The Edge of the Bed

A/N: Deep, slow, short beginning. If you like, please stick with it.

He took a deep breath. It wasn't the first time he'd done this but he wanted to make sure he could correctly convey what he wanted to say. “The thing is,” he started. “She's got this smile. And when she smiles, the whole world stops. Just for a second. And everything seems to go a little bit out of focus. Just for a second. And I wonder if I should be cleaning my glasses because I'm unable to see anyone but her. But it's just for a second. And then life goes back on, and it seems like everyone else hasn't noticed that the world just stopped spinning.”

He paused.

“The thing is; she's got these eyes. And they are the most beautiful eyes I've ever seen. They're the most incredible colour. Like melted milk chocolate. Have you ever seen that kind of colour? Only when you're cooking, I guess. Or you could just look into her eyes. Sometimes I'm looking at her and I wonder what her parents thought when they first saw her.”

He smiled, thinking of all the times he lost himself in those eyes.

“The thing is,” he continued with a smile, “She's got this laugh. And it's an incredible laugh. It sounds like giggling, but it's not. It sounds like squeaking but it's not. It's just incredible. And it's a laugh that makes me want to record and play over and over again. It's a laugh that makes me want to make her laugh all day long. It's a laugh that makes me want to do anything to make her laugh.”

He was caught up now. She did that do him.

“The thing is; she's got these facial expressions. It seems like she has a different one for every situation possible. She can raise her eyebrows or lower them. She can lift one side of her mouth or develop a twitch near her eye. And every single one of these expressions seems to be so original and so…her. And every time I see them, I just get caught up in them.”

He smile faded. He started to fiddle with his fingers. A tear slid down his cheek. “The thing is,” he choked out, “I kind of love her.” He pushed his head into his hands, barely feeling the comforting hand on his back. “And every time I even think of her, I hate the fact that I've taken this long to notice her.”

“It's alright, Harry,” Dr. Knight soothed. “It's alright to feel this way.” He helped Harry back onto the chair.

“I'm sorry,” Harry apologized.

“It's alright, Harry,” Dr. Knight responded. “It's an emotional time right now. Talking about it is going to help, irregardless of what you think.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Harry muttered, collapsing into a chair with a sigh. They were silent for a while, listening to the soft ticking of the doctor's watch. Harry clucked his tongue. “Do you think,” he wondered out loud, “I'm not meant to have anyone? Do you think I'm meant to be alone?”

“Everyone has a right to be happy, Harry.”

Harry was silent, looking away.

Dr. Knight sighed. “Why don't we talk about your childhood, Harry?”

Harry nodded, swallowing hard. “The magazines are wrong. I mean, I did have a horrible childhood, and my years at Hogwarts were dangerous. When we were battling the horcruxes, we faced danger everyday.” He smiled again. “But she was always there for me. She made me feel safe. My childhood was…normal. And loving. Because of her.”

“Harry,” Dr. Knight interrupted softly. “Let's talk about your childhood before Hermione.”

Harry didn't respond.

“Harry?”

“The thing is,” Harry gulped, “I can't think of a time before I knew her.”

Dr. Knight scribbled something quickly on his notepad. “Harry, have you ever considered yourself an obsessive person?”

It was fast and subtle. Harry raised an eyebrow and glanced over his shoulder. “What?”

Dr. Knight took off his glasses.

“No,” Harry stated. “No.” He spun back around and folded his arms.

Dr. Knight licked his lips, putting down his notepad. “Tell me about your fiancé, Harry.”

Harry was silent, watching his stomach go up and down. He closed his eyes. “I don't want to talk about Nicole.”

Dr. Knight nodded slowly. “You want to talk about Hermione.”

“I want to talk about Hermione.”

Dr. Knight leaned forward in his seat, causing a soft squeaking sound to erupt from the leather. “Why?”

“You know why,” was the soft reply.

“Harry.”

Harry remained silent.

“What are you scared of, Harry?”

“I don't want to lose Nicole.”

“They way you lost Hermione?”

His eyes snapped open and he jumped out of his chair. “I don't want to lose her!” he stated loudly, “In any way! I love Nicole! I don't care what you say, I love her.”

“But not the way you loved Hermione.”

Harry closed his mouth.

“Harry.”

He swallowed.

“Tell me about her.”

Harry tried to stare him down in vain.

“I have all the time in the world.”

“I bet you do,” Harry gritted.

“Tell me about her, Harry. Tell me about Hermione. Tell me about Nicole. Tell me everything, Harry. You want to talk. You need to talk. I want to listen.”

Seconds ticked by and Harry slowly got back into his chair, slouching forward, resting his chin in his hands.

More seconds. More minutes. They sat there in silence. “Fine.” The doctor clicked his tongue. He put down his notepad and started to get up. “If th-”

“It started about a year ago.”

Dedication: This chapter is dedicated to *someone special* out there. The thing is, you're kind of exceptional.

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~About a year ago~

Grimmwauld's Place had never looked better. Streamers hung from the ceiling, music was blasting and floating champagne was being circulated throughout the room. All in all, Harry was satisfied. He had meant to throw a clean, fun party before the holidays. Every now and then, he got up on the new stage and toasted to certain guests that had just entered. The night was incredible. The volunteer musicians were doing an excellent job of keeping the crowd entertained.

Harry hoped it would please her.

He never really thought of her when he planned the night. He didn't think of her when he was getting dressed. But when he wrote his speech, he thought of her. He cared about what she thought of him. Everyone else? He couldn't care less about what they thought.

She was late. It wasn't really like her to be late. She was usually one of the firsts. But she had already explained to him she'd be late. Ginny was just arriving from Ireland and they would come together. Ginny and Hermione had grown closer over the years, surprisingly. They spent a lot of time together and Harry found himself a bit jealous of how close they were. He thought it was great, though. Ginny and Hermione had a strong friendship that seemed impenetrable.

He felt a tap on his shoulder. After turning around, a smile grew. “Ron, how have you been?” They hugged.

“Not so horrible. Did you see the last game?” Ron sipped from his champagne glass.

“I did. You were quite rough near the end, weren't you?” Harry referred to Ron's violent play and smacking of a bludger towards a Quidditch player of the other team.

“Oh, Ginny's a big girl, she could handle it.” Ron smiled.

“She fell off her broom and suffered from a broken rib, Ron.”

“Automatic spice-up of family reunions, right?” Ron joked.

Harry couldn't help but laugh. Even after being a worldwide-known Quidditch player and best mates with Viktor Krum and Harry Potter, Ron was still the same old Ron.

“You nervous about your big speech?” Ron asked, nudging Harry in the side.

“A bit,” Harry admitted. He would feel better if Hermione was cheering him on. That damn Ginny and her slow legs.

“Yeah, you weren't always the best at big speeches, were you?” Ron laughed, taking another sip, “The famous boy-who-lived. Picture it.” He turned to Harry's side and put his hands in the air, forming a picture frame. “He survived an unforgivable curse, he battled a basilisk, a dragon. He battled the fiercest, most dangerous, most powerful wizards and witches of the world.” Ron turned back around. “And he gets nervous when he has to make a speech in front of his friends.”

Harry rolled his eyes and continued to recite his speech under his breath. Ron drank the last sip of his champagne. “Oy, champy!” he called across the room. A floating champagne glass stilled in mid-air and began to float towards Ron. It arrived after ducking and flying over dancing couples. Ron took it in his hand and let go of his other, which then started to float away. “Anyway,” he took a sip, “you shouldn't be nervous.”

“Oh yeah, says who?” Harry said distractedly, Hermione and Ginny had just entered the home. He waved them over.

“You know the new Auror, Nicole James?”

Harry turned back to Ron. “How do you kn-”

“Quidditch fan. Anyway, concentrate mate, she's worked with you in a couple of missions, right?”

“Yeah, just one, she was training.” Harry responded, smiling as Hermione waved back to him. He then tried to remember Nicole James. “Blonde. Bold. Giggly.”

“That's the one,” Ron said, “Well, we were just talking about the Rangers and somehow we started talking about you. You know what she said? She said you were one of the bravest most headstrong people she's ever met.”

“That's nice,” Harry said absent-mindedly. Hermione and Ginny had arrived. He hugged Ginny and kissed her on the forehead. “Welcome back, how's the rib?”

Ginny hugged Ron, almost spilling his champagne. “Oh, it was just swell. Once my teammates got over the 220-40 loss, they started visiting.”

Harry and Hermione smiled at one another and hugged.

“Worried about your speech?” Hermione asked.

“Very,” Harry groaned.

“Don't worry,” she reassured him. “You're going to do great.”

In fact, he did do great. Harry's welcome speech turned out to be funny and effective. The night went by slowly. Harry was introduced to many of Hermione's guests and caught up with Viktor Krum. With time, everyone left and Hermione and the Weasleys had agreed to stay the night. The four of them were sitting in the living room, catching up.

“Favorite colour?” Ron asked.

“Mauve.”

“Red.”

“Orange, Indigo or turquoise.” Hermione said after a moment of thought.

They stared at her before breaking into laughter.

“Alright, I suppose I win that one?” Hermione asked, blushing.

They nodded. Harry smiled at her pink face.

“Favorite animal?” She asked.

“Wolf.”

“Fox.”

“Hippogriff.” Harry winked at her.

She smiled. “You win.”

Harry sighed, thinking for a while. “Favorite sport?”

“Quidditch.”

“Quidditch.”

“Basketball.”

Ginny groaned. “Please don't tell me Basketball is a muggle sport.”

Harry and Hermione laughed.

“This isn't going to work very well if the winners keep going between you two,” Ron said, uncaring of who was winning the rounds, really. “Alright, alright. Best date since last Christmas?” Ron asked.

Hermione thought for a while. “Steve.”

“Who was Steve?” Ron asked.

Hermione thought back to the date. “Steve was a very quiet man who-”

“Treated her like a princess. The kiss at the end of the date was perfect. Unfortunately, Stevie wasn't her type.” Harry interrupted, unwilling to hear her praise Steve.

“Thank you, Harry,” Hermione said, annoyance in her voice. “What was your best date?”

“I didn't have any good ones.” Harry stated.

The other three snorted.

“There must have been someone special who caught your attention, Harry.” Ginny said.

“If anything, you and Nicole must have had a moment,” Ron said.

Hermione's eyes opened slightly. “Who's Nicole?”

“No one,” Harry said quickly, “Just a girl who works at the Ministry.”

“She's got her eyes set on Harry,” Ron said, wagging his eyebrows. Ginny laughed and Harry rolled his eyes.

“Oh,” Hermione said simply, finding a dirty spot on the floor.

Harry saw the sadness in her face. He took a deep breath. “I've got my eyes set on someone else.”

The after-party suddenly livened up. Ron sat up straight, Ginny readjusted her sitting position and Hermione's head snapped up.

“Who is this girl?” Ginny asked, suddenly ten-years-old.

“This woman,” Harry corrected with a stern look, “is the most incredible person I've ever met.”

“Blimey, Harry, she only joined a couple of months ago.” Ron said, scratching his head.

“It's not Nicole,” Harry said, glaring at him.

“Who is it?” Hermione asked softly.

Harry looked up into her eyes. Her beautiful eyes. They had the most beautiful colour. “Chocolate,” he said absent-mindedly.

The other three stared at him. “What?”

“Chocolate,” Harry repeated, still staring at Hermione. “Her eyes are some sort of chocolate colour.”

Ron and Ginny exchanged looks. They turned to see Hermione's reaction. And in that instant, they knew.

“She's got these eyes that can express any sort of emotion. She looks at me and it seems as though she understands everything I'm going through. And sometimes she does. And when she doesn't, her eyes tell me she's trying to.”

Hermione's mouth had opened slightly. She couldn't tear away from his. “I'm sure she cares about you.”

“Oh, I know she does,” Harry reassured her. Ron and Ginny had sunk back into their seats, suppressing giggles as they watched the two. “I don't think I've ever felt anything for anyone what I feel for her.”

Hermione's breath had shortened and grown louder. “You're so young, Harry.”

“She's the one.” Harry stated. Ginny gasped and swooned slightly. Ron would have rolled his eyes but he couldn't.

“I'm sure she feels the same way,” Hermione breathed.

“Does she?” Harry asked. “I don't know. We've never spoken about it.”

“Maybe she thought it didn't need to be said.” Hermione said. “I'm sure she feels the same way. I bet she thinks about you.”

“I think about her.”

She bit her lower lip. “Maybe you two should talk about this.”

“We're good friends.”

“I bet you are.”

“It's getting late,” Ron said louder than needed.

Ginny nodded her head violently. “I'm going to go to bed.” She sprung up from her couch and nearly ran up the stairs.

“D-don't use my toothpaste!” Ron managed to sputter out before running after her.

Harry and Hermione stared at one another from across the coffee table where four empty glasses still stood. He jumped for her lips so quickly; she only had enough time to close her eyes.

