AN: And so it is… Plot bunny showed up, kept nagging me, begging me to get it done… then I watched, for the second time "Closer" and it was like suddenly, the tip of the iceberg was there! Many holes in this chapter… promise to fill in. Sorry! No smut in this chapter, but some will come in next chapters.
Huge many thanks to lovely brother Gil for polishing this! You. Are. The. Best. Love you tons!
After The End
"And so it is
Just like you said it would be
Life goes easy on me
Most of the time
And so it is
The shorter story
No love, no glory
No hero in her sky
I can't take my eyes off of you"
~Damien Rice
They had all gotten their happy ending.
They sure as hell had.
They were One Big Happy Weasley Family.
But Harry used to laugh at that.
Every single time, as he walked ceremoniously to one of their meetings, he would laugh at that statement. Sometimes, he merely chuckled under his breath when he thought about it… most of the time; he would laugh it off with his actions. And, Merlin! Did he enjoy it!
There were times when he pitied Ginny. Times that he felt actual sorrow at the thought that he was making his wife go through this, even if his wife was unaware of it all. But all thoughts of sorrow, and all thoughts of Ginny, completely evaporated when he met her.
And today was one of the days in which he smiled broadly, and chuckled under his breath as he walked. Harry wasn't actually sure where he had picked up the habit of walking whenever he went to meet her, but it was comforting to think that he could always walk to her. As it was comforting to know that the sun would come out, no matter how dark the night turned; it was comfortable to know that he could walk to her, in spite of apparition, or brooms or floo powder.
His smile widened as he turned around a corner and saw her. She was sitting on a bench, in the exact spot she said she'd be. She had a heavy burgundy coat, and a knitted scarf of a dark wine colour, wrapped around her neck. Her hair was tied up in a loose bun, and a few strands of her curly hair were framing the side of her face that was visible to him.
She was wearing a pair of black trousers, and she had her gloved hands on top of her knees. Her back was held straight against the bench, and her purse was sitting next to her. She was holding a black plastic bag in her hands, and her eyes alternated between looking at the bag and staring straight ahead. She was looking at the bag as he approached her. She must have known he was there, but she surely wanted to hear what his entrance was going to be about.
"Hello stranger!" he said in an amused voice. He had just set the tone of the talking that was to come.
She turned her head to look at him, and without further thought, gave him a broad smile, her eyes sparkling in the cold. She took her purse in her hands and moved to her right, making him a spot to sit in.
He smiled back at her, fighting back the desperate need to hug her and snog her senseless right there in the street.
As he sat, however, she returned to staring straight ahead. Harry imitated her, understanding what she was asking him to do.
"And so it is," she whispered slowly, seconds after Harry started to look ahead too.
He nodded. She wasn't staring directly at him, but he knew she could see him nodding.
"Indeed," he whispered back. He smiled a bitter smile before he went on. "The many amusements of their work have taken our heroes to the city of the unknown where everything can happen if you have a computer and a blue screen!"
She laughed. Her laughter filled some of the emptiness that Harry had been holding inside his chest since he last parted with her. In spite of the cold, Harry started to feel warm.
"Otherwise known as L.A.," she said, the laughter vibrating through her words.
He nodded, laughing quietly as if not to interrupt the sound of her laughter.
"L.A. it is!" he said. He turned t look at her. Her image was breathtaking. For a moment, Harry wondered how he could have been so blind… how had he not noticed it before!
He was so stupidly in love with her that he simply couldn't believe he hadn't noticed it before. She was everything to him, she was the reason he woke up in the morning and the reason he walked and ate and breathed. In spite of his wife, she was his everything! And, true, sometimes he felt bad about doing it. He felt bad about feeling it. But he knew it could not be helped. He was in love with her. And, as much as he cared about Ginny, he knew Ginny could very well sod when the time came to be with her only.
