Good Enough

A/N – hello everyone – yes, I’m back. It’s been a long while but lets just say that real life has been a bit of a challenge lately so writing has been the last thing I’ve wanted to do. But there have been a few stories hanging around and here is one of them. It’s written so the updates will be regular but it is an experiment as it is written in the first person so please, be gentle. Each chapter is split into two – the first half is Hermione’s point of view while the second is Harry’s. And in this story Hermione isn’t as strong as perhaps she actually is but I thought of the idea while listening to ‘Good Enough’ by Evanesence so…

Anyway, I hope you enjoy it.

Chapter 1 – Rain

Hermione

Whoever it was that came up with the ‘Victory Ball’ idea should be shot, quite frankly. I mean, hadn’t we done enough? Wasn’t getting rid of Voldemort worthy of a lifetime of peace and quiet? Evidently not.

Walking out of the Weasley’s bathroom with my mind stuck on supposedly the most important decision of my life – whether to wear the blue or the purple set of robes that had been picked out for me – I didn’t really notice she was there until I heard her laugh, a perfect, tinkling laugh.

I stopped in my tracks and looked down on them from the stairs – Ron with Luna basically sitting on top of him while Ginny sat at Harry’s feet, giggling at something he must have said.

Perfect.

Leaning against the wall in what I hoped were shadows, making me invisible to them if they chanced to look up, I fought against the tears that threatened to leak from my eyes.

It wasn’t fair.

I have been his best friend for over seven years now, stood by his side through thick and thin, sacrificed practically everything for him yet somehow I’m still not good enough. What else could I do?

Nothing.

It was then the part of me that has kept me going for these last few years, the part that recognised that I was madly in love with him and no other boy – man – would ever come close to him in my heart, took over. That part told me to harden up and get over it, that if I want to retain his friendship then I’d have to get used to him being with her.

Closing my eyes, I try to ready myself for the upcoming exchange…but I know I can’t do it. Not today anyway. Taking a deep breath, I creep back upstairs to the room I usually share with Ginny and grab an old raincoat of hers hanging in the wardrobe. Making doubly sure there was no way I was going to cry, I headed back downstairs.

“Hey Hermione,” Harry calls to me – of course he’s the first to notice my arrival, “are you okay?”

“Yes, yes,” I say, not really pausing as I walk pass, putting on the coat, “I just need a bit of fresh air…”

“Are you mental?” Ron asks me in his usual caring manner, “it’s bucketing down out there!”

“Honestly Ron,” I retort in what I know is my ‘why are you so stupid’ voice, “I’m a witch who knows water repelling charms. I’ll be fine.”

“We were going to go over our plans for next Saturday…” Harry adds. He looks up at me and I can see the concern in his eyes, making me start to falter. But then Ginny puts her hand on his knee in a gesture so natural that it breaks my heart in two. My resolve returns.

“Oh, I think you four have it covered,” I say in what I hoped was a nonchalant way, “you don’t need me.”

And then I leave without letting them – him – say anything more. I put the hood up of the ugly, bright yellow raincoat and head out into the summer storm.

I let myself cry then, knowing I was safe because no one could tell my tears through the rain. You see, it isn’t Ron who’s breaking my heart – it’s Harry. It’s always been Harry. Well, except for that small time in our sixth year when I tried to forget about Harry by concentrating on Ron (which just ended in a huge mess) but eventually I went back to wanting Harry.

However it’s not going to happen. I’m not good enough for him and never will be. I will never be able to compete with the Ginny Weasley’s of the world; the perfect girls who can talk to boys without blabbering on about what they’ve read in some book some where. Perfect girls whose hair isn’t like a creature with a mind of its own. Perfect girls who can pretend Quidditch is the most fascinating thing on this earth. Perfect girls who are nothing like me.

I hang my head down and let a sob escape from the depths of my heart, little rivulets of water running over the collar of my coat and down my neck. The debate of whether I should change to make myself more attractive to Harry has been made in my head many times over the years to the point where I remind myself how useless it would be. If he doesn’t like me for who I was then I would just have to remain miserable and alone until I find someone who will.

I wasn’t going to change even for blasted Harry Potter.

Why do I have to be so bloody moralistic? Stupid blimmin upbringing.

I start walking again, heading for the ward boundary, not really knowing where I would go but knowing I didn’t want to stay here. My tears are running freely now, my nose joining in with the fun and as I sob once more, I ignore the fact that my hood has blown off and now my hair is plastered to my head.

At least it doesn’t look like a bird nest now.

“Hermione?”

My head snapped around at the sound of my name and there he was, standing in the rain, protected by the spell I taught him a lifetime ago – the same spell I told Ron that I would use and haven’t. Blasted, blimmin, bloody hell.

“Harry?” I choke out, my voice betraying the fact I have been crying, “what are you doing here?”

“Are you alright?” he asks me, his eyes boring into me, “I mean, are you…are you crying?”

“No,” I lie and see that he knows that immediately – I turn from him so I can lie more convincingly, “no, I’m fine. It’s just the rain…”

“You’re soaked,” he interrupts, stopping me walking by grabbing my arm, “Hermione, please, tell me what’s wrong.”

I bow my head and a stream of water runs down my back as I fight my urge just to blurt out the truth. As long as I don’t look at him…

“Hermione…” he says again as he turns me around – I keep my eyes fixed on my soaked shoes, “this isn’t like you. What is it? What’s wrong?”

Don’t look up, don’t look up, don’t look up.

But sometimes I’m not so smart and I ignore the mantra going through my brain. With the summer rain beating down on my face, I look into those green eyes I love so much and see him looking back at me with worry and concern.

“Be careful of what you ask of me Harry,” I tell him sadly.

“Why? What are you hiding?”

He lets go of my arm and watches me and I just stare back. My head is screaming to me to tell him how I feel, that I need to tell him how I feel. So I do.

“Why aren’t I good enough for you?” I whisper.

His eyes widen in shock so I turn from him and continue to the end of the wards, stepping past the tree that indicates I am now free to Apparate. I hear him call out my name and I turn back to face him and see that he is only steps away. He looks at me with his adorable, confused yet trying to understand face and I smile at him.

“I should never have let you…” I search for the words that portray what I feel, “capture me so completely,” I finish, wincing when I see the hurt in his eyes, “but I did. It’s just that I’ve dreamt, hoped, for so long that you’d see I was…”

“…good enough,” he says and I nod. We look at each other for a bit longer before I realise that I can’t look at him anymore. I give him another small smile, then leave.

Harry

Why does she do that? It wasn’t that funny. And I really wish she wasn’t sitting right at my feet, like she belonged to me or something. Ginny Weasley is definitely not mine and I don’t particularly want her to be. Not any more anyway. Besides, I actually don’t want a girlfriend sitting at my feet, looking up at me like I was some pop idol or something – I want a girlfriend who sits by my side.

Like Hermione was.

I wonder where she’s got to? It doesn’t normally take her this long to go to the loo.

I’m just about to suggest going up and checking she was alright when she comes down the stairs carrying a really foul looking coat.

“Hey Hermione,” I call out and she looks at me slightly startled, “are you okay?”

“Yes, yes,” she grins a grin that doesn’t quite reach her eyes as she strides past, putting on the coat, “I just need a bit of fresh air…”

“Are you mental?” Ron asks in amazement and I tended to agree with him, “it’s bucketing down out there!”

“Honestly Ron,” she fires back at him in a tone we know so well, “I’m a witch who knows water repelling charms. I’ll be fine.”

But it’s not fine, something was wrong – I could feel it. We met this afternoon to work out how to handle the stupid ‘Victory Ball’ next Saturday which included a stupid speech I had to give about the stupid war that ended a bit back. Well, okay, so the war wasn’t stupid but everything else was and I really didn’t think I could get through the whole stupid thing without her.

“We were going to go over our plans for next Saturday…” I remind her and she pauses as she looks at me as if she understood how much I needed her. Then Ginny puts her hand on my knee and I see a hardness cross Hermione’s face for a second, a brief moment.

I’m confused – one: why the bloody hell does Ginny think she has the right to touch me in a way that she no longer has any right to touch me and two: why did Hermione look so hurt by it? Before I have a chance to think about it further, she continues to walk to the door.

“Oh, I think you four have it covered,” she says in a forced, calm sort of way, “you don’t need me.”

And then she’s gone.

“What the bloody hell do you think you’re doing?” I growl at Ginny, swatting her hand off my leg, making her look at me, her annoyance boiling just under the surface, which she hides, and then asks me innocently

“What?”

“You and I are not together, Ginny,” I spit at her as I stand.

“But that was only because of the war,” she purrs, also standing and taking my hand, making me face her, “and now the war is over – thanks to you. It’s only a matter of time before…”

“Before nothing,” I interrupt harshly, “things aren’t the same as before, they can never be the same as they were before…”

“Fine then,” she flings back to me, the famous Weasley temper now in full swing, “play your little game of hard to get. But this isn’t over Harry, not by a long shot!”

And with a flash of red hair, she’s gone. Taking a deep breath, I calm down, frustrated at the mess I seemed to have got myself in. I barely hear Luna excuse herself and say she’ll go and talk to Ginny, but I do hear Ron.

“Have you asked Hermione yet?” he says somewhat cautiously. I smile and shake my head ‘no’.

I had confessed to Ron that my feelings for Hermione had changed while I was still recovering in St Mungo’s (on one of the rear occasions she had actually left me to visit her parents) and he had accepted the news with an un-interested shrug. It seemed he had seen it coming for quite a while.

I, however, had only started to recognise that I was feeling more than platonic feelings for her throughout the search for the Horcruxes. Then she nearly died during Christmas last year and finally I knew that Hermione was the only girl that could ever mean anything to me.

Don’t get me wrong, my time with Ginny had been great; she helped take away the mess that was my life. But so does Hermione in a way that is more real, more…complete. Though it took her nearly dying for me to work that out – sometimes I can be so stupid.

Not that I did anything about these new feelings, of course. I had this whole business of saving the world to worry about and the last thing I needed was Voldemort to know that I cared for someone very deeply. So I did the only thing I could and ignored how I felt until Voldemort was over.

However, Voldemort has been over for about a month now and Hermione still doesn’t know I like her – there never seems to be a right time to say anything. There are always people about, and Ginny keeps interrupting us at the most annoying times. Also, it’s a lot harder than I thought it would be, asking your best friend out on a date. I now see why it took Ron so long.

But that was all going to change today – I was going to ask Hermione to be my date to this stupid Ball thing. Yet now she’s upset about something and is out walking in the pouring rain and I’m here staring at Ron like an idiot.

“Go and find her Harry,” Ron tells me, breaking me out of my thoughts. With the realisation that she may already be gone, I nod in acknowledgement to Ron and dash for the door, pausing briefly to cast a water repealing charm taught to me a lifetime ago.

Hermione was easy to find, the bright yellow raincoat standing out even through the pouring rain. I watch as she stops for a moment and bows her head making her look so…alone. She starts to walk again and I run to catch up with her, frowning when the hood of her jacket is blown away and the mass of curls that frame her face so brilliantly fall flat from the rain.

I call out to her and she turns to me so sharply that I wonder if she’s injured herself, her face full of surprise. As I get closer to her, I see that there is a sadness in her eyes, and a wetness that isn’t from the rain.

