He Could Always Read Her by atruwriter

Rating: PG13
Genres: Romance, Humor
Relationships: Harry & Hermione
Book: Harry & Hermione, Books 1 - 6
Published: 10/05/2007
Last Updated: 16/05/2007
Status: Completed

He could always read her face like a book. Her every delight or dislike was written plainly for
him to see. Soon, he found himself basing whether his girlfriends were right for him on whether or
not she pursed her lips. After careful deliberation, he finds the one woman she couldn't
possibly think was wrong for him. The one woman who has always been there. The only woman he's
ever loved. Her. Two-Parts




1. Part One: Past Mistakes
--------------------------

Title: He Could Always Read Her
Author: atruwriter
Email: atruwriter@hotmail.com
Warning: This contains former OC relationships with Harry.
Spoilers: None that I can think of...
Summary: He could always read her face like a book. Her every delight or dislike was written
plainly for him to see. Soon, he found himself basing whether his girlfriends were righ for him.
After careful deliberation, he finds the one woman she couldn't possibly think is wrong for
him. The one woman who has always been there. The only woman he's ever loved. Her.
Disclaimer: I do not own any rights to any of the television shows/books I have written fanfiction
for. I own only my creative thought process and the characters I make up on a whim. Ownership of
all else lies solely in the hands of others.
Author's Note: I've never actually written a lighthearted story, this one is basically my
first. Usually I'm heavy into angst and tragedy and death defying adventures. I'm also a
Dramione writer, though I've recently been writing more Harry/Hermione fiction. So, I hope this
meets the lighthearted, romantic standards set forth. Enjoy!
Image: Banner, made by **Moonys Aimee** of **The Dark Arts** - Click

**Part One**: **Past Mistakes**

Over the years, Harry had found a manner of deciding whether his current girlfriend was long
term or time to let go of. He hadn't realized he was doing it until (of all people) Ron told
him about it. During the seven years since Voldemorts defeat in what was supposed to be Harry's
seventh year at Hogwarts, Harry had made it his goal to live life to the fullest. He'd gotten
over the stuttering, shifting, nervous boy-with-a-crush attitude and managed to give off a
charming, suave nature he was sure his father had passed on to him (quite late, unfortunately). Had
he had the attitude earlier, his personal life at Hogwarts might have been a little easier to
manage. Being the Man-Who-Conquered, Harry was well known in the Wizarding world and often very
sought out by women, his age and numerous decades older. He had to be careful who he met, trusted,
and dated. So many were simply interested in the *title* of being with him, rather than
actually *being with him* and he wasn't interested in playing celebrity arm candy for
them. His goal was to find someone who truly loved him for him and to have a family of his own. To
finally be able to have that feeling of unending love that reached deep down into his bones and
never wavered. To have a son or daughter look up at him with pride and awe because they wanted to
be just like their dad. To have a wife to return to, a woman who knew him completely, just like his
parents had. To never be lonely or lost or empty again.

At twenty-four, he had a strong career as a Head Auror and while his job never ended, he felt
good in the fact that the most notorious Death Eaters had been caught by him and his close friends.
War veterans like his best mate Ron, and school chums Neville, Dean, and Seamus aided in bringing
in the worst of them. On a daily basis there was always someone else looking to cause havoc, to
destroy peace and happiness, and to reinstate the darkness that had overshadowed Harry's first
seven years in the Wizarding world. Harry had gone out of his way, however, to make sure that those
days would never repeat themselves. Balancing a social life and his work as an Auror was hard and a
lot of women weren't interested in having a battered boyfriend come home and want to sleep
rather than listen to their day of shopping, so Harry sometimes ended it with girlfriends before he
even put them through his now patented procedure of “staying or going?”

Given his rather shaky social life, Harry didn't introduce his girlfriends to his best
friends until it was time for him to find out whether they were keepers. It was five years in
before Ron figured out what Harry was doing, something not even Harry knew he was consciously
doing. Harry had always been able to read Hermione's face. It was like a book, the words were
written clearly in her movements and her small mannerisms. She didn't have to speak, or even
look at him, he could see it all in the little Hermione-things she did. He wasn't sure what
caused his decision to base every relationship he had on what Hermione did when she met his
girlfriends, perhaps because over the years he had learned that her brilliance meant that quite
often she was unquestionably *right*. And so, she became his personal 'keep or let
loose' teller.

There had been a total of five women who had ever managed to meet Hermione and Ron, and all five
had not met Hermione's standards for what was good enough for Harry. She never said anything,
never questioned Harry's decision when he broke it off with them. Quite often she'd just
nod her head, pat his hand and tell him, “*There's somebody perfect out there for you, Harry.
I know it!*” She didn't talk to him much about his personal life, and he had learned not to
bring it up with her unless absolutely necessary. She'd give him advice without question,
always had an answer to his newest issue with whoever it was he was dating. But there was a gleam
in her eyes that he never quite classified, but somehow learned that she didn't care much for
knowing about the women in Harry's life. She was lively when the conversation concerned women
like Ginny, who had married Neville a couple years after Voldemorts defeat, or Luna who was
currently engaged to Ron, and then of course there were older women like McGonagall and Mrs.
Weasley that the gleam never appeared for. But most others, women Harry was dating or had an
interest with caused that difference in her usually warm mocha eyes and it disconcerted Harry when
it appeared, so he gave up bringing those women up around her.

They had various other subjects to discuss anyway. Hermione had a busy life and she was always
interested in hearing how Harry was doing, at work, with friends, and just generally in his life.
Since Ron was so busy with Luna and the wedding lately, Harry found himself spending even more time
with just Hermione, something that was familiarly comfortable. His every girlfriend hadn't
appreciated how much time he spent with Hermione, but that was something he had long ago learned to
cope with. An ongoing issue with each of his girlfriends had been his close relationship with
Hermione. It was widely known throughout his exes that while he cared for them, they would always
be second. It wasn't something Harry had set out to do and he never told the women in his life
that it was the way of his life. It was just another part of Harry's life that he overlooked as
regular.

He didn't see any problem with spending every Friday night at Hermione's, watching
movies and eating pizza. Or how on Sunday's, he would spend brunch with her and her parents,
Theresa (fondly called Terry by family and close friends) and Jacob Granger. It wasn't unusual
for him to go to her when he was achy and bruised from Auror work, so he'd sit in front of her
as she massaged soothing balm into his injuries instead of going to whoever his current girlfriend
was. He didn't see anything wrong with that. He never understood that bringing up
Hermione's interests or personal thoughts on things made him sound like he was mildly obsessed
with his best friend. It was just a natural reaction to tell his current girlfriend what his best
girl friend thought of whatever was being talked about. He had no personal insight on the subject,
but he knew Hermione did, so he shared it. And, yes, he did start using her as a bit of a defense
measure, though he hadn't known it at the time. Sometimes saying that Hermione would understand
what they couldn't or that Hermione would know better not to talk to the press about certain
issues. He thought it was a way of explanation for them. They were the girlfriend, Hermione was the
girl friend, so they had similar roles, and he was just trying to get across to them the best way
to handle things. A way that had long passed worked for her, so why shouldn't it work for them,
too?

In the end, there were only five girlfriends who managed to accept Harry's close proximity
to Hermione and had made it to the day when Hermione would decide “yay or nay” on them. When Harry
searched back, he found he really had been paying close attention to just what Hermione was
thinking or how she was acting in reaction to his latest girlfriend. The first had been Tracy, a
pretty brunette with long curly hair and a slim body. She had dark green eyes, plump pink lips, and
had a love affair with clothing. She was bright, nice, and could be funny when she let herself
relax. Being very fashion oriented, Tracy ran a small robes store and constantly bought
subscriptions to whatever fashion papers were in at the time. Something Harry remembered most about
her was her tendency to giggle and shrug. During their two month relationship, she had met a few of
his Auror buddies and even met Ron before the day Harry had planned for. Ron liked her well enough,
saying she was '*a real looker*' and '*nice enough*'. He didn't look
too surprised, however, when Harry broke up with her shortly after Hermione met her.