Harry was used to have these moments. He had been dealing with them since they first started to see each other. At first, they were filled with angst and guilt. He had been unfaithful to his wife, and to the promise that he had made to her. He had broken a vow that he had swore to Ginny in front of many people, and one, that he thought, he meant to keep.
He felt miserable. He felt disgusting, and he became a traitor. He had not just began the road to finish off his marriage, he had also started to walk a road in which, when the time came, he'll be walking without his best friend.
Harry was the very thing he wanted to end with. He had become the hurt of the people he loved.
At first, what seemed worst were the holes and the emptiness. He was in love with her, but he had a wife, and if he was in love with a woman who wasn't his wife, where did that leave his wife? He had tormented himself several nights straight going over and over around the same thought. Wondering, if he had ever loved her. He wanted to think he had, but how could he have loved Ginny, if he had always been in love with her?
He went, again and again, at it. Repeating to himself he was the world's biggest jerk. He couldn't possibly be unfaithful to his wife, betray his best friend, and love someone else's wife, all at the same time. And, during those sleepless nights, Harry thought he would never be able to live with himself again.
But then he would meet her. And then he would kiss her and touch her and they would go places that neither one of them knew with their spouses.
One night, Harry stopped wondering. He stopped feeling the guilt, the sorrow, the shame. He realised that there was no way back.
He felt bad for Ginny. And he surely didn't want her to suffer. But he had realised that there was nothing he could do. Because the more time he was with her, the more time he spent loving her, the less he wanted to be with Ginny. And sadly, and though he couldn't bear to think that there will come a day when he'll have to face her and say it, he realised he had never loved Ginny.
And now Harry didn't wonder anymore if he had ever loved Ginny, or if he was a traitor, or if he deserved hell for what he was doing. He wondered how he had been so blind that he had not seen the monkey dancing in his kitchen table. He wondered how he hadn't understood before, that he was blindly, brainlessly, extraordinarily in love with Hermione.
He sighed. He somehow loved having these moments. It made him aware of how much they were achieving, even if what they were doing was called cheating. They were being themselves. And by being themselves, Harry knew, that it didn't matter how much of a cheating it could be called, they were finally being true to themselves!
"Have you been waiting for long?" he asked her.
"No, I haven't," she said slowly turning around to look at him. Her face brightened once again with that smile that Harry knew had always been his. And again, he wondered how he hadn't realised it before.
"Actually," she said, snapping Harry back to earth. "I just sat here, I was buying Ron this," she said, showing him the plastic bag.
"What is it?" he asked her, grabbing the bag from her.
"A movie," she answered, her stare fixed in his face.
Harry chuckled as he took out the DVD that was inside the bag. But he laughed out loud when he read the title.
"The Sound of Music?" he asked through the laughter. She was laughing too.
"I know," she answered. "I felt strange when I asked the retailer for it,"
"Why does Ron want 'The Sound of Music'?" he asked amused.
"I don't know," she said shrugging. "I can't even explain why he watches T.V. so much!"
"I know," Harry said. The laughter still lingered in his voice as he returned the movie to the bag. "Same with Ginny, she loves to watch the thing. I swear she watches more than I do!"
"Ron does, too," she said thoughtfully. Then she seemed to break out of her reverie. "Would you believe that he owled me from Australia this morning so I would get this for him?"
"Did not!"
"Did too!" She answered laughing. "I nearly killed him!" She sighed before continuing. "I think he never listens to me… I told him we were passing as muggles on this one!"
Harry reached out and took her gloved hand in his. He squeezed it, softly, only so that she'd feel his meaning.
"It's not that it bothers me, Harry, it doesn't," she said. Harry always felt a strange warmth inside when she spoke his name with an emphasis. She had just done so, and he could feel the strange burning inside of him. "It's just that he was about a second from blowing up our mission… and think about it, what if he had done? We would have gone back to London!"
"I know," he whispered reassuringly. "And we would have missed our Hollywood vacations."
"Well, technically, it's not-"
"I know it's not vacations!" he interrupted her with a smile. Trust Hermione to get technical. "But when it comes to you and me… we're never working, Hermione, we're living!"