“Harry?” she says and in that single word, I definitely know she’s been crying, “what are you doing here?”

Searching her eyes for some clue, a reason why she’s so upset I wonder for the first time whether it’s because of me. But I’m a bloke and Hermione is a crying girl, so with the tack of a bludger I blurt out

“Are you alright? I mean, are you…are you crying?”

“No,” she says quickly and I know it’s a lie, frowning when she turns from me to finish her fib, “no, I’m fine. It’s just the rain…”

She could never lie that well but I let this one go.

“You’re soaked,” I continue, stopping her by taking her arm so she has to look at me, “Hermione, please, tell me what’s wrong.”

But she doesn’t look at me, she keeps a steady gaze at her shoes. Now I’m really concerned.

“Hermione, this isn’t like you,” I try again, “what is it? What’s wrong?”

After a few moments, she finally looks at me and it takes all my strength not to reach out and hug her. She looked so wounded, in such pain, that all I want to do is take that pain away. I try and think why she’s like this, what had happened to make her so…well, not the strong Hermione that I’ve come to care about so much.

“Be careful of what you ask of me Harry,” she finally says and I’m confused. Why can’t she tell me what the matter is?

“Why?” I ask as I let go of her arm, “what are you hiding?”

She pauses and stares at me and I could see the battle going on in her brain. I can feel my own concern grow the longer she stays silent. After what seemed a lifetime, the rain still pelting down unnoticed by either of us, she whispers

“Why aren’t I good enough for you?”

What?

My mind screams a million questions as I try and understand what she means – not good enough for me? She thinks she’s not good enough for me? Hermione? How can she ever think she’s not good enough for me? I mean, she’s perfect! Well, maybe not perfect but pretty bloody close. Bloody hell, if anyone is not good for anyone else, it’s me who isn’t good enough for her!

None of that matters, however, as Hermione turns and starts to walk away, leaving me watching her like a stunned mullet before I get it into my head she’s leaving. Taking a few steps to catch up to her, I call out her name and as if slow motion, she turns to me and smiles sadly.

“I should never have let you…” she pauses briefly and now I can clearly see the tears amongst the rain. I wait for her to finish but part of me is scared of what she is going to say. After a few seconds she continues, “…capture me so completely. But I did. It’s just that I’ve dreamt, hoped, for so long that you’d see I was…”

“…good enough,” I end for her and she nods.

I look at her, wanting her to see that she is more than good enough for me then realising she obviously doesn’t see that, that all the hints I thought I’d shown her haven’t worked and she has no idea how much I care for her.

Say something, my brain screams at me, say something before it’s too late!

So I open my mouth to tell her that she’s perfect to me, that I wanted her to be my date for the Ball on Saturday, that if she wanted, perhaps we could be boyfriend and girlfriend. But before I could tell her anything…she’s gone.

A/N – thanks for the reviews and just to answer some of the questions: this is only six chapters long and I’ve tried to keep the chapters reasonably short so it doesn’t get too confusing and of course there’s a happy ending – all my stories have a happy ending! Thanks again

Chapter 2 – Discovery

Hermione

Out of all the places I could’ve chosen to run away to, why I chose the Shrieking Shack I don’t really know.

At least it wasn’t raining.

Looking at the near demolished building, I start remembering the things that had happened within its broken walls – the initial meeting with Sirius all those years ago and then the battle against Voldemort’s minions earlier this year. They didn’t make me feel any better.

With a sigh, I begin the familiar trek towards Hogwarts, wringing out my hair as I go. It was quite warm and I’m sure there is steam coming off of me, but the sun dries me out quickly and before I know it my tear-stained face shows no trace of its earlier wetness.

By the time I reach the gates of my old school, my coat is off and I’m enjoying the heat on my back. I know exactly where I’m going now and with a great sense of purpose, I make my way to the edge of the lake where Professor Dumbledore had been laid to rest. Over the last year I would go there whenever I needed to get away from the war and everything that was going on. It always felt calm, peaceful even, in the spot where he lay and at times I was sure I felt him watching over me, helping me quell whatever turmoil I was experiencing at the time.

I arrive at the tomb and put a hand on its glowing white surface, still cool to the touch even though the sun was shining brilliantly down upon it. Immediately I feel more relaxed, more in control of my emotions and thoughts. A wave of sadness flows through me as I think about Harry and how I left him.

“What have I done, Professor?” I ask my old headmaster, closing my eyes with weariness as I try to work out what I should do next.

“Miss Granger?”

Startled, it took a moment before I realised it wasn’t the voice of Professor Dumbledore saying my name but it was Professor McGonagall – how I could get the two confused, I don’t know.

“Professor,” I stumble out, “what are you doing here?”

“The castle is my home, Miss Granger,” was the reply and I mentally kick myself for sounding so disrespectful, “may I ask the purpose of this unexpected visit?”

“Oh, er,” I start, trying to think of a plausible excuse but then sag tiredly when I’m unable to think of anything but the truth, “I just needed somewhere to think and, well…”

“I understand,” the professor said in a tone that one rarely hears from her, “I find this place well suited to a bit of quiet contemplation. I, myself, often come here to think and at times even have a chat.”

“A chat?”

“Yes,” the professor answered, her eyes straying over to the tomb with a fondness that softened her face somewhat, “I feel closer to Albus here.”

I didn’t reply as I watched my old teacher reach out and stroke the surface of the white marble, not unlike my own actions only minutes before, but this time it seemed a lot more personal. With that small action, it finally hit me how close my two favourite professor’s probably were – had been – which started a whole new train of thought.

“You and Professor Dumbledore were very fond of each other,” I say softly and I’m sure she’s about to cry.

“He was an incredible man and a very, very dear friend,” the professor tells me sadly.

“Were you and him ever anything more than just friends?” I ask, then blush terribly as I realise what I’ve just said. Sometimes it’s hard to believe I’m actually quite intelligent.

Professor McGonagall looked at me strangely, as if she was working out whether to scold me or hug me, and then her face seemed to lose its normally hard veneer.

“No, Miss Granger, we weren’t,” she admits, “though there was a time, in the beginning, where I wished we were. Albus was a very charismatic fellow.”

“Were you in love?” Honestly, what had come over me?

“Oh, I was,” Professor McGonagall replied with a small smile that I had never seen before, “but his heart belonged to another, someone I could never compete with…”

“Sounds familiar,” I mumble under my breath, making her look at me sharply.

“Pardon?”

“Nothing Professor,” I quickly say before quickly moving the conversation back onto her, “I didn’t know the headmaster had been married?”

“Oh, he wasn’t. Albus and Viviane were only courting when she died. It all happened a long, long time before I met him.”

“Died?”

“They were only teenagers yet Albus would talk of her as if it was all only yesterday. Even after all that time, one could see how much he still cared.”

“He always seemed so happy…”

“Oh, he was,” she smiled once more, “he saw life as just one great adventure, which was one of the reasons that I held him with such high esteem. He was an old man, by our standards, when I met him first and I must say my infatuation was quite complete,” she chuckled softly, “oh, I was such a fool.”

“Did he know how you felt?”

“Albus was a very perceptive man, Miss Granger,” Professor McGonagall informs me in her usual brisk manner.

I nod as I think about the interactions of Professor McGonagall and Professor Dumbledore. You could tell they respected each other and you could tell that they had been comfortable in each other’s presence but as I think hard about every time I saw them, at no stage did I think they had been a couple. Would that be Harry and I in forty years time? Would we be such good friends that we know everything about the other without going any further than just friendship? Would he be the powerful, incredible wizard and I the spinster witch who never quite got over him?

“You need not go down the same road as I have, Hermione.”

I look up at Professor McGonagall and she is looking right back at me, her eyes piercing mine. She doesn’t flinch or look away from me and I see something that is a mixture of the stern teacher I’ve known for seven years and someone who knows exactly what I’m going through. But how could she? Never, at any stage, have I mentioned my feelings for Harry. Never have Harry and I done anything remotely romantic, ever. Unless she’s read my mind, there was no way she would know.

“I…I don’t understand,” I stammer, trying to hide my shock.

“Why don’t we sit down and relax,” was the answer, shocking me further. With a wave of her wand, two deck chairs appear, facing outwards toward the lake. The professor sits herself down and waits as I, still greatly confused, sit next to her.

I follow her gaze at the water and think about all that has gone on – my conversation with Harry, the knowledge that Professor McGonagall had had unrequited feelings for Professor Dumbledore and that she has actually talked to me about it. Could it get any stranger? Evidently it could.

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Harry

I didn’t hear Mrs Weasley the first time she called my name as I was fixated on the spot where Hermione had stood moments before, not quite believing what had just happened. Two things kept repeating through my mind, both as confusing as the other. One, Hermione likes me. I mean, she must do if she’s upset because she thinks she’s not good enough for me, right? Which brings me to number two – she thinks she’s not good enough for me? That’s just…

“Harry, dear,” Mrs Weasley interrupts my thoughts as she comes up to me and touches my arm, “are you alright?”

I look into the worried face of the woman who is now like a mother to me without seeing her at all. Suddenly a coherent thought enters my brain and I act on it instantly.

“I need to talk to Ron,” I blurt out and without waiting for a response, I hurry back into the house, find Ron talking to his dad, drag him away with little explanation or apology, force him through the house until we get to what is now my room (it used to be the twins room until they left to live over their shop) which I push him into, shut the door, cast a very strong silencing spell and then start pacing frantically.

“She thinks she’s not good enough for me,” I begin, not having to explain who ‘she’ is.

“Yeah, I can see tha…”

“How can she think she isn’t good enough for me?” I ask, really not aware that Ron had spoken, “I mean, she’s the brightest witch of the age! She came tops in Hogwarts! She’s brilliant!”

“True, but I think…”

“How can she think that? But…” I stop pacing and look at a shocked Ronald, “…that must mean she likes me, right?”

“Harry…”

“Do you think she likes me?” Something stops me then. Maybe it was the bemused look on Ron’s face, or even his smirk. But I think it was because I really wanted to know what he thought, whether I was on the right track or really quite barmy. However, instead of answering my question, my so-called best friend just laughs at me.

“What?” I splutter out with as much indignation as I can muster, “what’s so funny? Ron!”

“Sorry mate,” Ron chuckles, making his way to the only chair in the room where he sits down and stretches his long legs out in front of him, “but you’re really quite hilarious.”

“I’m glad my life is of amusement to you,” I mutter as I sit down on my bed feeling pretty bloody miserable. Ron must have finally worked out that I’m not really in a joking sort of mood as he stops laughing and sits upright.

“Look,” he begins, sounding quite serious, “Hermione likes you Harry, even I can see that. She nearly went mental when Ginny touched your leg just before and she’s being acting more and more barmy around you since you came out of hospital. Even before that, actually. And I thought I was the dense one…”

“Do you really think so?” I tried to confirm, ignoring the whole ‘dense’ comment as I tended to agree with him. Honestly, I don’t have a clue sometimes.

“Yes, I really think so,” Ron smirked, “so, did you ask her to the Ball?”

“No,” I told him, slumping down dejectedly, “she kind of knocked me for six with the whole ‘not good enough’ thing. How can she even think that Ron?”

