Disclaimer: Not mine; more's the pity.
Shadow Walks
My shadow's the only one that walks beside me
--Green Day, "Boulevard of Broken Dreams"
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Epilogue
You are the light that is leading me to the place where I find peace again
--Lifehouse, "Everything"
The Great Hall was crowded, and the low glow of candlelight flickered just above everyone's heads. Harry felt the weight of every single eye in the room, and it made him shift uncomfortably. Somewhere in the cavernous room, a camera flashed, and he reflexively flinched. The Headmistress was speaking, but her words rushed past his ears without meaning, like the gurgle of a brook.
Instead, he sought out Hermione. She's beautiful, he thought, but it went beyond the golden highlights of candle-shine on her hair, beyond the way her eyes moved over the familiar features of the room with a comfortable air. She was shining, a radiant look of peace on her face, and Harry allowed himself to think proudly, I did that.
He looked at Ron and Luna in turn, also present on this special day. Luna was tucked under Ron's shoulder, and had some kind of fluffy looking wildflower perched precariously behind one ear. Harry thought he spied a bit of root hanging down, and surmised that Luna had plucked it from the Hogwarts' grounds as she came in. Ron winked and smiled, and raised his goblet in a kind of silent toast to his best friend.
Harry saw Hermione notice the gesture, and nearly laughed at the way her eyebrows came rushing together in the center of her forehead. Ron set the glass down so quickly that liquid sloshed over the rim, and Harry saw his mouth move,
"It's butterbeer, I swear."
Harry smothered a smile, the contortion of his face occurring simultaneously with the concluding segment of McGonagall's announcement, as she swept one arm backwards in presentation of him. He swallowed awkwardly, and tried to force his expression into something a little more natural.
"…though he needs no introduction, I am proud to present to you our new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, Mr. Harry Potter."
The Hall was awash in thunderous applause, as Harry half-stood and reclaimed his seat at teacher's table on the dais as quickly as possible. Seated at the nearest part of the Gryffindor table, Ron, Luna, and Hermione had come to their feet first, followed by the rest of the student body. It seemed to Harry that the Slytherin table did so in a decidedly reluctant fashion.
"He will be making his home here in the castle, along with his lovely wife, formerly Miss Hermione Granger…" There was something slightly misty in the Headmistress's eyes, as she looked fondly down on her former pupils. "… who will be pursuing a Charms Mastery under apprenticeship to myself and Professor Penhallow." The Charms teacher who had replaced Flitwick inclined his head and lifted his glass toward McGonagall.
Harry was no longer truly listening, his attention having drifted at the phrase, his lovely wife…
It was the start of term at Hogwarts, and over a year had passed since Hermione's miraculous return.
Things had been awkward between the members of the Trio at first, as they hesitantly tried to figure out how to reconstruct what had been lost and incorporate it into what now existed. Ron had been tentative, walking on eggshells around Hermione mostly, and when he had needled her, it had been done gently, as if he were more than half-afraid that he'd infuriate her right out of their universe. One morning, he had finally said something catty about her hair and insulted her coffee, and she had startled the life out of him, by hugging him fiercely in response. Things were more like old times between them after that.
For Harry, the declaration between himself and Hermione had been the elephant in the room, as he'd battled the shriek in his head, it's too soon! and the desire that welled within him to drag her down to the Ministry and marry her posthaste.
After approximately six weeks of further waffling, Hermione had finally thrown down the gauntlet by surprising him in his bed one night, wearing very little.
"Hermione, what are you doing?" His voice was wary, panicky, and sounded more than a little strained.
"Can you really not tell?" Hermione said dryly, but there was vulnerability in her tone that made Harry feel incredibly guilty. She was putting it all on the line for him, because he was apparently incapable of making the decision.
"Why are you doing it?" Her hands were snaking along the bare planes of his chest, and he found himself shivering, even though her fingertips were leaving fiery trails in their wake.
"Because I love you, Harry James Potter, and I know you love me. I don't know how else to convince you that this is what I want, and to get you to stop - to get you to stop - " She faltered as Harry pulled her closer.
"Stop what?"
"Stop being silly, noble, selfless Harry Potter, and do what you want. What do you want?" She sounded breathless.
"You know what I want," he said throatily, and it was the same tone that had been in his voice that day at the Muggle pub.
She threaded one knee in between his legs, with unmistakable intent.
"Then why don't you do something about it," she challenged.
Harry hesitated for only the fraction of a second, though later, it would seem to him like years. This was Hermione, his Hermione, and she was in his arms, and she loved him. Why was he vacillating? Was he afraid of tempting the gods with too much happiness? Was he afraid that everything he'd dreamed of for five years would not live up to his expectations? Had he put Hermione up on a pedestal so out of reach for so long that he'd never allow her to step down? He'd told himself that allowing some time to pass was for Hermione's benefit, but was it?
She shifted against him, and bracketed his face with her hands. And he made a decision.
Don't muck this up, Potter, he told himself sternly.
He turned his face to the side slightly, to kiss her gently on one palm.
"I'm sorry," he said. "I really thought - I thought I was doing the best thing - I - I mean, thinking of you first, of what you needed, making your transition easier, but - but maybe I was just afraid…"
"Of what?" Her voice was soft, solemn. Her fingers slid through his hair, to play at the nape of his neck.
"Of stepping off the ledge," he answered cryptically. Of leaving the past behind, of forgetting the years of misery and heartache and longing and despair, of accepting my future with the woman I have always loved, was what he did not say.
And he could tell that Hermione understood, by the way she buried her head in his shoulder.
"I love you," he offered, and he could taste the salt of tears on her face, as he kissed her lips. He felt her smile against his mouth, and her fingers fumbled against his chest, as she began to slide the straps of her camisole down her shoulders.
"I know," she replied.
He had proposed two weeks later, down on one knee in the living room of their flat, with his mother's engagement ring.
Their wedding had taken place two weeks after that, a quiet affair that had raised not a blip on the wizarding media radar until after the fact. They had been married on the Hogwarts grounds, at the edge of the forest, where she had vanished, a warming charm protecting them from the chill autumn winds, as the Headmistress conducted the ceremony. Only Ron, Luna, Lupin, Tonks, the Grangers, and the Weasleys had been present.
Harry thought he'd never seen anything more beautiful than Hermione, her cheeks flushed, and the wind buffeting the dangling ringlets of her upswept hair, in the moment that McGonagall declared them husband and wife.
His wife…
He drifted back to the present, as his eyes sought her out, and found her regarding him with such a fond expression that she must have known in which direction his thoughts had flown.
She twiddled briefly with the diamond on her left hand, and smiled at him, mouthing, I love you.
I know, he returned cheekily, using their own private substitute for "I love you too", dating back to their first night together, over a year ago.
Their first anniversary would be coming up soon, he mused. He would have to do something special.
The food appeared on the long tables, and the Hall quieted to a low murmur, punctuated by the clang of flatware on plate. Harry met Luna's eyes and winked. She smiled, her eyes flickering down to her own ring, promising a future that had long been deferred.
Equilibrium, indeed.
The End
Again, my apologies for the long delay in posting. Real Life has definitely been catching up with me, but I fully intend to continue writing.
Hope you enjoyed this short snippet. I hope to have a little one-shot or something similar exploring exactly what happened to that "other Hermione" at some point in the near future.
Cheers. And thanks to everyone who read and reviewed. Your response to this story was truly overwhelming and humbling.
lorien
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