Mummy

It was ironic, Hermione thought, that everyone had once told Harry how much he looked like James Potter, and now everyone was telling Harry how much James, his own son, looked exactly like him.

`Except for the eyes' they said. And it was true. Although James had his father's messy black hair and shy smile, his big brown eyes were as different from Harry's vivid green as they could be.

But they weren't Ginny's. And that, Hermione thought, made it all the more ironic. Because the only ones who knew the truth about James, and where he came from, were the only ones able to see the difference between Ginny's light brown eyes, slightly slanted in the corners, and always lengthened when she smiled, and Hermione's sad, deep, dark, round brown eyes.

James made a loud, squishing sound as he smacked his hands together, impatient, and made a noise that sounded suspiciously like “Yuck.” Hermione was just kneeling down to play with him again when she smelled the distinct odor of a bad diaper and a large mess.

“Yes, yuck.” Hermione agreed with the four month old, scooping him up and taking him in the next room to change him. “You got those brains from me too, I think. Harry probably would've just dealt with the mess without complaining, but we both know how bad it smells, don't we James?” The child giggled and clapped his hands together once again, making Hermione smile, in spite of the mess she knew was coming. If there was one thing she hated about babysitting James, it was the mess he made in his diapers, and he did it quite often.

But if babysitting was the only time she really got to spend with him as a mother, Hermione wasn't too adverse to changing a few dirty nappies. Besides, it gave Harry and Ginny the chance to get out and her the chance to get ready for the baby she knew was growing inside of her. Besides, it wasn't enough work for her to accept payment for taking care of her own child. She and Ron might be struggling a little more than Ginny and Harry, because of the money Harry had inherited from his parents, but she was above accepting money for doing something she wanted to do for free all the time.

She could have been doing it for free all the time, too. Taking care of their child, together, could have happened if she hadn't let the chance slip away. If she'd bothered to speak up…

* * *

She had tried to bring it up to him a million times, but since the night they had actually conceived the baby, things between her and Harry had become awkward. In fact, since she was pretty sure Ginny and Ron knew what had happened that night as well, things between all of her friends had been more than a little tense, and Harry and Hermione hadn't been left alone for more than a few moments together.

She had spent forever thinking up something that would bore Ron and Ginny to the point that both Weasley would leave and let her talk to Harry, and now that she finally had him alone, Hermione had no idea what she wanted to say. Or rather, she knew what she wanted to say, but wasn't sure how to say it.

How does one tell their best friend and secret love that you're engaged to a different man, and at the same time pregnant with said loves' child.

“One doesn't tell their best friend that. One shouldn't GET oneself into this situation to begin with.” Realizing that Harry was shooting her an odd look, Hermione finally stopped and sat down on the chair surrounded by a stack of books that had been her pretense for dragging everyone to the library.

Finally, unable to figure out how to begin the conversation, Hermione just handed him the book. He mouthed the words as he read them, just as he always had, and Hermione found herself watching his lips even when she knew she shouldn't be. Unable to leave her hands with nothing to do, she began playing with a loose thread on the edge of her old robe.

“Pregnancy tests and paternity patterns?” Harry asked, puzzled, after reading the entire thing through. “What's going on?”

“I did them. Both of them. After…” She allowed herself to drift off, knowing that he'd make the connection on his own without either of them saying it. None of them had tried saying anything about it for the last several weeks.

Like she had known he would, his lips tightened in the corners of his mouth, and his skin turned a shade paler. “I won't say anything to Ron if you don't want me to, but if he takes after you at all it'll be difficult to cover up. You two don't really look anything alike.”

She expected him to deny it. She expected him to demand to see the results of the test herself. She expected him to maybe, at the most, offer money to support the baby, which she knew she and Ron would adamantly turn down. She didn't expect him to say what he said.

“And you're sure?”

“Yes.”

“And it's…mine?”

“Yes.”

It was a long moment before either of them spoke again, but when he did, he looked her in the eyes as he did it. “I meant what I said. I should have realized so long ago that I-“

“Harry, you were drunk!” She argued, unable to hear him say it again and not act on it.

“That doesn't mean I didn't mean it! If anything, it meant I could say exactly what I felt without thinking about who else it could hurt.” He argued. And he meant it, she could tell. His bright green eyes didn't light up like that when he didn't care about something. And he didn't lie.

“It could hurt Ron. And Ginny. And me.” She knew as soon as she said it that it wasn't the right thing to say. It more than got across the point she was trying to make- she was already engaged to Ron! And he to Ginny! It would me social suicide to have a love baby with the famous Harry Potter and break of both of their engagements to members of the Weasley family after years of trying so hard to convince the press, the people around them, and their significant others that they didn't feel anything more than friendship for each other.

Too bad they couldn't lie to themselves, Hermione thought. Life would be so much less complicated if she didn't know how much she was lying every time she told Ron how much she loved him too.

