Author's Note: Liked the idea of a Marriage Law, so tried to give it my own take. The reviews have been lovely…I'm glad there is so much interest in my story.
AN2: This chapter is a little on the short side, but there was such a natural place to end it that I did.
Oh and none of these people are mine….
What Might Have Been
Chapter Seven
Harry was on tenterhooks for the remainder of the evening, and was colossally unable to hide his unease from Hermione. She had wanted… well, she had wanted the exact same thing that Harry had wanted…again…but Harry could not bring himself to go into her room. Not when he knew what Ron was planning…it seemed like betrayal in the worst possible way.
Of course, he couldn't tell Hermione why - he'd promised Ron, and it was a marriage proposal, after a fashion - and they'd had an enormous row - their first - and ended up slamming up to their individual rooms in sulky silence.
Oh God, Harry thought, this might have been my last night with her, and I have royally mucked it up. But, no…I couldn't…it'll be hard enough explaining about the other time…if Ron ever finds out.
He flopped listlessly down onto his bed, feeling thoroughly miserable. He wanted Hermione…in more ways than one. Their encounter that day had made him hungry for more. Like an addict, he wanted to know all of her; he couldn't get enough.
And soon, she would belong to someone else…maybe forever. One didn't hear about divorce often in the wizarding world. He imagined her, looking ethereal in white…lots of candles and flowers, I suppose…something sparkly in her hair. Hermione, his Hermione, pledging her eternal devotion to … Ron?
When Harry inhaled his next breath, it was painful, and he made a kind of hoarse, gasping noise. I can't do it. Bloody hell, I can't stay away from her.
In one desperate, fluid motion, he jerked himself up from the bed, and flew towards the door, swinging it open so wide that it hit the wall behind it, and nearly collided with Hermione.
Hermione had turned toward Ron and Harry, as Voldemort vanished with an echoing cry. There was a gleam of triumph in her eyes that she saw also beaming from Ron's. He had done it. Voldemort's hold over their lives was over. They were free.
A slight movement caught her eye, as Harry swayed back and forth for a moment like a sapling buffeted by a gust of wind. She had taken only one step toward him, one arm outstretched, when he collapsed.
And her world collapsed with him.
She loved him. She had for a long time. She had known it for a long time. It had never been said that Hermione Granger was a girl who didn't know her own mind. That it was hopeless she had also known and accepted for a long time. She had been content to be his friend.
In the instant between Voldemort's vanquishing and Harry's collapse, she had a shining moment of clarity in which she saw a beautiful, idyllic vista of a future. Voldemort was gone; Harry was alive.
She suddenly realized how wrong she might be, and dropped to her knees on the dusty, rubble-strewn floor of the Great Hall, at his side.
"Harry?" she said, hoarsely, chokingly. Tears left shiny trails down her dirty face. His scar had split open, and was bleeding rather copiously. He was so pale. She suddenly noticed his wand hand…a livid weal standing out across his palm, from the force of the magic that been emitted..
She distantly heard Ron shouting for a healer, but didn't look up, cradling Harry's injured hand in her arms, instead.
How much had he sacrificed to save the world? How much would she be required to give up if he didn't make it?
She was standing just outside his door, one hand upraised, about to knock. She blinked at him, startled.
"Going somewhere?" she finally asked.
"To see you," he said simply, unable to take his eyes off of her.
"I didn't think you wanted to see me at all," her voice was quiet, and hurt flickered in her eyes. His stomach clenched.
"No," he said, unevenly, "no, it's not - it's not that - not at all. I just -" He let out a frustrated growl, looking helplessly around his room, as he ran his hands through his hair.
"Harry, what is it?" She took his hand in hers, concern on her face. "Why are you so upset? Talk to me."
He couldn't look at her. He had been going to see her, and now that she was here, he couldn't meet her eyes. Ron, Ron, Ron, it pounded in his head like a pulse. Ron sliding a ring on her finger, Ron smiling in candlelight, Ron holding a red-headed baby, while Hermione beamed nearby, Ron…and Hermione…
"Harry?" Hermione tugged at his sleeve, her concern turning into anxiety.
"He's going to take you away from me," he finally said, turning to gaze at her. The force of passion blazing from his green eyes was nearly tangible in the room.
"Do you think I care about the - the sanctity of marriage? With Malfoy?" Her voice was low, and she managed a shaky, strained laugh. "You know I love you."
