Someone's Everything

For once, I wanted to be everything.

Not something or a part of a something. I wanted to be the reason he woke up in the morning, the one who would have his kids, the one who was the greatest woman to grace the earth other than his mum.

I had done everything; help defeat Dark Lords, keep two boys alive from the ages of eleven to eighteen, finish my formal education and get a great job at St. Mungos, but I wasn't someone's everything. I wanted it so bad that I could feel the ache in my chest when I went home all alone and no one was there to give me a hug and tell me it would be all better.

I knew who I wanted to want me to be their everything. That couldn't happen, though. I was strictly a friend. I was the advisor, Healer (pun intended), and confidant, all in one. No more, no less. And it hurt.

The endless parade of girls that came into his life used him for his money, popularity, and influence in the Wizarding world. I had to be the one to comfort him when they decided that a life of being constantly followed by the media was not for them. None of them ever figured out that all he wanted was a family. I was the only one who knew. This was because he was my everything.

One night, we sat on a bench in Hyde Park, enjoying the cloud-free sky.

“Hermione,” he said with his messy hair blowing in the wind, “am I destined to be a bachelor?”

“We've been over this a million times and the answer is still no.”

“But it doesn't matter what I do, it always the same. We meet, we date, it's fun for a while, and then they leave. Is it because I don't give them enough attention or—

“It's because they're stupid prats who aren't woman enough to handle the complications of having the smallest acquaintance with Harry Potter. Don't worry, you'll find that one person who can.”

He smiled and gave my hand a squeeze in thanks. I smiled back, but on the inside I was crumbling. That had been the moment was when he was supposed to realize I was that woman and he had failed. It was that night that I gave up my long-held hope that he would look my way and see all he wanted. I buried them underneath my sadness and bitterness at the girl who would be his. She would be something I couldn't.

We continued to be best friends for two months after that conversation in the park and then suddenly, our relationship shifted. He would talk to me only when he needed to and then I wouldn't hear from him for weeks on end. I went through what I liked to call “Harry Withdrawal.” I cried everyday, slept and ate horribly until I did talk to him and when he did drop by, I was all smiles and laughs. When he left, I curled into the fetal position on my couch and cried until morning, all the while wishing that he had said what I wanted to hear most.

He burst into my office on a late afternoon in September. His green eyes were filled with something I couldn't place and leaves were stuck in his hair. To anyone else, he might have looked like a lunatic, but to me, he was my Harry.

“Did you fall out of a tree?” I joked.

“The wind is strong out there, I can only do so much,” he replied as he sat down. I noticed that his he bounced his leg up and down in agitation.

“Is something the matter?”

“Hermione, I've been a bloody idiot. I just got back from my date with Michelle.”

Oh, that. I steeled myself for the many emotional blows that he would unintentionally give me.

He continued jovially, “We broke up. It's the best I felt in ages!”

“But I thought things were going well with her?” I asked in confusion.

“They were, but something happened. It hit me while I was telling her about the time you almost hexed Ron into oblivion for ripping out a page in 101 Ways to Cheat Death. I've been settling for less. Don't you get it?”

I slowly shook my head no. Maybe he had turned into a lunatic.

He groaned in frustration, jumped out of his chair, and paced in front of my desk. “I've been trying to avoid you so I could forget you. The others have been cheap imitations of you, but they could never be you. That's why we never work out!” He stopped and gripped my desk with his hands. “Get it?”

I could only stare at him in disbelief. “What?”

“I. Love. You. A. Lot.”

“Pardon,” I squeaked after a beat of silence.

He laughed. “For the smartest witch of your age, it's taking you a while to connect the dots. You're telling me that you don't understand that I'm saying that you should be with me and that I should be with you? Come on, now.” He stood there grinning.

The familiar feelings of love rushed through me, but I didn't want to believe it.

“You can't,” I protested. “You've been with loads of girls and you want to be with me?”

“Why else would I be standing here? You're the best thing that's ever happened to me, even if you did start bossing me around from the first minute we met.”

I felt lighter than air and held back the inclination to shout for joy.

“Harry—

“Listen, I'll wait for you at your flat, okay?” He kissed me on top of the forehead and walked out of the door whistling.

For the next four hours, I floated through my paperwork and seriously considered flying home without a broomstick. When I arrived, he greeted me with a hug and freshly-made dinner. After we ate, we talked for Merlin knows how long and fell asleep on the couch.

I woke up on top of him and my head on his chest. Grinning, I looked down on him. He was smiling in his sleep and for the first time in my life, I felt complete.

Now, four years later, I still feel that same feeling. I'm his friend, confidant, wife, and mother to our two children.

I'm his everything.

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