A/N: It all belongs to JKR…as it should.
I know I've been posting quite a lot here, lately…but I think I'm on the verge of slowing down. This is a 4-part story and I have 2 parts of Discovery I'm considering. After that, I think I'll give you all a break! LOL
Thanks so much for reading and for those of you who post a review…you rock! Thanks!
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Conversations: Hermione and Harry
"I heard about these dresses that-" Hermione was tired as she once again tuned out the voice of Molly Weasley. She'd been following her mum and Mrs. Weasley from store to store for far too many hours in search of the perfect dress for her upcoming wedding to Ron, and her patience had finally worn thin.
Hermione sat down on a lone chair, thinking about how much she'd like to be somewhere…anywhere, else. Periodically she would nod her head and grunt in a vague attempt to appear as though she was listening. At one point she tuned in long enough to find her mum looking back at her with an anxious stare. "No, I don't…I don't think so," her mum muttered in reply to whatever it was Molly had last suggested.
Hermione rolled her eyes and took a deep breath of discontent before once again getting lost in her thoughts.
"What do you think, dear?"
Hermione sat in silence, thinking about nothing and everything all at once and hadn't realized that Mrs. Weasley was speaking to her.
"Hermione," Mrs. Weasley said as she placed her hand on Hermione's shoulder.
Hermione jerked her head up at the contact and looked at the woman in surprise. "s'cuse me?"
"I asked you what you think, dear," Mrs. Weasley repeated. She studied Hermione with narrowed eyes. "Are you all right? You look a little peaked."
Hermione dropped her head and rolled her eyes for the umpteenth time in the past hour. "I'm a little something…" she mumbled under her breath. She put on a false smile and looked up first at Mrs. Weasley and then at her mum, "Sorry, I must have missed that. What do I think of what?"
"Honestly, Hermione," her mum chastised, "there're only three days left before your wedding and your dress is the last thing you need. I would think the very least you could do is pay attention to-"
Hermione put her hand in the air and stood up abruptly, causing both her mum and Mrs. Weasley to step back. "I don't want to hear it," she snapped. "The two of you have made every last arrangement for this wedding. You decided on the flowers, the location, the invitations, the cake, Ron's dress robes, Harry's dress robes, Ginny's dress, the bridesmaid's dresses," she gasped as she pulled air into her lungs before continuing. "I've obediently followed the two of you from store to store so you could dress me up like a play toy and ooh and awe and then decide," she put her fingers in the air to quote them, "this ones not right, this one won't match Ron's robes, this one is cut too low, this one is too long…" she stopped and looked at them both incredulously. "First of all, how can a white wedding dress not match Ron's robes? Second, what difference does it make if it's too long, too short, low cut…or any other excuse you've managed to find? I believe we have ways of fixing those things," she looked pointedly at Mrs. Weasley and added, "Do we not?
A wide-eyed Mrs. Weasley nodded and stammered, "Yes, I…I suppose we do."
"Hermione, sweetheart, I didn't realize you-"
Hermione cut a silencing glare to her mum. "And third, at this point, I could care less what I wear. I'll wear my bloody bra and knickers if it means NOT HAVING TO LISTEN TO THE TWO OF YOU TALK TO AND ABOUT ME LIKE A CHILD!" She yelled, looking from one shocked face to the other. She wanted to care that their feelings were obviously hurt, but at that moment, she couldn't. She sighed and lowered her head. "Now, will one of you please just tell me what it was Molly wanted my opinion on?"
"Now, Hermione," her mum began, "there's no need to get so upset. "We're only trying to-" she stopped abruptly when she saw her daughter close her eyes and take a deep breath.
Hermione counted to ten as she slowly breathed in and out before speaking. "Mum, please," she said tightly. "I'm tired, I'm ready to go. Can you please just tell me what it is before I walk out the door and decide not to return?"
Mrs. Weasley cleared her throat. "Well, dear," she began hesitantly, "I was, um, I was just telling your mum that I heard about wedding dresses with little jewels in them that are attuned to er, well, to your mood, dear. They're like a silvery-gray when you're nervous, and they turn to pink when you're excited… you know, that sort of thing."
Mrs. Granger looked from Mrs. Weasley to Hermione. "And I was just saying that it didn't sound like something you'd like." She looked at Mrs. Weasley as an idea struck her. "What happens if Ron makes her angry?" She held out her hand as though she was pointing out the obvious. "You know how well he can do that."
