A Most Advantageous Match
Chapter 1: The Lengths One Goes to for a Friend
There could be no greater felicity, Miss Hermione Granger was certain, than a day lounging by the lake on Hogwarts' grounds, especially with her favorite person in the world, one Mr. Harry Potter.
One might call it impertinent, the way they spent time together, unaccompanied by any friend or chaperone, but Hermione found the implication that they were doing anything improper simply preposterous. Harry had been her dearest - and at times, her only - friend since age eleven, and he would no sooner compromise her virtue than he would feed her to the lake's Giant Squid.
And on a day like this, with the sunshine warm on their faces and a gentle breeze rustling through the nearby forest, she couldn't bother to think of such things. Nothing could destroy these moments.
Well, almost nothing.
"I have to get married," Harry said miserably. His demeanor suggested complete calm - he sat sprawled in the grass, legs stretched out in front of him, supporting his weight with his hands behind him - but his eyes said something else.
Hermione swallowed. "W-why ever would you have to marry? You're only seventeen. No men marry so young."
Harry sighed. "My parents, in their will, made it so that I would receive access to my full inheritance at age 18 - but it would remain under the custody of my guardian until I married. I- I'm sure they thought they'd be preventing me from squandering the family fortune, but I don't think they considered who my guardians might be."
Unfortunately, Harry had suffered a most tragic childhood. While just an infant, his parents had been murdered by a man opposed to their political views (and political power), called Lord Voldemort. To add insult to injury, Harry's godfather, Lord Black, had been framed for the murder and imprisoned for twelve years - until he escaped and revealed the real culprit to Harry. Unfortunately, Lord Black died two years later while engaged in a duel with one of Lord Voldemort's supporters. Harry had been devastated.
With his legally appointed guardian in prison for murder, Harry had been forced to live with his last remaining relatives, the Dursley family of Privet. Mrs. Dursley was Harry's mother's only sister, married to a decently well-off businessman. They had one son, exceedingly rotund and ill-mannered, named Dudley. Mr. and Mrs. Dursley indulged their son extravagantly while giving Harry barely enough to live on.
Only at age eleven did Harry find out not only about his inheritance, but about his true nature as well - for Harry was a wizard, just as his parents had been. Hermione, too, was a witch, though her parents were unmagical, and together they'd attended Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry for seven years. Harry's parents had long ago set aside funds to pay for his education, and Hermione's parents had been surprisingly supportive of her receiving a magical education.
Thus, there they sat on that lovely May afternoon, Harry to turn 18 and receive his inheritance on the last day of July that year, and the greedy Dursleys to maintain control over it until he married.
Hermione felt her heart grow heavy. Harry was too young to marry - she wasn't ready for him to marry, because when he did, their friendship as she knew it would die. They'd never be able to sit together like this again…indeed, they'd probably not be alone in each other's presence for the rest of their lives. And what if Harry's wife didn't approve of their friendship? Would they be able to maintain any sort of relationship at all?
"Have…have you any prospects?" Hermione asked, eager to know whom all Harry's attention would soon be devoted to.
Harry sighed, brushing back his perpetually unkempt hair from his forehead. "I'd always wanted to marry for love, as my father did. It's not as if I need worry about money - or at least, I hadn't thought I would, and…where's the sense in bowing to the demands of society only to be miserable the rest of my life? I find, however, that…I've never felt anything more than a fleeting fancy for any woman. All my contemplations have led me to only one conclusion…and that is that you are and always have been the woman I care most for in the world."
The candor of Harry's words stunned Hermione into speechlessness, and she felt tears prick at her eyes as Harry turned his body and his gaze fully to her. "I've thought long and hard on this matter before confiding in you…I could not ask anyone else, Hermione. I - I cannot promise love, nor, do I believe, can you, but…we have such similar dispositions that I believe we could live quite comfortably together, and I would endeavor in every way to make you happy. If you long for something more, some deeper affection, then I will take no offense at your rejection, but…but if you feel as I do, that you could be content to spend the rest of your life with a man that holds you in the highest regard as his dearest friend, then perhaps…perhaps you would consent to marry me?"
His speech was bumbling and a little boyish, but as usual, Hermione was impressed with his simple sincerity. Her mind buzzed with his words as she sat beside him in the grass, knees drawn up to her chest underneath the standard, basic white frock all Hogwarts girls wore. So unexpected was his proposal that she couldn't begin to think of an answer.
Hermione swallowed. "Will you…will you be willing to accept my reply tomorrow?"
"Of course," Harry said, blushing and gazing intently at his rather scuffed up shoes. "I apologize if I've made you uncomfortable."
"No, not at all - you've only taken me by surprise," Hermione said as she stood and readied herself to return to the castle. Honestly, she was flustered beyond belief and could only make a vague affectation of calmness, but she tried nonetheless.
