To Protect You

H_HrFan

Rating: G
Genres: Romance
Relationships: Harry & Hermione
Book: Harry & Hermione, Books 1 - 5
Published: 25/04/2005
Last Updated: 25/04/2005
Status: completed

He turned his gaze to her and for the first time in a very long time, she saw him. Not the angry, moody, quick-tempered Harry of late, but the Harry she’d managed to befriend more than six years before. “I’m scared,” he said with open honesty. “I’m scared that if I let you in, you’ll be taken away. I’m scared that Voldemort will take you and use you to get to me. I’ve dreamed of that night at the Department of Mysteries, Hermione. He already knows how scared I am that something could happen to you, he’s seen it. I’ve tried to distance myself from you to protect you—”

Chapters

1. To Protect You

1. To Protect You

DISCLAIMER: Still belongs to the lovely JKR. I suppose making up my own stories about him will have to do until she returns my calls, eh? *sigh*

A/N: I've been in the midst of a writing slump. This is something that I've sort of forced myself to write. I'm not completely happy with it, but I've been encouraged to post it, so I am. Please let me know what you think. I need some motivation! I really need to get out of this slump and back into the writing game…I actually miss it!

There might be a few errors in it, it was read but not beta'd. Let me know if you see anything blatantly obvious!

Thanks so much! I hope you enjoy it!

H_HrFan

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“I'm done talking, Harry,” Hermione exclaimed loudly as they walked through the portrait hole and into the common room. She immediately headed for the stairs to the girls' dormitories.

“Stop!” Harry shouted at her, as she raised her foot to the first step. “You may be done but I'm not.”

Hermione whirled around and cast him a deadly glare. “Excuse me?” she seethed. Her teeth were clenched and her eyes were open wide as she stared at him incredulously.

Not feeling the least bit intimidated by a look that could easily bring a troll to its knees, Harry stared back. “I said, I'm not done talking,” he said slowly, precisely, as though she were a child having trouble understanding the basic concept of conversation.

Hermione took a step forward. “What do you want from me, Harry?” she asked hotly, her breathing heavy as she tried valiantly to control her rage. “I tell you the truth and you don't believe me. Do you want me to lie to you? Is that it?”

“I want you to look at me and I want you to tell me if it's true,” he stated calmly, the clenching of his fists the only indication that he was near a breaking point. He looked at her closely, her head bowed, her breathing heavy, and her own tension visible in her stance. “It's true, isn't it? That's why you don't want to talk about it.” He studied her further. “I'm right, aren't I?” he added, his voice softer, but no less accusing.

“For crying out loud, Harry,” Hermione nearly yelled from across the common room as she took another threatening step toward him. “You don't have the faintest idea what you're talking about, do you? Does your stubbornness know no bounds?”

“Enlighten me then,” Harry yelled back, stepping closer to her.

“I'm not even going to give you the satisfaction,” she said angrily, shaking her head in disbelief. “I can't believe you even think you need to ask me.”

“I wouldn't feel the need to ask you if you'd just tell me the truth,” he said taking a few more angry steps forward. “What the hell is going on?”

“Why do you think it's any of your business?” she said in exasperation. “You've been nothing but moody and unpleasant since we got back. I've tried to be there in whatever capacity you needed me, Harry. You didn't want me there, remember? What makes you think I'm just going to rollover and obey your commands now?”

“You don't know what you're talking about,” Harry muttered half-heartedly, echoing her words.

“Well, I know enough to keep my mouth shut when I don't know the facts,” she retorted angrily. “Apparently that's more than I can say for you at the moment.”

“So you're telling me that what I've heard isn't true, is that it?”

“I'm telling you that you, of all people, should know me well enough to tell the difference between fact and gossip,” she said dispiritedly, taking another step forward.

Harry's voice dropped with hers. “I do know you,” he said more gently, “but there's always a bit of truth in every rumor. Tell me where the truth is Hermione.”

