THREE
That night Hermione's insomnia was worse than ever. She hadn't been able to sleep not even for an hour. She kept turning and turning trying to find a comfortable spot on the bed, but it was no use.
Feeling frustrated, she sat up and looked at the clock. It was barely 2:30. Hermione groaned wishing she could make time fly. She looked at the bed next to hers. Ginny was sleeping there. Trying to make as little noise as possible, Hermione got out of bed, threw her night robe on top of her pajamas - cotton pants and a tiny tank top - and left the room.
She went into the kitchen and towards the sink to drink some water. She stood there for a few minutes after she placed the glass down, looking out the window into the night. Unconsciously, Hermione headed to the backyard. The moon was pulling her out. The long table and the chairs from dinner were still there.
Not caring about being barefoot, she walked out into the grass. Taking a deep breath, Hermione inhaled the smell of the night. The light breeze played with her hair, which was down, making her feel relaxed and calmed.
She looked up at the sky. Since the Burrow was located away from any big cities, the starts could easily be seen. It was a gorgeous end-of-August night. The full moon bathed the ground with its shiny glow.
She closed her eyes. "If I'm going to be awake," she thought. "Better spend it out here."
"Aren't you supposed to be in bed?"
Hermione jumped as she heard a voice behind her. She had been so distracted, she didn't notice someone had been staring at her for a while. She turned to see Harry standing just a few steps away from her.
He was still wearing the same black pants he had on at dinner, but he had replaced the blue shirt from earlier with a simple white-cotton tee. His hair was all messy, not unusual in him. The broomstick in his hand, however, indicated he had been flying.
Remembering she only had her pajamas under her night robe, she pulled it close and crossed her arms over her chest. Harry smiled at that.
"I could tell you the same thing," she finally said after a few awkward silent minutes. "But I see what you've been up to."
Harry looked at the broomstick and smiled. "Yeah!. That's why I love coming here. I can fly freely."
"Don't you do it every day? Fly, that is." She looked at his hair, noticing it still looked so darn cute when it was all messy like that. A half smile appeared on her face at the thought.
"Well, yeah I do, but it's not the same, you know?" As he was saying that, he took a couple of steps closer to her. "When you have to catch a sneaky snitch while trying not to get killed by a couple of bludgers, you don't get to enjoy flying that much."
He looked at her with a wide smile in his face. That was the Harry she remembered, with that playful smile and talking to her in that friendly, relaxed way.
"In a place like this," he said pointing to the Weasley's pitch. "I really get to enjoy that wonderful feeling you can only experience when flying."
"I'll take your word for it," said Hermione nodding her head. Flying had never been her thing.
Harry smiled and looked at her for a while. Then, he grabbed her by the elbow and started pulling her towards the pitch. "Come. I'll show you."
Fear quickly appeared on her face. She tried to get her arm free of Harry's grip, but he wasn't letting go.
"No! Please Harry. You know I hate flying."
"That's 'cause you've never been able to appreciate it," he said as he kept on pulling her forward.
Before she knew it, they had left the house behind and were now in the pitch. Harry let go of her and mounted the broomstick. Hermione was just thinking about making a run for her life when Harry grabbed her by the waist and with a quick movement raised her up and placed her on the broom in front of him.
Hermione gasped and grabbed hold of the handle for dear life. Harry, amused by her reaction, looked at her hands. He noticed how small they looked in comparison with his. Shaking his head to clear his mind of any thoughts and focus on flying, he analyzed her grip on the handle.
"One of the things you need to do first," he said sounding like a professional instructor. "…is look at your grip. If you place your hands like this…" he rearranged her hands, "…you'll have better control of the broomstick and it'll help you with your balance, too."
They were very close to each other. Harry was talking to her from her right shoulder. She could feel his warm breath tickling her neck. His aftershave, now mixed with the clean smell of the night, invaded her senses.
"You sound just like an expert," she said turning to meet his eyes, but she soon regretted it. Their faces were so close, their noses almost touched. She looked into his green eyes and felt her face turning red under his strong gaze. She quickly turned away, not wanting to guess what it was she was seeing in his eyes.
