Disclaimer: See Prologue.
Author's Note: I hope you're all enjoying GoF weekend! This chapter and the next chapter might be a little confusing because there are two Harry's- the real one and the one in the vision. I tried to distinguish between them as much as I could to make it clear and I hope I succeeded.
Second Chances
Chapter 2: What Could Have Been
Of all sad words of tongue or pen,
The saddest are these: It might have been…
~John Greenleaf Whittier, "Maud Muller"
~*~
Harry opened his eyes to find himself and Sirius in a familiar place, a place he hadn't been in since one fateful evening seven years ago: the sitting room of Hermione's flat.
"Oh, good, it worked. I guess the Powers decided to allow this interference after all," Sirius muttered, more to himself than to Harry-and Harry, glancing at Sirius saw that Sirius glanced upwards with a slight smile, as if to thank someone.
And then he heard sounds from Hermione's bedroom, unmistakable sounds that made him color and then sizzle a glare at Sirius. "You brought me here when Hermione's shagging someone?" He had to force himself to keep his voice quiet.
Sirius didn't respond to his glare, only said casually, "Oh, shout if you want to; we can't be either seen or heard by the people we'll be watching in this alternate world."
Harry continued to glare at his godfather. "I want to leave. If this is an example of what you want to show me, I'll pass."
An odd little smile crossed Sirius's face. "I think you'll change your mind about that. Just go inside her room in another minute or so." He paused and then answered Harry's unspoken objection. "You can walk through walls in this alternate world since you don't actually belong here, so you won't have to open the door."
There was a last cry from inside Hermione's bedroom and then silence as Harry avoided looking at his godfather and tried to ignore the funny feeling inside him- rather like he was going to be sick- at the thought of Hermione in bed with someone- with anyone…
Sirius nodded at him as if to tell him he could go through and with a last distrustful glance, Harry swallowed hard and forced himself to walk forward to the wall between the sitting room and her bedroom, half-expecting, despite Sirius's assurance, that he was going to walk into it but he passed through it much as he passed through the barrier of Platform 9 and ¾ at Kings Cross.
It was dim inside her room and at first he deliberately focused on the opposite wall and the picture he could see on it, one of himself, Ron and Hermione. They were all smiling and in it, Hermione had put her arm around each of them. He felt a pang of something like homesickness and for the first time in a long time, allowed himself to dwell on the memory of Ron and Hermione and miss them.
He blinked and then finally, slowly, turned to look at the bed and the two figures in it and then stiffened in shock as he saw-himself.
He had a sudden memory of 3rd year and having to watch himself, Ron and Hermione when he and Hermione had gone back in time using her Time Turner-and again, he was in a position to watch himself- or another incarnation of himself or something.
He felt his brain rebelling at the incredible weirdness of seeing himself-seeing himself and Hermione in bed together.
His other self was lying half-propped up against the pillows with his arm around Hermione who was leaning against his chest, half on her side. One of his hands was idly playing with Hermione's hair as he brushed his lips against her forehead.
Something about the sheer- tenderness- of the gesture brought a lump to Harry's throat as he watched, staring in helpless, half-reluctant fascination at a scene, an image, he would never have dreamed of seeing or experiencing.
A sheet was mostly covering both his other self and Hermione but he could still see the top curves of Hermione's breasts, still make out the line of her figure through the thin sheet and his eyes wandered of their own volition down her body. He could see the slim litheness of her body, the curve of her hips and the length of her legs-good God, she was- she was beautiful… Harry swallowed hard and the thought darted into his mind: this is what I've been missing…
His other self was the first one to break the comfortable silence, his voice quiet, as he asked, "Did you mean what you said earlier?"
Harry frowned slightly-what had she said earlier? When was this supposed to be?
Hermione moved her head to look up at him. "Yes," she answered simply and then sighed softly. "Yes," she repeated. "I'm in love with you."