She smiled at him. He read her smile and smiled back. She understood what he meant. And that was it.
A few moments of silence went by, they were simply staring at each other. Then Harry bent over and kissed her cheek. It was warm against the cold. He retreated and touched the back of his hand against her cheek, stroking softly.
"Is the hotel too far away from here?" he asked in a whisper.
"No," she said, shaking her head ever so slightly. "Just a couple of blocks, want to walk?"
"Sure,"
She smiled and got up, taking his hand in hers, and dragging him up with her. She started to walk with his hand wrapped around hers. Through their gloves, he could feel the slight fidgeting of her fingers as they repeated the motion that she started whenever they held hands.
"Did Ginny leave this morning?" she asked as they walked on the same direction Harry had been walking through.
"Yeah," he answered. "I left later, because I spent a huge bunch of time trying to make my bag,"
"As usual," she said with a playful smile as they came to a corner and waited for the light to stop the cars and allow them to cross. "To the other side, Harry, this is The United States," she said as Harry turned to look right instead of left.
"Right," he mumbled. Thank Merlin for Hermione, he thought. "Anyway, Ron, as usual, came with his old boring talk about -"
"Taking care of me?" she asked as they crossed the street, a smile playing in her voice. "Making you swear you won't get me killed and all that jazz?"
"Pretty much, yeah!"
She looked at him as they reached the other side of the street. She stood motionless for a moment, and then broke into laughter. Harry joined her, unable to contain himself.
"Well, we'll just do the usual," she said, as they reassumed their walk. "We won't tell Ron just how much care you take of me, would we?"
"As always, yours are the best ideas," he said, kissing her hand in a silly manner. "However, I hope we get back before they do, you know I hate dropping you home without a proper goodbye."
"I know," she said, she hated it too. "We'll work around it, and, if we can't, we can always come up with something to miss the games, can't we?"
"Or we could just let them think we're working," he said.
She stood silent for a few steps, and it wasn't until she pulled his arm so they'd turn a corner that he asked her what was going through her mind.
"I was just thinking… that it's… I don't mind to say we're working, I discovered I love my job!"
Harry knew she wasn't done, so, instead of replying, he asked again.
"How so?"
She stopped walking. She turned to look at Harry and her look brightened up as she woke up from her daydream state.
"Well, I'm always with you," she said, shrugging slightly. "What's there not to love?"
~ ~ ~ ~
"And we're really not paying for this!" Harry exclaimed, when he entered the suite the second time.
He had gotten in with Hermione, who had checked in the night before. But before Harry attempted any unpacking, Hermione had dragged him out of the hotel, telling him that they had to go out and get dinner.
"Why can't I unpack?" Harry protested as she closed the door behind them.
"Because you'll take ages, Harry!" she said amused, grabbing his hand and starting to walk down the corridor. "I'll do it for you when we get back, I promise,"
"Alright then," he said, a smile playing in his lips. He leaned into her and kissed her temple soundly, squeezing her hand.
Holding her hand in a place like that, where they had nothing to worry about. Where the shadows of guilt could not reach them, gave Harry the strength to keep up when they got back. He lived out of these little sabbaticals that they took from London.
It had been during this time, Harry realised, that certainly someone up there must care for him. For every time he felt like he couldn't take it anymore, every time he felt as if he was drowning in his façade, a small trip out of town would show up, and they'd escape London in a frenzy to be themselves for a few days, without the tormenting hunting that their other selves did as they breathed down their necks.
And when it wasn't them travelling, then they would be left alone. Ginny and Ron would leave for several days to attend Quidditch matches in other places of the United Kingdom, and, when they got lucky, in other countries.
And life wasn't what he had once thought it would be after Voldemort had been defeated, but at least helped them steal certain moments of happiness to fill the holes that their One Big Happy Weasley Family kept digging into them.
