Author's Note: Liked the idea of a Marriage Law, so tried to give it my own take.
Oh and none of these people are mine….
What Might Have Been
Chapter Eighteen
Harry gaped at Ginny for a moment. "You - you're - a … reporter?" he finished, trailing off the word "reporter" dubiously.
"Well, not yet…but I think I might like to be, once I finish school. The Prophet was just salivating for a story about you - that wouldn't get them all hexed - and since I know the owner personally…" Ginny grinned merrily, obviously thoroughly enjoying this. Harry rolled his eyes.
"How did you know he was going to ask me to marry him?" Hermione asked curiously, and Ginny all but crowed with glee.
"So, he did already? I knew he was going to, I just knew it!" She spread the parchment open for them to see. At the top, in large bold letters, obviously intended to be the headline, it read:
"HARRY POTTER TO WED SCHOOLMATE"
"You were assuming an awful lot, weren't you, Gin?" Harry asked, in amusement. Ginny blinked back at him, seriously.
"You would have completely messed up my lead-in, if you hadn't proposed, Harry."
"Well, that was why I did it," Harry muttered in an aside to Hermione. She elbowed him in the ribs, and he continued to scan the article. It appeared to be well-written, with numerous references to Harry and Hermione's long-standing friendship, and their involvement in the defeat of Voldemort in the final battle.
Not once was Harry referred to as the Boy Who Lived.
"The missing third of the famed Golden Trio is none other than Ronald Weasley, who had gallantly offered to marry Miss Granger, when her Muggle-born status placed her in peril under the now-void Marriage Law. When he was queried about his feelings regarding the relationship between Miss Granger and Mr. Potter, he said simply, `Harry has been through more in 17 years than most wizards see in a lifetime. Happiness has been a long time coming for him, and he deserves it.'" Hermione read aloud, and glanced at Ginny with misty eyes. "Did he really say that?" Ginny raised her wand formally.
"On my honor as a witch," she replied.
"Is the Marriage Law really defunct?" Hermione asked, looking over the article with interest.
"Not officially…yet. But Madame Bones has said it's the first order of business once she's officially in office," Ginny replied, sounding quite concise and confident.
Harry also noticed that there was a segment of the article dealing with the attack at wedding, as well as Harry's confrontation with Cornelius Fudge. However, there was no mention of Hermione's pregnancy or Ron's decking of him after the Lifebonding ceremony failed. He asked her about those omissions.
"I wanted to ask you first," Ginny shrugged. "It's really not anybody's affair, but there's the slight problem that everybody's going to find out about it anyway." Hermione and Harry exchanged glances.
"If people are going to hear about it anyway, it may as well be on our terms," Harry finally said. The three teens huddled together over the parchment, with Hermione or Harry occasionally offering suggestions, while Ginny scribbled furiously. At last, she leaned back, and all three perused the sentence in question, after coming to the conclusion that simplicity was, perhaps, best.
"Mr. Potter and Miss Granger are overjoyed to announce that they are expecting a further addition to their new family by June, just after graduation."
Ginny looked up at Harry uncertainly. "Are you sure that's enough?"
Harry glanced at the line again. "It's the truth," he said firmly. "It's just an article, not an editorial or an interview. I didn't buy the Prophet so it could sing glowing praises of me. I just want people to know the truth." Ginny nodded seriously, while Hermione fumbled with the cuff of her formal robe, obviously wanting to ask the younger witch something.
"Is this - is this going to … you know, tarnish Harry's reputation?" she asked uncertainly.
"I don't give a damn about my - " Harry began, but Ginny interrupted him.
"Do you mean, how many mothers will have kittens about `extracurricular' activities of their children's role model?" Harry turned crimson, but Hermione nodded. "Oh, loads of `em," Ginny shrugged, with a don't let it bother you look. She consulted her parchment again, and chewed thoughtfully on the end of her quill. "Do you have a date?"
"To go where?" Harry asked stupidly. Hermione elbowed him in the ribs, and Ginny snorted.
"For. The. Wedding," Ginny enunciated slowly, smirking at him. Harry glowered at her, but then looked expectantly at Hermione.
