Author's Note: Sorry no update yesterday, I wasn't prepared for the onslaught of a new work week. Here's the last chapter, and I do hope you enjoy it! You'll find plenty more notes at the end, but for now: FIC TIME! :D
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CHAPTER SIX
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Behind all this, some great happiness is hiding.
-Yehuda Amichai
*
Harry stood in front of his bathroom mirror, shaving. From the direction of the kitchen he could hear the bangings of pots and pans, and a child laughing: Hermione and Dotty, cooking breakfast. These noises had already become typical of his Saturday mornings.
Last night he and Hermione had stayed up well past two, brainstorming a way to tell Dotty the truth about him. It was very tricky operation: they had to be honest, but couldn't risk overwhelming her, or expecting her to understand that which was beyond her. Dotty couldn't feel pressured to feel a certain way about Harry right off the bat, but she had to know it was okay to call him "Daddy" if she wanted to. A difficult balance to strike, especially with a child so young.
After an hour or so and a few more glasses of wine, neither had come up with any bright ideas. So they agreed to table it until the moment felt right or until one of them had a brainwave. Then, somehow - sprawled on the couch, still dressed in their dinner clothes and gazing into the merrily-crackling fire - they'd begun talking about everything and nothing at all.
Harry felt as if time had reversed itself. It was just like being back in the Gryffindor common room, he thought, almost eerily so - and yet it was different. Because after a while he noticed that whenever Hermione would tilt her head back, laughing at something he said, the firelight hitting her just so….
Well, words failed him.
Harry had quite enough on his plate without worrying about these odd feelings that kept popping up when he was near Hermione - but they were getting harder to ignore as time went on. Oh well, he thought. He'd deal with it on the fly, just like everything else. And probably, knowing himself, muck it up royally.
The indistinct sound of voices in the kitchen suddenly grew clearer. "Now can I get Harry?" Dotty was asking impatiently.
"Yes, sweetie. Go tell him that breakfast is ready."
The sound of running feet, then Dotty was crashing through the bathroom door, bursting with excitement. "Harry!" she shrieked. "Breakfast tiiiiime!"
He laughed. "I'll be finished in a second, Dot."
"What's that on your face?" she asked him, looking puzzled. Harry realized she must not have seen a man shaving before.
"It's shaving cream," he told her.
Dot pointed to the razor. "What's that?"
"It cuts the hair on my chin, so I don't grow a big beard like Father Christmas." He brushed his finger under her chin, tickling her, and she giggled. "But it's very sharp, so don't touch it."
"Can I watch?" she asked.
He smiled. "Yeah, sure."
Dot climbed up onto the counter next to the sink. She held onto his arm to steady herself as she stood facing the mirror, looking in at their reflections.
Harry's mouth fell open a little when he saw them in the mirror together. Dotty's hair and features were quite similar to Hermione's, but the expression on her face - watchful, calmly inquisitive - was all him. Not to mention her eyes, which were downright arresting when viewed next to his: a brilliant emerald framed by long, dark lashes, just like his own.
"Your eyes look like mine," Dotty said suddenly, as if reading his thoughts.
Harry was surprised to find himself a bit choked up. He wiped away the last of the shaving cream with a washcloth. "Yeah," he said softly. "They do."
Dotty looked thoughtful. "Nobody else has eyes like mine," she said.
"So this is where you got off to," said Hermione, appearing in the bathroom doorway. She walked in, and her reflection joined theirs in the mirror. "Dotty, I thought you were going to fetch Harry for breakfast. Harry," she added in a lower voice, grinning, "what have I told you about not wearing a shirt?"
Still dumbstruck by the sight in the mirror, Harry said nothing.
Then it happened. "Are you my daddy?" Dot asked.
A panicked silence fell. Harry's eyes darted to Hermione's in the mirror; her face had gone slack with surprise.
No one said anything for a good ten seconds. Finally Hermione opened her mouth - but Harry spoke first.