They were having a dinner with all of Harry's close friends, some of which came in from
various places around Europe. Most of the Weasleys were present, excluding Percy and Charlie who
was in the middle of Dragon mating season and couldn't get away. Kingsley, Moody, McGonagall,
Remus, Tonks, Neville, Dean, Seamus, Luna, and a few friends Harry had met while traveling as an
Auror came in. Hermione was out of town for a meeting, but she had promised to be there for dinner,
so Harry cleaned and fixed up the place with Tracy's help. They spent a half hour or so just
getting back into the swing of things and finding comfort in old friendships and catching up. Tracy
didn't know anybody but Harry, even though she had met Dean, Seamus and Neville, who she found
to be very loud most of the time. Ron tried pulling her into a conversation, but he was soon
distracted by an odd comment Luna made and Tracy was quickly out of her element with Harry's
friends. For his part, Harry was awaiting Hermione's arrival as if she was bringing world
hunger to an end. He leaned against the hearth and half-listened to Remus and Tonks as they
discussed an old mission, when it finally roared to life and Hermione came out.

Harry grinned happily when he heard her muttering about soot in her crazy hair and used his wand
to banish the offending mess from her nicely curled brown locks. He wrapped an arm around her waist
and his smile grew as she turned to kiss his cheek while saying, “I do wish the apparition wards
could come down,” as her standard greeting. She'd been saying it for years, but he still found
it amusing to see her stumble out, covered in soot, and so he hadn't informed her that they
were taken down a couple years prior. He shot a look at Seamus who opened his mouth to correct her
and then winked at Hermione, “Where would be the fun in that, 'Mione?”

She rolled her eyes at him, though a smile tugged at her lips and then waved at Mrs. Weasley who
was carrying a large tray of cheeses, meats, and vegetables. “Oh! Would you like help, Molly?” she
asked politely, while trying to shrug out of her cloak.

Harry pulled it from her shoulders and wrapped it over his arm, placing a hand on the small of
her back. “Bet you a galleon she tells you to relax because you work too hard,” he whispered
against her face.

“Gambling is a horrid habit,” she replied, wrinkling her nose.

“Oh no, Hermione dear, you rest, you work far too hard,” Mrs. Weasley called back, waving a
hand.

Harry snorted, grinning at her.

Hermione rolled her eyes at him, shaking her head to tell him not to say a thing.

“Oi! Harry, stop hogging our best girl,” Ron shouted with his mouth stuffed full of a sandwich
of some kind. He came barreling through the crowd, knocking into people who just smiled, shaking
their heads at the natural behavior of Ron Weasley. He wrapped long arms around Hermione and lifted
her up off the ground in greeting. Laughing, Hermione embraced him back, shaking her head against
his shoulder. “Did'ja know, 'Mione, that Dobby talked *three* more House Elves into
asking for pay and vacation time?” he told her incredulously. “Who knew your mental spew campaign
would eventually work?” he said, snorting.

Harry stifled a laugh, watching as Hermione slapped the back of Ron's head and then took her
place next to him again as their best mate put her down so he could rub at his offended noggin.
Frowning at her playfully, he took the attention off him by saying, “Have ya met Harry's new
bird then, yet?”

Hermione's smile wavered a moment and she glanced back at Harry. “No, I didn't know he
was dating anyone.”

“Yeah, me either until she showed up with a bouquet of flowers for him,” Ron said, his brows
lifting. “Something about how he wasn't really about big gestures, so she thought she'd
show him the fun of it.” He shrugged his shoulders, his eyes scanning the crowd.

“What kind of flowers?” she wondered, her mouth pursed. Bad sign, Harry noted.

“I dunno. Lots of colors, store bought, that sorta thing,” Ron told her, shaking his head.

Hermione sighed, sounding rather nonplussed.

“What?” Harry asked, nudging her shoulder.

She looked over at him with a small smile, shaking her head slightly. “Nothing, I just...” She
looked back at Ron and then over to Harry, “A lot of store bought bouquets have Matsumoto asters,”
she explained frowning, “which you're allergic to,” she finished, lifting a brow.

Harry cocked his head to one side, his eyes turning up, “That would explain the sudden head cold
I had for the next few days after that,” he said, nodding.

Hermione chortled, shrugging her shoulders. “Well, I suppose if you couldn't remember, she
wouldn't know, right?” she told him, before her gaze swept the crowd. “Well, where is she then,
Harry? Are we going to stand in the middle of the den all day, or will something productive be
done?”

Harry grinned, angling her around Ron and walking her toward the girl who seemed to be sticking
out like a sore thumb. She was somewhat overdressed and appeared rather out of place. She just
seemed lost. Everybody else was in conversations and laughing or telling stories, while she stood
against the wall, her arms crossed lightly over her chest, staring out uncomfortably. With Harry on
one side and Ron on the other, Hermione was escorted to meet Tracy Shortstaff. Ron was telling her
all about what Luna had said earlier, something Tracy hadn't been able to understand at all,
while Hermione simply nodded her head, saying here or there that, “Yes, I'm sure if those
*existed*, they'd be fascinating.”

Finally, the time of reckoning. Hermione stopped a foot or so from Tracy, who seemed to
straighten out in front of Hermione, her shoulders squaring and a bright but rather fake smile
appeared. Harry knew that while Tracy had been more accepting of Hermione, she didn't quite
appreciate just how close Harry was with his best friend. Harry looked to Hermione to see what she
thought of her, and without knowing it at the time, read Hermione's expressions and appraisal
of Tracy as if it were the Fates handwritten manual of his life. Hermione's eyes scanned
Tracy's outfit, a tight, short red dress that looked quite fancy compared to the comfortable
jeans and sweater Hermione was donning and the easy going outfits of most of the other women in the
house. Her nose wrinkled and Harry knew right then that Hermione didn't like Tracy's sense
of fashion, which Harry knew first hand was a bit of an obsession for his girlfriend. Tracy was
always put together and never left the house unless she was completely organized, wearing the
latest fashions, and had the perfect amount of make up on. Hermione's eyes then found
Tracy's hair, which is when her face softened slightly and Harry understood that as meaning she
approved of the thick, soft curls, which Harry had found to be the most appealing part of Tracy. It
hadn't occurred to him at the time that they quite reminded him of Hermione.

“You must be Hermione,” Tracy said, holding her hand out, fingers down and wrist elevated in
what Fleur often said was much more 'feminine' that most other handshakes.

Hermione glanced down at her hand, her mouth pursing, and took the hand as she would any other,
shaking it quickly and strongly, which seemed to startle Tracy a bit. Harry took the pursed lips as
a very bad sign and chewed the the inside of his cheek in contemplation.

“Yes,” Hermione replied, her voice rather curt. “So, Tracy, how did you and Harry meet?” she
queried.

“Oh!” Tracy said, her eyes sparkling and a high pitched giggle escaping her. “Funny thing. I was
just about to go shopping, there was a wonderful sale happening at Gladrags, when I realized
I'd left my window open. Imagine my surprise when I look out to see my cat Jackson has escaped
through my flat window and got himself stuck in a tree.” She rolled her eyes, which now looked
quite heavy with make up and thick, brittle lashes stared out at Harry. “Harold happened to be
walking by, on his way to... What was it again, babe?” Harry had no idea and simply shrugged. They
had met nearly two months ago and he couldn't remember anything except that she had practically
wrapped her body around him in thanks when he got her cat down, covering the new shirt Hermione had
bought him in cat hair. Tracy shrugged it off, “Well, anyway, he was walking by and heard me
shouting. Stupid me, I forgot all about the fact that I had a *wand!*” She chuckled, rolling
her eyes at her own stupidity. “So then Harold levitated Jackson over to me and I couldn't let
a moment like that pass so I offered to buy him lunch for his help.” She shrugged, grinning happily
and waved her hand in the air, her long, manicured nails glittering with her bright red nail
polish.

Hermione visibly cringed three times during Tracy's short recollection, twice when Tracy
called Harry “Harold” and again when she called him “babe”. Harry knew how little Hermione cared
for pet names. She tolerated it when Harry and Ron (on occasion) called her 'Mione. She
didn't mind it when Harry called her “sweets” when he was trying to talk her into something she
was usually against. And more recently, the term “love” from Harry came second nature and she
simply smiled, hardly batting an eye lash. Terms like babe, baby, sweetums, pookie, and other such
nonsense completely got under Hermione's skin. And was more often than not, a reason for
Hermione to seriously reconsider her own relationships with men.

“Harold,” Hermione repeated, her eyes fluttering a moment in her irritation.