"Well, when do you want to get married?" he asked her, his eyes twinkling.
"Oh, I don't know. How about tomorrow?" Harry looked at her in surprise.
"Okay," he said, a little dubious about her unexpected response.
"Really?" Hermione looked dumbfounded, and Harry wondered if he'd called her bluff.
"Sure," he replied, as he rolled the idea around in his mind. "Why not?" He wondered idly if there was any family jewelry in his vault, and thought that a trip back to Diagon Alley might be in order. "We can have Lupin and your parents here in no time, and everyone else is here."
She looked at him again, with a shy, uncertain, almost tentative look. It would have been incongruous in anyone else, but Harry understood. He smiled crookedly at her. I know, he thought, I can't believe it either. He suddenly became aware of Ginny clearing her throat loudly, and wondered how long they'd been staring at each other.
When Ginny had declared the article complete, she hurried down to the Owlery to send it to the Prophet offices, and Harry and Hermione wandered up to their common room for dinner. Harry held her hand clasped loosely in his.
"Long day?" he asked, quirking an eyebrow at her.
"No, it was kind of boring, really," she said sarcastically. "I almost got married, found out I was pregnant with some other bloke's child, got attacked, and then got engaged."
"Yeah, you're right," Harry mused, in a similar vein, "That is fairly dull, compared to what we usually deal with." Hermione grinned at him, and bumped him playfully with her shoulder.
When they arrived in their common room, they saw that the sofa and chairs had been replaced with a small table, set rather romantically for two. The lights in the room had been lowered, and soft music was coming from somewhere. Hermione glanced at Harry, a wisp of a smile trailing around her mouth.
"You put Dobby up to this, didn't you?"
"When did I have time?" Harry protested, innocently, but Hermione figured he had wrangled it somehow. They both sat down, and looked at each other rather shyly. Hermione flushed red when Harry's warm gaze appeared to be fixed on her. She rolled her eyes at herself.
"This is stupid," she burst out suddenly. "I'm having your baby, and we've been suddenly robbed of the ability to make dinner conversation!" Harry grinned, and poked the roast beef that had appeared on his plate with a fork.
"It just doesn't seem real," he admitted softly. "I had trouble believing that you wanted me…before all this marriage law nonsense started. And now…there's nothing standing in our way, and I can't believe it. Nothing in my life has ever gone this right before."
Hermione thought of the events of the day, and chuckled. "I would say that I'd hate to see what your life looks like when it's going wrong, if this is what you call going right. But I have seen it, and when your life goes wrong, it does so in a spectacular fashion!"
"Well, I won't have mediocrity!" Harry said loftily, and Hermione giggled, looking surprised at the bubbly laugh that escaped her lips. His eyes snapped back to her, at her laugh, and he turned suddenly serious. "Hermione, I love you."
Her eyes misted at his solemn declaration. "I love you too."
"I meant what I said earlier."
"'Bout what?" Her eyes were soft and limpid in the candlelight, and Harry felt his heart rate accelerate just looking at her.
"About you - the baby - this - being everything I ever wanted." Hermione's heart clenched, and seemed to literally skip a beat. She'd always wondered if that ever really happened.
"I know." They both sat in silence for a time, each just enjoying, savoring the presence of the other. They played with their food, occasionally taking a bite, but the interest was far more focused on the person opposite that on their plates. Ron would have been appalled. Hermione took a deep breath, and listened to the silence, broken only by the subtle crackle of the fire and the ting of Harry's fork against his plate. It was like life had been distilled down to its simplest essence….to be. Hermione thought that Harry had probably not had many moments like that in his life.
"Well," Harry began, swallowing a bite, and speaking conversationally, as if they'd been engaging in small talk all this time. "Have you packed?"
"Packed?" Hermione echoed. "For what? We can't take a honeymoon now. It's the middle of term. I guess we'd have to go during Christmas. We certainly won't get a chance after the baby is born. I'm sure Mum would say something about the consequences of irresponsibility, but I don't…"
"Hermione!" Harry said, half-laughing, as her words picked up speed. "I wasn't talking about a honeymoon… but we could take one at Christmas, if you want to." Hermione bit her lip, and her eyes sparkled with anticipation.