Hermione raised her head and looked at him defiantly as she stepped ever closer to him. “Always a bit of truth? Is that really what you believe, Harry?” she asked, sounding dangerously close to exploding again. “Tell me then, Harry. Where is the truth in the rumor that you lost your mind and that you were making up stories of Voldemort's return for attention? Huh? Tell me where the truth was in the rumor that I was stringing you and Krum along during fourth year. Tell me, Harry. Is there a bit of truth in there somewhere? What about the rumor that you were the heir of Slytherin and you were responsible for petrifying students during second year? Come on, Harry, tell me where the truth is!” Her voice had risen again and a few of the other students in the common room cowered at the fierceness with which she spoke.

Harry's eyes dropped to the ground as he contemplated what she'd said. He looked back up at her questioningly. “Then tell me why we never see you anymore. What do you do that keeps you so distant from us? Half the time we can't even find you in the library, Hermione. What've you been doing?”

Hermione shook her head incredulously. “So, because you can't find me, you're going to assume that the rumors about me and…?” Her eyes rolled back in thought. “Who is it this week, anyway?” she asked flippantly. “I seem to have lost track.”

Harry took the remaining steps toward her and reached for her arm. “It doesn't matter who it is,” he said gently. “I want to believe you, but I don't understand what you're hiding. Why can't you just tell me?”

“Why don't you tell me the truth about you, Harry?” she replied, quickly turning the tables on him. “Is it really Lavender now, or have you moved on again already?”

“You know those rumors aren't true,” he replied, looking directly into her eyes.

“Do I?” she retorted. “Seems to me that we're in a bit of quandary, doesn't it? You say you want to believe me, and yet you don't. I want to believe you, but I don't know if I can. Where has the trust gone, Harry? Can you tell me that?”

“Come with me,” Harry said suddenly, as he pulled her toward the portrait hole.

Hermione sighed and made a half-hearted attempt to pull away from him. “Where're we going?” she huffed, following him through the hole and down the darkened corridor.

“Just be quiet and come with me,” he said, his voice wrought with exasperation.

Hermione stopped abruptly and Harry jerked back and fell against her, knocking her down to the hard stone floor of the corridor. He released her arm and stumbled, barely able to keep himself from tumbling after her.

“Ouch!” Hermione yelled from her spot on the floor. “What is wrong with you?”

“You're the one who stopped walking,” he mumbled, as he tried his damnedest not to laugh at her. He held his hand out to her to help her up.

She brushed his hand away and sat, staring up at him petulantly. “What do you want, Harry?” she sighed. “I mean really, what's the point of all this?”

“Come on,” he said, holding his hand out again. “Come with me, there's something I want to show you.” She looked at him hesitantly. “Please?”

She reluctantly reached for his hand and allowed him to help her up. “Ouch!” she exclaimed as she rose to her feet. She rubbed her hand against her hip and tried to stretch her leg out to relieve some of the pain. She limped forward and Harry held on tightly to her arm.

“You gonna be alright?” he asked, his voice carrying a hint of worry while in his eyes, she could see him laughing at her.

She glared at him through the corner of her eyes. “You think this is funny, don't you? I'm going to have a bruise there thanks to you.” Her hand was on her injured hip as she limped along next to him for a few paces. “Where are we going?” she asked impatiently. “This hurts and I don't want to walk anymore.” She leaned against the wall and lifted her leg to take the pressure off her hip.

Harry backed up to her and offered her a piggy back ride. “Hop on.”

Hermione smiled and took the opportunity to kick him the bum. Harry stumbled forward, but remained on his feet. He turned to grin at her. “Think you're funny, don't you?” he smirked.

“Sometimes,” she smirked back.

“Well, you're either going to get on my back or I'm going to pick you up and carry you,” he said firmly. “Take your pick.”

“You are not picking me up,” she stated firmly.

“Then hop on,” he ordered, as he backed up to her once more. He braced himself in case she decided to try kicking him again.

“This is stupid,” she mumbled as she stepped away from the wall and the pain in her hip came crashing down again. She stumbled sideways and Harry turned and caught her in his arms. He picked her up and cradled her and walked briskly down the corridor before she could utter a protest. “Just take me back to the common room,” she muttered.