Harry sighed, savouring the moment of happiness that they were having right there, walking down the corridor of the hotel's third floor. He looked at Hermione, who was walking with her eyes focused on her shoes. Harry smiled. He knew that she was savouring the same moment, in the same fashion he had done. She didn't say so, but he knew. And she knew that he knew… and that was precisely what made the moments a reality to look forward to.
"Where do you suggest we have dinner then?" he asked, interrupting her reverie as they waited for the lift. She looked up at him; the sparkle of a memory that had just been unlocked was lingering in her eyes.
"I just got here last night," she said, pretending surprise. "What makes you think I can already suggest a place for us to dine?
Harry laughed softly at that. He loved this woman! He truly did! And he loved to know her in the way he did, too.
"You're my Hermione," he said, bringing her hand to his lips ceremoniously. He kissed the back of her hand, allowing his lips to linger against her skin. He released her hand slowly, and stepped back.
"And I'm sure you already ate a couple of books about the place," he said with a slight smug.
Hermione fought to contain a smile, then grabbed his hand again and stepped into the lift. By the time she pressed the number one, she had lost the battle against the smile. Harry waited, without saying anything. A young couple, around their age, got into the lift at the second floor. Harry remained quiet.
As the lift stopped on the lobby, the young couple stepped out before Harry and Hermione. And just as Hermione attempted to follow them, Harry pulled her back and she stared at him with her eyes widening.
"So?" he asked.
"So what?" she asked, a perceptible puzzle ness in her stare.
"Did you or not?"
She breathed a laugh between her teeth and gave him a reproachful look, like the one that adults reserve for toddlers when they're being annoying.
She looked away; the smile had won the war within her as she turned her look back to Harry.
"Just one," she said still resisting to the smiling. "And I believe we should go to the Ivy," she said resolutely.
Harry kissed her lips soundly in a quick kiss that had an intended meaning. The kind that served as communication for them, even when no words were included.
He retreated and he was greeted by a wide smile. Hermione chuckled, shaking her head slightly.
"And a leaflet I found at the lobby,"
Harry grinned at her and pulled her out of the lift, just in time for the doors to close behind them.
And now, an hour and a half later, after getting lost around a couple of corners; and carrying the dinner they had chosen to take to the room with them, they stepped once again into the room.
It was a large room, composed of three different smaller rooms. There was a small living room, with a large sofa on the right side, and a small wooden table with two chairs on its left side. Opposite to the door was a mini bar, with a small freezer and a shelf filled with several different kinds of glasses.
Through the right, on the end of the wall against which the sofa leaned, the space in which a door would fit, was empty, leading into the bedroom. Inside, a large bed, also made of wood, materialised into the main feature of the room. At the end of the room, a pair of glass doors led to a balcony, in which a small, round breakfast table was. In front of the bed, a plasma TV was inserted into the wall.
And where that wall met the other wall, a door led into the bathroom. The bathroom was a room almost as large as the bedroom, in which a Jacuzzi filled half the space. The wall, against which the Jacuzzi leaned, was made of glass, showing off a spectacular view of the Hollywood valley.
"I told you I love my job," Said Hermione as an answer to his statement. "Think about it," she said. "We're always together, we go out of the country to see fancy places where we never drop a penny, and we get paid for it!"
"I'd do it for free," Harry said, turning to her. She was setting the dinner they had gotten from the Ivy in the table for them. "Where this job has taken us is a priceless place for me."
She smiled at him from the table. Harry walked to her and they sat in chairs across from each other.
"So," Harry said as they tucked into their dinner. "Brief me, what are we doing here?"
"As a matter of fact," she said smiling, as Harry poured wine in her glass. "We're on holiday!"
"Holiday?" Harry said, stunned. "You said-"
"Well, not technically a holiday, thanks," she said as he passed her the glass. "You see, we're here to recognise the place…"
"You mean like -"
"Like we don't have to do the actual work," she interrupted. "Exactly!"
"Excellent!" Harry grinned. "So, we get to know Hollywood and then the Ministry sends Aurors to do the dirty work!"