“Well, look who you’ve dated,” Ron tells me patiently, like he is the expert on girls now that he’s with Luna, “first off, Cho Chang – gorgeous, smart, a year older than you and to top it off she was a seeker…”

“Yeah, but…”

“…then you go out with my sister,” his face screws up in slight disgust, “who I guess is pretty and a bit too popular with blokes and not to mention she also understands and loves Quidditch…”

“Yeah, but…”

“…and then there’s Hermione,” Ron pauses for effect and I scowl at him – which he ignores, “she is smart, yeah, but she isn’t really that popular and to be frank, not that much to look at. And she only watches Quidditch because of you – she doesn’t like it and doesn’t really understand it. She probably thinks that you wouldn’t want her because she is so different from the girls you’ve been out with before.”

Ron stops speaking and I start to process what he had just said. It makes kind of sense.

“It doesn’t matter to me that Hermione doesn’t like Quidditch,” I say after a moment of thought, “and she’s as pretty as Cho and Ginny.”

“Have you told her that?” Ron asks quietly and I slump down further.

“No,” I whisper, my heart sinking.

“She needs to know, Harry.”

I nod dejectedly and sigh.

“When did you get so smart?” I groan, wallowing in my own self pity.

“Since I started going out with Luna,” Ron smiled, “she told me all this stuff and it makes sense. You two really need sort your selves out.”

“How?”

“Look,” Ron starts, sitting upright and facing me directly, “she’s promised to help you with your speech and she has never, ever turned away from you when you need help. Send her an owl asking to see her and when she gets here, I’ll keep Ginny out the way and you two can have a chat.”

I think about the plan for a moment and see the wisdom in it. Hermione did promise to help with the stupid speech and there is no way she would turn her back on me now. With a new sense of optimism, I quickly jot out a note and give it to Hedwig to take to Hermione. Feeling a bit more hopeful, I sit with Ron and discuss ways of keeping Ginny away from me.

A/N – just another thanks to those who have reviewed. I’m not too sure how this chapter will be received but here it goes!! I hope you enjoy.

Chapter 3 - Conversations

Hermione

“Are you looking forward to the Ball next Saturday, Miss Granger?”

I turn to the professor and frown – how did we get onto the Ball?

“No, not really,” I reply, looking back out to the lake.

“Oh, I would have thought it would be something to look forward to,” she continues, “a chance to dress up and dance with young Mr Potter…”

“Harry?” I blurt, quite loudly actually, turning to her so sharply I’m sure I’ve put my neck out, “why would you think I’d be dancing with Harry? For one, he hates to dance. Two, he can’t dance. And three, he’s not mine to dance with!”

“Are you not attending the ball with Mr Potter?”

“Of course not!” She looks at me with a frown.

“You make it sound like the concept is beyond all semblance of normality,” she tells me, “why is it so absurd that I would think Mr Potter would be going with you to the Victory Ball? You are both friends, very good friends so I understand. To me it makes perfect sense.”

“I don’t see why,” I pout as all my earlier insecurities return ten fold, “he would never go to something like that with someone like me.”

“Codswallop,” the professor snaps.

“Pardon?”

“I said, codswallop,” she confirmed for me, “what’s this nonsense about Mr Potter not going with someone like you? He would be honoured to be seen with you on his arm!”

“No he wouldn’t,” I fire back, forgetting that she is a highly respected teacher, “he doesn’t fancy girls like me!”

“Mr Potter doesn’t ‘fancy’ intelligent, pretty and totally capable young women? If he is anything like his father, I find that very hard to believe!”

“I’m not pretty!”

We look at each other in silence and I’m sure the look on her face is mirrored on mine – stubborn determination. For me, I’m determined not to believe that my favourite teacher thinks I would be good enough for Harry, because I’m not. Sure, I can’t see him with an airhead or with someone who can’t take care of themselves…

“So you feel Mr Potter is so shallow that he would only court someone who is beautiful?”

“Of course not,” I say, bristling at the ‘shallow’ comment, “but he is attracted to athletic, gorgeous girls…”

“You are an attractive young lady, Miss Granger…”

“No I’m not.”

“Yes you are.”

“No I’m not.”

“Yes you…”

“I’m not good enough for Harry!” I scream, angrily standing and beginning to pace, “I’m not good enough for him and never will be! I have given him everything of me and he gives me nothing! I would do anything he asks of me and the one thing I want him to ask, the one thing that would make everything right, will never happen because I’m not beautiful! Sometimes I’m not even that smart! I don’t deserve him!”

“I never realised your self esteem is so low…”

“Oh, come on!” I fume, turning to her – really angry now, “the brightest witch of my age? The girl with the hair the looks like a combination of a birds nest and the head of Medusa? The girl who had buck teeth until the age of fifteen? Bossy! Know-it-all! Determined to quash all fun because it may be against the rules! Mudblood! I’ve heard it all! Why would I have self-esteem issues?

“I spend all my time with two boys who didn’t even realise I was a girl until Viktor asked me out! Ron spent ages dancing around me, acting like he liked me but when he had his chance he chooses Lavender bloody Brown!

“Meanwhile, Harry fancied first Cho then Ginny, both perfect, both everything I’ll never be! Neither of them chose me! The girl that they spent all their time with! Oh no, I’m just a friend, like a sister to them and do you know why? Because I’m not like those girls and I’ll never be like those girls and no-one wants a girl like me!”

Exhausted by my rant, I hide my face in my hands and try frantically to cry quietly. My back is towards the professor and although I feel some embarrassment from my outburst, I really just don’t care anymore. I’ve had enough of today, I really have.

“It seems I’ve been somewhat deluded,” the professor says after a few moments.

“Wha..at do you mean?”

“From the moment you walked into my classroom, I saw a lot of myself in you,” she continued and I listen in numb shock, “independent, intelligent but maybe somewhat socially inept. When you were befriended by Harry Potter, and of course Mr Weasley, I admit I was a bit concerned. I knew of Harry’s past and suspected what his future held. What I knew of your nature made me wonder how long the friendship would last.

“However, you three became inseparable with each of you influencing the other in positive ways – those two boys would not have done so well in their schoolwork if it wasn’t for you while they showed you how to relax somewhat.

“I have taught at this school for over forty years and one knows a teacher is not supposed to have favourites, but you, Miss Granger – I couldn’t help but watch your progress with interest.

“I watched a shy, uncertain little girl grow into what I thought was a beautiful, confident young woman.

“Though your intelligence could never be brought into question, how you applied your knowledge in combative situations, well, there were concerns. Yet you’ve proved in this final year that you are more than competent in defending yourself.

“Your loyalty to Harry is to be commended and your reign as prefect then Head Girl was exemplary.

“The world is at your feet Miss Granger. All you need to do is have the confidence to reach out and grab it.”

I look at my old teacher with my tears still running down my face – she looks back at me with a small smile.

“Do…do you really mean all those things?” I ask her – not quite believing anyone other than my parents actually would.

“I don’t say things I don’t mean, Miss Granger.”

This is true. With a large sigh, I sit back down and look at my hands in my lap.

“If I’m all that,” I whisper, too scared to talk any louder, “if I am beautiful and confident and all those things, why hasn’t Harry chosen me?”

“So you are placing you whole self worth into the decisions of a young man?” the professor asks me softly, placing one of her hands on my arm, “Hermione, the most important person in your life, the one person that you need to ensure you like – love even – is you.”

I look up at her, “Me?”

“Yes,” she smiles, “how can you expect anyone else to see what a wonderful person you are if you can’t see it yourself? Now, we’re not talking about loving who you are as much as Gilderoy Lockheart because, quite frankly, that is just wrong. What I mean is being comfortable with who you are, proud of who you are and know that you are the best you can be.”

I deflate somewhat.

“I am smart,” I admit.

“Very smart.”

“But not about life, you know?” I look at her sadly, “I mean, look at the mess I’ve got myself in now. If I was really smart, I wouldn’t be here, crying to you.”

“Hermione, you are only eighteen years old,” the professor tells me and I’m sure there’s a twinkle in her eye, “experience makes you smart about life not books. You, along with your two friends, are mature way above your years…”

“Even Ron?” I interrupt before I could stop myself.

“Even Ron,” she chuckles, “though perhaps he is a little bit behind yourself and Mr Potter,” suddenly the twinkle is gone and is replaced with a sadness, “you have all seen and faced horrors that no-one, especially those so young, should ever have to face. This has forced you all to grow up too quickly. But life still has a lot to teach you. You can’t know everything at eighteen Miss Granger. Even Professor Dumbledore, who had lived a long, long time, would confess that he still had a lot to learn.”

I look at my old teacher and I understand – she’s right, of course. Sometimes I forget that I’m a teenager because for so long we had to think of saving the world, especially last year when our lives consisted of Horcruxes and Voldemort.

“Will you teach me?” I ask after a few moments.

“It’s not something that one learns in a day, Miss Granger,” she tells me kindly, “but I can show you the tools needed. It will be up to you as to whether you wish to use them or not.”

“I just want to be happy…”

“Happiness comes from within.”

I nod then listen, and talk, then listen some more. I spend the rest of the day sitting with Professor McGonagall on the banks of the Black Lake with Professor Dumbledore’s tomb gleaming behind us. When I leave Hogwarts late that afternoon, I feel lighter somewhat and a whole lot happier within myself.

Hedwig is waiting for me when I get home with a note from Harry asking if he could see me, that we need to talk. It takes all my self control not to rush over to the Burrow and ask him what’s wrong. Instead I send a note back saying that I couldn’t tonight and tomorrow I was spending with my parents but I’d see him soon.

The thing was, it wasn’t a lie. I had already vowed to spend more time with mum and dad because I had cast them aside so often the last few years. We planned to catch the train to Cornwall and spend the day at the beach. Which we did and you know something, it was brilliant.

When we got home, there were two owls waiting for me – one from Harry and one from Professor McGonagall. I opened hers first and smiled at her invite back to Hogwarts the next day. I resist the urge to say yes immediately and instead take the note of Hedwig’s leg and read it. Harry asks again to see me, that it’s important.

I stop and think.

For so long I’ve spent my life making sure Harry was okay – he has Ginny to make sure he’s okay now. The most important thing on my mind at the moment is making sure I’m okay.

I tell the professor I’ll see her tomorrow and then let Harry know that I’ve got something on and I’ll see him later.

Monday, mum and dad leave for work and at a reasonable hour, I head off to Hogwarts. With the weather a bit overcast, Professor McGonagall and I spend our time in the castle but continue where we left off the other day and once more I learn a lot more about myself. When I get home, there are no owls and I feel a bit disappointed but realise there is nothing I can do about it so shake it off and go and make my parents dinner.

My mother had organised Tuesday off and we spent the day shopping. I began telling her what I was doing at Hogwarts and our conversation turns to self development and self awareness. We spent all afternoon sitting in a park, watching the swans and talking. I don’t think I’ve ever talked as much as I have the past few days.

The thing is, it felt brilliant, like I was releasing something I had been holding onto for a long time. I realised that night as I lay in bed that in fact I was releasing something. I could never really talk to Ron or Harry about how I felt, and after my spat with Ginny in my sixth year, I lost her as a confidant as well. Now it just felt good getting rid of all the frustration that I had been feeling.

