A Restructured Life

JayR

Rating: PG13
Genres: Angst, Romance
Relationships: Harry & Hermione
Book: Harry & Hermione, Books 1 - 5
Published: 16/06/2005
Last Updated: 16/06/2005
Status: completed

One Shot-After tragedy devastates Harry Potter's well-planned future, Hermione is there to pick up the pieces.

Chapters

1. A Restructured Life

1. A Restructured Life

Disclaimer: The world of Harry Potter belongs to the brilliant JK Rowling

A Restructured Life

“Are you sure you want to do this, mate?”

Harry Potter smiled warmly at his best friend for the past twelve years. “There’s nothing I want more,” he answered. He peered out the huge window of the church and off into the distance, letting his imagination run wild. He was getting married in less than three hours. Sara had finally agreed to become his wife. This was the first day of the future he had dreamed of since he was a child. In approximately four more hours, he would have a family. Bea was going to be his step-daughter. Adoption proceedings were in progress to make her officially a Potter. He called her Bea-Bea, since Bea Potter sounded like an odd art form. Her mother, of course, called her Beatrice.

He had met Sara at a party given in his honor after he had defeated Voldemort. She was covering the story for Witch Weekly. He normally shunned the press, but there was something about her that enticed him. That had been three years ago, three glorious years leading up to today. She had turned down a date with him for nearly a year, but his persistence paid off. Harry smiled warmly at the memory of that fateful date.

“So, where does a famous hero-turned-Quidditch-Star, like yourself, take poor unsuspecting single mothers?” Sara asked as they strolled leisurely through Diagon Alley.

“Where ever they’d like to go…” he responded.

“And if I said I wanted to go to your place and ravish you?” she returned with a laugh.

“I’m sure that can be arranged,” he chuckled, “but after we eat, please. I am starved.”

After having dinner at the finest restaurant in Diagon Alley, they once again meandered, holding hands, along the sidewalk with no destination in mind.

“Fancy a muggle movie?” he asked. “There’s a cinema fairly nearby.”

“No, I don’t think so,” she responded. “Let’s just walk about.”

They found a muggle park and sat down to talk. After many stories of adventures, both his and hers, Sara said that she needed to get home.

“I’ll take you” he offered and they disapparated to her front door.

Sara leaned casually against the railing of the porch and looked at him. “You are nothing like I expected, Harry Potter.”

“Ah, so my act worked then,” he smiled. “Can we do this again?”

“That would be lovely. I’ll owl you” she answered, and then leaned toward him. He gently kissed her cheek and bade her goodnight.

“Harry?” Hermione asked as if she’d been trying to get his attention for several minutes. “I hate to interrupt your daydream time there, but you need to start getting dressed.”

“This is it,” Ron teased, “your last chance to bail out before domestic disaster strikes and you become another boring husband.”

“I look forward to becoming a boring husband, I’ll have you know,” he responded with a wide grin. “Where did we put…”

“Relax, Harry,” said Remus Lupin calmly, placing a hand on the nervous young man’s shoulder. “The rings are in Ron’s pocket; your robes are in the wardrobe. Everything is fine.”

Harry sighed in relief. He had a sense that something wasn’t quite right, but shrugged it off as nerves.

“Harry?” questioned a small voice from the doorway.

“Bea-Bea!” Harry grinned and scooped the little girl up into his arms and into a hug. “What are you doing here? Aren’t you supposed to be with Mrs. Weasley?”

“I wanted to see you. Are you really going to become my daddy today?” she asked hesitantly.

“Really and truly” he answered blowing against the girl’s neck, making her laugh.

Bea squirmed in his arms, giggled and asked, “…and you are coming to live with us?”

“If that’s alright with you…” he responded giving her his best puppy dog look.

“Are you going to sleep in my bed with me?” she asked innocently, which caused the other two men in the room to snicker.

“Well, your mummy’s bed is so much bigger than yours, so I think I might sleep there. But I’ll tuck you in and read you a story at night, if you want…” Harry offered.

“Bea? There you are, you little imp. I’ve been looking all over for you!” cried a harried Molly Weasley.

Harry handed the child over to Mrs. Weasley, who smiled at him lovingly. “You’d best get ready, Harry dear. Don’t want to keep your bride waiting…”

Harry laughed. “I’d never do that. She’d never let me hear the end of it.”

Finally the time had come. Harry stood twitching with anticipation by the dais with Ron and Remus by his side. He saw her coming up the flower lined aisle, carrying her daughter rather than a bouquet. He’d never seen a more beautiful sight. His stomach gave a familiar lurch as if he’d missed a stair. A tear of happiness rolled down his cheek as the pair drew closer to him.

Out of no where came the cry of “MORSMORDRE” followed by the sickly green Dark Mark which rose into the sky. More shouts of “Avada Kadavra” came so fast that no one had a chance to blink, much less react. This was immediately followed by the pops of apparition as Aurors flooded the area and quickly regained control of the chaos. In the confusion, no one noticed right away the groom kneeling by the lifeless bodies of his bride and new daughter.

Later that evening, the Burrow was filled to capacity, yet the near silence was deafening. No one knew what to say to the despondent man sitting staring into the fire. There wasn’t anything to say. His bride and child were counted among the seven people killed in a seemingly random Death Eater attack.

“He’s in shock” Mrs. Weasley stated evenly, shaking her head in sympathy. “Maybe a Dreamless Sleep potion…”

“That sounds good, Molly,” added Remus. “Let him get some sleep. He’ll have enough to be going on with in the morning.”

Harry refused the potion and the offer to lie down and continued staring into the fire.

“Harry? Please eat something,” pleaded Ginny. “You need your strength.”

“For what?” he asked confused.

“Harry, I need you to listen to me, please,” said Hermione gently. “I know you are hurting and don’t want to think, so just listen to my voice and follow my instructions, alright?”