He smiled at her, but it didn't light his eyes. "Malfoy wouldn't stand for unfaithfulness, although he probably would share with his friends," he said bluntly, but then waved his hand, as if Malfoy were of no consequence. "But I wasn't talking about him. I was talking about - " He broke off suddenly.
"Someone else is going to propose?"
Harry nodded once, his eyes far away once again.
"But that's good…isn't it?" Harry looked at her suddenly, as if he'd just remembered she was there.
"Yes, it's good," he said shortly, his thoughts clearly elsewhere. His stance was that of pure tension, as he stood rigidly near one post of his bed, his hand clenched so tightly around the newel that his knuckles were white.
She took a step toward him, his hand still tightly twined in hers. "Harry," she said emphatically. "I'm not married yet." Her meaning was unmistakable. "I'm not even engaged yet." She tilted her chin up, moving her head around so that she met his eyes. Their gaze met and locked, and Hermione felt her knees become unstable. "We should take advantage of the time we have left," she murmured, before she kissed him.
And he kissed her back. And the kiss was full of passion and anger and despair and longing and hunger. Hermione's legs gave out completely, and she pulled Harry down with her. If the bed hadn't been right behind them, they would have tumbled to the floor. As it was, she was now prone, with Harry's comforting weight on top of her, and her lips being ravaged by his. His hand trailed sparks down the side of her face, through the tips of his fingers, and continued downwards, tracing her collarbone, the side of her breast, her ribs, and her hip. Hermione felt her breathing hitch, and there was liquid warmth in the pit of her stomach. She shifted her hips to more comfortably mesh with his…
Harry shot up as if someone had thrown cold water on him, and staggered unevenly away from her.
"Hermione, we can't!" he protested wildly. He looked frantic, and Hermione wondered at his extreme reaction.
"Why not?" She cried, feeling somehow foolish and wanton at the same time.
He didn't answer, but walked to the window and leaned against the coolness of the glass. He was still breathing raggedly. His pulse was rapid, and seemed to be pounding why not? Why not? Why not?
Hermione sat in silence on Harry's bed, with tousled hair, swollen lips, and starry eyes. She was beautiful. She watched Harry's back, tension and anxiety ever apparent, as he stared moodily out the window.
"Why won't you look at me?" she asked, as if she were inquiring how Quidditch practice went. There was silence. "Harry!" she cried angrily.
He wheeled violently toward her, his eyes blazing. "Because if I look at you, we'll end up doing that again," he gestured toward the bed, "and we can't! Do you hear me? We can't!"
Hermione looked at him for a moment, regarding him silently.
"It's Ron, isn't it?" she said finally, and his name seemed to reverberate around the room. "Ron's going to propose to me, isn't he?"
Harry nodded, once, stiffly. For the first time, Hermione was fully aware of the depth of pain present in Harry's eyes.
"Oh," she said simply.
There was a long silence.
"Now, d'you see why - ?" Harry asked desperately, wanting her to understand.
Hermione nodded. She did understand. She tried to imagine what he was going through, what it would be like to give up the person you loved to your best friend, knowing that it was what was best, saving them from an uncertain future.
"He was my first friend. No questions asked. I can't betray him, Hermione."
"I know," she said softly. "I wouldn't ask you to."
"He won't mistreat you. I even think he still fancies you a bit," Harry said, his tone light, but his eyes dark.
Hermione managed a weak, wobbly smile. The silence seemed to stretch out into years, as they gazed wordlessly at each other. The naked yearning in Harry's eyes brought tears to Hermione's.
"Oh God," she finally choked, turning away from him, and struggling mightily not to sob out loud.
"Hey, hey, hey," Harry soothed, his voice warm in her ear. His arms went around her, and she leaned back into his comforting embrace. He kissed her temple, and when she turned to look at him, her eyes dewy and wet, he kissed her lips.
This was not like their previous kiss. This was slow and tender, a benediction, Hermione thought distractedly. Harry was saying good-bye.
"I love you," she murmured, her voice willfully tremulous.
"I know," he said softly. "I love you too. And so will he."
TBC
(ducks incoming stones) Okay, okay…don't anybody freak out. I'm just trying to make it as angsty as possible. I like Angsty Harry. Is a baby loophole too cliché? The trio could then deal with fall-out. Or do we have Hermione and Ron get married, but then kill Ron off somehow? I will repeat: I really do like Ron, and this will not be a Ron-bashing fic.
Thanks ever so much for the reviews. They are my sustenance!
-->