"Pretty much,"
"I love you!" Harry said, leaning in the table to speak closer to her face. "I love this town. I love this job. I love you!"
Hermione laughed. Harry's face was only a few inches from hers. Harry felt the anticipation build up inside of him. He felt the odd tickling inside of him, the one he had grown accustomed to.
"That's a lot of love for you Harry," she teased with a smile.
Harry pressed his lips to her. Only pressed them against her mouth, didn't go any further into any kissing. It was almost as if he was trying to seal what he had just told her. He retreated in one swift motion.
"You know," he said. "You're supposed to say I love you too!" he exclaimed, pretending to be outraged.
"I know," she said, the smile she had just teased him with still right in place.
Harry leaned back against his chair, folded his arms in front of his chest and looked up at her expectantly. She said nothing.
"Well?" he asked.
"Well what?" she asked back, trying hard and failing terribly to.
"Agent Granger," he said, actually succeeding in keeping his face straight. "You SO asked for it!"
He hadn't finished speaking the last sentence, when he picked her from her chair and started to carry her into the bedroom.
"Harry!" she said, laughing. "We've got food!"
"We'll use a reheating charm, then!" he said as he reached the bed and lowered her to it. Lowering himself on top of her. "You haven't even properly kissed me since I got here!"
Hermione didn't reply. Instead, she leaned into him, and slowly, brought her lips to his. Unlike when he had done it before, she opened her mouth and sighed against his mouth, asking him, silently to stop the talking and get on with the kissing.
Then the kiss became a battle of their tongues, as they quickly, and skilfully took possession of the other's mouth. In a practiced motion that was now not only familiar to both of them, but that had became the source of strength with which they lived their lives. This was what Harry knew he was living for. This was why he didn't feel guilty, of the burning feeling that he felt for her. Why he didn't feel guilty of deceiving his wife.
Because, only there, with her in his arms, with her passion, her frenzy and her hunger matching his; he was his true self. He was home!
*~*~*~*~*
"All that dreaming and missing of you without having you
All that inventing you
All that crazy searching through the streets, without finding you
And then we went, on a sudden impulse
In a desperate moment
Confusing love with companionship
And the idiotic fear of being old and lonely
And we chose with the head
What was the heart's
And it's not about them
It's about time
For making me face you…
Late"
~Ricardo Arjona
Hermione sighed.
It was times like this when she felt truly and honestly stupid.
She had always been so logical, she had always had such an ability to put two and two together, that she couldn't help but feel stupid when it came to *it*.
How could she live with it, for more than a decade, and never realise it was there?
Where had all her logic gone? Why hadn't her mind put two and two together like it always did?
Didn't she have more than an ability to do that?
She sighed. She wished she could stop recriminating herself. But it was a never ending cycle. It wasn't as if one could carefully plan that kind of event; but she simply couldn't help but allow her bossy nature to take over sometimes.
Because, truth to be told, she wished it wasn't like it was.
She stared at her left hand, and unconsciously, started to roll her rings with her thumb. She felt bad when she looked down at her hand and wished those rings weren't there. She felt like she was betraying a part of herself. That part of her that had created a bond with a promise she once made. And that part of her ached with guilt when she actively failed her promise.
There was a cold breeze blowing across the unknown city, though the weather itself wasn't as cold as it had been the morning before. The breeze hit her face, and she enjoyed it as it blew her hair away from her face.
She sighed.
She was in the balcony of their room, and she had wrapped around herself one of the two robes from the bathroom. She had just heard Harry wake up. He straightened when he felt the empty space on the other side of the bed. He had reached for his glasses and scanned the space for her.
She heard him sigh and throw himself on the bed again. Then he laid down for a while, simply staring at the ceiling as he liked to do when he woke up. He fumbled around the bed for a while, as he usually did. Then, Hermione heard him get up and walk to the bathroom. She heard him as he walked to the living room, and when he stepped back into the bedroom, he was holding a mug with tea, just like the one she was now holding, and which, she wondered vaguely, why she had filled in the first place, since she hadn't even touched it.
