Chapter Twenty-Six: Respice post te, mortalem te esse memento
The next few weeks passed in a daze for Hermione. It was the first time in forever that she could not remember having something to do for an extended period of time, and she had to admit that it felt rather wonderful.
Well, having to stay cooped up in Number Twelve was not particularly fascinating, especially as she and Harry had slowly realized that despite being uninjured, they were not precisely fine. To put it mildly, Harry, even more than she, was exhausted.
That first night, they had stood by the window for twenty or thirty minutes when she had realized that he was leaning more and more heavily on her, and she had finally pushed him back into the bed with instructions to go to sleep. He had complied, but not before a soft smile of his had compelled her to join him.
She knew, every night, that her being there kept away his nightmares, but it did nothing for her own, that replayed over and over, torturing her as she knew Harry's did, or, at least, had. The wanton, passionate moaning, the sweaty bodies and faces of the woman she had seen Harry sleep with. The images she had been forced to endure by that horrible voice.
Oh, she understood, intellectually, what had happened. She had even felt Harry's thoughts and feelings, the way each of those women had reminded him of her. Hermione knew he loved her, and that she loved him, despite what had happened. After all, that future would never happen now. That Harry had fought his entire life to undo what had happened, because of his love for her, and because of her love for him, it made it easy for her to forgive him.
Easier, any way.
Certainly far easier than understanding why Harry did not seem to want that same relationship with her. He had said himself that he had loved her for years, and he knew that she loved him. And since they had first woken up after the battle, there had not been a single incident of snogging in the bed.
There had been elsewhere… on the couch, the table, the kitchen counters, the stairs, up against the walls. Hell, even in the library while knocking books around. Hermione grinned at the idea of her, the bookworm, sending books flying while she and Harry had gotten hot and heavy on one of the tables.
Glancing over at Harry, sleeping soundly in the still small hours of the day, her smile faded to a frown. Despite all their snogging, on basically every surface in the house, the decided lack of the bed still bothered her.
With what she had seen, she knew the physical intimacy of the situation itself did not bother him, but every night, he merely gave her a soft kiss, cuddled her against him, and went to sleep.
What a jerk, she thought, glaring at Harry now. Those other women, he felt nothing for, he gave them everything, but he won't hardly touch me in the bedroom. And now that she was thinking about it, every time they had gotten really into it on the couch or some table or chair or wherever, it had always been Harry who pulled back.
Of course, for the last two weeks, she had been considering this, every night, every morning, when Harry was asleep and she was alone with her mind, as she had been for so long. It had taken her two days of serious consideration, but finally she had arrived at the inescapably conclusion that Harry thought she would be ugly naked, or unable to compare to those other women.
They had, after all, been, for the most part, extraordinarily beautiful. And she was not anything approaching that, she had known it for years. Maybe Harry had realized it too, and now did not want to go that final place with her.
She hated it. But Hermione, brightest witch of her age, was willing to consider alternatives. For example, maybe Harry thought she was not ready. That they had been through too much recently.
Which was silly. When she had been young, and even almost all the way through school, she would have said no the very idea of it. But the last six months of the war had convinced her otherwise. That life was too precious to wait for the good things. That life was too fragile to deny the good things. She, Hermione Jane Granger, knew that she wanted nothing more out of her life than to be with Harry Potter for the rest of his.
And damn it, sex was going to be a part of that relationship.
Which was why she had awoken particularly early that morning, Harry's birthday, to make sure he never forgot it. Hermione knew as long as she did not leave the bed for long, Harry's nightmares would not return, especially as she thought they were beginning to get better as time faded the pain.
So she slipped silently out of the bed and moved to the wardrobe Winky had moved her clothing into, next to Harry's, since they shared the same room now. Pulling out a box she had gotten the other day while shopping with Tonks, she reached inside and caressed the silky green material, which matched Harry's eyes exactly.
Holding her breath to be as quiet as possible, Hermione slipped her nightgown over her head, and then, after a moment of hesitation, shed her knickers as well, folding both items carefully and setting them on the back of a chair.