~About a year later~

Dr. Knight nodded. “Did you two get together that night?”

Harry waited for a second, still reliving their first kiss. “Yes,” he finally said, after snapping back to reality. “The whole relationship started that night.”

“It's a good story.”

“Thanks,” Harry said sarcastically, raising his eyebrow.

“What happened after that?”

Harry rubbed his eyes. “It started to fall apart.”

Dr. Knight put down his pad. “When?”

Harry sighed, letting his voice drop. “A couple of weeks after it started.”

Dedication: This chapter is dedicated to *someone special* out there. Before I met you I never knew what it was like to look as someone and smile for no reason.

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~A couple of weeks after about a year ago~

“Harry,” Hermione whispered desperately. “I have to go.”

His grip tightened around her hips. He kissed her neck. “No you don't. You have to stay here with me.” She giggled slightly and he took advantage of her temporary loss of concentration. Making an unnecessary grunt, he picked her up and pushed her onto the bed.

“Harry!” She squealed.

“Now listen,” he said sternly, kissing the base of her throat, “You're going to stay here with me.”

“Um-hmm,” she murmured, closing her eyes.

“Because I am not going to have anything else to do,” He kissed her again, “If you leave.”

She lifted her head and took his cheeks in her hands, bringing him into a soft kiss. “Harry,” she whispered, “It's not like I want to go.”

“Codswallop,” Harry grumbled against her lips before kissing her again. He brought his hands to her legs and ran them up and down. “You can't wait to go.”

“I'm excited for it,” she admitted breathlessly, running her hands across his back. She would miss him. “But I'm going to miss you.”

“Don't go then,” he whispered again, kissing her cheek.

“As important as you are,” she whispered, struggling to push him off her, “that doesn't matter.”

He groaned, turning over and lying on the bed, draping his arm over his eyes. “It's just a convention, it doesn't matter.”

She picked up a pillow and threw it at him. They laughed. He would miss her laugh. “It's not just a convention,” she packed socks, “it's another chance to get more funding for Healers.” She paused, scanning the suitcase for anything she forgot. She turned to him, closing the suitcase. “It's important to me, Harry.”

He sighed. There was nothing to say when she said that. “I'm going to miss you, Hermione,” he whispered.

She sighed, pausing as she was putting on her coat. She turned and sat down next to him on the bed. “It's just for a week,” she said softly, cupping his cheek in her hand and kissing him again. She leaned out and pressed her forehead to his. He closed his eyes. “Now listen,” she said, “you're going to go downstairs, call up Ron and Ginny, and throw a party. You're going to invite everyone you can think of and you're going to have a blast. Then tonight, you'll be so tired, you won't be able to think of me.”

He pecked her lips, making the motion of a woodpecker. She laughed and kissed him back. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close, inhaling her scent. He would miss her scent.

“Haf to go,” she mumbled against his lips. He was about to say something when she pulled away from him, jumped to her suitcase and ran out the door.

He followed her out of his bedroom and tried to catch her but gave up when he reached the top of the stairs. She was already at the front door. “Why run?” he asked with a smile.

She turned around, her hand on the knob. “Would you have let me go if I hadn't?” she asked.

He blushed. She grinned. She blew him a kiss and left with a soft, “I love you.”

~A couple of hours later~

“Harry! Harry!”

Harry turned around and smiled when Ron greeted him with a bear hug.

“Glad you could make it.”

The red-haired man leaned away and smirked. “No chance I'd miss a first row seat to see Harry Potter spend his first week away from Hermione.”

Harry playfully hit his arm, then eyed his empty champagne glass. “Fill it up for you?” He asked, taking it from his friend's hand.

“Yeah, thanks every much,” Ron nodded, letting go of his glass and waving to Luna, who had just entered the room. He looked back at Harry. “I'll see you later?”

Harry nodded and made his way to the bar. He set the glass down on the table and muttered Champagne under his breath. The glass slowly began to fill with the clear liquid. It was then that Harry noticed the blonde sitting at the bar. He smiled at her but she didn't seem to notice him. She stared at her empty champagne glass and twirled the top of the rim with her finger. A soft ping sound reminded Harry his drink was done. He took the glass and put it out in the air. He muttered Ronald Weasley under his breath and let go. The glass began to float away. Harry turned his attention back to the blonde and almost frowned when a poor Ravenclaw graduate came by, obviously smashed.

“Ello,” he slurred, his eyes threatening to close.

The blonde turned to him, sighing, as if she was expecting him.

“What's your name?” the man said, sitting himself down on the seat next to hers.

“I doubt you'd remember it,” she said.

Harry smiled.

“Come on, luv,” the man, who Harry had suddenly identified as Harrison Davison, said, poking her shoulder, “I'm just trying to make casual conversation.”

“I don't think that's the only thing that came across your mind when you sat down,” she said.

Harrison laughed a loud laugh that nearly made him fall off his chair. Suddenly, he tilted his head back too far and fell off the chair. He hit the ground head-first and fell silent. The blonde ran to his side and Harry did the same.

“Is he breathing?” Harry asked, whipping out his wand.

“I don't know,” she whispered hastily, ripping open his shirt. She then proceeded to give the man mouth-to-mouth.

Harry looked with wide eyes. “Are you-” he whispered, “Are you sure you should be doing that?”

“Why the hell not?” She asked distractedly, not taking her eyes off Harrison. She pushed her blonde hair behind her ears and continued.

Harry wanted to respond, “Because he's unconscious, not dead.” But he said nothing and simply watched in silence, wondering why no one else at the party was helping. Slowly, he put his wand away.

“Come on,” she kept whispering under her breath. Harry looked at her, wanting to laugh.

“Ready to try it the magical way?” he asked, coming off more cocky than he meant to.

She sighed and took her hands off his chest. “Fine,” she said, wiping her hands and lips. She got up, smoothed her red dress over and got back into her seat.

Harry laughed as he took out his wand and performed a simple spell on Harrison's chest. Harrison gasped loudly and shot up. He looked at Harry, then the blonde, then at the floor. Slowly his eyes closed. “I should go,” he said quietly.

“Order a taxi,” the blonde said as she continued to circle the rim of her glass.

Harrison got up and buttoned his shirt. He mumbled a quick thank you and goodbye. Harry got up slowly, eyeing the blonde. She looked sad. She looked like she was a million miles away. He sat down next to her, at his previous seat. He wasn't sure what to say. He glanced at her empty glass. He leaned forward slightly and pointed at it, making sure his finger was within her view.

“Can I fill it up for you?” he asked.

She turned her head, as if suddenly noticing him there. She looked at him with her bright blue eyes, her mouth half open. For a second, he thought she was going to slap him.

“Hmm,” she said, smiling for the first time that night, “You have no idea who I am, do you?”

He looked at her, almost staring. He never recognized people who knew him and always felt horrible for it. He searched his mind for her face in Hermione's healing ward. She didn't ring a bell. He searched for her face in the Department's healing ward. Nothing.

She laughed, flashing her white teeth. “It's okay if you don't.” She tucked her hair behind her ear shyly and turned to him. She shoved out her hand to him. “Nicole.”

He took her hand and shook it slowly. Nicole...

She looked at him with question in her eyes. “Nicole James?” She tried.

He nodded slowly. Almost as slowly as he was shaking her hand.

She laughed again. Less, this time, as the humor was dissipating. “I was training to be an Auror. I worked with you on the Highlander case?”

Harry felt so stupid. “I'm so sorry,” he said, shaking her hand firmly. “Nicole James, of course. You were kicked out because you used a level four spell.”

She laughed. She took her hand out of his grip and readjusted herself on her seat. “I break the rules when I'm pushed.” Her eyes danced around nervously. “I'm sort of a loose cannon.”

“That's alright,” Harry said, happy to meet someone so honest, “I thought you were a healer what with the…” He motioned to the spot on the floor where Harrison laid unconscious just moments ago.

“Oh,” she said, seeing the floor. She laughed again and covered her mouth, embarrassed. “I sort of freaked out there, sorry.”

“It's alright,” Harry said again, loosening up. He suddenly got quiet when he saw the sad look in her eyes. “Are you alright?” He asked.

She turned to him and forced a smile. “Bad day,” she said simply.

“Yeah,” Harry replied, sighing. He knew that feeling all too well. Suddenly feeling homesick for Hermione, sadness crept over him. He got up from his seat and shook Nicole's hand again. “Enjoy the party, Nicole.” He turned to leave before waiting for her reaction.

“Thank you, Mr. Potter,” he heard her say.

He stopped in his steps and turned around, smiling. She turned to face him, still playing with the rim of the glass. “You don't have to call me Mr. Potter,” he said.

“Why not?” she asked, setting her glass down and walking towards him.

“We're not on a battlefield anymore. If you don't listen to what I say, you won't die.” He was well aware of the sadness in his voice. He would rather be on a battlefield. At least then he wouldn't have time to think about Hermione.

Nicole got closer to him and he realized how tall she was. She leaned forward and fixed his tie. The feel of another woman so close to him felt strange. Strange yet comforting. He missed Hermione and Nicole was reminding him of her. “Oh, I don't see the difference between a battlefield and a dance floor, Mr. Potter.” She eyed the dance floor.

He turned to see it. Couples were dancing crazily and men's ties and women's broken heels were scattered across the floor. The floor was filled with laughing and uplifting music. He smiled, happy to see everyone enjoying themselves. He turned to Nicole. “Dance with me?” he asked.

“I thought you'd never ask,” she smiled.

Like a little boy, he took her hand and pulled her onto the floor where they began to dance themselves silly.

“Who invited you?” Harry shouted over the blaring music.

“More like who didn't invite me!” she shouted back. “Everyone knows about Harry Potter's famous parties!”

“I hope people don't remember me for them,” he smiled, twirling her around him.

“I think they'll remember you for your other accomplishments, Mr. Potter,” she laughed.

A trumpet trumpeted loudly and he pulled her close to him. “Like what?” he said, relieved to continue the conversation without shouting.

Her eyes went wide. “Mr. Potter, don't tell me you've forgotten where you got that scar from.” Her fingers pushed his bangs away.

He reacted quickly. His arm fell from her waist and he shook his head away from her grasp. “Don't.”

The sadness returned in her eyes. “I'm sorry,” she said genuinely. Her gaze turned to the floor. They were now moving slower, not keeping up with the music. “The War was hard on all of us,” she whispered.

Harry couldn't stop looking at her sad, sad eyes. “Did you lose…”

She nodded and bit her lower lip. “My father and brother.”

Harry sighed. “I'm sorry.”

“Why, is it your fault?” Nicole asked quickly.

It caught him by surprise. “No, it's not,” he stammered, hoping it actually wasn't. Too many civilians were lost in the War.

“Then don't apologize for it,” she said. Her sad eyes returned.

Harry took advantage of the chance to change the subject. “You're sad,” he said, “why?”

She turned away and looked at the other dancers on the floor. “I broke up with my boyfriend today.”

Harry tried to understand. “Did you love him?” he asked, unaware of the personal question.

“No,” she giggled, and turned to face him. “He was fun.”

Harry raised an eyebrow, immediately thinking of Hermione. “Just fun? Why did you stay with him?”

Nicole smiled again. “Because he was fun.”

Harry thought for a while, trying to drone out the loud music. “Why did you break up with him, then?”

Nicole seemed to think for a minute as well. “Remember when I said I'm loose cannon?”

Harry nodded.

“He made me that way.”

Harry sighed, understanding. He opened his mouth to say something else when Ron interrupted the dance. “Evening, Nicole!”

Nicole dropped her hands from Harry's shoulders and smiled. “Hello Ronald.”

It was then that Harry noticed Luna holding Ron's hand. He raised an eyebrow to his best friend. “Need a place to sleep tonight?”

Ron smiled, patting Harry's shoulder. “Knew you'd understand, mate. Come on, Luna.” With a nod to Nicole and Harry, Ron took Luna upstairs to his usual pre-maid room in Grimmwauld's Place.

Harry shook his head, smiling. He had been waiting for those two to hook up. He turned his attention back to Nicole, who was still smiling at him. “What?” He asked, grinning.

“You're a good friend,” she said simply, starting to dance again.

“I'm glad to see him happy,” Harry replied, dancing along.

“Are you happy with Hermione?” Nicole shouted once more.

“Yes! I am!” Harry cried happily.

“Good!” She said, brimming with happiness. “You deserve happiness, Harry!”

He was dancing but he still realized she called him by his name. They shared a smile and continued to dance.

~About a year later~

“You clicked, basically,” Dr. Knight said, scribbling on his notepad.

Harry turned around from his chair, facing the doctor. He sneered. “I just told you all of that and all you've retained is that we clicked?”

The doctor set down his pen and looked at Harry from below his glasses.

Harry sighed and turned back around. “Yes, we clicked, basically,” he said with spite.

“She knew about you and Hermione?”