“Oh yes,” Tracy said, reaching out to run a hand down Harry's arm. “Harry feels so...” She
wrinkled her nose and pursed her mouth, “I don't know. It's rather humdrum, don't you
think?” she asked, giggling.

Hermione's lips pursed even further and Harry, though at the time had no idea he was basing
his decision off of Hermione's facial expressions, came to the conclusion that he and Tracy
really weren't working out. She was so feminine and rather helpless while he could care less
about shopping or whether his name sounded 'humdrum'. He liked his name. Harold wasn't
even his full name, it was just plain, regular Harry. He liked it, his friends didn't appear to
want to retch when they heard it, and he'd always noticed that it sounded melodic when Hermione
sounded it. “Not really, no,” Hermione replied, her eyes becoming rather stale when they met
Tracy's.

Tracy had no reply to that so she cleared her throat and turned to Harry and then glanced at
Hermione before turning her gaze down. “Well, I'm sure you're quite busy, you haven't
seen some of these people for some time, right?” she asked, forcing a smile. “Harry, why don't
you introduce me to some of your other friends?” she asked him, casting a rather uncomfortable look
at Hermione.

Harry shrugged, “You've met them all. Besides, Hermione was who I really wanted you to meet
tonight.” He motioned to his best girl friend who was leaning to the right a bit, against Ron who
was looking around the room for someone. Harry frowned, “She's right though, 'Mione, you
really haven't seen a lot of us for some time. You probably want to visit, right?” he asked,
rather disappointedly.

“I have all night,” she said easily, half shrugging. She looked up at Ron, half-smiling. “Luna
is examining the pumpkin juice, Ron, why don't you go see what it is that she's certain has
infested it.”

Ron glanced down at her sheepishly before nodding. “Yeah. Yeah, I should make sure it's, er,
not infested.” He lifted a hand, squeezing her shoulder. “I'll see you in a little bit,
'Mione. Good to visit with you. Been too long.”

She snorted, rolling her eyes. “I saw you two weeks ago at the Weasley family dinner,” she
replied, shaking her head. Ron shrugged, half grinning as he wandered off to the odd blonde by the
snack table.

“Two weeks is a long time,” Harry jumped in, his hand lifting to wrap around the back of her
neck, fingers delicately rubbing her skin.

Hermione looked over at him with a lifted brow. “Harry James, I saw you less than a week ago,
I'll thank you to remember. Somebody has to make sure you have clothes on your back,” she
reminded, referring to her sudden shopping day with Harry after he admitted he was lacking in the
wardrobe department.

Harry grinned, shrugging one shoulder and pulling her into his side. “How ever would I survive
without you?”

Hermione opened her mouth to reply but then her eyes shifted to Tracy, who was watching with a
mixture of disapproval and suspicion. “You'd get by,” she said, quietly. “Oh, look, there's
Seamus, I forgot to tell him that my secretary Tammy has been talking about him non-stop. I'll
be back in a moment,” she said rather quickly. She turned to Tracy, “Nice to meet you,” she said,
giving a small smile that didn't reach her eyes.

“Yes, it was,” Tracy replied, her voice full of false cheer. “We should get together some time.
Talk girl talk. Has to be rather suffocating with two male best friends,” she said, giggling with a
shrug of her shoulders.

Hermione's small smile faded and her eyes narrowed slightly. “Right. Perhaps,” she said
shortly. Turning, she beamed up at Harry, “Do try to stay out of trouble, Harry, I really want to
talk to you later about my interview earlier.”

“You have my word,” he promised, lightly squeezing her neck before he let his hand fall. She
smiled at him before turning to leave, and cast one last uncertain look at Tracy. Not three days
later, Harry broke it off with Tracy, who immediately accused him of using her until Hermione
realized he was in love with her. Harry had denied it completely and couldn't understand why
Tracy thought he was in love with his best friend, even though it had become a sort of regular
accusation amongst his girlfriends.

The second girlfriend Harry introduced to Hermione had met a similar fate. Her name was Catarina
and she had a great love for Quidditch. She talked about it non-stop, or more commonly Quidditch
players. She was a few years younger than Harry and while she didn't have the greatest
understanding of Quidditch, she quite enjoyed the men who played it. She had a succession of famous
Quidditch boyfriends behind her and Harry had, for some reason he still couldn't quite figure
out, fell under the same spell as the others. She was an energetic woman with long blonde hair, a
curvy body and warm mocha eyes, which Harry found most appealing. Harry had introduce Catarina to
Hermione at their favorite watering hole, The Crazy Quaffle, while Ron played a game of darts
across from them. He'd met Catarina the same time Harry did, at a Quidditch game where they had
been rooting for opposite teams. The only opinion Ron had about Catarina was that, “*she sure
does love Quidditch*.” He always said “Quidditch,” with emphasis, as if he was referring to much
more than the game. Harry chose to ignore it, knowing he was talking about her intense love of
Quidditch players. No longer a player himself, Harry only took the game in from the stands.

Hermione was sitting on a stool, holding a cool bottle of butterbeer and remarking on Ron's
inability to hit anything but bar patrons with his darts. Harry shifted on his feet next to
Catarina who was staring up at him with her large mocha eyes and sticking her bottom lip out for
him to go get her a drink. After amusing herself with Ron's newest folly of hitting some man in
the head with the back end of the dart, Hermione turned to Harry and Catarina, her eye settling on
the short woman. “Hello, you must be Harry's girlfriend,” she greeted in a friendly manner.

“Oh,” Catarina replied brightly, her eyes widening and her mouth widening in a large grin. “Yes,
call me Cat or Rina,” she said, shrugging her shoulders. “It's 'Mione, right?”

Hermione stiffened, her brow lifting slowly. “*Her*-mione,” she replied, nodding. Her eyes
thinned slightly but she recovered quickly and tried to smile. “So, you met Harry at a Quidditch
game, I hear.”

“Oh yes, it was the Tutshill Tornadoes against the god-awful Chudley Cannons,” she said with a
shrill laugh, rolling her eyes. “Poor Harry was rooting for the Cannons, can you believe it?” she
said, shaking her head.

Hermione frowned, her eyes moving to Harry and then Ron, who was muttering under his breath and
glaring daggers at Catarina. Clearing her throat, Hermione said, “Actually, the Chudley Cannons
have had a great year.” She smiled slowly, “If I remember correctly, they *beat* the
Tornadoes.”

Catarina shrugged, “Oh, really? Hmm, I hadn't known. I was more interested in the players,
really. That Merwyn Finwick,” she said, her eyes gleaming excitedly. “*Mmm-mmm*, wouldn't
you say?”

Hermione shifted on her stool, her nose lifting slightly, which to Harry meant she felt the girl
nearest her was acting rather childish in Hermione's opinion, or at the very least, wasn't
meeting Hermione's expectations. “Not really. I don't pay so much attention to the players
themselves.”

“Why else would you watch?” Catarina exclaimed, shaking her head.

Ron grunted, throwing a dart a little harder than needed and Harry shifted on his feet once
more, watching Hermione's reaction.

Hermione straightened in her seat. “I thought you were a Quidditch enthusiast,” she said, her
brow furrowed and her mouth set in a deep frown.

“Oh,” she said, giggling. “More of a Quidditch *player* enthusiast.”

Hermione chuckled hollowly, before lifting her butterbeer and sipping it. “So... your knowledge
of the game is... limited?” she asked, her brow lifting.

“I know next to nothing about it,” she admitted, shrugging her shoulders.

“I see,” Hermione replied, her gaze falling. “And your *enthusiasm* for Quidditch players,
how has that been for you?”

“Great!” Catarina said, leaning toward Hermione as if she were a close girl friend and
stage-whispering, “Let's just say the Tornadoes aren't my favorite team for nothing,” she
said with a giggle.

Hermione gave her a weak smile before letting out a long, suffering sigh. She gave Catarina a
look that could easily be confirmed as disgust mingled with disappointment and then rose from her
seat. “Ron, please, let me show you how to aim so you don't take anybody out,” she said, her
voice only mildly exasperated and mostly amused. She didn't try to draw Catarina into a
conversation after that, instead opting to talk to anybody but her. Hermione was polite enough when
Catarina talked to her, but Harry could clearly read in her eyes that his 'Mione was not
approving of his latest girlfriend. Her nose wrinkled regularly, her eyes thinned often, and her
mouth seemed nearly permanently pinched.

