Just Forget The World

Blissfully Absent Minded

Rating: R
Genres: Angst, Romance
Relationships: Harry & Hermione
Book: Harry & Hermione, Books 1 - 6
Published: 16/06/2006
Last Updated: 13/07/2006
Status: completed

When it's right, there's no fighting it. The title really has nothing to do with the story, it's just a line from the song Chasing Cars by Snow Patrol which I listened to while writing this story. Now rated R for a bit of language, not a whole lot since I don't like foul language, but enough that I'd prefer the young'uns don't read it. I had planned for this to be a two-parter, but I wrote too much, so there's a third part. Sorry it took an extra week for chapter two, but life and a couple of really good books got in the way.

Chapters

1. If I just lay here, would you lie with me and just forget th

2. we don't need anything or anyone

3. all that I am, all that I ever was is here in your perfect e

1. If I just lay here, would you lie with me and just forget th

He could feel her warmth pressed against his back the moment he woke, a warmth that warmed not only his body, but his soul, comforting him in a way that seemed to drive every worry he’d ever had from his mind. Her arm was heavy around his chest, her small hand warming his chest just over his heart and he couldn’t have fought the smile that spread his mouth had he wanted to. He eased himself onto his back, careful not to jostle her, fearful of waking her. Contentment welled up in him as he looked upon her. A lock of hair had fallen across her eye and hid her face from him and he slowly reached his hand to smooth the wayward lock behind her ear.

He’d never told her, but waking up with her was his favourite of all the things they ever did together, better than making love or cuddling on the sofa or laughing together over the comic strip in the Sunday morning paper. Being able to watch her at her most vulnerable, knowing that she trusted him enough to allow him to witness her like this, bare to the world and defenceless, unable even to shy away from his gaze, was infinitely more intimate to him, a man who had spent his life building and rebuilding walls around himself to keep everyone else out even while he slept, than anything else.

As it was rather rare that she was able to spend the night with him, it wasn’t often that they were able to spend mornings together. So waking up beside her that morning was made even more special by the knowledge that she spent the entire night by his side, curled up beside him, snuggled in his arms as though there was no where she’d rather be. It brought him a great sense of peace to know that it was her warmth that kept him warm through the night and her arms that held him against her like she’d never let him go again.

A loose strand of hair tickled her nose and, with drowsy annoyance, she scrunched up her nose and rubbed at the tip with the back of her hand. Harry bit his lip to keep from laughing but all the same felt adoration swell through him. Before he’d gained firsthand experience for himself, he never would have thought that Hermione could be so absolutely adorable even in sleep. She sighed softly in her sleep and shifted closer to him, tightening her hold around him, holding him more securely against her, and moving her head to rest on his chest, pressing her cool nose to his neck and making him flinch.

As he watched her sleep and tried to ignore the encroaching morning light and the oncoming day, Harry knew that he’d never been so happy in his life nor felt so at peace with the world. Nothing could possibly compare with the happiness that laying there with Hermione and just being with her brought him. He’d gladly suffer again a million lifetimes with the Dursleys and his godforsaken destiny as the Chosen One for this moment alone.

He stroked his hand up and down her arm and rested his head back on his pillow, looking at the ceiling and debating whether he ought to try for a few more hours of sleep. It was early yet, just gone eight in the morning, and they hadn’t gotten much sleep the night before, too busy enjoying a rare night together. She’d still be there when he woke, he knew. She craved mornings like this just as much as he did and he was certain that she wouldn’t give it up for anything short of saving the world because nothing was as heavenly as waking up together and being able to lounge in bed together for as long as they pleased.

He also knew that, eventually, they would have to leave the warm cocoon of his bed and begin their day. As much as they wanted, they couldn’t stay in bed forever, they both had overly busy lives that they’d used to fill the void before they finally found each other and which they had both found themselves employing to avoid their friends and loved ones and the questions that would inevitably be asked of them regarding their distance and unavailability as of late. Such were the ramifications of being involved in a secret relationship, they were unable to tell anyone that they were together, a hellish torture in and of itself as they both wanted nothing more than to be able to tell the world so they could be together whenever they desired without fear of being caught.

However, it was highly unlikely that her boyfriend would appreciate them telling everyone they knew that they were together and had been for two months, behind his back and even, on occasion, in his flat. No, that was not an occurrence that either Harry or Hermione were anticipating though they both knew it would inevitably come to pass as they were completely incapable of giving each other up. So, until they discovered the ideal solution, or even a workable solution, to their problem, they’d continue in secret. Besides, it could not be denied that the secrecy of their relationship added a certain flare and certainly made the sex much more intense when they ran the risk of getting caught. Like those times in her boyfriend’s flat… it still made them blush to recall.

Just as he was dozing off again, the sharp crack of apparition snapped Harry back to wakefulness and his sudden jerk shook Hermione from her slumber. Groggily, she frowned at him as she rubbed at sleepy eyes.

“Harry, what is it,” she asked at the same moment a voice from the living room of Harry’s flat called his name, followed by the sound of heavy footsteps approaching down the hall.

Their wide-eyed gazes were fixed on the door as the voice sounded again, closer this time. Harry scrabbled out of the bed, grabbing at clothes on the floor until he found his boxers and t-shirt from the night before and managed to pull them on. He looked back at Hermione, naked and still flushed from sleep, wrapped in his bed sheets looking rumpled and heartbreakingly sexy watching him with wide fearful eyes. His heart throbbed in his chest and he wished for the millionth time in the past two months that she was his and his alone.

He bent over the bed, reaching to capture her mouth for a brief kiss and gently cupped her cheek in his hand.

“Stay here,” he told her, “I’ll take care of it.”

He kissed her again quickly, unable to help himself, and hurried to his door as his name was called again from the hallway just outside his room. His hand on the doorknob, he glanced forlornly back at the scene on his bed, wishing that their morning hadn’t been intruded upon, and quickly twisted the door handle, slipping through the small opening, blocking his bedroom from the view of his unexpected and unwanted visitor.

* * *

Harry stepped through the doorway and very nearly ran into his best friend who had just been reaching out to open the bedroom door himself and without knocking, Harry noticed. He eased the door closed behind him, casting a silent silencing charm to hide any noise that Hermione may make on the other side of the door but allowing her to hear what happened outside of the bedroom.

Harry turned to his friend and scowled unhappily at his intrusion. “Ron, what are you doing here? For the love of Merlin, it’s eight in the morning and on a Sunday no less. What could possibly be so important that you’d show up here now?”

Ron, at least, had the grace to look sheepish for arriving unannounced at so early an hour and shuffled his feet. “Sorry, mate, I just need to talk to someone and I figured since you never have anyone over that it wouldn’t be a big deal, you know?”

Harry’s frown deepened and he roughly grabbed the man’s arm, forcing him back down the hall and away from the bedroom. “For your information, I do occasionally bring people over and I happen to have someone here now, so this damn well better be Armageddon-important or I’m going to slaughter you.”

Ron didn’t bother to mask his surprise. “You have a bird here? Are you serious?”

Harry tightened his grip on Ron’s arm in annoyance. “Yes, I’m serious, you git. What’s so bloody surprising about that?”

“Nothing, mate, it’s just… well, you never bring girls back to your flat, bit of a surprise is all.”

Harry guided his friend to the foyer and none-too-gently shoved him towards the door. “Yeah, well, surprise. Now, you best hurry and tell me what’s so damn important or get out of here. I’ve better plans for my day that looking at your ugly mug.”

Brought back to his reason for visiting his friend’s flat, Ron quickly became uncomfortable once again and started nervously moving about. “Well, it’s just… you see-“

“Ron,” Harry growled, “quit pussy-footing around and get to the point.”

Ron scowled, the tips of his large ears turning pink. “It’s not easy, Harry, so give me a break, would you?”

Harry’s expression darkened as he slowly, deliberately, crossed his arms over his chest and straightened to his impressive and intimidating height.

Ron held up his hands in surrender. “Alright, okay. Can’t we at least go to the kitchen, a spot of tea would be nice about now.”

Harry didn’t budge.

“Fine,” Ron sighed. “Bloke can’t even get any sympathy from his best mate these days.”

“Get there faster, Ron,” Harry instructed, his voice low and dangerous as his thoughts drifted to Hermione who was still in his bedroom and likely pacing about, worrying herself half sick.

“Me and Hermione got in a fight last night,” the redhead finally admitted.

Harry sighed deeply with exasperation. “I swear on Merlin’s knickers, Ron, that if you woke me up to tell me that, you won’t live long enough to worry about what Hermione will do to you for whatever idiotic thing you did last night.”

“Who said I did anything,” Ron demanded, his temper quickly rising.

“You don’t actually expect me to believe that it was Hermione that started the fight, do you? I’ve known you for thirteen bloody years, Ron, I know better than that.”

“She starts fights too!”

He nodded. “Sure, she does, when you say something stupid to offend her.”

“Bloody hell, Harry, why do you always take her side?”

He smirked like the answer was obvious. “Because she’s Hermione, she’s always right.”

“You just think she’s bloody perfect. It’s like you’re in love with her or something, the way you’re always taking her side, following her around like a sodding dog.”

“Come off it, Ron. I’m not the one who followed her around ten years with his tongue hanging out before he got the stones to ask her out. That’s pathetic is what that is.”

Ron’s face was quickly turning an unsettling shade of red and Harry wondered briefly if his friend might hemorrhage.

“Pathetic, is it? Then why do I have the girl and the great Harry Potter has no one.”

Harry was nearly bowled back by the rush of anger the ripped through him and he had to fight a hard-won battle to stop himself from throwing his own relationship with Hermione in the prat’s face. Only the fear of hurting Hermione was able to pull him back from the brink of making such a massive mistake.

“You don’t own her, Ron, and if she ever heard you talk about her like that she’d have your bollocks and you know it.”

Ron opened his mouth, prepared to continue the argument and likely say something he’d greatly regret later, but Harry held up his hand, waving him off before things escalated further.

“Shove off, Ron. I have things to do today and arguing with you isn’t one of them. I don’t care what it was that you said to Hermione, I’m certain it was stupid and that I’m far better off never knowing about it since then I won’t have to kick your arse. Just apologize for whatever it was next time you see her and I’m sure we’ll all be happier for it. Alright?” Harry stepped towards the door and opened it to usher his friend out. “Now get out of here so I can go back to bed.”

“I asked her to marry me, Harry,” Ron said so quietly that Harry almost missed it entirely.

Harry swung the door closed and suddenly found himself unable to think and completely incapable of stopping those words from replaying again and again in his mind. He proposed? Marriage? To Hermione? My Hermione?

In all his life, Harry had never felt such a violent urge to hit someone. Repeatedly.

“You-you-you what? You did… uh, what,” he stammered incoherently.

Ron sighed deeply and rubbed his hands over his face, looking like a lost little boy. Harry had never seen his friend in such a state and found it to be rather unsettling.

“I asked her to marry me last night.”

“And-and-and-“ Harry shook his head, trying futilely to clear his mind from the incessant barrage of thoughts that ranged from wanting to severely injure his friend to wanting to curl up in a dark corner and cry over the evident inevitability that Ron would soon take Hermione from him forever. What if the night before had just been Hermione’s way of saying goodbye to him? Though he really didn’t believe that she was a “one for the road” type woman.

“She said no, mate. That’s why we fought. She told me she wouldn’t marry me. Actually,” he fell back against the wall, slumping against it, “she said that she couldn’t marry me because she doesn’t love me. Never did, apparently.”

Relief slammed through Harry and he stumbled back, reaching out to brace himself on the door behind him. “She said no?”

Ron nodded morosely. “Yeah, turned me down flat. Didn’t even take a minute to think about it, just said no.”

“Wow.”

“Yeah.”

“That’s…” fantastic.

Ron sighed again. “Yeah.”