A shiver ran over her body, one that bespoke of nervous excitement as she realized she was completely naked for the first time in Harry's presence. They had somehow, despite sharing a room that they both changed in for over two weeks, managed to avoid being naked in each other's presence.
One thing Harry had done with her in the last few weeks, though, was teach her a few wandless, nonverbal spells, particularly, how to summon her wand to her, which she did now. A soft tap of the wand to the lower part of her abdomen and a quietly murmured phrase performed the spell she had taken five days to work up the courage to ask Tonks for, being unable to find it quickly enough to satisfy her in the enormous library of the House of Black.
She slid on the green babydoll, and shivered as the lightweight material touched her bare skin, letting out a soft, murmuring sigh as the exquisite touch of coolness caused a predictable reaction from her body. As she did so, a creak from the mattress caused her to whirl about, turning to look at Harry, who was still fast asleep, though he had rolled over now. The sheet had also slid down, between his movement now and her own, and the young witch felt a rush of heat pooling and counteracting the chill of the fabric at the sight of Harry's lean, toned chest, bare as the only thing he wore to bed were a pair of pajama bottoms now during the warmer summer days.
Quietly, using all the stealth she had learned during the war and at school, she moved back to the bed and carefully slid in next to Harry. She swallowed.
Hard. Then again.
Blowing out her breath slowly, she summoned up her courage and whispered to herself, "Come on now, Hermione Jane Granger. You made your plan, now stick to it. You have to know."
She slipped her hands onto Harry's chest and gently traced her fingers over the planes of his body, the muscles sculpted by long hours of Quidditch and training to fight. Lithe and toned, his body was that of a natural athlete, though not one for extremely physical sports. She pushed the bedcovers off of him.
Her breathing was speeding up, becoming heavier, she realized, which meant louder. Which could wake up Harry before it was time for him to wake, so she forced herself to slow her breathing, to calm herself.
This did nothing for the pounding of her heart, though. She pulled her wand to hand once more, and with another nonverbal spell, she removed Harry's sleeppants. She had been worried about the spell waking him, but trying to tug them down without waking him seemed more likely to fail.
Rolling the sleeping wizard onto his back, Hermione took a moment to admire her handiwork. And admire she did. The toning on his chest continued onto his legs, but that was a minor consideration beside her ultimate goal, which she now reached out and caressed with the tip of one finger.
To be rewarded with a very positive reaction. Again with her fingernail she did it, and then the third time with more than one along the steadily growing length, and even further down, to the softness below.
Her mouth felt so very dry at the moment, which was in such contrast to the way the rest of her felt like melted butter as she softly stroked Harry's length into rampant arousal. Hermione could not quite wrap her fingers around it, and she realized, as she moved her hand up and down on the length, that it would take her both hands to wrap around its length.
It was time to wake Harry.
Hermione carefully moved into a kneeling position, realizing as she did so that the babydoll, down to just barely her hips, was even shorter than she thought. Then she balanced with her hand and moved her left leg over Harry's body, straddling his hips, and lowered herself against him. She gasped as she felt the presence of his throbbing arousal against her most sensitive flesh, but the sound failed to wake Harry.
Which was good, for she wanted to wake him with a kiss. She wriggled her hips for a moment, feeling the iron hardness between her thighs and she grinned recklessly as she rubbed herself against him. Leaning forward, making sure to keep in contact at all times, Hermione pressed her breasts into Harry's chest, feeling her nipples dig into his skin, and then she kissed him.
Mouth to mouth, she managed to cut off Harry's air for a second by pressing her nose just right against his, and her tongue took advantage of his parting lips. The young witch felt his hands going around her body instinctively as he woke, skimming down her back and onto the bare flesh of her bottom that her position and short clothing left exposed.
At which point, Hermione found herself abruptly moving through the air and onto the other side of the bed. She had expected Harry's survival instincts to do that when she cut off his air, but happening this late in the action, they could only, ever, mean one thing.
Hermione began to cry.