"Yes," he said. "I am." Standing on the counter, her face was level with his, and he looked right into her eyes. "I'm your father, Dotty."
Dot's eyes went wide, her mouth making a little `O' of astonishment - then she leapt onto Harry, her arms wrapping around his neck, and hugged him fiercely.
Harry's relief was staggeringly deep. She was happy, thank God. He dropped the washcloth and hugged her back, holding her little body tight.
"I have a daddy!" she yelled. "And his name is Harry!"
Harry laughed, a bright, happy sound. "I have a little girl," he whispered to her. "And her name is Dotty."
Dotty leaned back and touched his face with her hand. "How long have you been my daddy?" she asked him very seriously.
"Your whole life, Dotty. But I didn't find out for a long time, just like you."
"Did Mummy tell you?"
Harry gave a start - he'd been so caught up in his moment with Dot, he'd nearly forgotten Hermione was standing right beside them.
He glanced over at her swiftly. Hermione's eyes were full of tears, but upon closer examination they looked to be of the deliriously happy variety. He relaxed considerably.
"Yes," he said. "Your mummy told me."
Dotty reached an arm out to her mother. Hermione stepped forward and joined their hug, shaking with her silent tears. Harry bowed his head, still clasping Dot in his arms and wondering if it was possible to die from happiness and relief.
Both Harry and Hermione could have stayed like that forever. So it was Dot who eventually pulled back from the embrace, and declared, in a completely normal voice, "Mummy! Daddy! Breakfast tiiiiime!"
*
"So you told her?" Ron demanded, goggling at them across the kitchen table at the Burrow.
"Yeah," said Harry. He'd been smiling for twenty four hours straight and it didn't feel like he would ever stop.
"And how'd she take it?" Ginny asked.
"Remarkably well," said Hermione. "She adores Harry, she really does. And I think she suspected it all along. After we moved into the flat, she stopped asking me who her daddy was."
Ron laughed. "Ruddy smart, that one." Harry nodded proudly.
Dotty came dashing into the kitchen at that very moment. She had an armful of sweets in colorful wrappers. "Uncle Ron!" she shouted. "Try a piece of candy!"
Ron narrowed his eyes in suspicion. "Where did you get it from?"
Dotty shrugged innocently. "Not telling," she said.
"Around here," Ron told her, "you don't put food of any sort in your mouth without knowing where it came from first."
At this, Fred and George walked in, shaking their heads in disappointment. They had clearly been listening at the door. "We thought it was a foolproof plan," said George.
Fred kneeled down to take the candy back from Dot. She handed it back, but asked, "Can I have a piece?"
"That depends," George said. "Do you want your ears to turn blue and grow rabbit fur all over them?"
Dotty thought about this for a moment. "Sure!" she said.
George laughed. Harry reached out, picked Dotty up, and set her on his knee.
"I want you to listen to me very carefully, Dot," he said.
She looked at him, nodding intently.
"If Fred and George ever offer you any candy," he said, "you come and tell Daddy about it, and he'll hex them into next Tuesday."
"Okay!" she said brightly. She turned to Fred and George, and stuck her tongue out. "My daddy's gonna hex you!"
"We'll just see about that," Fred grumbled. "Harry, Charlie's just arrived. You said you'd play seeker next time he was here, remember?"
"That I did." Harry put Dotty down and stood up. "Why don't you ask Uncle Ron to read you a few books, sweetie? I bet he's just dying to."
Dotty started toward Ron, a predatory gleam in her eye. "Uh, sounds great!" he said quickly, and they went into the library together.
That left Hermione alone with Ginny, who was looking down at the table with a guarded expression. Hermione had been both hoping for and fearing this moment. She wracked her brain to think of something to say that would break the strained silence when suddenly Ginny spoke:
"We had a weird moment at dinner last night, didn't we?"
Hermione was relieved. At least now it was out in the open. "Rather," she agreed.
