A/N: I pre-apologize for the surplus of commas in this chapter. I have been reading all Jane Austen lately and can only blame that.
Where Elizabeth Stood
Chapter 6---Both Sides Now
"I object."
The words hung heavily in the silence, followed by gasps from the guests. But it was not Hermione who had spoken.
It was Elizabeth.
The master of ceremonies sighed and resignedly closed his book; this sort of thing probably was not new to him. But Harry looked at the woman he was about to have married and spluttered, "What?" in genuine incredulity.
Elizabeth turned to him and brought her head near his. Hermione just caught the words, "I'm so sorry," before the bride faced her and said in a surprisingly steady, "I need to talk to you."
And without waiting for any response, Elizabeth grabbed Hermione's free hand and started dragging her back up the aisle past all of the bewildered guests. Hermione had no time to recover from the shock of what had just taken place, but somewhere deep inside her unbridled feelings of joy that the wedding had been prevented without her having to sacrifice her friendship with Harry began to stir. She looked back at where the man in question was still rooted to his spot by the altar, staring at their retreating forms as she was led up the aisle by Elizabeth's firm hand.
They reached the doors to the foyer and with a deft flick of a wand that seemed to have materialized from nowhere, Elizabeth shut and locked the doors behind them. Hermione eyed the piece of wood warily, but Elizabeth did not seem intent on harming her. For several moments Elizabeth said nothing, but voices of concern and insistent poundings on the doors seemed to bring Elizabeth out of a certain contemplation.
Hermione waited with some anxiety for her to speak, but when she did, it was not the harsh accusations or angry outbursts that a guilty conscience had caused her to expect.
"Hermione, I'm sorry, I've been so stupid," she began, a heartfelt expression on her face but that same calm tone she always had.
This did nothing to alleviate Hermione's confusion. Elizabeth's composure seemed entirely inappropriate for having just objected to her own wedding. "What are you talking about? What have you got to be sorry for?"
The red head sighed and looked deeply into Hermione's face for a short time before replying. "I know you love him, Hermione," she said matter-of-factly.
Hermione involuntarily took a step backward. Instinct and years of self-denial elicited an instant response. "Don't be ridiculous, Elizabeth, Harry and I are just friends and always have been."
Elizabeth gave a hollow sort of laugh. "Anyone else might be convinced by that Hermione, but not me. You've hidden yourself well, but I've seen it in your face, in your smile, in your concerned expression when Harry seems to be holding back something. You love him, of that I am sure."
She stared steadily at Hermione, who was secretly annoyed that her feelings had been so terribly obvious to everyone. She wondered if she had a sign saying she loved Harry stuck to her back; that Elizabeth, Ginny, and Ron of all people could decipher the feelings she had thought she'd kept so perfectly hidden did not say much for her acting ability.Eventually, she crumpled under the weight her own duplicity and said in a mechanical voice designed to keep her tears at bay, "But why stall your wedding? You know me well enough to know that I would never act on my feelings."
Elizabeth suddenly engulfed her in a hug, though the women's skirts were wide and she had to lean in to reach Hermione. But it was a much different embrace than the one that she had received when she had accepted the Maid of Honor position. Somehow through this one, Hermione thought Elizabeth had understood something.
Elizabeth pulled back and Hermione was surprised to see red rimming the black of her eyes. "Sometimes, at night, Harry cries out in his sleep, cursing demons that by morning he swears don't exist. I catch him at moments looking into mirrors as though expecting to see something besides a reflection. I know he loves his job, but he won't discuss it with me, as if bringing his work home with him might sabotage our little semblance of normality.
"Hermione," she said, looking at her fiercely, "he needs someone who understands him, who already knows why he can't stand mushrooms or why he insisted on removing all of the chandeliers in Number 12. He belongs with you, I'm sure of it, you're the only one who's been with him through everything. I meant what I said earlier by the window. I love Harry, very, very much, which is why I have to say goodbye to him now."
Hermione had been dumbstruck by her speech, only then fully comprehending Elizabeth's pain at not being included in Harry's past or his present. How could she have hoped to be part of his future?
The pounding on the door grew louder and both women turned at the sound of a certain voice demanding to be let into the foyer. Wordlessly, Elizabeth acquiesced, and Harry tumbled roughly onto the carpet at their feet before the solid wood doors banged shut and prevented any unwanted company.
