again next week, same place, same time."
It was pitch dark as Thomas Winslow came out of Hagrid's old cabin. It was the perfect meeting place, since Hagrid was nowhere to be found these days, and everybody asssumed the old house deserted.
He looked at his watch: it was one o'clock in the morning. So far, he had never had any trouble circulating at night in the castle - and outside. He wondered, for a moment, how in the world Draco had managed to get access to the grounds.
"I guess there are things I still have to learn", he muttered to himself, pulling his hood and crouching to the ground as he started jogging towards the castle.
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Hermione was starting to get really scared.
It had taken her all her strength to get herself through her last class, after what she had witnessed when she had walked in.
A small group of Slytherin students was already in the class, and they seemed to be surrounding someone sitting at his desk. Unconspicuously, Hermione looked between two of the students to realize it was Thomas Winslow, who seemed to be playing with something on his desk.
It was one of the girls that first noticed Hermione's presence in the class, who was calmly laying her things on her teacher's desk as if not paying attention to them. She came to her, looking both dazzled and excited at the same time.
"Er, Professor Granger? You should take a look at what Winslow his doing!! He is quite good at Tranfiguration!"
Intrigued, Hermione approached the desk, students parting the circle to let her in. Winslow was playing with a black and brown ferret, that kept going back and forth his desk, each time hitting Winslow's hands who were conveniently keeping the animal at bay. He matter-of-factly looked up and brushed his greasy black hair to the side while holding the ferret with his free hand.
"Oh, good morning … Professor. I thought I'd practice my Transfiguration skills before class …"
He immediately did a small twirl of his wand, muttering a few unintelligible words under his breath. With sparkling drops of light, the ferret graciously turned into an antique gold pocket watch with chain, that Winslow pocketed as if nothing had happened.
With extreme sarcasm and a look of defiance, he looked up at Hermione. "Do you think this could get me a passing grade?"
Hermione held back a little, trying to refrain from expressing the silent scream that was welling up inside of her.
"Well, Mr. Winslow, this is indeed advanced Transfiguration. That would, during an examination, get you an `outstanding' mark … Of course -"
She looked around the other students before continuing. Slowly, they started backing away, sensing that a confrontation could erupt that they didn't want any part of. In a second, Hermione was alone facing Winslow, who looked as arrogant as ever.
"I suspect, Mr. Winslow, that some information about previous your previous school record has not been properly disclosed … It would be unfair to the other students, of course, if a previously trained Wizard were to sit in their classes …"
Hermione had spoken with a contained hiss more than a normal voice.
Winslow's smirk disappeared. "My family has made all necessary disclosures to the Headmaster, Professor Granger … Let's just say I'm considered somewhat `gifted', and that my parents made sure my talents were developed to their full potential."
Hermione was becoming angry now. No matter how good Winslow was, he could not compete with her - even though he didn't belong to a first year class. Lowering her voice in a very controlled fashion, she looked straight at him.
"Nevertheless, Mr. Winslow, I will examine this matter with the Headmaster. You may belong, despite your age, to a later year at Hogwarts." The class was now filling with students, and hushed conversation were turning into a deafening buzz as students were being filled in on what had just taken place.
Hermione then twirled her own wand, and the chair under Winslow turned into a huge round cactus. A shriek of pain immediately followed.
"Let's see how good you really are, Mr. Winslow …"
Turning briskly to the other students, Hermione said shrilly, "All right! Let's all get to our seats, the class will start in a minute".
From the corner of her eye, she could see Winslow wincing with pain and trying all sorts of spells with his wand to get his chair back - to no avail.
The class proceeded, and there were no more odd exchanges with Thomas Winslow, who kept shifting uncomfortably on his new "seat". The class finished and students slowly exited the class. Winslow, however, made sure to stay back, and that he was the last one to get up to leave. Before heading for the door, he stopped at her desk as she was closing her briefcase.
In a low voice, that almost had a sweet tone to it, he audaciously uttered, "You know, Harry Potter will not always be there to help you. You should be careful …"
Hermione's right hand instinctively went to her wand. She couldn't believe what she was hearing, and yet, her whole body was suddenly turning into ice.
"Is that a … threat, Mr. Winslow?!" she hissed furiously, ready to slap him across the face.
He erupted in a forced laughter. "No, no, of course not! I'm just … looking out for you, Professor. I've seen you around a lot with Professor Potter, and I'm afraid that you put too much confidence in his ability to protect you, if the need ever arose … Anyway, have a good afternoon!"
He quickly left the class before Hermione could do anything else. She was fuming. How dare he threaten her? He was a student! This was crossing the line. She left the classroom with a decided step, heading for Dumbledore's office.