It might be argued that bawl was a more appropriate word, or perhaps weep. Whichever it was, it came as Hermione Jane Granger felt Harry James Potter shatter her heart. If it had not hurt quite so much, she might have run, might have Disapparated, might have gotten away from him, but the pain overwhelmed her.
Harry, of course, didn't get it at all.
Admittedly, his brain was yet to enter fully awake mode, and though this Harry was not nearly as clueless about girls as the one Hermione had educated after his failed date with Cho, he might as well have fired in the opposite direction and come closer to the mark, did the first words out of his mouth miss so bad.
"Hermione, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to push you so hard, are you alright?" It came out kind of tangled up and fast as Harry simultaneously flicked his fingers and was reclothed. Harry reached for her tentatively, Hermione saw through her tears, but he pulled back when she slapped him.
Hard.
* * * * * *
Tonks and Lupin were lightly resting in their bedroom, with Tonks' head on Lupin's chest in the early morning twilight coming in through the window. His fingers were running through her hair as she breathed out softly. "Brilliant as always, Professor."
Lupin grinned and pulled her into a kiss and as they separated, the trained Auror and the werewolf both cocked their heads at an echoing sound that sounded suspiciously like a slap. This was confirmed a moment later by Hermione's voice echoing all through the house…
"DON'T YOU DARE TOUCH ME, YOU HEARTLESS BASTARD! DON'T YOU DARE!"
Lupin started to slide out of the bed but Tonks grabbed his arm. "Where do you think you're going?"
"To help Harry. Sounds like Hermione's going to kill him."
Tonks frowned. "You saw Harry at Durmstrang. Hermione, as good as she is, isn't going to touch him."
Lupin sat back on the bed with a slight frown. "You're right, lover. He can take care of himself. He's got to learn sometime." He grinned. "Now, where were we?"
* * * * * *
Harry recoiled from the pure fury in Hermione's voice, in fact managing to tumble off the bed onto the floor as his hand scrambled for his glasses as the witch he had been sharing a bed with continued to mumble "Don't you dare," under her breath between sobs of grief and fury.
Harry, intelligently, managed to say nothing, because he somehow knew that whatever he said at this point was going to be wrong. So he thought, hard, about what had just occurred. Being nominally intelligent, it was not at all difficult to figure out that she was upset over his rejection of her advances, the problem was he had not the slightest clue what to do about it.
Especially how to explain why.
He sat down on the edge of the bed and reached out his hand, but found himself staring down the length of Hermione's wand, and swallowed audibly. "I told you not to touch me, Harry James Potter, so if your hand gets any closer, most powerful wizard ever or not, I will be forced to blow you across the room."
He was reasonably confident she could not do that, but he sensed that if it came to that, he would never get through to her. Harry pulled his hand away and watched her in silence for another moment. "Hermione," he said softly.
"What?" came the snarled response.
"Hermione, please understand how much I love you…"
She violently interrupted him. "You love me so much, huh, Potter." She raised tear streaked eyes to meet his own. "So much that you'll sleep with all those other women because they remind you of me." Rage burned as ice in the brown eyes that met Harry's green ones. "But you won't even touch me in bed." The tears returned unbidden. "Am I so repulsive, so hideous that you can't bare the thought? Or maybe you don't really love me at all, you were just using me for some sick, twisted game."
"Hermione no, never that," he tried to say, but she cut him off again.
"Never that? I saw what you did to Ginny and Draco. I saw how you tortured the Death Eaters. I know what you became, who you are, Harry Potter. You are that sick, that vile, that twisted creature who defeated Voldemort by becoming worse than he was."
Harry was crushed. Devastated. And he just looked at Hermione in sorrow, unable to say anything, unable to think of anything to say. That was how she really felt about him. She had never understood, had never forgiven him. The mattress shifted as Hermione stood up, moving away from the bed and over to her wardrobe.
She was leaving. Leaving him. He was losing her…
Not. Again. Never again.
He would not lose Hermione again, not after he had given everything.
Harry stood as Hermione pulled on a robe and stamped towards the door, struggling with the belt in her fury, and he stepped between her and the door just as she reached out for it. "Get out of my way, Harry," she said warningly, raising up her wand again.