Mrs. Weasley nodded her head. "That's true, yes. Well, either everyone will be looking at a bride getting married in red, or," she looked down at Hermione with a twinkle in her eye, "we'll have to tell Ron to keep his trap shut until it's time to say I do."
Hermione sat down heavily then dropped her head into her hands and shook her head as she began to laugh. After a moment she sighed heavily and sat up letting her head hit the wall behind her. "I'm too tired for this. I just…I can't take it anymore. I'm sorry," she sighed. "You just…" she waved her hand at them, "you do whatever you want. Pick what you want. Just…" she pushed open the door, "I don't care…whatever," she said, just before the door closed behind her.
She stepped out into the fresh afternoon air and for the first time in the past three months she felt at ease. Too much time of late had been spent being pushed here and directed there as her mum and Mrs. Weasley orchestrated the `perfect wedding'. Hermione groaned and shook the thoughts from her head before they had a chance to overwhelm her and for the next several hours she mindlessly walked the London streets in blessed silence.
When the sun began to set and the day turned to dusk Hermione decided that the time had come to go home. With great reluctance she looked for a place from which she could apparate and shortly thereafter she was standing before her dresser, kicking off her shoes. She'd intended to take just a cursory glance at her reflection in the mirror but what she saw made her gasp. Her eyes appeared to droop at the corners and the circles under them were as dark as they'd been when the fight against Voldemort had been at its worst…she was not looking at the face of happy woman on the brink of marriage. She looked tired and defeated…exactly the way she felt.
Hermione turned away from the mirror and gasped the moment she saw the wedding dress that lay across the middle of her bed. Tears burned in her eyes and she felt powerless to stop them as the hot streaks begin to course down her cheeks. She raggedly inhaled a breath and wiped vainly at the steady stream of tears that had been building for far too long.
She slumped onto the bed beside the dress and carefully ran her fingers over the silky material before picking up the note that lay atop it…
Hermione,
You said to do what we wanted, and for once we listened. We bought you the simplest of dresses because, as you so clearly reminded us, you can change it to what you want through the use of `other means'.
I'm sorry for taking away your opportunity to make decisions for your wedding. I was so excited when you told us that you were getting married, that I jumped right in to orchestrate the perfect wedding…for me. It's too late, really, to undo what Mrs. Weasley and I have done to this point. All we can do now is pray that what we've done is something that you and Ronald will love and cherish for years to come.
I love you,
Mum
Hermione held the letter to her chest and sniffled. "I'm sorry, mum," she said in a choked whisper, "I'll never love and cherish this wedding for reasons that you could never understand."
She set the letter down and laid back. She closed her eyes and let her thoughts drift to the one thing that could make her wedding perfect, the one man who could…she started at the sound of the knock on her door. She sat up quickly to wipe her eyes and clear her throat. "Mum, I'm really not in the mood right now," she called out in a shaky voice.
"It's not your mum, Hermione. Can I come in?"
Hermione's heart began to race as she jumped up from the bed and ran to the mirror. She grabbed her wand from the top of the dresser and did a quick cleansing charm to clear away the evidence of her tears.
"Hermione? Are you all right?"
"Yes, yes, I'm fine, Harry," she stammered. "I'm just…I'm not decent. Hold on a minute."
She hurriedly checked her clothes and her hair before slamming her wand down in irritation. "For cripes sake, Hermione, get a grip," she admonished. "It's only Harry for crying out loud." With one final glance in the mirror she walked to the door and slowly turned the knob. "What are you doing here?" she asked before the door was fully opened.
"Your mum called me," he said. "She told me you were upset and she asked me to come and check up on you. What's going on?"
Hermione gestured for him to enter the room and then closed the door behind him. "Have a seat," she said, pointing to the bed. When Harry hesitated she followed his gaze to the dress then took a deep breath and rolled her eyes. "Don't mind that," she said caustically. She reached down and folded the dress over and then gestured for him to sit.
Harry looked at her in surprise. "Hermione that's your-"
"…wedding dress. Yeah, I know."
"But why are you…" he paused to watch her as she sat down on the other side of the dress and then gestured again for him to sit. Hesitantly he sat, his eyes never leaving her face. "Something's really wrong. You don't look well, Hermione. Tell me what's going on."