Harry turned his attention to his pained friend, wondering what to say to him, how to be the understanding and supportive best mate when all he wanted to do was run down the hall to his bedroom, grab hold of Hermione, and refuse to let her go.

“Ron, mate, I’m sorry,” he said sincerely, knowing what he must be going through though unable to relate due to the euphoria he felt.

“You’ve got to help me, Harry.”

He nodded absently. “Yeah, of course. This afternoon, we’ll go down to the pub and get right foxed. You’ll forget all about her, you’ll see, be over her in no time.” Though he highly doubted that. He couldn’t imagine how anyone could ever possibly get over Hermione. She had a way of just getting in a bloke’s system, burrowing so deep and becoming such an intricate part of every aspect of his life until he couldn’t remember anything before he met her, couldn’t drudge up a single thought or memory that she hadn’t touched in some way. He didn’t really think it was possible to get her out of one’s system once she got in and, to be perfectly honest about it, he never wanted to find out if it was possible.

Ron was shaking his hand and waving Harry off. “No, no, that’s not what I mean. You have to help me get her back. You have to talk to her, tell her to marry me. I love her, Harry, no one will ever love her like I do.”

Harry sincerely hoped that was true, he never wanted to see Hermione go through what Ron had put her through, constantly telling her that she was mental and that her ideas and her values were all wrong and no one would ever believe her or support her somewhat risqué endeavours. No, she deserved someone who would be there for her, who would support her even if they didn’t necessarily agree with her or understand.

“Look, Ron, I really don’t want to get involved in this. Hermione’s already made her decision and you know that she’s not going to change her mind.”

“She would if you talked to her,” he pleaded.

Harry shook his head. “I’m not going to do that.”

Ron scowled darkly. “Come on, Harry. You’re supposed to be my best friend.”

“Yeah, well, I’m her best friend too, Ron, and I’m not going to try to talk her into doing something that she clearly doesn’t want to do. I’m sorry she hurt you, mate, but, honestly, I’m not surprised that she said no.”

Ron’s hands clenched tightly at his sides and Harry could see him preparing for a fight. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means that given how often the two of you fight, I can understand why she would say no. Who wants to spend their life fighting all the time? I’m surprised the two of you made it seven months, really.”

Ron’s arms started to tremble with the force of his ire. “Surprised, are you? Surprised that she could actually love me, is that it? Can’t believe that someone could love pitiable Ron Weasley when the great Harry Potter is standing by waiting to play hero?”

Harry could feel his own anger rising again and endeavoured to put an end to things before it got out of hand. “Look, Ron, just go home and cool off. Give it a couple of days and then settle things with Hermione.”

“Oh yeah, and while I’m sitting at home giving her time where will you be? Playing the understanding friend, weaselling your way in and stealing her for yourself. Some friend you are, you bloody bastard.”

“Get out,” Harry said calmly.

Ron looked surprised that Harry wasn’t defending himself and quickly tried to bait him. “Why? So you can rush over to Hermione’s? Maybe have a go at her while she’s upset and vulnerable? Well, here’s a tip, she likes it rough, likes to play that you’re forcing her.”

Harry’s fist shot out before either of them knew it was coming, catching Ron square on the jaw with a sickening crunch and sending him sprawling on the floor. “She’s never even slept with you, you sick bastard, and if I ever hear that you tried to force her to, I’ll kill you.” He was breathing hard, his body trembling with the adrenalin coursing through him. “Now get out before I decide to have another go at you.”

Ron pushed himself up from the floor, cradling his bruised jaw and keeping his distance from the furious man before him. “You stay away from her, Harry. She’s mine.”

“Get out,” he roared and watch disconnectedly as Ron left, slamming the door loudly behind him.

* * *

He’d never be able to recall how long he stood there, staring through a red haze at the door to his flat, his chest heaving with angry breaths before a gentle touch on his shoulder made him jump around, his fists up and ready for a fight. She didn’t even flinch in the face of his anger, simply took his red and bloody hand to carefully inspect it. His knuckles were bloody, the skin broken and already swelling, but her touch was so tender that he barely felt it on his abused skin. After looking over the injured hand briefly, a saddened expression marring her beautiful countenance, she reached for his uninjured hand and led him to the washroom, sitting him on the closed lid of the toilet and she gathered the first aid necessities.

She tsked once as she gently dapped the blood from his knuckles with a damp cloth and he had the grace to look somewhat ashamed under her scrutiny. Neither talked until she’d cleaned his wounds and applied a healing cream and wrapped his hand with gauze.

He watched her quietly as she went about tending to the cuts on his hand. She really was like no one he had ever met before, so caring and intelligent and nurturing that anyone who was fortunate enough to become a part of her life was clearly on the good side of someone up there.

“He proposed to you,” he softly mentioned, feeling fearful of her reason for not telling him that something so potentially life-altering had occurred between his two best friends shortly before she found herself in his bed.

She didn’t pause in her task when he spoke, but he noticed that her body tensed ever so briefly. “He did.”

“You didn’t tell me about that when you came here last night.”

She shook her head slowly. “No, I didn’t”

“Why didn’t you? I think that’s something I probably should have known before we slept together.”

“We’ve slept together before, Harry. It was hardly the first time.”

He refused to be deterred. “Never after he’s asked you to marry him. That was a first.”

“Would it have made a difference?”

He moved his free hand to cover hers, holding them still until she finally met his gaze. “Yes, Hermione, it would have made a big difference. What we have is amazing and I would never want to let you go for anyone, but it’s always been second to what you have with him, hasn’t it? I mean, no one even knows about us, no one can know about us and it makes things seem a little less real sometimes. But everyone knows about you and Ron, half our friends claim they were waiting for years for the two of you to get it together and, whether you admit it or not, that alone makes your relationship with Ron more real in your mind than ours ever has been. So, having him propose to you… well, it isn’t really something that you could just shrug off and forget before jumping into bed with me. I know you, Hermione, and I know that must have been on your mind all night and that you must have been struggling with the guilt of telling him no. So, yes, if I had known, I would have made a great difference and we probably would never have gone to bed together last night.”

She sighed and gently squeezed his hands. “I know that, Harry, and that’s exactly why I didn’t tell you. Telling Ron that I can’t marry him was hard, harder than you can ever imagine, and it was made harder still because I went to his flat last night to break up with him. I want to be with you and no one else and I was going to tell him that last night. Then, out of nowhere, he asked me to marry him. I broke his heart and I think I broke my own heart a little in the process as well.

“When I came here last night, I needed you, just you. I didn’t want you to comfort me or to tell me that I had done the right thing. I just needed you to love me like you always have, without feeling like you had to prove something to me or I had to prove something to myself. I chose you, Harry, long before I went to Ron’s last night and when I came here, I just needed you to make me feel like you always do, like I’m the most important woman in the world to you and that nothing else matters when we’re together. I needed to be with you and just know that I had made the right decision for myself, the decision that I wanted.”

She shook off his uninjured hand and returned to taking care of the battered one, turning her attention back to healing him. “If I had told you about Ron, the night would’ve become about him and that was the last thing I needed. I needed the night to be about us, just us so I could know for sure that I chose correctly.”

“And did you,” he asked tentatively. “Did you choose correctly?”

She smiled tenderly. “The moment you opened your door and I saw you smiling at me like you simply couldn’t believe your eyes that I was there, I knew I made the right decision. You love me like no other man ever could and I love you the same way and that’s why I could never marry Ron.”

He marvelled at how this woman could make him feel with just a few well-chosen and heartfelt words. In a matter of mere moments, she could completely wipe out every bad and painful event and moment he had ever experienced. She was simply amazing.

He bent forward to reach her, pressing a light kiss to her soft lips and then left her to complete her task.

After several minutes of working silently, she finally spoke as she finished bandaging his hand.

“I heard what he said.” Her voice was quiet, as though she didn’t want to acknowledge that someone so close to her could say such things about her.

“I’m sorry.” His apology was heartfelt and sincere and she knew that, in true Harry Potter style, he was blaming himself for what had happened that morning and taking full responsibility for everything that was said as though Ron had absolutely no control over his own actions and words.

Releasing his hand, she moved her hand to gently cup his cheek, lifting his gaze to hers. “No, Harry, don’t apologize to me. You did nothing wrong.”

He opened his mouth to argue and she quickly cut him off. “I heard everything, Harry. I heard every word the two of you said and you did absolutely nothing wrong. Of course, Ron may not see it that way.” She smiled wryly. “I don’t imagine he appreciated his best friend telling him that his relationship was doomed from the onset, but it was true nonetheless and it was something he had to hear. Not from you, granted, but he did need to hear it.”

He nodded his head glumly. “You’re right, I shouldn’t have said that to him. I had no right to do it.”

At his insistence to take the blame onto himself, she laughed with exasperation and wrapped her arms around his shoulders, pulling him into a tight hug and moving to sit in his lap. “Harry,” she drew his name out lightly. “I love you to death, but you drive me absolutely mad.”

He chuckled with her. “In a good way?”

She smiled and smoothed the backs of her fingers tenderly over the familiar curve of his cheek. “In the best way, Harry. I don’t even want to think about what my life would be like without you in it.”

He ran his hands up her back and pulled back far enough to be able to see her face and let a small, tentative smile cross his mouth. “One of these days, I’m going to tie you down for that forever everyone is always talking about and make sure we never have to find out what it would be like without each other.”

He felt her heart rate pick up under his hand on her back and fought the urge to take back what he’d said when the slight look of fear on her face registered in his mind.

“Unless, of course, you don’t like that idea. You are allowed to say “no, Harry’.”

Her voice was soft when she finally spoke after a long pause. “No, Harry.”

His heart clenched painfully in his chest and he quickly blinked back the tears that suddenly filled his eyes. Releasing his hold on her, he started to pull away, but she kept her hold tight and her weight heavy on his legs, preventing him from moving too far away. Held prisoner in her grasp, Harry turned his head away, refusing to look at her and he fought his emotions and wondered why she wouldn’t just let him leave. She’d just told him she wouldn’t spend her life with him, why wouldn’t she let him leave, why torture him further?

Unable to look upon the pain etched into his features, she moved to talk into his ear, holding him closer to her even as he tried to push her away. “I don’t want to wait for ‘one of these days.’ Today, Harry, do it today. I’m ready today. I promise you, I’m ready.”

The quickness with which the surge of happiness filled him and replaced the pain and sorrow amazed him to no end as a wide smile spread across his face and lit his eyes. His arms wrapped themselves around her so tightly, she almost had to fight to breath, but she didn’t mind as laughter bubbled up within her. He could hold her as tight as he wanted as long as he swore to never let her go.

Her laughter was cut short as his mouth covered hers.

2. we don't need anything or anyone

He’d considered flooing straight into her living room like he normally would have done. Though she’d always claimed that she hated it when he showed up in her sitting room unannounced like that, but since she never seemed to have any qualms when Harry did it and because he was her boyfriend and not Harry, he’d always thought it was his right and if she didn’t get shirty with Harry for it, then she had no right to get upset with him about it. However, she hadn’t been returning his owls the past few days which led him to believe that Harry had told her about the fight they’d had, keeping her up to date on all the things he’d said about her to make her think ill of him, and she was a little tiffed about it. No matter, he set things straight shortly, he thought as a smug smile spread across his face. Deny, deny, deny, that was the way to go, afterall, who would believe another bloke over their own boyfriend?

He raised his fist and rapped firmly on the heavy door and stepped back to wait for her to open it. But when she did, he did not receive the welcome he’d been expecting. A large smile had lit her face when she first opened the door, but it rapidly disappeared when her gaze landed on him. She looked suspiciously like she’d been expecting someone else. He scowled with the thought.

“Ron,” she said stiffly, “I didn’t expect to see you tonight. What are you doing here?”

He let his most charming smile spread across his face. “I wanted to see you. I’ve missed you the last few days.”

“Is that so?”

“Of course. And I wanted to see that you’re okay since you haven’t been returning my owls. That’s not like you,” he said, easing past her to enter the small house.