"I'm sorry you caught me watching you." Ginny chuckled humorlessly. "I must have looked downright pitiful."
"You didn't look pitiful, Ginny." Hermione squeezed her hand. "Just tell me what's on your mind."
"Whew, that's a tall order. Okay." Ginny folded her arms on the table, gazing at some spot over Hermione's shoulder, as she began to speak in a low voice. "You already know how I felt about Harry - remember that conversation when you were still pregnant with Dot, when you admitted you had certain feelings for him? I know you felt guilty saying it out loud, as if he still belonged to me.
"Well," Ginny said, "he didn't. I know that now."
Hermione looked at her curiously.
"When Harry broke up with me after Dumbledore's funeral, I understood his reasons perfectly. I even respected them. And I wouldn't have dreamed of taking up with another boy in the meantime - I just assumed that once the war was over, if we both made it through in one piece that is, there'd be some grand shiny reunion chock full of snogging and happiness.
"But instead," Ginny concluded flatly, "he slept with you and then took off for three years. My heart was pretty well broken."
Hermione winced, feeling a stab of guilt. But Ginny didn't seem to notice.
"I should have known better," she continued quietly, "I should have realized he didn't feel the same way, couldn't feel the same way. Like I said, I understand why he broke up with me - but if it had been you he was dating…well, things would have been completely different.
"You would have stayed together, Hermione. Not because Harry didn't want to protect you - he'd have tried to break it off with you just like he did with me - but because you wouldn't've let him. And he would have loved you enough, and respected you enough, to keep you by his side no matter what.
"You're a brilliant witch, Hermione, but you're no more gifted at battle magic than I. And yet you were there with him until the very end. Perhaps he did want me at one point, but he needed you." Ginny said this with no trace of resentment, only a touch of sadness. "And he still does.
"Hermione, think about everything that's stood between you all this time. First the whole `we're only friends' bit, then the prophecy and the war, then Harry taking off for three years. And most of all," Ginny added, staring down at her hands, "me and Ron. There were too many other places to look - that's why you haven't seen what's right in front of your face. But I've seen it, and it's undeniable. You have to trust me, Hermione, it's there. It's what I saw last night at dinner."
Hermione's breath had caught. Hope, that pesky feeling, was surging forward in her chest again, dawning like the sun. "What do you see, exactly?"
"I see the way you interact. The way he looks at you when he doesn't think anybody's watching. I see how sorry he is for having left you. He didn't know then what he was leaving behind; now he does.
"And you, Hermione. You haven't so much as looked at a man in four years. You can't tell me it's because of Dotty; you're young and pretty, and plenty of single mothers with young children find ways to date."
Hermione didn't know what to say. She just sat there, staring at Ginny, who was looking down fixedly down at her hands.
"I won't lie, Hermione, I'm not entirely over it. But I'm well on my way. I've even started seeing someone." Here Ginny's lips quirked in a small, private smile, and Hermione was instantly curious. "You just worry about yourself, and your family."
Ginny stood, and walked to the front door. Hermione could see shadows of boys on broomsticks drifting over the front lawn, could hear their voices and laughter.
"Speaking of that," Ginny said sincerely, "congratulations. I'm so glad Dotty has a father now."
And she walked outside to join the Quidditch game.
Hermione sighed deeply, dropping her head onto her folded arms in the silence of the kitchen. She wanted so much to believe that every bit of what Ginny had said was true. But years of dead ends and broken dreams had taught her to expect the worst, and to prepare for the worst. Ginny has her own perspective, she thought to herself, and it's biased.
But if nothing else, Hermione was finally prepared to admit the truth: she loved Harry. She loved him so much that it hurt. She loved his smile and his beautiful, serious eyes. She loved the littlest details, like his posture and the way he held his fork when he ate. She loved him for his soul, which had withstood so much yet still remained so pure.
But most of all she loved him for his heart: good, and strong, and infinite in its capacity for caring.