"Let me escort you back," Harry said, jumping up and offering his arm with all his usual chivalry. Hermione smiled and accepted, feeling as always a deep sense of affection for the young man, and wondering if she could accept the life he offered her.
~
Hermione spent that evening awake with her thoughts. While she did not believe herself to be in love with Harry, and nor could she be sure that she ever would - and even still, while she knew Harry did not and probably would not ever love her - he was one of three men in the world Hermione truly respected - the other two being her father and the extremely elderly Headmaster Dumbledore. And knowing Harry's character as she did, she felt sure he'd be nothing less than a devoted and kind husband, which was more than many a woman could ask for. He was right; they could live quite comfortably together, and though she hated to admit it, the match would be most advantageous. In marrying him, she could save him from destitution and secure her own future at the same time.
Still, Hermione blanched at the thought of forever. If she married Harry, that would be permanent. She would lose forever any chance she had of finding love…true love. Thought outwardly pragmatic and rational, Hermione had always harbored an inner sense of romanticism, a dream of a man that would love her passionately and respect both her intelligence and her longing for independence.
Hermione had long chided herself for such silly fantasies, however, believing them to be girlish and impractical. As difficult as such long-rooted desires were to uproot, she felt she must. What if true love never came, and she lived a life of poverty and loneliness waiting for it?
When she could have been comfortable, and…happy, with Harry. What more could she ask for, than a lifetime spent in the company of her dearest friend? He had, at least, never tried to tame her like most men had, had never asked her to be meek and ignorant of the world around her. Unlike everyone else in the world (or so it seemed to Hermione), Harry had never wished her to confine her learning to household charms and other such inane things. No, he'd often humored her curiosity by teaching her defensive magic himself and pilfering such books for her as she requested.
Surely Harry would continue to grant her such freedom as his wife…and could there really be another man in the world so compatible to her nature that would allow her half the liberty Harry would?
And…and if they were married, nobody would question their behavior around one another any longer…theirs could be as affectionate a friendship as they liked, with all the privacy they'd often longed for.
She would never have to give him up, she realized. Their friendship could last…interminably. Unless, of course, she refused him, and he was forced to choose another wife - leaving her quite alone in wait for something better, something that might never come.
By sunrise, she had made her decision.
~
The next day, Harry asked her to walk with him. They strolled around the lake in silence, and finally stopped at Hermione's favorite tree, where she often sat reading, and where Harry often sat with her in companionable silence.
She turned to him, meeting his anticipatory gaze readily. "If you feel quite certain that I am the woman you wish to take as your wife, then I will gladly consent."
Harry smiled, a broad, unreserved smile. "I am certain, and…so very pleased. I can think of no better life's companion, nor any better Mistress of Godric's Hollow, than you. We will have a happy life, I know it. If you give me leave, I'll write your father this very moment. I'm afraid I did not quite have the courage to ask his consent beforehand."
"Yes, of course," Hermione replied, holding back a chuckle, and she was only blushing slightly as he rushed back to the castle.
~
The next day, Harry received her father's reply by owl, which gave his hearty consent to the match, provided Hermione was willing, which she promptly wrote him to say that she was.
The wedding was set to be held in late June at Hogwarts, after which they would honeymoon at the Black home in London and then settle in at Godric's Hollow. All of their friends were informed of the engagement, and for the next month, Hermione barely saw her betrothed. Both had their last school exams to take, and while Hermione was trapped in gown fittings, Harry was preparing his estate for their inhabitance.
Meanwhile, rumors circulated heavily about the reasons for their marrying. None but Harry and Hermione knew of his precarious financial situation, so naturally, all were completely untrue. Many whispered in the hallways that they were forced into the marriage by the consequences of their time spent alone together, an assumption that Hermione knew would be dismissed in nine months. Others claimed that Hermione had ensnared him with a love potion to gain his heart - or his money. Still, there was a small contingent of romantics that insisted Harry and Hermione were deeply, passionately in love and had been for some time. Hermione wished the last were truer, but quickly dismissed such thoughts. She was very lucky to have a man such as Harry for her husband, and she would be happy with that.
Hermione had little time for second thoughts or doubts, however, as her wedding day arrived with alarming speed. No sooner had the ink dried on her examination papers, it seemed, than she was whisked into her dressing room the morning of the ceremony.
The event itself was performed with simplicity and economy, sealed with the chastest of kisses that nevertheless left Hermione's lips tingling oddly afterward. She attributed this sensation to the novelty of the act of kissing, and for the duration of their wedding breakfast, felt comfortably at ease in the presence of her best friend.
Not until she and Harry were in the carriage bound for London did Hermione begin to contemplate the wifely duties she would be expected to perform that night.