He kicked off his shoes and moved into the living room, dropping his coat over the back of a chair even though he knew she hated that.

Her brow wrinkled in that way it always did when she was slowly growing angry. “Yes, well, I didn’t really think you deserved a reply after what you said about me to Harry.”

He feigned confusion. “What do you mean? I haven’t said anything to Harry.”

She scoffed loudly. “Come off it, Ron, I know exactly what you said to him.”

“You can’t know anything, Hermione, because there isn’t anything to know.”

She saw the tips of his ears turning red and knew that he would soon lose his temper. She pushed him farther. “Really? So you didn’t essentially call me a slag and accuse Harry of wanting to have a go at me while I was… ‘upset and vulnerable,’ was it?”

He tried to fight the rage bubbling up inside of him before answering her. “Of course not. I’d never say anything like that, you know that.”

“No? So then you obviously never told him that I like it rough? Or that I like to play like I’m being forced?” Her voice rose as she spoke and her body began to tremble with outrage as she recalled the hurtful words that her boyfriend had said about her.

“What?” He said, aghast. “Hermione, I’d never say that! I don’t what Harry’s been telling you, but it’s nothing but a lie.”

“How can you stand there and accuse your best friend of lying? Harry’s never in his life lied in order to hurt someone. He would never do that.”

“Well he did. I never said any of that stuff. He’s making it –“

“Stop, Ron. Just stop,” she said loudly, harshly. “You’re just making things worse for yourself. For once, could you just stop lying to me and tell me the truth? Please.”

A shocked look passed over his face. “Wha- Hermione, I’m not lying to you. I don’t lie to you.”

Hundreds of memories of times that she’d caught him in a lie rushed through her mind at a dizzying rate, but rather than argue with him about something of little importance at the moment, she pushed the urge to prove him wrong aside and focused on the matter at hand.

“You’re lying to me right now, Ron, without thinking twice. Doesn’t it bother you in the least? To stand there and straight out lie to me without so much as blinking an eye?”

He growled in his throat, his frustration clear on his face. “Oh, come off it, Hermione, I’m not lying to you.” His arms crossed over his chest and he frowned at her. “You know what the problem is? You’d rather believe anything that Harry says, even if it makes your boyfriend look like the worst sort, than to think even for a second that he could ever do anything wrong.”

“Ron,” she began to argue.

He shook his head furiously, feeling that he’d finally managed to turn the tables a bit and take the heat off himself. “Face it, Hermione, Harry isn’t so perfect as you like to believe. He isn’t some God with sunshine coming out his arse and it’s bloody well time that you learned that. For the love of Merlin, Hermione, I’m your bloody boyfriend and you’ve never once believed me over Harry. You’re letting him ruin our relationship.”

She sighed with exasperation. “Harry isn’t doing anything to our relationship, Ron. You’d just rather blame him than take any responsibility yourself.”

“He is ruining our relationship,” he argued heatedly. “We wouldn’t be fighting right now if he hadn’t told you lies about me and told you that I said things I never said.”

Her hands moved to her hips, her fingers digging in nearly to the point of pain in an attempt to keep herself from lashing out at him. “You did say it, Ron. You said all of it, just stop denying it.”

His face slowly started to turn red. “See here, you’re doing it again, believing what he told you over what I’m saying.”

“He didn’t tell me anything, Ron, I was there,” she shouted, unable to hold herself back any longer. “I heard every horrible thing you said so just stop lying to me.”

His mouth hung open in shock as her words registered in his angered mind. “You… you were there?”

“Yes.”

“So, when you left my flat that night, when you ran off after I proposed, you went to Harry.”

“Ron,” she tried, but he wouldn’t let her speak.

“But that’s no surprise since you always run to Harry. You tell him everything and never tell me anything. You’re always running off to tell Harry about our fights, our problems, so why wouldn’t you have gone to him last night?” He paused for a moment as something seemed to occur to him. “The only problem is,” he began slowly, “that when I talked to Harry that morning, he told me that I’d gotten him out of bed. He didn’t want to talk to me because he had a woman over… she was in his bed.”

“Ron,” she said again, wanting to head him off before his anger overcame him and he did something stupid.

He pointed a finger at her and she couldn’t help but notice that his whole arm was trembling. “You were the bird he had over. You-you were in his bed.” His expression darkened and she stepped away from him in the face of his anger. “Bloody hell, you slept with him. You slept with him after I asked you to marry me.”

“Ron, please, just-“

“How long has this been going on then? How long have you been shagging him behind my back?”

“Ron, I-“

“How long?” he roared moving towards her menacingly.

This time she refused to cower in the face of his anger. “Two months.”

“Two months. You’ve been screwing him for two fucking months. I thought he was my friend.” When he turned his eyes back to her, his expression was cold like she’d never seen on him before. “I thought you were my friend.”

“We are your friends, Ron.”

“No, you’re not,” he said fiercely. “Friends wouldn’t do this. If you were my friends you never would’ve slept together behind my back.”

She blinked back the tears that filled her eyes. She’d been foolish to think that this wouldn’t be so hard, childish to believe that her anger would overcome any emotion that his feelings invoked.

“You may not believe this, but we didn’t plan for any of this to happen. We didn’t expect it to happen. This - our feelings - were as much as a surprise to us as it would be to anyone else. We’ve always been just friends.”

He scoffed loudly. “You’ve never been just friends, Hermione. Anyone would tell you that. You always go running off to Harry with the slightest problem and he never complains about it, always drops whatever he’s doing when you show up.”

“That’s what friends do, Ron.”

“No,” he forcefully interrupted. “That’s what boyfriends do, Hermione. You should’ve come to me with your problems, you should’ve talked to me, not to Harry.”

“And what would you have done, Ron? Patronized me? Told me that I was being foolish and then start going on about the Chuddley Canons or some such nonsense?” She asked. “You’ve never been there for me when I needed to talk about something. You always make me feel like what I have to say isn’t important, you never listen.”

“Oh and Harry does?”

“Yes, he does. He always has.”

“Right, because we all know that Harry’s bloody perfect, isn’t he?” He responded petulantly. “Better than a Weasley at any rate, right? After all, we’re just a bunch of poor, pathetic redheads. Hardly worth your precious time, really.”

She frowned. “Stop it, Ron. That’s not how we feel, we never have. You’re our best friend and you always will be.”

An uncomfortable silence overcame them as she watched him closely, wondering if there was any chance that he’d ever forgive them.

“No,” he finally said, speaking softly. “No, you’re not and I’m beginning to think you never were.”

She couldn’t stop the gasp that escaped her. “You don’t mean that.”

“Yeah, I do.” He snatched his coat from the chair where he’d tossed it and jerked his trainers on.

His hand was on the door before she finally had enough control over herself again to try to stop him. “Ron, wait. Please, just talk to me.”

He turned to look at her, his blue eyes cold and empty. “I don’t have time to waste on a worthless slag.” Looking triumphant in the face of her pain, he yanked the door open. “Or the git pathetic enough to shag her.”

The door slammed behind him and she reached out to support herself on the back of a nearby chair, her free hand going to her mouth to muffle her sobs.

* * *

He tapped lightly on her door as he pushed it open. “Hermione?”

Not hearing an answer, he toed his shoes off at the door, nudging them out of the way and followed the hall to the living room, checking for her in the kitchen as he passed.

“Hermione,” he called again and was answered with silence once more.

He finally found her lying curled up on the sofa in her living room. He smiled gently, taking a moment to just watch her before quietly crossing the wooden floor. He took the blanket from the back of the couch and shook it out. Moving around to the front of the sofa, he carefully covered her with it, gently tucking it around her. As he brushed it over her shoulders, he felt her shaking ever so lightly and glanced to her face only to find the damp trails of her tears.

“Hermione?” he questioned softly.

Her body shook roughly and a sob tore from her throat as she turned her head to hide her face in the sofa cushion. He kneeled before her, his hand tenderly brushing her hair away from her face and soothing it comfortingly. Uncertainty of what had upset her so caused anxiety to build within him.

“Sweetheart, what is it?”

She shook her head, crying into the cushion, her body now trembling constantly with the force of her emotions.

He moved his free hand to grasp hers and she latched on tightly, drawing it to her chest for comfort. “What is it? What happened?”

“Harry,” she managed to croak between sobs.

Slowly, he moved over her, easing himself between her body and the back of the couch and she edged forward to give him room. Once situated, he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her firmly against his chest, holding her tightly and dropping kisses in her hair.

“Talk to me, Hermione. I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what happened.”

Her hands moved up his arms, pressing them tightly to her, silently asking him to hold her tighter and he quickly obliged, tightening his arms and wrapping his body around hers until he felt like he was pulling her into him.

“Shh,” he whispered into her hair, trying to sooth her. “I’m here, love, I’m here. It’ll be okay. Everything will be fine.”

He repeated his words, pausing occasionally to brush her hair or kiss her lightly wherever he could reach, until she finally began to calm, her sobs quieting and her trembling easing. Once she’d calmed considerably, he tried again.

“What is it, Hermione? What happened?”

Another sob shook her body and he worried that he upset her again until she finally spoke. “He hates us,” was all she said.

With his cheek, he smoothed her hair away from her face and pressed his lips to the soft spot just below her ear. “Who hates us?”

She shook her head. “He hates us.”

“I don’t understand, Sweetheart,” he told her, though he had a sinking suspicion that he did understand. He gently eased her to her back so he could see her face. “You have to tell me what happened. Who hates us?”

She sniffled quietly, moving a hand to rub at her nose and then moving it back to grip his arm again. “Ron. He told me.”

He sighed, understanding what she was talking about and what must have happened and wishing he could do something to make things better for her. “Start at the beginning, love. Tell me what happened.” And he braced himself to hear what she would say because he knew that whatever Ron had said it would have been harsh and unbelievably cruel, filled with anger and hatred.

She sniffled again but seemed to have gotten herself well enough under control to tell him what had happened earlier between her and Ron. She drew a deep breath before beginning. “He came over earlier to work things out between us. I was expecting you since we were going to have dinner.”

He tenderly stroked a loose strand of hair from her cheek and tucked it behind her ear. “I’m sorry,” he said softly. “I got held up at work, I wanted to floo-call you, but I just couldn’t get away. Death Eaters, you know, they just never give up.”

She graced him with a small smile. “Don’t worry about it, Harry. I assumed it was something like that.”

He grinned and kissed her forehead. “Go on, what happened when Ron got here?”

She sighed. “I opened the door expecting you and he just smiled at me and walked in, acted like nothing happened. I couldn’t believe his nerve. He had to have known that I would be well aware of everything he said about me by the time he came around. I called him on it, of course. I didn’t really see any purpose to beating around the bush and, to be perfectly honest, I really wanted to give him hell for what he said about me.” Harry chuckled lightly and felt a small sense of pride in her for having the courage to confront Ron. “He denied it, which really isn’t surprising at all. I knew he wouldn’t own up to it, he never does when he’s in the wrong, not until he just can’t deny it anymore.”

She looked up at him and raised her hand to cup his cheek. He moved his own hand to cover hers and tried to smile encouragingly, but he had an overwhelming sense that what she had left to say was going to be the worst of it.

“He just made me so angry, Harry, I couldn’t stop myself. He accused you of running behind his back, rushing over here to tell me everything that he had said, he said you were lying, that you just wanted to break up our relationship. I couldn’t help it, I was so mad I told him to stop lying because I knew everything he’d said because I heard it. He quickly realized that I was the woman you had over that morning.”

Harry sighed deeply, wondering when he could expect Ron to show up at his flat and try to take his head off.

“I’m sorry, Harry.” Her voice cracked with emotion.

“Shh. It’s okay, Hermione. It’s better that it’s out. That’s not exactly the way I would’ve told him, but it’s better that he knows.”