Harry played with the chair's leather armrest. “Everyone knew about me and Hermione,” he whispered. He heard Hermione's voice in his head. Hermione and I.

“That was the first week she went away?”

Harry smiled, remembering. “Yeah, after we got together that night, we couldn't keep our hands off of each other. We spent every moment together, awake and sleeping.”

Dr. Knight wrote a couple of words. “It must have been hard for you when she left.”

Harry swallowed. “It was. I was lonely. I couldn't contact her, she worked in muggle places. When I suggested we keep in contact with phone calls, she said it'd be better if we spent some time apart.” He played with his fingers. “She said I was clingy and even though she loved it, she insisted absence makes the heart grow fonder.”

“Smart girl. And did it?”

Harry smiled. “Yes. It did.”

“Was it what tore you two apart as well?”

Harry thought for a second. “No.”

He sighed; this was going to take a while. “So what did?”

He turned around to face the doctor with a sad grin. “That's what you're here for, right?”

Dr. Knight almost grimaced. “I'm not a mind-reader. As much as I want to be, this session could go much faster.”

Harry's eyes turned desperate and narrow. “Help me.”

Dr. Knight remained emotionless. “Tell me more. Help me help you.”

Harry turned back around and pushed his back up against his seat. “I don't like this constant remembering.”

“Why?” He scratched at his eyebrows, suppressing a yawn. “Scared you'll actually remember why things ended so badly?”

Harry was quiet for a while, not thinking of anything, really. Finally he sighed. “Nicole and I got closer and closer. I hung out with her at the office and outside of work. Hermione knew but she never really did much about it. One day she got back from another trip and something was just…different.”

Dedication: This chapter is dedicated to my recently-passed grandmother and *someone special* out there. You're the one who makes me laugh when I don't even want to smile. Thank you for being there.

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~Three months after about a year ago~

“Alright, tell me about your father.” He was acting like a child, constantly asking questions, but he couldn't stop. She fascinated him and he wanted to know everything about her.

Nicole thought for a while. “My father was the bravest man I ever knew. He was hardworking and loving.” She looked off into nowhere and smiled. “He had an incredible sense of humor.”

Harry smiled. “He must have been a great man.”

“He was,” Nicole whispered, wiping at a dry eye, “We were the best of friends.”

Harry waited for a while, sipping at his tea. He readjusted his seat on the couch. He never did like the couch; Hermione picked it out because it matched the wallpaper in the room. “Tell me about your brother,” he said.

Nicole smiled immediately. “Jason was my older brother; he was always cracking jokes with my father. The two of them were huge Quidditch fans and tried so many times in vain to get me into it.”

Harry smiled again.

“I never got into it until he died,” she said suddenly. She put down her tea and scratched her neck, keeping her vision to the table.

Harry felt a lump fall into his stomach. He put down his tea. “I'm sorry; I keep doing this to you.”

Nicole looked up at him and smiled. “It's alright.” She rotated her finger on the rim of her glass. “Tell me about your family, Harry.”

Harry nearly laughed. “My family?”

“Not the Dursleys,” she said quickly, “Your parents. Do you remember them?”

Harry thought for a while. Not many people had ever asked him about his parents. “When I was in my first year at Hogwarts,” he said slowly, “I found a mirror in a room. It was called the Mirror of Erised. It showed us our deepest desire.” He heard Nicole intake a sharp breath. “I looked into it,” he said, his eyes narrowing, trying to remember what he did so many years ago, “and I saw my family.”

Nicole's eyes widened slightly. “Your family?”

He looked up at her. “My family,” he repeated, smiling, “Aunts, uncles, cousins.”

Nicole smiled sweetly.

“And my parents by my side,” he finished. “That was the first time I met them. The first time I laid eyes on them.”

“How did you know they were your parents?”

Harry smiled, happy the memory was returning to him. “I just did. I looked into their eyes and I just knew.” He closed his eyes and smiled. “I can still remember it. The feeling. Of being accepted and loved. Of being understood.”

“That was your deepest desire?” She asked.

He opened his eyes and turned to her. “Yes. To belong to a family.”

She smiled sadly. “I'm sorry you never got to meet them.”

“It's alright,” he said, picking up his cup and taking a sip.

She looked around the room. “It's strange how different this room looks like without party streamers or couples dancing on the floor.” She turned her head back to him. “You fascinate me, Harry,” she said.

He nearly choked on his tea again. “I do?”

She nodded with a smile. “You do.”

He smiled back. “You fascinate me, Nicole.”

The whole situation was bugging her and she didn't know why. She decided to change the subject. “This mirror you're talking about is fascinating me. I want to go see it. Where is it?”

Harry shook his head. “I don't know. It was moved after the Philosopher's Stone was taken out of it.”

She shook her head excitedly. “The Philosopher's Stone! That's why it rings a bell! I read the story about it on the journal the day after.”

Harry smiled and laughed. “You were brought up on the Quibbler?”

Nicole laughed as well. “Father would read most of it when I was young and couldn't read. When I grew up, I started reading a lot more.”

“Sounds like Hermione,” Harry said simply.

Nicole turned to him and smiled. “You and Hermione are great together.” There was a certain kind of sadness in her eyes that he tried to ignore but couldn't. It was something he was always noticing about her. Sadness. Sadness seemed to creep into their conversations and he always wondered why it seemed to follow her, especially.

He moved forward on the couch. “Nicole...”

She bowed her head immediately. “I miss him.” She was referring to her ex-boyfriend. For as long as Harry knew her, she had been missing Henry Case.

He leaned forward even more and placed a hand on hers. “You know,” he said slowly, “he didn't deserve you.”

Nicole smiled sadly.

It was at that exact time that Hermione chose to come home. It was at the exact time, when Harry returned Nicole's sweet smile, that Hermione decided to walk into the apartment.

Harry and Nicole sprung apart, as if their conjoined hands had suddenly caught fire. Nicole grabbed her tea cup and sunk into the couch. Harry sprang from his seat and ran his hand through his hair.

“Welcome home, Hermione,” Nicole said, never taking her eyes off the tea.

“Thank you,” Hermione replied softly.

“I should go,” Nicole said quickly. She got up, picked up her coat and left. Hermione barely had enough time to move out of the way before Nicole starting running down the stairs, out of the building.

There was a silence as Harry and Hermione stared at one another from across the room. “Welcome home, darling,” he said.

Hermione stared at him a little while longer. She shed her coat off and stood against the wall, keeping her distance. “Do you love me?” she asked, pain in her voice.

Harry scoffed and dug his hands into his pockets. “That's such a ridiculous question; I'm not even going to answer it.”

“Do you love me?”

Harry pulled at his hair. “Yes!” The room echoed the answer. “Yes, I love you!” He pointed to the door. “Nicole is just a friend!”

Hermione tried to smile. He walked towards her and pulled her into a kiss. Running hair hand through her hair, he smiled when he felt her smile. “I missed you,” she whispered tenderly.

“I missed you too.” And when he leaned out, he almost gasped. For a moment, and simply for a moment, Hermione had changed into Nicole. He didn't know how, but she did. And for that moment, that simple moment, he stared.

“Harry?”

The vision faded. Nicole's hair suddenly started curling and darkening. Her bright sky blue eyes grew somber. Hermione was now standing in front of Harry. Harry shook his head slightly. He had just imagined Hermione to be…

“Harry,” Hermione said, suddenly taking his face in her hands, a worried expression on her face, “What is it?”

He looked at her. He gazed into her deep chocolate eyes.

“What is it?” she asked again, softer. “Don't lie to me.”

She was being ridiculous that day. There was no way he would, could lie to her. She'd be able to tell in a second anyway.

“I just imagined you as Nicole,” he said bluntly. He felt his heart tha-thump violently as her caring expression ever so slowly turned to shock. Then hurt. Then silent acceptance.

“You think about her.” It was a sentence, not a question. A statement, not a suspicion. A fact. She was Hermione Granger, by the way. She wasn't stupid. And she knew. He knew. She knew he knew she knew. They knew he thought about her. So much more than he should.

“I swear I don't know why,” Harry whispered frenziedly. Her hand slipped from his cheeks and he grabbed them desperately. “Hermione, I don't-”

“-Think about her willingly, I know.” She pulled her hands away from his. She took her purse and hooked it onto her shoulder. “I know you don't want to, but you do.”

“Hermione.”

She left before he could say anything else.

~About nine months later ~

There was a silence in the room and the ticking clock sounded louder than usual. Harry jerked his head sideways. “What?” he asked with a hint of malice, “No witty comment?”

Dr. Knight lowered his glasses. “She broke your heart.” He then smiled almost evilly. “Tell me how.”

Harry sighed and turned his head back around. “You don't get it.”

Dr. Knight rubbed his eyes. “Then tell me what `it' is,” he said in a way that sounded like there was nothing more he didn't want to hear.

“I broke her heart.”

For the first time in all the sessions, Dr. Knight was interested. He sat up in his chair. “How so?”

Harry rolled his eyes. “You're a terrible person.”

“I'm a therapist.”

“You find my pain amusing.”

“I find it fascinating.”

“You're cynical.”

“Yes, I am.”

Harry rolled his eyes. He wanted to get up and leave but he didn't. “You're a terrible person.”

“You're still here.” Pause. “Aren't you?” Pause. “As cynical, negative and blunt as I am, you're still here.”

Harry closed his eyes. He wanted to cover his ears but he didn't.

“You want to be here. You like talking to me. You don't know why but you find my personality helpful through this process. You like the fact that I don't care about you.”

“You care,” Harry said, gritting his teeth.

“No, Harry,” Dr. Knight said, “I don't. You pay the bills. Now tell me what happened.”

~About 8 months ago~

The sky was gray. How suiting. He felt the water on the grass seep through his shoes and make contact with his socks. But he didn't stop. There was rumble and the clouds above moved slightly. The squeaking from the swings was getting annoying. But he didn't stop. He didn't stop walking until he was facing her. She stopped, digging her feet into the ground, making her swing stop abruptly. There was a silence, but it wasn't quiet. The wind was a bit strong and leaves were rustling about. He pushed his hands into his pocket.

“I miss you,” she said.

He sighed and got onto the swing next to her. They began swinging. “I don't deserve you,” he said.

“I know,” she said, almost smiling.

He stopped swinging, watching her swing back and forth. “I can't do this. I can't be with you, knowing I'm doing this to you.”

She was silent, her eyes fixated on the ground. She kept swinging.

“Don't you hate it?” he whispered just loud enough for her to hear. “Don't you hate being away and wondering what I'm doing with my female best friend? Why I spend so much time with her? Don't you hate wondering? Don't you hate knowing I have feelings for her?”

She closed her eyes and let tears fall from her closed eyes. She loved him. She loved him so much and they both knew he'd always love her more than Nicole. They both knew his feelings for Nicole weren't serious. But she'd love him even if they were. She loved him when he felt for Cho. She loved him when he felt for Ginny. And now, she loved him with he felt for Nicole. But yes. She hated it.

“You deserve more than me,” Harry said, getting up. He stood there for a second, waiting for a response. But she kept swinging, avoiding his eyes. “I packed your things.”

The swing stopped. She was level on the ground, sitting next to his towering figure. Her eyes still fixated on the ground. There was another loud silence. “I love you,” she finally said.

He blinked away tears. No matter what, he promised himself, he wouldn't cry in front of her. “You deserve better than hope. While you're away on conferences, you deserve more than just plain hope that your boyfriend isn't shagging some other woman. You deserve more than some pathetic boyfriend who can't last twenty-four hours without you before calling up his best friend to spend the night. You deserve more than me.” Without even waiting for a response, he turned his head away, blinking more tears away. “Pick up your things tonight between five and eight, I'll be out.” He Disapparated with a pop.

Ron would pick her things up. She would spend the rest of the night crying in Luna's arms.

~About 8 months later~

“And you call me heartless.”

“I said you were cynical.”

“You said I was a terrible person.”

“Not exactly heartless.”

“You broke her heart in a children's park on the swings,” Dr. Knight repeated, not even trying to hide his disappointment, “Then what?”

“Then…” Harry closed his eyes, “I went home.”

Dr. Knight rolled his eyes. “Naturally. It's what I do at the end of the day, as well.”

“To an empty house.”

He rolled his eyes again; feeling extremely frustrated, and checked the clock. It broke when his eyes made contact with it. Hoping Harry hadn't noticed that, he turned his vision back to Harry. “Naturally,” he said calmly, responding to Harry's last comment, “It's what I do at the end of the day, as well.”

It was Harry's turn to roll his eyes. He caught sight of a diploma on the wall.

Dalton Arthur Knight
PhD in Clinical, Social and Counseling Psychology
University of Bedfordshire

Harry raised an eyebrow. “You're a muggle?”

“Muggleborn,” Dr. Knight sighed, as if tired of that assumption, “Can we move on with your case, I have more important patients.”

Ignoring the callousness and almost embracing it, Harry continued. “I had trouble eating. Sleeping. Living, really, without Hermione. One day, Nicole came up to my room, trying to get me to eat.”

