1. The Anniversary

T H E . A N N I V E R S A R Y

Summary: After so many years of love and friendship, Hermione worries that marriage may have waned the passion in her relationship with her husband.
Timeline: Future fic
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

Ron had just sprinkled a pinch of salt into his soup when he heard three sharp knocks on his front door. Instinctively, he thought about ignoring this caller; it was his first meal at home at three whole months, and he really did not want it interrupted before it even began.

And yet, there was something about those knocks that seemed so familiar - after all, he had been hearing them since the tender age of eleven at the Hogwarts School of Wizardry - that he felt compelled to discover the source of these sounds. Wiping his hands dry, Ron walked through the foyer and opened the door with skeptical curiosity.

"Hermione!" he exclaimed with surprise, upon seeing his childhood friend before him. "What are you doing here? It's almost nine!"

She answered with a loud sniff; her nose was bright red - he guessed from crying because it certainly wasn't cold enough outside - and she held a wad of tissues in her fist.

"Why aren't you with Harry?" Ron asked, now concerned. "Isn't it your anniversary? Is something the matter?"

At this, Hermione's bit her lip and swallowed. "I'm glad someone remembered what day it is," she said, rather coolly. "Even if," she added with more sadness this time, "it isn't my own husband."

"What?" It took some time for her accusation to sink in. "Oh! Don't say that! Do you honestly think Harry would forget something as important as this?"

"I never thought so, but apparently he has. I've been waiting the whole day and he hasn't mentioned a single word about it." She pulled nervously at the ends of her hair, twirling a curly strand around her index finger and tugging ever-so- often. "You know how normally he'll take me out for a fancy dinner or cook for us, and though I really don't need any of that, he didn't even say 'Happy Anniversary' to me this morning. He just skirted around the entire topic and flew out as fast as he could. You'd think he'd try to make today memorable."

Ron opened the door further and moved aside. "Come on inside, Hermione. We can't talk about something of this severity while standing."

Her eyes narrowed at him slightly, but she stepped inside his flat. "Is there something you know that you're not telling me, Ronald Weasley?"

He shook his head calmly. "Of course not, Hermione."

But she was one of the only two people who knew him better than himself, and so Hermione turned to glare at him. "Yes there is. I can hear it in your voice."

Ron patted her shoulder and ushered her inside the sitting room with his other arm. "I assure you, there is nothing about his behavior that I know about."

Resigned, Hermione sat down heavily on a sofa. "Oh Ron, I'm sorry for acting like such a dolt and barging on you like this without warning."

He grinned at her. "Well, you did manage to catch me at a highly opportune time, considering I didn't get in until late yesterday night. I'm only here for the weekend, actually, before I'm off again."

Hermione's mouth formed a knowing 'o' and she seized his hand. "I'd nearly forgotten! It's the qualifying matches for the Quidditch World Cup, isn't it?

Nodding happily, Ron jerked his head in the direction of his equipment. "We've only need to beat Ireland before heading to the finals. They've got a strong team this year. Last year they were what kept us from the qualifiers."

"Of course I remember! I was there, remember? Harry and I had -" At the mention of his name, Hermione sighed softly and glanced down at her shoes. "I'm sorry."

"Was it really that awful?" he asked gently.

Her shoulders rose without much emphasis and fell instantly. "We quarreled right before I came here. I asked him why he had been ignoring me for the past few days, and he retorted by asking me why I had been ignoring him for the past few weeks."

"But it hasn't been recent, has it?"

"No, it has been a tough few months. I've just been so tense lately, with everything at work and my father breaking his leg last month. There was the false alarm of my pregnancy, and though neither of us was truly ready for a baby, Harry was terribly disappointed. He'd never admit it to me because he wouldn't want to hurt me, but sometime he'll get that look on his face, like he wants to be a father and have the opportunity to make someone's life utterly perfect."

"And your work?"

"Oh, it's wonderful!" Hermione said enthusiastically. "It's been absolutely amazing traveling around the country, looking for all the pieces that define the history of magic. I've been so fortunate to have found a career I love."