“I told you I wanted to show you something,” Harry stated, “and we're going there first.”

Hermione wiggled in his arms in an effort to get down. “Put me down, Harry,” she demanded. “I want to go to bed. Whatever it is can wait. I'm tired of fighting with you.”

“Then be quiet and relax,” he said gently. “No more fighting. We're almost there.”

Hermione looked around and while she knew where they were, she couldn't, for the life of her, figure out why they were there. She sighed heavily and crossed her arms over chest, making it more difficult for Harry to hold her as she steeled herself in defiance.

“You're going to make me drop you,” he said chuckling. “Stop being such a brat and put your arm around me before we both fall.”

Hermione sighed even more heavily and reluctantly wrapped her arm around his back. “What're we doing here?” she asked irritably.

“Hang on,” he said softly as though he didn't want to disturb their surroundings by being too loud.

He paced back and forth and focused on what he wanted. The door to the Room of Requirement appeared before him and he gently lowered Hermione to the ground, being sure to keep his arm around her waist to support her. He reached forward and opened the door. “Ready?” he asked as he tried to move her forward.

Hermione stubbornly held her ground. “No I'm not ready,” she said incredulously. She turned toward him, his face merely inches from her own. “What is this about? What makes you think you can question me, doubt my honesty, and then bring me to the Room of Requirement?”

Harry couldn't stop the laugh that suddenly erupted from within him. After a moment he finally got himself under control and he looked at her with smiling eyes. “What do you think I'm bringing you here for?” he asked, raising his eyebrows at her suggestively.

Hermione's mouth dropped open as she stared at him in shock. His laughter brought her quickly back to reality and her mouth snapped shut. “I'm leaving, Harry,” she huffed, “and I don't want to talk you again until you're ready to act like my best friend. You do remember him, don't you? He's the guy I've sacrificed everything for. You, you're a guy that gave up on our friendship when things got a little too rough. I'm here when you're ready to come back. Until then, please, just leave me alone. I don't even know who you are right now.”

She took a tentative step forward and stumbled against the wall as once again the pain in her hip escalated. She took a deep breath and gritted her teeth against the pain. She held onto the wall as she began making her way stubbornly, back down the corridor toward Gryffindor Tower.

Harry watched her for a moment in stunned silence. “Hermione, wait,” he called after her. She hesitated and laid her head against the wall. Harry closed the door and walked toward her, pausing when he saw her shoulders shudder and she turned her face toward the wall. She stood in silence, the occasional ragged breath the only sound she made. Harry stood, immobilized, until the sounds of her dragging footsteps brought him from his reverie. He walked quickly forward and placed his hand on her arm. “I'm sorry,” he said softly.

Hermione stopped walking and turned to look at him, the lines of her tears streaked down her cheeks. “Me too,” she whispered. She turned from him and began her long, slow walk down the corridor.

Harry walked beside her, but didn't touch her this time. “There really is something I want to show you,” he said softly. “Will you please come with me?”

She stopped walking to look at him once again. “What is it, Harry?” she asked heavily, her voice breaking. “I don't know how much more of this I can take tonight.”

He placed his hand on her arm and looked at her pleadingly. Hermione took a deep breath and sighed, dropping her head in resignation. Harry quickly wrapped his arm around her waist and turned her back toward the Room of Requirement. “What am I going to do without you there to do battle against me?” he asked, trying to keep his voice light as they walked.

“I'm always here, Harry,” she said on a sigh. “I've always been here, and I'll always be here. When your life is at stake, I'll argue with you to the death. But this…” she stopped walking and waved her hand between them as she looked into his eyes, “…this, I can't do anymore.”

They walked the last few steps in silence as each contemplated what had happened between them. What it was that had brought them to this point, when neither of them wanted it this way.