Dedication: This chapter is dedicated to *someone special* out there. You make me happy.

-->

~About seven months ago~

It was as though Harry Potter had broken his heart. It was as though Harry Potter had broken Ron Weasley's heart, the way he was acting.

“He has no right to act this way,” he growled, pacing around in a circle.

Ginny rolled her eyes. “He's allowed to hurt too, Ron. He loves her.”

“Well, he's got some way of showing it!” Ron yelled at his sister. He turned to the top of the stairs. Softening his voice only slightly, he yelled to Harry, locked in his room, “Come out and eat, we made your favorite!”

“Leave me alone!” they heard Harry yell back.

“Prick,” Ron grumbled.

She hit his arm. “Watch your language, Ron.” Nicole had just entered the apartment.

“Thank Merlin,” he replied instead, shoving the tray of food in her arms. “What took you so long? Doesn't matter; maybe you can get him to eat. He's in his room.” He turned around and shouted to the second floor, “Nicole's here!”

There was no response.

Ron just rolled his eyes and grumbled, “Just go up.”

She nodded her head and headed upstairs. By the time she opened his bedroom door, she was almost shaking with fear. The room was in complete ruins. Absolutely no object in it wasn't destroyed by some sort of spell. She wouldn't have been surprised if he told her he'd repaired his bedroom door multiple times.

“Harry,” she whispered, suddenly fearing not only for the pathetic man sitting at the base of his bed, but for her own good. “I've brought you some food.”

“I'm not hungry,” was the gruff reply she heard. In the dark, his hunched body and withering clothes, it didn't even seem like he had said it.

She swallowed. “Harry.”

“I can't,” he said helplessly.

“Harry, please,” she said, tearing up, “You have to eat.”

“Why?” he whispered.

She was quiet, unsure of what to say. She sat down next to him, placing the tray in front of him. She took his arms away from his face, almost gasping to see his red, wet face. His eyes were completely bloodshot. “Please, eat. Please, Harry.”

“I'm alone,” he said, ignoring her pleas. “I'm alone, Nicole.”

“You're not alone, we're here for you.”

He covered his face again with his hands. “What am I supposed to do? I don't know how to function without her. I don't know how to breathe without her. She's supposed to tell me how to avoid snoring before we go to sleep.” He started sobbing.

Nicole caressed his back. “Harry, please.”

“I'm empty,” he declared through his sobs, “I'm empty. There's nothing inside. I'm empty.”

Tears stated to fall from her eyes. It was killing her that he was like this. She took his chin and made him face her. “Don't say that, Harry.”

“I'm empty,” he said again, staring at her through his teary eyes, “I'm empty, Nicole James. I have nothing. I have nothing to give.” His upper body began to crumble.

She gripped his shirt over his chest and pushed forward. The force caused him to shift back up and look at her. “You're not empty,” she whispered slowly. “This,” she pushed against his chest again, “This isn't empty. You will always have something to give.”

“Why?” He whispered, tears still falling from his eyes.

“Because,” she said, sniffling, “You can't be empty if I love you.”

He was silent, his tears halting. He looked at her calmly. She was still crying. “You're not empty,” she repeated, “if you have my love in your heart.” She let go of his shirt and launched her arms around him, pulling him into a hug.

Harry's arms stayed at his side.

~About seven months later~

“You didn't even hug her back?”

“I was caught off-guard.”

“That a beautiful, funny, talented, spunky young woman loved you. Yes, I'm surprised as well.”

Harry frowned and turned back around, pushing his back into the chair. “I've been unhappy for a long time.”

“And why do you think that is?”

There was no response.

“Come on, Harry, it's not a hard question. Did Nicole send you?”

Harry fiddled with his fingers again. “No, I came on my own.”

“Why?”

He sighed. “I'm getting married in three months.”

“Congratulations. Any chance I'll get an invitation?”

“You don't want to come.”

“I thought that was the polite thing to say.”

“You being polite, how surprising.” He sighed and fiddled with his cuffs. “I've been thinking of Hermione more and more.”

“Why do you think that is?”

Harry got up from the chair and started walking around the room. “I don't know.” He picked up the candy tray and took one. “I don't know.”

Dr. Knight pulled off his glasses. “Do you love her?”

The candy tray flew at the wall, smashing loudly. “I don't know,” Harry said gruffly, running his hand through his hair, pulling at it. He sat back down in his chair. “I love Nicole.”

Dr. Knight took out a wand and fixed the candy tray with a simple flick. “You owe me more candy.” He said calmly.

“I loved Hermione.”

“And I loved my candy.”

“But I love Nicole.”

“And I love my candy tray. Do you love Hermione?”

“I love Nicole.”

“Harry.”

“Don't ask me again.” He pushed two fingers to his eyes. “Please, don't ask me again.”

“Harry.”

“Please don't.”

“Harry.”

Harry finally looked up. Almost gasping, he saw anger in Dr. Knight's eyes. The table next to him was broken.

“I don't think I can do this anymore.”

“What are you talking about?” Harry's eyes were preoccupied with the broken table.

“You're aggravating. You're stupid. You're spineless. I don't think I can do this anymore.”

Harry's eyebrows went up and down. He looked up and caught Dr. Knight's eyes. “You hate me,” he said. It was a statement. Both of them knew it.

Dr. Knight got up slowly, glaring.

There was something in his eyes Harry had never noticed before. There was a tense moment. Harry studied his eyes, unable to tear away from their stare. There was something in his eyes he recognized. Something…from the past. “You're an orphan.”

Another tense moment as Dr. Knight calmly looked down and fixed his shirt. “Do you know what destruction you've cause?” he suddenly asked coarsely.

Harry swallowed, suddenly feeling hot.

“Yes, I'm an orphan.”

“I'm sorry,” Harry said, almost automatically. He ignored the soft `ha!' than emerged from Dr. Knight. “I'm an orphan, too.” A bookshelf suddenly came tumbling down. Harry turned to see each and every book fly off the shelf and land on the floor. He turned his head back to Dr. Knight, almost in awe. The broken clock, the broken table, the tumbling bookshelf. “You know non-verbal magic.”

“Dark magic,” he almost growled, his eyes turning thinner, “When I'm angry.”

“You're angry.”

“I know you're an orphan,” he snarled, “Do you even have any idea what happened that night?”

And truthfully, he didn't. He had heard stories. He had pieced together the entire night based on what exactly fifteen people had told him.

“When Death Eaters got word that their master had been defeated by a mere baby,” he continued, “they went on a rampage.” Pause. “A killing spree. They came to my town and killed everyone they could find.” Pause. “They killed my parents.”

“I'm sorry,” Harry could think of nothing else to say.

“I was fourteen.” Pause. Pause. Pause. “Everyone and everything I knew was gone. They burned everything down after they were done.”

“I'm sorry,” Harry could think of nothing else to say. He was in shock. Total and complete shock. “It was a muggle town.” He meant it to be a question but it came out as a statement.

“I came home from school and saw nothing but fire.”

Harry almost closed his eyes, unwilling to relive such a terrible event.

“Everyone. Everything. The life I knew was gone.”

“I'm so sorry,” Harry weakly said again. There was another silence as they stared at one another. Feeble and rage. Apologetic and unstable. Consolation and fury. Suddenly Harry's eyes went wide and he understood. “You blame me.”

“You killed them,” Dr. Knight whispered darkly, his eyes shining with ferocity and pain. “They didn't die for Dumbledore. They didn't die for the wizarding world. They didn't die for you.” His head shook with rage for a second. “They died because of you.”

Harry. could think. of nothing. to say.

“Your parents die saving you. They die valiantly. They're recognized by the world as heroes. You survive. You even get an insufferable scar to prove you're exceptional. You live with an aunt and an uncle and a cousin. You go to school. You save the school. You save the world. You get the girl. It must fucking suck to be Harry James Potter.” Dr. Knight gritted his teeth. “After that attack, a fugitive Death Eater named Colt took me under his wing and I was lucky to get a decent place to sleep at night or even two meals a day. He robbed banks as a muggle, using magic under his cloak, to give me money to get to medical school. He wanted me to be different.”

Harry opened and closed his mouth.

“He died in the Second War. You killed him.”

Harry blinked. He recognized the name Colt.

“Avada Kedavra!” The Death Eater's wand spurted out the green light and Harry barely had time to flinch. However, he did register the man jumping in front of him, taking the hit, and falling to the ground before him. Harry killed the Death Eater and fell to the ground. A woman rushed to the scene, tears already forming.
“Colt,” she whispered, “Please, don't be dead. Colt, you have a family.” She started to cry.

Harry closed his eyes. Thank you, Colt.

“He told me you were a hero,” Dr. Knight whispered painfully, a look of hatred in his eyes, “He was willing to die for you.” Pause. “So he did.”

Harry suddenly looked to the ground, closing his eyes. What a mess. This wasn't supposed to happen.

“You have taken everything from me,” he heard Dr. Knight slowly whisper. He opened his eyes and looked up, suddenly aware of the black wand Dr. Knight had sticking out from his robes. He looked back at Dr. Knight, almost gasping for air when he saw the anger.

“You're going to kill me.” he said surprisingly calmly.

“No,” Dr. Knight responded, surprisingly quickly. Pause. He had thought of it countless times, each time deciding against it. “I'm not a monster. I'm a doctor.” Pause. Without taking his eyes off Harry, he took out his notebook. “I'm a doctor, first and foremost and you're a client.” He took out a pen. “Our history has nothing to do with the present.” He underlined the first thing written.

eyes. laugh. facial expressions. love.

“You love Hermione.” He couldn't have said it louder or clearer. “That was obvious when I first met you.” He underlined the second thing written.

obsession?

“You love her to the point of greed. The point of materialism, you can't even breathe when she's talking to someone else, right?”

Harry opened his mouth.

“RIGHT?!” he shouted in his face.

Harry stepped back. Dr. Knight grabbed him and pulled him close again, underlining the third thing written.

loneliness.

“Nicole was a prostitute,” he stated brashly.

Harry opened his mouth again.

“SHUT UP,” the older man yelled, “She was a prostitute, a distraction, a time-waster and killer, a fucking garden gnome, if you will.” He got closer to Harry's face. “She was a time-killer, she could have been anything. Hermione was gone. You were lonely. Nicole was there. That's it.” He wanted to spit in his face but he resisted. He flipped the page and underlined the next thing written.

marriage.

“You married Nicole because you're spineless. You agreed to marry her because you're spineless. You want to spend the rest of your life with her because you're spineless. I don't even want to keep talking about why you are.” He flipped the page and underlined the last thing written.

me.

He pushed Harry's body away from him and glared. “You didn't know about me. You didn't know I was an orphan or how and why I lost my parents. You didn't care. You came to me because a newspaper ad told you I was the best therapist ever. And it was right. I am good. I'm fucking incredible. But when you met me, you realized I didn't give a damn about you. And you're right. I don't. You never wanted to know why. Why you're the only patient I don't give a damn about. You came. You came to me even though you hate me. You came to me even though you can't stand talking to me. You stay in this room and tell me what you need to say because you know I don't give a damn about you. You like my cynical attitude because it's justified. It's right. It's honest, and you need honesty in your life or you'll suffocate.”

Harry swallowed.

“You came to me because you knew I'd tell you want you need to hear, not what you want to hear. You came to me because you knew I'd spit in your face and push you around, not offer you a shoulder. I'm cold and brash, and you have too many caring people in your life already.” He got right in Harry's face. “You knew I'd tell you want you needed to hear to get her back so here it is, Potter.” Pause. “Get the fuck out of my office and go find your true love, you gutless so-called-hero.”

Dedication: This chapter is dedicated to *someone special* out there. To love someone is to see something no one else sees. I see everything.

-->

There were no more flashbacks.
No more helpless sighs.
No more playful banter.
Just the sound of the ticking clock.
Harry let go a breath he didn't know he was holding.

“I'm sorry,” he said one last time.

”Just. Go.”

~~

With a deep sigh, he dropped his briefcase to the floor. “Honey,” Harry called, shrugging off his coat, “I'm home.” He sighed slightly, trying to think of what to say. But when he received no reply to his previous shout, he looked up, surprised to see Nicole at the top of the stairs, her coat already on. They observed one another for a moment, silently reading the other's mind.

“No, you're not,” she finally said. “And you haven't been home for a really long time.” She slowly walked down the stairs and Harry realized she was carrying a suitcase. “I knew you were never over her and I had accepted you might never be.” She smiled a cute smile. “I'm not really over Henry.”

“Nicole,” he tried to say.

She faced him at the bottom of the stairs. “Don't say anything, Harry.” She closed her eyes and sighed. Then she looked up at him, her blue eyes flashing. “I knew you'd never be fully mine and that was okay with me. I just wanted you. And I wanted you to be happy.” She paused. “It's okay,” she said seriously, “if you don't love me.”

