Three Days

“Wake up, what you been dreaming about

I ain't got a lot to say, but I could talk to you for hours

The way you talk, the way that you breathe

The way that your spirit moves into me

Wake up, wake up, wake up, wake up

I got three days to wash the road out of my soul

I got three days to love you out of control.”

“Three Days” by Pat Green

A/N: I just wanted to take a moment to thank my friend Ramychan! This ficlet is for you!

Three Days

“Hermione,” Harry whispered, “wake up.”

No response.

“Wake up,” he repeated as he knelt down beside her bed, prodding her shoulder gently.

Hermione moaned softly as she stirred and her eyes opened to see Harry's dark green eyes staring back at her. Realizing that it was still dark outside the window of their cottage, she awakened instantly. “Harry, what's wrong? What time is it?”

Harry moved up and sat himself on the bed next to Hermione, his legs dangling over the side of the bed. Facing her, he said, “It's just after four.”

“Are you okay?” Hermione asked, pushing herself up on her elbows. “What happened?”

Harry shrugged. “I had another dream.”

“About your parents?”

“No,” Harry replied, “this one was different.”

Hermione somehow managed to restrain the many questions bursting to find release through the tip of her tongue. It was a fierce battle - and one she very nearly lost - but she remained silent and waited for Harry to continue.

“I was fighting him, Hermione. It didn't feel fake or like it was something that had already happened.” His voice lowered to the point of being barely audible. “It felt like it was something that was going to happen.”

At this point, Hermione was sitting up against the headboard, staring at Harry with wide eyes and biting her lower lip like she always did when she was worried or nervous.

“I think I'm supposed to go and fight him.”

“When?”

Harry moved his mouth, unsure about whether or not he should tell her…but he did. “Three days.”

“How do you know for sure, Harry? I mean, we should probably go to the library and do some research on premonitions and their accur-”

“Hermione,” Harry interrupted gently, “I just know.”

“I just don't want what happened in fifth year-”

“To happen again,” Harry said, completing her thought. “I know. I don't either, but this isn't like that. This feels like more than pure instinct. It's hard to explain…” Harry paused, searching for a way to describe the feeling. “It just is.”

Hesitantly, Hermione nodded, accepting what Harry was telling her. “So…three days.”

“Yeah,” Harry said, as he moved to curl up beside Hermione while resting his head in her lap.

Hermione absently began running her fingers through Harry's thick, dark hair, trying to comfort him.

After several moments of silence, Harry said softly, “I miss him, Hermione.”

“I know, Harry,” she responded. “I miss him, too.”

“It's not fair. I should've been able to protect him,” Harry said, raising his eyes to look at her.

She looked down at him and said sadly, “You can't save everyone, Harry.”

“But-”

“No…it was Ron's decision to die for you. That's how much he loved you. He refused to tell Voldemort where we were and got killed because of his love and loyalty to both of us. If you're guilty…then so am I.”

Harry shifted, now laying on his back and gazing up at Hermione.

“We're 24 now, Harry. It was three years ago. By this point, I imagine that wherever Ron is, he's screaming at us to quit grieving and bloody get over it.”

A half-smile appeared on Harry's face. “Yeah, you're probably right. Maybe I'll be able to accept it after…” his voice trailed off.

Hermione was still running her fingers through his hair, but she moved her idle hand and began to lightly trace Harry's scar. It was so much more than a scar because of what it represented. It marked his ruined childhood…his pain…his burden…his curse.

“I'm scared, Hermione. What if I can't beat him? What if I fail and all of this was the beginning of our Dark Age…not the end? What if this isn't our last fight? How many more of my friends will he kill to try and get to me?” Harry's eyes clouded over. “What if he gets to you? Hermione, if I lost you….that's the one thing I wouldn't be able to handle.”

Hermione motioned for Harry to get up and then scooted over to allow him room to lie next to her. Harry lay on his back, his arm over Hermione's shoulders. She rested her head in the niche formed by Harry's chest and shoulder.

“I want it to end, Hermione. I'm tired of living like this.”

They both lay in silence, not moving, until eventually sleep overcame them both.

* * *

Hermione awoke the next morning to discover Harry was no longer in bed. Beginning to worry, she was relieved to hear the faint clatter of pots and pans in the kitchen. Satisfied with the knowledge that he was still there, Hermione decided to remain in bed a while longer.

Thoughts of earlier that morning crowded her mind. It wasn't uncommon for Harry to sleep in her bed with her, but it had been happening more often lately. Every night they went to their separate rooms, but occasionally in the middle of the night, Harry would come in and crawl into her bed. When he did, he was almost always shivering. She didn't have to ask why…she already knew.