"Hold on," he said. Then, with a movement of his skilled hands, they slowly left the ground. Instinctively, Hermione tightened her grip on the handle and tensed her body. Not wanting to scare the daylights out of her, Harry was flying at a slow pace and at a reasonable height.
Still, he could feel her tensed body . Trying to help her feel more confident, he took one hand off the handle and placed it around her waist, bringing her closer to him. The wind made her hair fly hitting Harry's face, but he didn't mind. He loved to see her hair down. She had it tied in a ponytail all afternoon and in a bun in the evening.
Harry closed his eyes enjoying how soft and warm her body felt against his chest. Trying to take in as much of her scent as possible, he leaned forward, as close to her as he could.
"Are you sure you want to do that?" asked Hermione with a shaky voice.
Harry pulled his face away, wondering what exactly she was talking about. Since he didn't respond, Hermione motioned her head towards his one-hand grip on the handle.
"Oh," he said. "Hermione… I've flown with no hands at all. Don't you remember?" he said, resuming his closer-to-her position and talking in her ear. "Second year, one arm broken, the other trying to grab the snitch?"
Hermione was shaking, but it had nothing to do with feeling cold. It wasn't even cold at all. It had to do with the soft voice talking in her ear, the warm breath on her neck, the firm body next to her, sending a wave of sensations all through her body.
"I do remember that," she managed to say. "But I also remember you falling to the ground." Even when she was complaining about it, having Harry's hand around her waist did make her feel safer.
As they continued flying, she began to relax. Trying to ignore the feelings that woke up inside her thanks to Harry's presence, she tried to concentrate in the scenery instead. From up there, everything looked better. The moonlight gave the trees, the houses, and the roads underneath a ghostly look.
Even to her surprise, she was in fact enjoying the ride, the gentle breeze hitting her face, the wonderful view, and of course, the company.
"I missed you, Hermione," he suddenly said. His voice sounded desperate, anxious.
She didn't know what to say. "You missed me?" she thought. "And whose fault is it? Who pushed who away?" Again, her body tensed, but this time out of anger.
"Can you take me back now?" she asked in a cold voice after a couple of silent minutes.
Harry let out a sigh and without responding turned the broomstick around and headed back to the Burrow. He took her all the way to the back porch. Slowly, their feet hit the ground. As quickly as she could, Hermione got off the broom and after saying a cold good-night to Harry, she went inside the house.
--- * --- * --- * ---
Harry saw her retrieving figure disappeared into the house, her night robe billowing behind her. He sighed resignedly, running a hand through his hair.
"I shouldn't have said anything," he thought.
But he couldn't help it. He had missed her a lot. Knowing he'd be seeing her at the wedding, he had waited anxiously for this day to come.
He regretted deeply the way he had reacted that night at St. Mungo's. Leaving her like that without saying what was going through his mind had not been the wisest thing to do, but there was no going back.
At that moment, he had felt it was the best thing to do. He had lost all the people he had ever loved. The previous days had left him with the feeling that his life would never change. That it'd always be clouded by his bad luck.
He didn't want to drag anyone whit him, especially Hermione, through a life of despair. For months after the last battle, a repetitive nightmare kept hunting his dreams. He could clearly see a bright beam of green light hitting Hermione across the chest. He could hear her scream and then see her lifeless body fall to the ground. The dream felt so real, he'd always wake up shaking and sweating.
It took him a long time to gradually make peace with himself and accept that his luck was not better, nor worse, than anybody else's. He finally accepted the fact that he did have a future ahead of him and that it could be as bright and as promising as any other regular guy's.
By that time, Hermione was already out of his life. It was then when he realized how wrong he had been. Pushing her away from him had only sunk him deeper in his depression. She would've been a reason for him to keep going.
Harry knew he loved her, he wanted her by his side, but there was something stopping him. Hermione was involved with another guy. Knowing about the closeness between Ginny and Hermione, whenever possible, Harry had tried to get information out of Ginny.
Reluctantly, she told him Hermione was dating another wizard, but Ginny never mentioned the tiny detail of them being engaged. When Harry heard the news earlier that day, he felt as if someone had thrown a bucket of cold water right to his face.
"Now what?" he asked himself. "Now what?"