Wednesday was back at Hogwarts. We spent the day in Professor McGonagall’s private quarters which was really quite a privilege. It was exactly how I picture her home to be – tidy, efficient with little bits of quaintness dotted around. We spent our day reminiscing about our lives, with hers obviously dominating but her stories were so fascinating that I was enthralled. Sworn to secrecy on most of her tales, my respect for Professor McGonagall grew immensely. She is quite a remarkable woman.

I left Hogwarts to the sound of workmen getting ready for the Victory Ball that coming Saturday. Seeing them brought me back down with a thump at the memory of what lay ahead.

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Harry

When I got the first owl back telling me she couldn’t make it because she had planned to spend time with her parents, I was okay. I remembered she had told me of the planned trip to Cornwall and it was understandable that she wanted to spend some time with her mum and dad.

But when I got the second decline, my heart sank. Ron’s brilliant plan had failed; Hermione didn’t want to see me. For the first time in over seven years, Hermione had turned her back on me.

My life is now officially bollocks.

Ron tried talking me into owling her a third time because there was no way she would refuse a third request. Something inside me told me she would. Meanwhile Ginny seemed to make it her personal mission to cheer me up and started following me around every where with little peppy speeches that instead of making me feel better, made me want to just throttle her.

Which is why I’m locked in my room, on my own, staring out of the window and ignoring the blank bit of parchment in front of me that should have some semblance of a speech on it. The speech was really the furthest thing from my mind (or to put it another way, every time I went to write something, I thought of Hermione and my thoughts went elsewhere) but I knew I had to start. Pretty soon.

Sighing, I made myself think of what I wanted to say to those who were going to be at this stupid Ball and I really didn’t know. My thoughts (or lack of them) were jarred by a tap on my door and with some trepidation and fear that it might be Ginny, I asked who was there. When Remus replied, I let out the breath that I didn’t realise I was holding and opened the door.

“Hey Harry,” he greeted me fondly, making his way into the room, “how’s it going?”

“Brilliant,” I mutter as I shut the door and re-ward it.

“Arthur and Molly are a bit worried that you’ve locked yourself in your room for the last few days,” he tells me as he sits on my bed and I return to my desk.

“Well they don’t need to be,” I reply, “I have to write this stupid speech and with Ginny bothering me every two seconds…I just needed to be alone.”

Remus looks at me strangely and I could see he was trying to work out if I was telling him the truth. I was, but perhaps not the whole truth. Yesterday I had yelled at Ginny to leave me alone after she had started to have a go at Hermione and now I think the whole Weasley clan have cottoned on to my more than friendly feelings towards my best friend. Therefore it was only a matter of time before the whole wizarding world also knew – well, at least Remus and other members of the Order any way.

“Any luck with the speech?” Remus asks and the threat of a heart to heart about my love life is thwarted.

“No,” I sigh, “I don’t really know what I want to say. Hermione was supposed to help me…”

So of course I bring Hermione back into the conversation when I didn’t really need to. Idiot.

“Ah,” my old professor says knowingly, “there was mention downstairs of the somewhat absent Miss Granger. It’s not like her to not help you with a task.”

“No, it isn’t,” I reply a bit more tersely than I meant to.

“Harry, is everything alright?”

I look at Remus and want to say, no, everything isn’t alright. I live in a house with my ex-girlfriend who wants to get back together with me while the girl I really like isn’t talking to me. On top of that I have to make a stupid speech at a stupid Ball only two days away and I haven’t written a word. Instead I mutter

“I’m fine.”

He doesn’t believe me and that’s okay with me. Remus is good at not poking and prodding until I tell him the truth. Unlike Hermione.

Damn.

“Right,” he smiles, playing along with the lie, “then I’ll leave you to it. My suggestion with the speech? Just say what’s important to you…”

“I’m not sure the wizarding world wants to know what’s important to me,” I interrupt with a scowl.

“Who cares about what the wizarding world want?” Remus smiles as he stands, “I think you’ve done quite enough for the wizarding world Harry.”

“Yeah,” I agree and leave it at that.

“You take care,” Remus continues, heading for the door, “and if you ever need someone to talk to, you know I’m here.”

“Yeah,” I say again, “thanks.”

Remus just nods and leaves. I sit there for a moment and look at the closed door. Just write what’s important to me, which would be the people who have helped me and who have believed in me from the start. That was what was important and suddenly I knew what I wanted to say.

Casting new charms on my door, I turned to the blank piece of parchment and began to write.

A/N – thanks for the reviews, I’m glad people are liking it. Enjoy.

Chapter 4 – Changes

Hermione

When I got home it wasn’t an owl waiting for me, but a Weasley. Ginny to be exact.

“Ginny,” I welcome, surprised, “what are you doing here?”

“We were getting worried,” she replies, getting up from the deck chair she had been sitting in, “so I thought I’d come and see if you’re alright.”

“Oh, I’m fine,” I tell her, smiling because for once that was the truth, “just busy.”

“Right.”

I wait.

“Do you want to come in for a cup of tea?”

“No, thank you,” she says, looking at me strangely, “I better head off. Have you chosen what you’re wearing on Saturday?”

“Um, not yet,” I reply truthfully, “I haven’t really thought about it that much. You?”

“The green robes. The ones that match Harry’s eyes.”

And there it is, the real reason she’s here – Ginny Weasley is marking her territory. I know Harry, I know him probably better than he knows himself, and I know he will be worried about my lack of response to seeing him. Ginny probably sees that as a threat and has now told me that he is hers. My heart doesn’t break and instead I just smile at her.

“I’m sure you’ll look beautiful.”

She smiles one of her dazzling smiles, seemingly content that she had achieved what she had come to achieve, and with a wave of her wand, she’s gone. Sighing, I enter the house and although I feel a bit sad, I tell myself that Harry has made his choice and I’m not doing myself any favours by dwelling on what may have been. I need to concentrate on me. So I take a deep breath, try and dislodge the picture of Ginny looking amazing in her emerald green robes, and start dinner.

The two days before the Ball I spend on my own. I go to the shops or I sit in the park and think, write or read. I begin to enjoy the time with myself and the chance to sort things out in my mind. By the time Saturday comes around, I’m sure I have my emotions in check and know I will be able to see Harry with Ginny. Together.

Mum and I head off into town for me to get my hair and make-up done. We thought I should splash out as I am one of those honoured at the stupid Ball so I might as well look my best.

We go to the hairdresser’s first and as Cindy, our family hairdresser, asks me what I want I pause. Over the last week during the many conversations I’ve had, the subject of my hair was often brought up. I hate it and it was suggested that I use it as a shield to hide behind. I tended to agree with that totally. So as I sit looking at myself in the mirror, I make a decision. A pretty radical decision. I tell Cindy to cut it all off.

As I watch big hunks of my hair fall to the floor, I sit there terrified. I’m sensible, stable Hermione Granger! I don’t do wild things like change the hairstyle I’ve had since I was five! What am I thinking? My heart rate is over the roof and I can see mum watching intently in the reflection of the mirror. When Cindy moves away from me and the three of us stare into the mirror, I gasp.

It isn’t me. The girl looking back at me has cheek bones, and these huge eyes, and a little bridge of freckles on her nose.

“Hermione, you look stunning,” Cindy tells me, making my eyes flicker to her then mum.

“You are quite the beautiful young lady,” my mum breaths and I look back at my reflection.

That part of me I’ve been trying to quell the past week tells me that now I definitely don’t look like the other girls who all have long, flowing hair. No girl has short, cropped hair like me. I look like a boy.

But the thing is, I don’t look like a boy and I already looked different because of the mess of hair that would never be long or flowing. I tell that negative part of me to shut up.

We head over to the department store where I’m going to get my make-up done. They make my eyes look bigger and accentuate my newly found cheek bones. Even I have to admit that I look pretty good.

When we get home, I’m sure my dad is about to burst into tears as he gushes over how his little girl has grown up. I give him a reassuring hug then head to my room.

I’ve chosen the purple robes and begin to get ready. The under-robes are just like a dress – sweetheart neckline, tight fitting bodice and long, floor length skirt all in a soft silk for the summer evening. The robe is also light and soft, slightly see through so the dress is visible. It shows the curves I’ve developed over the years and for once I’m glad about the war – the constant exercise for battle training has made me pretty toned.

My neck feels strange without the mass of hair keeping it warm and although I keep running a hand over my new cut, I realise I actually like it. I feel like a grown-up.

Ready, I say goodbye to my parents then Apparate to Hogsmead where we had chosen to meet. Of course I’m the first one there – Weasley’s are never on time. The Ministry had put aside a room for us in the Three Broomsticks that couldn’t be accessed by reporters, or dear I say it – fans. I stand staring out the window at the hustle and bustle of Hogmead’s streets as those invited to the Ball make their way hurriedly to Hogwarts while those who weren’t invited are probably waiting to see us. The Trio.

Sighing, I nervously smooth down the front of my robes when the pops of Apparation start. Turning, it’s Fred and George that arrive first. They see me and I blush.

“Er, sorry,” one of them says, “but you’re not meant to be in…”

“Fred,” George stops him, “that’s Hermione!” I blush more as they both come over to me, more Weasley’s arriving behind them.

“Blimey, so it is! You look…”

“Wicked!”

Mr and Mrs Weasley appear and they all are look at me curiously. It’s strangely quiet – Harry, Ron, Ginny and Luna aren’t there yet.

“Um,” I begin, trying to break the tension, “I thought I’d try something different,” I run a hand over my hair, “do you like it?”

“You look beautiful,” Mr Weasley says and I love him because I can see the truth in his eyes. I give the man a hug and normal conversation begins in the room. Still in Mr Weasley’s arms, I hear more pops and I know Harry and the others have arrived. Pulling away, I see the black hair among the sea of red and just as I look over at him, a pathway clears and he can see me.

We stare at each other and his eyes widen slightly as he recognises me – I blush once more. Ginny pulls herself closer to him and I look at her. She is indeed beautiful, her hair in a lovely knot on her head, her robes accentuating all the right things. She and Harry look fantastic together.

“Crikey Hermione,” Ron exclaims, making his way towards me and breaking any connection Harry and I have, “what the bloody hell have you done?”

“I cut my hair,” I explain as he runs one of his huge hands over my scalp, which I swat away.

“I know I’m pretty thick but even I can see that!”

“It looks smashing,” Luna tells me and I smile at her.

“Why?” Ron continues and I look back to him, “I mean, what was wrong with you hair how it was? Sure, it sometimes looked like something was nesting in there…”

“Thanks Ron.”

“…but it was you. And now it’s gone!”

“I decided I needed a change,” I tell him as I look past Ron to Harry, who still hasn’t said a word.

“Well, good on you Hermione,” Ginny pipes up, hanging onto Harry’s arm, “it takes a brave person to try and pull that hair style off.”

I think there’s a compliment in there somewhere.

“Right you lot,” Mrs Weasley (thankfully) interrupts, “we’re off. Ginny and Luna, you need to come with us. You three will be going in a separate carriage.”

I stand back a bit and let Harry and Ron say their goodbyes while I say my own to the various Weasley’s that pass me. I watch Ginny trying to get a response from Harry who seems lost in his thoughts. I smile to myself as she storms off but then falter as he looks back at me. He still hasn’t spoken.

Soon it was only Harry, Ron and myself. Ron, dear Ron, decides to make small talk.