Hermione looked into eyes and asked the question that had been on her mind since he'd walked in the door. "Why did my mum call you?"
Harry shook his head and gave her a confounded look. "Excuse me?"
"I want to know why she called you," Hermione repeated. "What did she say?"
"She always calls me when something's not right," he said. "You know that. In fact, I'd venture to bet you're not the least bit surprised to find me here."
"I guess not," she replied irritably as she dropped her head to study her fingers. "Why do you suppose that is?"
"Why do I suppose what is?" Harry asked. "Hermione, you're not making any sense." He reached out and grasped her chin. "Look at me," he said softly. Slowly Hermione raised her head. "Tell me what's wrong. Is it pre-wedding jitters or something? Are you nervous, scared…" he paused as he searched her eyes, "what, Hermione. What is it?"
Hermione turned her head away and closed her eyes while she willed herself not to cry again. "You wouldn't understand," she said, her voice both soft and sad.
Harry stood and walked around the bed to kneel down beside her. "Try me, Hermione," he said softly. "I'm sure you can help me to understand." He put his hand on her knee and felt her shudder beneath his touch. "I'm here for you always, you know that."
"Harry, please," she begged. "You can't help me this time." She gasped for a breath as the tears began to fall once more. "Please," her tear-filled eyes pleaded as she spoke in a hoarse whisper, "just go."
Harry placed his hand against her cheek and the look of devastation on his face made her cry a little harder. "Hermione, don't push me away. I promise," he murmured desperately. "I promise not to tell if that's what it takes to get you to open up to me. Hermione, please."
"I don't…" her voice broke and she rested her cheek against the palm of his hand whilst she struggled to regain control of her emotions. "I can't do this…I just…I can't."
"You can't what?"
Hermione shook her head wildly. "No!" she said vehemently. "No! I won't do this. I can't. No, Harry. It's not…I just…I can't." She opened her eyes and implored him not to make her say it. "Harry, please…" she pleaded. "Please don't make me say it."
"Damnit, Hermione," Harry said in a harsh whisper. "You're marrying Ron in three days. You're supposed to be happy. This is supposed to be your time…YOURS!" He grasped her chin once more and pulled her roughly around to look at him. "Tell me what it is you can't do," he demanded. "Tell me!"
Silently she begged him to let her keep her secret…it was the one thing she had of her own and the only thing about her that Harry didn't know. But as she looked into his eyes, she knew that it was useless. "Marry Ron." Her words were spoken so softly that had Harry not been watching the movement of her lips, he wouldn't have caught what it was that she said.
Harry withdrew his hand so quickly from her cheek that he lost his balance and fell back onto his arse. He sat there for a moment in a dazed state and then began to shake his head in disbelief. "No," he said fervently. "That's not…" he looked up at her, his eyes blazing. "What did he do to you this time?" he hissed in a voice suddenly filled with rage.
"Nothing Harry," she said as she closed her eyes and fell back onto the bed. "Ron didn't do anything…not this time."
Harry got on his knees and hobbled over to the end of the bed until his face was mere inches from hers. "Hermione, tell me what's going on," he said in a steely voice. "If you don't, I'll be forced to storm out of here and hex our best friend for crimes I know nothing about. Is that what you want?"
Hermione's eyes widened and she sat up. "You wouldn't."
Harry looked directly into her eyes and through clenched teeth he said the only two words that could make her blood run cold. "Try me."
Her heartbeat quickened and she stared down at him, unable to speak. She knew she couldn't let Harry go storming to the Burrow to hex Ron when the way she felt had little-to-nothing to do with him…this time, she was the one to blame. She took a deep breath and plunged forward, despite the fact that it was the last thing on earth she wanted to do. "It's not him," she sighed resignedly. "It's me. It's my fault, Harry. All mine."
Harry raised an eyebrow, telling her, without words, that he expected more.
Hermione's head and shoulders dropped in defeat. "I don't love him," she said in a voice just loud enough for Harry to hear. "I never really have, not like that…not like a woman should love the man she's about to marry."
Once again Harry found himself on his arse shaking his head in disbelief. "But you agreed…" he shouted.