--- * --- * --- * ---
The ceremony was to take place at 4 p.m. After some handy spells, the backyard was left unrecognizable. A big white canopy had been set, giving the place a mellow feeling. White and soft pink flowers had been carefully positioned in strategically chosen places.
White chairs lined in several rows waited for the guests' arrival. A carpet made out of white-rose petals led the way from the end of the rows to the front where the couple was to be wed.
All the Weasleys were nicely dressed, according to the occasion. Ginny was Luna's maid of honor. Harry was Ron's best man. Besides them, three more couples were accompanying the bride and groom: Fred and Angelina, George and Alicia, and Hermione and Neville.
The guests started to arrive an hour before the ceremony began. Luna, who seemed to have lost everything at the last minute, asked Hermione to look around the house for her bouquet. Luna was sure she had placed it in her room and Molly, who was also getting kind of anxious, assured it had been in hers.
Finally, Hermione found it in the living room on a top shelf. It had been placed there to keep it out of the kids' reach. She was just heading back to the stairs, when she heard George calling her name.
"Hermione… there you are," he said entering the living room. Arthur, Harry and Charlie were sitting on the couches talking about quidditch, of course, waiting for the ceremony to begin.
"Someone's here looking for you," announced George.
"Oh!" Hermione had forgotten Eric would be arriving soon. "Right." She looked at the men sitting down, took Eric's hand and walked up to them.
"Let me introduce you."
The men on the couches stood up to meet the newcomer.
"These are the Weasleys: George, Charlie and their father Arthur, and this is our friend Harry Potter. Everybody this is Eric Morgan… my fiancé," she added quickly.
Each one took a turn extending their hand out and shaking Eric's, mouthing the usual nice-to-meet-you-pleasure's-mine remarks.
"It's great to finally meet you, Hermione talks a lot about all of you." Then turning to Harry, Eric added, "Of course there's no need for her to tell me who you are. Who doesn't know you, right?"
Harry nodded and gave him a fake smile.
"Must be nice having your picture on the Prophet once a week," said Eric throwing an arm over Hermione's shoulders, pulling her closer to him.
Harry didn't respond.
"Both Harry and Hermione are like two more members of the family," said Arthur, looking warmly at the two of them. "They're like two more of our children to Molly and me. We've been together through thick and thin."
"So I've heard," added Eric smiling at the men, and then placing a kiss on Hermione's cheek.
Hermione was purposely avoiding Harry's gaze, which she felt burning her skin.
"Let's go find you a place to see the ceremony," said Hermione, trying to get away.
"That's right," replied Eric following her out into the backyard. "You have some thing to do, uh?"
Half and hour later, the ceremony began. Luna, preceded by her bridesmaids and their escorts, walked down the isle at her father's side. It was a short and emotional ritual where the bride and groom said their own bows.
After that, the guests enjoyed the delicious food - against Molly's wishes, a professional cater had been hired for the reception - and the wonderful music of a live band. Everyone seemed to be having a good time dancing and laughing, everyone but Harry.
All he did was stare at Hermione and her fiancé, while they were eating, while they were dancing. Harry tried to dissimulate keeping company with his fellow quidditch players. Still, Eric, of course, noticed it.
"Can I ask you something, Hermione?" said Eric while they were dancing. "Did you and Harry ever… you know, had something to do?"
Hermione passed a hand through her forehead. "No. We didn't."
Not quite convinced, Eric looked at Harry, whose green eyes were fixed on her. "Then, why does he look at you like that?"
Hermione looked at Harry. She knew he had been following her with his eyes, but had tried her best not to let that affect her. "I don't know, Eric." She responded honestly.
Harry put down the drink he had been holding in his hand. He wished he could go and take Hermione out of Eric's arms. Just then, Ron joined the group and stood next to him.
"Having a good time, mate?" But as Harry turned to look at him, Ron was able to see the expression of his face. "I reckon you're not."
Harry passed a hand through his hair and sighed. "It's all my fault."
"What's your fault?" asked Ron. He then followed Harry's gaze to the couple on the dance floor. "Oh! I see." Ron looked intently at his friend. "Well, seems to me you have two options… you can either stand here, staring at her all night, or you can do something about it."
Harry looked questioningly at him. Ron smiled mischievously and said. "I got an idea."