Harry nodded. It was true. He didn’t want to think. It hurt to think. He’d rather just sit here and stare into the fire.

“Good” Hermione replied. “Here is a sandwich. It has ham, lettuce and tomatoes on. Take a bite. Go on. Eat the entire sandwich.” Harry ate the sandwich without tasting it.

“Good, now drink this.” He drank the potion as well and almost immediately felt his eyes drooping.

“You got him to take the potion? I’ve been trying all night and he’s refused,” stated Mrs. Weasley with admiration.

“He’s just having a bit of trouble thinking just now,” Hermione explained. “He’s finding it easier to say no than to think about what’s being asked of him. I just took the choice away from him and told him what to do.”

The next few days passed in a blur of funerals, meetings with barristers and goblins, and visitors. His things were all moved into Sara’s house, but he couldn’t go there. Not yet. Even though she’d left the house to him, he didn’t feel like he could just go there unannounced. He wasn’t even her widower. He felt stuck forever in the boyfriend category. He left the decision making up to Hermione. He trusted her to do what he wanted, if he’d cared to think about it. He didn’t. He knew he was relying on her too much but there was nothing to be done for it. He’d make it up to her when he felt better…if he ever felt better. He knew he’d have to leave the Burrow at some point. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley had told him he could stay as long as he wanted, but he didn’t want to impose. He wanted to go home, but he was unsure that was exactly? He’d given up his apartment when he moved his things to Sara’s house before the wedding. He and Remus had been left 12 Grimmauld Place. Remus lived there, so that wasn’t much better than the Burrow.

“I’ve done something without your approval. Don’t be angry with me, please. I gave up my apartment and moved my things to Sara’s house. I didn’t want you to be there all alone.” Hermione explained tentatively as if waiting for an explosion. “I’ll get another flat as soon as I know that you are okay.”

“And you are sure that day will come?” Harry asked despondently.

Hermione smiled at him. “I know it will. I know it doesn’t seem like it now, but it will get easier.”

“I hope so” he said glumly. “I lost my family. I lost my dream to those bastards. They just…they just… took them from me.” He wiped the tears from his eyes unwilling to let them fall. “Bea-Bea’s birthday is in three weeks. I suppose I should cancel the cake and gifts I ordered.”

“Let me do that for you, Harry,” Mrs. Weasley suggested patting his arm. He nodded his acquiescence. Harry trudged aimlessly into the den and sat by the fire again.

“What shall I do with the cake from the wedding?” Mrs. Weasley asked Hermione quietly. “I don’t want to trouble him…”

“Blow it up” said Harry evenly.

“Oh, Harry, you don’t mean that…”

“Believe me, I do,” he snarled, his fingers white against the mantle, his face twisted into almost an evil smirk. “As a matter of fact, I think I’d like to do it myself, watch the crumbs fly into the air, and fall to the ground helplessly… then watch the birds pick at the remains…”

Mrs. Weasley and Hermione shared a concerned look as Harry carried the massive cake outside.

“I mean it” he continued. “Who’s going to want to eat it anyway? We offered it after the funerals. No one wants to eat the wedding cake when the bride was….was…” He aimed his wand at the cake and shouted, “REDUCTO!” He watched the explosion and aftermath, heaved a heavy sigh, then turned from the mess he’d made.

Ron swooped down on his broom and stopped in front of his friend. “You okay, mate?”

Harry nodded and stared off to the orchard where they’d spent many fun times over the years. “I just need to get out of here.” he said before apparating away.

Several hours of frantic searching later, Ron stepped back into the Burrow. “I can’t find him,” he confessed. “I’ve looked everywhere I can think of, Sara’s house, his old flat, I even checked at Hogwarts and Hogsmeade. No one has seen him.”

Just then the fire roared to life, green flames shooting up the floo. “Is Ron here?” Tom, the bartender at the Leaky Cauldron, had his head in the fire.

“I’m here,” stated Ron knocking over chairs as he hurried over to the fireplace.

“He’s here. He got here about a half hour ago. He’s pissed and being followed by the press,” Tom stated. “I put him in a private parlor, but I think you should get here a quickly as you can. He’s…just get here.”

Ron needed no further encouragement and disapparated away.

“They are in there…” Tom said as he pointed a gnarled hand toward the private parlor.

Ron entered the parlor and took in his surroundings. By the looks of things, it had been quite a party. Several empty glasses were perfectly lined up on the table.

“I’ll make you feel all better…” assured a distinctly feminine voice in the corner.

“Promise?” Harry asked.

Ron tapped the unknown female none too lightly on the shoulder. She turned her head toward him in surprise. “Scarper!” he snarled at the woman.

“We’re just having some fun, weren’t we, Harry, honey?” she defended.

“Let him go and leave” Ron countered in a cold even voice. The woman huffed her displeasure and released Harry, who slid ungracefully to the floor. Ron kneeled beside him.

Harry’s robe was unfastened; his shirt unbuttoned and untucked. Several red marks showed against the white of his neck and chest.

“That wasn’t Sara,” Ron said softly.

“I know,” returned Harry. “I just wanted to feel something. I just feel dead inside…numb. What am I going to do without her, Ron? How can go on like they never existed?”

“Your memories will live on, mate. None of us who knew Sara or Bea will ever let them be forgotten. I just couldn’t let you do something that you’d hate yourself for in the morning. You’ve been drinking, that doesn’t make for smart decision making.”

“I could’ve pretended…I could’ve…” Harry whispered.

“That wouldn’t be any good, mate. You’d be able to tell. Her horrible nasal voice would have been a dead giveaway,” Ron grinned.

Harry snorted. “She didn’t smell right either,” he agreed, sniffing in annoyance. “And, please, don’t tell Hermione about this. I don’t need a lecture.”

“Your secret is safe with me. Let’s get you back to the Burrow. Mum and Hermione are going spare. Can you apparate or would floo be better?” Ron asked. “That’s all we need is for you to splinch yourself.”