The next day, Harry broke it off with Catarina and wasn't surprised to see her picture in
the paper the next week with the reserve Keeper for the Wigtown Wanderers. Hermione hadn't
commented on the break up except to say, “D'you think she knows what a Wronski Feint is?”

Harry chuckled, “I think that's the first time you've pronounced it right.”

Hermione smiled wryly, “I've been doing my homework,” she told him with a wink.

Harry's third girlfriend, Emilia, was the one with the most potential, even in
Hermione's eyes. She had a great love for Muggle music and had been practicing since she was
young to master various Muggle instruments, which was quite interesting given she was raised
entirely in the Wizarding world. She was very smart and had a strong position in the Ministry of
Magic. She was quite attractive with long, straight black hair and dreamy cerulean eyes. She had
long legs, a slim figure and creamy pale skin. Her voice was on the husky side, always coming out
quite sensual and thick. She wasn't much interested in fashion or make up, but she loved
reading and enjoyed just hanging out with friends. Harry was quite certain that Hermione would like
her. In fact, he was almost sure that the two would hit it off and he would finally settle in for a
long term relationship.

Everything had started off nice enough. Harry invited Hermione, Ron, and Luna over for dinner to
meet Emilia and while waiting for the rest of his guests, he and Hermione had set up his house for
dinner and she picked out his clothes for him. Settling on her favorite green sweater of his and a
pair of black pants, Hermione told him to hurry up and get dressed and then hurried downstairs to
check on dinner. She had made them an especially enjoyable dessert too and since she spent about as
much time at his house as he did, she knew her way around. After a quick shower, Harry dressed and
made his way downstairs, wondering if his cologne was too strong. Hermione had bought it for him
the last Christmas and he never quite figured out how to put it on without overdoing it. After
checking the chicken in the oven, Hermione stood up and walked closer to Harry, sniffing the air.
“Just right,” she told him before he could even ask her if it was too much.

Ron and Luna, an unlikely but very well balanced couple, arrived early, most likely due to
Hermione telling them both that dinner was starting at quarter to the actual time. That way,
instead of being late like they would have been, they were right on time. Emilia showed up a couple
minutes after, apologizing and giving Harry a quick kiss on the side of his mouth. Dinner itself
was a great time, Emilia told them all an amusing story involving her older brother, Filibuster
fireworks, and her mother's favorite china set, while Ron cast fancied glances at Luna and
Harry eyed Hermione for a reaction. So far, her nose hadn't twitched, her mouth had yet to
purse, and a frown had been nary in sight. She laughed at the story, spent a great deal of time
discussing wonderful books with Emilia, and then shared a story of her own involving Harry and Ron,
something she'd never done with anyone but her closest friends and never once with any of Harry
or Ron's former girlfriends. Harry took it as a great sign and was relaxing in his chair while
Hermione served out dessert to each of them. It was then that it went all down hill.

Hermione sat across from Emilia, her leg crossed over the other as they talked about family,
friends, and career goals. Harry could almost see a friendship forming between the two and tried to
imagine himself and Emilia as an older couple, with Hermione palling around with the both of them.
The image was hard to conjure and oddly, he found Hermione was beside him, making Emilia look like
the outsider joining in. He brought himself back into the conversation and listened to Hermione
talk about her cousin Brody, who Harry had met and had to admit was quite the handful.

“Harry had accidentally given Brody a few sweets, not knowing that my cousin reacts to the
smallest bit of sugar as if he'd just been injected with adrenalin,” Hermione told her, rolling
her eyes upward and smiling. “So you can imagine he was quite the task to handle. He was
practically jumping off the walls, screaming instead of talking, and absolutely *obsessed*
with trying to braid my hair,” Hermione told her, chuckling.

Harry remembered that day. It had been a Saturday and Hermione's extended family were in
town for a wedding between one of Hermione's older cousins. Harry had gone along as her support
and date, having close ties to the Granger family anyway. He didn't even bother correcting her
various aunts and uncles when they referred to him as Hermione's “beau since forever”. It was a
lost cause by then and he really didn't see any harm in letting them think what they thought.
It always amused Terry, who also never corrected them but instead winked at Harry whenever it was
said. Jacob had explained the nature of Hermione and Harry's relationship the first few times,
but finally gave up and said, “Yeah, that's Harry all right.”

“Oh, children,” Emilia said, wrinkling her nose distastefully. “I can't *stand* them.
They're so messy and loud and... ugh,” she said, waving her hand and lifting her brows. “No,
I'm happy with just a book and bottle of butterbeer, thank you.”

Hermione's smile faltered slightly. “They can be a bother, but I love children,” she said,
nodding. “I hope to have a family of my own one day. Not as big as the Weasleys,” she said, smiling
at Ron, “Molly is a miracle worker, if you ask me. But, I think I'd enjoy having a few
children. Two boys and a girl, at least,” she said, sounding rather wistful.

Harry nodded agreeably, smiling to himself. He wanted a family, a big one preferably, but
he'd be content to have just one in the end. Boy or girl, didn't much matter. Just a child
of his own, someone to love unconditionally, to give what he never had growing up. He could see
himself as a father, he hoped he'd be a good one. He could teach them to fly, to talk Hermione
into giving them the last the cookie, to sneak around Hogwarts castle and not get caught, to play
the most amusing of pranks. He'd chastise them when they did wrong, but never let them believe
he didn't love them. He would hug them, kiss their little heads, ease their pain and whisk away
their ouchies. He'd give them large bedrooms that were designed to their comforts rather than
rickety old cots and stifling small bedrooms or uncomfortable cupboards and thin mattresses.

“Oh, not me,” Emilia said, drawing Harry's attention back to the conversation. “I've
never wanted children, they're simply not something that interests me. I think some women are
made for motherhood and others just aren't cut out for it. I've never really had the
nurturing gene and I'd much prefer a late night with my books or my work than putting a kid to
bed and cleaning up after them. Smelly diapers and crying children just aren't something that
interests me,” she said, shrugging her shoulder as he sipped a glass of wine and ate another bite
of dessert.

Hermione's face took on a whole other expression then. Harry watched her nose wrinkle, her
brow furrow, and her mouth purse to complete the worst of her expressions. It was quite easily
readable to Harry. Emilia was *not* staying. Hermione made no comment on children again,
actually opting not to speak much after that. Ron picked up the conversation, turning it to
Quidditch or something, Harry wasn't quite listening. He was watching Hermione, watching as her
shoulders slumped slightly and she quite eating her dessert, instead pushing it around with her
fork. Her eyes landed on Emilia and her mouth tightened once more before she looked over at Harry.
Her face relaxed then and she put on a brave front. She smiled at him, a warm and genuine smile
that comforted Harry. Even if Hermione hadn't approved of Emilia, he knew then that what they
had wouldn't have worked out. They had different goals and hopes for the future. Harry
couldn't fathom a future without a family and Emilia wasn't interested in children, so it
was a no go for sure.

Hermione squeezed his arm before she left, as if she knew what was going to happen. She kissed
his cheek and hugged him tightly, whispering, “A little girl, messy hair and your green eyes. I can
see that.”

He held her a little tighter, grateful that she could reassure him so easily. If she could see a
daughter in his future, then he would have a daughter. It was that simple. It was how easily he
believed her that reminded him that Emilia and him weren't meant to be. One day though, he was
sure, he would find someone who would meet both his and Hermione's standards. After Hermione,
Luna, and Ron had left, Harry explained to Emilia that it just wasn't going to work out. She
had taken it well, better than he expected.

“Kids, right?” she said, nodding slowly. “Yeah, I could tell right after I said it that it was a
sore point. The look on Hermione's face said it all.” Harry stared at her a moment, surprised.
She chuckled, shrugging her shoulders. “She's a lovely person, Harry. Smart, pretty, nice. You
have great taste.”

“Me and Hermione?” he asked, confused.

She sighed, smiling rather sadly. “You'll figure it out one day,” she said, nodding. Before
he could ask what she meant, she continued, “Even though it's ended, I had a wonderful time
with you.”

“Agreed,” Harry replied, squeezing her hands in his. She sat beside him on the couch, angled
toward him. Her eyes were shiny and her mouth shook a bit, but otherwise she was put together and
understanding.

