The Interview

The Interview

To him, it was like the other countless interviews he had been forced to endure. So many people were asking him, now that the war was over, for interviews, that Harry made up a rule on taking interviews (really, it was Hermione's idea, but wasn't everything?)

If the reporter/interviewer/whatever in question could send him at least one interesting question that he would be asked in the interview, then he would agree to be interviewed by said reporter/interviewer/whatever in question.

There were some unique ones that he liked, and the one sent by this particular interviewer was no exception. However, it was one had to think about, and still didn't know. Harry was hoping that something would just come to him once the question had been orally asked.

This interview, though, was special. It was the first one with his new fiancé, Ginny Weasley. He knew that he would get bombarded with questions concerning their relationship that he wouldn't know how to answer properly, so he invited her along instead of the usual Ron or Hermione.

“So, Harry,” the reporter, a wizard at about thirty, began his final question. “What is the wisest thing anyone has ever said to you?”

It was naturally expected that it was something that Albus Dumbledore, or perhaps even Sirius Black told him, but that was the reporter (and Ginny, I suppose) wasn't sure.

Harry himself thought so as well, but there was only one quote that he could come up with.

“It seems like forever ago, but I remember it as if it happened just yesterday,” he began. He said it slowly, hesitantly, as if he were thinking carefully of his words, but he wasn't. They were being plucked bit-by-bit, straight from his heart. “Someone had told me that I was `a great wizard'. I remember replying that they were better, but then they said, `Books! And cleverness! There are more important things [such as] friendship and bravery'.” Harry got a fond twinkle in his eyes that neither the reporter nor Ginny had ever seen before. “And I believe, that if that person had more time, they would have added, `love' as well onto that sentence.” Harry seemed to snap out of whatever daze or memories of yesteryear he was in, because he smiled sheepishly and waited patiently for the reporter to finish up and see him and Ginny off.

But instead, Ginny voiced what the reporter was wondering, saying in a soft, respectful voice, “So was that… was that what Professor Dumbledore told you before he died?”

Harry frowned, startled. “What? Dumbledore? Before he…? No.”

“So when did he say it?” Ginny was terribly confused.

Harry shook his head. “He didn't. At all. Dumbledore didn't tell me that at all.”

“But you said…'if that person had more time'…. Who was it, then?”

Harry laughed. “Oh. No. This was back when I was eleven. We were about to be separated and that's when they told me.” He smiled again, thinking of his best friend and mentor, his guide and his confidant.

The reporter caught Harry's expression and said with a knowing gleam in his eye, “This person must be very special. First love, perhaps?” The reporter wasn't stupid—whomever Harry was talking about was someone he was clearly in love—or was in love—with.

At this, though, Ginny scowled, her expression clearly saying: I was and still am his first love, you buffoon!

Neither Harry nor the reporter noticed. But Harry said, blinking away his utter puzzlement, “What? Me in love with Hermione? Of course not!”

Ginny gaped. “Hermione told you that?”

Harry was amazed that it took her that long to figure out. Well, though I love her, she is related to Ron… “Yeah, of course, Hermione! Besides Dumbledore, she's the wisest person I know!”

Again, Ginny scowled.

The reporter said, “So you and Miss Granger have never…?”

Harry waved a hand. “No, never. By god, though, people still keep thinking that we had—or still have—something. I mean, it's been five years since the first accusation and they still keep coming!”

By that time all three had stood up and made their way to the door, Ginny oddly sullen.

Saying their goodbyes, the couple left, leaving the reporter wondering aloud, “Maybe the rumors haven't stopped because the potential of something great just… never disappeared.”

Harry just then poked his head in. “Oh, excuse me again. I left my cloak behind.”

“Oh, no problem,” the reporter said, handing him his emerald cloak.

“Good day to you then,” Harry smiled—perhaps a bit forced?—and left the reporter alone again.

Had he heard him? The reporter wondered.

Nah.

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Both Harry and Ginny were both silent as they apparated back to Ginny and Luna's flat.

Ginny felt jealous at Hermione being the wisest person Harry knew (Dumbledore didn't count as he was dead). It was silly, she knew, because what did being wise have to do with love? But really, it was as if she had been waging a silent war with Hermione since… nearly forever.