Harry, watching, stiffened as those five words seemed to crash into his consciousness and he was suddenly transported back to that evening seven years ago when she'd first said those words to him and he'd denied it, rejected her… And realized this must be what would have happened if he'd given in to his mad impulse and kissed her again that night-if he hadn't happened to remember seeing Ron so miserable-if he hadn't been too afraid to believe that she might be telling the truth, too afraid to acknowledge that he just might love her too…
His other, braver self-Harry thought with the first little twist of regret-responded with another kiss, his hand moving to weave his fingers with hers as it rested on his chest. And then he said quietly, "I- I think I'm in love with you too."
I think I'm in love with you too…
Had he really been in love with Hermione seven years ago? Could they have really worked if he'd been braver, if he hadn't run away as he had?
Then again, given that he was here, now, watching what might have happened, he supposed he knew the answer to that second question.
And somehow, looking at the expressions on his face and hers-had he always had that look in his eyes when he looked at her?-Harry found he couldn't breathe, couldn't move, could hardly think except for the one thought that seemed to burn his mind: he had been in love with Hermione…
But even then, he couldn't think that he'd been wrong. How could he have just taken his own happiness at the expense of Ron's?
As if on cue, the other Harry sighed. "What will we tell Ron?" he asked, his voice subdued, a flash of guilt crossing his face.
Hermione sighed as well. "I- I don't know. I didn't-I couldn't-tell him I'd realized how I really felt about you-and I didn't want it to sound like that was why we were breaking up when it wasn't. It was-it was just something I'd been thinking about and putting off because I didn't want to hurt Ron and I kept hoping something would change and things would get better but they didn't and I finally decided I couldn't do it anymore. It wasn't fair to either of us."
"When-" he hesitated and then continued on, almost as if the question asked itself against his own better judgment, "when did you realize? How did you realize?" What remained unspoken was the question, how do you know this is real?
A sad smile curved Hermione's lips. "It was a few weeks ago, the last argument Ron and I had before- well, before what happened four days ago-another one of our arguments about my working too many hours and not spending enough time with him-do you remember how I told you about it?"
"Yes." Harry realized, too late, that he'd inadvertently blurted out the word but neither his other self or Hermione heard, as Sirius had said they wouldn't.
"I remember," his other self answered.
"I know you must have hated it because you always hated feeling like you were caught in the middle of Ron and my fights so I never went to you after most of them but somehow, this last one just seemed to bother me more and I just had to talk to someone and you were the only person. Ginny's a good friend but she's Ron's sister and so it's too awkward. And you're my best friend. I'm sorry, by the way, if I made you feel like you were caught in the middle that night."
An uncomfortable expression crossed his face and Harry knew he didn't want to say that it had but wasn't going to lie either. His other self finally settled on saying, "It's okay."
Hermione's hand tightened on his as she continued. "Do you remember how you just listened to me talk and let me let out my anger? That was what I really needed; you didn't take Ron's side or my side or anything; you just let me talk. And then at the end, when you hugged me and kissed my cheek-I don't know if you remember-but I- I felt something then. I- I wanted to kiss you, I realized, and the thought scared me-and that was why I left your flat in such a hurry."
A smile quirked his lips. "I didn't realize the thought of kissing me was so terrifying."
She laughed and kissed him deliberately. "You know what I mean and why it was scary then." She sobered. "I spent a lot of time thinking about that, why I'd felt that way, what it meant… and finally realized that I didn't just love you as a friend, that, somehow, I was in love with you-and not with Ron as I'd always sort of assumed I was." A half laugh escaped her lips. "It sounds so silly but I had rather assumed that I must be in love with Ron; he was my boyfriend, no matter how much we argued, and we'd just been together for so long. But the more I thought about it, I realized that I loved Ron as my best friend; I was in love with you."