“Take care, Harry,” she told him softly.

“You too,” he replied.

She stood from the couch, leaned down and pressed a short farewell to his mouth and then
floo'd home. Harry saw her around every once in a while and knew that Hermione and Emilia had a
steady friendship, often meeting for lunch at the Ministry. A friendship between him and Emilia
appeared too strained and they both seemed to agree not to push it. They became comfortable
acquaintances and he wasn't at all surprised when she married a nice bloke who was very career
oriented and not much interested in children.

Harry's fourth girlfriend had also met with Hermione's pursed lips and wrinkled nose.
Lisa, a confident red head spent more time smiling at cameras than talking to either Harry or
Hermione and he realized quite quickly that she was more of an attention hog than a girlfriend. She
seemed to relish in the spotlight and was never too busy to give an interview to The Daily Prophet
about the *great Harry Potter*. Hermione hadn't liked her to begin with, having read far
too many quotes from her and seen too many posed photos of her in the paper. But she had given her
best effort in trying to like Lisa when Harry introduced them at a Charity that Hermione was
heading for the Ministry. While trying to talk to Lisa about how her and Harry met and what her
interests were, Lisa only paid her half a mind and spent the rest of it waving at others and
grinning at the camera as she pressed herself against Harry's side. Before the night was out,
Harry had broken up with her and spent the rest of the evening with Hermione who was consoling him
while simultaneously trying to tell Dobby what a pint of Ben & Jerry's was in her freezer
so he could bring it back for them to share while they waited for the Charity to come to a close.
They would have left earlier for him to wallow in his pity but as coordinator Hermione had to stay
and Harry didn't want to go home alone.

His last and most recent, being a good nine months prior, had been Julia. Harry had been dating
Julia, who preferred being called Lia, for a good month before he introduced her to Hermione. By
this time he knew what he was doing, having been told by Ron shortly before he ended things with
Emilia. Instead of fighting against his odd need to know Hermione's opinion, he accepted that
what she thought of his girlfriends obviously meant something and went with it. Julia was an Auror
who had a great love for Muggle literature and was a huge fan of the Chudley Cannons. Her and Ron
met at a game, both being the loudest supporters of the orange and black team. Ron had introduced
her to Harry later when Harry had met him at The Crazy Quaffle for a victory drink. He hadn't
been able to come to the game since it was a Sunday and he spent the day with Hermione and the
Grangers. He and Julia had hit it off right away, enjoying a conversation about Quidditch and their
line of work. She was in an entirely separate devision than Harry and Ron, explaining why they
hadn't bumped into each other earlier and Harry was interested in learning more about what she
did.

He dated Julia for three months before finally introducing her to Hermione, who Julia wasn't
all that interested in meeting in the first place. It seemed Harry's only real problem with
Julia was the subject of Hermione, which he had been good at ignoring during the time they dated.
She was uncomfortable with how much they meant to each other and how ingrained they were in each
others lives. When he couldn't find his clothing, he need only floo-call Hermione and she could
tell him the exact place he'd left it. When he had a fight with Julia, he went directly to
Hermione's and cuddled up with her in her bed, nodding off as if it were the most natural thing
in the world. Even though Julia had never met Hermione, she constantly accused Harry's best
friend of trying to take him from her. She scowled when Hermione's name was brought up, huffed
when Harry said he was going out to meet her or ignored him completely when he mentioned anything
that had to do with Sunday brunch. Harry was pretty fed up with it and decided that all Julia
needed was to meet Hermione and she'd know that her insecurities were unfounded.

Unfortunately it hadn't happened that way at all. Julia was nice enough when she met
Hermione, but she didn't go out of her way to talk to her or even bring her into conversations.
It was almost as if she were trying to push her relationship with Harry in Hermione's face,
which didn't go unnoticed or accepted. Ron quickly made it known that Hermione was his best
mate too and that she was quite honestly the most important girl in their lives. Luna had even gone
out of her way to say, quite loudly and firmly that, “Hermione *is* Ron and Harry. If you want
the boys, you have to take her with them. There's no one or the other, it's all or
nothing.” She then smiled dreamily and snogged Ron in front of everyone quite heavily until Ron
half dragged her out of the bar and waved goodbye to his friends before apparating them away.

Instead of learning that Hermione was a permanent fixture, Julia became even more jealous of
her. Harry didn't break up with her immediately like he had with the others, instead waiting to
see what Hermione might do in response to his girlfriend. Since they had met, Hermione started
coming by Harry's house more often thinking that Julia would eventually get used to her place
in Harry's life. Julia began noticing just how often Harry and Hermione were together, which
only further infuriated her. She didn't like that Hermione stopped in to tidy up the kitchen
because Harry had quickly learned to be sloppy rather than clean things immediately, like the
Dursleys had always pressured him to. She especially disliked it when Harry asked Hermione to gauge
his cologne use or picked out his clothes for him. But the deal breaker had to be how affectionate
Harry was with Hermione. His prior four girlfriends had hardly seen just how close he and Hermione
were, but Julia had stuck around long enough to witness the intimate act the two hadn't even
known they were putting on.

Harry never quite noticed that he had a tendency to kiss Hermione's face, whether it was her
cheek, forehead, or the tip of her nose. He hadn't realized that his hand often slipped beneath
her hair to cradle the back of her neck, softly massaging it. It had become natural for him to wrap
his arms around her or whisper against her ear when she was close and they were surrounded by
people. Sometimes they didn't even speak, using facial expressions or simple looks to get
across their meaning. It hadn't occurred to him that laying his head in Hermione's lap or
having his hair played with by her was an odd thing for two friends to do. And it wasn't until
Julia finally gave up and began screaming at him while they were having a lunch out on the deck one
afternoon that Harry realized maybe he was a little more affectionate with Hermione than a best
friend would be. But he also knew that whatever it was he had with Julia just wasn't working.
He didn't even need Hermione's pursed lips or narrowed eyes to tell him that Julia was a
“nay stay” and after excusing himself from the table, he drew Julia inside to tell her that it just
wasn't working and he didn't think they should see each other again. She left him with a
stinging cheek, a ringing ear, and a deep scowl.

Oddly, Harry felt rather light after she was gone. It took him nine months of no dating and no
sights on potential girlfriends for Harry to finally figure it out. Every girl he had ever dated
had something in common with Hermione. Be it in their appearance or their personality, he was
basically searching for somebody just like her. On top of that, he had been looking for somebody
who would not only get along with Hermione, but meet her standards of what she saw fit for him. He
trusted her judgment and felt comforted in the fact that if Hermione approved, then perhaps
he'd finally found the girl to complete his future plans. The family, the wife and children,
the unconditional love. Unfortunately, nobody met Hermione's or his standards, and he finally
figured out why.

While Tracy had Hermione's hair, she didn't have the passionate nature that Harry always
felt matched Hermione and her thick, wild hair. And while Catarina had Hermione's mocha eyes,
she didn't have nearly the same knowledge or warmth behind them as Hermione did. Then, while
Emilia had a similar personality and quite reminded Harry of Hermione, she didn't fit all the
categories. She didn't have the same drive and ambition for something more complete than work
and books. She didn't see beyond her career to find the comfort and love a family could
provide, which was something Harry always found comforting about Hermione. How close she was to her
own family and how much she wanted one of her own was something Harry could relate to. Lisa, like
Hermione, had a confidence that made her extra attractive, but she was too concerned with being
well liked and seen for Harry's taste. He much preferred Hermione's lack of interest in
being famous or seen to Lisa's overwhelming need to have her picture taken at every turn. And
lastly, Julia had been friendly, outgoing, and enjoyed books much like Hermione, but lacked the
same comfort and ease that Hermione had. Julia was quick to jump to conclusions and question
things, while Hermione trusted Harry wholly and knew him far better than anybody else could.