“Before we go in I need to tell you something,” Harry began. He dropped his eyes and moved to stand in front of her, keeping his hand on her waist. “I was telling you the truth about not being involved with any of those girls. They were rumors, just like the ones about you. Somehow, it just doesn't matter anymore. I'm really sorry for acting the way I did and most especially for not believing you,” he said quietly, reaching up to caress her cheek. “I'm sorry for a lot of things.”

Hermione closed her eyes and fought the urge to rest her cheek against his hand. She opened her eyes slowly, and looked into his. “What is it you want to show me?” she asked, her voice sounding tired and frail.

“It's true that I've been spending a lot of time with Lavender and Parvati, and a few others. But it's not what you think.”

Hermione sighed again. “I gave up thinking about it a long time ago, Harry. What is it that you want?”

Harry closed his eyes tightly as he fought back the tears that suddenly threatened to fall. Her words had cut him deeper than he'd thought possible. Could it be? He thought worriedly. Am I really too late? “I never told you how scared I was when I thought you'd died,” he said suddenly, seemingly out of the blue.

Hermione fell back against the wall and looked at him questioningly. “When you thought I'd died?”

Harry nodded. “At the Department of Mysteries,” he said weakly, his voice cracking. “I thought you'd died when you were hit by that spell. I thought that was it. I couldn't think. All around us, death eaters were just waiting for the chance to strike and I was paralyzed with fear. Where I could always hear your voice, the voice of reason and logic, I could only hear a buzzing sound. You were lost to me, and in that instant, nothing else mattered. I never told you that.”

Hermione closed her eyes against the welling tears. “Why now?” she asked, the sound barely audible to him amidst the sound of his pounding heart.

“I don't know,” he said hoarsely, his hand landed heavily against the door as he leaned on it for support. He closed his eyes and struggled to breathe through the knot in throat and the heaviness in chest. “I just thought you should know.” He turned his back to the door and slid down to the floor. His elbows rested on his folded knees and his forehead rested against his palms, his hands in his hair.

Hermione sat down heavily next to him and placed her hand on his wrist, pulling his hand down from his face in an effort to get him to look at her. “What's going on, Harry?” she asked gently. “You said you wanted to talk, so talk.”

Harry folded his arms on his knees and laid his head down on them, as he looked at her. “Do you know that you're my conscience?”

Hermione chuckled nervously and shook her head. “No,” she replied softly. “That must be pretty scary for you.” She tried to keep her voice light, but she couldn't stop the nervous tremor that accompanied her words.

“You'd think,” he said smiling feebly at her. He raised his head and looked down at his hands pensively. “Actually, it's what keeps me moving in the right direction. Whenever I think about doing something stupid or impulsive, it's your voice that I hear. You've become my voice of reason. It's something I can't live without, Hermione,” he added, looking up at her.

“What are you saying, Harry?” she asked, staring at him with a steady gaze, as she searched his face and eyes for the truth.

Harry took a deep breath and sighed. “I think I'm trying to explain why I've been acting so awful toward you—” he paused to study his hands again.

“Go on,” Hermione encouraged in a gentle, soothing voice.

He turned his gaze to her and for the first time in a very long time, she saw him. Not the angry, moody, quick-tempered Harry of late, but the Harry she'd managed to befriend more than six years before. “I'm scared,” he said with open honesty. “I'm scared that if I let you in, you'll be taken away. I'm scared that Voldemort will take you and use you to get to me. I've dreamed of that night at the Department of Mysteries, Hermione. He already knows how scared I am that something could happen to you, he's seen it. I've tried to distance myself from you to protect you—”

Hermione reached forward to hold the back of his hand. “What's changed? Voldemort's still out there. Why are you telling me this now?”

Harry turned his hand over and interlaced his fingers with hers. He stared at their linked hands as he spoke, “I can't do it anymore. I need you too much.” He grasped her hand tighter and turned his body toward hers. “You remember I told you about the prophecy?” he asked, his voice taking on an urgent tone, as though there was something he needed to tell her before it was too late.

Hermione nodded, silently encouraging him to continue.