He leaned against the glass door, and looked at her. She was facing the city; she couldn't see him looking at her, but she could feel his eyes on her.
"What's the matter?" he asked softly. Hermione feared she would find it impossible to speak past the knot in her throat. If it had been Ron who'd ask her what was happening, she would have said 'nothing'. Ron would have asked if she was sure, and when she'd say she was, he'd shrug it off and go do something else.
But with a slashing pain in her chest, she thought: this was Harry! And Harry knew. And she knew, for the life of her, that she couldn't lie to Harry.
"Hermione," he said in a questioning tone.
"Today…" She started to whisper. She turned her head slightly, fixing her gaze on the rings in her left hand again. "Today…" suddenly, She got choked up; a powerful impossibility to speak had overcome her throat.
"Today is one year," Harry whispered from behind her.
Hermione felt her eyes start to water; slowly, the tears clouded her vision. She could catch, through the blurriness, the glimmering of her engagement ring in the sunlight. She felt the stab of guilt again.
Tears rolled down her cheeks as she realised that she had been feeling those stabs of guilt for a year.
"Has it really been a year, Harry?"
He didn't respond. He didn't need to, it hadn't been a question. She didn't need an answer.
She turned her body to face Harry, fighting back the tears as she met the sad expression that possessed his features.
He met her gaze. The grass green that his eyes took on after he had just woke up, met the teary golden brown that her eyes adopted when she cried.
"You know I wish it weren't like this," he said, his words punctuated with the sadness she saw in his face.
Hermione was suddenly struck by a thought that made her widen her eyes and cover her mouth with her hands, dropping the mug on the floor, and provoking it to break in pieces and cause a piercing noise.
"Harry," she cried, horrified behind her hands.
Harry didn't wait for her to say anything else. He threw his own mug to the floor, paying no attention to whether or not it broke. He closed the distance between them in two large steps and wrapped her in a hug.
Hermione cried against Harry's shoulder, clinging to him, digging her fingernails on his back. Harry held her by the waist, and pulled her ever closer every time she let out a sob.
"Harry," she sobbed against his neck, feeling a crashed emotion between guilt and shame and the comfort of Harry's hug.
"I don't care how!" She cried. "I only care that it happened!"
Harry brought a hand to her hair and began to run his fingers through it in a slow, soothing motion. Hermione wept against Harry's embrace, trying to allow Harry's touch to soothe her. Harry didn't say anything; he just caressed her lower back, and ran his fingers through her hair.
"What kind of a woman am I, Harry?" She cried in an agonized howl.
"Hermione-" he started, but Hermione cut him off, disentangling herself from his embrace and directing her tormented stare at his eyes.
"What kind, Harry? To continue to deceive my husband like this? AND TO LOVE YOU LIKE I DO?"
Hermione hid her face in her hands, shaking her head slightly. She didn't mean to bring all the insecurities and flaws of her tormented self into this trip. They didn't even have to work! This was supposed to be a holiday for them. Why couldn't she stop recriminating herself?
She turned her back on Harry and faced the city again. Her hands were shaking, and she had to press them hard against her face so that they would stop.
A few moments of silence went by. She didn't want to look up and see Harry. Because she knew that Harry was only waiting to give her an answer. She dreaded what he would say to her. She didn't want to face the fear that maybe she was indeed horrible and cruel, and that this whole thing had been a total mistake.
But, the next thing Hermione knew, Harry's arms were wrapping her from behind, and Harry was leaning his face against her neck. She felt Harry's hands grabbing hers, and taking them away from her face, dragging them down until she'd laid them down on top of his, as his arms tightened around her waist, and he breathed against her neck, sending shivers down her spine.
"What kind of a man am I, then?" he whispered, his words vibrating in her neck. "If I love you just like you love me?"
Hermione relaxed against Harry's chest and slowly, she wrapped her arms around his.