She nodded slowly and leaned against him. “He asked how long we’d been sleeping together so I told him. I wouldn’t lie to him, that would only exacerbate the situation.” She paused briefly and Harry tightened his hold on her. “He was so angry, so hurt,” she whispered painfully. “I’ve never seen him so mad. For a bit, I was afraid of what he might do.”

Harry drew a strangled breath and pushed her away, holding her at arms length as he frantically looked her over. “Did he hit you? Did he touch you?” he demanded.

She shook her head quickly. “No, Harry. No, he didn’t touch me.”

He relaxed slowly. “What did he do?”

“He yelled,” she answered in resignation. “A lot. He accused us of pretending to be his friends and of only pitying him because he’s a Weasley. He…” she sobbed and pressed a hand to her mouth until she had control of herself again. “He called me a worthless slag, said we weren’t worth his time and then he left. Oh, Harry,” she cried, wrapping her arms around him and pressing her face to his shoulder. “What have we done?”

He stroked his hand over her back and pressed kisses to her hair. “It’s okay, Hermione. It will be okay.”

She shook her head against his shoulder. “No, Harry, you didn’t see him, you didn’t hear what he said. I think we’ve lost him. I do.”

He held her tightly. “Believe me, sweetheart, he’ll be back and he’ll forgive us. You know Ron and you know his temper. He’ll stay angry with us for a few days, maybe a couple of weeks and then he’ll come talk to us. We’ve all been friends for far too long to let anything ruin that. Things will work out, you’ll see.”

She pulled back to frown at him. “His best mate stole his girlfriend, Harry, I don’t think he’ll forgive that so easily as you seem to think.”

Harry flinched. “I didn’t plan to love you, Hermione, and, if he knows me at all, he’ll see that sooner or later.”

She studied him for a moment and could see that her thoughtless comment had hurt him. She kissed him lightly and then held his gaze. “I know you didn’t and neither did I, but I’m certainly happy that we did. I’ve gone through my entire life feeling like an outsider, like there was something fundamentally wrong with me, that something was missing. I don’t feel that way anymore, Harry, not since I fell in love with you. As cliché as it sounds, you filled a void in me that I never thought would ever be filled.”

He smiled brightly at her and she was overwhelmed by the love she could read in his eyes. “It is horribly cliché, love,” he teased and found himself on the receiving end of a light slap before turning serious. “But I know exactly what you mean because you do the same for me.”

“Good.” She kissed him again.

He brushed his nose gently against hers. “Ron will come around eventually,” he assured her. “In the meantime, why don’t you and I take a short break and get away. Even if just for the weekend.”

“Do you really think that’s a good idea right now?”

“I think it’s a fantastic idea. Think about it. Ron will no doubt tell his family his version of things. This way, we can avoid everyone until they’ve cooled down enough to listen to what we have to say and we get a little vacation together.”

“I don’t know, Harry.”

“Well I do. We’ve never been able to do something like this before. This is our first chance to just be together without worrying about being caught. We could go to a country inn and just spend the weekend together without feeling guilty or having to think of alibis. You can’t tell me that doesn’t appeal to you.”

She frowned and didn’t answer because he was right, it did appeal to her. It appealed to her strongly.

“I’m thinking maybe somewhere just outside of Stratford or even in the town. We could go to a Shakespeare play or two, maybe visit a few Shakespearean sites. How can you say no to that?”

He fought to suppress a triumphant smile and failed miserably. He’d won and he knew it. She punched his shoulder and scowled at him. “I can’t say no to that and you know it.”

He laughed. “Yes, I do.” He got to his feet and offered her his hand to pull her up as well. “You go pack a bag and I’ll make the arrangements. We’ll leave first thing tomorrow.”

“Harry, I have work and so do you.”

“Not tomorrow we don’t. Shacklebolt owes me at least a year off for all the overtime and weekends I’ve worked and you haven’t taken a holiday in your life, you can skive off, your boss won’t fire you.” He grinned cheekily. “I promise.”

She grinned, affected by his boyish grin, though she’d never admit it. “No, I don’t imagine he would since he’s the one encouraging me to skive off.”

“You’re boss is amazing. I wish I had a boss like him.”

She looked at him tenderly and moved in to kiss him lingeringly. “Yeah, you are quite amazing.”

He kissed her again before gently pushing her away. “Go pack quickly because as soon as everything’s arranged, I’m keeping you busy for the rest of the night.”

She laughed lightly, feeling much better. “Is that a promise?”

He held his hand over his heart. “Wizard’s oath if you want.”

“I’ll hold you to it.”

“I certainly hope so.” He winked at her, eliciting a surprisingly girlish giggle as she hurried down the hall to her bedroom. He watched her until she disappeared into her room and then turned to the kitchen and the telephone.

* * *

His hand moved slowly over her back, enjoying the soft, silky feel of the fitted camisole she wore. It was a beautiful day, a perfectly lazy Sunday marred only by the fact that, shortly, they’d have to return to their lives at home and deal with whatever chaos their recently unveiled relationship had caused amongst their friends and extended family. He wondered briefly how many howlers would be awaiting them upon their return and exactly how venomous they would be after having several days to fester as he knew from experience that the longer they were left unopened, the more ferocious they became. At the very least, he knew they would have to deal with howlers from Mrs. Weasley and Ginny as well as potential curses and hexes from a no doubt jealous Ginny. He idly wondered if his somewhat scandalous relationship with Hermione had been leaked to the media yet or if that particularly delight was something they’d have to wait for and suffer through in the near future.

Hermione sighed lightly and snuggled closer to him, nuzzling his neck with her nose, drawing him from his htoughts. She pressed a like kiss to the sensitive skin of his neck. “What are you thinking about?”

He lightly squeezed her as a small smile touched his lips. “I’m thinking that we should buy a house in the country, a nice, cozy little place and set up one of these things in the backyard,” he answered and shifted his weight enough to make the hammock they were relaxing in sway gently. “Wouldn’t it be nice to be able to do this all the time?”

He felt her smile against his neck when she kissed him there again. “Yes, it would be lovely.”

“We could just lie together like this whenever we wanted and forget about the rest of the world for a few hours. We could lie in the hammock on clear nights sipping and looking at the stars.”

“That sounds perfect,” she replied softly. “A wonderful little getaway when we need it.”

“Perfect,” he murmured, seeing it all in his mind. “We’ll do that.”

They lay in silence for a long while, enjoying the other’s company and how simple things were when they were together and away from the hassle of their lives, however short-lived the reprieve was.

“Do you think we should talk about it,” she asked softly, her meaning clear.

He sighed deeply, wishing they could hide away forever and never have to deal with what awaited them at home. “I don’t want to,” he answered, “but I suppose we should.”

She moved away from him and pushed herself up on an elbow to look at him. “I don’t want to either, I wish we didn’t have to deal with it at all, but we do and we should be prepared. I think we both know what we’ll find when we go back.”

“An entranceway buried in howlers and a pack of very angry Weasleys,” he said without hesitation. “And, more likely than not, a bat bogey hex or two.”

She frowned deeply. “Yes, I suppose so. It won’t be easy, Harry. Least of all for you. I know you think of them as family and they feel the same about you, but Molly and Ginny, at the very least, are going to feel betrayed. I don’t imagine the rest of them will have much to say on the matter, but Ron will have run straight to his mother and Ginny.”

“Yeah, I know and he’ll have embellished the story to make what we did seem worse and to make himself out to be the hapless victim.”

“Well, that rather is what happened Harry. He didn’t exactly do anything wrong in our relationship and he certainly didn’t deserve to be cheated on.”

He reached up and gently traced the curve of her cheek with the tip of a finger. “He may not have deserved it, but he wasn’t exactly the greatest boyfriend ever. He ignored you half the time, fought with you and patronized you the rest of time and, I hate to say it, but I’m certain that he wasn’t faithful all the time.” He watched as her eyebrows raised in surprise, her eyes widening slightly. “He didn’t tell me anything, he wouldn’t have, not when it was you that he was cheating on, but I spent enough time with him to notice the way he looked at other women. I’m fairly sure he was with other women during your relationship, so he’s not a real victim in all of this, regardless of how he acts.”

She took a few minutes to think about what he had said, compare to her own observations and thoughts on past situations with her ex-boyfriend and sighed in resignation. “Regardless of that, he’ll have told everyone his version of the truth and we both know how he’ll have made us appear.”

Harry nodded. “No argument there.”

“Molly will blindly accept everything that he’s told her and be furious with us both. I know what that’s like and I’m prepared for it; I have been since I started seeing you.”

“Me too,” he whispered.

“Ginny on the other hand,” she began.

He stroked a loose strand of hair back behind her ear. “Ginny and I have been over for ages, she’s no right whatsoever to be angry with you… or me for that matter.”

“Yes, well, a rational person would see and understand that. However, Ginny Weasley is nothing if not rash and highly jealous especially when it concerns you. You know that she’s going to react first and horribly and, years from now if ever, she’ll think about it all and realize that she has no claim on you.”

He smiled grimly, seeing the truth in her words. “I won’t let her do anything to you, Hermione. She can get as angry as she likes, but she won’t touch you.”

“Oh, Harry,” she tenderly cupped his cheek. “I’m not worried about what she’ll do to me. I can protect myself if need be, but I know that you would never let it go that far regardless of how capable I am. What I’m concerned about is how it will all affect you.”

He frowned. “What do you mean? I haven’t any feelings for Ginny, you know that.”

“Yes, I do know that, but you do love them all very deeply. They’re your family, Harry, and I know you’d do everything in your power to keep from hurting them in any way.”

He pressed his fingers to her lips to silence her. “Yes, I would, but not if it meant hurting you in any way. You’re right; they are my family. They took me in and accepted me when I had no one else. They chose me, but I chose you, sweetheart, and that’s all there really is to it. I love them, I really do, and I know how they’ll react and I know it will hurt, but I’m prepared for that and I’ll be just fine. If they truly think of me as family, then they’ll want me to be happy, won’t they? So they’re just going to have to accept that Ginny is not and never will be the one that I choose. You are the only one that can make me happy for that forever we’re planning.”

Her eyes filled with tears as they moved over his features, taking him in and committing that moment to her memory. She slowly moved in to kiss him, her lips lingering against his in a light touch. “I love you, you know. So much.”

He smiled and kissed her. “I know. I love you, too.”

“It’s not going to be easy.”

“I know.”

After a moment, she settled down against him again, resting her head on his chest and letting herself relax to enjoy what was left of their quiet afternoon. His hand resumed lightly stroking her back and she her head under his chin, her arm across his stomach holding him tight.

“In case they think we’re not serious about this,” he began slowly, his hand digging in his pocket, “I have something an idea that I believe will remove any doubt.”

She lifted her head to frown at him. “Harry, I told you that I am not getting matching tattoos nor am I tattooing your name anywhere on my body.”

He laughed and shook his head. “No, not that, but while we’re on the subject I still don’t understand why you won’t let me get a tattoo of your name.”

“Harry,” she said, her voice full of exasperation.

“I’m not asking you to get a tattoo of any sort, I’m just saying that maybe I want to mark myself as yours, make sure the whole world knows, you know?”

She shook her head. “Because I don’t own you, Harry, and I will not allow you to mark yourself as mine in such a permanent fashion.”

A dark eyebrow quirked. “How about a temporary fashion? Just until people get the idea that I’m taken.”

She thought about it for a moment, her brow creasing with thought. She couldn’t deny that the idea appealed to her, it was such an annoyance to watch other women fawn over him all the time. “What did you have in mind?”

“I don’t know, we can negotiate. In the meantime, I have something for you that will hopefully set Molly and Ginny straight.”

She grinned. “And what’s that?”

“Well, it seems to me that while you told me you were ready for that forever that everyone’s always talking about, we never really made it official, did we?”

A fine tremble moved over her body as her heart rate started to pick up and her stomach seemed to instantaneously become filled with butterflies. “No, you’re right, we didn’t.”

