"Gemme another beer, Ron."
Ron Weasley sighed and grabbed another can of beer from the bar. "Harry," he said, "how long are you going to go on drinking beer after beer after beer?"
"Til I forget," grunted Harry in reply, grabbing the can. "And from the likes of it, that's not happenin' any time soon."
Ron frowned and sat down across from Harry. "Harry," he said, "I know you're really upset about Sara breaking up with you and all, but you've got to get over yourself, mate! Getting yourself drunk is no answer!"
"Yeah, but it sure helps," replied Harry, taking in mouthfuls of the brown liquid. "And what do you mean, 'really upset'? I'm more than 'really upset', 'k? I'm pissed off! I'm really pissed off! And how do you expect me to get over it so fast?! She just broke up with me two freakin' hours ago!!"
"But Harry, I'm sure you saw it coming," said Ron, with the air of one speaking very wise words. Harry looked up at him and shook his head.
"No, I didn't, Ron. I thought we were fine. I thought we were wonderful. I thought we were getting married. I really thought we were getting married. But noooo. Lil' Miss Perfect has to break up with me because she's found someone better to go out with. Some perfect boyfriend. Unlike me, who's probably the worst boyfriend ever known to mankind. And the worst person, too, probably."
Ron sighed. "You are not the worst person of anything," he said. "I can assure you that you're not. But what's this about Sara breaking up with you for someone else? You didn't tell me that!"
"Yeah, mainly 'cuz I've been too pissed off to tell anyone," replied Harry.
"So tell me now," urged Ron.
Harry sighed and said, "Well, Little Miss Perfect is going out with me, and then a big blob of perfectness and slicked blonde hair comes along, and she falls for him, and breaks up with me, and there you have it. The Failed Love Story of Harry Potter and Sara Eversham. Oh, and stay tuned for Part Two: The Successful Love Story of Draco Malfoy and Sara Eversham, soon to morph into Part Three: The Wonderful Marriage of Draco and Sara Malfoy, and, finally, Part Four: The Loveless Life of Harry Potter and All His Misfortunes. The End."
Ron shook his head, bemused. "Even though that was entirely sarcastic and cynical, it's still not probable," he said. "Well, okay, so Sara fell for that git and ran off with him. Doesn't mean you have to sit here and mope around for the rest of your life."
Harry turned glazed eyes up at him. "Ron," he said, "Sara was going to be the one. I really thought Sara was going to be the one, and that we were going to get married and live together and have children together and everything. And then- to have all my hopes dashed so quickly.... it's really heartbreaking, Ron. You wouldn't know."
"But Harry," said Ron quietly, "do you still love her?"
Startled, Harry looked up at him. "Love her?" he asked. Ron nodded. "Love... Ron... well... I can't say I do." He looked up at Ron helplessly. "I really can't say I still love her," he said. "I- I just can't. It seems like- now that I think about it, it seems like- like I never really loved her. Oh sure, I might've said it, but- I think saying you love and really loving are two- different things."
Ron nodded. "Exactly," he said. "So this breakup was exactly right for you. You needed this breakup to see the light, to see that you didn't really love Sara, that she was just one of your friends. Otherwise, you would have entered into a loveless marriage, which would have ended in divorce, and made you realize that you didn't really love Sara in the first place. That would have been the long, expensive, difficult way out. The way Sara did it- it was the short, quick, easy way out, and it was best. It might hurt now, but you'll realize sometime, Harry, that she was right to let go of you now. She may not have done it for the reasons we speak of, but her doing it now was exactly right."
Harry sighed and gulped down the rest of his beer. "Well," he said, "even if what you say is true, I'm still a loser. I'm single, I'm a bachelor, I'm pathetic. Nobody wants me. Nobody wants to marry me. Nobody wants to get near me. Even the one I probably really love wouldn't want anything to do with me if she saw me now."
Ron frowned. "The one you really love?" he asked. "The one you really love? Who would that be?"
Harry looked up at him miserably. "You know," he said. "You know. My best friend. Your best friend. Our best friend. The one I just figured out I've really loved for so long, but who probably doesn't love me back. Who definitely doesn't love me back. Who's probably found someone better and nicer than me to love. Who I'll probably never have."
Ron sucked in his breath. "Hermione," he breathed. "Hermione. Hermione! HERMIONE! IT'S HERMIONE!"