“Floo’s fine,” Harry answered.

“Er, Harry…” Ron began as Harry stepped toward the fireplace. “What are you going to do about those?” He pointed to his neck. “Want me to put a glamour on them?”

“No, leave them…as a monument of my stupidity.” Harry sighed and righted his clothes. The two men stepped into the fireplace, one then the other, spoke their destination, and vanished.

The next morning, Harry awoke with a vicious hangover. He looked at himself in the mirror, ignoring the snide comments it made regarding his appearance. He viewed the red marks on his body with revulsion. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled to no one.

Later that morning, after Ron had slipped him a Pepper Up potion to relieve his hangover, Harry rejoined the Weasley family in the kitchen.

“Have a nice lie in, Harry dear?” Mrs. Weasley asked.

“Very nice. Thank you,” he responded. “I can’t thank you all enough for the help and support you’ve shown me.”

“No thanks are necessary, son,” stated Mr. Weasley. “That’s what families do-help each other in times of trouble…”

“Well, thank you anyway. I think I’m going to go back to Sssss…” He broke off unable to say her name. “…my house this afternoon. It’s time I get on with things and get used to living without her.”

“Oh, Harry dear!” Mrs. Weasley exclaimed. “It’s too soon for that. You are welcome to stay here as long as you’d like.”

“I know that, Mrs. Weasley. I appreciate it more than I can say, but I need to do this.”

“Will you be alright?” she asked.

Harry smiled sadly. “I’ll be fine. Besides, Hermione is moving into the guest room. I’m sure we’ll be fine.”

It was late afternoon when Harry arrived at the cottage. He stood immobile on the steps, unable to open the door and walk in. He stared at the door as the memories washed over him, his hands clenched at his sides. He pictured Bea-Bea’s toys all over the living room, Sara’s teacup by the couch…He turned from the door, unable to enter.

“Oh, Harry! You’re here! He’s here, Ron. Harry’s here!” She barreled through the opened door and threw her arms around him and whispered in his ear, “This is hard, I know, but you must do it sometime. Come on, then. I’ll go with you.”

It was easier with her holding onto him. When he was fully inside, she let him go and closed the door. “This is a really nice cottage, Harry,” she said. “I like the way you and she mixed your décor so that it isn’t too feminine or too masculine.”

Harry nodded, looking around as if he’d never seen the house before. He saw the toys stacked neatly in the corner and pictured Bea-Bea pouting as her mum made her tidy up. The memory of playing on the floor with her with those very toys hit him like a tidal wave. His knees went shaky; his hands trembled.

“Sit down before you fall down, mate,” Ron suggested. He put his beer on the tea table and went to his friend’s side to bolster him. He helped him off with his robes, led him to the couch and sat him down.

“Harry…” Hermione began. “What’s that on your neck?”

Ron and Harry shared a look of trepidation. Harry shrugged. “Ron rescued me from doing something stupid last night.”

Hermione looked to Ron, who shook his head as if to tell her that she was getting anything out of him.

Harry sighed. “I may as well tell you. I got a bit pissed last night and this woman came on to me, so….I-I-I…let her.”

“Oh, Harry! You didn’t!” Hermione cried, compassion heavy in her voice.

“No, I didn’t, but like I said Ron stopped everything and talked some sense into me.”

“You would’ve realized it soon enough, mate,” Ron consoled. “You said so yourself.”

“Maybe,” Harry said. “I don’t fancy finding out for sure, though.”

“Why did you allow it, if you don’t mind my asking?” Hermione probed.

“And us minding’s stopped you before?” Ron laughed. Hermione glared at him.

“I dunno, I hardly remember it,” Harry answered. “Did I say why, Ron?”

“You said that you wanted to feel something rather than being numb.” Ron explained.

“Yeah, I remember that part now. I wanted to pretend she was her and Ron and I discussed the ways I would know that she wasn’t.”

Hermione pulled Harry into a hug and cried on his shoulder. “I’m so sorry, Harry.” She mumbled.

“We’ll be fine, Hermione. As long as I don’t get too pissed, that is.”

“Harry, Coach wants to know if you are going to practice on Monday. He said to take all the time you need, but to let him know.”

“I can’t go back there yet, Ron. I don’t know if I even want to…”

“Don’t make any harsh decisions yet, Harry. You aren’t giving yourself enough time to heal.”

Late that night, Hermione heard sobbing coming from the master bedroom. She slipped on her dressing gown and walked down the hall. She had a short argument with herself before opening the door.

“I’m here, Harry,” she whispered softly. She wrapped her arms around him and rocked him in place, murmuring softly in his ear.

“It wasn’t supposed to be this way,” he sniffed. “Do you realize I’ve lost my entire family in one day twice now? That’s got to be some kind of record.” He laughed humorlessly.

“I know,” she said. “All of the terrible things that have happened to you. I wish I could make them all go away, but I can’t. All I can do is help you through it.”

“Yeah,” Harry sighed in the dark. “It’s almost as hard on you as it is on me.”

She smiled. “I wouldn’t go that far…” she chuckled at him.

“I would,” he said. “You’ve always been there and I’ve never properly thanked you.”

“Yes, you have,” she disagreed. “You’ve thanked me all along, just in actions, not words.”

He lay back on the bed pulling her with him. “You and Ron are the best friends anyone could have,” he murmured closing his eyes and drifting off to sleep.

She rose up slightly to go back to her own room and his arms tightened around her. She relaxed in his embrace and felt sleep overtake her as well.

Harry awoke alone, but before his grief could overwhelm him, Hermione breezed into the room carrying a tray of tea and toast. “Good morning, sleepyhead,” she sang. “I was beginning to think you were going to hole up in here all day.” He was pleasantly surprised that the awkwardness he’d expected between them wasn’t there.