It started not long after Ron died. For a long time, Harry had managed to escape his nightmares by finally mastering occlumency. But these…he couldn't shake these. They were rooted too deeply in his heart, revealing his darkest fears. Most of the time, he dreamed about his parents, but every so often the dreams would include the people in his life now. He never mentioned whether or not she was in them…and she never asked; some things never have to be said.

Harry's voice gently stirred Hermione from her thoughts. “Good morning, sunshine.”

She smiled softly. “What time is it?” she asked, stretching out her arms above her head.

“About seven,” he replied, with an amused grin.

Hermione groaned. “Good would be after 10. Why are you up so early?”

Harry looked at her quietly for a beat before answering, “Just don't want to waste time sleeping. There are better things to do.”

Hermione didn't answer; she just pushed herself up and leaned against the headboard, looking at him.

Harry moved towards the bed and threw himself on it. Grinning up at Hermione, he said, “Let's have fun today.”

“And what do you propose we do, Mr. Potter?”

“Well, first…we shall eat breakfast, milady.”

“You're not going to bring it to me in bed?”

“Nope,” Harry said, shaking his head, “you have to get your butt out of bed before you can eat.”

“Twerp,” Hermione shot back as she maneuvered herself out of bed. “Breakfast better be good.”

“For you, milady,” Harry replied as he got up and grinned, “only the best.”

Hermione smiled back. “I like that grin of yours. It suits you.”

Harry stepped closer to her and grinned again. “What, this one?”

“Yes,” she replied, gently pushing him back as she moved past him, “that one.”

Harry laughed and followed her into the kitchen.

Hermione looked over her shoulder and asked, “What are we going to do after breakfast?”

“Let's go to the creek.”

* * *

Hermione squealed with delight as she released the rope and plunged into the cool water below her.

Harry laughed, shielding himself from the resulting onset of water.

Hermione poked her head up above the water, her hair now wet. Rubbing the wetness from her face, she asked Harry, “Why are you laughing?”

“Because you squealed,” he answered. “You never squeal.”

“Yeah, well, I'm not usually flying through the air and into water, now am I?”

“A valid point…but still, you squealed.”

Hermione didn't answer him this time…not verbally, anyway. She came back by splashing him with water.

Laughing, Harry had no qualms about splashing her right back.

Their ensuing water fight lasted for quite a few moments before Harry finally conceded defeat. Hermione raised her arms in victory and Harry, seeing that she was effectively distracted, dunked her.

As Harry shouted triumphantly, he felt a few drops land on his forehead. At first, he thought it was Hermione; he turned to look at her and saw that she was just wiping the water off her face. Glancing up to the sky, he noticed a few gray clouds making their way in their general direction.

Pointing it out to Hermione, he suggested that it would probably be best to start heading back. After one look at the moving cloud patterns, she agreed.

Gathering their stuff on the banks, they set out back to the cottage. At first, there was a drop here and a drop there. Gradually, the drops got bigger and bigger and fell faster and faster until, finally, the rain became torrential, hammering down upon the ground; it was the kind of rain that soaks, that plasters your hair against your head and drenches your clothing.

Harry instinctively moved over to Hermione. He took his towel and wrapped it around her shoulders. Hermione clutched the edges of the towel together to keep it enveloped around her; Harry grabbed her remaining hand and they began running towards the cabin.

Finally, they reached the front porch of the cabin and took the opportunity to catch their breath. After a moment, they looked at each other and just started laughing at the turn of events. Ten minutes ago, it was bright and sunny without a cloud in the sky. Now, the sky had darkened to an angry, gray color punctuated with brief flashes of light.

Grinning, Harry said, “Well, that was unexpected.”

Hermione only smiled back at him as she wringed the water out of her hair.

“Come on,” Harry said, opening the door, “I'll let you shower first.”

* * *

Harry opted not to shower, choosing instead to just change and towel dry his hair; after all, it's not like it could get any messier. He started a fire in the living room's fireplace, seeing as the power had gone out a few moments ago, before leaning back onto their couch. Fortunately, Hermione had gotten out of the shower in time. She was in her room changing.

They never used magic when they were out here, preferring to do things the Muggle way. There was a sort of calmness in performing Muggle duties; it gave the both of them a sense of reassurance, allowing them not to think about the complexities of magical living.