He sighed, turning away.

“It's okay,” she continued, “if you don't want to be with me.”

“I do,” he said, trying to convince himself.

“No, Harry,” she said, smiling sadly, “you don't.” When he didn't respond, she took his chin in her hand, bringing him back to her gaze. They locked eyes and she kissed him on the cheek. “I know how it feels. I know how it feels love someone.”

He swallowed, suddenly feeling vulnerable. Chills ran through his body.

“I know how it feels to love someone,” she repeated.

“Don't do this to yourself.”

“Why?” She asked calmly. “You don't want me to stay.”

“That's a lie,” Harry said through gritted teeth.

She paused, observing his face, hoping it wouldn't be the last time she would. “No, it isn't.” She kissed his cheek again and laid her fingers on his shoulders. “I know how it feels,” she whispered into his ear, “to love someone so much you'd give up your sanity for them.”

He swallowed again, letting his eyes fill with tears. “You know,” he suddenly said, “I love her with all my heart.”

She nodded, trying to understand.

He turned to face her, letting tears fall. “It doesn't mean I love you any less.”

She searched his face, almost looking for something. “Yes, it does.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Ni-”

She silenced him with a kiss then bit her lip. “Because you love her so much,” She held him close. “So much,” she emphasized with a shake of his shoulders, “That there isn't room for anything else but a life with her.”

“There's room for you.”

“Why are you fighting this?” she asked, smiling. “You love her, and it's okay that this is killing me.” She stopped suddenly, letting the sadness and implication her previous sentence sink in. It wasn't okay. But she didn't care. “I don't care,” she whispered, “I just want you to be happy, Harry.”

“Nicole…”

She kissed him one last time on the lips. “It's okay, Harry.” And then she was gone.

He didn't know how, she just was. After closing his eyes and reopening them, she was gone. And he was alone in the house. Again.

~1 week later~

-Hello? Quiet down over there! Hello? Hello, can I help you?

-May I speak with Hermione Granger please?

-Oy, is Hermione in? I'm sorry, she's busy at the moment, may I take a message?

-This is Harry.

-Harry. Can I have your number?

-She has it.

-Alright, she'll call-Oh, she's just gotten out. One moment please. Hermione, pick up the phone.

-Oh, no, that's alright, she can-

-Hello?

-Oh god.

-Hello? Who is this?...Hello? Ben, who did you say it was again? Harry? Harry who?

-Hermione.

-…Oh god.

-Hermione, don't hang up.

-Ben, I said screen my phone calls!

-Hermione.

-I can't talk to you right now.

-Yes, you can.

-I'm a bit busy at the moment, can I call you back?

-Yes, you could have but you're not busy.

-I can't do this.

-No, you can't. I can. For once, I can actually step up to the plate and do something.

-…Continue.

-It was wrong of me. It was so wrong of me.

-To break us up or to marry her?

-You heard.

-You're Harry Potter, I found out the day you proposed.

-It's been called off.

-…Why?

-I'm in love with someone else.

-I have to go.

-No you don't.

-Yes, I do.

-No, you don't. Please, Hermione, just listen to me. I was wrong. I was wrong, I know I was wrong and I was stupid and I know I was stupid but this is now, Hermione. Life is happening right now and I don't want to waste another second of it. I know I've messed up and I'm asking you for another chance. Please, Hermione.

-Why in the world would I give you another chance?

-Because you're in love with me too.

-Rubbish.

-Let me make this right. I know you want to know what happened between us, too.

-I don't care.

-Yes, you do, goddamn it, Hermione! Stop being so fucking high and mighty! Now tell me where you are.

-Away from you.

-At work?

-Away from you.

-I'll see you soon.

-Harry, wait! Harry!....Harry? Ugh, bollocks. Ben, get over here right now. Do you have trouble listening? I told you to screen…

~~

Hermione had quit the Healer program at the Ministry of Magic three months after Harry and her broke up. She had decided it simply wasn't for her. Although she did want to help others, she felt it wore too much on her, emotionally, and she feared, after her break up, it might destroy all the happiness she had left in her world. She instead started to work for Browns and Finnegan's, and started a sort of book craze. It seemed Hermione's love of literature was contagious and soon, the bookstore had tripled its floor space, adding three floors, and multiplied its amount of customers. Hermione was assigned official director and rumors of the bookstore adding a Granger at its name began circulating. Flourish and Botts offered her official director multiple times and raised their salary each time. Hermione, however, stuck true to her beginnings and rejected the offers each and every time. Yes, life was good for Hermione Granger. Everyday, she almost forgot about that heartbreaking event that happened in her life.

A young man with raven black hair and distinct green eyes walked into Browns and Finnegan's that afternoon. He seemed quite upset, as though he had just gotten off the phone with someone very high and mighty. Ignoring that fact, Ben Brittle approached him. “Good afternoon, we're closing right now but you can be our last customer of the day. May I be of assistance?”

Harry almost laughed. Almost. Hermione's polite manners were quite catching. He smiled a friendly smile. “I'm not looking for a book today, I'm looking for someone. Perhaps you could help me, her name's Hermione Granger?”

Ben smiled in return. “Certainly, I'll go get her. Who shall I say is calling?”

“Harry.”

And just like that, Ben's smiled faded. “Oh,” he said simply. He lowered his voice and got closer to Harry, his eyes shifted nervously. “Listen, mate, it's of no disrespect to you but she's not in the best mood after that phone call.”

Harry whispered as well. “I'm not here to cause trouble; I just want to talk to her. Please, just tell her that.”

“Look, she doesn't want to talk to you at all! There's nothing I can do when she's like this.”

“I know Hermione better than everyone in the world; just tell her that, please.”

Ben inhaled and observed Harry from up to down. He finally sighed and shook her head. “Fine,” he rubbed the back of his neck and suddenly pointed at Harry, “I'm not taking the fall if she throws something at me.” He turned around and began walking upstairs. Halfway up, he turned around. “Her office is on the third floor and there aren't any escalators yet,” he smirked, “Hermione's way of getting us to exercise.” He pointed around. “Look around, it'll take a while.”

Harry nodded and began walking around and Ben continued walking up. He thumbed through some books and caressed the 15^th edition of Hogwarts: A History on display. He opened it up and flipped to a page.

Hogwart's history was drastically altered when the Chosen One, Harry James Potter, enrolled. An easy student to acquire, Potter would prove

He closed the book. He couldn't read it then, he couldn't read it now. Harry didn't know why he was like this, why he never really could read the book. He was willing to do anything for Hermione, anything. But never read it. He continued walking through the bookstore, scanning titles, discovering he was in the history section. Then the sports section. Then the science fiction section.

“Looking for something?”

Good god, she was perfect. Her teeth were straight and white, her hair was curlier than curly. Her eyes were big and soft brown, her stance was relaxed yet firm. She looked just as he remembered her.

“I was just looking for the romance section.”

She rolled her eyes and he fell in love all over again.

Dedication: This chapter is dedicated to *someone special* out there. For once, I can step up to the plate and actually do something; be myself. I hope you like it.

-->

`“You look good, Hermione.”

She started down the second flight of steps. “What are you doing here?” she asked in an aggravated tone.

“I want what you want,” he said simply.

“Then why aren't you leaving?” she asked under her breath.

He opened his mouth to say something but stilled for a moment. He squinted his eyes and asked, “Do you hate me?”

She was quiet as she descended the last flight of stairs.

“Do you hate me?”

“You know I don't,” was the quiet and fast reply.

He opened his mouth again, speaking faster. “I love Hermione. Hermione, I love you. I love you. I know I've messed up in the past and I'm sorry but I love you.”

She was quiet once more as she slowly walked towards him, arms folded.

He stammered, suddenly uneasy with the proximity. “I know it's not quite normal for me to-”

“Normal?” she interrupted angrily and forcefully. “What do you know about normal, Harry? We were in love; we were planning on getting married. Then you meet some girl at a party, how cliché, and after two months, we break up. After two months. After four years of being together, we break up after two months. You don't call, you don't write, you ask her to marry you and don't even invite me!”

“Would you have wanted to come, Hermione?” he asked just as angrily. “Would you have wanted to see me marry her?”

“What do you know about normal, Harry?” she asked again, ignoring his questions.

“You deserved more than me,” he responded truthfully. He took a deep breath and exhaled through his nose. “You deserved more than me. I wasn't stupid.” He made eye contact. “I wasn't stupid.” God, he wanted to kiss her. Wanted to ease that anger off her face with a loving kiss. “I was lessening the pain for you, Hermione.”

“You have no idea what you did.” She tightened her arms in their fold.

“I just wanted more for you.” He knew he was right. And in the long run, he was right. He formed his right hand in a karate chop outline and moved it up and down, trying to get his point across. “It would have been so much easier and so much less painful for you to hate me than to pine over me.” He raised his vision again, making contact with hers. “To hate me with everything you had. It would have been so much easier.”

There was a silence and he thought she understood. “I wanted you,” she said, the anger in her voice missing. “I wanted you.” She shook her head, closed her eyes and sighed. “I'm so sick of you saying you didn't deserve me. That you still don't.”

“I don't.”

“You do, but that's not the point,” she snapped. “Whether you did, do or not, I don't care. I want you. That's what love is, Harry! You love one another unconditionally. That's what love is, that's what normal is!”

He snapped completely. “Normal!? You think love is normal? You have no idea what love is then, Hermione. You think love follows some sort of path, some manual? Love has no guidelines, love has no instructions, love is just love. It drives you insane!” Love drove him insane and he wasn't going to stand there and let her tell him it doesn't and didn't. “Love doesn't have rising action and climax, love is all over the place!” He sputtered for a second and then screamed, “It's not like another one of your silly little books!”

She sneered, hurt. “Oh, aren't I lucky; the chosen one is here to make things all right once more!”

And she knew she overstepped it.

He took a deep breath, perhaps considering what he said. He licked his lips and looked to the floor. “Maybe this isn't a good time. I'll come back later.” He turned around and started walking. But he stopped dead in his tracks and turned around. He raised a finger and shook it at her. “No, you know what? No.” He couldn't say it any clearer. “I'm not coming back later because that's what went wrong the first time.” He paused. “I'm staying here, with you. I'm not going anywhere, Hermione.”

She took a breath and he held his. “Then get comfortable.” She Disapparated upstairs before he could say anything else.

~~

Why was he there? Why did he suddenly want to set things right? After everything they went through, it wasn't possible for them to be together. Not after all that heartbreak. Although she would have to admit she was always curious as to why he broke it up with her. Of course, there was his entire reason of protecting her from hurting, yes. But there was another reason. She sighed. Maybe that really was all he wanted to do. Find out what happened with them. Although after that, he would want more and-

“Hermione?”

She brought her head up. Everyone was looking at her.

“Are you alright?”

She held her head on her hand. Oh God. She was in the middle of a meeting. Five members of the bookstore on the right, five on the left. Percival Brown was even there. “Um, yes, I'm alright.” She was a terrible liar and they all knew it. The polite coughs said so much. She closed her eyes and groaned internally. “I'm so sorry, this isn't a good time for me, could we take a ten-minute break?”

“Certainly.”

She muttered a fast thank you and ran out the door, pacing along the corridor, listening to her heels echo in the bookstore. “Merlin, Harry,” she whispered, knowing she thought she'd never have to say his name in such a way. How dare he? Break her heart and suddenly come back, wanting to start over fresh. So he broke it off with Nicole, that didn't mean anything. Just because Nicole's heart was now suddenly fine didn't mean hers was. She stopped pacing and leaned against a rail, looking down at the three stories of the bookstore. Was what she was thinking even making any sense?

“Hermione. Hermione.”

She turned around slowly, letting his image fade into her view. She smiled tenderly when she saw his dark blue suit and soft yellow tie. “Charles.”

His eyebrows were squished in that way she knew all too well. “Hermione, are you alright?”

She nodded. “Yes, I'm quite alright.”

He wasn't convinced at all. After knowing Hermione Granger for more than five years and suddenly working with her closely for the past two, twenty-six year old Charles Davis knew when Hermione was not alright. “You don't seem alright at all,” he said caringly, taking out his handkerchief. “You're shaking and sweating. Here.” He motioned to caress her forehead when she abruptly turned away.

“Charles, no. I can't take this. From you, I know what it means.”

He physically bit his tongue. The thought of hurting Hermione in any way made him sick to his stomach. He inhaled sharply, keeping his anger inside. “Are you implicating that I'm-”

“No, I'm not,” she responded quickly and curtly. “It's just…” She tried to think of a way to say it. Unable to think of a nicer way, she sighed. “I'm sorry, Charles, you know my heart belongs to-”

“Him, yes, I know.” The happiness seemed to die down in his voice. He lowered it and took a step closer to her, pocketing the unwanted handkerchief. “Look, I'm not trying to replace Harry. I just want to be here for you. I just want you to know it's possible to love again. You don't have to pine over some prick who doesn't even want you.”