Harry stared at him. "There's no need to go loco, mate," he said. "Calm down."
Ron grinned at him. "You are not pathetic, Harry," he said. "You are not. You have a loving heart, and you have someone to love. Harry, true love will never be left unfound. True love will always find each other. It may not always work out, but true love will always be recognized, Harry. And your love for Hermione, Harry, is most definitely true love."
Harry rolled his eyes. "True love, schmrue love," he said. "That is such a cliche. I cannot believe how you can think that- what?"
Ron was staring out at the dance floor. Harry followed his gaze and sucked in his breath sharply.
There, heading towards their table, was a tall, beautiful woman dressed in tight leather pants and a glittering top. Her chestnut hair fell in soft waves down her back, and she walked with the air of one very graceful. On her feet were dainty high-heeled shoes, and her face radiated the kind of energy Harry knew oh-so-well.
"Holy God," breathed Ron. "Holy God Harry, is that Hermione?!"
Harry nodded, unable to keep his eyes off of her. "Hermione....," he said. "Oh my God, Ron, it is!"
The gorgeous girl reached their table and smiled radiantly at the two men sitting there, awestruck. "What's the matter, boys?" she asked, with the hint of a laugh. "Don't you recognize me?"
"Her- Her-" Ron stuttered. "Her-"
Hermione laughed, a pretty tinkling of sounds that sounded like a dainty trickle of water. "-mione," she finished for him. She turned to Harry, who still hadn't said anything. "Harry? You all right?"
Harry blinked and looked up at her. "Uhh...." he faltered. "I...."
Hermione laughed. "Tongue's got you too!" she exclaimed, then rested her elbows on the table and looked expectantly at the two of them.
"Hermione-" croaked Harry, "you- you- uh...."
Hermione rolled her eyes and grabbed his arm, pulling him up from his seat. "Oh, come on, you," she said with a grin. "Since you won't ask me to dance, I'll ask you to dance. Let's go."
Harry felt himself being pulled into the crowd by a gorgeous Hermione. As he went, he cast a last helpless glance back at Ron, who was grinning and egging him on. Rolling his eyes, Harry followed Hermione.
Once they had reached the very heart of the crowd, Hermione turned around and started snapping her fingers to the beat. Harry, very much flustered, tried to copy what she was doing, to no avail. After a few minutes, Hermione laughed and helped him.
Somehow, he got through the first song, and the second, and the third, and the fourth, and the next, and the next, and the next.... two things became very apparent to Harry: one, that there was never going to be a slow song, and two, that Hermione apparently had boundless energy and could dance for hours on end without stopping.
Finally, after about eight songs of heart-thumping melodies, a slow, almost whispered tune came on. Harry heaved a sigh of relief, trying to calm his pounding heart.
Hermione sucked in a slow breath. "This song...." she whispered, "it's...."
"....I Love You True," Harry finished for her. Hermione looked at him, startled. Harry shrugged, putting his arm around her and pulling her close. "Last day of Hogwarts. Seventh-year End of Year banquet. This song...."
Hermione looked up at him with something he couldn't quite make out in her eyes. "That's right..." she whispered, "but how...?"
Harry grinned and gently dipped her down, then brought her up and spun her around. "I danced with you," he said, spinning her out, then pulling her in close again. Gently, he placed a finger on her face and slowly traced her lips. "I danced with you... for this one song... and it's all that's been stuck in my mind all these years..."
Hermione closed her eyes as Harry's finger moved to her eyelids. She drew in a breath, then slowly let it out as he massaged her eyelids around and around.
Harry smiled and suddenly let her go, spiraling away from him. Hermione's eyes snapped open, and they focused on Harry's, full of warmth, sadness, and- joy....
Hermione gasped. "Me," she whispered, moving back towards Harry. "Me... you danced with me... I danced with you... you've been thinking about me... I've been thinking about you, too..."
Almost before she had finished her sentence, Harry's lips were on hers in a fierce motion. They both moved together, as if they were trying to crush each other's lips with the intensity they both had. When they finally pulled apart, gasping for breath, Hermione stared straight into Harry's eyes.
"All these years...." she whispered, "....we've loved each other. And now...."
"....we've finally realized it," finished Harry for her, and the two exchanged a radiant smile before their lips met again.