“I've been thinking about it a lot and I wonder…” he stopped talking and released her hand. He reached up and placed his fingers under her chin and lifted her head until their eyes locked. He looked at her questioningly. “Dumbledore told me that my mother's love protected me from Voldemort when I was a baby. Do you think that love is still as strong, 16 years later?”

Hermione took his hand from her chin and held it in her lap. “Yes, I do,” she said honestly.

Harry shook his head. “I'm not so sure,” he said solemnly. “I mean, I know she loves me and I know that her love is strong, but—”

“What is it?” Hermione asked worriedly.

“Voldemort used my blood when he came back during the Tri-Wizard tournament. He could touch me. It seemed as though my mother's protection either transferred to him, the way his powers did to me, or that it was wiped out and that slate wiped clean.”

Hermione studied him through narrowed eyes. “What are you getting at, Harry? I need you to tell me, I know there's more. You're starting to scare me.”

“Sorry,” he said softly, “I'm not trying to scare you. I'm just wondering—” he paused once more and returned her narrow-eyed stare, “do you suppose you're the power he knows not?”

Hermione instinctually released his hands and jumped back away from him. She looked at him with a startled expression. “What…?” She paused, shaking her head as she let his words slowly sink in. She took a deep, shaky breath and looked at him in amazement. “Well, uh, we both know that I'm a, um, a good witch. I have a lot of book knowledge, Harry, but that's nothing compared to your own power. I don't see how…” she cleared her throat nervously, “…I don't think I could be the power. I mean, I'm not that powerful of a witch, I still have a lot to learn, and um…”

Harry reached up and placed his hand beneath her chin and lifted her head again. He was smiling at her in a way she'd never seen before. “That's not the kind of power I meant,” he said softly. “Everyone knows you're a brilliant witch, but spell for spell, even you can't defeat Voldemort. He breathes his ability, it's so ingrained in him that it's effortless. Neither of us can compete with that.”

“Then, what—”

Harry placed a finger to her lips to halt her words. “Can I try something?” he asked, moving closer to her.

Her heart beat loudly in her ears as it pounded wildly against her chest. Her breathing was shallow as she replied, “I don't know…” just as his lips brushed lightly against hers. She closed her eyes and moaned softly as a lone tear made its way slowly down her cheek.

Harry sat up and placed his hand against her cheek to gently wipe away the tear. He stared unseeingly at where his hand rested against her face and he watched as his hand, seemingly of its own accord, made its way into her hair. He lost his fingers in the soft, unruly waves and gently pulled a handful toward him. “I love your hair,” he said, his voice so soft that if he'd been talking about anything else, she might've thought he was talking to himself.

She reached for his hand and chuckled weakly. “Yeah, right,” she said, turning up one side of her mouth in the half-smile he'd come to associate with only her.

He reached up with his other hand. “Really,” he said a little louder. “I do. I love it. It's so…” his expression turned serious and he looked into her eyes, “…you.”

Hermione chuckled again nervously. “Harry,” she spoke his name on a sigh, “weren't you just questioning whether or not I'd really been sneaking off to snog a different guy every week? What's really going on? Why the sudden change?”

“Let me show you,” he said, standing up. He reached for her hand and helped her to her feet. She stumbled a little and Harry moved to put his arm around her waist to steady her. “I've wanted to do this for a long time, but it just never seemed right. I've spent so much time pushing you away and making excuses, trying to rationalize my own behavior that I'd never gotten the nerve to show you. Tonight I realized that I just couldn't take it anymore. I need you with me almost as much as I need air to breathe. And besides, I've been so miserable without you, and I've dreamt so often about the Department of Mysteries that by now, Voldemort already knows what you mean to me.”

“Show me,” she said softly, laying her head against his shoulder.

Harry reached forward and grasped the handle of the door. He turned it slowly and just before he pushed it open, he turned and placed a kiss on the top of her head. “I need you to know that I love you, Hermione,” he whispered in a voice so low she thought for a moment she'd imagined it.