She swallowed, remembering Harry's words yesterday. “He does want me.”

“Well, he's got a hell of a way in showing it,” Charles blurted out. He stopped himself once more. It wasn't like him to swear. He sighed again. “Look, I'm not here to talk about him. I want to talk about us.”

“Charles, there is no us.”

“Please, just consider me, Hermione. Please.” He knew very well he was begging but he didn't mind. Not for Hermione. “I'm a good man, I'm smart, I'm healthy, I'm caring. Everything I'm not, I'll be it for you. Please, Hermione, give me one chance. I'm head over heels for you.”

She closed her eyes. She knew he was. How could she not know? The way he looked at her, the way he spoke to her, the way he was always offering to help. But it was hopeless. He wasn't Harry. And she didn't want anyone-anyone-but Harry. “Charles.”

“Look, I don't want to push you. You take as much time as you need. I just hate to see you unhappy and yearning for someone who's already broken your heart once.” He backed off, physically and verbally.

But she held him back with a broken question. “It is broken, isn't it?” She refused to let the tear fall from her eye.

“Oh Hermione…” Fortunately for the very same raven-haired wizard, Harry Potter decided to Apparate close to three meters away from the almost tender moment between Charles Davis and Hermione Granger.

Turning around and sighing on sight of him, Charles turned back around to Hermione, taking the look in her eye as a request to leave. He lifted his arm to pat her shoulder but decided against it. He bowed his head and sighed. “I just want to give you the pieces back,” he finished sweetly, before returning to the meeting room.

There was a pause between them as they stood there in front of one another. “I don't like him,” Harry said bluntly.

She folded her arms. “Fortunately, we're not 14 anymore; I don't care what you think.” She couldn't take this. He was suddenly Apparating into her bookstore now? Did he seriously think he was going to clean up this mess that quickly?

“He's not right for you.”

She rolled her eyes, turned on her heel and slowly started walking towards the meeting room. “No, you're absolutely right,” she called out; knowing and hearing him follow behind her. “Smart, witty, talkative, considerate, loving. What a terrible man.” She reached the door and reached for the knob.

His hand covered hers when she reached it. “I don't like him despite those things.”

She turned to face his, admiring her self-control; being so close to Harry James. “No, you don't like him because he's those things.” With a soft push, she flicked his hand off hers, went into the meeting room and closed the door. The other members in the room slowed down their conversation and began to sit quietly as she made her way to her seat at the front of the table. Putting a strand of hair behind her ear, she cleared her throat. “I'm sorry for that little interruption.” She paused her rifling of her files to give a friendly nod to Charles, who was still looking at her with a concerned look on his face. “Let's continue, shall we? Jasper?”

Jasper nodded and stood up, taking file with him. Before he could even exhale, however, the door of the room burst open.

A very angry and obviously out-of-control Harry burst in. “Are you trying to make me jealous?” he demanded loudly.

“Harry!” She was so embarrassed, she could melt.

“Answer the question!”

She was so sure she was red. “Have you gone completely mad?”

He was shaking. Not all over, but his shoulder were literally shaking up and down. “I don't know,” he said truthfully, in a rather Luna Lovegood tone. He looked around the table, acknowledging everyone there. “Evening,” he said politely.

“Get out,” she said sternly, “I'll deal with you later.”

He pointed a finger at her, a rather rude gesture, but he didn't care. “No,” he said just as sternly. “I'm sick and tired of being dealt with later. I'm sick and tired of waiting around for you. For us. I've messed up enough in the past; I just want things to go right now.”

She folded her arms, suddenly ignoring everyone in the room. “So that's what this is about, you wanting to finally be right?”

He shook his head, almost confused. “What? No!”

“This is about you and how you've waited enough for what you want, right?”

He analyzed her question in his head, something he often did with Hermione. Realizing what she meant, he closed his eyes and sighed. “Hermione, that's not what I meant.”

“So what you're trying to say,” she continued, ignoring his previous statement, “Is that you've waited, what, a couple of weeks between breaking up with your fiancée and that's enough for you to be this incredible victim that it's about time you got what you deserved, is that it?” Her voice was loud and full of hurt.

“I'm so sorry I hurt you, Hermione, but I am trying to fix this. I'm trying to fix us!” He said, desperate to have her understand.

She was quiet, her arms folded, her head held high. She glanced up and stared at the ceiling, remaining stubborn.

He sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. He closed his eyes, unbelieving of what he was about to say. “Maybe this is a bad time. I'll come back later.” With a soft pop, he was gone.

~~

Walking through the streets, Harry decided right then and there it was about time he paid a good friend his weekly visit. Stopping at the steps outside and toying with a lovely white orchid growing in the flower pot, he rang the doorbell. Giggling was heard from inside and Harry suddenly hoped nothing sexually clandestine was happening on the other side of the door. Knowing these two, it was highly probable. But the door flung open and the redhead and blonde greeted him with big smiles.

“Evening, Harry,” Ron grinned, with his left arm still on the door, his right arm perched over his wife's shoulders.

“My tea leaves told me we'd get a visit from you today, Harry,” Luna smiled.

Dedication: This chapter is dedicated to *someone special* out there. I love walking in the rain with you.

-->

Harry couldn't stop his grin as he was enveloped in a big hug from the loving couple.

“Come in, come in,” Ron laughed, pulling his friend in. He closed the door behind them and kissed Luna on the cheek. “Put on a pot of tea, will you, Star?”

Luna smiled and kissed him back in response. She then walked over to Harry and took his hands in hers. She shook them slightly and kissed both his cheeks. “I'm glad to see you Harry. Something tells me we'll have so much to talk about today.” She then skipped off to the kitchen, humming some tuneless tune.

Ron grinned and turned to Harry. “She's been wanting to serve that new tea to visitors for so long. You have good timing.” He slapped Harry on the back and they shared a laugh. They entered the living room where they took a comfortable seat in front of the other.

“What brings you here, Harry?” Ron asked, seriously intrigued.

Harry waited a while, observing Ron's house. Being a successful keeper paid Ron well and it was obvious the room was filled with both Ron and Luna's tastes. He visited his friend quite often. Luna and Ron were careful about booking Harry and Hermione on the different days, however. As a result, Harry and Nicole had visited and seen these rooms. Harry wondered if darling Charles had seen the house. He turned back to his best friend and clicked his tongue. “I'm here about Hermione.”

Ron barely moved a muscle. “Yeah.” There was a silence between them as they listened to Luna stirring something in the kitchen. “Have you seen her lately?”

“Yeah, just this morning. Went to see her at work.”

Ron nodded. “She looks good, doesn't she?”

Harry nodded strongly in agreement. “Very good.” There was another pause between the two. “She always does, though,” Harry said to no one, really. The pathetic comment received no comeback from Ron whatsoever and Harry was beginning to regret coming until-

“Look,” Ron leaned forward, putting his hands together. He bowed his head and glanced up, causing a spooky shadow to appear until his eyes. “Hermione means a lot to me. If anyone aside from her knows that, it's you. You know that.”

Harry nodded.

“And you really broke her heart, Harry.”

Harry sighed and bowed his head.

“I was just joking when I spoke about you and Nicole. Can you even imagine how idiotic I looked when she found out I was the one who introduced you two?”

Harry stopped him with a wave of his finger. “No. Don't do that, Ron. I met Nicole on my own.”

“Yeah, and you chased after her on your own.”

Harry closed his eyes and sighed.

Ron did the same. What he wanted to say wasn't coming out well. “Harry, you broke her heart.” He paused; upset he wasn't like Hermione, who knew how to describe her emotions. He glanced up again. “She hated you.”

Harry kept his eyes closed, hearing his heart in his ears. Hermione hated him.

Ron sighed again, burying his head in his hands. “But she loved you,” he whispered.

Harry's eyes slowly opened.

Ron sniffed and brought his head back up. He sat up in his chair. “She loved you even though she hated you. Even though you broke her heart. Even though you ran off with someone else. She loved you.”

Harry wanted to nod. To say something. But he couldn't. Because he was living through everything Ron just said. He still loved Hermione even though she hated him. Even though he ran off with someone else. He still loved her. And he always would.

Ron swallowed with little difficulty. He was going to let it all pass. “Because of that fact, I decided not to kill you,” he said seriously.

Harry looked his friend in the eye, knowing it was the truth. Hermione's heart was broken and he knew Ron would have killed him. He knew that feeling; wanting to kill someone who hurt Hermione.

“What do you know about this Charles character?” Harry asked slowly. Things between him and Ron were fine now and had been for a while. It was time to get what he came for.

Ron smiled slightly. “Ah yes,” he said in a way that made Harry hate Charles even more, “Good ol' Charlie.”

“His name is Charles,” Harry said, coming out angrier than he intended to.

Ron stifled a laugh and raised his arms. “Don't look at me, he told me to call him Charlie.”

Harry restrained gritting his teeth. Instead, he clenched his hands. “He's been here?”

The almost tense moment was interrupted right then by Luna, who came into the living room with three mugs on a tray. She handed them out, one by one, and took a seat next to Ron.

“Drink up,” she said enthusiastically, “There's plenty more.”

Harry withheld a gasp when he glanced down. The tea was nothing more than an extremely bright blue, heavy goop. He held his mouth closed with all his might and glanced up, relieved when Ron and Luna were sipping it, smiling every now and then at the other. Harry closed his eyes and slowly brought the liquid to his mouth, letting a teaspoon of the tea to slip ever so slowly into his mouth. He swallowed it quickly and smiled a big smile when he realized the liquid was warm, sweet, and tasted of blueberries and honey. He took another big sip and wiped his mouth.

“Now what were you two talking about before I arrived?” Luna asked, blowing on her tea.

Ron draped his right arm over Luna's shoulder and pulled her closer. “Harry just visited Hermione.”

Luna's eyes widened. “Did you really?” she asked breathlessly. “How did that go?”

“Not so well,” Harry said sadly, sipping at his tea.

“Oh, that's a shame,” Luna said, sadness in her voice. She paused, looking out the window. Then she drew her attention back at Harry. “Did you meet that nice chap?” She turned to Ron and placed her hand on his knee. “What was his name again?”

“Charlie,” Ron replied with a grin before putting his hand on hers and rubbing her knuckles.

“Charlie!” Luna exclaimed, looking back at Harry. “Delightful man.”

“He came here?” Harry asked almost sadly.

“Well,” Luna said softly, “It was quite obvious he was interested in Hermione and good old Hermione wanted us to meet him before she considered him. I think Ginny's even met him.” Luna was quickly and tenderly silenced with a soft squeeze from Ron. She turned to him and he made a pained face, shaking his head. She turned back to Harry, seeing what her words had caused. “But even though he got top marks,” she said truthfully, “She hasn't considered him once.”

“Oh really,” Harry said glumly, playing with the ring around his mug.

“Really,” Luna said forcefull-well, as forcefully as Luna could. “She still loves you, Harry.”

Ron had just swallowed some tea and kept his mouth closed. He waved the mug to Harry with an arrogant look on his face. See?

Harry rolled his eyes. “And I still love her. But it isn't that simple.”

“I'll agree,” Ron said, “Love isn't easy but if-”

“Anyone can do it, it's you two,” Luna finished.

Harry closed his eyes. “It's just that…it's Hermione.” He looked up at them. “You know?”

Ron nodded in accord. Luna tilted her head in confusion.

“She's my best friend,” Harry said the same way he had said it when he was young. “I want to talk about my relationships with my best friend.”

“You feel alone?” Ron asked quietly.

Harry swallowed and raised his head slowly. “Yeah,” he rasped.

Luna and Ron sighed together.

“Oh Harry,” Luna whispered.

“Mate, you'll never be alone,” Ron said with a soft smile. He squeezed Luna's hand. “Star and I will always be here for you.” He waved his other hand at Harry. “You've got Ginny, too. Come to think of it, you have my entire family.” The three shared a good laugh when Harry realized it was true.

“Don't worry about Charles,” Ron said seriously.

“He's of no threat to you,” Luna finished.

Ron nodded. “You're the only one she wants.”

“How could that be?” Harry asked incredulously. “After all I've put her through?”

Ron shrugged. “How can you still love her after everything you've gone through?”

Harry opened and closed his mouth for a second. “Because,” he said, “She's Hermione.”

“And you're Harry,” Luna said. “I foresaw it even when we were in school. You've just said it as well, Harry. She's Hermione and you're Harry. That's how it works. That's how it's always worked. Hermione and Harry. Harry and Hermione.”

Ron smiled at her, caressing her knuckles once more. “I love you, Star,” he whispered.

Harry sighed in almost agreement.

“You know,” Luna said so quickly and suddenly, it startled Harry, “Some muggles spend their entire lives looking for their soul mate?”

“Star, I think wizards and wizards do, too,” Ron said, sipping at his tea.