He pulled his hand from his pocket and handed her a small black box. “I think it’s about time we did.”

She stared at the box in his hand, unable to do anything but look at it as her mind seemed to lose the ability to command her body into action. Noticing her lack of response, Harry reached with the arm that was wrapped around her and opened the box, displaying a beautiful ring for her to see. He held it before her.

Titling his head to watch her, he said, “How about it, love? Will you marry me?”

She managed somehow to pull her gaze away from the ring to look at him. “Yes, Harry.”

His cheeks hurt from the strain of smiling so widely. “I had hoped you would say that.”

She looked bewildered. “What else would I say?”

He laughed heartily, filled with such happiness that he never knew was possible. “Oh, Hermione, I adore you.” He pressed a long to her mouth, slowly coaxing a response from her. He nipped at her lip as he withdrew.

“Ginny’s going to kill me,” she breathed against his mouth and he laughed again.

“I’ll deal with Ginny, it’s time she realized that nothing is going to happen between her and me. She’ll leave you alone if she knows what’s good for her.”

She looked at him in wonder, not seeming to hear his words. “We’re engaged,” she whispered in astonishment.

He grinned. “Yes, we are and it’s long overdue.”

“Let’s not wait long to marry.”

He eased her to her back and moved over her, bending his head to kiss her lightly. “Whenever you want.”

“Okay,” she replied, sinking her hands into his hair and pulling him down to her. “Soon.”

“Soon,” he agreed and lost himself in her kiss.

“Very soon.”

* * *

3. all that I am, all that I ever was is here in your perfect e

Hey all,

I apologize for taking so long to post this final chapter, but I’ve been out of town for a few days and didn’t have internet access. Though wouldn’t it be fantastic if campgrounds provided wireless internet? Anyway, enjoy and please review.

Blissfull

They returned to a dark apartment with reluctance, both wishing they could have stayed forever at the small country bed and breakfast they’d visited. They left their shoes and bags in the entryway and ventured into the living room, ready to collapse on the sofa for a long sleep as neither had been overly concerned with rest the previous night.

“How long do you think we have,” Harry asked as he stretched out on his sofa, leaving room between himself and the back for Hermione.

She climbed over him, easing herself down beside him, moving her leg between his and laying her arm on his chest. “Maybe an hour,” she answered. “I wouldn’t put it past either Molly or Ginny to ward both our flats to alert them when we returned.”

He yawned loudly. “That’s true and Ginny’s done it before, wouldn’t take her much to do it again.”

Hermione copied his yawn. “She’s done it before?”

He nodded sleepily, tilting his head to rest his cheek on her brow. “A couple times, my own personal stalker it seems.”

“Sometimes I think she’s a little addled.”

He chuckled softly. “Oh, she definitely is. You don’t know the half of it.”

She stretched against his side before settling in again. “Someday you’ll to tell me about it.”

“M’kay,” he mumbled, already drifting off.

“Good idea.” She yawned again. “Let’s sleep until they get here. Best to be rested for the battle.”

A short hour later, Harry awoke to the uncomfortable feel of something rather pointed and hard repeatedly poking his arm, something he’d not felt since he’d lived with four other boys in the Hogwarts’ dorms but that he instinctively knew could be nothing but the tip of someone’s wand. Without opening his eyes, he swatted at it in annoyance and tried to roll to his side, impeded by Hermione’s body pressed tightly to his side. He tightened his arm around her and hid his face in her hair, content to ignore whoever had awoken him in preference for a few hours more sleep.

However, whoever had so rudely awoken him did not appreciate his need for rest and poked him again, harder this time. He lifted his head and scowled at the blurry figure before him.

“Ouch,” he cried, rubbing at his chest where he’d been prodded. “D’you mind? That hurts, you know.”

“Not nearly enough,” a very familiar voice coldly replied.

Harry sighed in resignation, aware that there would be no way to avoid the confrontation soon to occur and reached out for the end table where Hermione had set his glasses. With his sight properly corrected, Harry looked up at the angry witch scowling at him and Hermione.

“Been talking to Ron, have you?”

Her smalls hands clenched at her side, her right around wrapped firmly around her wand, which she deliberately kept focused on the two on the sofa. “Even if he hadn’t told what you did to him, seeing Hermione lying on top of you like that would’ve made things clear enough.”

“Yes, well, if you’d learn to knock rather than just walking in to a person’s flat without warning or asking,” he replied snidely, “then you wouldn’t have seen anything. Really, Ginny, we’ve talked about this before, I don’t want you just making yourself at home in my flat whenever you feel like it.”

“Now I see why,” she snipped.

Their arguing was enough to stir Hermione from her sleep and she moved slowly against Harry’s side, her hand on his chest clenching his shirt briefly before sliding down his chest and across to wrap around his side, holding him firmly against her. She turned her face into his shoulder as she stretched her body as best she could while pressed between him and the back of the sofa before lifting her head enough to look at him blearily.

“Harry,” she said sleepily, “what is it?” Her hand moved from his side to tenderly touch his cheek, her fingers tracing the hard line of his mouth, her brows furrowing as she briefly studied him. “What are you angry about?”

He felt his expression soften as he looked at her and felt a brief pang of guilt for such a display of affection in front of Ginny, but decided she earned it if she refused to knock at the door and wait for him to allow her in like a regular person would.

“I received a rather rude wake up call, love. Seems it’s time to pay for our sins and all that.”

She frowned and turned her head to see Ginny standing over them, turning further she found Mrs. Weasley standing just beyond the arm of the sofa where Harry rested his head. “Oh judgement day already, is it? And I was rather enjoying my sleep.”

Harry couldn’t stop the grin that curved his mouth. “Yes, so was I, but it seems Ginny has other plans.”

“Apparently,” she replied and yawned widely. “Well, I suppose we better get up then.”

She moved her hand to Harry’s chest again and used him for leverage as she pushed herself up from the couch.

“You think this is funny? You’ve been cheating on my brother for months and you think it’s all a big joke,” Ginny demanded angrily, her face slowly turning a red that Hermione had never seen on the girl before.

Hermione turned her back to the couch and narrowed her eyes at the girl. “No, Ginny, I don’t think it’s funny. What I find amusing is why, exactly, you think it concerns you in anyway because the last I heard, you were not involved in my relationship with Ron nor were you involved with Harry. So, really, nothing that happened between the three of us had anything to do with you whatsoever.”

“Nothing to do with me,” Ginny repeated incredulously, her ire steadily rising.

“Yes, that’s what I said,” Hermione replied coolly, ignoring the calming hand that Harry placed on her shoulder. “And yet you seem to think that you have every right to barge into Harry’s flat unannounced and uninvited, demand answers from us that you’ve no right to and, I’d wager, make us pay for what we did, though we did nothing to you.”

“You betrayed all of us, Hermione,” a soft but undeniably angry voice said from behind them, cutting Ginny off before she could argue for herself.

Harry and Hermione turned to find Mrs. Weasley standing several feet behind the sofa, her arms crossed over her chest and the angriest look either had ever seen on her face.

“You betrayed Ron in the worst way that you could and you seem to think that no one’s going to anything about it. Do you really think you’re above punishment, Hermione?”

Hermione shook her head slowly, but did not back down in the face of the woman’s anger. “No, Mrs. Weasley, I don’t think either Harry or I are above punishment, but that does not give you or Ginny the right to punish us. What happened between Ron and Harry and I involves only the three of us and Ron is the only one with any right to demand that we be punished for it.”

Mrs. Weasley took a menacing step toward them and while Harry felt the urge to move away, to hide from her anger, Hermione showed no sign that she felt cowed and stood her ground.

“When Ron came home looking like his world had fallen apart and he had nothing left to live for, it became my right to see that whoever hurt him didn’t get away with it.”

Harry cleared his throat uncomfortably and reached for Hermione’s hand to quiet her before she could argue again. “With all due respect, Mrs. Weasley, Ron is a grown man who can fight his own battles. He shouldn’t need his mother to fight them for him. If he wants to say something to Hermione or me, he can say it himself.”

Mrs. Weasley furious gaze found Harry quickly and held onto him, the look in her eyes twisting his heart. He never could have imagined that someone’s anger could have the power to wound him so deeply, but then, he’d never felt a mother’s anger before, not a mother that he thought of as his own.

“You’re actions surprise me most of all, Harry. Ron thinks of you as a brother. How could you do something like this to him? Do you actually think that she is worth losing him over?” She gestured rudely to Hermione and spat the word ‘she’ as many now spoke the name Voldemort, like she was disgusting and vile.

Harry felt a fire rise in him as he saw the impact of Mrs.Weasley’s words on Hermione. Hermione jerked like she’d been physically hit and tears immediately welled in her eyes. He heard Ginny snort behind him and mutter something about Hermione not being worth losing even Percy over.

Feeling pain and grief flowing off Hermione, Harry pulled her to him and held her tightly against his chest. “If you’d ever loved someone like I do Hermione, you wouldn’t have to ask me that question, Mrs. Weasley. I’m sorry that Ron was hurt and I know that we went about things wrongly, but I cannot and will not ever regret being with her.”

“Are you mad, Harry,” Ginny demanded loudly. “You’re going to let her ruin your friendship with Ron? Do you think he’ll ever forgive you for this? Do you think I’ll ever forgive it?”

Harry turned enough to glare at her. “I think I know Ron well enough to believe that he’ll forgive us with time. As for you, we’ve done nothing to you that we should have to ask your forgiveness for.”

Ginny narrowed her eyes and Harry could see her start to tremble with the force of her anger. “You’ve done nothing to me? Have you any idea how much it hurts to see you with her?” Like her mother, Ginny spoke of Hermione as though she was a lesser being.

“Don’t talk about her like that,” Harry growled. “Don’t you dare treat her like she’s not as good as you because she’s a far better person than you could ever hope to be. You stand there, saying everything you can to hurt her, attacking her like she’s your enemy and she’s done nothing to you. You and I were not together, Ginny. She didn’t steal me from you; she didn’t stab you in the back. Regardless of what you may think, I am not and never was yours. So you can just shut your mouth and leave her alone.”

“Harry,” Mrs. Weasley snapped as Ginny jerked back roughly.

He barely heard Mrs. Weasley and did not care to see the look on Ginny’s face as the feel of Hermione gratefully tightening her hold on him made him feel like he’d just saved the world again.

“I expected better of you, Harry Potter,” Mrs. Weasley was saying condescendingly. “I thought you hadn’t been affected by those horrible muggles that raised you, but now I see that you’re more like them than I ever thought. No one else, no wizard that I know, could be so careless of his friends or betray the family that took him in like you’ve done. Everything we’ve done for you, Harry, everything I’ve done for you and you treat us like this? You’re just like them.”

Harry felt her words like blows to his chest, felt them beating at his will, at the door behind which he hidden the lost, helpless little boy that he’d once been. Her words struck at him, battering away at all the work he done with help from his friends and Hermione to move past what he’d suffered and to deal with it and put it behind him. Her words dredged it up again, piece by piece and he felt the Dursleys actions and words to him over again as though they were standing before him at that moment.

Before he felt her move, Hermione had pulled from his embrace and put herself firmly between him and Mrs. Weasley, her hands on her hips, her wand having appeared in her right hand, she faced off against the older woman ready to defend herself and Harry if necessary.

“Don’t you ever speak to him like that again,” Hermione ground out. “You’ve never met the Dursleys and you haven’t the faintest idea of what they did to him. You couldn’t possibly imagine what sort of people they are because you’ve never come across anyone who’s nearly as cruel and hateful and abusive as them. Harry is nothing like them. They attacked him without provocation, treated him like he was nothing but an animal. If anyone here is anything at all like those vile people, then it is you, Mrs. Weasley, you and your manipulative daughter.”

Both Weasley women gasped at her words and Mrs. Weasley seemed to cower before Hermione’s unprecedented rage.