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"Winslow? Are you sure? This is quite strange … He comes with the most impeccable references I've ever seen, and from a quite respectable family … If you count out the fact that they are related to the Malfoys, of course!"
Dumbledore had spoken with the calm voice that was so typical of these meetings. Suddenly, he peered in Hermione's brown eyes, trying to discern where to go next. He seemed struck with a new idea.
"Miss Granger, you've recently been through a lot … More so, in fact, than a lot of powerful Wizards I've known who survived to tell about it. Are you sure -"
Dumbledore paused and joined his hands, the tip of each of his fingers resting on their opposite counterparts. He continued softly.
"As I was saying, are you sure you're not reading too much into Mr. Winslow's behaviour? He might have just picked up a few tricks here and there, and is trying to `show off', as it were … He wouldn't be the first, actually!"
Hermione's jaw fell, and her heart sank. All of the sudden, she was once again the timid, insecure eleven year old girl that had come to Hogwarts to get acquainted with her "new" abilities. It seemed out of character for Dumbledore to question her like that, she thought. He had never done it before, but of course - she had always been in the presence of Dumbledore with Harry.
She quickly composed herself, and answered shrilly, "Of course not, Sir! His gestures and words were deliberate, and there is no doubt that he's mastered at least some advanced magic. Harry could confirm that as well!"
She bit her lip, frustrated. She had promised Harry they wouldn't say anything about them chasing Winslow on the Hogwarts grounds. Harry wanted to investigate further on his own before involving anybody else. So she couldn't give Dumbledore much substantial proof of what she was trying to say.
She was saved by Dumbledore, who smiled and lifted his hand before she could continue. "It's fine, Miss Granger, I believe you. I just had to ask, to gauge your reactions and weigh the health of your judgement - which is fine, as I see. Indeed, we do need to take care of this new … development. I will arrange for someone to monitor Mr. Winslow's whereabouts closely. Maybe we will learn something interesting there …"
Hermione, relieved, got up to leave, but Dumbledore waved her down.
"Just one more thing, I almost forgot! Harry will not be spending the night at Godric's hollow tonight, he has some Order business to attend to - my fault, I'm afraid. Hence, he told me to tell you to not to wait for him. He should be back tomorrow, however …"
Fear started showing on Hermione's face, but Dumbledore quickly added, with a somewhat duplicitous smile, "Oh, don't worry, he will be absolutely safe … No, this task involves nothing of the dangerous kind - well, at least not the dangerous to which we are all accustomed!"
Hermione left, puzzled. Why would Harry go on assignment without telling her? She despised secrecy, especially when it involved Harry.
And what was that weird allusion to "danger" they were not "accustomed to"?
As she walked the deserted corridors on her way to her classroom to prepare for her next group of students, she started musing out loud.
"Isn't our life complicated enough, without `secret' assignments? Harry, there better be a good explanation for this!"
She was starting to feed her own confusion and anger with wild thoughts of betrayal and doom when she was almost knocked over by Ginny - who apparently had been running for quite some time, judging from her gasping for breath and the sweat shining on her forehead.
"Oh, finally! Hermione! I was afraid I wouldn't get to talk to you before you left! Harry gave me this envelope this morning, and told me to give it to you personally, that it was a very urgent matter. I've been running around for the last hour trying to find you!"
Hermione put on a fake laugh for show.
"Well, I was with the Headmaster. What's this about, anyway?" she said, taking the envelope from Ginny.
She opened it, and after a few seconds, blushed furiously, and smiled dreamily at Ginny.
"Oh, Harry … That's so sweet of you!" she murmured. She was now reluctant to continue talking with Ginny, and started folding back the letter slowly.
"What is it? Show me!" Ginny grinned as if she had known all along that she was being an accomplice for some kind of stratagem on Harry's part.
Hermione, keeping the letter folded and close to herself, simply replied. "It's … an invitation, that's about all I can say! For tomorrow, for - my birthday!"
Ginny's eyes widened.
"Oooh! I see ... Well, promise me you will tell me all about it, okay?"
Hermione desperately wanted to be alone now.
"Ok, right. I'll tell you the whole story."
Hermione left running to get to her empty classroom, where she could be alone to read her letter more carefully …
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Harry was somewhat nervous. He had been trying since the wee hours of the morning to do something different with his hair: charms, spells, Muggle gels, hairprays and lotions, but nothing worked. It was like trying to get Hagrid to fit into a regular set of clothes - just impossible under normal laws of physics.
