Disclaimer: This fic is clearly AU now, so do I need to say again that I'm not JKR-and don't even want to be right now?
Author's Note: The happy H/Hr ending, as promised. This Epilogue should make it very obvious that I wrote this before DH came out. Thank you, all, for reading and reviewing!
The Flaw in the Plan
Epilogue: Happiness, At last
The months that followed were, at once, the hardest and the happiest of Harry's life.
Hardest because of his divorce and all the pain that accompanied it, of having to sever ties which had bound him, not just to Ginny, but to the other Weasleys, the first family he'd ever really had. He had to endure several excruciating moments when Ginny begged him-even tried to seduce him once-to return, to "get over it" and then he had to face the tears and the recriminations when he didn't, couldn't, give in.
He had moved out and into Grimmauld Place where he hadn't lived since just after the war had ended and he had never liked the house, haunted as it was by memories of Sirius and of Ron.
Hardest, too, because of all the publicity, the scandal of it. In recent months, the press had somewhat tired of him, since he hadn't done much and his personal life was so uninteresting (to the media) since he'd married Ginny. But news of divorce had sparked it all up again and again, he was hounded by reporters everywhere he went, again he could never open a paper without seeing some story about him, as usual mostly false. And while he had gotten better at shrugging it off, the stories were still painful, still rubbed salt in wounds which hadn't healed, exacerbated guilt.
And they were hard, too, because of the need to hide, to carefully limit the time he spent with Hermione in public and be careful never to act as anything other than a friend. And that was difficult, too. He didn't know how to be completely platonic with Hermione anymore, not now when he could hardly look at her without wanting her, not now when he knew what it felt like to kiss her, to touch her, to feel her wet warmth around him… Not now when he knew the passion of her… But he had to.
He would not-he could not-pull Hermione into the scandal of it. He would not subject her to the press and the invasion of privacy and the inevitable accusations of her being a home-wrecker, a woman who'd stolen another woman's husband. He remembered, all too well, the hate mail and more harmful letters sent to Hermione after Rita Skeeter's nonsensical stories were printed about her in their 4th year-and this would be worse.
He wouldn't-couldn't-do that to her. So he had to hide his feelings, had to relentlessly be only her old friend in public. (And he had to stop even the normal, smaller touches of his hand on her arm or her back because he didn't know if he'd be able to stop at just those touches. Ironically, he succeeded so well that there were even a few rumors circulated about the cooling off of their friendship, speculation that they had quarreled.)
But they were happy months too-happy, in spite of all else, happy because of the stolen moments, stolen kisses-and the nights- dear Lord, the breathtaking, beautiful sensuality and passion of those nights...
He learned all the ways she liked to be touched, all the sensitive spots on her body, learned all the sounds she made when he touched her… He learned the taste of her and the feel of her surrounding him.
He learned, too, all the simple happiness, the peace, he could find in her.
He liked to stay up a little later at nights, or wake up a little earlier, just to watch her sleep, to listen to her even breathing, and marvel that this was really her, that she was really there, that she was really his…
Oh, he loved her, loved her, loved her… Loved her with an intensity and a tenderness he'd never even known he was capable of-until now, until her.
And amazingly, miraculously, she loved him too.
~*~
Hermione entered her flat one evening to find two packages on the table.
She opened one-and her breath caught in her chest, tears pricking at the back of her eyes. It was a decree of divorce-the marriage between Harry Potter and Ginny Weasley was officially over. He was free.
She felt a flood of emotion well up inside her, relief filling her. Even though she'd known that his marriage was ending, knew too that he loved her and belonged to her, some tiny corner of her mind and heart had ached at the knowledge that, in the eyes of the world, he still belonged to Ginny. She wasn't made for a secret affair and part of her heart had ached at the secrecy and the deception, even as she understood why it had to be so and loved him for wanting to protect her; part of her heart had ached at the cold, hard fact that he was still married.
And now finally, he was free. Free to love and free to be hers… Finally, that small part of her heart which had been hurting these past months could heal.
But the next package was what truly shattered her.
It was a ring, a single diamond that glittered and sparkled as if it were a living thing.
Her heart stopped and the tears that had only been threatening, filled her eyes and spilled over, sliding down her cheeks. And she couldn't even have said exactly why she was so touched, why it meant so much to her to see this tangible proof of his love-she trusted him, had never doubted him for a minute-and yet… And yet… It still meant so much to her to see this silent promise.
"I love you."