“You claim to love him, claim to treat him like he’s your own son, yet you come here for the sole reason of attacking him when you hope he’s least expecting it because you know that’s when you’ll be able to do the most damage,” Hermione seethed, her teeth clenched and her muscles so tight that her entire body trembled steadily. “Harry’s spent his whole life dealing with people like you, people who claim to want the best for him but jump at him the moment he feels even the slightest bit of happiness. You can’t possibly love him like you claim if you can be so vindictive and hurtful the second he makes a mistake.”

Mrs. Weasley sputtered for several moments before she managed to collect herself enough to speak. “How dare you talk to me like that? I will not-“

Hermione interrupted harshly. “I will speak to you anyway I choose. You are not my mother and you’ve just proven without a doubt that you do not deserve the slightest respect. I will not be cowed by you and I will not let you treat Harry as you are. And I will never again believe that you care for him like he’s your own son because no mother would ever attack her child with the one bit of information that she knows is the most hurtful to him. You chose the one thing from Harry’s life that you knew would hurt him the deepest and I will never forgive you for that.”

Hermione felt someone grip her arm tightly and turned her head to find Ginny’s furious countenance inches away. “Don’t talk to my mother like that, you slag.”

Hermione glared and violently shook of her grip. “Get out.”

Ginny looked surprised, like she didn’t understand what Hermione was saying. “What?”

“Get out,” Hermione growled. “Both of you.”

Ginny’s hands moved to her hips. “You can’t order us about like that. This isn’t your flat,” she said, sounding superior but childish.

Hermione smirked meanly. “It’s Harry’s flat and, as his fiancée, I can do whatever I like.”

Ginny blanched. “Fiancée?”

“You can’t marry her, Harry,” Mrs. Weasley ordered. “I won’t allow you to hurt Ron further. He’s going to propose to her. That’s the way it’s meant to be.”

Harry opened his mouth to tell her exactly what he thought of that plan, but Hermione beat him to it. He bit back his ire though he could feel it boiling stronger within him with every word that either Weasley spoke. They’d wronged Hermione many times before, it was time that she had the chance to tell them what she thought of them, his chance would come.

Hermione turned her glare to the older witch. “He can marry me and he will because that’s the way it’s meant to be. Everything went wrong a long time ago and it’s finally back to the way it should be and I won’t let it go back. You’ve no say in who either Harry or I marry and, frankly, I don’t care if you had it all planned out as you wanted. I don’t care if you always thought Harry would marry Ginny or I would marry Ron because that’s just not going to happen. Not now, not ever. Now, unless you wish to congratulate us on our engagement, I want you to leave.”

Mrs. Weasley’s anger returned full force. “Now listen here, you little trollop, I won’t be order about by-“

“Leave,” came Harry’s quiet yet forceful order. “You’re no longer welcome in my home. I won’t standby while you treat Hermione like she’s less than you and I won’t allow you to attack her like this.”

“Harry,” Ginny tried. “You can’t be serious. You know that you don’t actually want to marry her. I’ve been waiting on you since before the war, you were always planning to come back to me. We’re going to get together again.”

“No, Ginny,” his stated firmly, leaving no room for argument. “I never planned on coming back to you or being with you again. I’m sorry you thought that, but it was never the plan. I always hoped to be with Hermione, that’s what got me through the war. I survived so that I might have a chance with her someday, not so that I could be with you again.”

He distanced himself emotionally as he spoke, cutting himself off from the overwhelming emotions radiating from the others, and so, when tears welled in Ginny’s eyes, he felt nothing but a sense of satisfaction at finally having cleared the air.

“You can’t mean that, Harry. You said – at Dumbledore’s funeral, you said you’d come back for me.”

He shook his head. “No, I didn’t.”

She reached out for him and he quickly stepped out of her reach. “Harry, please, you know this isn’t how you want things to be. You don’t want things to end between us.”

“Things between us ended a long time ago, Ginny. There’s nothing there anymore and there won’t be again. I’m marrying Hermione.”

Seeing that she wasn’t making any progress with Harry, the young redhead turned her attention to Hermione, fixing her with a fierce glower. “You backstabbing, traitorous bitch,” she bit out. “I thought you were my friend, I thought you were trying to help me. You gave me advice on how to make Harry notice me and for what? So you could go after him for yourself the minute he was away from me? Forget that you had your own bloody boyfriend, all you really cared about was trapping the Boy-Who-Lived.”

Hermione shook her head sadly. “No, Ginny. I didn’t go after the Boy-Who-Lived, I’ve never wanted the Boy-Who-Lived. I wanted Harry, I will always want just Harry and that’s the difference between you and me. That’s why my relationship with Harry will last and yours didn’t because I’ve never seen him as a hero or a celebrity, someone to chase just because of his status. Harry’s never been a trophy to me, but that’s all he was to you.”

Ginny scoffed, her face red with anger. “You have no idea how wrong you are. You don’t know anything, you’re nothing but a whore. A dirty, worthless whore.”

“Get out,” Harry ordered, his voice low and dangerous, his eyes sparking with electricity.

Ginny turned her shocked gaze to him. “What? You’re kidding. You aren’t actually choosing her over me?”

“Get out,” he raged, magic bursting from him in his anger causing the fire to flare in the fireplace and the front door to bang open.

The Weasley women couldn’t quite manage to hide their fear and, with final disdainful looks at the couple, gave in and left before they angered the young pair further. As the moved to the door, Hermione put a quelling hand on Harry’s arm and moved to his side.

“If Ron has something he wants to say,” Hermione called out, “tell him to come to us himself. We won’t listen to you again.”

Mrs. Weasley opened her mouth to remark but thought better of it in the face of Harry’s anger. They were barely out the door when it slammed shut behind them.

Hermione turned to Harry and wrapped her arms tightly around him, pulling his head down to her shoulder; she immediately felt his tears wet her collar. The fire died down in the fireplace as Harry’s anger abated.

“Shhh,” she whispered soothingly. “Don’t listen to a word they said, sweetheart. You are nothing like those retched muggles, you and I both know that. She was just trying to hurt you.”

“She did a good job of it,” he tried to joke.

Hermione pulled away and gently cupped his face in her hands. “You are without doubt the nicest, most caring, gentlest man that I have ever met. No one is less like the Dursleys than you. I know, Harry. I’ve met them and I know what they did to you, how they treated you and I am endlessly amazed at the man you’ve become in the face of all that. Who you are is no reflection of how they treated you, you are so much better than them.”

He nodded his head absently, clearly not accepting what she was telling him and she knew she had a fair bit of work ahead of her to convince him once again that he was nothing like the Dursleys. She silently cursed Mrs. Weasley for even thinking such a thing let alone saying it to Harry.

She pulled him down for a brief and tender kiss and felt his need for her love and comfort. “I want you to forget what Ginny and Mrs. Weasley said, Harry. I know it won’t be easy, but you have to remember that they’re angry and they didn’t mean what they were saying. You know how they get, you how irrational they can be.”

He sniffled softly and tightened his arms around her. “I never knew what it was like to feel like I’d disappointed my mother. I never would have thought that it could hurt this much.”

She ran her hand through his hair, using her other arm to hold him to her. “I have disappointed my mother several times, Harry, and she has never once attacked me the way Mrs. Weasley did you. That is not how a mother reacts and certainly not how a mother punishes her children. She was vindictive and cruel and you did not deserve the things either of them said to you.”

“She’s the only mother I’ve ever known, Hermione. I can’t just forget what she said, how she acted.”

Hermione appeared thoughtful for a moment. “I think it’s time I introduced you to another mum. We’ll go to my parents for dinner and we can kill two birds with one stone, so to speak.”

Harry frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Well, I have yet to tell my parents that Ron and I are no longer together and that you and I are now engaged. And you can see how parents really are because my parents would never treat either of us like the Weasleys did.” She grinned happily and lightly poked his chest. “Besides, it’s time my parents met their future son-in-law. They’re going to love you and I’ll be surprised if they don’t insist that you call them mum and dad from the start.”

Harry’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Really?”

She nodded happily. “Dad’s always wanted a son. He’s going to drive you mad with all the things he’ll want to do with you.”

Harry smiled, getting into it and imagining what it might be like. “Like what?”

“Oh, he absolutely loves football, but Mum and I can’t stand it. He’ll make you go to every game all season if you’ll let him.”

Though the pain from Mrs. Weasley’s words would remain for some time, Harry felt happiness grow within him as Hermione told him what it would be like to be part of her family.

“He’ll sneak you away to the pub at the holidays so Mum can’t guilt him into helping her cook. He’ll joke with you about… well, whatever it is men joke about when their wives are listening. And he’ll complain to you about how long it takes Mum and me to get ready to go out.”

He pulled her to him for a tight hug. “It sounds perfect.”

She pulled back to look at him. “And they’ll never judge you or make you feel like you’re not part of the family. They’ll accept you and love you just because I do and that’s all that will matter to them.”

“I can’t wait to meet them,” he told her softly and lowered his head to kiss her.

After a moment of silence while they just enjoyed holding each other, Hermione spoke again. “And Ron will come around, he’ll talk to us when he’s ready. As for Mrs. Weasley and Ginny, it’s for you to decide whether you want to forgive them and let things go back to the way they were.”

He shook his head sadly. “I don’t think things will ever be the way they were. I just can’t picture a day that I won’t be able to recall what they said to you or to me.”

“Then that’s their own fault, isn’t it? They brought that on themselves and they’ll just have to live with it.”

“Yes, but so will I.”

She brushed his hair back from her forehead. “I’m so angry with them for what they said to you, Harry. They had no right to react the way they did.”

He smiled gently. “I’ll be okay, Hermione.”

“I know you will, but that doesn’t mean that I’ll ever forgive them, whether you do or not.”

“I know,” he sighed and touched his forehead to hers. “But let’s not think about them any longer. I’d much rather meet your parents, maybe even celebrate our engagement now that we’re home.”

She grinned saucily. “If the celebration you have in mind is anything like the celebrating we did last night, then I say we forget about my parents for tonight and get straight to the festivities.”

Harry laughed lightly and kissed her deeply. “Delayed gratification is so much better, love, all that build-up from just thinking about it makes it so much sweeter.”

“Is that so?”

“Oh yes,” he teased.

“Well then, we’ll visit very very briefly with my parents before we beg off to celebrate. We can work on how long we delay our gratification another time. You have one hour with my parents and then we’re coming back here and I don’t care if I have to tell them that I want to shag you senseless if that’s what it’ll take to get you out of there.”

He laughed again. “I think that if you told them that, they may never allow me to visit again.”

“More time to gratify ourselves,” she instantly replied, drawing a deep laugh from him.

“It’s all about sex with you, isn’t it?”

She leered at him, looking him over head to toe. “I don’t think anyone could hold that against me, Harry.”

He was unable to fight the blush that rose in his cheeks. “Hold yourself together there, Granger. We are going to your parents’ house.”

She sighed. “Fine, but you’ll have to make it up to me.”

His kiss took her by surprise and she moaned loudly as his tongue parted her lips to slip into her mouth.

“I promise,” he replied when he pulled back, leaving her breathless and a little dazed. “Now let’s go.”

* * *

“I’ve been thinking,” Harry said as he cleared his supper dishes from the table, setting them to wash themselves in the sink.

It had been several days since they’d had dinner with Hermione’s parents; days that they’d spent moving Hermione’s possessions into Harry’s flat and hiding away from the world. While they hadn’t heard again from the Weasleys and hadn’t seen or heard from Ron at all, the press had been hounding them non-stop since they’d returned from Stratford and they’d finally had to resort to taking out a court order to keep them away from the house.

Hermione had been right, as usual; her parents had loved Harry instantly and had been overjoyed at their engagement announcement. Her father had pulled Harry aside the first chance he’d had and sat him down for a brief talk about Harry’s intentions towards Hermione followed by a long discussion about Quidditch and football. Harry’d never felt more welcome and accepted in his life. He couldn’t wait to become an official part of their family.

