Ten years

Bingblot

Rating: G
Genres: Romance
Relationships: Harry & Hermione
Book: Harry & Hermione, Books 1 - 4
Published: 17/03/2003
Last Updated: 18/03/2003
Status: completed

Hermione reminisces, ten years after her marriage.

Chapters

1. Ten years- uploaded again

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1. Ten years- uploaded again

It has been ten years now.

Ten years ago, I became Mrs. Harry Potter. Ten long, wonderful years of being with my best friend in the world, my husband, my lover, father of my children. I could not be happier.

Beside me, Harry, my husband and I still feel so lucky that I am able to call him that, sleeps. Down the hall, my two wonderful children are also sleeping. Lily with my brown hair and her father’s green eyes, and Ben, with his messy black hair and brown eyes.

I still remember when I realized that I loved Harry. It happened at the end of our 6th year at Hogwarts. I was actually going out with Ron at the time. Ron and I had just had one of our regular fights, this time because Ron just could not understand that for me, the NEWT’s were more important than cuddle-time with him. I had stormed off to be alone and to fume at Ron’s insensitiveness and his complete lack of understanding of what was important to me. Harry found me where I was sitting underneath the huge oak tree, staring out at the lake. He didn’t say anything, just sat down beside me. And somehow just having him there made my anger at Ron go away. And that was when I realized that while I did love Ron it was as my best friend for 6 years. It was Harry that I loved and was in love with. It was Harry I wanted to be dating. When we got back to Gryffindor, I searched Ron out. We both started talking at once and we both said, “I don’t think this is working. I’m sorry.” When we realized what we had said, we stared at each other, then laughed and then hugged and that was that. Ron and I were just best friends again and everything was fine. That is, it was as fine as it could be when Harry wasn’t in love with me.

Then at the end of our 7th year, Harry told me he loved me. I remember that night like it was yesterday.

It was a beautiful night and we were celebrating the downfall of Voldemort. We had finally defeated him and now Harry was out of danger for the first time since he was 11. But even in our joy, we never forgot the people we had lost, Hagrid, Headmaster Dumbledore, Percy Weasley, and their memory made us all a little quieter and more respectful than we usually were at celebrations. Harry especially was subdued. He wasn’t really celebrating with us at all. He’d only come to the Celebration feast because both Ron and I had dragged him with us.

To this day, I don’t know exactly what made Harry do what he did but I was too happy to ask. Suddenly, in the middle of our celebration, Harry pulled me aside, away from where I had been talking with Ron and Ginny, and kissed me. Right there in front of all those people who were, most of them, watching us out of the corner of their eyes anyway, he kissed me. Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, the boy who’s still so insecure sometimes and who hates being the center of attention, kissed me in front of hundreds of our fellow students and friends.

I don’t like being the center of attention any more than Harry does usually and I am not the most demonstrative of people. But at that moment, with Harry’s arms around me and his lips on mine, I couldn’t have cared less that the entire room had gone silent and was staring at us. I forgot all about them, forgot all about the world. All that mattered at that one moment was Harry and that he was kissing me. The kiss ended sooner than I would have liked and when we broke apart, everyone started to applaud, while Ron, dear Ron, was cheering and grinning like mad, saying it was about bloody time. I didn’t even have time to blush and feel embarrassed, though, because Harry ignored everyone else. He just looked into my eyes with his green eyes that I loved so much and said, “I love you, Hermione.” I never knew before that four little words could change the world like that.

Harry asked me to marry him a year later. I am always amused at the memory of his proposal because it really didn’t go as he had planned at all. He later told me that he had been planning to ask me at dinner that night. He had made reservations at a nice restaurant, had arranged for us to be alone in a private room usually reserved for parties, and had requested candles and a bouquet of roses to be at our table. He had planned to ask me after we’d eaten. We’ve laughed over how wrong his plans went, and I once told him that I am actually glad that he proposed the way he did, because he proposed just when he was proving once again why he’s been my best friend for so many years and why I love him the way I do.

That day, I had had one of those incredibly bad days and I wanted nothing more than to go home to the flat I shared with Harry and Ron and cuddle up with Harry on the sofa. When I arrived home, Ron was out somewhere and when I saw Harry, I just burst out crying. He hugged me, wiped away my tears and listened patiently as I explained all that had gone wrong that day. And when I had finished crying, Harry proposed.

They say that a woman never forgets her first proposal. At least I know I never will. Harry turned me around to face him and looking into my eyes, he said, “Hermione, you’ve been there for me since I was 11. You’ve saved my life and you’ve always believed in me. It’s because of you that I am who I am, because of you that I’m a hero, really. I can’t imagine living without you, and I want to spend my life making you as happy as you’ve already made me. Marry me, please, Hermione Anne Granger. Marry me, be my wife, my love.” I was crying again long before he finished and threw myself into his arms.

Harry has teased me that I never actually said yes. I didn’t, really. All I actually said was “Oh, Harry!” My acceptance was in the kiss I gave him, the smile I gave him even through my tears.

We were married a year later. Ten years ago exactly.

I look at the clock and see that it’s nearly 5 in the morning.

Harry is still sleeping. He looks so young without his glasses on, his face peaceful and oddly vulnerable-looking in sleep. And as I watch him sleep, my heart swells and I realize, yet again, that I’m the luckiest woman in the world.

I bend over and drop a soft kiss on Harry’s forehead, where his scar is. My Harry.

I am smiling when I fall asleep again. Because I know that I have everything I ever wanted.

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