After a few weeks had turned into months, a routine was established. Hermione would rise early and get ready for her job at the Ministry, while Harry made her breakfast. After she’d left for work, he puttered around the house in an effort to determine what possessions of Sara’s and Bea’s he needed to keep, what needed to be binned and what would be given to charity. He couldn’t part with anything yet, but he felt a sense of accomplishment at being able to sort things. He met with a grief support group once a week. After Harry had defeated Voldemort, Hermione as part of her work for the Ministry, set up support groups for those who’d lost love ones in the war. It took quite a bit, but she had finally convinced him to go. Now he was glad she did.

“Harry…” Ron called as he came in the front door.

“I’m in the attic,” Harry shouted back. He looked over the piles he’d made and squashed the urge to put everything back where he’d found it.

“What’s up?” asked Ron as he reached the top of the stairs.

“Just doing some sorting,” Harry replied. “I don’t know what half of this stuff is, much less what to do with it…” He held up a long lacy runner and examined it as if it held the secrets of the universe. “What the bloody hell is this?”

“That’s a table decoration, mate,” offered Ron. “Mum has a slew of them.”

“Why?” asked Harry in wonder.

“Well,” said Ron, “I figure, women aren’t satisfied unless they have about a dozen of the things, even if they don’t use them.”

“What do they do?” Harry questioned.

“From what I’ve seen, they lay on the table until the meal is ready, are removed to wait patiently before going back on the table.”

“Do you think Hermione has any?” asked Harry, shaking his head in uncertainty.

“She must,” answered Ron. “I think they make you keep them, like it’s a law or something.”

“Anyone home?” Hermione called as she apparated into the kitchen.

“We’re in the attic,” Ron called back.

Hermione came up the steep staircase and looked at what Harry had accomplished. “You’ve made good progress! You must have worked all day on this!” she praised.

“Yeah,” mumbled Harry. This stack is stuff that’s going into my bank vault. That pile is rubbish, I think. You can look through it to make sure. The pile in the corner goes to the orphanage, and this stuff I haven’t the foggiest what any of it is.”

Hermione laughed at his grimace. “Need help with that then?”

“Would you mind?” he asked. “Ron, you, too. Hermione can tell us what this stuff is and we can decide what to do with it.”

“Oh, no!” Ron argued. “I’ve got a date tonight. I’m not about to show up smelling all girly.”

Harry threw the table runner at him. “Off you go, then,” he teased. “Give Luna our love.”

Hermione giggled at Harry’s facial expressions as she explained the uses of muggle crock pots, paper dolls, curling irons, and shocking him to the core…breast pumps.

“Did you attend your meeting today?” she asked casually.

“Yeah, I did,” he answered.

“How was it?”

“Dreadful. All this talk about moving on and getting on with things gave me the shakes. What if I don’t want to learn to love again? What if I’m happy with the way things are?”

“Then use the information for future reference…” she suggested. “There’s no timetable to follow. The group is there to help people in all stages of grief.”

“Susan Bones-Goldstein is getting married again.” He paused deep in thought. “I can’t go. She asked me, but I just can’t.” Harry clenched his hands into tight fists. “I hate to let her down, though.”

“You aren’t letting her down, Harry. If anyone understands, it would be her. She lost Anthony shortly after they were married. Don’t force yourself. That would only make things worse on you.”

“Thanks, Hermione,” he said standing behind her and putting his arms around her waist.

“What for?” she asked.

“Telling me what I wanted to hear.” He answered and leaned down to kiss her cheek. At the same time, she was reaching to kiss his and their lips met. After several seconds, Harry leapt away as if she were on fire.

“Er….sorry,” he said. “I should go start dinner,” and he quickly left the attic taking two and three steps at a time.

Hermione sighed and continued her sorting.

Dinner was unusually quiet. Neither knew what to say, so the couple ate in silence.

“Want to talk about it?” she asked with trepidation. She tore apart her dinner bun and made a production out of buttering it.

“Not really,” replied Harry. “I mean it was an accident, right?”

“If that’s how you want to think of it, then certainly,” she answered.

“How else is there to look at it?” he asked.

“Well,” she began, “you reached to kiss me as I reached to kiss you, therefore we kissed.”

“You think I planned it, do you?” he said with a scowl, his temper rising.

“Oh, honestly, Harry, of course not!” she replied. She carefully considered her plate as she spoke. She knew if she met his eyes, she’d lose her nerve. “I know you aren’t ready and I know how much you loved Sara. But Harry, I’ve been in love with you since we were in school. I’m hoping that when you are ready, if you are interested, that is, that you would consider me.”

“What if I’m never ready?” he asked softly.

She raised her eyes to meet his. “I’ll take that chance. You have so much love to give, Harry. I can’t imagine that you’d want to spend your life alone.”

“Can I think about this?” he asked staring at her intently.

“Of course you can. Think it over, talk to people, talk about it at your group session, talk to Remus, talk to Ron, if you want. He’s known for ages anyway. But, do me a favor, if you decide that you aren’t interested, please tell me.”

Harry nodded his acceptance. He rose and got a beer out of the fridge and took it into the den. Hermione banished the dishes to the sink to wash themselves, then followed.

“Want to play a game? Watch a movie?” she asked.

“No, fancy a walk?” he returned.

She smiled. “Sure. Let me grab my cloak.”

They walked along the quiet street silently, each deep in their own thoughts. She was worried that he’d want her to leave; he was trying to find a way to tell her what he needed to without hurting her feelings.

“Hermione…” he began. “While I sort this all out in my head, I don’t want things to change between us. I like my new normal and I’m not ready to give that up. I’d like us to go as we have been. I don’t want you to act differently towards me or treat me any differently than you have in the past.”

“That’s what I want as well,” she answered relieved.

He smiled at her warmly. “But before that can happen, I just want to say, ‘Thank you for loving me.’”