“That’s never a good thing,” Hermione teased.

Harry scowled playfully as he took her dishes from her. “Better watch what you say, my dear, I think you may just like what I’ve been thinking about.”

She grinned and leaned back in her chair, watching him as he went about cleaning the kitchen. “Is that so? Well, don’t keep me in suspense, Harry.”

“Well, I’ve been thinking that it’s been several days – almost a week - since I asked you to marry me and you so kindly agreed and we’ve yet to discuss the wedding. You did say that you didn’t want to wait long, didn’t you?”

“Yes,” she agreed, “I did. We took so long to finally get things together and come to our senses, I don’t fancy wasting any more time.”

“Agreed. So, how about we finally set a date?”

She smiled widely, giddiness welling inside of her at the prospect of finally being with Harry. “Wonderful idea, honey. Do you have any period in mind? When are your holidays?”

He pulled his chair around the table to sit beside her and took her hand in his. “My holidays are anytime I want them. I talked to Shacklebolt, told him that we wanted to marry very soon, but I don’t have holidays for another two months. He told me to let him know what date we chose and he’d arrange a week or two of vacation for me.”

“Anytime we choose,” Hermione questioned, surprised at Shacklebolt’s generosity.

“Anytime at all,” he assured. “You just have to choose when. So how long will it take us to get everything in order?”

She grinned again. “Us?”

Harry seemed taken aback. “Of course us. You didn’t think I was going to leave all the planning up to you, did you? This is my wedding too, love, and I want to be involved in all of it, the planning and all. I’d never expect you to do it all, that’s too much for one person.”

She squeezed his hand and looked at him appreciatively. “I always think I know you, Harry, that you couldn’t possibly surprise me, but you always do. You’re so completely untypical that I simply can’t get over it.”

“Is that a bad thing? To not be typical?”

She kissed him lightly on the mouth. “Not at all. It’s so refreshing. Most men wouldn’t even think of taking part in planning their wedding. It’s quite a relief to know that you want to be part of it, that I won’t have to do it all.”

He brushed his fingers over the palm of her hand, moving them to slip between hers. “I want to be part of it all, I want our wedding to be a compromise of the things we both want.”

“Good. I’m glad.”

He kissed her briefly. “Good. Now, when do we want to get married?”

She thought for a moment, going over the picture she’d had in her mind for years already. “I’d prefer a small ceremony, just family and our closest friends. I’ve never really liked big weddings. It should be private… intimate.”

He smiled. “I agree, but, since the Weasleys aren’t too happy with us at the moment, I don’t think they’d… contribute to the happy celebrations too much, don’t you think?”

She nodded dismally, knowing that if the Weasleys attended at all they’d likely just harass the couple and ruin the entire event.

“Right, so would it be okay with you if we only invited your parents and Remus and Tonks?”

“And Ron,” she added.

Harry sighed. “He won’t come.”

She clasped both his hands tightly, gazing at him hopefully. “Maybe not, but we have to try, Harry. He’s our best friend; I don’t think it will feel right if he isn’t there. It’s our wedding, surely he’ll put aside his feelings long enough for that.”

He shook his head slowly. “I don’t think he will. You know Ron, love, he likes to hold grudges. He’s not going to forgive something like this so quickly.”

“Harry,” she began quietly.

He held up a hand to quiet her. “But,” he paused for a moment. “But that doesn’t mean we won’t try. Of course we’ll send him an invitation. We’ll send as many as you want, but I don’t think we should get our hopes up. I really don’t think he’ll come.”

She tugged at his hands, pulling him into a tight hug. “Thank you, Harry.”

He smoothed his hand over her hair, using his other to hold her tight. “Of course, Hermione. But please don’t let your hopes get too high, I don’t want to see you hurt.”

As she pulled away, she pressed her lips to his cheek. “I know. Whether he’s there or not, it’s our day and I won’t let anything ruin that.”

He moved the backs of his fingers over her cheek in a familiar caress. “Good. Now how about a date? How long do we need?”

“Well,” she began thoughtfully. “Not too long, I don’t think. Neither of us are religious, so I’d prefer not to hold it in a church. I’d rather be married outdoors if we can. Oh,” she cried excitedly. “Wouldn’t it be wonderful if we could be married at Hogwarts? It’s the most meaningful place in both our lives, it would be perfect.”

He smiled, getting pulled in by her excitement. “It would be fantastic, but what about your parents? They can’t even see it, how would they get there?”

She grinned in the way she always had when she had to remind him or Ron about something painfully clear. “They were at our graduation, sweetheart, we’ll just have to make some arrangements with Professor McGonagall. I’m sure she’ll be happy to do whatever’s required.”

He nodded. “I’m sure she will.”

“Wonderful. Aside from that, I need a dress and you need a suit or robes, whichever you prefer.”

“Definitely a suit. I’ve never really been fond of wizarding wear, it’s not really me, you know?”

“I know and I agree. I was hoping you’d want a suit. You look so much better in a suit, so sexy.”

He grinned wickedly. “Really?”

“Oh yes,” she breathed, doing unmentionable things to Harry with those two simple words, so reminiscent of how she sounded in bed with him. She moved her hands over his chest, her eyes following their slow progression. “Suits fit your body so well, robes are just too lose. And you have such a nice body to show off, it’d be a shame to hide it under those robes.”

He bit back a groan and moved his hands to cover hers, holding them to his chest. “Slow down, gorgeous, before I get carried away.”

“I certainly wouldn’t complain if you got carried away, it’s been far too long since we had sex.” She moved in to kiss his neck, gently sucking at the sensitive skin.

This time he couldn’t stop the groan building in his chest. “Yes,” he breathlessly replied, “a whole seven hours.”

She pulled back to give him an incredulous look. “Are you complaining that I want you?”

His laugh was husky as he pulled her into his lap so she could feel exactly what she was doing to him. “I would never complain about that, I’m not mental. And I promise to get completely carried away just as soon as you pick a date for our wedding.”

She ran her lips over his neck as she thought, mentally calculating how long it would take them to arrange things with the headmistress and to get their attire. “Two weeks,” she finally answered.

It took him a moment to pull himself together enough to process what she’d said. “Two weeks?”

She sucked lightly at the tender spot just behind his left ear and felt his arms tighten around her in response. “Yes, two weeks. That should give us plenty of time to prepare.”

“You’re sure?” While she was distracted with her thoughts, he dove down to her neck, giving her the same treatment she’d dealt him.

She moaned softly. “Completely. We’ll marry on July 3. It’s perfect, school is finished for the summer, the castle will be empty, the weather will hopefully be warm and sunny and we can go wherever we like for our honeymoon because all the resorts will be open.”

He grinned and kissed her lingeringly. “Brilliant. But I was thinking that we could go to the Potter Estate for our honeymoon. You’ve never been there, but I’m sure you’ll love it. It’s on several hundred acres of private land, there’s a fairly large lake on the land and all but a small portion of land around the house is wooded. It’s beautiful. And no one knows it even exists, so we don’t have to worry about the press tracking us down.”

“Sounds wonderful,” she said, already anticipating hiding away with him.

“And we can buy a hammock on the way.”

She laughed happily until he silenced her with a deep kiss.

“So it’s set, we’ll send out the invites tomorrow and shop around for our clothes.”

“And that won’t take long,” she told him. “I just want a simple dress, something lovely, but not overly fancy.”

He kissed her again. “Get whatever you want, Mione, money isn’t ever going to be an issue for us.”

She brushed her nose against his. “I know, but I still want something elegant but simple.”

“Okay.”

She grinned mischievously. “Now that we’ve got everything settled, I believe there was a promise of getting completely carried away.”

He laughed quietly ad pulled her tightly against him again, kissing her lingeringly and passionately. “I think you’re right.”

“Of course I am,” she said haughtily. “Now what are you going to do about it?”

Rather than answering her, he pulled her into a heated kiss and slowly stood from his chair, holding her securely in his arms as she wrapped her legs around his waist, losing herself in him as he carried her to their bedroom.

* * *

He stood on the porch for a moment, ignoring the rain pouring down on him, soaking him through. He stared at the numbers on the door, gathering his strength and preparing himself for what lay ahead. It did not promise to be easy, quite the opposite and even worse as apologizing had never been easy for him and begging was something he’d never done. But it would be worth it, if only he could get her back in his life in some context, any context, it would be worth it.

So, with that thought in his mind, he took the final step to the door and raised his hand to knock before he lost his nerve. He stepped back again and wiped the rain from his face. It seemed like eternity before she opened the door and he found himself checking all the windows, looking for any sign of movement and finding none. Finally, he heard the locks turn and his heart picked up tempo in response. As the door eased open, he glanced over his shoulder, looking down the walkway and mentally gauging how long it would take him to sprint down it and apparate away if things went badly.

He heard a gasp behind him and turned to see her standing in the doorway, lit from behind by the hallway light, a hand pressed to her mouth and her eyes wide with the surprise of finding him on her doorstep. He found himself unable to speak as he looked at her for the first time in a week.

“Ron,” her voice was soft, without anger and for the first time all night, he felt hope that maybe everything wasn’t lost afterall. “What… uh, what are you doing here? I didn’t expect to see you… ever actually. The way you left things between us, I thought that was it.”

His heart twisted in his chest and he asked himself for possibly the millionth time in the past week what he had done and what he had been thinking when he’d done it. He’d let his anger and jealousy overtake him again and this time it may well have cost him everything that really mattered in his life.

He opened his mouth to ask if he could come in out of the rain as he’d started shivering but wasn’t sure if it was because of the rain or her presence, but instead of asking to get out of the rain or maybe saying something funny to lighten the mood, he found himself stumbling over words as he tried to apologize and beg her forgiveness at once.

“I-I’m sorry, Hermione. I’m so sorry. I’ve been the biggest idiot in all of England and I’ve spent months feeling sorry for myself and trying to stay mad at you when I had no right to be mad in the first place. I understand now. I do. I hated hearing it from Harry, hearing why you wouldn’t marry me from someone who had no part in our relationship

“I’ve been so angry for so long and I tried to convince myself that I was angry with you and-and Harry because you went behind my back and I thought that you were just using me, that you were playing with me for some reason that I couldn’t understand. But you have to know that I loved you, Hermione, I thought you were it for me and I thought you felt the same. It hurt so much to know that you’d been with Harry for so long behind my back and I reacted horribly. I’ve always had a horrible temper, always acted without thinking, you know that. I just couldn’t help it, I couldn’t stop myself. And I kept telling myself that I had every right to treat you like I did and that you couldn’t possibly expect me to ever answer your owls or forgive you for what you and Harry did to me,” he stopped and drew a deep, fortifying breath. He’d been looking everywhere but at her as he spoke, worried at what her expression might tell him and as he trailed off he finally turned his eyes to her and found her crying and watching him and, to his great relief, she didn’t look the least bit angry or liked she’d like nothing more than to hex him.

“I was wrong,” he said. “I should’ve let you guys say what you had to say. I shouldn’t have blocked you out like I did. I came here to tell you that I’m sorry, Hermione. I’m sorry for what I said to you and for the way I acted and I’m sorry that I never gave you and Harry a chance to explain things to me. I know you tried to get my family to talk to me and you tried to send me owls and I ignored it all. And I’m sorry for that. I’m sorry I let this go on for so long when you two clearly wanted to work things though. I’m here to ask you to forgive me and ask if maybe you’ll be my friend again.” He moved towards her, so close he could reach out and touch her if he ever got the nerve. “Please, Hermione,” he continued in a soft voice. “Please forgive me.”

“Hermione,” a voice called from inside the apartment. “Are you coming? The movie’s all ready to go and the popcorn’s getting cold.”

Hermione glanced over her shoulder quickly before turning her attention back to the wet man on her doorstep.

