Disclaimer: See Chapter 1.
Author's Note: It's finally finished! After nearly two years and more than 125 pages in Word, this is the end of 'The Truth About Love'. Many, many thanks to all of you who've read and reviewed this story so far and thank you for being so patient in waiting for this.
For madderbrad- who wanted a perfect happily-ever-after.
The Truth About Love
Epilogue: Perfect
Harry turned and looked up when he heard her step on the stairs-looked and stared. He barely managed to keep his jaw from dropping, barely managed to keep from drooling.
Good Lord.
She'd told him she'd ordered a new gown from her modiste just for tonight, their first ball together as a married couple. He couldn't decide whether to give her modiste an outrageous bonus or a severe lecture.
He'd married a goddess, a seductive siren.
The gown was a deep, sapphire blue-a color she had not been able to wear before, limited as she had been to the pastels that were de rigeur for unmarried, young ladies-and while she'd never been anything less than lovely in his eyes in those pale colors, he'd never thought, never realized, that with her darker coloring, she could easily wear darker colors as well. As for this color-it suited her perfectly. The contrast with her skin made her skin seem even fairer until he could almost swear she glowed in the candlelight. The color added a luster and a richness to her hair, lent an added brilliance to her eyes.
And all that was entirely incidental to what the material and the cut of the dress did for her figure, the shining silk neatly limning her figure, not tightly but it didn't need to. The effect was subtler than that but no less potent. The way the material clung and then flowed over the curve of her hips only served to subtly hint at the curves of her body. It was desire disguised as clothing, almost guaranteed to make any red-blooded male begin imagining the body only hinted at within the dress; to him, who knew every inch of what was covered by the dress, it did more than that because he didn't need to imagine.
Watching her descend the stairs toward him almost did him in. He was never going to be able to take his eyes off of her tonight.
He wondered why such gowns had not been outlawed yet.
Hermione came to a stop before Harry, smiling, entirely satisfied with his reaction.
Just months ago, she might have planned such a gown with the intention of ensuring that no other woman even had a chance to try and attract him; she knew quite well that Harry would be even more attractive to some of the bored matrons now that he was safely married. Not that she was worried. She had too much confidence and faith in Harry to worry over that. But looking her best had its own rewards; she admitted to enough feminine vanity to want to be beautiful for Harry. And now, seeing the glazed expression in his eyes followed by the flicker of heat as his gaze wandered over her, the way his eyes darkened, made all the expense of the gown and the thought she'd put into it quite worth it.
"Do I meet with your approval, Mr. Potter?" she asked teasingly.
He couldn't believe he was going to allow her to be seen in public in the gown, he thought but knew better than to say aloud. Aloud, he said only, "You take my breath away."
Hermione smiled, reaching up to brush her lips lightly against his. "Thank you." She drew back, letting one hand smooth down his coat in a familiar gesture, half a caress. "You look very handsome yourself."
He relaxed into a smile, inordinately pleased at her simple compliment. "Well, then, shall we go?"
He offered her his arm in a gesture of exaggerated courtliness and she accepted, slipping her hand into the crook of his arm with a smile.
It was entirely different, Hermione told herself bracingly. There wasn't the slightest reason to feel at all apprehensive over this evening.
Yes, tonight was the first time she and Harry were attending a formal event, this ball to mark the official end of the London Season and one that could not be missed by anyone absent some dire circumstances, but she was not the same person she had been months ago at Lord Westerfield's ball. She was Mrs. Hermione Potter now and she was secure in her position and in Harry's love.
And yet, for all her encouraging thoughts, she couldn't quite suppress the tiny flicker of nervousness as she and Harry waited in the line to be announced. She couldn't even have told why except that she disliked knowing she would be the cynosure of so many eyes, not all of whom would be friendly and many of whom, she knew, would be watching only to find fault. (Succeeding in snaring the most eligible bachelor of the Wizarding world was not something that would increase her popularity to any degree.)
"Nervous?" Harry murmured beside her, almost as if he'd read her thoughts-which he probably had, in this case. Hermione had rather become accustomed to the realization that Harry truly did know her well enough to be able to guess her thoughts in most times.
She turned to look at him, seeing the reassuring warmth in his eyes as he met hers, and was suddenly able to smile at him with complete sincerity. "Not at all," she said-and it was, remarkably, true, she realized. She wasn't nervous, could not be nervous, not with him beside her.
His lips quirked slightly. "Good because I'm terrified."
She choked on a soft laugh. "Why?"