As much as Hermione had denied it, Ginny was convinced that Hermione loved Harry. But Hermione had been nothing but supportive of her relationship with Harry, so Ginny thought her fears were for naught.

However, it was as if it didn't matter if Harry and Hermione weren't romantically involved. He would still tell her everything, still talk about her often, and Hermione still knew things about Harry that Ginny didn't—and that bothered her deeply. She was Harry's future wife—she should know everything about Harry, not Hermione!

Suddenly, she remembered asking her mother, at a very young age—right after she had first seen Harry, in fact—about love. “How did you know that you wanted to marry Daddy?” She had asked.

Mrs. Weasley smiled fondly at the incoming memories. “I don't know, sweetheart. We were best friends, your father and I, before we fell in love. But I think… I think that I knew that life wouldn't be as sweet if I didn't have him beside me.” She affectionately smiled at her youngest child. “Remember, Ginny, the best marriage partners are not only lovers—they're friends.”

Had she and Harry ever been friends? Not really, not in the beginning. They'd mostly just snog and talk about quidditch.

But what about now? They'd snog and talk about quidditch, and her family, and work and… and that was it.

She didn't even have to wonder what Hermione and Harry talked about.

Ginny thought back to her first year, when she had asked Hermione in wonder, “What do you even talk about with the Boy-Who-Lived?”

Irritably, Hermione had rolled her eyes. “Oh, honestly. Harry's just a normal boy. He acts and talks like any other pre-adolescent would.”

“But what do you talk about?” It was hard for eleven-year-old Ginny to imagine that Gryffindor's bookworm talked with—let alone was best friends—with the Boy-Who-Lived.

Hermione frowned, thinking. “We… well, we talk about anything, really.”

“Anything? Everything?”

“Everything.” Hermione said. “There's nothing that Harry and I can't talk about—at least, nothing that I can't talk about and Harry can't listen to. And, believe it or not, it goes both ways. Harry can talk about quidditch all he likes, and even if I'm not interested or I've heard it before, I still listen.” Finishing off, she said, her face softening, but her eyes took on a more determined look, “We're best friends, Ginny. It may be hard to believe, considering you think he's some god and I'm well… not, but he's there for me. And I will always be there for him.”

Ginny, coming out of her memories, realized with a pang that that was love.

And then Harry said something.

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Notes: I'm a bit of a hypocrite. I say I don't hate Ginny, that she only annoys me, but I've put her as some kind of a villain in stories such as “Ordinary” and “Not Like Them”. So, I'm trying to add some insight and prove that Ginny's not bad, she's just… not for Harry.

So I'm leaving for vacation tomorrow and I don't know when I'll get part two up—but it will be before school starts, don't worry.

Tell me what you think!

WRITTEN: August 10

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The Interview Part II

“Maybe the rumors haven't stopped because the potential of something great just… never disappeared.”

Was he right?

Harry Potter couldn't help but wonder if perhaps that reporter was right.

They were halfway down the hall, walking in a decidedly uncomfortable silence when Harry suddenly remembered…

“My cloak!”

Ginny blinked and looked at him oddly. “What?”

“I left my cloak back in his office,” Harry clarified. “I'll be right back, Gin.”

She nodded. “I'll wait.”

Harry briskly walked back and noticed the door was slightly ajar.

“…Maybe the rumors haven't stopped because the potential of something great just… never disappeared.”

Although his brain seemed to stop working just then, mechanically Harry just then poked his head in. “Oh, excuse me again. I left my cloak behind.”

“Oh, no problem,” the reporter said, handing him his emerald cloak.

“Good day to you then,” Harry smiled—perhaps a bit forced?—and left the reporter alone again.

Oh. Hell.

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Silence ensued as the pair made their way back to Ginny and Luna's flat.

Thoughts ran though Harry's mind.

Somehow, Harry knew the reporter was talking about him and Hermione. It was an inference on Harry's part—but what else could the reporter have been talking about?

But there were bigger questions on Harry's mind. Like…

What would've happened if he and Hermione had gotten together?

He would've gotten nagged a lot… probably would've gone to a lot less quidditch games… and yet… Harry knew he would've been taken care of. Loved. Hermione already proved that she would walk to hell for him, and Harry knew she'd do it again if she had to. And the same for him. He and Hermione probably would've a lot more movies, laughing at what parts would have Ron confused. He'd probably spend a lot more comfortable nights at home instead of partying—Gin liked to dance and party, where Harry normally felt quite awkward. Harry remembered numerous times at a wizarding club where he wished Hermione was there—she too disliked that sort of atmosphere, and the two could've been comforting to the other.