“So, what have you been up to Hermione?” he asks me and I drag my eyes off Harry to look at Ron.

“Oh, I spent some time with my parents, some time on my own…”

“You promised to help me with my speech.”

Oh God. Oh no, oh no, oh no. I look at Harry in horror as I remember my promise to him the moment he was told it would be nice if he could make a speech at this stupid Ball. He had been terrified at the thought of standing up in front of everybody and speaking so I had said I would help him, that I would be there for him. And I had forgotten.

“Harry,” I begin, “I’m so, so sorry! I forgot…”

“That’s okay,” he says, his tone void of any emotion, “I understand. You had other, more important things,” he glances at my hair, “it doesn’t matter.”

“It does matter,” I correct, nearly close to tears, “I just got caught up in all my own…stuff…”

“That’s fine, it really is. I just…this is a pretty big deal.”

“I know,” my voice hitches as I walk over to him, close but not touching, “I’m so sorry.”

I felt so guilty and although I knew I had the right to think of myself first for once, it had been a promise and I let him down. His eyes searched mine and after a moment, he gave me a lopsided smile. I was forgiven.

“You deserve some time for yourself,” he says, as if reading my mind, “and I guess now the speech is truly how I feel about everything.”

“I’m glad they didn’t want us all to say something,” Ron pipes in, hands shoved in his pockets and his face scrunched up in disgust. I nod absently, glad when a knock makes us all look towards the door. Ron goes and answers it while I grab my purse and make my way to the Ministry driver who was to escort us to Hogwarts.

I nearly make it out the door when Harry stops me by a touch on the arm. My heart starts beating far too quickly as I turn to see what he wants. He’s so close to me I can smell his after shave and I melt. There is something in his eyes that I haven’t seen before as he studies me for a moment. He lets go of me.

“You look beautiful,” he whispers, a blush making him look even cuter than he already is.

I gasp involuntarily – Harry has told me I’m not ugly, even told me I was pretty once last year. But never, ever has he told me I was beautiful. I’m ready to shrug the comment off, discard it as if he didn’t mean it, that it was a mistake. But something told me it wasn’t.

“Thank you,” I hear myself say and he smiles a small half smile. I smile back then follow Ron, who is waiting for us down the hall, allowing us to have our ‘moment’. Sometimes he’s not as insensitive as, well, most of the other times.

We leave the security of our floor into the madness of waiting press and excited people. The boys instinctively surround me and protect me from any harm as we make our way to the waiting carriage. I think my appearance confuses many as some ask Harry and Ron where I am. They don’t answer but just smile as we enter the quietness of the threstal drawn carriage. I can see the strange creatures now, something that I wished wasn’t the case.

The journey to the castle was made in relative silence – well, Harry and I were silent while Ron caught me up with the going ons. He was to start work at the Ministry a week Monday and was quite excited about it.

Every now and then, I would glance at Harry who I knew was doing the same as sometimes we would catch each other and give each other embarrassed smiles. Something was going on with him and for the first time I really didn’t know what.

All thoughts disappeared however, when I saw the castle. It was beautiful, lit up in fantastic splendour. The carriage stopped and the door opened. Harry hopped out first and took my hand as he helped me down. Ron followed and as the three of us stood at the foot of the stairs, we looked at each other with resigned fear.

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Harry

I was so angry! Unbelievably angry! She tells me over breakfast like it meant nothing, knowing full well that her little visit was totally out of order. When did Ginny become a right cow? I mean, she wasn’t always this vindictive…was she?

Ron had to hold me back because I swear I was going to slap her smug smile off her smug face. It seemed to please her no end that Hermione wasn’t dying or in some mortal peril – she had just forgotten me and the speech. Sure, on some level that hurt. But Ginny had no right and now as I fume in my room, going over the conversation at breakfast in my head, I wonder just exactly what went on when Ginny showed up on the Granger doorstep.

I hope it didn’t upset Hermione too much.

What a mess.

Sighing, I sit down at my desk and look at the speech that is slowly taking shape. It’s Thursday now so I’m cutting it a bit fine but I pretty happy with it. Really happy with it actually. All I need to do is get Hermione to listen to what I have to say.

The rest of Thursday and Friday go past with a flurry of final robe fittings and some laughs with Ron as we muck around on our brooms. I had decided to chance it in the open now my speech was done and after the argument with her, Ginny finally backed off.

Saturday, however, was another story. The women in the Weasley house seemed to go mental as they started getting ready for the Ball from the moment they woke. I joined the other males and tried to keep out of their way as much as possible.

Ginny started a new campaign to get me to go with her. Even though it was putting her way out of schedule, she kept trying to convince me that I couldn’t turn up alone, that I needed to have her on my arm, that even Ron had someone and that I would look stupid showing up with no one.

I did my best to ignore her.

Finally she left to get dressed and Ron and I got into our dress robes. I must admit that we scrubbed up pretty well, Ron and I, and in half an hour we were ready. Joining the others in the living room (well, the other men though Luna was there looking slightly…unique in her spangly cream gown with bottlecap necklace and matching earrings) we waited patiently for the girls.

We were getting later and later and I could see that even Mr Weasley was getting slightly anxious. Luna was sent to see how much longer when the decision was made that we would start Apparating to the Three Broomsticks, where we were to meet. Fred and George went first, then Charlie, Bill and Fleur. A flustered Mrs Weasley went with her husband and suddenly it was only Ron, Luna, Ginny and me. Great.

Though when Ginny came down the stairs in this really nice green set of robes, my heart skipped a beat or two. She looked amazing and she definitely isn’t a little girl anymore. When she smiled at me, I nearly gave in – but not quite. She wasn’t Hermione.

“My, don’t you look handsome,” she says to me, looking up at me in a very disconcerting way.

“Thanks Gin,” Ron says for me, draping his arm across Luna’s shoulders, “but thanks to you, we’re late.”

“I had to look my best now, didn’t I,” she purrs, holding on to my arm, “shall we go?”

I look down on her and she looks so enchanting, flooding my mind with a stream of memories of the short time we spent together. But as I search her eyes, I see more than just a want of going to the Ball with me so I won’t be alone. I see victory and I get the feeling I’m a prize she had just thought she’d won. Still frowning at this thought, she Apparates us both to Hogsmead with Ron and Luna doing the same.

We arrive and the first thing I notice is the strange woman hugging Mr Weasley. Thinking it was probably someone from the Ministry that he was saying hello to, I began to look for Hermione. After a quick scan of the room, I couldn’t see her and a slither of panic began to form until the woman with Mr Weasley turned around.

It was Hermione.

She had cut her hair and she looked incredible, the most beautiful girl I had ever seen. Even Fleur, with her veela heritage, didn’t come close to how amazing Hermione looked.

Stunned, I can’t think at all as all my blood leaves my head and makes its way to other parts of my body, allowing me only to stare. Vaguely aware that Ginny is still by my side holding onto my arm, I don’t even have the mental capability to push her away. All I can deal with at this point of time is the sight of my very female best friend.

“Crikey Hermione,” my other best friend exclaims and I cringe inwarrdly, “what the bloody hell have you done?”

There we are, the Ron Weasley tact.

“I cut my hair,” she tells him unnecessarily as she hits away Ron’s hand that dares to touch that head that really no male except I should be able to touch. Hopefully. One day.

“I know I’m pretty thick but even I can see that!” Ron answers, rubbing his injured hand.

“It looks smashing,” Luna cuts in and something inside me does a little flip-flop thing as Hermione smiles her thanks, making her look even more fantastic.

“Why?” Ron continues and I look at him, willing him to stop speaking before he says something stupid, “I mean, what was wrong with you hair how it was? Sure, it sometimes looked like something was nesting in there…”

Too late. A small cloud covers her face and the Hermione of old makes an appearance as she scowls with a terse “thanks Ron,” which he ignores and carries on

“…but it was you. And now it’s gone!”

“I decided I needed a change,” she says and looks directly at me, wanting me to say something but I can’t. Her eyes tell me she is still uncertain and needs my reassurance but before I say anything, Ginny speaks up.

“Well, good on you Hermione,” Ginny says and I finally realise she is still hanging onto my arm, “it takes a brave person to try and pull that hair style off.”

That didn’t sound very complimentary.

“Right you lot,” Mrs Weasley interrupts in her no nonsense manner, grabbing my attention, “we’re off. Ginny and Luna, you need to come with us. You three will be going in a separate carriage.”

I’m going to be alone with her. Well, sure, Ron will be there – but there will be no Ginny or Mr and Mrs Weasley…bloody hell. What should I do? What should I say? I have no idea, not really, even though this is the same girl who I have spent the last seven years sharing my life with.

I just realise how stupid I was being when Ginny finally leaves me not looking too happy. Oh well.

Now it was only Hermione, Ron and myself and since I still couldn’t find my voice, Ron takes up the slack.

“So, what have you been up to Hermione?” he asks as I continue to stare at her, trying to get my brain in some sort of order. I need to say something.

“Oh, I spent some time with my parents, some time on my own…” she replies and it seems that Ginny was right, she did just forget me.

“You promised to help me with my speech,” I blurt out and both Hermione and Ron look at me – Ron with surprise and Hermione with horror.

Of all the things to say after all this time, ‘you promised to help me with my speech’ was probably the worse option. And after the look on her face, I wanted to take those words back so badly.

“Harry,” she nearly cries, “I’m so, so sorry! I forgot…”

Yep, she had just forgotten me but I realised that didn’t really matter. Hermione had been looking out for me since day one – it was time she did some things for herself.

“That’s okay,” I tell her, trying to make sure she sees how much it wasn’t an issue, “I understand. You had other, more important things. It doesn’t matter.”

“It does matter,” she replies, nearly close to tears, “I just got caught up in all my own…stuff…”

“That’s fine, it really is. I just…this is a pretty big deal.”

Good way to make her feel better, Potter. I am such an idiot.

“I know,” she agrees as she walks over to me, stopping close enough to touch, “I’m so sorry.”

I knew that she genuinely was, I could see it in those lovely eyes of hers. I could also see her guilt and something within me want to take that away. I needed her to know that she didn’t need to feel guilty, that I understood and that I was fine.

“You deserve some time for yourself,” I tell her with what I hoped was a forgiving smile, “and I guess now the speech is truly how I feel about everything.”

I see her relax and know she knows she is forgiven for putting herself first for once. Of course, that makes me feel like a selfish prat for expecting her to always put me first. However, before I can get lost in my own self-loathing, Ron speaks.

“I’m glad they didn’t want us all to say something,” he says, hands shoved in his pockets and his face scrunched up in disgust. I chuckle just as a knock interrupts us and we all look towards the door. As Ron goes and answers it, I watch Hermione grab her purse and something inside me stirs. Already this evening hasn’t gone exactly to plan thanks to my own inability to not be a git and I plan to make Hermione see how much I care before the madness of the night gets in the way.

She’s nearly to the door when I reach out and stop her. We’re standing very close to each other now and I’m sure she can hear my heart beating. When she turns to me, my thoughts disappear once more as all I want to do is kiss her. A lot. In fact, I would like to do more than kiss her because she is driving me barmy with that new haircut.

I let go of her and my senses return.

“You look beautiful,” I tell her softly, aware of the blush covering my face. She looks surprised by my comment, a small intake of air confirming this, but then she looks up at me shyly with a blush of her own.