Harry scrambled up and ran a hand through his already disheveled hair, hardly glancing at Hermione at all as he rushed to Elizabeth's side and said, "Lizzie, what the hell is going on?"
The brunette felt all the pain of going unnoticed or ignored.
She trained her warm black eyes on him and said, "Harry, I'm so sorry, but I don't think I can do this."
Hermione stepped back without realizing it, giving the couple the chance to work things out. With Harry's confused "But why not?" Hermione was certain that Elizabeth had been mistaken in her interpretation of Harry's feelings. At that moment, Hermione wished she could have been anyone else but the witness of Harry's declarations of love to another woman.
Smiling sadly, Elizabeth replied, "You know why, Harry. We could never make each other happy. Sure, these years have been great, wonderful actually, but I don't believe that either of us thought that we really belong together. You've been through things I couldn't possibly comprehend, and though I don't blame you for it, you never let me in. You know I'm right."
His expression changed at once, and Hermione recognized this as a reference to a discussion of which she had not been a part.
"I knew that you would never say anything," Elizabeth went on, this time with a glance at Hermione as though the comment was also aimed at her. "So I took it out of your hands. Just make sure that none of this was in vain."
With that she gave a frowning Harry one last kiss on the cheek and stepped back from him.
"Where will you go?" he asked with a deflated tone. Hermione felt herself drawn to him, wanting to somehow ease her own guilt by offering him comfort, but he seemed more composed than someone who was not in agreement with the bride's reasons for withdrawing ought.
Elizabeth shrugged but her countenance showed a trace of true yet respectfully withheld excitement. Hermione knew that Elizabeth's situation with her family was not such that she should expect open arms and Hermione wondered how the red head would recover.
"I've always wanted to live by the sea," she said lightly as though discussing less than a life-changing decision. Her smile faded as she turned to fully regard Harry and Hermione. "I am sorry, Harry. I wish that I had had better timing than this. I can't imagine what the papers are going to print," she said solemnly.
Harry waved a hand and said, "Sod the papers." With one last grasp of Elizabeth's hand, he whispered enigmatically, "You really do understand me, you know."
She returned a watery smile and made to leave, beckoning for Hermione to follow her a little way out of Harry's earshot.
"You're both too noble for your own good, Hermione," she said once she judged it safe to speak.
Hermione gave a reluctant laugh. "Well, you seem to have picked it up as well. Are you sure you'll be okay?"
"I'm going to be fine, you said so yourself." She looked at Hermione warmly, surveying her as though trying to memorize what she looked like then because the next time they met, things would be different. Hermione noticed her gaze settling on the sapphire pendant, but she said nothing except, "I knew navy would be perfect."
With that pronouncement, Elizabeth Apparated, her faint pop echoing in the open space of the foyer. Hermione and Harry regarded each other, speechless, until at last they were interrupted by a groaning sound as the door separating them from reality was breached.
"Elizabeth! Oh, where is that girl? I swear someone should pin her down by the hem of her dress! Oh, that dress cost a fortune, when I get my hands on her-" shrieked Mrs. Prinsen, who was dragging Anne throughout the crowd hoping to catch a glimpse of Elizabeth's red hair. She was unlucky, however, as the Weasleys were also on the scene to ensure that Harry and Hermione were all right.
Thus, pressed in from all sides, Hermione and Harry stood staring at one another as though unsure that they had processed everything that had just taken place. Harry's bride had left him at the altar but refused to speak to anyone but her Maid of Honor, his best friend. Elizabeth knew something she, Hermione, did not, but with the onslaught of noise and bodies forcing past her, she thought this not the time nor place to try and get to the bottom of it.
"How strange that this should have happened," Hermione overheard Luna saying to Ron, "for I have often read that this equinox is the most lucky of all."
Ron laughed. "Oh, I think it still is," he replied, indicating his best friends in the middle of a swarm of wedding guests. "I think it most definitely is."
~*--Three years later--*~
The trio were seated languidly in their favorite spots around the drawing room fire-Harry and Hermione on the couch, and Ron in an armchair-still making the satisfied noises that accompany a pleasant meal. Harry had once again prepared dinner for his best friends in a tradition now attributed to the celebratory night before some big event.