"Hermione, no, listen to me."
"Get. The. Fuck. Out. Of. My. Way," Hermione growled through clenched teeth, the tip of her wand shaking slightly.
Harry raised his hands slowly, showing her that he had nothing in them, though both of them knew that was not exactly the most important thing in his case. "Please, Hermione, let me explain. You're right, it is about those women. And, it's not that I think you're ugly or hideous or repulsive or anything like that, because I don't." He sighed. "You've been in my head, you know I think you're beautiful."
Hermione cocked her head to one side as if contemplating the spell most likely to blast Harry out of her way, the anger still blazing in her eyes. "And you shouldn't think that I don't want you, 'cause I do. I want you very much. You have no idea how hard it is to curl up with you each night and not do anything before we go sleep. I didn't think you were ready, that it was too soon, after all that had happened…"
A slight growl from Hermione caused him to break off and he met her eyes squarely. "Honestly, Harry, do you think really think I would have stripped you naked and nearly mounted you if I wasn't ready? What kind of lame excuse is that?" The fury in her eyes grew hotter. "If you're going to give me excuses, at least use ones that make sense!"
Harry swallowed heavily and blew out his breath. "Alright, fine." He looked down slightly. "The truth is… I'm not ready." He met her eyes again. "All those other women, they were mistakes. I knew it at the time, I knew it afterwards, I knew it before hand. But I didn't stop myself." A single tear ran down his cheek. "I was weak and gave in. It was a mistake just as big as the ones I made with the Death Eaters, the person I didn't want to be, the person who lost you, but I couldn't help it. I missed you and they were there and they cared and…" He could feel his own anger building. "I just did it. I made a mistake I didn't want to repeat."
The fire in Hermione's eyes suddenly went as cold as ice, fury masked behind contempt, fury no longer a strong enough word to explain just the level of anger she was feeling. "A mistake," she echoed back flatly.
Harry realized his new mistake just as the words left his mouth, and he snarled, more at himself than at her. "Damn it, why can't I just tell you? Why do the words not work for me?" He met Hermione's eyes and refused to let go. "No, you wouldn't be a mistake. But those times, those times it wasn't special, that I didn't wait for just the right time, that I didn't wait for forever, that was the mistake."
Hermione's eyes softened slightly, and Harry began to pick his words with care again. "I love you, Hermione. I want to be with you, I want to show you how much I love you, but I can't." He closed his eyes briefly, showing an inordinate amount of trust, considering her wand was still leveled at him. He opened them again and met hers, watching the slow dying of the angry fire. "It wasn't supposed to be like this, you know. I knew I was going to come back and save everyone, that I would be able to stop this before…" He broke off. "The pain, the loss… I've been back in this time almost two months now, Hermione, and I still cannot get used to the fact that you're alive." Tears slowly ran down his cheeks. "I still can't believe that you love me back, either." The grin which accompanied the tears was soft and rather sad. "I wanted to wait, Hermione. I wanted reality to set in, for the memories to go away." He sighed softly. "They're not going to, of course, now. Every memory I've relived, I'll continue to remember. For you and I, a future that will never happen is the past. Our past." Hermione's wand slowly lowered away from his face as he continued to speak. "The other women, they weren't right, they weren't perfect. You are right, you are perfect, and I wanted to wait until I was sure you were at least as real as them. You were dead for me for longer than you've been alive right now. I wanted life, to know it and feel it, to experience just being with you again before… I wanted the perfect moment, for both of us, when we could finally and completely move on to our life. Together."
There. He had said it. The whole truth, the out pouring of his heart. If that was not good enough for her, she was not the Hermione he thought she was. Or she really did think those things she had said. He waited.
Which was when he realized she was crying silently. "Hermione?" he questioned softly.
He did not have much more than a moment's warning as her wand clattered to the floor and she threw herself at him, her arms wrapping around him fiercely as she wept onto his shoulder. His tears joined hers as they held each other, keeping each other safe, and trusting one another completely.