The rest of his clothing was impeccable though. He was wearing a brand new pair of jeans, and a dark blue sweater with a high turtleneck that opened down about halfway with a zipper. It was the latest fashion in London, and he had bought it specially for this occasion. He had also splurged. He had purchased new glasses. He figured it was about time, and instead of the round, black-rimmed glasses he had wore all his life, he was now sporting a sleek, designer pair of glasses that coordinated nicely with his green eyes. They gave him a whole new appearance, imparting him with a stylish, modern Londoner look.
"Wow, Potter … You look good!" he said as he surveyed himself in front of the mirror.
With the glasses and the clothes, the hair didn't seem to matter at all. In fact, he had seen "messy" hair in fashion magazines, and his wasn't too far from the pictures.
It was September 18th. Hermione was turning nineteen years old today, and Harry wanted to make it special. After everything she had been through in the last few weeks, he felt she deserved something dazzling. He had planned the whole day carefully. First, they would apparate to Paris. It was her favorite city, she was talking about it all the time. They would get there around mid-morning, and then eat at a little café she often spoke about. It was, according to Hermione (and Wizard Travel Magazine, for that matter), the most romantic place on Earth.
They were to meet on the porshe of the house in Godric's Hollow, where Hermione had spent the night as usual. Harry knew she was safe, since there was always someone watching the house.
"They've been quite discreet, I must admit", Harry thought out loud.
Not once had they ever seen a sign that one - or even two - members of the Order had been watching the house in Godric's Hollow.
Having planned his strategy carefully with the help of Albus Dumbledore and Ginny, he had immediately flown to Number Twelve, Grimmaud Place. Harry thought it relatively safe, since they had a very good knowledge of Maldermort's whereabouts, thanks to their new "informant". Besides, the killing spree had stopped shortly after Hermione's escape from Romania. It seemed that Maldemort was trying to regroup, and plan his next move.
He had been storing his purchases at the old house, sending packages with Hedwig who still had the roof access to the house. He had found all the packages neatly piled on the work table of his study.
After one last look in the mirror, he checked his watch. It was 8h45.
"Time to apparate!" Harry said to himself. He concentrated quite easily on his target, and disappeared with a loud crack.
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The day was perfect so far.
Hermione was stunning; she was wearing a simple, yet spectacular short-sleeved chiffon white dress that blew up - in a Marilyn Monroe fashion - when the twirling winds coming from the intermingled narrow street of Paris blew hard enough. She had left her hair loose, as opposed to the usual pony tail or bun that she often sported these days. And she was wearing, of course, a beautiful pearl necklace that she had received just recently …
They had had lunch at Chez Henri, that infamous café that was supposedly the most romantic place on earth. Located in St-Germain-des-Prés, overlooking the Saint-Sulpice fountain with its crafted sulpture of lions and breathtaking majesty, the café was crowded with people and overlooking the streets that made their way, as branches of a star - so typically Paris - to the square surrounding the fountain and the Cathedral. Despite being located in a very busy sector of Paris, it still retained the aura and feel of a little neighbourhood restaurant, with violinists and street musicians delighting the customers installed on the outdoor terrace a serenade or folk song. Flower merchants also passed regularly, and even Harry, who wasn't quite enclined to serenades and abundant flowers, was taken aback, and impressed.
Hermione, since their arrival to the café, had become mute. She apparently was torn between wanting to laugh and giggle, and cry all at the same time. Her mouth sometimes opened to speak, but all she could do was look at Harry and smile, and then sigh. Her cheeks were bright pink, and appeared intent to stay that way - she was just blushing too much. It was astonishing to her: she had mentioned the place only once or twice to Harry, and he had seemed so … casual about it. And yet, she had spent many days of her childhood in that neighbourhood with her parents on their summer trips to France, and there was no place on Earth she loved more. Sometimes, when her parents were in Paris for dental conventions, she would come here all by herself, and find a seat on the stone terrasse overlooking the Jardin du Luxembourg, and read for hours at a time. This area of the city was an extension of her very soul, the expression of the peace and calmness that until a few years ago, had been her idea of heaven.
They spent some of the afternoon shopping, and just taking in the beautiful scenes. Harry took her on a Bateau-Mouche ride, and as they held hands and watched the wonderful scenery, riding smoothly on the River Seine, Harry was overtaken by the depth of his love for Hermione. They had been through so much together, and yet he felt he barely knew her. He knew he could never turn back from this, that this was it. There would never be love so pure, so passionate, so overwhelming for him.
He had had romantic feelings before, for Cho and even Parvati Patil, at one point. But nothing - nothing - was even close to this. His heart started accelerating at the thought of being without her …
And yet at the same time, he felt this love so fragile, so inexplicably volatile. He often wondered if Hermione felt the same.
The last stop of the day was back at St-Germain-des-prés, at the Jardin du Luxembourg. Harry had called a small restaurant the day before, and had them prepared a picnic basket. Hermione's face was radiant when she saw Harry come back with a rose in one hand, and an enormous basket in the other one.