Sitting there alone, face pinched with conflicting emotions, Hermione could only close her eyes and pray that Ginny was right after all.
*
Though they lived in the same flat, Hermione and Harry proceeded to go nearly a week without seeing each other at all.
Taking the opportunity to work more hours at St. Mungo's was a no-brainer for Hermione: since Harry could now pick Dotty up any day of the week, she worked three eighteen-hour days in a row, returning home each night after Harry and Dot had gone to bed.
After that, Harry spent four days and three nights away on the "super mysterious unplottable island," as Hermione had taken to calling it, for his official initiation rites. They could keep in touch with the invisible owls while he was gone, so she sent him daily updates on Dotty, and he sent back notes with some vague details about the initiation process. They were short, but she knew he was telling her as much as he could. Just seeing his handwriting on paper again after three years made Hermione smile.
She missed him terribly.
For it seemed that ever since she'd finally admitted to herself the depth of her feelings for Harry, they were confronting her in every corner of her mind. When she went to the supermarket with Dot, she wondered what she could buy that Harry might like. When she dressed in the morning, she wondered if Harry would like what she'd picked out. When she listened to the Wireless, all the lyrics of every song reminded her of Harry.
All in all, she'd turned into every single mushy love cliche she'd always found abhorrent.
Harry apparated home late on Saturday evening as planned, having missed Dotty, who was having a sleepover that night with Bill and Fleur's children, by several hours. He appeared in the living room with a small pop, and Hermione, who'd been reading a healing text on the sofa, looked up with a gasp.
"Oh, Harry," she laughed. "You startled me."
She stood up and walked over to him as he shed his cloak, feeling a deep sense of happiness at his return. It wasn't that she'd feared Harry wouldn't come back; she knew he would. But all the same it was a deep relief to see him again.
Harry seemed to be acting rather bizarrely, she realized as she drew closer. He'd dropped his cloak and traveling bag limply onto the floor and was standing there, arms at his sides, giving her a very odd look indeed. The line between his eyes hinted at some hidden tension.
"Harry, are you all right?" she asked him anxiously, taking a step closer.
Harry just stared at her. And stared. And then, as she stood right in front of him, barely two feet away, his eyes dropped to her lips. The world turned to slow motion - Hermione knew what was about to happen but her brain refused to believe it - as his thumb traced down her neck, a touch so gentle she thought she might be imagining it.
"I missed you," he whispered, with a breathy laugh. "I missed you so much, and I was only gone for three days…."
He leaned down, still giving her that heartstopping look, and Hermione realized she should be shutting her eyes right now but there was no way she was going to miss seeing this. His head found the perfect angle and then he was kissing her, kissing her with every ounce of him, and it wasn't five seconds before Hermione's knees turned to butter beneath her.
*
Harry felt her begin to fall, and caught her securely within the circle of his embrace. He was glad of it. Touching her, tasting her, was a shock to his system that he couldn't get enough of and the closer he held her, the easier it was.
Harry wasn't quite sure what had happened, exactly. All he knew was that he'd apparated into the living room to see her sitting there, somehow looking insanely gorgeous in just jeans and a tank top, and realized, with a feeling like he'd been hit in the back of the head with a bludger, how much he'd missed her.
So much, apparently, that he'd completely lost his head and started kissing her senseless. But, wonder of wonders, she was kissing him back, and he wasn't going to question it.
Time lost all meaning as they stood there in the living room, clutching each other as if they were drowning. Hermione's mouth opened under his and he gasped with arousal, cradling the back of her head with his hand. Her hair was ridiculously soft and she smelled like heaven and suddenly there was no longer any time to think about anything because she was pulling his shirt over his head.
"Hermione?" he gasped.
She pulled back away from, and the look on her face shut him up so effectively it could have been a Silencing Charm. You really want to talk right now? she seemed to be asking him.
The answer, of course, was a resounding no.