She took a tentative step forward into the Room of Requirement and what she saw, took her breath away. “Harry—” his name escaped her like a soft breath of wind. She released him and stepped further into the room. She slowly turned in circles, taking in every inch of the room. “This is…”

“…the place of your dreams,” he finished.

“But how did you—” she began. She looked at him with sudden understanding. “Lavender, Parvati, and the other girls…” she said with resounding relief.

Looking around she felt as though she was in a study, with a beautiful view of the outdoors. She remembered the conversation and the way she and the other girls talked about their futures. They talked about what their houses would be like, what their favorite retreat might be, and some of them even spoke of who they'd like to be standing by their side when the time came to build a life. Hermione had never given much thought to that part, but the room — her retreat — was something she knew exactly. She'd had every detail as she closed her eyes and described her perfect place to them.

She envisioned herself in a medium-sized room, big enough for her books, but not so big that she felt small or insignificant in the space. It would smell of old books when the windows were closed, fresh cut grass and crisp summer air, when they were open. There would be a wall of windows to the side of her desk so she could look out into the world anytime she felt the need to lose herself in something besides work or reading. Outside the windows would be a small waterfall with the most magnificent sounds of water splashing on rock and damp earth. Across the base of the waterfall would stand a tall, white trellis, which would rise nearly as high as the waterfall, with a vine of bright red roses interwoven throughout its bars. To the left of the waterfall she envisioned a tall, sturdy tree with a wooden swing hanging from one of its branches.

She saw it all now. It was just as she'd imagined it. As she watched, a gentle breeze blew through and the swing moved and the sound of the water changed as the breeze momentarily blew it off its prescribed course.

“How did they…?”

“Pensieve,” Harry said, interrupting her. “I'd mentioned something in passing about wishing you had someplace to go besides the library to study. Lavender and Parvati overheard me and said that you had talked about your perfect place. I borrowed Dumbledore's pensieve and Lavender loaned me her memory.”

Hermione laughed. “Yeah, that makes sense,” she replied, rolling her eyes, “I was wondering how on earth they could've remembered all these details. I highly doubt they pay that much attention to me. This is amazing, Harry. I can't believe you did this.”

Harry moved closer to her and placed his hands on her shoulders. “I'd do anything for you. You have to believe that.”

Hermione put her hands on his waist and pulled him into a hug. “I do, Harry,” she said softly. “I do believe it.” She pulled back to look at him and she smiled mischievously. “My turn,” she said smugly.

Harry looked at her questioningly. “Excuse me?”

“You wanted to know the truth about me, I'm ready to spill,” she said, giving him that half-smile that he loved so much. “We still on for that piggy back ride?”

Harry laughed. “Depends on how far I have to carry you,” he said, playfully rubbing his back as though it was hurting just at the thought of her riding on it.

“Keep it up and I'll make you take the long way,” she joked back.

“All right,” he chuckled, turning his back to her. “Hop on.”

Hermione tried to hop onto his back and stumbled back as the pain jarred her hip. “Ouch!” she exclaimed irritably.

Harry lowered himself further. “Climb on, then,” he said, backing up closer to her so she wouldn't have to walk too far forward.

She climbed onto his back and it took him a moment to get his balance as the blood seemed to rush from his head as he stood up. He took a deep breath and situated her on his back. “We'll take the back way,” she said quickly. “I don't think I want people seeing me like this.”

“With your skirt like that,” Harry remarked, “I don't want anyone seeing you like this either.”

Hermione laughed as Harry made his way toward the door. She took one last look behind her as they walked through the door. “By the way, what do I need to think in order to get the room like this when I come back?”

“Sanctuary,” Harry replied simply.

“Sounds perfect,” Hermione sighed. “I can't wait to go back. You know, you're welcome to share.”

“Thanks,” he said, trying to turn around to look at her. On instinct, she kissed the top of his head. He couldn't help but smile as he trotted along with her on his back.

“To the left,” Hermione told him as they came to a new corridor. “It's three doors down on the right.” Harry followed her instructions and carefully set her down in front of the door.