Snow fell sedately past the tall windows and the massive Christmas tree in the corner was surrounded by more than just holiday presents.
Hermione gazed happily at Harry's relaxed profile, silhouetted against the flames. He caught her looking and returned a significant glance that to Hermione said, "If not for tomorrow, I could act as I wish right now," and made her blush accordingly.
There was something in the total and utter happiness that she felt at that moment-that she was even allowed to love Harry, to tell him so in actions if not words, and to have him, after years of painful wishing on that count, finally return that love, was something she would never become complacent to. The man that she loved, loved her, and she was fortunate to remember the exact moment that it had happened, a year and a half before.
~*~
Everyone-including the rather serene bride-agreed that the summer solstice really was the most beautiful day to wed. Hermione suppressed that ever-present urge to roll her eyes when reminded that that same bride, barely more than two years before, had insisted that the autumnal equinox was the luckiest day, and that it actually had not turned out to be so at all.
Hermione had spent the last several hours that morning helping Ginny-and subsequently being helped by Ginny-to minimize the hideousness of Luna's bridesmaids dresses, which even had managed to touch Hermione's weak vanity.
Luna had chosen bole, a color that until the first fitting, Hermione had not known to exist. As it was, the color turned out to the least of her worries, as Luna also had an interesting take on the cut of the dress and the jewelry that should be worn to protect the bridal party from the treazle fairies that lived inside wedding cakes and were responsible for general mischief.
Though the title of maid of honor fell to Ginny, Hermione still found herself preoccupied with plans for what would unquestionably be the most bizarre wedding she would ever attend.
Once again drawn into a ceaseless number of activities designed to alleviate the stress on the bride (although Hermione thought it was safe to say that "stress" and "Luna" were certainly words that would never occur naturally together in a sentence), Hermione could not help but remember the moments still fresh in the past when she had been doing exactly the same tasks.
Hermione had heard only once from Elizabeth Prinsen after the then-bride apparated from the foyer of the London hotel, and it was only a short note left presumably when the red head had come to collect her things from Number 12 renewing the reassurances she had made previously on the part of her own feelings for Harry, knowing where she stood in his life, and wishing them both very happy. The note also reminded her not to waste this opportunity-for lack of a better word-and make sure that Elizabeth's sacrifice had not been in vain.
But it vain it seemed to be, for following the wedding, Harry had withdrawn into himself, and though Hermione guessed there was more alluded to in his and Elizabeth's last conversation than she was privy to, Hermione was at a loss as to how to approach the subject with Harry. Now that she had the time she'd wanted, she had no idea what to say or do, and realized that the fact of his being taken before was a luxury to her in that she never had to entertain any serious thought as to how to win him. For the first time since she'd really been aware of those dearer feelings lurking just below the then untouched surface of her heart, Harry was attainable. And she was out of excuses.
For the first few months between Ron's proposal and the wedding, the unending list of tasks seemed to provide a legitimate reason for Hermione and Harry to avoid each other's company. That was Hermione's motive anyway, because Harry had become less warm toward her since Elizabeth had swept her up the aisle at his wedding. For being-or believing herself to be-the primary instrument of his unhappiness, Hermione was much aggrieved. And for her part, she still didn't know if the words "I object" would have finally made their way from her mouth if Elizabeth hadn't spoken first.
The day finally arrived for who would soon be known as Mr. and Mrs. Ronald Weasley. Hermione thought with the kind of mild amusement one feels when confronted with slightly embarrassing memories about how not six years before, she wouldn't have minded the name. But things change, she thought, a lesson she had to really grow up to learn properly.
And so she and Ginny were occupied with trying to assuage the dramatic effect that the bole bridesmaids dresses were bound to have. They debated as their wands worked whether an ornate hairstyle would detract or enhance the outrageousness of their appearance, all the while hoping that Luna wouldn't notice or be hurt their not very subtle modifications.
"A little less tulle in the skirt, I think, and then we're good to go," Ginny mused, waving her wand in a complicated movement that Vanished a portion of the undesirable material.
Wrinkling her nose at her reflection, Hermione said, "This is as good as it's probably going to get. Where's Luna?"
"Spewing in the loo I should think," said Ginny sarcastically. Neither she nor Hermione had ever seen such a calm bride on her wedding day. "I think she's talking to her father outside. We should probably go line up anyway."