Harry felt his throat get tight as he listened to Hermione's words and thought about the Hermione he knew. She would never have said those words to him if she hadn't been sure, if she hadn't thought about it long and hard before-hand; he knew her analytical mind and how she usually tended to think about things too much. And in something like this, something so important, of course she would think about it before she said anything, especially in a situation like this, when it would be too easy to sound like purely a rebound thing.
He should have known better, should have thought about it more-and his only defense was that he'd been too much in shock to think very clearly about anything and had taken the easy way out.
But look at what he'd missed…
His braver (and smarter, apparently) self sighed. "I wish this wouldn't hurt Ron as much as it will."
"I know," Hermione said quietly and her own guilt was audible in her voice. "But what can we do? We can't help what's happened or how we feel…"
He sighed again. "Sometimes I wish we were 11 again and didn't have to worry about all these feelings, romance, or jealousy."
"Are you-" Hermione hesitated and then finished, "are you sorry?"
He met her eyes. "Not about us. Just sorry that this is going to hurt Ron, but no, I'm not sorry about this."
He tightened his arm around her and kissed her-and Harry averted his gaze, feeling uncomfortable-and suddenly aware again of the oddness of his situation in being able to watch himself kiss Hermione…
He turned, passing through the wall again into the living room to see Sirius waiting for him.
"Well?" was all Sirius said.
Harry couldn't bring himself to say what he'd realized, what he'd seen-but he did need to know one thing. "What about Ron? How did Ron take it?"
Sirius's answer wasn't in words; he gripped Harry's arm again and gave another wave of his free hand.
Hermione's flat faded around them and Harry blinked, to find himself in a restaurant that he recognized as being the Camelot Café, a wizarding restaurant just off of Diagon Alley.
Looking around, he could see himself and Hermione at a nearby table, although he wasn't close enough to hear what they were saying.
She was smiling-and he couldn't help but notice that she had gotten dressed up, her hair partly pulled back to leave a few curls brushing her neck and he could only wonder at his own self-restraint in not kissing her neck where the curls touched her skin.
As he watched, though, his other self reached over and took her hand, saying something that made Hermione laugh and then blush.
He felt Sirius touch his arm and glanced at him as Sirius said, "Look," and gestured with his head towards the entrance to the restaurant, and tensed automatically.
Ron was standing there-with another man whom Harry didn't know but whom he assumed to be a coach for one of the Quidditch teams-- his eyes riveted on his two best friends, obviously sharing a romantic dinner. He was pale and Harry could see a muscle working in his cheek as he swallowed.
Ron was clearly reluctantly fascinated at this sight of Harry and Hermione, together and very obviously happy-and then he seemed to remember himself and turned to his companion, saying something which Harry couldn't hear but could guess was some sort of manufactured excuse for why they should go to another restaurant instead of eating there.
And with a last backward glance at Harry and Hermione- who hadn't seen him- Ron left the restaurant.
Harry sighed, feeling more confident that maybe, he hadn't made the wrong decision to leave five years ago. He would have hated to hurt Ron, would have hated not being friends with Ron-and he could clearly see just in this moment, that what had happened between his other self and Hermione, however they had told Ron about it, had made the old friendship impossible.
He had been right to leave-it was what he'd done for his best friend's sake, because he cared more about preserving his friendship with both Ron and Hermione as it had been than anything else…
But even as he thought this, he felt Sirius grip his arm again and they'd been transported to another place, another flat-and he recognized with a shock, his old flat which he'd been living in before he'd moved to Boston.
But it was different-somehow. There were new things he didn't recognize; it looked neater than he had usually kept it…
His other self was sitting on the couch, idly skimming the Daily Prophet and glancing at the clock frequently and frowning slightly.
Looking at it, Harry saw that it was past nine in the evening and had just begun to wonder who or what his other self was waiting for when the door opened and Hermione walked in, hanging up her cloak with a sigh.
His other self stood up hurriedly and walked over. "Hi," he greeted her with a kiss. "You're late."