He lifted one shoulder in a half-shrug. "You know I hate being the center of attention and these large Society events are the worst. You won't mind if I try to hide behind your skirts, will you?"
She laughed and was barely conscious of the footman's announcement, his voice ringing out clearly over the buzz of conversation in the ballroom, "Mr. and Mrs. Harry Potter!"
And so it was that the first glimpse most of wizarding Society had of Harry Potter and his new wife was of her laughing expression turned up to his face as he smiled down at her-before they both realized, belatedly, that they'd been announced.
The fleeting silence that had fallen after the announcement swelled and stirred into an even louder buzz, everyone's heads coming together to comment and react to their appearance.
"Once more unto the breach," Harry murmured into her ear as they made their way into the ballroom, exchanging smiles and nods with those of their acquaintance before pausing to greet Minister Bartlett.
"Mr. Potter!"
The voice was unmistakable and Hermione stiffened a little as she turned along with Harry to face Lady Danvers.
She noted that Harry's smile was quite sincere and remembered him saying that he was actually grateful to Lady Danvers for making it so that they must marry. (Put like that, Hermione was grateful to Lady Danvers as well.)
"Lady Danvers," Harry greeted. "It's always a pleasure to see you."
"No, it's not," she contradicted, "but it's nice of you to say so."
Hermione had to bite her lip to keep back a bubble of laughter and then found it wasn't necessary as her impulse to laugh died as quickly as it had arisen as she found her gaze pinned by the too-acute gaze of Lady Danvers.
"Mr. Potter," Lady Danvers ordered crisply, although she kept her eyes on Hermione, "present me to your wife."
Hermione sensed Harry's surprise, felt the slight tensing of his arm beneath her hand before he moved his other hand to cover hers for a fleeting moment, a silent gesture of reassurance and protectiveness. (Not that she really needed it. With Harry beside her, she felt as if she wouldn't care if all of wizarding Society decided to give her the cut direct.) But all he said was, "Certainly. Lady Danvers, my wife, Hermione."
Hermione dipped into a curtsy of just the right depth-suited to Lady Danvers' superior rank and age but not at all fawning-- before raising her head to meet Lady Danvers' gaze directly and was surprised to see that Lady Danvers was actually smiling and nodding in approval. "Very good. I knew I would like you."
Hermione stared and felt Harry's surprise as well before he blurted out, rather incautiously, "I beg your pardon?"
Lady Danvers looked at Harry, her expression almost… kindly? "I knew from what I'd heard of you and of your wife from Minerva McGonagall that she had spirit."
"Professor McGonagall spoke to you about us?" Hermione heard herself say, almost without realizing she was going to speak. She felt Harry's quick glance at her but kept her eyes on Lady Danvers.
"Certainly and all I heard convinced me that you would be the perfect wife for Mr. Potter here."
"How could you possibly have known that?" Harry asked bluntly, unmindful of propriety.
Lady Danvers' smile widened. "I knew your parents and I have heard quite a bit about you over the years from both Albus Dumbledore and Minerva, Mr. Potter, and all I heard convinced me that you were enough like your father that you would need a proper wife with some spirit."
She moved closer, lowering her voice with an air of one about to reveal a great secret. "And when I heard from Minerva that she thought you admired the Weasley chit, I decided to take matters into my own hands. The Weasley chit is certainly pretty enough but it did not take much to see that she would never do for your wife; she doesn't have two serious thoughts to rub together and she would certainly never be able to keep you in line. No son of your father's could do with some silly chit for a wife."
"Do you mean to say that you plotted to cut Hermione and force us to marry?" There was a slight edge to Harry's voice now and Hermione squeezed his arm lightly where her hand rested on it.
"Certainly I planned it. Do you think I give people the cut direct for no reason or that I really imagined for one moment that anything untoward had happened between you two?" Lady Danvers looked almost affronted.
Harry opened his lips to respond but subsided, closing his mouth, as Lady Danvers continued on. "No one with half the sense God gave a sheep would truly imagine that anything improper had occurred between you two in those nights during the War-and, yes, of course I know about them. Minerva told me of them. But, fortunately for my purposes, most of Society does not have the sense God gave a sheep and so I knew that giving your then-best friend the cut would be all that was necessary. I've lived long enough to know what Society is like and I knew you could be trusted to do the honorable thing, unlike many other young gentlemen." She paused, her gaze taking in Harry's expression that was frozen into one of surprise but was certainly not best pleased either. "And you needn't look at me like that or are you going to tell me that you are not happy in your marriage?"