After nine long months of deliberation Harry finally came to the conclusion that he had
*not* been looking for somebody like Hermione, or even somebody Hermione would approve of, but
Hermione herself. Not long after making the startling realization, Harry frantically analyzed his
best friends feelings in hopes of finding out whether she loved him back. He was not simply smitten
with her, nor did he think it was a passing fancy. He was quite completely, fifty-years-to-forever,
heart-in-his-throat, butterflies-in-his-stomach, in love with her. Fourteen years of friendship,
comradery, and unconditional love had made Harry into her other half. He was quite certain that
like she completed him, he completed her. She was the intelligent, level-headed, rule abiding, calm
half of him, while he was the brave, mildly irrational, moody, reckless half of her. She was the
emotion in his heart, the brilliance in his mind, the love in his soul, and he was more than
content to keep it that way. So he made a decision, one that could potentially disturb their well
constructed comfort zone of affectionate friendship. Harry wasn't sure he could go on just
being her friend when he quite obviously knew he was deeply in love with her. He wasn't sure
she knew what they had though, so he set out to show it to her.

*To be continued...*



2. Part Two: Happily Ever After
-------------------------------

**Disclaimer**: I do not own any rights to any of the television shows/books
I have written fanfiction for. I own only my creative thought process and the characters I make up
on a whim. Ownership of all else lies solely in the hands of others.

**Part Two: Happily Ever After**
 It was nearly dinner time when Hermione arrived via Floo. He could hear her in
the den, muttering per usual about the downside to the Floo system and gathered his nervous self to
go and retrieve her. Like in the past, he had told her that he was asking her over to meet his new
girlfriend, only this time he had stated that she was a “potential girlfriend.” Walking into the
den, he found her dressed in a pair of loose fitting jeans that still managed to show off her long
slim legs and curved around her arse in a flattering manner. She was wearing a light blue sweater
that clung to her curves comfortably without being an attention drawer though Harry couldn't
seem to stop his eyes from taking her all in. She had cut her hair a few months prior, explaining
that it was just too heavy around her head. It reached her chin after the cut, curls a little more
manageable and a lot softer looking. He missed running his hands through her hair though and told
her so, and couldn't help but feel a little bit of triumph when she didn't chop it back
down to her chin when it grew over the months, instead letting it rest longer against her neck.
Hermione's hair naturally grew quite quickly and he estimated it wouldn't be *too*
long before he he could run his fingers through her long, curly locks once more.

“Harry,” she said, sounding rather amused. “Are you going to stand there all night, or will you
be introducing me to this 'potential' Mrs. Potter any time soon?” she teased, smiling
lightly at him.

He found his attention brought up to her mouth, a beautiful curve of plump pink lips that made
him swallow thickly when her perfect white teeth peeked out to press into them enticingly. She was
within arms reach but she felt miles away, so unknowing of all that he was thinking, all that he
was wanting. What if his plan totally botched their friendship? What if all she saw in him was her
best mate Harry and not the potential husband he hopes she sees? He swallowed, his throat suddenly
dry and burning. He couldn't lose her, but he couldn't go on not having her wholly either.
“Uh, dinner first, then I'll introduce you,” he managed, feeling his hands shaking by his
sides.

Her brow furrowed in confusion and her head tipped an inch to the side. “But... I thought...
Won't she be here for dinner?” she asked, slipping her hands into the front pockets of her
pants.

*Yes, actually*, he thought, *but she won't know it*. “I thought just you and I
could have dinner. It's been awhile,” he told her, shrugging.

She smiled lightly, her eyes brightening as she looked up at him. For a moment he was lost. Her
eyes were a swirl of dark and light browns, so warm and intoxicating that he can't help but
wonder how he managed any real thought in the last fourteen years. The tiny freckles that pass over
the bridge of her nose, between those beautiful eyes caught his attention then and he couldn't
help but wonder how many were close enough to count the seventeen light brown spots that touch her
soft, pale skin. He knew from memory that there are five on one cheek, eight on the other, and four
on her nose. Her cute, pert, small nose that leads down to that perfect, rosy mouth of hers. He
shakes his head, trying to remind himself that all of his staring was likely to get him in trouble.
He can't help it though. It had been like this for months. He started really looking at her and
seeing what was there all along. The soft curves that his hands naturally wrapped around, the
feminine voice that washed over him like hot chocolate on a snowy day, the sweet laughter that
always made his chest swell. Before he knew it, he could hardly remember to breathe in her
presence, let alone speak.

“It has been awhile,” she admitted, shrugging. “If we exclude last Friday's lazy night or
Sunday brunch,” she teased.

Harry licked his lips, “Ron crashed lazy Friday and Sunday brunch was spent with your parents. I
meant just you and me,” he told her softly, and he wondered if she noticed just how much longing
seemed to reflect in his voice.

“Harry,” she said quietly, stepping closer to him and reaching out to cup his face. “Is
something wrong?”

“No,” he replied, shaking his head. “No, I'm hoping that after tonight things will be great.
Wonderful. Amazing. Better than ever,” he told her, his nervousness rising up inside him again.

She gave him a wane smile and a short nod. “So tell me about her then,” she said, her hand
slowly falling from his face.

Harry nodded, before moving to her side and settling a hand on the small of her back to walk her
out of the den. He had made them dinner, her favorite, and set it all up on the table in the
kitchen. A heating charm kept it ready and waiting, and he felt a swell of pride when he heard her
intake of breath, quickly forgetting all about Harry's mystery girl. He'd set the table up
with candles and pulled out his best dinner ware, reminded of when Hermione took him shopping for
dishes and cutlery galore. In fact, the majority of his house was fashioned by Hermione, which
furthered his comfort really. She helped him pick out colours for paint and furniture. Coordinating
everything in a very Hermione way. His house had a very homey and friendly atmosphere to it and
he'd never felt more like he belonged somewhere than the day he and Hermione had finished
putting his house together.

Everything reflected on him and his lifestyle. He had thick, dark couches that one could melt
into they were so comfortable. His carpets were crème and his walls were done in various colors to
match each furniture decor. His kitchen was large and spacey, leaving him lots of room while he was
cooking. And his bedroom, one of his favorite places, was large and spacious, with a huge four
poster bed that screamed lazy mornings and cuddling in the earlier rays of morning sunlight.
Hermione had helped pick out linens and furniture, pictures and knick knacks and before Harry knew
it he had a real home all to himself. Sometimes it was little overwhelming. He had a four bedroom,
two story house all to himself, but Hermione visited often and back when he had girlfriends they
spent a good amount of time over. Ron enjoyed popping in randomly, especially when he knew Harry
would be cooking, so he spent a hefty amount of time in the dining room. It was only when Hermione
was out of town working, Ron was busy with Luna, and Harry wasn't seeing anyone that he was
reminded of how empty and lonely his house could be. But he was aiming to change that, hoping that
Hermione would see just how clearly they were meant to be together.

Harry held her chair out for her and she slumped into it still looking rather shocked. Despite
that fact, she still managed to take the ring off of her napkin and place it daintily in her lap.
Harry's mouth curved up in a smile as he took his seat across from her and held out a bottle of
wine, pouring it into the tall clear glass in front of her. She watched the red liquid fill half of
it before motioning it was enough and then looked around at the tasty dinner he'd put together.
Hermione was a sucker for anything pasta, so Harry had put together chicken fettuccine, garlic
bread, and a Caesar salad. They didn't speak. He preferred it that way. He could watch her eat,
watch her savor each bite, witness the flutter of her eyes in ecstasy and her mouth wrap around the
lucky, blasted fork. His eyes were keen on the tip of her pink tongue when it exited her mouth to
lick her lips of the remnants of sauce and dressing. Somehow watching her eat was both innocent and
erotic and he quickly reminded himself that he had better ease back or he'd give away the grand
finale by kissing her senseless.

He finished eating before her, mostly because he needed to fill his mouth for fear of moaning or
saying something too early. He was able to sit back and watch her after that anyway, which is what
he had been wanting to do in the first place. When she put her fork down, Harry finally spoke,
“I've pinpointed the exact reason, or I guess I should say person, which caused the end of
every one of my break ups,” he told her, straight to the point.

Hermione lifted a brow inquisitively, her mouth pursed slightly. “Oh?”

“Yes,” he told her, nodding slowly. He took a long gulp of his wine and then sighed. “It's
you.”

“Me?” she said, her voice both incredulous and rather offended. “*I'm* the reason your
relationships haven't worked out, Harry? Is that what you're telling me?” she asked, now
sounding shocked.

“Precisely,” he told her simply, nodding.

“Well, I never...” She shook her head, her expression turning stony. “And how do you suppose I
managed that?” she asked, her voice rather annoyed.