Her lips were suddenly on his, and he responded instantly, tightening his arms around her, crushing his lips to hers, hungrily, needily kissing her. Desperate passion flared between them, her hands rubbing his bare chest, his slipping inside the front of her robe, caressing her…
Which was when he discovered just how well he had trained her as the door behind them creaked and they sprang apart, both of them dropping into a combat stance, Hermione's wand popping into her hand as the knock came. "Are you two almost ready? We've got to leave for the ceremony soon."
Tonks. "Lupin's having Dobby and Winky make breakfast for twenty minutes from now."
Hermione looked at Harry, who's sheepish expression matched hers as they both relaxed from their positions. "Alright, Tonks, we'll be ready," Harry called back after about twenty seconds of silence. He turned his gaze on Hermione as they heard Tonks walking away. "Go get your shower. I'll set out your robes."
Hermione nodded and took a step up to him, wrapping her arms around his neck again. "I'm so sorry, Harry. I was jealous of… of those women who might not even exist now. I was so busy thinking about me…"
Harry smiled and gently cut her off with a kiss. "I'm sorry as well, Hermione, I should have realized you would feel… put off by my distance. I should have told you sooner." He then grinned cheekily. "I really do like that nightie, though."
Hermione blushed and kissed him again. "Be a good boy and set out the grey robes for me, will you. We'll talk more about this after the ceremony." She sighed. "We have so many issues, they make take a lifetime to sort out."
Harry smiled again. "It took three lifetimes to create them. But we will sort out everything after the ceremony." He thought of the speech he was supposed to give, that Hermione had helped him with so much in the last few weeks. He forced a grin down at the part he had added after Hermione pronounced it perfect. "Go, shower. You take longer with your hair."
Nodding, she reluctantly disentangled herself from him and his embrace, and vanished into the shared bathroom, while Harry moved to the wardrobe and began pulling out clothes, blinking in surprise at the large selection of very feminine clothes Hermione had that she never, ever wore.
That was going to change for sure. He grinned again. Everything was going to be okay.
* * * * * *
As Harry stood on the stage before the assembled crowd, he swallowed slowly, moving to the podium. He was the last one to receive an award today. All the other Order members had already, including Hermione, but Harry definitely had the most metal hanging around his neck, including the British Order of Merlin, First Class, along with a slew of other awards from around the world. It hurt his neck and made a chinking noise when he moved.
He saw Hermione smile at him from the first row of seats, along with Dumbledore and Lupin and all his friends. Nearly three rows of seats sat empty behind them, each with a name carved in them. Those who fell in the final battle at the Ministry, the Aurors, the DA, the members of the Order of the Pheonix. All those who could not be present to see the awards lauded on them for their heroism.
He knew how this was supposed to go. He would give a speech, then field a few questions, then start the commemoration of the monument behind him, shrouded in a giant piece of fabric.
He stopped at the podium and looked over the assembled crowd of witches and wizards from around the world. "I stand before you, here, Harry Potter. You call me the Boy-Who-Lived, the Chosen One, the Man-Who-Triumphed. You call me a hero."
"I am none of these things. I am merely a person. A person who stood up for what he believed to be right. Evil triumphs because good people do nothing. You call me a hero because I did what had to be done. Voldemort… yes, I say his name. I am not afraid of him. And you should not be either. He is gone. Vanquished. Everyone here can see the empty seats in front of me. Seats that should be filled with people. People who died because the wizarding world cannot move on. It does not change."
"These people died because someone here believed that some people are born better than others. These people died because they stood up for the belief that people are who they become, the choices they make, not who they are born. Pure-bloods are no different from anyone else, except, in my experience, they are more prone to killing people for being different from them. Unthinking, unreasoning hatred." Harry reached his arms out and set them on the podium.
"Well, I have something to tell you. Voldemort, Tom Riddle, was a half blood. I am a half blood. The ancient lines… Black, Malfoy, Lestrange, Longbottom, Potter, Dolohov… this war destroyed them. The Weasleys were almost wiped out. The Pure-bloods are dying or marrying outside their lines. Soon they will be completely gone." He smiled. "This war was won by a Half-blood, a Muggle-born, and a Blood-traitor. This war was won because those three people trusted each other, loved each other, more than anything else in the world, and would do anything for each other."