“I don’t know any other way,” she responded with a smile of her own. “You can talk to me about her. Maybe that would help you cope with her absence…”

“I don’t know if I can,” he answered truthfully. “It’s…difficult…to even say her name.”

“Tell me about Bea then…” she offered taking his hand.

“Bea…” Harry said with a sigh. “I miss her so much. She is…er…was … the greatest kid. She had a smile that could light up a room…” Harry related his favorite stories of the young girl and found himself laughing along with Hermione at their various escapades. “Did you know the last thing she said to me? Right before the ceremony, she asked if I was planning to sleep in her bed?”

Hermione chuckled. “What did you say?” she asked him.

“I told her that since her Mummy’s bed was bigger, that I should probably sleep there,” he replied

“Good save, Quidditch-boy,” she teased. “Do you think you will play again, speaking of quidditch?”

“Nah. I don’t know why, but I just can’t, you know? It’s not because of…her,”

“Say her name, Harry.” Hermione coaxed gently.

“It’s not because of…S-S-Sara,” He grinned at his accomplishment. She smiled back at him. “I’d been planning on leaving anyway. S-S-Sara wanted to get pregnant right away and I didn’t want to be on the road. I don’t know. Maybe I’ve grown up or something, but it just isn’t right for me anymore.”

“What do you want to do?” she asked. Her eyes were glowing with delight that he was opening up to her and speaking so candidly.

“I don’t know. With all the inheritances I’ve received over the years, I really don’t have to do anything, I guess.”

“That would get boring” she replied.

“I was thinking of writing a book about her, not to be published or for anyone else to read, even. I just don’t want to forget her or Bea-Bea either.”

“That’s sounds like a brilliant idea.” Hermione commended him.

“I can’t take credit for it. There’s this wizard in my group that talked about it once. At the time it was too painful to contemplate, but I think I’m more or less ready to start. I don’t know why it is so important to me. It just is.”

“It’s important because it gives you closure. You have healed to a point where you are able to say goodbye to her.”

“I wish I didn’t have to, but if saying goodbye to Sara means I’m prepared to live, then I do have to, don’t I?

I am so proud of you, Harry. You have come so far in these past months. I’m not sure I could have dealt with things as well.”

Harry chuckled. “Don’t give me too much credit. I owe a great portion to you.”

Hermione blushed and pulled him into a hug. Harry kissed her gently before pulling away.

The couple returned to the cottage and readied for bed. “Did you want me to sleep in the guest room now?” Hermione asked.

“Why would I want that?” returned Harry.

“I don’t want things to be awkward for you since…well now that things are out in the open,” she explained.

“Don’t be stupid,” he said softly. “I’ve gotten used to sharing my bed with you. It’s been rather…nice…to know someone else is there. There’s no reason to change things.”

Hermione awoke in the early hours of the morning to note that some things had changed. She found herself entwined with him. His arms were around her, with her head lying on his shoulder. She tried to slip away unsuccessfully. His arms tightened around her on every attempt.

Harry arrived at his group meeting early, eager to talk to someone about the changes in his life. He found Susan Bones-Goldstein immediately.

“Can I talk to you for a minute, Susan?” he asked hesitantly.

“Hi, Harry. What’s up?” she smiled at him warmly.

“I just wanted to ask you. Er…well...I don’t mean to pry or anything, but…”

Susan laughed at his stammering. “Just say it,” she stated.

Harry took a deep breath. “How did you know you were ready to let go?”

Susan’s eyes lit up. “Are you trying to tell me that…”

Harry chuckled. “I don’t know what I’m trying to say, actually.”

“What’s going on?” she asked.

Harry related the story of what has happened with Hermione.

“Is a relationship with her something you want to explore?” Susan questioned.

“I wish I knew. I mean, it’s not a repulsive concept and I don’t feel like I’d be cheating on Sara…”

“You said her name.”

Harry grinned with pride in his accomplishment. “And I didn’t stumble this time!”

“I think you are making progress, Harry, that’s all. I think that’s wonderful. I’ve been worried about you.” She dropped her eyes to the floor, then back up at him. She laid a hand on his arm.

“Hermione asked me to tell her stories about her. I tried. I really did. I was able to tell her stories about Bea-Bea though. She didn’t push; she asked questions and just listened. It was…I don’t know…liberating? Is that the right word?”

More people entered the room. Susan and Harry moved off to the corner to resume talking. Susan continued, “I’m going to give you some advice. I’m not an expert by any means, but I can tell you what I went through, but that’s the thing. It’s different for everyone. Don’t set any schedules for yourself, like ‘It’s been three dates, I should have kissed her by now.’” Harry smiled as he remembered the accidental kiss. “Just let things happen as they will. Don’t put any pressure on yourself and don’t let anyone else put pressure on you either, not even her. If things are going too quickly for you, then say so. Be honest about what you are feeling.”

Harry frowned. “That sounds difficult for me,” he admitted.

Susan giggled. “Yes, I know. The Boy-who-lived hates to talk about his feelings. Imagine my shock when you joined the group!”

“I just needed to know I wasn’t alone. It’s helped so much to know that people have survived this. I probably wouldn’t have admitted it to anyone, but it gave me hope that I had a future. I mean, yes, I lost my parents, but I don’t remember them. Sara and Bea-Bea were there. Our future was planned out. Then they were just…gone.”

“It must be some comfort that she died when she was so very happy.”

“Yeah, but, it’s more than that. I felt like I had cheated her out of that happiness. I blew up the cake, did I tell you that? Beautiful cake versus Reducto curse. I wasn’t in a good place just then.” Harry smiled sheepishly at the memory.

“I trashed the house. It took me two whole days to ‘Reparo’ everything,” she confessed. “But the meeting’s already started, so we’d better get over there. Remember what I said, Harry, above all keep it comfortable.”

“I will, Susan, thanks.”