"Do you get to see Harry often?"

Her face paled slightly, and she moved her head from side to side. "Not so much any more. It's terribly frustrating, and sometimes at the end of the day we're both so tired that we don't even get the chance to say good night to each other before dozing off. I think he wishes I didn't have to travel so often. Sometimes I wish that myself, so that I wasn't always away or I didn't always have to bring paperwork to dinner."

She was suddenly struck by a horrible thought, and gripped Ron's hand, squeezing with such force that he winced. "What if he's bored by me, Ron?"

He wrenched his hand away, eyes wide. "How can you even consider that? This is Harry Potter we're talking about, isn't it? The boy who was in love with you long before he ever dared to admit it to himself, even while I dated you and you both traipsed off with other possibilities. Harry used to be perfectly content watching you study as he peeked out from behind a bookshelf in the library." Ron made a face and rolled his eyes dramatically. "Trust me, I remember. I was the one who tried to wrench him away and failed miserably. He would not know how to be bored by you."

Hermione smiled a little at this and rubbed her eyes with the palms of her hands. "Do you think I'm overreacting?"

"I think you're perfectly right in wondering what's happened today, but I don't think you have a single thing to worry about."

"And if he has truly forgotten our anniversary?"

Ron opened his mouth to respond, closed it to ponder, and began speaking, his voice laced with amusement. "I just hope you have a gift that will knock off his trousers and make him unbelievably guilty."

This time Hermione did grin. "Oh," she giggled lightly, "I believe I do."

. . .

It was nearly midnight by the time Hermione arrived at her flat. She opened the door to find darkness, and because she didn't want to create a disturbance she conjured up a small ball of light to fit in her hand. At the end of the hallway, emerging from her bedroom, were rays of light that changed colors almost instantly.

Hermione paused at her doorway, leaning thoughtfully against the frame with her arms crossed. Half-propped, half- slumped against the post of the bed was Harry. He appeared to be asleep, his hair in the back sticking up on end and glasses slipped halfway down his nose. In his lap was a gift-wrapped box, and curled in his fists were strips of cut ribbon. The remnants of his wrapping excursion were sprawled around him on the bed covers, from shreds of shiny paper to errant snippets of ribbon.

Her throat constricted in guilt as she stared at the box. Unless she had completely neglected a holiday or birthday in the near vicinity, the gift could only be meant for one occasion.

From her position, a wistful smile had crept across Hermione's face, and she could feel all her frustrations and tension trickle away. She half-heartedly cursed herself for allowing herself to be so weak against Harry, but there was just something about him when he slept that made her heart stumble in its beating.

Even in the dim light, she traced his face with her eyes, memorizing the youthful innocence even though they had been married for five years and had best friends for so much longer. And yet, he would always be the Harry Potter she had been awed by so many years ago on that train to Hogwarts, greeting the world with kindness and wide-eyed astonishment.

Oh, he was beautiful.

With quiet steps, she stopped inches away from the side of their bed and bent down to remove the pair of scissors and the larger scraps of material. She thought about sitting, but then decided to simply stand and listen to his steady breathing. Soon her exhalations matched his, and because his breaths became long she was sure he had fallen into a deeper sleep. Leaning forward, she grasped his glasses by their bridge and slowly slid them from his face.

She had just barely removed him when his eyes opened, startled.

She swallowed upon seeing the perfect pools of green, a rich forest hue in the shadow of the room. Wordlessly, Harry's arms came around her waist and he pulled her down into his lap, though not before he moved his box onto the nightstand.

Wrapping her arms around his neck, Hermione pressed her warm cheek against his cool one and enjoyed the tickles of his chin bristles against her skin.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, his words muffled by her hair.

She sighed into his neck. "Me too. It was stupid of me to overreact."

"No, it wasn't. You had perfect right, especially today."

"It's just a day, Harry."