Hermione put her finger to her lips. "Harry, shhh…" she whispered harshly. She jumped up from the bed and grabbed her wand from the dresser to cast a silencing charm on her room.
The moment she was done Harry jumped to his feet and began to pace the room. "You agreed to marry him, Hermione," he said again, although this time his voice was much quieter. He looked up at her sharply and in an instant he felt all traces of his anger vanish to be quickly replaced by confusion. He narrowed his eyes and cocked his head to the side as he stared at her questioningly. "You did agree … didn't you?"
Somehow he felt he knew the answer even before he saw the first initial shake of her head. "Not really," she admitted. "I never had the chance to answer either way."
The breath that escaped Harry was like the hissing sound of a deflating tire as he sat down heavily upon her bed. "What does that mean?" he asked. "How could you not-"
"Molly," Hermione said, cutting him off mid-sentence. She closed her eyes and pictured that night clearly in her mind as she spoke. "Ron and I had been dating nearly a year by then. We'd just returned to the Burrow from a double-date with you and Ginny. The two of you bid us goodnight, but rather than go to bed, Ron asked me to join him in the kitchen for a late-night snack. Despite the fact that I was exhausted, I agreed to join him. We walked into the kitchen and Ron pulled me into his arms. I asked him what he was doing, but he wouldn't answer…he only let me go and then smiled. I turned around to open a cupboard when Ron suddenly grabbed my arm and spun me around. In his hand was a small velvet box. I couldn't breathe, I didn't know what to do, what to say, how to act. He flipped the lid on the box and inside was the most beautiful ring I'd ever seen. I gasped. He put his fingers on the ring and he whispered the words, "Will you marry me, Hermione?" and I stared at him, I couldn't speak."
Harry watched the emotions play out on Hermione's face as she relived the story for him. He was conscious of every rise and fall of her voice, he was attuned to it. He dropped his head and cringed slightly at the mention of Ginny's name and he smiled when she mentioned Ron and his voracious appetite. And he felt his heart plummet, just as it did that night, when she got to the part where Ron asked the question. He studied her ever-changing expressions closely and he was shocked when the realization hit him that had she been given a choice, her answer would have likely been "no."
"I opened my mouth, but the words wouldn't come. I looked up at Ron and I realized for the first time that I-" she paused and took a deep, shuddering breath as she turned away from him to put her wand back on the dresser, "I didn't love him…not like that. And as I searched his face it hit me…"
"What?" Harry said softly when she paused.
"That he didn't love me that way either." She turned to look desperately at Harry before continuing, her eyes begging him to understand. "I was shocked. It'd taken a moment like that for me to realize that I didn't love him, but I'd never thought it would be obvious that he didn't really love me. I just…I couldn't know that for sure until I asked him. I was getting ready to tell him what I thought I knew…to tell him that we would be okay, but that neither of us was ready for such a commitment. I wanted to call it all off, the whole thing. I opened my mouth and his name barely escaped my lips when Molly entered the kitchen."
Hermione's shoulders slumped and she rotated her head from side-to-side as though working out a kink. "Harry, it was awful," she said. "It truly was. The moment she entered the kitchen and saw the ring, she screamed. She started shouting out her congratulations and telling Ron to hurry up and put the ring on my finger. She didn't even wait to hear whether or not I'd answered him…whether or not I'd accepted his proposal." She looked at Harry pointedly. "You remember that night, don't you? The way Molly woke up everyone in the house to tell them the wonderful news…Ron and Hermione are getting married! Everyone came running up to us, congratulating us, wishing us well. We were overwhelmed and Ron," she shook her head. "Poor Ron had no idea what my answer was going to be. I couldn't very well tell him that I didn't want to marry him…not with all of you there. And so it went," she sighed.
"Why haven't you said anything?" Harry demanded. "It's been nearly three months, Hermione, why didn't either one of you speak up?"
"From there things just got completely out of control," she said by way of explanation. "I thought I'd wait a couple of days to talk to Ron. I'd hoped the fervor would die down a bit…but it only got worse. The next thing I knew, Molly was making wedding plans with my mum and Ron and I we just…" she shrugged and turned her eyes to Harry's. "We didn't have the heart to tell them."
"So you and Ron have talked about this?" Harry asked with a note of incredulity.