She pulled her wand out of her pocket and pointed it at the handle of the door. “ALOHOMORA!” she said softly. The handle clicked and she turned it and pushed the door open wide. She fell against the side of the door and gestured for Harry to enter. Everything in the room was covered in old, dusty white sheets. It appeared as though the room hadn't been used for centuries. However, his seeker's eye caught the scattered footprints that led from the door to one of the tables and back again. Hermione gestured for him to follow them. He put his arm around her waist and slowly walked over to the table with her.

“This one,” she said, pointing to a sheet that looked much cleaner than all the others.

He pulled it back and dropped it unceremoniously to the floor. He clutched the table as a bevy of emotions overtook him. He closed his eyes and took a few deep, steadying breaths before opening them again. “Oh my—” he looked at her incredulously. “This is…” his voice trailed away as the emotions overtook him and he began to cry.

“It's not done yet,” she said apologetically, “but we're getting there.”

“We?” Hermione nodded. “Dean, Colin…all the others,” he said softly, as the truth dawned on him. She looked at him with a bit of sadness in her expression.

“Colin helped me pick the picture from his collection and, well, you know how well Dean can draw…” she paused, letting her words sink in.

Harry stood staring at the most beautiful picture he'd ever seen. It was a charcoal drawing with the most explicit, intricate details woven into it. In the background were his mum, dad, and Sirius, they appeared to be looking down from the heavens at him and Hermione. Hermione pointed to the picture. “Ron goes here,” she said, pointing to the other side of her. “Once Dean adds him in, he'll do some last minute touch-ups and then it'll be done. I was planning to give it to you the last day of school. But, since we don't really know what we'll be doing then…” her voice trailed away. “Well, this is probably best anyway.”

“Where did you get the picture of mum and dad and Sirius?” he asked curiously.

“Dean took Colin up to your room. They took a picture of one that you got from Hagrid. Dean only needed an idea of what they look like in order to draw it. You don't mind, do you?”

Harry looked at her thoughtfully. “Do you think Dean would make another one? I could pay him for it.”

Hermione shrugged, her expression one of obvious confusion. “I don't know. We could ask him I suppose,” she said hesitantly. “Why?”

“Because I'd like one with Ron in it,” he stated simply.

“But this one—”

“…is perfect the way it is,” Harry finished for her. “I'd like one of just the three of us, but this one here, with mum and dad and Sirius looking down on us, it's too perfect for just you and I. I don't want to change it.”

Hermione looked down at the picture, she was concerned that it would look unfinished and she didn't want that. But the longer she looked at it, the more she thought that Dean must have known something they didn't because really, there was no place for Ron in this one. She and Harry were looking at each other and smiling, with Lily, James, and Sirius smiling down on them from the clouds above. It really was a perfect image and she couldn't help but to wonder if it hadn't magically transformed into what lay before them, because she'd certainly never noticed its perfection before.

She looked up at him and smiled. “So, now you know the truth,” she stated.

“I've always known the truth,” he said, pulling her into his arms. “Sometimes I'm just too blind to see it.”

“Thank you,” they said together. They smiled against each other as they hugged.

After what felt like an eternity, Hermione pulled back to look up at him. “Can I try something?” she asked, her beautiful half-smile returning as she raised a single eyebrow questioningly at him.

“I don't know…” he said, smiling against her lips.

She kissed him soundly. “Well, when you do know, be sure to tell me,” she said, making a half-hearted attempt to pull away from him and turn back toward the picture. As she looked at Sirius she could swear she saw him wink at her and she smiled. She pointed toward the picture and looked at Harry. “Did you—” she was cut off by the feel of his lips on hers.

A moment later he pulled away from her. “I'm ready,” he murmured against her ear as he kissed her neck and then returned his lips to hers.

Hermione felt her body melt against him as she relinquished herself to his kiss. “Me too,” she breathed against him.

Neither of them noticed how the faces in the picture smiled wider and looked at each other, Harry and Hermione raising their eyes to the heavens and James and Sirius winking down at them while Lily whispered. “That's it, Harry. You have the power he knows not. I love you, son.”

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