A few days later, Harry left a note for Hermione that he was meeting Ron for “Men’s Night Out” again. The event was something he’d given up after Sara was killed, but he now felt game for the male bonding ritual.

“You quit the team, did you? Are you mental?” Ron asked him.

“It was for the best, mate. I just didn’t have it anymore.” Harry said sadly.

“Have what? You were the best in the league! I can’t believe you threw it all away.” Ron’s ears were red with the overwhelming strain of what his friend was doing. “How am I going to replace you? Parker has nothing on you, mate, not even on your worst day.”

“It’s just something I have to do,” replied Harry. “Sara and I talked about it before the wedding and it felt right to continue with the decisions we made together. Please try to understand. I’m not the same person I was before she died. I still love quidditch; I just no longer love to play quidditch.”

“I still say you’re mental,” Ron grumbled.

Harry chuckled and signaled for another drink. “Speaking of mental, Hermione says you knew all along her feelings for me…”

Ron gaped at Harry. “She told you?!!?”

“Yeah, we were talking the other night and she mentioned it…”

“So…what do you think?”

“I don’t know what to think, really. I’m flattered beyond words, but I don’t want to rush into anything. That wouldn’t be fair to her. Beyond anything else that’s what I want, to be fair to her.”

“You hurt her and I’ll have to kick your arse. You know that, right?” said Ron.

“You and what army, mate?” Harry teased.

“Oooh, think you’re tough, Mr. I-got-an-O-in-Defense, do ya?”

“I’ll tell you like I told Malfoy…’I s’pose Lord Voldemort was just a warm-up act compared to you’…” he stated.

“You said that to Malfoy??” Ron chortled.

“Yeah, end of fifth year,” Harry replied.

“Where was I? I would’ve given anything to see that! Brilliant, simply brilliant.” Ron congratulated.

They talked, laughed and drank for several more hours before heading out. Harry stumbled twice before staggering to the floo, then fell out of the fireplace in his den. Hermione sat, legs curled under her, reading on the sofa.

“Hi, honey, I’m home!” Harry called out with laughter.

“You don’t have to shout. I’m sitting right here,” she scolded.

“I’ve always wanted to say that,” Harry sniggered drunkenly.

“You and Ron had a good time, yeah?” she observed.

“The best,” replied Harry. “But I think I drank too much.”

“Think so, do you?” she teased.

“Maybe just a bit,” replied Harry, swaying in place.

“How much is too much? Are you going to be sick?” she asked.

Harry shook his head violently, then swayed and tried to regain focus. “I feel brilliant...content. I haven’t felt that in awhile. Maybe I should get pissed more often…No-o-o-o-o, I remember what happened last time, snogging some stinky witch at the Leaky Cauldron” He made the face of a child taking horrible medicine.

“She was stinky, was she?” Hermione asked intrigued.

“Yeah, she smelled like the cross between Trelawny’s classroom and a brewery.” Harry wrinkled his nose and flopped down on the couch, his eyes closed and glasses askew. He didn’t bother to right them.

“I’m going to bed. Are you coming?” she asked.

“Yeah, I’ll be right there,” he replied, not moving.

“Need help?”

“Nah, I’ll just close my eyes for a minute, then I’ll come up,” he whispered.

“Come on, sleepyhead. You’ll get a sore neck sleeping on the couch.” She reached over and pulled him to his feet.

“You aren’t stinky,” he observed as he pulled her to him.

“And you aren’t thinking clearly. Let’s go,” she told him.

After getting into bed, Harry pulled her to him again. She snuggled up to him. He laid a hand under her chin; looked into her eyes and kissed her, his tongue ran along her bottom lip begging for entrance. His hands rubbed her back in ever growing circles.

Hermione waged a war in her mind about his actions. She wondered if the alcohol he’d consumed was allowing him to do things he wasn’t ready for or was that just a crutch. As she felt his fingers grasp her bottom, she pulled away from him.

“Whassa matter?” he asked.

“I don’t want to do anything you aren’t ready for,” she explained.

“Give me a couple more kisses like that and I’ll be ready,” he laughed.

Hermione slapped at him. “Don’t be ridiculous. You know what I mean.”

“Yeah, unfortunately, I do,” he sighed feeling instantly sober. “I want you, Hermione. Can’t that be enough for now?”

“No, Harry, I’m really sorry, but I won’t let myself get into a situation where you can use me. I know you. I know that if we continue this, you’ll regret it tomorrow, maybe I will, too. I won’t do that to you or to me. Let’s just go to sleep and talk about this when there are no outside influences.”

“Maybe you’re right. We can talk more later,” he agreed. “Can I still hold you?”

“Of course you can, but watch the hands…” she warned with a tiny laugh.

A few weeks passed in which Harry worked feverishly on his journal of memories. Late one night, he was writing away in his study. Hermione peeked her head around the open door.

“Are you going to eat?” she asked. “Or should I just bring you a plate? I made stir-fry.”

“I’ll be there in just a minute. Let me just…finish…this…thought…There, all done.”

“Want to tell me about it?” she asked.

“Sure,” he grinned, “over supper, though. I’m ravenous.”

He sat down at the table and served his plate after noticing she’d already eaten.

“You don’t have to tell me...” she said tentatively, worried that she would make him uncomfortable.

“That’s alright,” he answered. “Writing about her is really helping. I think I can talk about her without…I don’t know. I was writing about the time we took Bea-Bea to Diagon Alley to buy her a toy broom. Sara was in a snit over something I’d done that was stupid and Bea-Bea was getting into trouble over the smallest infractions. I told her to take it out on me, instead, so she punched me!”

“She punched you?” Hermione cried horror-struck.

“Yeah, she felt horrible about it immediately and it didn’t really hurt, but it was really funny later. Remember the black eye I said I’d gotten in practice?”

“Yes, that was from her? That’s terrible, Harry!”