She whirled at the sound of his quiet words to see him standing in the door of her bedroom. She hadn't even realized, hadn't known, he was there-but he was, smiling at her a sort of solemn, tender smile.
"Every day, I'm still amazed to wake up and see you next to me. I want to come home to you every day; I want to wake up every morning to see your face. I want you, every day and every night, for the rest of my life." He paused and then asked, softly, "What do you think?"
Every word he'd spoken flew straight to her heart and nestled there, to be remembered, treasured, forever. His question pushed her out of her daze of joy and emotion and she catapulted herself into his arms, scattering kisses over his face.
"Yes! Oh Harry, I love you so much…"
His arms closed around her with enough force to push the breath from her body but she didn't care, only clung to him tighter. His lips captured hers in a long, slow, deep kiss that stole her breath, her heart, her very soul…
And she knew this was forever.
~*~
They were married in a very small, private ceremony a year later.
The ceremony was held at Hogwarts, attended only by Remus and Tonks and Professor McGonagall and Hermione's parents (who had to receive special permission from the Ministry and the usual defenses around Hogwarts had to be bent momentarily to allow them, as Muggles, onto the grounds and to see the castle as it truly was.)
The day before the wedding, Harry and Hermione went together to the Hogwarts burial ground-begun with Dumbledore's tomb and joined, later, with that of all those who had died in the war-Moody, Hagrid, Sirius (added after the war), Charlie Weasley, and so many others-and Ron.
Harry blinked back tears as he looked at Ron's grave, remembering all the years of friendship, all the laughter and the smiles, the Quidditch games, and all the shared dangers. And he remembered, too, the way Ron had watched Hermione, remembered the grin on Ron's face after one of their snogging sessions (and he was secure enough in Hermione's love and loyalty that he could think of it without a pang)-he remembered how much Ron had cared for Hermione.
He tightened his grip on Hermione's hand almost imperceptibly. I know you loved her Ron. And I love her too, love her so much. She's everything to me. And I'll take care of her, I promise. I'll take care of her and try to make her happy…
Hermione smiled a small, sad smile as she looked down at Ron's grave, remembering his smiles and his first awkward kisses and his loyalty. Dear, dear Ron. She had loved him and she still missed him-but she knew with an odd, poignant sort of knowledge, that even if Ron had lived, it would still be her and Harry. So much of herself, who she was and how she thought, had been built up around Harry over the years-and she understood, now, that she had, in some way, always loved Harry. In the end, it was always going to be Harry, always meant to be Harry… Ron had loved her first- as she had loved him-but Harry would love her last- as she would love him last and always…
It was time.
The small ceremony was going to begin in a matter of minutes-when the door to the Great Hall opened.
"Is this a private party or can we crash it?"
Harry turned at the sound of Fred's voice, grinning in spite of the sudden warmth in his chest. He'd hardly seen any of the Weasleys at all in more than a year-even Fred and George, who had been less hurt and more sympathetic than anyone else in the family. "I think there's room for you," he made answer lightly but his grin faded somewhat as he saw the figures behind Fred and George.
The twins hadn't come alone. With them were Bill and Fleur and, lastly, Mr. Weasley.
It gave him a sharp, poignant pleasure to see Mr. Weasley's familiar face, smiling with a touch of awkwardness but still smiling.
"Hello, Harry."
"Mr. Weasley."
Mr. Weasley hesitated, looking ill at ease, before he added quietly, "I'm sorry Molly isn't here but you know…"
He did know and he was all the more grateful to Mr. Weasley for coming because he understood, had always known that where he was concerned, the Weasleys' affection and gratitude were mingled, now, with regret and reproach, and at odds with their natural love and loyalty to Ginny.
"Thank you for coming," he said simply and sincerely.
"Yes, well, we couldn't miss it," Mr. Weasley said rather awkwardly.
It wasn't complete forgiveness and absolution-that would take more time. But it was a beginning and, on that day, at that moment, Harry couldn't ask for anything more.
Mrs. Granger appeared, hurrying to her seat.
And then he saw Hermione-and he forgot about everything and everyone else in the world.
God, she was so lovely. She was everything he had ever wanted, all he'd ever needed in his life…
He saw the way she smiled at the Weasleys, saw the happiness and the certainty in her eyes as her eyes met and held his as she walked towards him.
He felt the peace of absolute confidence settle into his own heart and as he prepared to say the words which would make Hermione his-and make him hers-for the rest of their lives, he knew that this love was what had always been meant to be, what their entire lives had been leading towards, and finally, all was right in his world.
~The End~