"That's what love is. That's what beat hatred. Love. That and the courage to face the unbeatable. To refuse to give up, to go two extra miles when you only needed one to survive." A tear dripped down Harry's cheek. "This war was won because a group of people, ridiculed and nearly driven out, refused to let their world become one of hatred and evil. They did not give in without a fight. They went on and on and on and gave and gave and gave until it was over or they died in the process." Harry swallowed. "My best friend, Ron, did die. He died to give me the one shot, the single moment I needed to face Voldemort. He died so that each and everyone of us, Muggle-born, half-blood, and pure-blood, could live in a World Without Fear."
He had discussed the next part with Dumbledore and with Hermione, and no one else, and he broke the program the Ministry had so carefully arranged. He raised his hand, and a massive wind arose, whipping at the giant sheet covering the statue. After a moment, it tore free, revealing an artists rendering of Harry standing with his wand pointed at a cowering Voldemort. "This monument is a lie. Harry Potter did not defeat Voldemort." He waved his hand again and the statue crumbled into dust, only to reform as a giant obelisk, a spire of black stone rising above their heads. "Ronald Weasley defeated Voldemort. Arthur Weasley defeated Voldemort. Charlie Weasley defeated Voldemort. Alastor Moody defeated Voldemort. Severus Snape defeated Voldemort." As he listed off each name, fire burned on the surface of the pillar, engraving each name in a series of sparks. He continued reading the list until he reached the end, the names carved around all four sides of the stone. "Lily Evans Potter defeated Voldemort."
Harry smiled darkly. "You've given me almost enough awards for each of them to have one, as they should. It took faith and love and courage to defeat Voldemort, not a boy with a prophecy. I am no hero." He lifted his hand and pointed to the Cenotaph. "Those people are heroes. Honor them by remembering and living the world they fought and died for. Fight for that world with your last breath. Make that world for them. I know I will. And that is when Voldemort shall truly be defeated, gone."
Harry reached into his pocket and extracted a small velvet box and smiled at the crowd. "To begin that, I have a question to ask, in front of all of you." The world suddenly narrowed down to Hermione's slightly confused face. The speech was supposed to have ended on the line about Voldemort. "Hermione Jane Granger," he lifted up the box, flipping it open with a wandless, wordless command, "will you do me the honor of helping me every day remind this world what we fought for, what our friends died for, a world of love and peace, by consenting to be my wife?"
There was stunned silence, and Hermione looked like she might faint on the spot. Harry felt his smile start to slip as she rose to her feet in the front row, but it burst into a grin as she shouted up to him, "Yes, Harry James Potter, I will," and then she ran towards him up the stairs and wrapped him in that patented Hermione's Bone Crushing Hug. Except this one included a giant, deep, passionate kiss in front of everyone. Loud applause echoed everywhere.
As he slipped the ring on her finger, she whispered to him. "Don't you dare ever ambush me like that again, Harry." The attempt at anger was killed by the huge smile from ear to ear on her face, though, before she leaned into him and Harry looked back out at the crowd.
"Now, I have a party to get to," laughter at that, "but I'm willing to answer a few questions."
Hands shot up everywhere. Harry had no idea which ones were real reporters and which ones were people that just had questions, though he supposed it did not really matter. He pointed at one hand.
"Harry, what can you tell us about the rumors you are going to run for Minister of Magic?"
Harry chuckled. "Utter and complete hogwash. First, I'm too young, and second, I've already had the weight of the world on my shoulders once. It's heavy, and I'm tired." He nudged Hermione, who was still gazing at the gleaming multigemmed ring on her finger, and she looked up and pointed at another hand.
"Harry, if you're not going to run for Minister, what are you going to do?"
"Well," Harry began, "it would appear I'm going to get married." He grinned. "Other than that, I have been offered the position of Flight Instructor at Hogwarts by Headmaster Dumbledore and I'm going to take him up on that offer."