“No, it’s not really. It was hilarious…after the fact, of course, but she was so…dainty, but she gave The-boy-who-lived a black eye!” Harry chuckled at the memory.

“You are writing about those types of things?” she asked.

“Yeah, I’m writing about both the good times and bad times we went through. I don’t want put her on a pedestal like she was some sort of goddess. She had faults just like anyone else. I want to remember these things…good and not so good.”

“I think that’s a very…healthy attitude. I’m impressed,” she told him. Harry smiled his thanks, unable to respond due to his full mouth.

“Want to take a walk after supper or did you fancy writing a bit more?” she asked.

“A walk sounds good or maybe Florean Fortescue’s for ice cream?” he suggested.

“Oh, that sounds heavenly. We can combine the two, get ice cream and walk about Diagon Alley!” she beamed.

After sharing an extra large sundae, they walked hand in hand, talking and window shopping.

“This feels like our first date,” Harry stated casually.

“Ours, me and you, or yours, you and Sara?” she inquired hoping not to ruin it by upsetting him.

“I dunno. Both, actually,” he responded.

“Did you want this to be a date?” she asked.

He grinned evilly at her. “I don’t hate it…” and he took off at a run, daring her to chase him. When he’d gotten a good enough lead, he ducked around a corner and waited for her to catch up. When she got closer to him, he grabbed her and pulled her into the alley where he was hiding and kissed her until she couldn’t think straight.

She pulled away and looked up at him, smiling gently. “What was that about?”

“I didn’t want you to have any doubts about my intentions tonight. I’m enjoying time with you, not reliving an old memory,” he said plainly.

“I see,” she responded coyly. “Just don’t get the idea that one date gets me to invite you into my house…”

“If I recall, it’s my house…”

“Well, then don’t think I’ll invite you into my bed…”

“Try again. It’s my bed.”

She thought hard. “Well, then don’t think I’ll invite you into my heart.”

Harry laughed and made a sound like a game show buzzer. “Nope, I’m already there.”

She gave him a brazen grin. “Don’t think I’ll invite you into my body.”

Harry gave her a shocked look, and then smiled. “We’ll have to see about that won’t we?”

“Feeling confidant?” she goaded.

“Maybe…” he replied. “Let’s just say I’m feeling lucky.”

She looked in his eyes with amusement. “Feel like getting lucky is more like it,” she said as she tore off away from him up the street they had just run down.

Harry was stunned, then muttered, “Witch!” and gave chase.

The banter continued long after they arrived home. The house was alive with laughter. The couple took turns running or hiding. When the one hiding was caught, the seeker tickled the other mercilessly, a quick snack sunk to the level of a food fight and the chore of going through the post turned into a tug-of-war, which required repair charms on several messages.

“I had fun tonight,” he stated as they headed up for bed. “Thank you.”

“I should be thanking you. You bought the ice cream,” she returned.

“Okay, we are both wonderful, lovely people and we are each blessed to be in the other’s company.”

Hermione laughing went into the guest room to dress for bed. Harry was staring out the window when she returned. She came up behind him, slipped her arms around his waist and laid her head against his back.

“So you are going to give ‘us’ a chance?”

“I thought I might…yeah,” he answered.

“Turn around and look at me…” she uttered breathily. He spun in her arms, looking into her eyes.

She lowered the straps of her nightgown and let it fall to the floor. “Still feeling lucky?” she asked before pulling him into a fiery kiss.

Hermione didn’t have to work the next morning, so after Harry had brought her toast in bed, they whiled away the morning talking. Once again the expected discomfort never happened, they talked as if it was normal for them to awaken naked in each other’s arms.

“Do you ever think you’ll get married again?” she asked.

“Technically, I’ve never been married,” he answered.

“You know what I mean,” she scolded. “You are trying to avoid the question.”

“Guilty,” he admitted. “This seems like the sort of question men shouldn’t answer.”

“Why ever not?” she asked.

“Well, you never know what the right answer should be. If I answer one way, you could think I’m using you and if I answer another, you could think I’m pressuring you. I think I’d just like to avoid both scenarios and not answer.”

“I’m not trying to corner you, Harry,” she stated evenly. “I’m just trying to get a feel for where this is going. If you don’t think you’ll ever want that, that’s fine. I’ll go in with my eyes open. If you don’t know yet yourself then I can help you, if you want. Then again, if you think it is a possibility in the future, I can let my daydreams run wild.”

Harry rose and walked toward the window. “Let me see if I can answer appropriately,” he said. “Do I want to get married again, no…; Do I want to be married at some point, yes…; Can I see myself married to you…, possibly…; Can I see myself spending the rest of my life with you, growing old with you, having a family with you…, most definitely.”

She smiled at him timidly. “You mean it?”

“I wouldn’t have said it if I didn’t. You mean so much to me, Hermione. I’ve loved you since school…in a friendly way, of course. I am fairly certain that I’m falling in love with you. I’m not there yet because of these issues I’m working on, but I will get there, I promise you that.”

Hermione came toward him, her eyes shining. “What about a family? Can you see yourself having children with me?”

“I would love to have a child, Hermione. You know that. I can freely admit that Bea-Bea was part of the reason I fell for Sara. I loved her, there’s no doubt about that, I just…Bea-Bea made everything so perfect…”

Almost two years had passed since Sara’s murder. Harry and Hermione had enjoyed a close relationship. They had discussed marriage and spending their futures together many times, but Harry always balked against the idea of a ceremony. He had gotten better at talking about Sara; he’d even allowed Hermione to read the book he’d written about her. Harry had taken a job at, and then soon purchased, Quality Quidditch Supplies when his former boss wanted to retire. He’d paid more than the shop was worth, but he enjoyed his work and the shop flourished under his management.

“Harry?” Hermione called as she entered the shop after work. “Are you still here?”

“I’m in the back, love” he shouted back.

