A/N: Ok folks, this is it, the last chapter. Once again, I apologize for the shortness of all of this but I do really hope to have something that I've been working on up soon that is longer. I hope you all have enjoyed this little piece thus far and I also hope that the ending is suitable for you all. If not, oh well, it's my story. And now, the conclusion!
*~*
When I woke the next morning I smiled, daring to believe that it was really Harry's arms that I was entwined in. He smelled so good, like rough hand made soap and hickory. As my mind came out of the fog left over from sleep, I thought about all of the things that he and I would have to talk about through the course of the day and I became scared.
Harry stirred beside me and opened his eyes, peering at me with groggy eyes. A small smile spread across his face and it was then that I noticed how very weathered and old he looked. His eyes held an empty gaze and it hurt my heart to know that what I would tell him about my life would only worsen that empty, hollow look.
We got out of bed together and Harry went ahead of me to make morning tea. I dressed slowly, allowing me more time to get my thoughts together and brace myself for the conversation that I knew was inevitably coming. When I went into the kitchen, Harry was already seated at the table sipping his tea. He appeared apprehensive and a little scared. I sat down opposite him, leaving my tea untouched. I did not have much of an appetite; I felt nauseous at the thought of what was coming. I looked at him, still slightly disbelieving that he was sitting in front of me.
"You were dead." I found that my voice was uncomfortably scratchy and much lower than normal. Harry looked at me a moment before he answered.
"I guess you could say that. From what I saw last night, it seems that you have been dead too."
His words shook me and I knew that he was absolutely right. Most of my heart had died with him, or at least the idea that he was dead. I nodded my head slowly and thought carefully about what I wanted to ask.
"Harry, where have you been? Why did they tell me that you were dead if it wasn't true? Why would they, you, do something like that to me?
His face grew dark as memories he obviously wanted to forget flickered through his mind. He bowed his head slightly and took another sip of tea.
"I can't really give you any details at the moment; I wish I could. You see, I don't know what happened myself. What I do know is that I killed Voldemort, sustained serous injury, and woke up three days ago. Remus told me how long I had been in the coma and I couldn't believe him. Three years? I have missed three years and that is no small chunk of time. I have lost three years of my life that I will never have again. He wouldn't tell me why everyone was informed that I was dead."
His tone of voice had taken on a bitterness that I hadn't heard in him since after Sirius and then Dumbledore were killed. It shook me that Harry had lost such time and yet had no way to account for it. He turned his gaze back to me and I knew what was coming next. I braced myself for the question that I knew was sure to come sooner or later.
"What has happened to you Hermione? Who was that man that you were-uh- with last night?"
It was obvious that he was hurt by seeing me with Vincent. As I quickly wondered whether he had heard me scream his name, he answered the question for me.
"I know that this may sound quite odd but, when you, you know, finished, did you call out my name?"
His cheeks were a little red from obvious embarrassment and U hung my head in shame. I knew the time had come for me to tell him everything that had happened to me in his absence.
"Yes." I said simply. I took a deep breath and recounted to Harry my dependence on alcohol and Vincent. Through my story he remained calm and expressionless and it was almost unsettling.
"Harry, I was broken. It was like someone had ripped my heart out and put it through a blender. My mind was always clouded by the alcohol; it numbed me to the pain of missing you but also made me miss you more. The night I came onto Ron, he left me, for good. Vincent was there for me when I had no one. But I never slept with Vincent. Physically yes, I did, but emotionally and mentally it was you, and only ever you that I thought of. He never heard me cry his name out, he only heard yours. Your name always rolled from the tip of my tongue with ease in those moments of supposed pleasure and for just those instances it was like I still had you.
Last night Vincent tried to leave me and I attacked him. What you walked in on has been a common occurrence since shortly after the news of your `death' reached me. I was determined that if I could not have you for real, then I would make him be you."
The blank expression on Harry's face had been replaced by one of anger, fear and grief. Tears rolled freely down his face as he processed everything I said. His tears triggered my own and we sat motionless, crying for one another. After a moment, I gathered myself enough to speak in a hoarse whisper.
"I know that the odds of you still loving me are very much against me but please know that I am so very disgusted with what I have done, what I have become. My actions are inexcusable. I will ask no more from you than your friendship, if you can even bring yourself to give me that."
There was silence, deafening and cold. Harry wiped his eyes and fixed me with an intense stare.
"Hermione, I am unsure of a lot of things right now, but one thing I am sure of is that I love you. I know that this has been horrible for you, and I'm not trying to make excuses for the things you've done, but I think we can get through this. It is going to take a lot of work and we are going to have to start over fresh, but I know we can do it. We'll get you help for the alcohol and I'll be there every step of the way-if that is what you want. I understand if you don't or can't but I hope you will at least give it a try."
My tears turned to sobs and as I gasped for breath, I nodded my head in acceptance. I knew that finally, my life was going to be what I always hoped it would.
*~*
That was eight years ago. I entered a rehabilitation program for alcoholics and Harry was with me every step of the very hard way, just as he promised he would be. A year after I finished the program we got married. Ron was the best man and he and I worked out the kinks from our failed friendship and started anew. Harry and I have two children now, Eris Lillyanne who is seven, and Briggitte Aurora who is five.
So looking back at what my life has become, it still makes me sick. Not at the outcome but at all of the things I put myself through to get to this point. I was naïve to the ways of love but now I spend my days working through them with my husband, my love, my second chance at a life better than anything I could have ever imagined.
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