“Your expressions,” he told her, his brow furrowing and his mouth frowning. “It was all in your
face, you see. The furrowed brow meant you didn't quite approve, but you weren't so much
against them. The wrinkled nose meant you really weren't sure about her, but you were willing
to give her another try. But the pursed mouth...” He shook his head, sighing slowly, “that one
meant she was a sure goner.”

“*What*?” she asked, her eyes thinning in confusion.

“I could always tell,” he told her, shaking his head. “It was always in your face whether you
thought they were good enough or if I should keep them. You probably weren't consciously doing
it and I obviously shouldn't have been basing my relationships off whether your wrinkled your
nose or not,” he admitted with a snort. “But I did. And your every thought and opinion of them was
written clearly in your face for only me to see.”

“So...” Hermione shook her head slowly, not quite sure if she was hearing him right. “You're
telling me that I caused the end of your relationships because I... pursed my lips?” she asked, her
mouth pursing.

“Yes,” he replied, nodding shortly.

Hermione clasped her hands together, her eyes thinning in thought. “Did it ever occur to you,
Harry, that you broke up with them not because I pursed my lips but because you were looking for a
reason to?” she asked him after a long moment of silence. “That it wasn't my opinion that
mattered really, but that I gave you a reason to finally end it.” She nodded, tapping her chin and
resting her elbows on the table top. “Yes, it makes complete sense. See, you needed an excuse, so
you used me. I'm your best friend, you trust my judgment, and so you used me as a sort of...
scapegoat,” she explained, her face losing its irritation to be replaced with new
understanding.

“Nope,” he replied easily, shaking his head. “I'm telling you, Ron and I discussed it. Right
before I ended things with Emilia that night you met her, Ron admitted what he'd noticed. I
watch you. Every time I introduce a girlfriend to you I watch for your reaction. I study your face,
the way you scrunch your nose and what that means, the way your eyes thin when you don't
appreciate a comment. And then, after reading your analysis of her, I decide whether or not I
believe I should keep them. In the end, if you've pursed your lips or made any indication that
they're wrong for me, I break up with them. Simple as that.” He shrugged, taking another drink
of his wine.

Hermione sat back, her arms falling to her sides while her eyes widened. “So, my face has single
handedly destroyed five relationships,” she said, her voice rather awed.

“Mm hmm,” he replied, nodding.

Hermione sighed, her brow furrowing and her mouth sticking out in a bit of a pout. “Well, I
suppose I'll have to be more careful then,” she decided.

“No,” Harry told her, shaking his head. “Because I've figured it out. I've finally found
the one girl that both you and I will quite obviously have to admit is perfect for me,” he told
her, nodding.

Hermione's eyes widened and then her mouth turned down. “Really, Harry, I hadn't even
known you were dating,” she said rather lowly.

“I'm not,” he told her, shaking his head. “But I've found the perfect woman, 'Mione.
She's incredibly brilliant, beautiful, fun to be with, and the best friend I could ask for.
You'll love her,” he told her, nodding with a sage smile. “It took me awhile to figure out. It
was one of those right-in-front-of-you-the-whole-time moments, right?” He smiled, his eyes falling
for a moment before he lifted them to look at her. “But this one's really it. I've never
quite felt this way before. I mean... It's like I've suddenly been shown a reality
that's more than just possible, it's meant to be. It's something I've always wanted
without actually acknowledging it. Not all of it anyway. I wanted the family, the wife and the
children and the perfection of being truly whole, but I never quite figured out who the woman was
beside me. And then it struck me. It was so completely obvious the entire time. I mean she was
right there, 'Mione. Staring right at me. And she was beautiful,” he said, his voice becoming
soft and whispery. “So incredibly beautiful. I had no idea. Not really. I don't think anybody
did. But she is, she really is. Her hair, her eyes, her sweet, lovely mouth. And it was like that
future I wanted suddenly became clear, I could see it in its completed form.” He smiled, his face
lighting up. Hermione was staring at him, her mouth shaking slightly and he wondered if she'd
figured it out. Harry rose from his chair, moving around the table to pull her out from the table.
He reached down, taking her delicate hand in his own and coaxing her from her seat.

“D-Does she know, Harry?” she asked, clearing her throat and looking from him to the floor.

“I'm not sure,” he replied honestly, wrapping his arm in hers and walking her out of the
kitchen. “I'm not even sure if she feels the same,” he admitted sheepishly. “I want her to. I
want her to look back at me with the same passion I know is reflected in my eyes. But... we've
known each other a long time. If it took me this long, it might take her awhile too, right?” he
asked, suddenly losing the confidence he'd had earlier.

She turned to him, a shaky smile on her mouth. “I'm sure whoever she is, Harry, she'll
love you back. You...” She shook her head. “And if they don't, then there's somebody else
out there. Remember that. There's somebody who will love you, all of you, and they won't
ever let you doubt it. You're so very special, Harry,” she told him, her voice shivering with
emotion.

Harry squeezed her arm. “Will you meet her, Hermione?” he asked, his voice serious and hopeful.
“Will you let me see whether she's *the one*? Whether she's who I'm supposed to
have forever?”

“I can't make that decision for you, Harry,” she told him, softly, reaching out to cup his
cheek. “That's up to you. I can't decide whether somebody is or isn't good enough for
you.” Her eyes fell and she sighed resignedly. “Truth is, I'm not sure I think anybody is
really good enough for you.”

Harry frowned, “Why's that?”

Hermione lifted her eyes to his, “You have no idea just how unbelievably wonderful you are, do
you? You don't know how smart or talented or loving you are, not really.” Hermione shook her
head, “If this woman doesn't love you, then she's a fool. Any woman would be the luckiest
alive to have you, Harry James, don't you doubt that.”

Harry swallowed thickly and couldn't reply. He nodded jerkily before beginning to walk
again. “I still want you to meet her and I want you to tell me honestly if you think she's
*it*.” Hermione opened her mouth to protest but Harry cut her off, “Just one last time,
Hermione. Please. And then I'll know. Once and for all if my future is what I think it is, what
I *hope* it is.” Hermione stared at him hesitantly but then nodded. Harry gave a quick smile
before he reached out and pressed his fingers tips to the tops of her eyelashes, “Close your eyes
for me,” he whispered. Hermione complied, her mocha eyes falling shut before him.

Harry walked her down the hall and then up the stairs, bringing her to his bedroom and walking
across it to settle in the place he needed her to be. “She's very special to me, 'Mione.
The most special woman in my life. She knows it. Everybody knows it. There's no questioning it,
really. I think, over the years, it was simply leading up to this. This one moment where clarity
rather beat me over the head like a Quaffle,” he said, chuckling lightly. “She's been there
through a lot of tough times, moments where things just didn't feel worth going on.” The room
automatically lit up with faint candles when they walked through, surrounding them in a romantic
and soft light. Her hair glinted softly, making it appear soft and almost untouchable. Shadows fell
across her face, enhancing the curve of her cheeks and the dark brush of her lashes against her
pale skin. She was exquisite.

Harry reached out, his hands settling on her shoulders, which quaked lightly beneath his palms.
Her hair brushed against his skin, soft and smelling of vanilla. He massaged her shoulders, his
fingers tingling as they slowly moved toward the curve of her throat, his mouth begging to lean in
and taste her creamy skin. “I've always loved her, but I only recently realized how very much
*in love* with her I am,” he whispered against her ear. “I don't just want her to love me,
Hermione, I need her to.” Turning his hand up, Harry lightly grazed the line of Hermione's jaw
with the pad of his thumb, trailing it down to her chin. “See, I'm quite sure that my future
will only be complete with her. That she is simply the one women who could love me unconditionally
the way I've been seeking for so long. She's the only one who I could have children with,
raising them to love life and live it to the fullest, while still, of course, following certain
rules. She's the only one I see myself living with and loving until my dying day, 'Mione,”
he breathed against the side of her throat.

“I need you to tell me if that's going to happen. I need you to look at her, like you have
every other girlfriend of mine you've met, and I need you to tell me with that beautiful face
of yours whether she's *it*.” He inhaled deeply, letting it out slowly, feeling quite
nervous and uncertain. “I'll understand if she's not. I'll still love her, still be by
her every day of her life. I'll support her decisions and accept whoever it is she chooses to
love instead of me. But, for right now, for this one moment, I need you to look at her objectively
and tell me in all honesty if she loves me too.” Harry's hand slipped down from Hermione's
chin to splay out over her skin, palm against her heart, feeling it beat furiously. “Open your
eyes,” he told her.