“Thank you,” she whispers, making me smile. She smiles back and I feel like the king of the world. I feel amazing. Still floating, we make our way to Ron who was waiting for us down the hall. He gives me a small questioning look and I smile slightly in response, affirming his unspoken question about how I was going with Hermione.

Nothing more was spoken as we make our way through the bunch of people waiting to see us by the front door. Like so many times before, Ron and I sandwich Hermione between us, making sure she is out of harms way – the action is as natural as breathing and none of us question it.

Inside the carriage, Ron updates Hermione on the goings on while we keep stealing looks at each other. In the half light of the carriage, her face looks unlike a girls and more like a woman’s. She is growing up.

Before I knew it we were at the castle. I helped Hermione out of the carriage, the touch of her hand momentarily halting me, but then the ministry official comes to meet us and as one the three of us turn towards our old school and ready ourselves for what lay ahead.

A/N – well, I hope the speech doesn’t disappoint you all – I don’t think its quite what is expected, if the reviews are anything to go by. Thanks for the reviews, by the way, they rock!!

Chapter 5 – The Speech

Hermione

“Well, let’s get this over with,” Ron mumbles and Harry nods. A Ministry official is coming towards us and starts to chat as she takes us to the Great Hall.

I’m suddenly terrified. Inside sat hundreds, maybe thousands, of witches and wizards, all there to give thanks to us. I looked over at Ron and saw he was a deathly white while on my other side Harry just looked…resolved. His shoulders were back and he was standing rim-rod straight. His eyes were focused solely on the door in front of him and if he was nervous, he wasn’t showing it. I saw then, in his profile, the great leader he would one day be. My heart swelled with pride.

Seeing Harry like that gave me strength and I followed him by standing just that little bit straighter and readied myself for what lay ahead. The doors finally opened and as one, we began to walk in, Ron and I automatically letting Harry led us down the aisle made down the middle of the Great Hall. I didn’t let myself look at the faces that followed our progress, but I knew they were all on their feet and clapping. I could hear a few wolf whistles and wondered if they came from Fred and George.

I couldn’t help but smile.

Harry looked so handsome, so regal, as he walked toward the small stage at the head of the hall, his presence having everyone spell bound. It was an amazing feeling and I could see Ron felt it too as we shared a look during our walk down the aisle. We were proud of ourselves.

I sat down in the chair offered to me, sitting on Harry’s left side. The Minister spoke, but I didn’t really hear what he was saying as I gazed around at the tables before us. At the front were all the familiar faces that I loved and respected – and when I saw Professor McGonagall, she looked back at me with a teary smile.

Then it was Harry’s turn to speak, drawing my attention back to the young man at my side. He stood when his name was called, taking out some notes from his robes which I guess was his speech. Another wave of guilt ran through me, but I let it pass as Harry began.

“Thank you Minister, for those kind words.

“We are here tonight to celebrate the destruction of the evil that was Lord Voldemort. For me, it has been a journey of a life time, starting with the death of my parents and ending in a battle that took place only a month ago.

“When I first came here, to Hogwarts, I had no idea that I was famous or that I had a prophecy stating my future as a killer, but I was and I did. That knowledge was a struggle that I could not have managed on my own.

“Luckily, I wasn’t alone and from the moment I found out I was a wizard, I had a group of people with me, guiding me on an unknown and sometimes dangerous path but stayed with me anyway. It is these people I want to remember tonight.

“Rubeus Hagrid, my first introduction to the wizarding world and my first real magical friend. Hagrid has always been there for me, this wonderful constant when everything around me kept changing.

“Professor McGonagall seemed to see something in me worth fighting for, which she had to do time and time again both as her role as head of Gryffindor and a member of the Order. Along side her were the many teachers of this school who taught me a lot more than just classroom lessons.”

I look down at the professor and she was dabbing the corner of her eyes with a hanky, Hagrid wasn’t as subtle as he blew his nose loudly just when Harry had paused. Harry smiles down on them and continues.

“My classmates, especially Neville Longbottom and Luna Lovegood – you two were always steadfastly loyal even when you didn’t really know what you were getting into. I will always be grateful.

“Remus Lupin, one of my father’s best friends and hopefully I can say now one of mine. Always a steady head and calming presence, it’s an honour, Professor Lupin.” I smile at the use of Remus’s defunct title and I see our old professor give Harry a small nod of thanks.

“Tonks, Kingsley Shacklebolt and the many other Auror’s who fought by me, some paying the ultimate price, I salute you.

“Arthur and Molly Weasley, what can I say? You are my family. You welcomed me into your home without question and treated me as one of your own. I can never thank you enough for how much that meant to me and how you have shown me time and time again what love actually is. You and your family are an amazing, fantastic group of people who I am proud to know. Thank you all so much.”

Harry paused.

“But this journey hasn’t come without its sacrifices. I have lost some who were close to me, as many of you have, but as someone a lot wiser told me once those who we loved and have died, don’t truly leave us. As long as we keep their memories alive within ourselves, they are never far away.

“I have been told so many times of how I look like my father, but with my mothers eyes. That fact alone keeps my parents memory alive as does the stories I’ve heard over the years about what they were like before they died. They will never be forgotten.

“My godfather, Sirius Black, spent my lifetime paying the price for a crime he did not commit. My time with him was brief, but his impact on my world was huge. He will never be forgotten.

“But I guess my biggest loss was that of Albus Dumbledore. He had been my guide on this journey, showing me the way so many times. We didn’t always see eye to eye but it was his need to protect me and his love for me that kept me safe for so long. I knew Professor Dumbledore the longest and his loss changed my life. But more importantly, what he taught me when he was alive changed me even more. He was a brave, kind, compassionate man who I loved and respected. He will never be forgotten.”

Harry paused again and I felt a lone tear slide down my face. Ignoring it, I watched him breathe deeply and get himself back in control. It took a few moments but he did it and I let out the breath that I didn’t realise I was holding.

“While all those I’ve mentioned have helped me and been there for me on this journey, it was Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger, my two best friends, that were there for me the most.

“I met Ron on my first ever train ride to Hogwarts and I was so jealous of him. He knew all there was to know, or so I thought, about magic and had a family that cared for him. From that first meeting, he and I became mates. Although there were a few hiccups along the way, his loyalty and friendship helped me through some times when I was about to give up.

“Plus, he’s always good at making me smile.”

A ripple of laughter went through the hall and with a grin, I glanced at Ron. He also had a smile on his face, though it was somewhat more reflective, making him look so much older

“The initial meeting with Hermione wasn’t so smooth, but over the years my appreciation, admiration and respect for her has grown and grown. Scarily smart and fiercely loyal, it was always Hermione that thought of the spell needed to get us through whatever mess we were in. She constantly worried about me and my well being and at times it seemed she knew more about what I was feeling than I did myself. Willing to sacrifice her schooling, and nearly her life, for our quest, I don’t actually think she realises just how special she is to me…”

I was crying, though trying desperately not to. My eyes flickered down to Ginny who was also crying, but there was a hardness to her expression that was slightly scary. I quickly looked back to Harry who was still looking at his notes and continued to speak.

“I would have died in my first year if it wasn’t for both Ron and Hermione and I need them to know just how much I value their friendship and support. You are both amazing. Thank you.

“So tonight, as we enjoy this wonderful occasion, please remember those who are no longer with us and the sacrifices made so we could all live in peace.

“Thank you.”

Harry turned abruptly from the podium and went to sit down, but before he did I stood and began clapping wildly. In an instant, Ron was at my side and doing the same thing, making Harry pause and look at us with surprise. When the whole of the audience stood as well, we came together, the three of us, and hugged.

I could feel it, the bond between the three of us that I know will never diminish. It didn’t matter what happened in our futures, whether Harry and I end up together or not, or even if one of us chose to leave the country and start a life somewhere else – there would always be us, the Trio, and nothing could change that.

“Your speech was fantastic Harry,” I tell him, still engulfed in our group hug, “perfect.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard you say so much,” Ron says as we stand in a circle and smile at each other, oblivious of the still applauding crowd.

“I wanted to thank everyone, you know?” Harry replies, suddenly looking worried, “I didn’t go overboard, did I?”

“No, you didn’t,” I assure him and his smile returns. We break then, turning to the crowd of people before us. The Minister is talking once more but I wasn’t really listening – something has changed.

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Harry

I needed to focus. As we walked up the steps towards the Great Hall, I tried to do just that – focus. However, it was very difficult to focus when I was so aware of Hermione looking smashing and walking beside me. Plus it was nearly time for this stupid speech.

I think everyone who knows me would say I’m not much of a talker so the idea of me and a speech is just ridiculous. And I’m sure I’ve forgotten to mention some people that I shouldn’t have forgotten…

Too late now.

Before I knew it, we were standing in front of the doors to the Great Hall with the Ministry official giving me some last minute instructions that I tried to listen to but really, I didn’t hear a thing. Taking a deep breath, I tried even harder to focus, letting my mind calm and shut out all around me – like I did during the last year when not focusing may have cost me my life or the lives of Ron or Hermione….

Berating myself for thinking of the one person that I shouldn’t think of because at the moment thinking of her makes me want to do very un-platonic things to a very platonic female friend (meaning I’d lose it completely) I took another deep breath, stood straighter and tried to clear my mind once more.

When the doors opened, I had zoned out. Only vaguely aware of the people that were applauding as we walked down the make-shift aisle, I kept looking directly in front of me and no where else. We made our way to this little stage thing and sat down, allowing the Minister to do his speech. I didn’t hear a word as I continued to try and stop the urge to run out of the Hall screaming.

I saw the front table full of the people that meant the most but when I saw Professor McGonagall tear up, I quickly looked away.

Focus, that’s all I have to do. Focus on the speech and getting it done without making a fool of myself.

My name was called and with another deep breath, I took my notes out of my pocket, made my way to the podium and began to speak. I didn’t look up from what I had written (though allowed myself a smile when I heard Hagrid let out an all-mighty sob) and ploughed on.

Until I got to the point of remembering those that had died.

As I said the words, images of the people I was talking about passed through my mind – Sirius at Christmas, Dumbledore with his knowing smile and twinkling eyes, mum and dad…

The little slither of control I had was going and I desperately needed to get it back. I had to stop for a moment and focus, not letting my emotions take over. It took a moment or two before I felt it was safe to continue but since the next part of my speech was about Ron and Hermione, the emotions remained very close beneath the surface.

And then it was over. The relief was immense and the need to get off that stage was even more so. Still ‘focused’, I went to sit down but suddenly noticed that Ron and Hermione were standing and clapping wildly, Hermione with tears rolling down her cheeks.

Seeing them there, supporting me like they always did – my two best friends – I felt a wave of…love that made the stress of the speech and the occasion melt away. Our friendship was special and it didn’t matter what happened with Hermione and I, there would always be a bond between the three of us that would be near to impossible to break.

We came together and hugged, unaware of what was happening around us and where we actually were. It didn’t matter, it honestly didn’t matter. We had been through so much together and although it always seemed to be my name used with regards to the end of the war, it hadn’t been just me. It had never been just me and I hoped that now the both of them knew that.

“Your speech was fantastic Harry,” Hermione says, her voice muffled from our hug, “perfect.” I feel embarrassed but proud.