"There's nothing like me and you," he whispered close to her ear. "We can't help that! You and me, are older than this." As he said this, he wrapped his left hand on hers, and their rings clinked against each other.
Hermione sighed, leaning her head against Harry's shoulder, and feeling her eyes water again.
"Why didn't we realise it before?" she said, so softly that she wondered if Harry had heard her. "Why is it coming to us at the cost of them?"
"I don't know," he sighed, kissing the top of her head. "I wish we hadn't needed to be imprisoned to realise what we had left outside."
"Harry, do you ever wonder what would have happened, if we…" suddenly, Hermione found herself at a loss for words. Harry caught on, however.
"If we hadn't been married?" he completed. She nodded. "No… maybe, we…-"
"Needed the prison to appreciate the freedom?" she finished for him.
"I wish it were otherwise, but yes," he said, pressing her body closer against his.
Hermione knew he was right. She couldn't explain her earlier outburst. She knew those came sometimes, during the times when she felt the weight of her betrayal. But most of the time, those outbursts came in the moments when she felt careless and free of loving Harry.
When her feelings crashed against her thoughts. When she thought it had to be wrong to love Harry, but when she felt it was right to love him. And then the rings would remind her that, however right it felt for her… it couldn't be right for Ron.
"Are you okay?" Harry asked her.
Hermione debated the thought for a moment. Her outburst had gone. Harry knew of those outbursts, he had his own sometimes, and now he wanted to make sure she didn't need to take anything else out.
She didn't.
"I am," she said, raising her hand to caress Harry's face. "I'm sorry I ruined the first morning of our trip,"
"Don't be sorry," he said, turning her to see her face. "You haven't ruined anything!"
"Harry, I just had an emotional breakdown!" she said.
"Hermione," he said. "This is what makes us, us! We face each other and we're not afraid to be ourselves… this is… you're my safe place, where I can be me! You… you…-"
"You're my home!" she whispered.
Harry nodded slowly, taking a long blink as he did so. He touched her temple with the back of his hand, moving it up and down, and taking in the moment, Hermione had an idea. Her eyes widened and she looked up and Harry for a moment, then placed her hand on top of his. Their rings clinked again. She knew it may not mean something at all, but this week had to be perfect and if that was what it was going to take, so be it!
Hermione let go of Harry and ran into the room.
"What just happened in your mind?" he asked after her.
"Just a moment," she said. She opened the handbag her mother had given her on her twentieth birthday, and which she always took on travels. She searched inside of it, it had to be there, she had never used it! She had never found use for it, but she had kept it within the bag as she received it.
There it was!
She pulled out a small velvet pouch, with a thin ribbon that closed it. She smiled at it. It was it!
"What's that?" Harry asked as he reached her.
"Is just what we need," she said, raising up and looking at Harry. She took his hand in hers and once again, their rings clinked. "This week, Harry, we are going to see like we did before we became imprisoned."
Harry gave her a puzzled look. Then, he looked from her to the small pouch in her hand, and when he looked at her again, there was the understanding she had been waiting for.
"You're brilliant!" he said, a wide smile on his face. He moved their hands so that he was the one holding hers, and ever so slowly, took away her engagement and wedding rings. Then, just as slowly he brought her hand to his mouth and placed a long lingering kiss upon the back of it.
He freed her hand, and she understood his gesture. Just as slowly as he had done, she took his ring from his finger. Then, she placed his hand against her temple. And now she felt it!
The rightness of it was there! Their hands were naked in the company of the other. They didn't need to wear any masks when they were alone. Their hands were naked… as were their souls. She smiled at Harry, and he returned her smile. She kissed his palm as he withdrew his hand, and took the pouch from her.
"These rings," he said as he placed her rings on the pouch. "Belong to the other Harry and the other Hermione." He held the pouch open for her, and she dropped Harry's ring inside of it, hearing as they made the last clink of that trip.
"This week," Harry said, closing the small bag. "We're just Harry and Hermione."