She felt him shift away from her, though she kept her hands firmly clasped around him. "Do you honestly believe that?" he said quietly.

She thought about fibbing, but then shook her head no. "I shouldn't have nagged quite so much. It's, well -" Involuntarily, her fingers wove themselves into his thick, soft hair and remained there. "We've been spending so much time apart, and I was so excited to give you your gift, and normally you make such a big deal about our anniversary. This year, you didn't say anything about it, and I thought -"

"That I'd forgotten?" he asked, completely serious.

Hermione squirmed under his intense gaze. "I hoped you hadn't."

Harry grinned at her, this sudden change in expression throwing her off-guard. "You were right, I didn't mention a word about it, but that was because I was avoiding it. I knew you'd never forget what day today was, but at the same time, I thought that if I didn't bring it up then you wouldn't either."

He kissed her slightly-parted lips and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "I didn't have a present, you see. It was supposed to have come in on Tuesday, but then there were problems with the delivery and the shipment didn't get in. I didn't know when I could expect it."

Hermione sat up straighter. "Well, thank you for the thought."

"Well, it did end up coming," Harry finished cheerfully. "While you were gone, actually. Where did you go, anyhow?"

"Ron's. I think he was a bit frazzled by my presence."

"He's in the qualifying games, isn't he?" She nodded, pleased he had remembered for their friend's sake. "We'll have to get tickets if they make it into the finals." With that said, he raised his eyebrows at her. "Well, now what?"

"What do you mean?"

"Your present first, or mine, or do we skip that altogether and get straightaway to our final gifts to each other?"

Hermione poked him in the stomach. "Didn't you ever hear the expression 'save the best for last'?"

"Maybe, but I can't wait much longer."

She laughed and pushed herself off the bed. Kneeling before her nightstand, she shuffled through the top drawer before emerging with an envelope. Hesitant, Harry took it gingerly from her fingers and raised the flap to observe the contents. He pulled out two thick sheets of paper and stared at them.

"They're airplane tickets! Where are we going?"

She nodded happily. "I spoke to my boss and we worked out a schedule so that I could have two weeks off before the end of this month. You get to decide where you want to go, but the flight is taken care of. You have two weeks with me."

"Alone?"

"Alone."

"You certainly do know how to tug at a person's conscience."

Hermione smiled. "Ron did tell me I should get you something so wonderful that you'd have no choice but to feel guilty."

Harry scowled good-naturedly. "Both of you ganging up on me, no?" He reached for his gift and held it out for Hermione. "Perhaps this won't make you feel quite as smug."

She was surprised by how heavy the box was under her hold and set it on her lap. Carefully, she undid the bow and peeled away the wrapping paper, revealing beneath it a clear glass container. Tugging away the rest of the covering, Hermione could simply stare at the contents in utter shock.

"Is this…"

"It's the first edition of Hogwarts: A History," Harry explained, unable to keep the excitement from his voice. "I had a bloody good time finding it and convincing the owner to sell it to me."

"Oh Harry!" Hermione warbled, very nearly crying in joy. "You know I can't possibly keep this. This should be in a library or museum."

"I know that," he said easily. "But I also knew how pleased you'd be if you could say you once held what might be the most famous book in wizarding history. Not held, but actually owned. It's yours now to do what you'd like, and I trust you to make the best choice."

She threw her arms around him, knocking him against the bedpost. "Thank you, Harry."

He moved his hand up and down her back. "Happy?"

"Very much so. I'm sorry I ever doubted you."

"I'm sorry I gave you enough reason to doubt me." One corner of his mouth lifted. "So we'll call it even."

She nodded, understanding. Such a statement applied to so much more than their gifts; it was true for every aspect of their relationship - they were truly even, equals in every respect.

"I love you, Harry Potter."

"I love you, Hermione Granger." He paused, smiled against her mouth. "Potter," he added lightly.

Her lips curved under his, warming quickly and meeting his invitation. Save the best for last, indeed, she thought rather smugly. He had no idea what gift she still had in store for him.

-end-