"Where do you want to go?" she asked, leaning forward with excitement. Harry shrugged.
"Doesn't matter to me. I've never been anywhere." Hermione felt a pang as she considered the truth of this statement, but remembered Harry's comment about packing, and refused to be sidetracked thusly.
"If not a honeymoon, what then?" she said. He lowered his eyes for a moment, and then looked back up through his lashes. No boy should be allowed to have lashes like that. It's criminal. Hermione thought in fascination that he had no idea at all what an appealing picture he made. His eyes were crystalline in the fire light.
"I just meant that you wouldn't need your room anymore." Hermione had somehow not thought of this yet. She felt her bones melt, and pool somewhere in her stomach, a delicious, leaden warmth.
"Oh…" she said vaguely.
Hermione Granger was getting ready to leave for her seventh year at Hogwart's. She had helped the Boy Who Lived face down Voldemort himself. She was at the top of her class, the brightest witch of her age, and Head Girl to boot. Why then was her hand trembling, as she adjusted the strap on her bag? Why was she standing out on the sidewalk, watching the students mill around, when she had just seen Harry, Ron, and Ginny board the train?
She wasn't sure if she could face him just yet. She had seen him standing there, unmoving in the stream of humanity, his face shadowed, thoughtful, far away. Where had he been this summer? How had he dealt with what he had been through? Was he going to let anybody in? Would he let her in?
Ginny had reached out and touched his arm gently. Harry had started from his reverie, and managed a smile. Ron had clapped him on the back. They had heaved their trunks and belongings aboard the Express…
And yet, Hermione stood, still, out on the sidewalk, shiny Head Girl badge affixed to the school robes that she had thrown on over her Muggle clothes, although the robes were still unfastened.
She stood by her earlier decision not to tell him how she felt. He had been through enough. She was doing it for his own good, really. She pushed down the surge of fear that thrummed through her when she visualized telling him. Some bloody Gryffindor I am, she thought hotly.
The Express whistle sounded, and she resolutely shouldered her bag, moving toward the train. Her expression was determined, giving at least the appearance of confidence. She was Head Girl after all, best friend of Harry Potter.
Best friend…
She sighed, and stopped just past a compartment, having seen a flash of red hair within. She inhaled again, deeply, cursing the part of her that was desperate to see how he had been doing. You can't let him know. You can't let him know, she said to herself, trying to be convincing.
She poked her head into the compartment.
"There you are!" she began, heartily.
They were sitting at breakfast in the Great Hall the next morning, when the morning post arrived. Harry and Hermione both eyed the owls nervously, wondering what the response of the wizarding world would be to the general debacle of yesterday. They had not missed the hissing murmur that followed them to the Gryffindor table, upon their entrance into the Great Hall. Hermione had felt her face began burning of its own volition, at the nudges and stares, but watched with fascination as Harry grabbed her hand firmly, and helped her sit down at her usual spot.
"Don't let it bother you," he said. "You kind of get used to it after awhile."
"It's all so personal," she whispered, as he solicitously poured her a goblet of pumpkin juice. "And they all know we…"
"Yeah," Harry said, buttering a piece of toast. "What're you going to do? Can't change it." He shrugged. "You want grape or raspberry?" Hermione laughed.
"Harry, honestly! I can fix my own breakfast." He had handed her the toast, with a gallant nod, but was teasingly holding the jam pot out of her reach, when the owls began to flap in.
Hermione noticed that for all Harry's blasé attitude about the gossip, he too was watching the owls carefully. The volume of chatter escalated noticeably once people started unrolling their copies of the Prophet and other periodicals. Harry and Hermione both received a fair amount of mail, but Harry was relieved to see no red envelopes in the mix…at least, not yet.
Ron had finally pried himself from the depths of his plate long enough to let out a snort of disbelieving laughter, and show something to Neville.