As Harry looked at the fire, he was reminded of his first year when he, Hermione, and Ron were trying to get the Sorcerer's Stone. More specifically, he thought about the sixth obstacle; the potions challenge. Hermione's cleverness allowed both of them to get past the fire. She understood when he needed her with him, but she also knew when he had to go on alone. He really didn't know what he'd do if he lost Hermione and he didn't want to think about it.

“Hey, stranger,” Hermione said softly as she ambled into the room and sat down next to him on the floor, resting her head against the couch. “What are you thinking about?”

Looking at her, he replied, “I was thinking about first year. When you saved my arse during that Potions challenge.”

“Well, you know…I didn't just do it for you,” Hermione teased. “I had to get out of there too.”

Harry raised an eyebrow. “That being why you suddenly hugged me?”

Hermione bit her lip as she grinned. He had her there.

“That was my first hug, you know.”

Hermione smiled and replied softly, “I know.”

“Hermione…have I ever said thank you? Have I ever told you how much you mean to me?”

“No,” Hermione answered, “but you never had to. I already knew.”

“Still,” Harry said, “I should've told you…I should've told you every day.”

“Harry, quite frankly, if you did that,” Hermione replied in a gentle voice, “I'd tell you to shut up and focus on more important things.”

Harry chuckled at that.

“I'm your best friend,” she continued. “I don't need you to tell me thanks. Of course, I'm going to be there for you…and you've been there for me. Do you hear me telling you thanks every day?”

Harry shook his head.

“No, because you already know that I'm grateful for you. Some things just don't have to be said.”

“Well,” Harry said, “I'm gonna say it anyway. Thank you, Hermione.”

Hermione couldn't help smiling. “Thank you, Harry,” she replied.

Grinning, Harry teased her, “There now…that wasn't so hard, was it?”

“Oh, it was bloody difficult, I tell you.”

They laughed together for a moment before Harry got a gleam in his eye. Standing up, he said, “Wait here, I've got an idea.”

He left the room and grabbed the stereo that, fortunately, ran on batteries. He returned to the living room and set it on the coffee table. Turning it on, a soft melody filled the room.

He looked down to Hermione and held out his hand. Grinning, Hermione took it and he helped her up. She loved it when they danced. It wasn't a frequent routine, but it wasn't unusual either.

“Thank Merlin you've gotten better since fourth year. I'm quite certain my toes wouldn't be able to take it.”

“Well, you know, I finally found someone willing to teach me,” Harry replied, grinning. “That certainly helped things a bit.”

Hermione focused her attention on the music and dancing with Harry. “I like this song,” she said softly after a moment. “Who sings it?”

Harry thought for a second. “Steven Curtis Chapman, I think.”

“Oh, never heard of him,” she replied. “He's good.”

“Hermione,” Harry said, smiling, “let's just dance.”

* * *

“Here you go,” Harry said, handing Hermione a glass of tea. Iced, of course, the power had yet to return.

Hermione sat on the couch, a blanket wrapped around her legs. “Thanks, Harry.”

Harry sat down next to her. He took a sip from his own glass before setting it down on the coffee table.

“I'm sorry things didn't turn out the way you planned,” Hermione said, “with the storm and all.”

“Don't be,” he said, shrugging.

“You're not disappointed?”

“Of course not. Hermione, there's nowhere else I'd rather be than right here…storm and all.”

Hermione smiled and took a drink. Placing it on the table, she maneuvered around to place her head on Harry's lap. “Same here,” she said, looking up at Harry.

Harry looked at her face for a moment, watching the light from the flames flicker across her face. Softly, he said, “Hermione? Will you marry me?”

Hermione sat up and turned to face him. “What?”

Harry repeated his question. “Will you marry me?” He continued, “I know it's kind of sudden to be asking. I mean, we've never even kissed. But, the thing is, there's no one else I'd rather spend the rest of my life with. I can't imagine anyone else being more important to me than you.”

Hermione just looked at him, thinking.

“Please, Hermione…be my wife?”

A soft smile came over Hermione's face. Finally, she whispered, “Yes. Of course I will, Harry.”

Harry smiled; that sort of genuine smile that comes straight from the heart. Leaning forward, he took Hermione in his arms and hugged her. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and buried her face in his neck. “What took you so long?” she murmured. “I love you, Harry…always will.”

“I love you too, Hermione.”

* * *

“Ahem, I beg your pardon?” asked a voice that emanated from a disembodied head in the fireplace. It was the face of Remus Lupin. Harry flooed him with a rather simple question.

“Do you know of any who can perform a marriage ceremony?” Harry repeated patiently.