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard you say so much,” Ron adds, making me suddenly worry as our hug expand to the three of us standing in a circle, arms entwined.

“I wanted to thank everyone, you know?” I ask quickly, knowing I’m frowning as I dart my eyes between the two of them, “I didn’t go overboard, did I?”

“No, you didn’t,” Hermione assures me and I feel a final surge of relief. It was over.

I look out at the crowd now, not feeling so nervous because Ron and Hermione are by my side. I really see how many people were there and that they were all standing, applauding us.

It was finally over.

A/N – thank you for all the reviews and though a few thought this story ended with Chapter 5 – this is the last chapter. Hope you enjoy.

Chapter 6 – Happiness

Hermione

After all the formalities, we are excused from the stage and allowed to sit at the large table with the Weasley’s, Luna, Remus, Tonks, Professor McGonagall and Hagrid. Harry goes to the empty space next to Ginny while I sit between Hagrid and the professor. It doesn’t upset me that he is sitting with her as I talk to those closer in proximity around me. I find that I’m enjoying myself as the glow of what Harry said about me to all these people keeps bubbling through my mind.

After the meal is finished, the tables pull back to allow a dance floor. Harry and Ginny go off somewhere while Ron makes a bee-line to a corner with Luna in tow. Looking around the buzzing Hall I notice Neville standing on his own looking a bit forlorn. With a grin, I make my way over to where he was.

“Hey Neville,” I call out, getting his attention. He smiles at me and his whole face changes.

“Hello Hermione,” he greets, “you alright?”

“I am now I can relax a bit. I must admit, I wasn’t looking forward to tonight.”

“Neither was I,” he tells me, “you look fantastic, by the way.”

“Thanks. You don’t look too bad yourself.” He blushes a bit and then his eyes dart away to a spot behind me. I step casually to his side and look at what had grabbed his attention to see Harry and Ginny in deep conversation. Neville looks guiltily back to me and I realise something.

“Harry’s speech was pretty good,” Neville states nervously, “I feel pretty honoured he mentioned me.”

“You were a great help Neville,” I say as he looks once more at Harry and Ginny and I recognise the look on his face – I should do, I’ve seen it enough on mine, “she looks beautiful, doesn’t she?”

“Yeah,” he utters before he can think about it. Horrified, Neville looks at me blushing so hard I amazed he can still stand, what with the amount of blood staining his cheeks.

“How long have you liked Ginny?” I ask softly and he bows his head in defeat.

“A long time,” he whispers, “not that it matters. She’s with Harry and there is no way I could compete with him.”

I watch the couple on the other side of the Hall and smile sadly. Whatever they were talking about, it seems pretty intense, their heads bent together as they talk frantically. Neville was right, of course, he couldn’t compete against Harry just like I can’t compete against Ginny. The trouble is, I think I’ve finally realised I don’t really want to anymore.

“Do you want to dance?” I ask suddenly, making Neville look at me with surprise.

“You want to dance with me?”

“Neville, I’d be honoured.”

He smiles one of his lovely smiles, takes my hand and leads me onto the dance floor. There are already many dancers, but not so many that the floor is full. As Neville takes me in his arms, I remember that he is actually quite a good dancer (much better than his attempt at the Yule Ball anyway). We chat about his acceptance into Auror training that begins in September and what he was planning to do until then. I let him know of my lack of plans and he helpfully tries to come up with some suggestions.

I find myself enjoying his company and that more often than not I was laughing and smiling at something he said. I was having fun. When Harry tapped him on the shoulder and asked if he could cut in, I almost didn’t want Neville to say yes. Almost. Instead Harry took me in his arms and we swayed to the music.

“I thought you didn’t like to dance,” I said after a few moments.

“I don’t, not really, though this isn’t too bad,” he replies, then, “Hermione, we need to talk.”

My heart skips a beat.

“Talk?” I try and say casually, “what about?”

“What you said last Saturday.”

“Can we just forget what I said?” I ask, making sure I’m not looking into those wonderful eyes, “I mean, it doesn’t really matter, does it? You’re with Ginny so…”

“I’m not with Ginny.”

“What?” We stop swaying.

“I’m not with Ginny. I haven’t been with Ginny since Dumbledore’s funeral last year. Don’t you get it Hermione? I want to be with you.”

I’m sure everything stopped when he said those last words – the music, the chatter, the dancing, my heart. I look up at him and don’t see embarrassment or fear just good old Harry Potter determination.

“But I thought…you and her…she’s so pretty…me?” I stammer out ineloquently.

“Can we go somewhere more private and talk?” he asks me and I numbly nod. Taking my hand, he pulls me off the dance floor, past all the guests (who are looking at us strangely), past the grinning figures of our friends, out of the Great Hall, up the stairs and along the route we both knew of by heart. Neither of us spoke as we made our way to the seventh level and into the Room of Requirement.

It looked like the Gryffindor common room with subtle differences – there were no staircases to the dormitories and no studying tables, just the fireplace and lots of squishy chairs and sofas. We face each other and now he looks embarrassed.

“I thought you were with Ginny,” I state, if anything just to break the silence.

“She’s been trying to get back together with me for ages,” Harry tells me, “and she wouldn’t take no for an answer. I kept telling her that I really enjoyed my time with her but I realised she wasn’t the one for me, that there was someone else. Tonight I think she finally accepted it.”

“Your speech.”

“Yeah.”

“The someone else,” I breathe, my heart hammering, “do you mean…is that…are you talking about…do you mean, me?”

Harry shoved his hands in his pockets and looked at me shyly before mumbling “yeah.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Last year, at Christmas,” he explains and I remember when he’s talking about, “everything was such a mess. Voldemort was getting stronger and we had just got rid of the cup. And then you got hurt and I thought I’d lost you. Nothing else mattered to me but you living. It made me realise that you were more than a friend to me, that I couldn’t imagine my life without you in it. It changed everything.”

Last Christmas I nearly died. I don’t remember much of December and half of January but I do remember that he had pulled further away from me and it had all been rather upsetting. And now he’s telling me that was when he realised he had deeper feelings for me?

“You stopped talking to me,” I say a bit sharply, angry at the pain he had put me through, “you barely acknowledged my presence for ages after I got better!”

“I had a job to do,” he responds, looking at me as if he expected me to be pissed off, “and I knew I wouldn’t be able to do it if I actually admitted to you or even me, what I was feeling. Besides, I didn’t want him to know…”

“You were protecting me.”

“Yes.”

“Do you realise how much you hurt me?”

“Yes,” he admits and I glare at him, “but it wasn’t easy for me either. I told no one about what I was feeling, not Ron, not Remus – no one. I was trying to hide how much I cared deep, deep down inside of me so Voldemort wouldn’t find out but instead it just kept growing stronger and stronger. I wanted to tell you so many times, just reach out and hold you when I saw how upset you were, to kiss you, to…”

“What?”

“Nothing,” he mumbled and he went a brilliant shade of red and I had an idea of what he was going to say. All my anger ebbed as I went to him.

“Harry?” I pressed feeling both pleasure and guilt about how uncomfortable I was making him.

“Let’s just say I was having rather…unsettling dreams about you.”

“I’ve been having unsettling dreams about you for years,” I say and grin when he looks at me with horror.

“You have?”

“Oh Harry, haven’t you worked it out yet?” He says nothing so I take caution to the wind and continue, “I love you, I have for years and I’ve just recently resigned myself to the fact I would never have you…”

“…because you’re not good enough.” I nod, he continues. “How could you ever think that you’re not good enough for me?”

“You never, ever gave me any indication that you saw me as anything different than a friend Harry,” I state matter of factly, feeling tears beginning to form, “and the girls you were attracted to, well, I’m nothing like them and could never be anything close to them. But now I’ve started to realise that I really don’t want to be like them because I’m me, I’m unique and special in my own right and if you didn’t like it, then…”

“I do like it, like you…a lot,” he interrupts, taking my hands in his, “I’m just sorry it took nearly losing you for me to work that out. And I’m sorry that I hurt you because I never meant to. Hermione, you’re amazing, the most amazing girl I know. And for the last month I haven’t said anything to you because I was afraid that I wasn’t good enough for you.”

“What?” I cry, “why?”

“Well, your first boyfriend was Viktor Krum,” he grins sheepishly, “how could I compete with that?”

I stare at him dumbfounded, then dip my head in defeat. Somehow I always forget Viktor and the amazing fact that he chose me out of all the girls at Hogwarts to go to the Yule Ball with.

“I was going to ask you to come here with me tonight, but you wouldn’t answer my owls.” His voice is barely above a whisper, his head bent towards mine – I look up at him and he’s only inches away.

“Sorry,” I breathe.

“That’s okay,” he smiles his famous lopsided smile, “you had things you needed to do. Your hair looks fantastic, by the way.”

“Thanks,” I return his smile shyly, aware that he’s so close to me.

“Would…would you like to go out with me? On a date?”

He looks so sweet, so different from the leader I saw walk into the Great Hall but still like the Harry I love. And after all that I’ve told him, he still looks like he thinks I’ll say no. The burke.

“I’d love to go on a date with you Harry,” I finally say, ending his misery. He smiles at me brilliantly.

“Great! How ‘bout tomorrow? Is that too soon? I mean, we can wait until…”

“Tomorrow,” I interrupt his babbling, “we could go for a walk or catch a movie or something.”

“Brilliant,” he smiles, “great. Well, I guess we should be getting back.”

Back? Back to what, I wonder. Then I remember the Ball that is going on downstairs in our honour. Bugger, I quite like being up here alone with Harry.

“Right.”

Harry nods and steps away from me, the closeness disappearing. He lets go of one of my hands but continues to hold the other, intertwining our fingers snugly before we leave the room.

I’m sure I’m floating next to him as we make our way back to the Great Hall because I don’t remember my feet ever touching the ground. Tomorrow I’ll be going on a date with Harry, our first ever date.

Wow.

A passing thought entered my mind, the thought that this means I am good enough for Harry, he’s proved it by asking me out. But then I countered my own praise – what had just happened, Harry telling me I was amazing, saying that he had liked me for a while, was proof really that I’ve always been good enough.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Okay, so I’m sitting next to a very quiet, very…disappointed Ginny and facing a radiant, chatty Hermione with neither of them taking the slightest bit of interest in me. This thought, I realise, is terribly self-absorbed so I turn my attention to those around me (other than the sullen Miss Weasley), and joined in half-heartedly with the conversation.

My mind, however, kept returning to Hermione. Did she understand what I was trying to tell her in my speech? Judging from Ginny’s silence, she definitely understood.

It was when the meal was over that Ginny finally found her voice. In very clipped tones, she asked if she could have a word then dragged me over to a corner of the Hall.

“How could you do that to me?” was the first thing that came from her mouth, face flushed and eyes blazing.

“I didn’t do anything…” I began without much success as Ginny quickly cut in.

“No, you’re right, you didn’t! I was your girlfriend Harry – your girlfriend for goodness sake! Didn’t that mean anything to you?”

I sighed with resignation and braced myself for what I hoped was the final chapter in the romantic-relationship-with-Ginny-Weasley saga.

“Like I’ve told you Gin,” I start softly, “our time together was great, special. A bit of normality when everything else was anything but normal…”

“Then why can’t it continue?” she interrupts, no longer sharp but now closer to tears. I don’t know which is worse.

