Disclaimers: Please see Chapter 1
A/N: Well, like I've said, it's been a great journey. Just to be sure, if you're reading this and you haven't read Chapter 5 (Ever the Same), please go back and read that first. My extreme appreciation to all those who've reviewed. Thanks again to The_Scribbler for the excellent beta work.
A/N: By the way, I had entered this in the Elderwand Competition in a brief moment of insanity. If you have time, please log in and rate it. Thanks!
Epilogue - And Now You're Mine
And now you're mine. Rest with your dream in my
dream.
Love and pain and work should all sleep, now.
The night turns on its invisible wheels,
And you are pure beside me as a sleeping amber.
No one else, Love, will sleep in my dreams. You will go,
we will go together, over the waters of time.
No one else will travel though the shadows with me,
only you, evergreen, ever sun, ever moon.
Your hands have already opened their delicate fists
and let their soft drifting signs drop away;
your eyes closed like two gray wings, and I move
after, following the folding water you carry, that carries
me away. The night, the world, the wind spin out their destiny.
Without you, I am your dream, only that, and that is all.
- Pablo Neruda, And Now You're Mine (Love Sonnet LXXXI) as read by Andy Garcia and Julia Roberts from the Il Postino (The Postman) soundtrack.
In every relationship one goes through, there are days that stand out more than most. For whatever reason, be it of extreme sadness or unexpected happiness, we remember those days. Each sunrise or sunset, a memory of a scent, a smile or tear - they become the pieces that create the colorful mosaic of our lives; each piece different from the others and yet needed all together for the work of art to be completed and make sense.
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31st December 2008
Harry Potter is finally at peace.
It was a quiet Sunday morning, and he was lying in bed, naked, watching a peacefully sleeping Hermione Granger. She was sleeping on her stomach facing him, her wild hair gloriously spread out on her pillow like cinnamon flames. Her left hand was stretched out to him, a soft smile on her lips. The sheet had dropped halfway down her back, exposing her lightly tanned skin, and telling of her nude state.
He watched her contentedly, not believing that she was in his bed, her even breathing calming his soul.
He couldn't believe it had been three years. Three years since they broke down holding each other in the middle of the cemetery. Three years since they had first admitted they loved each other.
A finger traced her lovely profile. The three years they had spent together had not been easy. Burdened by invisible wounds, they had to confront the lowest moments of themselves. However, as they had promised to each other that night, they did not do it alone. For every remembered pain and ghastly memory, the other had been there to hold their hand.
Hermione had moved back six months after they had gotten together. She had wanted to move back right away but her boss wouldn't let her and it took her six months to get him to let her go. Those six months had been spent apparating back and forth Paris and London, resulting in many haggard hours for the two of them. The mirrors, though, were an immense help during those times when miles had separated them.
They had moved in together once she completed her transfer. It had been quite an adjustment then, little quarrels spouting here and there. Little spats between a couple creating a normal life between them; Harry had loved every single minute of it, not to mention the making up afterwards.
They never did have the explosive rows Hermione had with Ron, a fact which she had been entirely grateful. Their fights were quieter and usually a lot more complicated than at first glance - befitting of their deep natures and intense personalities. For some reason though, they never even contemplated breaking up even when they were maddest at each other. They've always managed to hold back, their instinct to protect the other superseding their anger and annoyance.
It had been a marvelous three years, difficulties and adjustments all, in Harry's opinion. Sharing their lives had been second nature, something that they had been doing their whole lives. They usually spent their time watching films or, if Hermione nagged or bribed him enough, catching a play at one of the West End theaters. They loved to go to muggle grocery stores together, laughingly debating the values of nutrition versus taste.
It had surprised them that most of their friends seemed to have accepted their relationship so easily. It was inevitable, they had told them. Apparently, they were the last ones to see what everyone had known all along.
Ron had also been heartwarmingly accepting of them. He had cornered Harry, one time that they went out to dinner. He said that though he never realized it at the time, it had always been at the back of his mind that what he had with Hermione weren't meant to last. They had no idea then what they had been doing, how to adjust to each other. Eventually, their differences wore them down. He told Harry that he was glad Hermione found him finally. She needed someone who understood her, not someone who riled her up at every opportunity.
Ron had been instrumental in repairing the awkwardness their relationship had generated with the Weasleys. Though the Weasley kids had been accepting of them, Mrs. Weasley had not. Mr. Weasley, though he was not outwardly disapproving of them, had been noticeably distant. This had resulted in a drop of their attendance in the Weasley Sunday lunches. It was at one such lunch, that they had attended because of George's and Ron's insistence, that Mrs. Weasley's attitude was too much on Ron.
She had placed Charlie in the middle of Harry and Hermione then, with Ron seated on Hermione's right and Ginny at Harry's left. They had been too polite to say anything and just looked at each other, passing the message that they'd leave early after eating. Ron, however, had fumed. And when his mother had obviously made a comment on the strangely silent Ginny's appearance to Harry, Ron had enough. He told his mother that it was their lives, their decisions to make and though she had the right to tell them how she felt, she had no right to force her preferences on them. A shouting match previously unheard of in the Weasley household commenced as Mr. Weasley tried to comfort his wife while berating Ron for his 'disrespect'. Bill, George, and Percy had been on Ron's side, though they tried real hard not to raise their voices, they told their parents of the same woes they had. Fleur desperately tried to calm everybody down while Ginny had just disappeared mysteriously.
In the midst of the family chaos, Harry had gently wrapped Hermione in his arms and placed a soft kiss on her forehead. She gave him a smile, his smile. Then she wrote a note to the Weasleys, saying they had to go, and they disapparated back to their flat.
It had been awhile before went back to the Burrow, even when Mrs. Weasley had owled her apology, profusely saying how sorry she was and how she asked for their understanding as she had just been trying to protect her children. They just looked at the note and sighed. They did go back because of the other Weasley's insistence. But it had taken awhile before words said in anger had been forgotten between them.
Time does heal wounds though. Though they both still had the odd nightmares, something they suspected might not ever go away, the instances had lessened considerably. The presence of the other beside them at night was a big factor, they knew.
For three years, they had built a life that was solely theirs. They shared smiles, fears, their dreams.
Harry lovingly traced the oval cushion cut three carat diamond on the ring finger of her left hand. Set simply in platinum, he thought it reflected the woman who had always occupied his dreams. Simple, elegant, forged by the harshest forces of nature to become the most beautiful and dazzling person in his life; She has been and will be the only one there beside him.
Harry moved his hand underneath hers and her fingers instinctively interlocked with his. He brushed his thumb again over the ring he had given her not even three hours before. He reached up to brush a soft kiss on her lips, smiling at how she moved to press hers against his even in her sleep. He laid his head back on his pillow, watching her foray into the dreaming contentedly.
All was well.