“I've read so much about those in the world who have given up everyone for love,” she continued, ignoring Ron's comment. “Some of them live forever and don't even find that one other person they're meant to be with.” Her eyes went wide and her voice, wispy. “But when two soul mates meet, they click. They fall in love and suddenly, their auras align and their love halos mesh together.”

Harry ignored the last bit Luna added in and smiled, letting the tea rest in his stomach. “So you're saying everything between Hermione and I will be alright because we're soul mates?”

There was a pause as Luna tilted her head, obviously confused. “No,” she then said slowly, “I'm saying don't fuck up anything because Hermione's your soul mate.”

Ron began coughing violently, shielding his mouth from Harry's view.

Harry couldn't help but turn away with a smile.

Luna continued to drink her tea with an innocent look on her face.

Harry was about to say something else when he finished the blue tea and this time, gasped. The tea leaves for the delicious blue goop were extremely dark green and formed some sort of umbrella. He was about to open his mouth when he looked up, seeing Ron and Luna were looking in theirs.

“I've got a boat,” Luna said softly with happiness.

“I've got some sort of umbrella. Upside down.” Harry said.

“I've got a serious thirst today,” Ron said, grabbing the teapot, ignoring the bottom of his cup. Luna took his cup out of his hand before he could pour himself more, however.

“Star-”

“You've got grapes!” She said with a smile.

He took the mug rather violently from her and poured himself some more tea. “Whatever,” he muttered.

“What do grapes mean?” Harry asked.

“It means happiness. Peace, Love,” Luna said dreamily, playing with Ron's bangs.

“I don't need foliage to tell me I'm happy,” Ron said, finishing filling up his mug, sitting back down and placing his hand back on Luna's knee.

Luna and Harry rolled their eyes simultaneously. “What is a boat?” Harry asked, not really interested, but not wanting to be impolite when it meant so much to Luna.

“It means I'll be getting a visit from a friend,” Luna said calmly.

Harry couldn't help but scoff. “Come on, Luna,” he said, unable to retain his personal feelings in such a subject. “You mean to tell me your tea saw me coming?”

“No, silly,” Luna said, pouring herself more tea. “I got a boat yesterday. This one is new.”

There was a pause as Ron started to smile into his mug.

Harry's jaw dropped. “Luna…” he whispered warily, “What's an umbrella?”

“It means a new lover is coming your way,” Luna said, smiling at Ron when Ron started giggling.

“And an upside down umbrella?” Harry asked slowly.

“An old lover is coming your way,” Ron laughed.

Something clicked. Harry put his mug down and looked at Luna. “You didn't.”

“She wanted to come over just before you arrived,” Luna said, unable to stop smiling.

“She's coming here?” Harry asked, incredulously.

“Star, is this a scratch?” Ron asked, referring to his arm.

“I can't believe you did this!” Harry said.

“She doesn't know you're here. If you want to leave, you can.”

“It's a strange place for me to have skimmed with a blade, don't you think?”

“I don't want to leave, I want to stay here! You're my friends, too!”

“No one is saying you're not our friend! You're being silly, Harry.”

“It's not bleeding, is it? I can't really see it from this angle. Star, help me out here.”

“I'm not being silly! You're being impossible. Can't you cancel with her?”

“She called before you arrived. If you really want to play the time game, you're the one interfering with her plans. Why are you doing this, Harry, don't you want to see her?”

“I hate blood. I really hope it's not bleeding. Do we still have those muggle bandages Dad brought over the last time they visited, Star?”

“Of course I want to see her. I want to be with her. She's the one who doesn't want to.”

“Of course she wants to be with you. She's just upset, Harry. She's so upset with the way you treated her. You must understand that, I don't know why you can't and don't.”

“I really must be more careful with myself. Can't tell you how many times I've nicked myself while shaving.”

“I understand she was hurt. I understand it all. And I've put myself through Hell, as well. I want to fix this, I want to love her; I want us to be together.”

“And she wants time.”

“*sigh* I'm so tired of giving her time, Luna. I want us. I want us and I want us now.”

The doorbell rang, interrupting the little discussion between the two. Ron was still rubbing at his arm. Luna took out her wand and touched the tip with it. The scratch disappeared.

“I love you,” Ron whispered, never taking his eyes off Luna.

“Don't need foliage to know that either,” Luna whispered back, before kissing him softly.

“Fucking tea leaves,” Harry muttered, turning away from the two and his cup. He took three big strides and opened the front door. “Oh god no,” he groaned loudly.

“Evening, Harry,” Charles said with clear embarrassment, his gaze at the floor.

“Fancy seeing you here,” Hermione said coldly.

Dedication: This chapter is dedicated to *someone special* out there. I don't want anyone else to realize how amazing you are. Because you'll wake up that day and wonder why you're friends with me.

-->

“Is this a bad time?” Charles asked slowly.

“Nonsense.” Hermione said, still staring angrily at Harry. She couldn't believe he was here.

“Nonsense indeed,” Harry said quickly, returning Hermione's gaze. How could she bring precious Charlie here? “I was just having a little chat with my friends here.”

“Were you, now?” Hermione asked. “How coincidental.” She almost grit her teeth.

Harry's eyes closed slightly. She was not accusing him of… “How childish do you think I am, Hermione?”

Hermione smiled an arrogant smile. “Really?” She was ready to launch into a speech about how childish she thought he was when Ron opened the door wider from the side.

“Hermione,” he said with a smile. He turned his gaze upwards. “Charlie.” He put his hand forward, pass Hermione, and shook Charles's hand firmly.

“Ron,” Charles said politely.

“Ron,” Hermione said, a bit more strained than she wanted to.

There was a bit of an awkward moment as the four stood there, unmoving in the cramped spot around the door. “Come in, Star's put a pot of tea on,” Ron said suddenly, moving and pulling Harry out of the way.

“I'm making dinner!” Luna called from the kitchen.

“And she's making dinner,” Ron laughed. He opened his arms and waved them into the living room. “Come in, come in. I'll go get more tea cups and mugs.” He turned away and walked out of the room.

Harry was about to enter the living room when he moved to the side, turned around and let Hermione pass before him. She looked beautiful; he was going to admit it. He grit his teeth when he thought of the possible fact that she dressed up for Charles. “You look nice,” he said in her ear when she passed him, just loud enough for both of them to hear.

She halted her steps and let her breath quicken slightly. Her eyes darted to him and back to the living room. “So do you,” she whispered, cursing at herself for even saying anything. She took a seat, furthest away from Harry.

Knowing he shouldn't push his luck, Harry took a seat directly across from her.

Charles, however, decided to sit right next to Hermione. The three sat uncomfortably, hoping a topic would pop out at any time. Fortunately, Ron returned with two more tea cups and took a seat next to Harry on the couch. “Charlie, it's good to see you again,” he said after relaxing.

Charles smiled, happy to get a conversation started that evening. “It's good to see you, Ron. I saw the game last night, well done with that back flip catch near the end, it was astounding.”

Ron almost blushed. He was incredibly modest despite the undeniable fact that he was so skilled, he should boast. “Oh, thanks, it was nothing, really.” Out of habit, he laid back and brought his left arm around Harry's shoulder. The three visitors stared at Ron, none wanting to say anything. It was a good fifteen seconds before Ron realized who he was cuddling with when he yanked his hand back rather quickly. “Sorry,” he aid sheepishly.

Harry stared at his friend for a second before cuddling back against him. There was a small laugh from everyone in the room.

Hermione even giggled, taking a sip of Luna's Blueshyre tea. She loved her boys and their playful nature. She suddenly thought of specifically, Harry's playful nature and tossed her head to the side slightly, pushing those thoughts away. She shouldn't think about him, it wasn't good.

“Cannons fan, are you, Charlie?” Harry asked, taking advantage of Charles's newfound nickname.

“Much more of a Puddlemere fan, really,” Charles replied, withholding a grimace as he swallowed some tea. What in blazing hell was this?!

“Ah, Wood's team,” Harry coyly smiled. He turned his gaze to Hermione. “Has he changed you into a P United fan yet, Hermione?”

Hermione couldn't stand it when he got like this. When he got arrogant and confident and flirty for no good reason. She hated him because she knew he knew it was driving her crazy, in more ways than one. “Charles used to play Quidditch at school,” she said, raising an eyebrow.

Harry didn't seem interested at all. He turned his gaze back to Charles. “Did you? What position?”

“I was the backup keeper,” he replied, with no shame in his voice.

“Really?” Harry asked. He turned his gaze back to Hermione but kept talking to Charles. He was being arrogant and confident and sexy for no good reason. He knew it drove her crazy. “I was the seeker and captain of my team.”

“Harry,” Hermione said, never taking her eyes off him.

Harry smiled and even laughed. “I was.”

Hermione rolled her eyes and turned away from him, sipping her tea. “Arrogant prick,” she muttered.

“I've got a lot to boast about,” Harry muttered back with a smile.

Hermione set her cup down. “Harry!”

“Have some more tea, Charlie,” Ron offered to break the tension, lifting the teapot in front of Charles's empty teacup.

Charles's eyes almost went wide. He waved his hand. “No, thank you.”

“Not a fan of blueberries, Charlie?” Harry asked, nodding when Ron then offered to fill his cup.

“Actually, Charles is quite the fan of fruits,” Hermione said truthfully, bobbing her head slightly. Arrogantly. Haughtily. And they both knew how Harry reacted when she did that.

“I like meat,” Harry said almost huskily, staring at Hermione.

“Yes, one would think so, you wild animal,” she mumbled, sipping at her tea.

“I'm known to be quite the animal,” Harry grinned evilly.

Hermione raised her head and stared at him like he was impossible and unbelievable. There had been more sexual references in this conversation than she thought she had ever had. They continued to look at one another for a little while longer when Charles cleared his throat.

“Does Luna need any help in the kitchen, Ron?”

Ron swallowed his tea quickly and shook his head. “Oh, I wouldn't do that if I were you. She's got special places for certain cooking items.” He rolled his eyes and waved his arms. “Baking powder under the sink, baking soda two drawers above a dairy product, sugar no more than a meter away from the canola oil…” He sighed; a happy sigh, though. “It's just not worth it. Thanks for offering, though.”

“Charles is quite the gentleman,” Hermione popped in.

“Last time I checked, you liked dangerous men,” Harry said with a wink, so ready to rip his shirt off and show her his wounds.

“Last time you checked, I was with you and we both know you're not a gentleman,” Hermione said.

“Hermione, that's not fair,” Ron finally intervened. He was on Hermione's side, mostly. But he was sort of on Harry's side, as well.

“Ron,” Hermione said, almost warning him not to get involved. Neither Harry nor Hermione wanted to hurt another best friend.

“Don't accuse me of not being a gentleman; I've always treated you with respect and love. Less than you deserve but I tried as hard as I could,” Harry said, trying not to raise his voice.

“And your best fell short,” she said directly.

“You want to just write us off, then?” Harry sneered.

“There is no `us',” she replied, pushing away the sadness that crept over her with the reality of that sentence.

Fortunately, the Weasleys always had good timing and Luna was a fast learner. She entered the living room right after this little spat and squished between Harry and Ron. Ron smiled this time and brought his arm around her shoulder, pulling her close. “Dinner's almost ready,” she said. “Have some tea, Charlie,” she said, after noticing the man's empty cup.

Not wanting to disappoint the lady of the house and proud owner of the…interesting tea, Charles withheld a sigh and poured himself a cup of tea.

“How was work, Hermione?” Luna asked. Where there was no response from the brunette, Luna followed Hermione's strong glare towards Harry and looked away shyly. Choosing a safer topic and individual, she turned back to Charles. “We were all talking about tea leaves just before you arrived. Do you believe in tea leaf readings, Charlie?”

Charles had just finished his tea in one gulp, miraculously stopping a grimace to appear. “No, not in particular,” he sighed, putting the teacup down.

“You know, this is just like you,” Hermione suddenly said. “Following me everywhere-”

“I didn't know you were coming tonight and what's that supposed to mean, following you everywhere? I'm not a dog, Hermione,” Harry interrupted.

“Why can't you get it, Harry, we're not going to be together,” Hermione said desperately, wondering who she was trying to convince.

“I want to know why we broke up in the first place, Hermione.”

She saw red. Oh, she suddenly remembered who she was trying to convince. “I'll tell you why, it's because you met someone else. The moment I leave for one weekend, you jump into the arms of someone else. Someone brighter, more talkative, more pretty, more deep than I. Nicole's just perfect for you, isn't she?”

“She's obviously missing something if we've broken up and I'm here; chasing you.”

Hermione scoffed. “Or you've simply lost your mind.”

Harry considered that sentence. God, when she was right, she was right. “Yes, I have.” He sighed weakly. “I've come completely mad for you, Hermione. We were crazy for one another.” He paused. “And we still are.”

Hermione decided to turn her head away. She couldn't look into those eyes. Yes, she was still crazy about him. But it wasn't smart. It just wasn't smart to be with him, even though she wanted to.