But Harry thought she meant that she wouldn't be happy with him. Harry thought she meant that she didn't love him.

And if it was enough to convince him that they couldn't just abandon their fiancée's at the last moment to have a baby together, maybe she shouldn't correct him. Maybe it was better like this, for both of them.

But when he walked away, she said it. The most important thing she'd ever said in her entire life. “I love you too, Harry.”

The only thing there to hear her words were the books and shelves of the library, so the words fell silent. And thinking about how much disaster it would have caused if her words had been heard, Hermione swore she would never say them again.

* * *

It had been one of the most logical, intelligent decisions she'd ever made. Harry and Ginny had enough money to raise the baby, and Ginny would let her be in the baby's life as much as she could be. She wouldn't be looked down upon by the rest of society, and both families could live happily ever after.

And she had her own baby coming now. In a few months Ron would be doting on her and her swollen stomach, putting up with wild mood swings and morning sickness just like he had the first time, despite the fact that the child wasn't his. Ron was a good husband, and she knew he'd make an amazing father.

But he wasn't Harry, and this child coming wasn't her first. And it was ironic, she thought, that the first child she had, the one that she'd loved the longest and the most, wasn't even hers anymore.

And then little James looked up at her with her own eyes, his face as angelic as she'd ever seen it, and said “Mummy?”

Yes, Hermione thought. THAT was irony.

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AN- Some of your reviews did point out that in my attempt to actually finish one of my stories, (because due to lack of time and lack of inspiration, very few are finished anymore) I was a little lacking in the details of the plot. Although the point of this fic was mainly to get the idea out there, and to give some continued H/Hr supporters some hope that they could one day end up together, in spite of the epilogue, it appears that many of you have no ability to read BETWEEN the lines. But because my story would be removed from portkey unless it doesn't have a happy H/Hr ending, (although in my opinion, love DOESN'T always make sense, and should subscribe to very many actual rules,) and I actually am a little proud of the emotions I was able to convey, here it is. The second part of this now-trilogy that I never intended to write, and ended up writing anyway.

I REALLY appreciate the reviews I received from those of you who chose to convey your opinion of the writing, even when you were critical. You were able to understand what I was trying to get across, and you pointed out a flaw in my writing that I now intend to fix (not the rule, the gap in the story! Though with the ending I've thought up, both should be corrected)

So thank you.

Disclaimer- It's J.K.'s creation…in my head, it's my world.

It had been sixteen long, difficult years for Hermione. Sixteen miserable, stretched-out years during which she had pretended to be a million things, none of which she actually was.

She seemed happy with Ron. At times, she could almost convince herself that she was. That things now were just like they had been back then, in Hogwarts, when Ron and Harry and her where best friends, the boys always getting them into trouble, and then putting her in a position where she had to get them out of said trouble.

And then Ron would kiss her. Or Ginny would should up as the three of them tried to catch up and socialize, dragging Harry back to the house for any number of unimportant reasons. Or one or both of her boys would be called away for work…

Slowly, the happiness Hermione could take from the simple things in life, like joking around with her two best friends, or playing with her first child, despite the fact that no one but her seemed to think of him as hers anymore, disappeared. And every year, on her first son's birthday, she felt another little piece of her die.

And then Ron died, and a piece of her DID die that day. She realized that she may not have been in love with him, but she had loved him, and would miss his bad jokes and horrible fashion sense and bad excuses. She had tried to love Ron, and a part of her had always felt guilty that she hadn't been able to- but as hard as he tried to make her happy, Ron wasn't Harry.

The waves of guilt became just a little worse when, no more than a year after Ron's death, she could barely handle being around Harry anymore, or James, for that matter. In an effort to not break apart Harry's happiness and family, the way Ron's death had broken her family and already unhappy life apart, Hermione sent her youngest off to Hogwarts and then avoided Harry for the rest of the year.

On Christmas, she sent very little more than a card, (though there might have been a little bit of a gift in there- she couldn't resist when she found the picture of them together by the lake.) When the children returned home, she waited until he and Ginny had left to show up for Rose, as cruel as that seemed. She'd tried hard, all year, to avoid having to deal with the problem. She tried to do what was right for Harry.

But she couldn't miss her son's birthday. And she had to do what was right for herself now.

“Hermione?” That didn't make her any happier to have to deal with Ginny. Throwing HER son's birthday party, non-the-less! Grimacing, she put on a smile as fake as Harry's wife's.

“Ginny!”

“It's been forever!” The petite redhead squealed, throwing her arms around the taller woman's shoulders. Hermione wondered if it was an accident that Ginny had treaded on her sandal-clad foot in those spiky high heels.