Harry's mouth dove for hers again. The pause had been just long enough for her to remove her tank top, and when he felt her smooth skin against his he thought he might die. He had her against the arm of the couch now, and their bodies pressed together fully - she made a gasping, moaning sort of noise as his erection brushed against her.
"Bedroom," she muttered against his lips - then there was a loud crack! and she blinked as she saw they were standing next to his bed.
"Must have apparated by accident," Harry mumbled. His lips were against her collarbone now, utterly engrossed in their task.
Hermione laughed, a giddy, tinkling sound. "I guess you were a bit eager."
She felt his smile against her skin. "Guess so."
Then Hermione's jeans were on the floor, and Harry's joined them, and they were most definitely done talking. He picked her up and tossed her onto the bed. She released her hair from the clip that held it in place, throwing it aside, and her brown curls spilled onto the deep red comforter.
The only other time they'd done this, Harry realized, he hadn't taken the time to really look at Hermione. Seeing her now was breathtaking. She was naked except for her knickers, a black scrap of fabric so tiny it barely deserved the name, and every inch of her was beautiful. His hands itched to touch her - not to mention other parts of him too.
In an instant he'd climbed onto the bed beside her, and his hands were sliding over her proud, firm breasts, his ears hearing the sweet music of her moan. His world was reduced to a series of sensations: the velvety texture of her skin; her keening cry as he bit her gently on the neck; the dampness of her knickers as he slid them down her legs; the wet heat of her sex that called to him like nothing else ever had.
He finally slid inside her, feeling her body tense with pleasure beneath him, and nothing in the world had ever seemed so right.
*
The Next Morning…
Harry woke with a start, eyes shooting open.
His first thought was that Hermione wasn't lying next to him as she ought to have been. There was a slight indentation in the mattress where her body had lain, and her scent faintly lingered, but other than that she was nowhere to be seen.
He slipped out of bed and pulled on his jeans from the night before. "Accio t-shirt," he mumbled, then pulled that on too and went to brush his teeth.
He peeked into the bedroom she shared with Dotty, thinking she might have gone off to sleep along at some point, but it was empty. So too were the kitchen and the living room. Where can she have gotten to, Harry wondered, at six thirty in the morning?
*
Hermione returned from the supermarket with a million thoughts flying through her head. She knew it was ridiculously early to have left the flat, but she hadn't been able to sleep. Wandering about the lonely rooms while Harry slept soundly had seemed impossible, and Dotty wouldn't be home for another three hours at least.
Hermione rounded the corner, and felt a pang of surprise: Harry was sitting outside on the steps of their building. He had his chin in his hands, apparently waiting for her to return. He looked rumpled but adorable in his clothes from the night before.
She wasn't sure if it was because he'd waited for her, or just a reaction to the simple sight of him, but Hermione felt a rush of warmth in her chest. Then, just as abruptly, anxiety gripped her. He did look rather pensive - maybe he was about to tell her last night had been a colossal mistake. Or maybe he would slide an arm around her and kiss her and ask her what was for breakfast, and all would be well.
Either way, she thought, bracing herself, I'll find out in a moment.
"Harry!" she called, taking care not to let her voice shake.
Harry looked up, saw her, and stood. "Walk with me?" he asked her as she drew nearer, tilting his head in the opposite direction.
"Okay," Hermione agreed, worrying her lower lip. It wasn't a hug and it kiss, but it wasn't the grimace of someone bearing bad news either. She didn't know what to think.
"You weren't there when I woke up," said Harry quietly. "Where did you go?"
"The supermarket." Then she realized he was looking at her empty hands. "I didn't buy anything, I just wanted to walk for a bit."
"I see."
They began climbing the slight hill that led away from Diagon Alley, in the direction of more residences. An uneasy silence had fallen between them.
"Are you angry at me?" Harry asked her finally.
"Angry?" Bewildered, Hermione shook her head. "Not at all."