Ron couldn’t ignore the surprise or the wave of pain that rushed him. “You’re still with him?”

Her brows furrowed. “Of course,” she replied as though it were the only possible answer. “I love him and I intend to always be with him.”

He nodded absently, looking down at his feet. “Right, of course. It’s just… well I thought that maybe you’d break up with him.”

She scowled at him and crossed her arms over her chest. “Why would I do that? Because you don’t like us being together? That’s a rather childish idea, Ron. I’m not going to change my life to make things more comfortable for you.”

His eyes narrowed as he stared at her, looking like he wanted to be angry with her and argue, but he didn’t. “No. No, of course not. I thought… but it was stupid.”

“Yes, if you expected me to leave Harry because you don’t like that I’m with him, then it was very stupid.”

He sighed. “Look, Hermione, I came here to apologize and ask you to forgive me, not to argue with you on your doorstep.”

She studied him with a calculating eye, weighing his sincerity.

“Hermione,” Harry called again, “what are you doing?”

That seemed to make her decision for her and she stepped back from the door. “Come in, Ron. I imagine Harry would like to hear what you have to say as well.”

His features hardened at the mention of the other man’s name, but he entered the apartment nonetheless and only flinched slightly when she pulled her wand and waved it over him, instantly drying his clothes.

She observed him carefully as he toed off his filthy shoes and nervously patted down his hair. When he looked at her anxiously and opened his mouth to speak, she shook her head and moved towards the living room of her flat. As they neared the doorway, Ron could see the flickering light of the television that she’d always insisted on having as a connection to her muggle heritage though she rarely used it save to watch videos on stormy nights.

He fell behind as she entered the room, her eyes fixed on something out of his sight. He shifted uneasily on his feet, glancing over his shoulder to the door several times and continuously fighting the urge to flee before he had to face both his once best friends. He wondered again how he could have let this rift between him and his friends grow so wide and for so long. They’d once been so close and he’d let his anger and jealousy come between them again, how many times would it take before he finally learned that nothing was worth sacrificing their friendship over?

He listened as Hermione told Harry who had been at the door and winced when Harry demanded to know what he wanted, anger underlying his words. He tried not to hear their words as they talked in whispers, but the occasional word broke through to him and he could see them in his mind, Hermione no doubt touching Harry in some way, trying to calm him as she always did and Harry trying to hold onto his anger in the face of her care and tenderness and utterly failing, caving to her patience and kindness. He felt that old jealousy well within him again though he knew that he had no right to it, that, if he was honest with him himself, he knew he’d never had a right to because she was never his to feel jealous over.

When she returned to the doorway and beckoned him in, he hesitated a moment, wondering if it had been too long and too much for them to forgive him for.

Harry was standing behind the sofa and Ron found himself grateful for that barrier between them as he took in Harry’s hostile stance, his legs set wide and arms crossed over his chest, a deep scowl on his face and his eyes alight as he held himself back. Harry’s restraint was solely for Hermione’s sake, Ron knew for there was no doubt that Harry knew everything he had said to her in his rage and Ron knew that Harry must have been struggling within to keep himself from beating Ron to a bloody, ragged pulp.

Hermione moved to sit on the sofa in front of Harry, leaning forward and resting her arms on her legs and she watched Ron expectantly, waiting for him to say what he’d come to say.

He shifted his weight nervously, digging his hands deep into his pockets, the entire speech that he’d had planned out gone from his memory. What do you say to friends that you hadn’t spoken to in six months because you were to busy struggling to hang onto your anger and hurt to pull your head out of your arse and realise that, while, yes, they had been in the wrong, you were wrong as well.

The silence dragged on and the words were becoming steadily harder to grasp and the waves of anger coming from Harry weren’t helping the situation at all.

Hermione finally broke the oppressing silence. “Ron, do you really want to do this?”

He looked at her in surprise. “Of course I want to. I wouldn’t have come here otherwise.”

She shrugged. “Well, you seem to be having a difficult time thinking of something to say and it seems to me that if this was something that you truly wanted to do, if you really wanted to try to fix things between us, then you would have come here prepared to at least say something.”

He frowned at her. “I did have something to say, but it’s not so easy now that I actually have to say it. And Harry standing there glaring at me isn’t making it any easier,” he snidely replied, gesturing roughly at Harry.

“Sniping at us isn’t going to help your cause, Ron,” Harry told him, his voice hard and unforgiving. “You’ve had six months to say something to us and we’ve given you plenty opportunity. We’ve sent you owls, told your mother and Ginny to tell you to come talk to us when they showed up at my flat to attack us, even been to your Quidditch matches and you’ve been too much of a git to even say hello. So don’t try to put this on us because we’ve tried.”

Ron looked away, his nervousness returning. “I know,” he said softly. “You’re right. I’ve had plenty of chances and I haven’t taken a single one. But I’m here now.”

Harry snorted. “Standing in our living room and doing nothing doesn’t really count for much.”

From the corner of his eye, Ron saw Hermione turn to scowl at Harry. “You’re certainly not helping matters, Harry. We all had a hand in this problem, we should all help to fix it.”

He looked down at her. “I don’t know if it can be fixed, Mione. It’s been six months.”

She sighed and reached out a hand to touch his arm. “I know that, love. We can never go back, but we can try to make things better between us.”

“He missed our wedding, Mione, because he was too bloody pigheaded to even open our letters.”

Ron’s head shot up, his eyes fixing on the couple before him. “Wedding? You-you’re married?”

Hermione turned back to him. “Yes, Ron, for nearly six months now.”

He calculated the time in his head and felt his anger flare again when he realized that they’d married shortly after their fallout. He opened his mouth to snap at them, make some snide comment about how she certainly hadn’t waited long after breaking his heart to marry the first get that came along. He looked at them, the way Harry was still glowering at him and the somewhat hopeful look on Hermione’s face and felt the emptiness inside of him that had been there since he’d walked out of her flat that day six months ago.

He shook his head, his gaze becoming unfocused as his attention turned to his thoughts. “I didn’t know,” he muttered absently.

His best friends had married and he’d had no idea. Had he really been such an idiot that he’d missed his best friends’ wedding? Sorrow washed through him as he wondered what other life-changing and meaningful events he had missed in their lives because of his own stupidity.

“We tried to tell you, Ron,” Hermione said. “We sent you several owls and more than one invitation. We even asked Remus and Tonks to tell you about it if they happened to see you, but they told us that you would just become angry and turn away whenever they mentioned us.”

He rubbed the back of his neck. “I can’t believe I missed it. Someone should have made me listen, they should’ve made sure I knew about something like that.”

Hermione’s eyes narrowed. “You’re a grown man, Ron, you should’ve been mature enough to get past your anger rather than snap at everyone who ever mentioned our names. It’s no one’s responsibility to make you listen when you make it perfectly clear that you’ve no desire to hear what they have to say.”

He moved jerkily as he started to pace their living room and ran a hand roughly through his hair. “Dammit, Hermione, I know that, but I missed your wedding.”

“Don’t you curse at her,” Harry snapped loudly. “It’s your own bloody fault, isn’t it? You’ve no one to blame but yourself. You bloody well knew that we were engaged, did you not expect us to get married?”

Ron spun to face him. “I didn’t expect you to be together to begin with, why would I expect you to marry her?”

“Because I asked her to marry me, you stupid prat,” Harry replied hotly, his voice steadily rising. “What did you think that meant? Or did you just think we’d put our lives on hold until you pulled your fat head out of your bloody arse?”

“I didn’t expect my best mates to get married without me,” Ron shouted, his face quickly going red with anger.

“You made it perfectly clear before you left that we were no friends of yours and I certainly wasn’t going to sit back and wait for you to come around.”

“Of course not, you just couldn’t wait to get her to yourself. Didn’t even wait until I was out of the picture, did you? You’re nothing but a-“

Hermione jumped up from the sofa and put an end to their arguing before Ron could tell Harry just what he was. “Enough,” she cried. “That’s enough.” She turned on Ron, fire in her eyes. “You said that you came here to apologize, Ron, if that’s not true, if you’ve no intention of trying to make things right, then just leave now because I will not stand here and listen to you two fight. Harry and I have put up with enough hostility from you and we’re just not going to do it anymore.” She paused briefly to calm herself. “We’ve tried, Ron, we’ve tried to apologize again and again and you refused to hear us. And now you’re standing in our living room having told us that you want to apologize to us and we’re willing to hear you, but all you seem to want to do is attack us again. If that’s all you came here for, you can just leave.”

He at least had the grace to look shamed. “You’re right,” he conceded. “I’m sorry.”

“That’s it,” Harry demanded. “That’s all you have to say? After everything you’ve put us through for the last six months do you really think that’s enough?”

Ron frowned. “No, Harry, I don’t think that’s enough, but I don’t know what else to say.”

“How about you tell Hermione that you’re sorry for calling her a slag? Tell her that you were a right bloody prick for treating her the way you did and that you had no right to ever say anything of the sort to her. Why don’t you fucking beg her to forgive you for being such a pigheaded bastard?”

“Harry,” Hermione began softly.

He looked to her. “No, Hermione,” he said gently. “He owes you much more than that, but you’ll never get it. The least he can do is apologize for what he called you.”

She opened her mouth to speak, but Ron cut her off. “He’s right, Hermione. I was a pigheaded bastard and I had no right to ever speak to you the way I did. Can you ever forgive me for it?”

She looked at him, surprised at his sincerity and his evident shame in his own behaviour. “Ron, all you ever had to do was apologize.”

A tentative smile played around his mouth as he looked at her, incredulous in her ability to forgive him so easily. Looking at Harry it was clear that he wasn’t the only one surprised at her quick forgiveness. Harry felt his gaze and turned his attention from his wife to his once friend and shook his head.

“It won’t be nearly that easy with me. Hermione may forgive you and that’s her decision, I won’t interfere with it, but you’re going to have to do more than apologize to get my forgiveness for what you did to her. You weren’t here to see what she went through when you left. You don’t know what you did to her, I do and I won’t ever forgive you for that.”

Hermione frowned at her husband and Ron nodded slowly. “I can understand that.”

Harry finally seemed to relax. “Then I think maybe we can get past this.”

Ron appeared surprised. “Really?”

Harry thought about it for a moment before answering. “Yeah, really.”

They heard a quiet sniffle and looked over to see Hermione wiping tears from her cheeks, a small smile on her face. “Finally,” she breathed.

Harry smiled and moved around the sofa to take her in his arms, holding her tightly and pressing a kiss to her forehead. As Ron watched them, he couldn’t get over how right they looked together.

He cleared his throat lightly to gain their attention. “Would you tell me about your wedding?”

Hermione wiped at her tears and smiled brightly. “Of course, Ron. We’ve hundreds of photos of it if you’d like to see them.”

Ron smiled tentatively. “I’d like that.”

As Hermione pulled out several large photo albums, Ron caught Harry’s eye. While he still didn’t look overly welcoming or forgiving, his slight nod gave Ron hope. Hermione took Harry’s hand and pulled him down to the sofa beside her and gestured for Ron to sit on her other side. He did gladly and focused on Hermione as she excitedly told him all the details of her and Harry’s wedding.

* * *

Hey everyone,

I hope that you enjoyed this story and please review it.

This author’s note is to let any of you who might be waiting for the promised sequel to Hardest Thing. I have begun to re-write the sequel and have decided to take it in a different direction all together. It looks promising so far, should be rather interesting for you to read. I’m working a lot of graveyards this month, so I’ll have ample time to work on it. However, at the moment I’m suffering a bit of writer’s block concerning it, which is probably due to the complete lack of sleep that I’ve been getting lately as well as the unbelievably hot weather that prevents me from sleeping when I get home in the mornings.

Anyway, I hope to start posting the sequel to Hardest Thing by August, but I can’t make any promises because you just never know what life will bring. Fingers crossed that the writing goes well.

Thanks for reading and, again, please review.

Until next time,

Blissful