Of course—if he and Hermione had ever gotten together.

And right now, as he looked sideways at Ginny, who likewise seemed to be deep in thought—love didn't course through his veins.

Regret did.

Perhaps regret is too strong a word—Ginny probably would've been the perfect partner for Harry if he was a normal boy, not “The Chosen One” or “The Boy Who Lived”. If he had been an ordinary wizard (an oxymoron in itself) and Voldemort had never existed.

But he wasn't—and while he craved normality, his hero complex never died, and the person who could help him and understand him the best was Hermione.

But—but hell! He was engaged! Now what was a bloke to do?

Glancing over at Ginny again, he noticed that she seemed to be having a revelation of sorts. Her concentration was almost frightening and Harry couldn't help but ask, “You okay, Gin?”

0 0 0

She seemed to snap out of whatever reverie she was in and attempted a smile. “I'm…” Ginny sighed, unable to put up a strong front. She was never as good at that as Harry and Hermione were. “Harry… we should talk.”

0 0 0

They were at Ginny's flat now—an empty flat, for Luna was somewhere with Ron.

Still seemingly uncomfortable, the two settled down on the worn couch that they had spent many a night on.

“What did you want to talk about, Gin?” Harry questioned softly.

“I think we should end this,” she replied bluntly, yet just as quietly.

Harry blinked. He certainly wasn't expecting that. “What… what brought this on?”

“That interview,” Ginny began slowly, “made me realize… we aren't meant to be, Harry. I remembered, suddenly, of someone much better suited for you, whether she realizes it or not… It's… god, Harry, it's complicated. I realized that I could never really mean as much to you as she does. And—I'm not even talking romantically here! She's… she's yours, Harry. Your other half. Honest to goodness, she is. And your hers. We've—we've both been blind, I think, not to see it. But… it's not fair to you, or to me, to get married with this huge `what if' in our closets. I don't want you or me to look back on this when we're 40 and regret it.

“I will never regret the time I spent with you, Harry. Because it's helped me realize what love really is. Where two people know each other but may not always understand them… and yet, they love them anyway. We know each other Harry, but we could never know each other as well as you two… you and she… know each other. So I think we owe it to ourselves to end it, Harry. To our futures.”

She expected him to completely understand her, she really did. Yet…

“Who are you talking about, Gin?”

… Perhaps this was why they were never that well suited.

But Ginny merely smiled at his daftness and said softly, “Hermione, Harry. Who else?”

And really… who else would it be?

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Harry blinked. “What do I do now?” He asked his ex-fiance.

Ginny laughed. “Harry,” she said, “I think that Hermione would take you if you showed up at her door in a paper sack.”

Harry flushed, then stood up. “Thank you, Gin,” he said honestly. “And…. I hope… you find someone for you, too. You know, your other half.”

Remembering a short, yet sweet affair she had before she reunited with Harry, Ginny smiled. “I hope he'll let me find him.”

0 0 0

Harry wasn't sure what to do next. Yes, he definitely wanted to pursue a relationship with Hermione, who was, thankfully, single. But… did she feel the same way?

He wouldn't rush into romantics—not yet, not without some evidence (evidence—Hermione really did influence him—) that she was infatuated with him as well.

Throwing his jacket over the couch as he arrived home, Harry thrust some powder into the fire. “Hermione Granger's house!” He yelled. Sticking his head within the flames, he waited patiently.

Tap, tap, tap. He could hear her feet pad across her floor to greet him.

“Harry?” The voice he knew so well called out.

The smile was evident in his warm tones. “Hey, Hermione. Fancy a chat?”

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End

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Notes: You probably hate me, and I get that. Not only was I supposed to update this a month ago, but the ending isn't all that satisfactory, is it? Truth be told, I was never good at writing confrontations between Harry and Hermione, so I will give that job to your imagination. However, if someone is interested in writing a companion to this featuring the conversation, drop me a line.

I have another one-shot in my head but don't plan on it being up. I have one story on fictionpress and two on fanfiction that need finishing up. Then I'll return to Walls of My Life: Like Shattering Glass.

Until then,

Ciao!

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