Hermione slid her arms around his waist, closing her eyes for a moment as she leaned against him and then opened her eyes, answering, "I know. I'm sorry. Just as I was getting ready to leave, an emergency patient arrived with a severe case of accidental poisoning from an improperly brewed potion and it took us a while to figure out what had gone wrong with the potion."
Harry saw himself nod. "I thought it was something like that-but I couldn't keep from worrying a little anyway. There's food waiting for you in the kitchen."
Hermione smiled a little wearily. "Oh bless you."
They turned to walk into the kitchen and Harry noticed for the first time the glint of a diamond ring on Hermione's left hand and stiffened.
Oh my God, he and Hermione were married! Or engaged! No wonder the flat looked neater than he had usually kept it; it was because Hermione lived here too now…
He didn't know why but somehow the thought that, if he had just answered her differently that one night, he and Hermione would be married now, suddenly filled him with more regret than he'd yet felt. They could have been married by now…
Hermione settled herself on the couch with her dinner, leaning back against his other self, and even Harry, watching, could see how comfortable they were together. Comfortable, at peace-and he could recognize in himself the subtle relaxing of his shoulders and his air now that Hermione was home. The hint of waiting, of nervousness, of worry, that had been bothering him earlier was gone now and he was simply relaxed. It was the kind of peace Harry himself never really knew, the kind of peace that came from not wanting or needing anything else to be happy for one particular moment in time-and he knew a moment of fierce envy for his other self.
His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a knock on the door at which both his other self and Hermione jumped.
He got up to open the door after glancing at the wards to make sure they indicated whoever was outside was a friend-and then stopped.
Harry moved to see who had come calling and understood why his other self was standing there in shock.
It was Ron.
"Can I- er- come in?" Ron asked and the sound of his voice seemed to jolt Harry into action.
He moved to let Ron come in and opened his mouth but Hermione spoke before he could.
"Ron! Oh it's so good to see you!" she cried and in another second, she was hugging him leaving Ron to smile tentatively and return her hug.
Hermione finally let go and stepped back to smile at him, rather tearily, as she slipped her hand into Harry's.
Ron's gaze lowered to their joined hands and Hermione flushed, seeming to recollect herself and let go of Harry's hand, as an awkward silence ensued.
Ron was the first one to speak. "I- er- I heard you two were engaged."
"Yes," Harry nodded rather hesitantly and then rushed to continue. "We were going to tell you but we weren't sure how or if you'd want to know or hear from us so we were-waiting…"
A half-smile crossed Ron's face. "You should have told me; it was hearing about it that made me realize just what a pig-headed prat I've been."
"Oh, Ron, no," Hermione said softly. "You're not- you haven't been a prat."
Ron shrugged, looking up from where he'd been determinedly studying the floor to meet Harry's and Hermione's gaze. "No, I have been. It just took me until now to realize that I was letting my- my sense of hurt pride get in the way of thinking rationally about it. I- I know I said some things when you told me, things I didn't really mean. I just--" he lifted his shoulders slightly in a gesture of helpless regret and self-deprecation. "I just want you to be happy-both of you. You're my best friends and- and I know you didn't mean to hurt me and you didn't go behind my back. I want you to be happy," he repeated. "I'm glad you two are happy together."
Ron managed a little smile. "And I'm sor--"
"No, it's ok. It doesn't matter," Harry interrupted him and moving forward, hugged Ron in one of their rare hugs, a hug which Ron returned.
Harry stepped back a little, letting Hermione join the circle and they stood for a moment in an awkward, 3-way hug, letting silence heal the wounds of the past months.
Then they were smiling and then grinning and then laughing together-at what, they didn't quite know, unless it was just from sheer happiness at being able to laugh together, as a trio, again.
And Harry, watching, had to turn away from Sirius's too-penetrating gaze in an attempt to deny his suddenly tight throat and pricking eyes at this evidence that he really had been wrong. About Hermione's feelings, about Ron, about-everything…
To be continued…