She stepped into the back room where Harry kept overstock as well as developed prototypes for quidditch and broom accessories. He sent the models to the Firebolt Company, who paid him handsomely for the rights, even if they declined to market the idea. In exchange, they held the right to use Harry’s name, nicknames, and likeness in their advertising.

“What ingenious product is going to turn the quidditch world on its ear today?” she asked, pride evident in her voice.

“Oh, not much, just an improvement on the wrist guards,” he answered, his eyes not moving from the object he was manipulating. “I always hated the way they slipped around when you are reaching for the snitch.”

“Can you leave Hannah in charge for a week? Ron and I are taking you and Luna on a beach holiday.”

“Is that the big secret, then?” he asked raising his head to look at her.

“How did you know?” she cried in astonishment.

“I didn’t. I mean I know you were plotting something. I didn’t know what it was. Put the dates on my calendar and I’ll work something out.”

“Well, act quickly. We are leaving in two weeks,” she said before kissing him on the cheek. “Will you be home soon?”

“Yeah, I’m just about to…ARGH!” He threw the wrist pad across the room, turned to Hermione, smiled and said very sweetly, “Shall we have a bite before we go home, love?”

“That sounds excellent,” she answered, ignoring the tantrum, as he did.

On the evening of the third day at the Australian wizard resort in Noosa, Harry returned to his suite after accompanying Ron on an afternoon of pub hopping, while the girls went shopping. He didn’t feel drunk exactly, just pleasantly relaxed. He found new dress robes laid out for him with a note to meet them on the beach. He dressed quickly and went down.

He walked out onto the sand, frowning as the grit entered his shoes. He didn’t see Ron, Luna or Hermione; however he noticed a canopy that hadn’t been there earlier. His hands clenched in dread of what could possibly lie ahead.

“Over here, mate!” Ron called as he poked his head out of the tent. Harry noticed that Ron was also wearing dress robes very similar to his. He moved toward the front of the gazebo and saw Mr. and Mrs. Granger, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, Remus Lupin, Ron, Luna, Hermione and someone he didn’t recognize standing around a podium. Hermione was wearing a creamy satiny robe and carrying flowers. She smiled demurely at him as she approached.

“What have you done?” he asked with a nervous smile.

She spoke very quickly. “Ron and I have been planning this for ages. I knew you’d be all shaken at the thought of a wedding ceremony, so we’ve made this very simple. Just hold my hand for ten minutes and say the required words; you’ll have your wish. You’ll be my husband. I’ll be your family. I don’t mean to spring this on you…well, yes I did, but…anyway, if you don’t want this, I won’t be hurt. Just say the word and we’ll all have a nice vacation. But if you truly want to be married, all I ask is ten minutes. What do you think?”

Harry stared at her intently…silently. She fidgeted nervously wondering if she’d made a mistake. Finally he spoke, “Ten minutes you say?”

She beamed at him, eyes shining. “Ten minutes, plus a few signatures. I promise, then it will all be over. You’ll be my husband. I’ll be your wife and our friends will join us for a celebration.”

True to her word, ten minutes later Harry was kissing his bride. The group cheered and gathered around to offer congratulations. Soon house elves, paid of course, were setting up tables of food, chairs and passing around glasses of champagne.

Ron made the first toast. “I want to wish great happiness to the best friends a bloke could have. Even though you’ve dragged me through numerous adventures, pubs, and quidditch games, you’ve made my life complete.”

“Harry, mate, I can’t believe you went through with this. After all you’ve been through, you did it, mate! I just hope you get the Granger-Potter/Potter-Granger argument worked out before you start your family.”

Hermione, I can’t believe you pulled this off. When you told me he wanted to be married without a ceremony, I didn’t think it would work. I bow to your superior intelligence, without which Harry and I would still be struggling to stay awake through Binn’s class. Thank you for everything over the years and I hope all of your wishes come true.”

“They already have…” she said proudly.

More toasts followed. Finally, the group meandered toward the buffet with Ron leading the way. Harry filled his plate with finger sandwiches, fruit and salads.

“Keep Harry away from the cake until it’s time.” Ron called laughing.

“Why?” asked Luna looking toward Harry.

“I sort of demolished the last one.” Harry admitted embarrassed.

“Just think, that beautiful cake blown to bits. I bet it would have been mouth-wateringly good. Pity, that.”

“If Harry wants to blow up this cake, as well, he can.” Hermione stated. “As long as he doesn’t smear it all over my face.”

“But just think of the fun I could have cleaning you up!” Harry teased. Hermione kissed him deeply in response as their friends cheered.

“By the way, Hermione…” Harry said. Who paid for all this? Never mind I don’t want to know.”

“Good!” she responded. “Then I don’t have to tell you that you paid for it. I used the money in your vault from your profits of WWW. I talked Fred and George into helping me on this.” She lowered her head in mock embarrassment.

“Excellent choice,” he said with a grin. “Our closest friends get a vacation, while we get a honeymoon. I like that.”

“I’ve also got you a gift,” she added.

“I wished you didn’t. I would’ve gotten you something, if I had known…” he frowned slightly.

“This gift is for me, too. I stopped using the birth control potion a couple of months ago…Harry, in about seven and a half months; you are going to be a father.”

Harry’s mouth dropped open, his eyes bright and huge as he looked at her. As soon as her words sunk in, he lifted her from her chair and twirled her around and around grinning wildly. He set her down gently and pressed his lips to hers.

“I’d like to make a toast, if I could. I don’t care if it isn’t proper. To my wife, I really like the sound of that, by the way…anyway, for making me the happiest I’ve ever been, thank you. For knowing me better than anyone, thank you. For making all of my dreams come true, from the bottom of my heart, thank you...”

As Harry was speaking, Luna leaned over to Ron. “Think she told him about the baby?” she whispered.

Ron beamed back at her. “She told him.” Ron wrapped his arm around his girlfriend and shouted his approval at the kissing couple, his best friends.