"Harry! This is too much! First the romantic lunch, then the boat ride, and then … this! I don't know what to say …"
"Well, just say you love me", Harry replied, with a huge smile on his face.
He gently put down the basket, gave her the rose, and without warning lifted her up from the ground, as a newlywed groom picks up his bride to pass over the threshold of their new home.
"Harry ! What are -"
He bent down just enough to catch her lips with his, and kissed her, giving way to the firy passion that had been boiling inside him all day. She grabbed him behind the neck, having apparently withheld the same sort of feelings.
They had to stop after a few minutes, Harry's arms starting to show signs of fatigue.
"Oh, Harry … Of course I love you, I love you so much! This is the most memorable birthday anyone has ever given me. I will cherish it always!"
"I was kind of hoping you would!" Harry was relieved that his whole plan was finally coming to fruition. He had been scared of a glitch for the entire preceding week.
The sun was starting to touch the horizon as they enjoyed the last moments of this triumphant day. They were lying down on a thick blanket on the grass, looking at the sky, and for a brief moment, Harry could have sworn they had not once worried about the Order of the Phoenix, Maldemort, the killings, Hermione's parents, the Old Rule, and Thomas Winslow. For a microscopic instant in time, there was only him and her, and the love they had for each other.
With the day coming to an end, however, a knot of terror was increasingly growing in the pit of Harry's stomach. There was one last thing he had planned …
This fear, however was different. It wasn't the fear of a known or visible enemy, or of a threat that could be thwarted. Rather, it was a fear that threatened the core of his very being, of his own identity. If what he was afraid of came to pass, it would shatter him - it would perhaps shake him to the point of never being able to function normally again.
And yet, there was only one way to tackle it. He had to act - now.
Hermione seemed to have noticed his mounting anxiety, and turned slightly towards Harry. Their faces were almost touching as the sky above them was slowly turning to a spectacular pot-pourri of purples and pinks with the onset of the evening.
"What's the matter?" she whispered, kissing him softly on the lips.
Harry fumbled with something in his back pocket.
"Well, I almost forgot to give you your birthday present!" Harry's face was turning quickly to an unprecedent shade of violet, and delicately reaching for Hermione's hand, he closed her fingers around a small, cubic like object.
"Harry! You mean to tell me this day hasn't been my present? There's more?! You're too much, Harry Potter … Now I know why I love you!"
Feeling the object, she brought her hand near her face, looked - and suddenly gasped for air. She was holding a small, black velvety box that reminded her of the one containing a particular neckace Harry had given her not too long ago, and that was now haning around her neck.
She sprung up in a flash, very excited, and started pacing, her whole body having suddenly taken a very business-like demeanor, her eyes not leaving the box one instant. She brought her other hand slowly, and with circumspection, opened the lid.
For an instant, time stopped. She closed her eyes, and in her mind she relived a morning long ago, when aboard a train she had first met Harry Potter, and had fallen in love - unbeknownst to her then, of course.
She opened her eyes again, and saw gold … But more to the point, she saw a huge precious jewel … A diamond, to be precise, that glittered magnificently from the last firy rays of sunlight, desperately trying to stay alive as the sun continued its drop below the horizon.
"Harry … What? Harry!! No, you can't, this is way too …"
Her voice was barely a whisper, and tears started welling up in her eyes.
Harry had straightened up, but as she turned around to look at him in a daze, Hermione saw that he had remained on one knee. Instantly, she realized what this instant had now become, and how this glorious day would conclude.
She lifted both hands to cover her mouth, in a state of shock and utter disbelief. She was literally trying to catch her breath, and tears were streaming down her cheeks as a powerful wave of emotions overtook her.
Harry was beet red, but managed to grab Hermione's hand. He had to talk, Hermione was about to pass out. But the words were so hard to come by, apparently stuck in his throat - which incidentally felt drier than the Sahara desert at noon-time.
"Hermione … Will you m-m-m - Would you m-marry me? Please?"
Hermione's legs buckled, and she fell down on her knees, shaking and crying - but laughing at the same time. She threw herself on Harry, hugging him harder than he could ever remember.
"You are CRAZY, Harry Potter! Positively insane! A nut job, for sure!" Hermione had buried her face in Harry's neck, still trembling.
Having some difficulty breathing because of Hermione's grasp of him, Harry tentatively managed to speak again. "Does that mean, er … `yes'?"
Hermione backed away, her face wet with tears, and kissed him. She kissed him again, and then, one more time. Finally, she uttered the words he'd been dying to hear for the last two minutes or so.
"Yes", she said shyly. "Harry, you're the love of my life … Of course I will!"
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