"Oy, Harry!" Neville called out, before Ron could stop him. "Have a look at this!" He shoved what was obviously some kind of wizarding tabloid down the table toward Harry.
Harry's eyes flicked over to Ron, who was watching a little nervously. They hadn't spoken since Harry decked him in the corridor outside the hospital wing, and there would be issues to resolve for some time to come.
The headline blared, "POTTER FIANCÉE TO BEAR YOU-KNOW-WHO'S LOVE CHILD".
Harry's face darkened momentarily, and Ron looked a little fearful. He slid the paper over to Hermione, who read it and snorted in disgust.
"What rubbish," she snapped. "Don't tell me there are people who really believe this?" She took a swig of juice, and promptly spit it all over the page, pointing to a subheader further down the column. "This actually says that that's why you killed him!"
Harry looked at her for a moment, his eyes widening in stunned disbelief. There was silence on their end of the table. Then there was the sound of an unsuccessfully repressed snort from Ron. Neville and Ginny snickered. Harry felt the corners of his mouth beginning to twitch.
"This is just sick on so many levels," Hermione said to herself, still perusing the article, completely oblivious to the others at the table.
"Didn't you all hear Harry march up to Voldemort and demand to know whether or not he was shagging Hermione?" Ron asked.
"Yup," Harry said agreeably, munching on a slice of bacon. "I AK'd him in a fit of jealous rage!" The two boys exchanged glances then, and Harry lost it. Ron was already pretending to bang his head against the table, amid peals of laughter.
Hermione finally looked up from the paper, and rolled her eyes. "Really!" she muttered half under her breath. "Considering that it's me that they're saying shagged Voldemort, I'd think you'd take it a little more seriously!" Something was glimmering fondly in her eyes that belied her words, as she watched Harry and Ron act idiotically. They hadn't been able to do that in a while.
"Ginny!" Parvati shrieked, from a little further down the table. "You wrote the Prophet article?"
"She sure did!" Harry said loudly, while Ginny blushed with self-consciousness and pride.
"It's bloody brilliant," agreed Neville, who'd just filched Hermione's copy, and begun reading it. Murmurs of assent rippled down the Gryffindor table.
"Ron, about that article," Harry began, seriously, stealing a momentary lull in the conversation, as people read Ginny's piece. Ron looked at him inquiringly, and Harry swallowed, hoping he wouldn't get all emotion and cause Ron to freak out. "I - you - thanks for what you said, mate. That really means a lot."
Ron smiled crookedly at him, and his eyes drifted over to Hermione, then back to Harry. "I really meant it," he said, trying to make the moment casual by salting his eggs. "Not that I'm glad, you know, about the entire bloody world knowing about my own bloody business." He darted a look at Harry. "I did find out what the word `cuckold' meant though, so it hasn't been a total wash. I do think that I have earned the right to be the baby's godfather." He shoved a forkful of eggs into his mouth. He was deliberately trying to be casual, much as he had outside the hospital wing. Harry knew that it was a Ron-way of dealing with uncomfortable things, and at that moment, he had never been so grateful to him for it.
"Wouldn't think of asking anybody else, Ron," Harry said, truthfully.
"No other alternative at all, really," Hermione piped in, having been listening surreptitiously for the last couple of moments. Ron smiled a little then, and Harry had a sudden flash-forward of them all sitting around a dinner table in somebody's house, talking companionably with kids shrieking in the background.
"Ron," Harry said, breaking the pleasant thought, by speaking hesitantly. "I know I have absolutely no right to ask you this, but - " Ron slanted an unreadable look up at him.
"I'll stand up with you, mate," he said seriously, before adding in a lighter tone. "B'lieve you owe me that too, actually." Harry grinned back, and darted a quick look at Hermione to ascertain that she was once again immersed in her paper.
"I've got to go to Gringotts. I think my mum's jewelry might be in there, and I've got to get a ring for Hermione."
"When are you going to go?" Ron asked.
"Got to be today. We're - we - we're getting married this afternoon." He looked uncertainly at Ron, thinking that he'd seen something flash briefly in Ron's eyes. "Ron-" he said, but Ron cut him off.