“I know! I just thought I'd stop by though…maybe see James for a little bit. I need to leave soon- work, you know!” Although this was completely untrue, Hermione couldn't bring herself to feel any guilt about it- the mock-sympathy look that Ginny was giving her was almost enough to make her leave right then!

“Of course. Well, James is just finishing up a quidditch game with some friends, but I'll let him know you're waiting when he's done.” Hermione doubted she would.

“Thanks, Ginny, I appreciate it…where's Harry?” That one question immediately set Ginny's teeth on edge. Yes, Ginny knew EXACTLY how Hermione felt. But given that she and Harry were once so close, there wasn't really much she could do about it.

“He's over there, talking to Dad…something about how muggles shoot off fireworks.” If looks could kill, Hermione would be long dead.

After another forced smile and an obligatory goodbye hug, Hermione hesitantly approached her best friend. And then he laughed.

Until that laugh, Hermione hadn't been sure what she'd really feel when she saw Harry again for the first time in almost a year. Shock, because he'd look so much older? Nervous, because she wouldn't know what to say? Angry, because he hadn't tried harder to get in touch with her?

But all Hermione felt when she heard that laugh was complete and utter relief that, despite all the time that had passed, Harry still seemed happy. He still felt familiar as he had all those years ago, when they had nearly shared a brain. And his laugh still made her heart stop.

“Where've you been?” It was a sort of evil, triumphant feeling men could never understand that made Hermione smile sweetly at Ginny over Harry's shoulder while he hugged her tightly to him for a moment longer than was necessary.

“Around.” She answered vaguely, smiling so hard her face hurt in spite of herself.

“I tried to floo you, tried to write and didn't get a reply, tried to track you down at work…” She hadn't heard about that, and it took a moment afterwards to remember what she'd even come for…

But she'd come for the same reason she'd let him leave. To do the right thing, for him, and for James. And now, for herself. Because there was no way this could be wrong. Nothing wrong could feel this right.

She hugged him again briefly, pulling him into one of the spontaneous hugs she'd often given him and Ron throughout their school years, when she'd often become nearly overwhelmed with emotions.

“He needs to know now. He has a right.” The words slipped out of her mouth before she could let herself stop to think about them, partly because she knew that if she thought, she'd keep them in, and partly because there wasn't any easier, safer way to say it.

And to her surprise, he didn't immediately argue. He didn't turn away, embarrassed, or try to pull her aside or give her that look that he used to give her, when the war became bigger, and it was dangerous to say something out loud and she said it anyways. Those looks always had made her feel like the biggest of bigots.

In fact, he didn't argue at all.

“You're right, he does deserve to know.” Harry agreed, running a hand through his hair. Although his once dark locks were now streaked through with more than a little grey, Hermione couldn't help her eyes watching as his fingers carded through that hair, and wishing that she had gotten a chance to do that.

Harry's chuckle brought her attention away from his hair and down to his eyes. At first, she thought he was laughing at her reaction to him, until he said, “Don't look so surprised. I was the one who wanted to tell him everything when he turned eleven, remember?”

It was true. Harry hated secrets enough that he had been willing to reveal James's true mother to their son years ago, before he had even left for Hogwarts, but Hermione had refused. It wasn't right, she had argued, to spoil his first year with such a heavy weight.

And every year since, she'd thought of another excuse. She was out of excuses.

“Can you stay?” Harry asked her, his eyes intently studying her face. Did he look at Ginny like that? she wondered. And did he know what it did to her when he did it? And despite having told Ginny that she had to leave for work, and despite the fact that she didn't know how much longer she could be with Harry without giving herself away, she still immediately said yes.

And his smile made it all worth it.

“All right. We'll tell him. After the party, after all of his friends have left.” The wave of relief that cascaded through her was almost enough to knock Hermione off of her feet.

“What about until then?” She asked, smiling at him. “The party isn't ending for another few hours.”

“We'll catch up.” He replied, green eyes smiling down at her. And really, how could she say no when he was looking at her like that?

So they talked about everything and nothing for the first hour. About how Hermione was handling life as a single mother (“To be honest, it's not that different, now that Rose is in school.”) to how Harry liked his own job, to when he planned on retiring. And when they seeming ran out of topics, and had spent another hour reminiscing about old times, the silence that descended between them was more comfortable than the prevailing silence that had remained in her own home with Rose at school, ever since Ron had left the house and never returned.

And then, out of the blue, Harry ruined that silence.

“I never understood why you didn't follow me.” Harry said, his eyes on his son, who was surrounded by friends, and not on her.

This statement seemed so random, so out-of-place, and so vague, that most people would have never been able to follow it. Hermione, however, knew exactly what he meant. She'd been asking herself that very same question for over sixteen years. But at the time, the answer had made a lot more sense.

“A lot of reasons.” She answered bleakly, and hurried to elaborate when he flinched. “No, not because of you. Because of everything else.” Finally his green eyes met hers, his surprise evident. Had he really always thought it had been because of him?