Hermione nodded in agreement and followed the youngest Weasley out of the small bedroom they had been using to get ready.
Like Bill and George, Ron had continued the family tradition of marrying at the Burrow, something that both delighted and managed to nearly stress to death Mrs. Weasley. Luckily for her, Luna had very simple ideas in mind for the wedding, and her dreamy air often also made her amenable to any of her future mother-in-law's suggestions.
Hermione closed the door behind her and went with Ginny to meet the rest of groomsmen. Luna was there in a meringue-looking dress and a veil that swept the floor talking quietly to her father, who had thankfully adopted a much more subdued color palette for his dressrobes than at Bill and Fleur's wedding. There was a little stiffness on his part when he spotted Hermione, for their dealings in the past had not exactly been pleasant, but she returned a polite smile in his general direction. She spotted Neville looking rather suave in his dressrobes and grinning eagerly at Ginny's approach. And then she saw Harry.
Although he was wearing exactly the same robes as Neville-and Ron too, she added to herself, as an afterthought-somehow she had never thought him more handsome than at that moment. She hoped her feelings did not show on her face, but when her eyes rose to meet his, he looked away quickly and pretended to be studying a picture on the wall. Luck was not on his side however, because the picture he had hoped would come to his rescue in avoiding her in fact contained the pair of them as its principal subjects.
"We look so tired," he observed quietly at her approach.
"I suppose defeating Dark Lords take a lot out of one," was her half-joking reply. They continued to stare at the moving photograph in silence, until Harry seemed to remember himself and with a quick intake of breath turned toward her, gave a slight start, and promptly burst out laughing.
"Yeah, yeah, all right," she said, secretly pleased to have some smile from him at all, even if at her own expense. "I'll have you know that Luna says this is the color of constancy."
Harry was still only just managing his laughter. "You look like the trunk of a tree."
"Always what a girl wants to hear," she said, fighting to keep the indignant expression on her face. They hadn't spoken much lately, even the night before during their last night as an unmarried trio. Or rather, they had spoken a lot, but said very little.
Hermione soon found herself pressed against Harry's side as the entire wedding procession was sandwiched in the Burrow's tiny kitchen, waiting for their musical cue to step outside into the summer sunshine.
She chanced a glance at Harry, who was looking pensive again now that their humorous banter had subsided. But because she couldn't bear the silence, or waste the opportunity for conversation afforded by their closeness, she asked with real concern, "How's Ron doing?"
At this, Harry offered a wry smile, and with an actual look in her direction, answered, "As good as can be expected. The green face suits him well, compliments his hair."
Hermione took care to keep her laugh quiet, since the woman said green best friend was about to marry was standing about four feet behind her. The pair once again slipped into silence.
"No, but he's all right," said Harry after a long moment as though he hadn't stopped speaking, "If there's any woman out there that can make him happy, it's Luna." He spoke with such a wistful tone that Hermione could find nothing to add. "No offense," he added, seeming to just remember whom he was speaking to.
Hermione shrugged, the era when that comment might have stung having long passed. She was starting to feel uncomfortable; Harry being so close but so far away only served as a reminder of what a mess she was making of her life. And yet she had no idea what to do to fix it, she who was supposedly the brightest witch of her age. But luckily she was saved by Harry himself.
"Hermione, I have to tell you something," he said seriously. She immediately steeled herself-that statement was rarely accompanied by good news. "You know the necklace that I gave you for your birthday?"
She nodded absently, her hand unconsciously feeling along the visible part of the necklace's chain; the pendant was underneath the neckline of her hideous dress. He eyed her movements for a split second before coloring slightly and determinedly looking at her face.
"Well," he said, taking a deep breath. "It was from me."
She stared at him for a moment, expecting him to go on, before realizing that of course he had no idea that she had figured that out months before. It wasn't exactly a far leap. Once she had had time to actually reflect on Elizabeth's manner of seeing it and not recognizing it for what it was, Hermione was sure that for some reason Harry had pretended that bestowing of the present had been a joint effort. She only wondered why.
Abruptly they heard the magically amplified music for the procession start and Mrs. Weasley came to shepherd them all into place. Before she took her place in line beside Neville, she said, "Harry, I know."