“Perform, yes. Perform legally…well, that part's a bit trickier.”

“Remus, come on…be serious.”

“All right, Harry. But why do you ask?”

“Hermione and I have decided to get married.”

A loud whoop sounded. Remus, sighing, said, “Don't mind Tonks. She's been waiting for this for a long time. So have I, come to think of it. When did this happen?”

“Last night, actually.”

“When do you want the ceremony to be?”

“As soon as possible. Nothing big. Just the minister, you, and Tonks.”

“Okay, I'll make a few inquiries,” Remus replied, “Oh, and Harry?”

“What?”

Remus grinned. “About bloody time.”

* * *

“I now pronounce you, Wizard and Wife. You may kiss the bride.”

Harry turned to Hermione to see her smiling shyly. Leaning forward, he kissed her gently…their first kiss. Hermione closed her eyes and wrapped her arms around Harry's neck, one hand burying itself in his hair. The kiss was everything she knew it would be: sweet, gentle, and meaningful. It seemed as though they were never meant to kiss another; their lips met perfectly. Pulling back, they smiled and turned to face the minister.

“I now present to you, Mr. and Mrs. Harry Potter.”

Harry caught Hermione's eye and smiled. Remus and Tonks applauded madly as Harry and Hermione turned around to look at them. Harry grabbed Hermione's hand and held it.

“Wotcher, Harry. That was some kiss. I always knew I should've picked you over Remus.”

Remus glanced at his wife. Teasing, he said, “Sometimes I wish you did pick him.”

Grinning, Tonks kissed him quickly. “Never, love.” Turning to the newlyweds, she said, “Congratulations, you two. I always knew you'd end up with each other.”

“Thank you for being here, Tonks,” Hermione said.

“Wouldn't have missed for anything.”

“Not even for some balance?” Remus teased.

“Especially not for some balance. I'm quite fond of waking you up in the middle of the night when I crash into something.”

Remus smiled. Turning to Harry, he said, “I'm proud of you, Harry. You couldn't have picked someone more perfect for you. We'll leave you two alone now. Come on, honey.”

Remus, Tonks, and the minister all left through the fireplace due to the Anti-Apparition wards Harry placed some time ago.

Hermione looked at her new husband. “We're married now, Harry.”

“Doesn't feel that different, does it?”

Hermione laughed. “Not really, no. At least, not yet.”

Harry, catching her hint, said, “Well, now…we should take care of that, shouldn't we?”

Leaning forward, he kissed Hermione…his wife. He didn't know how he managed to wait so long before kissing her, before tasting her. It was everything he didn't know kissing could be; distracting, essential, enveloping, and explosive. It felt more important than breathing…well, to a certain point, anyway. He finally had to pull away to breathe.

“I love you, Hermione,” he said, smiling, “always have…always will.”

* * *

Hermione woke up to find Harry, fully clothed, gazing at her.

“Morning, sleepyhead,” he teased.

Hermione looked at him. “It's the third day.”

“Yeah,” he replied, “it is.”

Tears stung her eyes. “I know you have to go…but I don't want you to.”

Harry whispered, “I know.”

“Please come here.”

Harry moved onto the bed and kissed her. He kissed her like it might be his last time, pouring out his love for her in that one kiss.

He would come back. He had to. He loved her too much not to. But, more importantly, he loved her too much to let Voldemort live for another day.

He pulled away. Forcing a smile, Hermione said, “Go kick some arse.”

Harry nodded. He got himself out of bed and began moving towards the door.

“Harry, wait,” Hermione called out. She got out of bed, a sheet wrapped around her, and went to Harry…hugging him tightly.

Harry returned her hug.

“I love you, Harry.”

He smiled and let go. “I love you too.”

Then, his face determined, he turned and left. It was the hardest thing he'd ever had to do; leaving Hermione, knowing he might never see her again.

Hermione watched Harry walking away through the window. She clutched the sheet around her, pulling it tighter. She remembered Harry telling her something Hagrid had said. What would come, would come…and they would have to meet it when it did.

~FIN~

A/N: If you really wanna know what happens after the fight in my mind. Review, and if you ask, I'll tell you. But, ultimately, I wanted you to be able to decide. And in case you're wondering, the song I have in mind when they danced is “We Will Dance” by Steven Curtis Chapman. It's an absolutely gorgeous song. You should listen to it.

Finally, not to beg or anything, but please leave a review. Oh, heck, I'm begging you to leave a review. Who knows? It might spur me to actually finish some of my other stories…

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