Silence fell across the crowd until he picked another hand.
"Can you tell us how you beat He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named?"
Harry bit his lip, and felt Hermione grab his arm to restrain him. "Firstly, the next person I hear call Tom Riddle that I will hex into next week. His name is Tom Riddle. He was just as human as you or me. Secondly, I've already answered your question in more than sufficient detail. I'm sure your Quick Quotes Quill wrote down every word I said in my speech. Next." He jabbed his hand out angrily to get the next question.
"It is being said that you're the most powerful wizard ever to be born, that you put even Merlin to shame. Care to comment on that?"
Harry felt Hermione stiffen in shock in the crook of his arm and felt matching shock roll through him. More powerful than Merlin? Damn. "Well, as I didn't have the honor of knowing the Wizard, and anyone who saw my mark on the History of Magic O.W.L. knows I didn't learn much there," more laughter, especially from the Hogwarts professors he could see, "so I can't say as I'm qualified to judge that. That's all."
Gripping Hermione's hand, he walked slowly down the stairs and sat next to her and Dumbledore, while the current Minister stood to close the ceremony, his face looking very confused, though not very angry, at how Harry had redone the poor man's carefully arranged occasion.
Hermione leaned across him to Dumbledore and whispered as the Minister spoke, "Headmaster, I'll accept your job offer as well."
Dumbledore nodded, turning his twinkling blue eyes to gaze on her. "I thought you might. The information you will both need will arrive by owl tomorrow in the post. Thank you both, for everything you have done." He smiled, and then turned back and began to clap as the Minister concluded his speech.
Harry and Hermione joined in.
* * * * * *
The very nearly naked Hermione lay on top of the very nearly naked Harry in the bed they shared that night, their lips slightly puffy from the kisses they had been exchanging, their breathing rather heavy from being put on hold during vigorous activity.
As Hermione's tongue worked on the sensitive spot below his jaw and his fingers idled on the bare skin of her hip under her nightgown, Harry heard her whisper softly to him, "Does tonight count as our perfect moment now, Harry?"
Harry grinned slightly and turned to her. "If you really want it to be, it can." He kissed her softly. "But I was thinking we would wait until we got married."
Hermione sniffled slightly at that. "Really, Harry? I…"
"Hermione, I'm not reject…" Her finger on his lips silenced him.
"Shhh, Harry. I understand." She smiled. "You really do know me well. I always thought, as I was growing up, that would be when, my wedding night."
Harry smiled. "Your childhood dream come true."
Hermione smiled back. "You are that dream, Harry." She kissed him softly. "I hope you weren't planning on waiting for long until the wedding or tonight's gonna be our perfect moment." She grinned.
"October 31st," he whispered softly.
"The night your parents… oh," Hermione responded softly, a tear forming in her eyes. "That really will be perfect, Harry." She kissed him again, a little harder and more passionately. "We really ought to go to sleep, or tonight's gonna be the perfect night. I love you so much, Harry James Potter."
"I love you too, Hermione Jane… Potter." The tear fell as she smiled and she nestled atop him, closing her eyes. Harry waved his hand and the lights died.
Silence reigned for a moment, longer and longer, their breathing growing steadier and steadier, until Harry was nearly asleep…
"Harry?"
"Yes, love?"
"These memories, of the future that won't happen. We have to live with them forever. That's the price the voice said you had to pay, isn't it?"
They had not discussed that before now, and Harry's hesitation, trained by years of prevaricating and lying in that same future in question, was unnoticeable, even to someone who knew him so well. "Yes, Hermione, that is the price the voice demanded."
"Oh. That's not so bad," she whispered.
"No, it isn't," Harry replied. "I can never forget what you mean to me that way, 'Mione, 'cause I'll know what it is like to be without you."
He felt her smile in the darkness, and returned her brief kiss when it came.
Author's Notes:
Respice post te, mortalem te esse momento. Look around you, remember that you are mortal.
Sorry about the long wait, all my readers. I hope this chapter made up for it. Only one more chapter to go before the Epilogue. It's looking like that may be my Christmas present to all you dear people.