He looked surprised, and almost nervous. "You do?"
"I do," she said simply, not wanting to invite him to speak more on a subject that was only sure to distress her. Maybe he thought that she had thanked Elizabeth for the gift, only to awaken the redhead's suspicion, and that was what had led to the unraveling of his relationship with her. Her head spun with scenarios, each as unlikely as the next. All she knew was that her other best friend was about to be married and Hermione forced herself to focus and pay attention to her movements so that her ability to ruin weddings did not become a pattern.
"Hermione," said Harry when the flower girl and ring bearer set off.
She looked up at him inquiringly; his tone was urgent and he looked on the brink of saying something when she heard her cue. Neville grasped her arm and with a regretful look that promised they would speak after the ceremony, she turned and headed toward the backdoor.
Suddenly, just as she was stepping out into the backyard of the Burrow, she felt Neville's arm slip from her own and be replaced with someone else's. "Harry, what are you doing!" she hissed through the smile she had plastered on her face for the guests. As best man, Harry was meant to walk down the aisle with Ginny, the Maid of Honor, and she did not think Mrs. Weasley would like this at all, after their numerous rehearsals.
"I had to talk to you," he hissed back by way of explanation, squeezing her arm.
"You couldn't have waited until after?" was her rhetorical reply. She wasn't sure why she was suddenly so annoyed with him, when all she had wanted for the past eighteen months was for him to talk to her. She was just afraid that somehow everything would turn out horribly.
Squeezing her arm again to slow her pace, he said, "It can't wait. Listen, I'm sorry I've been such a jerk since the wedding. I know it can't have been easy-"
"Harry, please," she begged, terrified at where this conversation would lead and that she wouldn't be able to maintain her composure, "can we please just talk about this later?"
But to her agitation, Harry seemed to have no inclination of leaving the topic he'd begun. She could only continue to measure her steps down the aisle, trying to keep her worry from showing on her face, but she doubted any Academy Award nominations were heading her way.
Harry was speaking urgently to her in an undertone that kept his impassioned words from reaching any of the wedding guests on either side of them. "Hermione, Ginny left me because I wouldn't talk to her about the war or my job or anything. Elizabeth-" He cut off for a moment and Hermione staggered slightly. It was the first time either of them had mentioned Elizabeth's name in the year and a half that she had been gone from their lives. How they avoided speaking it for so long was lost to her, but Harry had already gathered his composure and continued the speech with the uncertain destination. "Elizabeth felt much the same way. Neither of them were there for a lot of the war, neither of them could understand some of the things we had to do. And I didn't want them to have to, I wanted to keep them safe from that."
He paused and Hermione wondered if she ought to say something. She had absolutely no idea where he was going with this, and she could already feel her contented façade slipping-it didn't happen often that Harry Potter started opening his heart to you, and your own would have to be made of ice for it not to be touched by his words.
" And eventually they gave up trying to talk to me about it and accepted that I never would confide in them," he continued, speaking aloud words he probably had hardly ever allowed himself to think. The fact that he was confiding in her made her heart ache for him even more. " I wanted them to just get everything without me having to talk about it, I wanted them to get me without me having to explain it. I knew I was being selfish, I knew I couldn't have it both ways. But I was too afraid to leave them. What if no one could ever love me?"
There, that was it. That was what was worrying him on the day his best friend pledged himself to love and be loved for the rest of his life. "Oh, Harry," she said feelingly, turning to face him for the first time and squeezing his arm in sympathy.
He returned her look steadily, but with something in his eyes that she couldn't quite put a name to. "It was about a month before your birthday that I knew. I was just out walking and I saw the necklace and, I just knew. I knew with this weird certainty that it was meant to be yours." He had been speaking almost to himself, but at these last words, his eyes met hers and conveyed more meaning than words ever could. She hardly dared to hope.
But he wasn't finished explaining. His words came faster as he realized how far down the aisle they had already walked. "The saleslady told me it was the September birthstone, and that just made it seem more perfect. When I got it home, I hid it from Elizabeth, which had surprised me. I told myself that there was nothing about it that I should be hiding, it didn't mean anything. And then I thought that you might not like it, or that you would think that it was somehow inappropriate, so I told you that it was a gift from me and Elizabeth."