Harry sighed. “Why is he here?” He asked restlessly, motioning to Charles, who had been wondering the same thing all night.

“Don't speak to him that way, he's my guest,” Hermione said, angry he had to bring Charles into this.

“You're trying to distract yourself with him, you don't even know him,” Harry said calmly.

Hermione sneered. “I know him.”

“Alright. Maybe. But does he know you?”

He was doing it again. Being arrogant and confident. Except this time, with good reason. “And I suppose you do, Harry?”

Harry licked his front teeth. He turned his gaze to Charles. That poor chap. “Do you know why she prefers cold apple cider as opposed to hot? Do you know she color-coordinates her socks in her drawers? Do you know why she likes nuts with her ice cream? Do you know why she like noodles before rice and not rice before noodles?”

Charles sighed, completely beaten. He saw it now. He turned his gaze to the floor, sort of embarrassed, even though he knew Harry didn't mean to.

Harry turned back to Hermione. He voice softened. “Does he know about the twitch in your left eye when you lie? Does he know your right eyebrow moves up and down when you tease? Does he know your breath hitches up when someone hugs you?” He paused. “Does he know how your eyes close when someone kisses you?”

“That's enough,” she said, barely whispering.

“He doesn't know anything about you.”

“He's trying to.”

“He's just a friend, Hermione.” He brought his hand out and pointed at her. “But you.” He brought it back and circled his heart. “And Me.” He paused again. “It's the way it is.”

She was almost disgusted. “I don't belong to you,” she whispered.

“But I belong to you. And you will always have my heart. What do you want to do with it, Hermione?”

“I've enough of you,” Hermione said hastily, turning her gaze away from him, not wanting to fall for him all over again.

“You know what,” Charles finally said calmly, getting up. “Thank you for the invitation, Hermione, but I just remembered I left some paperwork at B and F's.” He looked at Ron and Luna who were busy snuggling, obviously used to Harry and Hermione having intense exchanges. “I'll take a rain check on the dinner, that alright?”

Luna nodded, smiling when Ron caressed her knuckles with his lips. “You're always welcome, Charlie.”

Hermione had gotten up from her seat and taken Charles's hands in hers.

Harry barely reacted to the motion. He knew he had gotten through to Charles. Poor chap. But he'd find someone else. Hermione was his. And he was definitely Hermione's.

“Stay, Charles,” Hermione said softly.

“I wish I could but I really should get going,” Charles whispered back. He turned to the Weasleys and nodded in farewell. “Thank you again for the tea.” He then walked out of the living room and began gathering his coat in the front.

Hermione sighed, closing her eyes. “Excuse me,” she said softly, before chasing after Charles.

“Excuse me,” Harry said just as softly, before chasing after Hermione.

“Harry,” Ron called, but was too late. He shrugged when the three were out of view. He turned to Luna. “Peace and quiet, Star. Thank goodness.”

“Hush,” Luna said, silencing him with a kiss, “There's more to be said tonight.”

~~

Harry didn't want to get involved. He simply stayed around the corner, his arms folded.

“Please, stay, Charles.”

“There's no point in staying, Hermione. You two belong together.”

“That's not true.”

“Who are you kidding? All you could ever talk about is Harry. Since the day we first met.”

“That doesn't mean anything. Please, stay.”

“Why are you doing this, Hermione? He loves you. He wants to be with you.”

“I don't want to be with him.”

“…Of course you do!”

“We're not right for each other.”

“Are you daft? You two are so perfect for each other, it's frightening.”

“Charles-”

“No, I don't want to hear it, Hermione. Go back in there. Really, it's alright.”

“Charles.”

“Hermione, you two belong together. It's just the way things are. It's the way things have always been.”

“Don't let his words get to you.”

“Hermione, the thing is; he's right. I don't know anything about you. I don't know those details he's listed.”

“That's all they are; details.”

“They're not insignificant, Hermione. He notices you. He notices everything about you. And I'd be willing to bet 50 galleons; you can make a longer list about him. *sigh* Hermione, you two are perfect for one another. Really. I see the way you two look at one another. I see the look on your face when you think of him. I see the way his words and actions affect you.”

“...”

“And it's alright. *Pause* I'll see you tomorrow, Herm-Ms. Granger.”

When an open and close of the door, he was gone. Harry sighed. He didn't mean to hurt Charles, as much as he originally wanted to. He heard Hermione rest her forehead on the front door. He leaned his head back on the wall. And together, they stood there for who knows how long, knowing the other knew they were there.

That's right, she knew he was there. She knew Harry was listening. Because she just knew him. He was Harry. And it was getting harder and harder to resist Harry.

Dedication: This chapter is dedicated to *someone special* out there. Yes, it's true; you're not the brightest crayon in the box. But you're the only one I want to pick.

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She didn't know how long she stood here, head against door. But she did know that Luna's head slowly popped out from behind the living room wall and invited her back in with a soft smile and sad expression. Hermione smiled back weakly and pushed herself forward from the door. She made her way into the living room and smiled to herself when she saw Luna cuddle back with Ron. Irregardless of the reactions from everyone when they had announced it, she had to admit they were absolutely adorable together. She sat down slowly, keeping her eyes set on the carpet. If she wasn't so close to Ron or Luna, she'd be so embarrassed. She felt a rush of conflicting emotions.

Oh, that Charles. That sweet, sweet Charlie.

Oh, that Harry. That…that…that idiotic Harry.

There was a creak in the carpet and she glanced up. Harry's hands were in his pockets, his eyes set on the ground.

“I shouldn't have cone. I'll be going now.”

It was Luna who stood up this time, with a smile that was questionably large. “Nonsense, nonsense, there's plenty of food.” Without another word, she turned around and walked into the dining room, moving a fork a smidge to the left.

“No, really,” Harry tried pathetically once more, scratching the back of his head. It wasn't right. Anything that he had done. What a surprise.

“Honestly, mate, stay,” Ron said surprisingly softly as he got up from the sofa. “We made enough for four people.” He patted Harry on the back before going into the dining room as well.

There was a bit of a tense moment as both Harry and Hermione kept their gaze to the floor. Harry sighed, feeling a weight in his stomach. “I'm sorry, Hermione. I didn't mean to-”

“I know.”

“It doesn't justify what I-”

“I know.”

Harry sighed, unsure if he was glad she could read him mind or not.

Hermione inhaled and exhaled before getting up and patting his chest. “Don't be rude,” she said softly, caressing the folds on his shirt, “Stay for dinner.” She made a motion to move but halted in her steps. That tie. That tie he was wearing. It looked so familiar. Her eyes went wide when it dawned on her. The tie she bought him on their first anniversary. She grabbed her hands away from him, almost rudely, and hid her eyesight from his, making her way into the dining room. He followed.

~*~

Ron and Luna had decided to go to a late-night movie.

“There's that new movie out, Star,” Ron had said.

“What movie?” Luna had asked.

“Oh, you know, that movie with the bloke you like so much.”

“Oh. Oh yes…him.”

“Yes, come along, Star, before we miss the previews.”

Harry and Hermione had settled into comfortable chairs, awkwardly staring at one another, unsure of who should speak or even leave first.

“Excellent dinner,” Hermione mumbled.

“Hm,” Harry agreed just as quietly.

“How's work?” she asked, desperate to halt anything that could lead to awkward conversations.

Harry tsked. “It's terrible.”

“Is it?” The concern in her voice was unmistakable and she wished she could have taken it back the moment she asked the question.

“I'm thinking of quitting.”

She rolled her eyes at this, the concern disappearing. “Hush, you'll do no such thing.”

“Work just isn't the same when I don't have you,” he said quietly, keeping his eyes focused on the arm chair. The teasing in his voice was gone.

She bit her lower lip and closed her eyes. Work wasn't the same without Harry, either. Life, really, wasn't the same without him. “I know.”

Harry picked at a loose thread on the arm chair. “I want that life back, Hermione. I just want to do this again. A do-over. I want another chance at a life with you.”

She wanted it, too. So badly. But things wouldn't be the same. Would she be able to trust him as well as she had once before? “Things have changed.”

He shook his head, twisting the thread around his finger. “Not the important things. I still love you. You still love me.”

“It's more complicated than that, Harry.”

His eyes slowly rose to view her. “You still love me, don't you?” he asked slowly.

She felt her head grow heavy and her eyes slowly glisten.

“It's okay,” he offered.

Hermione sighed, dropping her head into her hands. “I have never stopped loving you, Harry Potter,” she whispered pathetically.

He felt as though he had sprouted wings. It had been far too long since he had heard her say it.

She sniffed and brought her head back up quickly. Brushing her hair aside, she wiped at her eyes. “Are you happy now?” she asked, “I'll admit it; I still have feelings for you.” She got up from her chair, almost begging him with her hands. “But Harry, I can't do this to myself. We can't be together. Not after everything you've done to me. Everything you've put me through. I can't be with you, thinking every time I leave you; is he going to be lonely and be with someone else? I can't stop thinking about you. And I have to stop. It's not worth it, Harry.” She sighed and shook her head. “It's not worth it.”

Harry stared at her, taking in everything she had said. “You're the only one for me, Hermione,” he said innocently. He got up from his chair as well, but kept his distance. “If I don't have you,” he whispered, “I don't have anyone. And I'm nothing on my own.” He took some small steps towards her and managed to slip his hands around her waist. The two simply stood there for a moment, remembering how well they fit together. Their eyes connected and the tears stopped for a moment. Slowly, he leaned his head in, his lips getting closer and closer to hers. But she had turned away from him slowly and politely, easing out of his grasp and showing him her back. She sniffed and closed her eyes, completely powerless. “Some things are worth a second chance,” he whispered.

“And some things aren't,” she whispered back.

“I made a mistake. I made a huge mistake,” he said. He brought his arm up and rested his hand on her shoulder. “Please, let me spend the rest of my life making it up to you.”

There was another short moment as he waited for her response. She simply stared out into the open street. “It's too late,” she finally concluded, shrugging off his hand. When she made a motion to move, he reacted.

“He said you could make a longer list,” he said, referring to Charles' comment. “Is it true?” When she didn't respond, he took a step closer to her and whispered into her ear. “You always try to pull a suitcase with one hand first.”

There was another silence as he waited for her to list something about him. Finally, she sighed. “The first things you check on a broom are the bristles.”

He smiled, remembering all those times she had accompanied him to shops. “You secretly long to fly.”

“You read the last chapter of novels first.”

“You carry a pen with you everywhere.”

“You put chips in your sandwiches,” she almost giggled.

He smiled and turned her around to see her face. He cupped her face in his hand and wiped at a tear. “You tried it once when you thought I wasn't looking.”

She grinned this time. “You thought I wasn't looking.” She was always looking at him.

“You write two drafts before sending out an owl.”

“You rub your hands together when it's hot outside.”

“You crack your knuckles in the morning.”

“You whistle in the shower.” Too many times had she woken up to him happily whistling in the shower.

“You wish you could whistle.”

“You take the nuts off ice cream bars.”

“You like spending time in greeting card stores.”

“You own five pairs of shoes.” She secretly admired him for it.

“You wanted a bunny cake for your birthday when you were seven.”

“You tried to make your own Marauder's Map of your apartment.” She had offered to help him quite often but he refused, wanting to do it on his own.

“You're ticklish on your toes.”

“You sleep without a shirt on from May to September.” Although she wasn't a complainer.

“You take a shower every morning between eight and eight ten.” He loved that she was so punctual.

“You put your hands in your pockets when you walk home after a successful day.”

“Your left eye closes for a second when you smile and think of me.”

She stared at him, her hands shaking slightly as she brought them to his shoulders. Her eyesight suddenly shifted from his lips to his eyes and back again. “You like kissing me for no good reason,” she whispered, suddenly wanting nothing more than for him to just make her forget about the past year. If anyone could, it was Harry. Her Harry.

“Your hands shake when you're nervous,” he whispered, tightening his grip on her waist.

“You don't deserve me,” she murmured, tilting her lips towards his, their eyes slowly closing.

“No, I don't,” he said. “You deserve the world.” He paused, caressing her face. “And although no one can give it to you, no one will try to more than me.” It was a rather banal line that had popped into his head but it was total and utter truth and they both knew it. When she didn't respond and they brushed their lips together, he managed to smile weakly. “I win,” he breathed.

She closed her eyes and he kissed the top of her nose. “Bastard,” she muttered.

Harry smiled. “You absolutely hate losing.”

She took the sides of his face into her hands and brought her body flush against his. “Shut up,” she whispered quickly, “Please, just shut up.” And as they kissed feverishly, they knew that this time, they most definitely would not mess it up.

~*~ END~*~

Dedication: This chapter and entire fic is dedicated to *someone special* out there. Even though this might be the last fic I dedicate to you, know that I am incomplete without you. And without you, I'm not whole, I'm not happy, and I'm not real. No one will ever take your place in my heart.

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