"Want me to come with?" he asked, nonchalantly. Harry eyed him sidewise.
"If you're sure…"
A mere hour later found Harry and Ron strolling through Diagon Alley, having availed themselves of the floo in the Head common room, and their Headmaster's good graces. Hermione had muttered darkly about their missing so many classes, but had had the good sense to refrain from asking why they were going. They were crossing the alleyway toward the entrance of Gringotts, having been distracted only once by a special sale on Quidditch gear, and Ron was doing a quite passable impersonation of Harry telling Voldemort off for stealing his woman, when Harry stopped short, flinging up his hand in a signal for Ron to stop. Ron had been around Harry long enough to know that this rarely meant anything good.
"What is it?" he whispered, reaching for his wand. Harry stood, still and alert, for a moment longer, and then relaxed.
"I thought - but I must have been seeing things." Ron was less convinced, and was still looking nervously behind them, as they entered the wide marble hall of Gringotts.
One wild and stomach-churning cart ride later (Harry was beginning to regret the second helping of sausage at breakfast), they were standing in front of his family vault. He opened it wide, quelling the uncertainty he felt at displaying his wealth in front of Ron, and said, "I don't know where jewelry would be. Perhaps in a case or something." His best mate didn't wait to be asked, but moved into the vault with Harry, and began searching for a jewelry box.
A moment later, Ron held up a polished mahogany box, with a golden clasp on it. "I think this is it." Harry took the case, flipped the latch, and exposed a velvet lined interior, with quite a few pieces of pretty jewelry. He found himself having difficulty swallowing, facing such tangible evidence of his mum's life. He fingered two rings, a largish diamond solitaire and a gold channel band, inset with several tiny diamonds.
"These were her wedding rings," he whispered hoarsely. Had they been enclosed with her personal effects after she - ? Who had brought all of the valuables here? It was something that he had never considered before. Ron picked up a wide white-gold band that obviously a man's, and wordlessly added it to the two rings already in Harry's palm. He looked Harry levelly in the eye.
"I think Hermione'd be honored. And so would your mum," he said simply. Harry tightened his lips together in resolve, and closed his fingers around the rings. He closed the box, and placed it back in the vault.
"I'll bring her back up here sometime, and let her look at the rest of it…see what she wants," Harry mused almost to himself. The thought had an element of unreality to it - hell, his entire life did…still. This would be their vault…she was going to be his wife…they were going to have a baby… He rubbed the bridge of his nose underneath his glasses.
"You ought to get her name put on your vault too," Ron put in thoughtfully. "You know, so she can access it…inherit it if any - well, anyway, you ought to do that, while we're here," he finished hastily.
"You're right," Harry said, that thought having not occurred to him either. They had a brief visit with a goblin at one of the high tables in the lobby before leaving, and straightened all that out as well. Hermione would have to come by herself and sign something, but everything was otherwise in order.
"So, are you nervous?" Ron asked Harry as they stepped back out of the bank, blinking at the sunlight, and headed back to the Leaky Cauldron.
"A little," Harry admitted. "Were you?" The words slipped out before he could ponder the inappropriateness of them.
"I was afraid I was going to yak on Dumbledore. Or you…" Ron said, with a small grin. "If I'd known the way things were going to turn out, I would have yakked on you."
"How long will I have to keep hearing about this?" Harry said with a mock-whine.
"Oh, for the rest of your blooming life, Potter!" Ron said cheerfully. "You owe me, remember?"
"Right," Harry said, "and I suppose - " He stopped suddenly, at the intersection of Diagon and Knockturn Alleys, looking curiously down the crooked alleyway that always seemed dim, no matter what time of day it was. Ron was several meters further down Diagon Alley, before he realized that Harry was no longer beside him.
"Harry…" Ron said, with that wary look of someone who knows all too well that he was about to get tangled up in something most probably unsavory. He saw Harry's eyes grow steely, and his fingers subtly draw his wand.
"Malfoy…" Harry hissed, and flung himself down Knockturn Alley.
TBC
Almost done…there are a couple more loose ends to tie up!
Hope you enjoyed!
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