Hermione nodded. "About a month ago," she said. "We had an argument over something small, something meaningless…and I," she dropped her head in embarrassment, "I told him that I'd never wanted to marry him in the first place and if it hadn't been for his meddlesome mother always butting in where she doesn't belong, we wouldn't have to be playing this stupid charade. I told him I was tired of living the lie and then I took off my ring, threw it at him, and walked away…intent on never seeing him again."
"But you're still engaged," Harry said. "What happened?"
"He came after me," she said with a shrug. "He told me that he asked me to marry him because he thought that was what everyone expected of him and that for once…" she paused and chuckled wryly, "for once he wanted to do the right thing. He thought it was what I wanted, and he knew it was what his family wanted. He had no idea that I felt the same way he did. He thought his own feelings were just him being him and that maybe he just didn't know enough about love to know that he was in it. We talked about us for a while and then he asked me what I thought we should do about it."
"And what did you say?"
Hermione closed her eyes and sighed. "I asked him if there was really anything we could do about it."
"But Hermione," Harry cried. "There were loads of things you could've-" Hermione shook her head and Harry stopped talking.
"No, there weren't Harry. I cou…" she looked pointedly at him. "Tell me what you would've done, Harry. How would you have done things any differently than Ron and I?"
"I would've…" he shook his head as an image of an excited Mrs. Weasley lost in the throes of making wedding plans entered his mind. His shoulders dropped, "I don't know," he conceded.
Hermione held her hand out in front of her, "Do you see what I mean?" she asked. "Ron and I talked about it and we just kind of agreed that telling Molly was out of the question. There just wasn't any reason, you know. We love each other, just not…"
"Not what?"
Hermione looked at him and silently her heart began to break for everything she'd never have. "Not with a passion. There's no fire. Not even a flicker, really. He doesn't make me feel alive. He doesn't make my heart beat faster…or slower. He doesn't inspire me to become greater than maybe even I've believed possible. He doesn't make me feel special." She dropped head and her next words came out on a whisper, "He doesn't make me feel like y…" her eyes widened the moment she realized what she'd been about to say and she was thankful she'd caught herself in time.
"Like what, Hermione?" Harry asked softly.
Hermione exhaled slowly as she thought about how to respond. For a brief moment she wondered if she should just tell him the truth, but then quickly dispensed of the idea. "Nothing, Harry. I, um…" she paused to moisten her lips and collect her thoughts, "I didn't have anything to say, so that's why I stopped. It's not like nothing…anything, or, well, you know what I mean," she said in frustration. "Can we drop it now," she looked at him, her eyes begging him to listen this time. "Please, Harry, can we just drop it?"
Hermione was still in front of the dresser, although she was now leaning heavily against it. Harry rose from the bed and moved to stand in front of her. "Kiss me, Hermione," he said, his words coming out like a command.
Hermione couldn't hide her surprise at his words. "Excuse me?"
"You heard me," he said forcefully. "Kiss me."
Hermione pushed at his chest with one hand, and reached for her wand with the other. "I'm not going to kiss you, Harry," she said in no uncertain terms.
Undeterred, Harry stepped forward and looked into her eyes. "Why not?" he asked.
"Because I can't," she said as she pushed feebly against his chest once more.
"Why not?" he repeated.
Hermione closed her eyes and sighed as she took a tiny step toward him. "Why should I?"
"Because I need to know the truth," he replied as he took a small step toward her.
"What truth?" she asked with yet another small step.
Harry took the final step, his mouth now only inches from hers. "Please, Hermione, you know me too well. Don't pretend like you don't know," he whispered.
Harry placed his hand against Hermione's cheek and her entire body exploded with a sensation like she'd never felt before…and it scared her. She tried again to push him away but her fingers curled desperately in his shirt. A lone tear streamed down her face as Harry's lips got closer and closer to her own. Suddenly, she fell back against the dresser and a startled Harry opened his eyes in time to see her wipe away a tear. He stood, mesmerized by the look in her eyes that told him so much more than words ever could. "I'm sorry, Harry," she said on a choked whisper, "I'm marrying, Ron."
Before he could react, she was gone. Harry turned swiftly around to see if she would reappear behind him, but she didn't. After a moment he realized that he was most definitely alone. She'd left him standing in the middle of her room…feeling desolate as he stared at a dress she would be wearing in a few short days to marry another man.
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