"Because I thought…since you left…." Harry broke off, and said with a self-deprecating smile, "I know I'm not one to talk about leaving. But you don't usually get up this early, Hermione. Is something wrong?"
"No, nothing's wrong," she said slowly.
He seemed to steel himself, then blurted out the question: "Are you-are you sorry about what happened last night?"
She looked up at him quickly. "No, Harry, of course not. I'm not sorry at all, but-"
Hermione broke off, pressing her lips together - and then all at once she was talking, her worst fears spilling out of her mouth in a rushing torrent of words.
"-but I need to know something, Harry, or else I think I'll go mad. I need you to be totally honest with me. Last night…it wasn't because you felt sorry for me, was it? You didn't feel some obligation to act all romantic just because you got me pregnant and then stormed away for three solid years of Me Time, did you? That wasn't why you kissed me, was it? Tell me it wasn't."
Harry blinked, processing all she'd said - then, to her great surprise, grinned. "`Me Time?'" he repeated.
Hermione fought an answering smile. "You know what I mean," she said softly.
Harry was silent for a moment. Absently, he swung his foot and kicked a pebble. It bounced ahead of them, skipping on the concrete, as he finally turned to face her.
"I'm in love with you, Hermione," he said.
Hermione's mouth dropped open. Without realizing it, she stopped walking.
"I have been for a long time," he went on, coming to a stop as well and staring down at his shoes, a look of grim determination on his face. "It sounds a bit stupid to stay that I have been forever, that I just didn't know it, but…I have been forever, I just didn't know it.
"We have a daughter together, Hermione. Even if you and I aren't involved romantically, we'll still be a family forever. But that would kill me, because I'm in love with you and all I want is to be near you all the time. I want to raise our daughter together, yes, but more than that I just want you. I need you," he corrected himself, finally looking up and meeting her eyes.
"Oh, Harry," Hermione said, in a voice rough with tears. "You don't know - you can't know - how long I've wanted to hear you say that - how I've hated myself for wanting it but gone on wanting it all the same-"
Harry's eyes went wide. Then he seized her by the shoulders, right there in the middle of the street, and kissed her, hard. Long seconds passed - then something occurred to Hermione, and she pulled back.
"But I haven't gotten to say it yet!" she protested, ignoring the tingling of her lips.
Harry grinned, knowing exactly what she meant, but he played dumb. "You haven't gotten to say what?"
"Say that I'm in love with you. I'm completely, utterly in love with you." Hermione slid her fingers through his black hair, messy as always, and watched as his face spread into an impossibly wide smile. He leaned down and touched his forehead to hers. "Thank you for coming home to me, Harry," she whispered.
"Thanks for letting me come home," he whispered back.
Their lips met again. Harry's fingers, chilly from the cold, traced down her cheek and she shivered.
"Dotty won't be home for another few hours," she murmured to him.
Harry arched an eyebrow, grinning. "Are you suggesting what I think you're suggesting?"
Hermione winked at him. "Why don't you apparate me into your bedroom again and find out?"
The sound of their mingled laugher rang through the quiet neighborhood. Harry swung her up into his arms - and then, with a crack, they disapparated.
*
End.
*
Well, I though I'd have lots of notes, but writing this last chapter seems to have left me a little drained and so I'll just inform you all that the epilogue will be posted very soon; if not tomorrow than certainly the day after. You'll find more details about the planned sequel at that time.
I can tell you now that it's certain to be more of an action/adventure sort of story, set at some point in the future. Maybe a month, maybe six months, maybe two years…who knows? You could drop a line and let me know what you'd most like to see, if you so chose. Help get the ol' idea machine up and running!
Thank you all for following me through this rather surprising journey. I had a whim to write Harry/Hermione again, so I picked up the pen - so to speak - and this is what came out of me. I do hope you enjoyed it. H/Hr was my first ship ever and it will always stay my favorite.
To all who have reviewed and to who all who plan to review, thank you so much. I love every single piece of feedback I get.
<3
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