Hermione's teeth bit deeply into her lip and she shivered back against him. Her eyes slowly
fluttered open only to widen in shock. In front of her stood a full length mirror and Hermione
could clearly see only her and Harry. Harry stood behind her, an arm wrapped loosely around her
waist while his chin was cradled on her shoulder, face pressed against hers. He stared at the
mirror too, looking into her eyes with an obvious sense of uncertainty and fear. Hermione had been
expecting some spectacular beauty, somebody she hadn't met before. Somebody who was
exceptionally intelligent, easily surpassing her, with a great figure and an obvious equality to
Harry. But she found only herself staring back. Mildly boring, quite honestly not the most
ravishing, Hermione Granger. What did she have that enticed him so? she wondered. She wasn't
anything special. She didn't have the beauty so many of his exes had, she didn't possess
the career mindedness that Emilia had. She was plain, rather boring in her quest for more
knowledge, and she nagged far too often. He must be mental, she decided. He'd obviously been
working too hard. Maybe he wasn't getting enough sleep. Had he been eating properly? Perhaps he
was just upset about the lack of dating he'd been doing, so he gave up and went for the closest
woman to him.

She chastised herself for being so utterly pitying. There was nothing wrong with her. She
wasn't hideous or downright stupid. She was smart and she liked to think she was pretty enough.
But she wasn't sure she was quite good enough for Harry. She had known him since she was
eleven. Knew what he was capable of and quite honestly understood him better than anybody ever
could. She had fourteen years of Harry, and nobody but Ron could say he had seen their best friend
in the situations she had. It was true that he relied on her quite a bit, too. She cleaned up after
him every once in awhile, reminded of how often he was forced into cleaning up after the Dursleys.
She cooked dinner for him a few nights of the week and she went out of her way to keep her
friendship with him strong and thriving. It wasn't long after graduation and Voldemorts defeat
that Hermione began inviting Harry along to Sunday brunch and before long he was a regular. Then
Friday's became their official Hermione and Harry day, enjoying pizza and junk food while
watching action and comedy movies, every once in a while sneaking in a romance, but never anything
gory and horrific, they'd had enough of that. Their friendship had thrived, becoming much more
for her and before she knew it, Harry was the completion of Hermione Granger. She'd never said
anything, believing that he was quite happy with just a friendship with her and enjoyed other women
in the position Hermione so often wanted to be in.

Harry watched her face, examining the way her eyes flickered with confusion and her teeth bit
into her lip in disbelief. He could clearly see her doubt and hesitation and then her outright
suspicion at why he would want her. It hurt to think that she could possibly contemplate why he
liked her as if it were an impossibility. Did that mean that it was impossible for *her* to
think of him in a way other than platonic? His stomach tightened at the thought and he considered
pulling back, but then he saw the warmth fill her eyes and a small smile appear on her face and he
wondered if maybe... just maybe...

“How certain are you that she's the one, Harry?” she asked quietly, her voice soft and
hesitant.

He smiled shakily, hopeful. “Completely certain,” he replied breathily.

“And if it doesn't work out, what then?” she wondered, lifting a dark brow.

His mouth curled in a smile. “I don't believe that's a possibility,” he told her,
shaking his head.

Her mouth appeared stuck between a frown and a smile. “Why's that?” she queried softly.

He smiled, his heart becoming a little more light. He licked his lips, readying himself. “I have
a best friend, see, and she's never wrong,” he told her. “If she says it'll work then... it
will.” He shrugged, his arm tightening around her waist. “And if for some reason the whole world
turns inside out and she's wrong, then... I'll always love her. I'll always be her best
friend,” he told her, his eyes falling shut for a moment. “I'll *never* let her go.”

She softened against him, as if she were melting against his arms, his heart, and freeing his
hope to meet her soul. “She doesn't want you to,” Hermione replied softly, causing Harry's
eyes to open.

He let out a shaky breath, hesitant to believe what he wanted to happen actually was. “Never?”
he asked, lifting a brow.

Hermione shook her head, smiling, “Never.”

Harry grinned slowly, “D'you think I should kiss her then?” he wondered rather cheekily.

She licked her smiling lips. “Definitely,” Hermione replied, nodding shortly with a no-nonsense
expression thinly veiling her anticipation.

Harry leaned in, his arm turning her slowly so she was pressed up against him, her back arched
and her mouth mere centimeters from his. “Does she love me?” he asked, his voice shaky and rather
uncertain about the reply he'd receive.

“Unequivocally,” she replied, her eyes gleaming.

“Big word,” Harry teased, his smile twitching.

Hermione chortled, “She loves you.” Her hand reached up, cupping Harry's cheek. “*I*
love you,” she told him, her mouth brushing against his as she said it.

Harry let out a shaky sigh of content. Pressing closer, he slid his lips over hers, soft and
sweet. His tongue peeked out to taste her, laving at red wine and a very faint hint of strawberry
lip balm. He felt her fingers creep up into his hair, tangling in the unkempt raven locks and
tickling his skin. He melted against her, loving the feel of her every curve pressed against his.
Her lips parted, letting his tongue into explore and taste, needing to lap every flavor of her up.
Her tongue teased his lips and tangled with his, soft and warm. The kiss was gentle but heated,
coursing through him so quickly and so completely that he wasn't certain he wanted to return to
a time where he wasn't kissing her. One of Harry's hand wrapped around the back of her
neck, her hair swished against his skin, satin soft and sweet smelling. His other hand was curved
against the small of her back, pulling her closer, trying to melt into her, wanting all of her
against him, needing to feel every part of her to remind him just how real she was. They broke
apart in need of air, their mouths still close, their eyes burning into each other, their bodies
molded to one another.

“So, what did your best friend think of me?” she wondered, lifting a brow as she tried to
control her panting.

“I believe she thinks you're a keeper,” he told her, his mouth curving into a grin.

“Yeah? How can you be sure?” she asked, nudging his nose with hers.

“I can read her like a book,” he replied, nodding slowly.

“Oh, what is she saying right now?” she asked, a devilish gleam in her warm mocha eyes.

“She's telling me that she's in desperate need of a kiss,” he replied, smirking as he
licked his lips.

“I don't know how I feel about that,” she replied, mockingly pursing her lips.

“Don't worry,” he whispered, “I think I can balance both of you.”

Hermione snorted, rolling her eyes before laughingly kissing him. Her arms slipped around his
neck, holding him close to her. “As long as I take top priority,” she told him breathlessly as he
trailed down her neck, his mouth lavishing her skin with sweet memories of love and promises.

“Always,” he told her, rising up to meet her mouth again. He lifted his brow, “But, which one
are you again?” he teased.

“I'm the one you see yourself with in fifty years,” she told him, her voice softening.

“The mother of my little girl with her messy hair and my green eyes,” he replied, tipping his
chin to kiss the tip of her nose.

Hermione smiled, her eyes filling, “We've wasted a lot of time,” she told him, shaking her
head. “If you can read me so well, you should have figured out I loved you ages ago.”

Harry grinned, shrugging his shoulders, “I don't care how long we've wasted, I've
got you now.”

“Are you going to keep me then?” she asked, her eyes brightening with amusement.

“Forever,” he told her, seriously. “I don't plan on giving you up.”

Hermione pressed a short kiss against his lips. “Good. Because I wasn't going to let you
anyway.” She ran her hand over his cheek, her finger tips playing with his hair.

Harry could always read her, like a story being plainly written for only his eyes to capture.
There was something about him and Hermione that made perfect sense, that felt as if it were
destined to happen. The world was finicky, his future was always uncertain, but he knew, whether he
and Hermione were dating, married or simply friends, she would be there next to him. He was content
just to hold her, to have her in his life. He was done reading her face for the approval of a
girlfriend, now he'd read it just to know she was his and he was hers. She was happy, he could
tell by the way her eyes were half lidded and her mouth was relaxed in a soft smile. She was in
love, he could feel it in her hands, the way they lightly touched him, as if afraid he'd
disappear from beneath her fingers. She was content, he could tell by the way her body pressed into
his, all soft curves and passionate embraces. She was his, he could see it in her eyes and feel it
in how her mouth fit against his like a long lost puzzle piece. Yes, he could always read her.

**End**