“Like what?” Apparently. He really didn't seem to believe her.

“Like my engagement to Ron, and yours to Ginny, and what people would have thought, and-“

“That's bullshit, Hermione, and both of us know it.” His voice was so calm, but so hard and angry at the same time. He was right. It was utter trash, and she wasn't the only one to know it.

“You won't like it.” She replied, knowing that the excuse was weak at best. It certainly wouldn't be enough to keep him from wanting to know it.

“I didn't like that you left either.” He replied, once again turning away from her.

“I didn't…I didn't want to see you unhappy anymore. You had already been ridiculed by the rest of the world a million times over. There were times that I know it seemed like everyone in the WORLD was against you, and I saw what it did to you! And I couldn't do it, knowing that that was what would happen, and that…that it would be my fault.” When she saw the underlying anger in his eyes, she almost hadn't been able to finish. There was a bitterness there, now, and a hurt that seemed almost too deep to see.

She saw it though. And it hurt worse than anything else to know that there was nothing in the world she could do to fix it, after SHE had been the one to put it there.

“You were ALWAYS there for me, Hermione. When the rest of the world was ridiculing me, when the rest of the world was idolizing me, when the rest of the world was hunting me, and my other best friend was too scared to stay…you were always there.

“And then I waited for you to follow me…I was ready to work it out with you, to wait for you, because I knew, even then, that I'd never be as happy with anyone else as I had been with you! I was ready to call off my farce of a marriage to a girl I barely knew and ask you to marry me right then…and I turned around, and for the first time, I NEEDED you and you weren't there. So I went back-“ His eyes were swimming with emotions now, a million emotions she could never understand, and she felt her own eyes swimming with tears at the hurt and anger there. “I went back to library, to try and reason with you. And you were gone. And then next day, you and Ron set the date for the wedding, and…and it hurt so much worse that the rest of the world turning on me, the day you left me.”

“Hey Dad, Mum said you wanted me?” Her son's voice had gotten so deep in yet another year! Where had the cracking tenor he'd spoken with at the train station gone? And when had he gotten so tall? He was nearly taller than his father now. Seeing her studying him, James smiled easily at Hermione. “Hey auntie, I haven't seen you around here in a while. Where've you been?”

“That's…that's part of what we need to talk to you about son.” Harry replied for her, putting his hand on James's shoulder. “But go say goodbye to everyone else first. Your…erm, Hermione and I will be inside waiting for you.”

Shooting the two of them one last odd look, James did as his father said and turned away from them to jog back towards his friends. Harry wouldn't meet her eyes anymore. “Come inside. I'll make us some tea…and find us a headache potion. I'm quite sure that after tonight, all of us will need it.”

* * *

Hermione felt that her son had handled the news pretty well, considering. Sure, he'd thrown a few things around at first, including breaking a few teacups and plates, and tossing his chair across the kitchen, but when he'd settled down enough to hear the entire story, he didn't seem to have very much to say. After a drawn-out, awkward silence that prevailed throughout the kitchen, when James's outburst was over, he asked, “Did you ever love Mum?”

Harry paused, Hermione noted hopefully. He paused, and he only ever did that when he had to think over his words carefully. “I loved your mom very much…”

“Not enough, apparently.” The teenager's words cut deeper than she had expected- was there something wrong with her, that had him wanting Ginny to be his mother instead? But no, she told herself. He just wanted to believe in the love that he had thought his parents had felt for each other all along. Any kid would want that.

His next question, however, was unanticipated, despite the fact that it was such an obvious question, and one she should have expected from the moment she thought of telling him the truth. “And what kind of mum gives their kid up without a fight? Even if it is to his dad?”

Hermione opened her mouth, but didn't have anything to say.

Harry, however, had plenty. “That's enough! She was just doing what she thought was best for you at the time! She has always had nothing but your best interests at heart! Do you know how hard it was for us to get her to go home to Rose, and Ron, when you were here?” To her surprise, James looked a little apologetic, something she wasn't sure she could have managed had she been in his position.

Then, without a word, her son left, slamming the door to the Potter home on the way out. “He'll come around, in a bit. It just takes him a while.” Harry said quietly, trying to reassure her. But she already had known that.

Because James was just like Harry in every way except his eyes.

And his common sense. It appeared that like her son, it took Hermione a while to come around to the truth as well. In this case, sixteen plus years.

But she had to accept the truth now. She was still, despite all of the time that had passed and all of the things that stood against them, completely and totally in love with Harry Potter. And she needed him back. Even if it wasn't right for Ginny to break apart her family. Even if it wasn't right, to the wizarding public, that she see someone else only a year after her husband died.

Because for the first time, Hermione Granger was doing what was right for herself.

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