“Ginny,” I try to explain, leaning in close so only she could hear what I was saying, “so much happened to me last year, so much that you wouldn’t understand…”

“But Hermione can? Why her and not me? I’m stronger than you think, Harry.”

I pause as I get my thoughts together, wanting to make Ginny understand.

“Hermione has been with me from the start,” I tell her as the first tears fall, “she knows me so well and last year…last year, well, we got to know each other even better…”

“You slept with her?” Ginny cried, hurt and shock on her face and I immediately blushed.

“No!” I vehemently denied, “no, of course not!” Although the idea had crossed my mind on many occasions, Ginny didn’t need to know that. I carried on, “but we did get closer and I finally realised just how important Hermione is to me, how every other girl would always be compared to her and that she would always come first…”

“Even before me?”

“Even before you,” I say gently as she wipes the tears from her face, “you will always be special to me Ginny, but you’ve got to let me go. Even if things don’t work out with Hermione, I won’t be coming back to you.”

She looks up at me then, her tears already drying up and the fire returning.

“Hermione doesn’t know how you feel, does she?” she asks me with a frown and I shake my head ‘no’, “bloody hell Harry, why haven’t you told her how you feel?”

“There never seemed to be the right time…” was my mumbled reply, suddenly feeling foolish.

“What a load of rubbish,” she humphs as she turns from me and starts searching the Hall, “though that speech was a good start, you need to tell her. Merlin knows she’s fancied you for ages – it’s time you two sort yourselves out. Ah, there she is!”

I follow the line of Ginny’s pointed finger and see Hermione dancing and laughing with Neville. A huge gamut of emotions consumed at that point, ranging from anger to regret.

Maybe I’ve lost her. Maybe I’m already too late. Maybe I’ve…

“Now’s your chance Harry,” Ginny interrupts my internal self-doubt musings by shoving me slightly, “go and talk to her.”

I know she’s right and I had vowed to myself I would tell Hermione everything tonight, but now that my time has come, I’m suddenly very nervous.

“What about Neville?” I ask, trying to stall for time.

“I can distract Neville,” Ginny replies and her tone makes me look back at her. All sign of her previous tears had gone and she has a small smile on her face, “he’s quite cute when he laughs like that. Come on!”

She grabs my arm and starts to drag me towards the dance floor but my brain screams it needs more time.

“Ginny!” I cry as I dig my heels in and stop her taking me any further, “stop!”

“What?”

What indeed. She’s looking at me as if I’ve gone barmy and perhaps I have. I know what I should do but the doing it is quite a major problem.

“What…what about you?” is the next delaying tactic, “I mean, you’ve been trying to get back together with me for months! You were just crying about me just now! Won’t it be difficult to see me with Hermione so soon?”

“I’m tougher than you think, Harry,” she tells me somewhat sadly but with that same small smile, “besides I think part of me always knew it would end up like this, that’s why I was working so hard to get you back. You and Hermione have something special, something I could never compete with – although I really tried. I guess I finally see that now,” she pauses and gives me a small kiss on the cheek before saying, “go and talk to her.”

I stop and think, reconciling what I know I should do and the scared part of me that doesn’t want to do it because of the possibility she may say no. But then I remember I’m Harry-Bloody-Potter, I’ve saved the wizarding world – I can go and talk to a girl, even if that girl is Hermione.

Taking a deep breath, I smile a good-bye and thanks to Ginny, square my shoulders and focus. Walking over to where Hermione and Neville are, I tap him on the shoulder and ask if I can cut in. They both turn to me but Neville passes Hermione to me without a word. I feel strangely in control of myself even though I have her in my arms and she feels absolutely lovely.

“I thought you didn’t like to dance,” she says after a few moments and I smile.

“I don’t, not really, though this isn’t too bad,” I tell her, take another deep breath then plough on, “Hermione, we need to talk.”

Her body tenses in my arms, telling me that she’s nervous – her next comment confirming it.

“Talk? What about?”

“What you said last Saturday.”

There you go, I said it, it’s out in the open. Brilliant.

“Can we just forget what I said?” she asks, looking anywhere but at me, “I mean, it doesn’t really matter, does it? You’re with Ginny so…”

Ah, there we go.

“I’m not with Ginny,” I tell her and for some strange reason, my confidence soars. Maybe it’s because the ice is already broken and there is no turning back. Or maybe it’s because of what I see in Hermione’s eyes. Whatever it is, nothing can stop me now.

“What?” she gasps and our poor excuse for dancing ends.

“I’m not with Ginny,” I start softly, “I haven’t been with Ginny since Dumbledore’s funeral last year. Don’t you get it Hermione? I want to be with you.”

She looks up at me in confusion.

“But I thought…you and her…she’s so pretty…me?” she stammers and I remember where we are and all the eyes and ears trained on us.

“Can we go somewhere more private and talk?” I ask and when she nods, I take her hand and lead her out of the Great Hall and up to the Room of Requirement, ignoring all the stares that followed us.

The Room looked like the Gryffindor common room which was comforting because now my nerves return.

“I thought you were with Ginny,” Hermione whispers, breaking the slightly uncomfortable silence.

“She’s been trying to get back together with me for ages, and she wouldn’t take no for an answer,” I admit quietly, “I kept telling her that I really enjoyed my time with her but I realised she wasn’t the one for me, that there was someone else. Tonight I think she finally accepted it.”

“Your speech.”

“Yeah.”

“The someone else,” she continues nervously, her face blushing bright red, “do you mean…is that…are you talking about…do you mean, me?”

Here it is, the moment of truth. After what feels like a lifetime of edging around the subject we have now both finally laid it on the line. Well, Hermione has – I need to answer, which I do with a mumbled “yeah.”

“I don’t understand,” she frowns.

Right – here we go.

“Last year, at Christmas, everything was such a mess. Voldemort was getting stronger and we had just got rid of the cup,” I pause briefly as I remember what was one of the worse periods in my life. With a sigh, I continue, “and then you got hurt and I thought I’d lost you. Nothing else mattered to me but you living. It made me realise that you were more than a friend to me, that I couldn’t imagine my life without you in it. It changed everything.”

I see a cloud cross her face and I know exactly why. Hermione had nearly died. She didn’t, and when she was deemed back to normal, I had pulled away from her without telling her why. It was a terrible few months.

“You stopped talking to me,” she growls, “you barely acknowledged my presence for ages after I got better!”

“I had a job to do and I knew I wouldn’t be able to do it if I actually admitted to you or even me, what I was feeling,” I tried to explain, expecting her anger but wanting it to go away as quick as possible, “besides, I didn’t want him to know…”

“You were protecting me.”

“Yes.”

“Do you realise how much you hurt me?” she snaps, glaring at me with glistening eyes. She looked so beautiful, so…alive.

“Yes,” I admit, “but it wasn’t easy for me either. I told no one about what I was feeling, not Ron, not Remus – no one. I was trying to hide how much I cared deep, deep down inside of me so Voldemort wouldn’t find out but instead it just kept growing stronger and stronger. I wanted to tell you so many times, just reach out and hold you when I saw how upset you were, to kiss you, to…”

I stop abruptly as my mind delved into very, very dangerous territory.

“What?” she asks and all those naughty thoughts intensified.

“Nothing,” I manage to mutter as the heat from my face radiates the room.

“Harry?”

The way she said my name made things even worse.

“Let’s just say I was having rather…” how could I say this without being too disgusting, “unsettling dreams about you.”

“I’ve been having unsettling dreams about you for years.”

“You have?”

Bloody. Hell.

If Hermione has been having the same type of dreams about me as I’ve been having about her, then, well, she’s not as straight laced as she’s led us to believe.

“Oh Harry, haven’t you worked it out yet?” Worked out what? Brilliant, I’m still as dim as ever. As I still ponder over what I should have worked out, she continues with that lovely smile of hers, “I love you, I have for years and I’ve just recently resigned myself to the fact I would never have you…”

“…because you’re not good enough.” I finish, remembering last Saturday, “how could you ever think that you’re not good enough for me?”

“You never, ever gave me any indication that you saw me as anything different than a friend Harry,” she tells me and I know that’s the truth, “and the girls you were attracted to, well, I’m nothing like them and could never be anything close to them,” no, she isn’t – she’s a hundred times better, “but now I’ve started to realise that I really don’t want to be like them because I’m me, I’m unique and special in my own right and if you didn’t like it, then…”

“I do like it, like you…a lot,” I stop her and putting caution to the wind, I reach out for her hands, “I’m just sorry it took nearly losing you for me to work that out. And I’m sorry that I hurt you because I never meant to,” I search her face for the courage to go on, and I find it – comfort in those lovely eyes of hers, “Hermione, you’re amazing, the most amazing girl I know. And for the last month I haven’t said anything to you because I was afraid that I wasn’t good enough for you.”

“What? Why?”

I smile at her surprise.

“Well, your first boyfriend was Viktor Krum – how could I compete with that?”

Amazed at how well I’m doing, I lean towards her bent head and get even closer to her. Close enough to kiss.

“I was going to ask you to come here with me tonight, but you wouldn’t answer my owls,” I tell her quietly.

“Sorry,” she says, just as quietly.

“That’s okay, you had things you needed to do,” I joke, resisting the urge to copy what Ron did seemingly a lifetime ago and run my hand over her short locks, “your hair looks fantastic, by the way.”

“Thanks,” she replies with such shyness that my own awkwardness returns. We are standing so close to each other now and I still have the Big Question to ask.

“Would…would you like to go out with me?” I venture hesitantly, “on a date?”

Hermione looks at me as if I was an idiot and I wonder if I’ve made a huge mistake. Did I read all the signs so terribly wrong? I try and confirm within my memories that she definitely told me she loved me – right?

“I’d love to go on a date with you Harry,” she finally says and the relief that I feel is incredible.

“Great!” I grin, my mind whirling over the possibilities, “how ‘bout tomorrow? Is that too soon? I mean, we can wait until…”

“Tomorrow,” she cuts in before I can make a bigger fool of myself, “we could go for a walk or catch a movie or something.”

“Brilliant. Great,” I beam, feeling so chuffed with myself that I had actually asked Hermione out and she has said yes. Now we can return to real life and the stupid Ball happening downstairs, “well, I guess we should be getting back.”

“Right,” she says and I’m sure there is disappointment in her tone as if she would prefer to stay up here with me. Not that I don’t think that’s a fantastic idea, it’s just that this Ball is in our honour and we should really be there.

With a bit of reluctance, I step away from her and begin our journey back to the real world. But this time it is the real world with Hermione as my girlfriend. I intertwine my fingers with her as I mull over this delightful thought and marvel at how her hand fits so perfectly in mine.

This is happiness. I’ve finally found happiness. Harry Potter is happy.

Brilliant.

A/N – so there you go, no dramatic kiss just a gentle realisation of what they mean to each other – I hope you’re not too disappointed. I just kinda thought that they would get used to them being a couple before either of them are comfortable enough to kiss. And although Ginny seems to give in easily, if there was a sequel, there would be some residual hurt that she’d work through before she would totally accept she had lost Harry (and that special first kiss between our favourite couple). But there isn’t a sequel, sorry! You will just have to use your imagination….