Now everything was clear. "This is about more than the necklace," she said quietly, as though hoping that if she were wrong then the wind would carry away her words. But the way he was looking at her…
"Yes, it was always more than that," he said ardently. "Hermione, I love you."
This time Hermione really did stumble. Harry held her arm tightly as they continued their journey down the aisle. "What?" was all she could manage. Now she could put a description to the expression she had seen in his eyes, for it was the same one as in her eyes every time they were directed his way.
"I love you, I have for a long time, even before I could really admit it to myself. I was trying so hard to hide it," he said, still looking at her and not really where they were going. There was a general rustling as the wedding guests seemed to become aware that the bridesmaid and best man were discussing something of importance.
"But…why?" she spluttered. She knew her own reasons for keeping her feelings to herself (or trying to anyway), but for the past year and a half Harry had had none of the same limitations.
"I don't know, I was just stupid maybe. I thought that even if you loved me too, somehow nothing would be different. I would still be unable to give you what I couldn't give Ginny or Elizabeth, and you deserve so much for than that. I would still be the same Harry, never enough of a man for anyone."
They stopped and faced each other uncertainly, having reached the altar at the end of the aisle. At the back of her mind, Hermione thought that they shouldn't be doing this, distracting from the ceremony. But there were a few things that still needed to be said.
"Harry, you're more than enough for me. Remember I was with you through everything, and I know why you are the way you are-because that's what made me what I am too." She smiled shyly, pressing his hand where the sapphire pendant he had given her was hidden near her heart.
Harry still looked uncertain, as though afraid that he had somehow gotten everything wrong. "What are you saying?"
Hermione felt tears come to her eyes as she declared, finally, "I'm saying that I do love you, and that I want the same things as you do: peace and simplicity. I always have."
Harry's face broke out into a huge grin and she felt him grip her hand tightly. She didn't think that she could feel happier; indeed it seemed to spread throughout every vein in her body to the point where she felt as though she would burst from it. Se had finally uttered the words she had long to deliver for years, and her exquisite pleasure at her feelings being returned were almost overpowering.
"Now what do we do?" Harry said with an infectious smile that Hermione couldn't help but return.
"Well, you could try kissing her," piped in Ron, who, along with the rest of the attendants, had been listening to their every word once they had arrived at the front of the crowd.
Without an answer, Harry did just that, and through the total daze that of course quickly followed, Hermione vaguely heard Ron mumble, "And they say I never have any good ideas."
~*~
That moment was enough to sustain Hermione through all the memories of pain and longing from the years that Harry was with Elizabeth. But she was certain of one thing: even for all the what-ifs and laments that she and Harry might have had more time together, she would not have changed a thing. Time was a funny thing, and who said that things would have turned out the same if she had confessed a moment too soon before he realized he felt the same? And would their noble natures have allowed them to so cruelly disregard the feelings of others; in Harry's case, to back out on a life-long promise? The very things that had kept them apart at first were the precious qualities that she could not do without.
"Harry," she whispered that night as she was falling asleep beside him.
"Mmmff?" came the sleep-addled reply.
"I love you."
She felt him turn over to face her. "I love you, too."
The next morning she would become Mrs. Harry Potter. The path that had brought them there did not matter as long as this was their destination. As the first rays of sun shone on her pillow, Hermione stirred and instinctively reached over. Half a second before she should have felt anything, she opened her eyes, and, as she had expected it would be, found Harry's side of the bed empty.
But what she found in his stead was almost as good as the real thing. He had left her a note, intimately addressed to her in his untidy scrawl.
Hermione smiled to herself and grasped the note gently in her hand. She knew that life was not about gliding-down-the-stairs fantasies, but she was still thrilled to be finally fulfilling her favorite fantasy of all: becoming Harry's wife. With one last glance at the note, she said to the empty room with a little laugh, "I can't agree more," and left it carefully on her nightstand before leaving the room to get ready.
"I can't wait to marry you."
A/N: And so ends my last fic. It's been an awesome three years here on Portkey and I can't describe how much of an honor it was to see familiar names cropping up on reviews of several stories of mine. I will be permanently indebted to Portkey and all of you for helping me develop as a writer as well as an appreciator of the Harmony ship!
For special features and a little behind-the-scenes action, see the entry for the date this was posted on my livejournal, accessible on my author page.