Her gaze flickered to where Hermione's hand rested on Harry's arm before she looked back up at their faces. "After the entrance you two made tonight, no one would believe that."
Hermione felt herself smiling at Lady Danvers with more fondness than she would ever have believed possible, suddenly liking the lady, for all her sometimes off-putting directness and her rather severe manner, a great deal.
"Of course we're happy," Harry admitted but he sounded almost grudging about it and Hermione patted his arm a little and, after a moment, he moved to cover her hand on his arm with his.
Lady Danvers nodded, her expression looking quite smug. "Good. You may thank me properly by presenting me with a god-child soon."
"Lady Danvers!" Hermione burst out, feeling a hot blush color her cheeks at the blunt words.
Lady Danvers waved a hand dismissively. "Now, don't be missish. I know you've got more spirit than that."
"I will make every effort to show my gratitude in such a way," Harry said with mock gravity.
Hermione pinched his arm lightly, throwing him a look, as she felt her entire face turn scarlet. "Harry!" she hissed softly.
He gave her a look of exaggerated innocence. "What? I make it a point to promptly repay all such debts of honor."
Lady Danvers gave a brief chuckle and nodded. "You will do very well together, as I knew you would."
With those words, she stalked off, looking for some other person to terrorize.
Leaving Harry and Hermione to stare after her.
"Meddlesome old dragon, isn't she?" Harry muttered. "I can't believe she put you through that kind of scandal deliberately."
Hermione smiled a little, entirely over her surprise and quite restored to herself again, and tightened her grip on his arm, leaning in until her breast deliberately brushed against his arm, getting his immediate attention. "You can't deny it was effective."
He glanced at her, his rather disgruntled expression softening. "I'm sorry. Your husband is not being very gallant, is he?"
She smiled at him, letting her other hand rest briefly against his waistcoat in a fleeting caress. "No, but then I would rather have you honest than gallant."
"You might be the only woman in England who could say that and actually mean it," he said with half-teasing wonder.
"Yes, I am quite the marvel, am I not?" she quipped.
"And so humble too," he grinned at her as the first strains of a waltz began. "May I have this dance, Mrs. Potter?" he asked with mock formality.
Hermione dipped her head in an exaggeratedly dignified acceptance. "It would be my pleasure, sir."
"Do you know," Harry continued as they made their way onto the dance floor and stepped into the waltz, "I do believe this is the first time we've ever danced together."
"It is," she agreed. "But I know you don't like dancing."
"No," he contradicted softly. "I don't like dancing with other people because I always knew I had to be careful not to show any signs of favoring any particular young lady but dancing with you is an entirely different matter."
"Because I'm your wife?"
"Well, yes, that minor detail does help," he admitted, making her laugh softly, before he continued, "but also because with you, I don't have to worry about people getting any false impressions."
She smiled and decided that-amazingly, given they were in a crowded ballroom-she'd never been as happy as she was right then. But she made answer lightly enough. "Such charming words, Mr. Potter, and to your own wife too. How very unfashionable of you."
He didn't respond in words but his smile deepened, shone in his eyes. And then he tightened his arms around her, bringing her in closer to him, until their bodies were not separated by the distance usually required by high sticklers during the waltz. His fingers tightened slightly on her back, his hand moving in a light, subtle caress. And she abruptly changed her mind and decided that, no, after all, she would be much happier if they were alone in his bedroom…
And she knew he could read her thoughts on her face because of the glint in his eyes before he murmured, "I think we should leave the ball early, don't you?"
She didn't answer in words, only smiled at him.
His grip on her hand tightened ever so slightly in response.
There was, after all, no real need for words between them, not then…
They did leave the ball early and, not long after that, left Town entirely, returning to the welcome peace of Godric's Hollow. Harry had asked Hermione if she would want to remain in Town longer, to be closer to her parents and to the Weasleys, to say nothing of the bookstores and lending libraries, but Hermione had smiled and shaken her head, as she'd answered him, simply, "I think we should go home." And so they had, even if they'd promised solemnly to return to Town for Christmas.
~*~
Harry took the steps two at a time as he returned from his usual morning flight. There had been a storm the day before so the air had the crisp, clean quality of a perfect autumn day which made flying so much more exhilarating, although in this case the storm had had other consequences which were not so pleasant and which had delayed him so that he was more than an hour later in returning than he usually was.
He glanced at the door to the little side room which Hermione used to meet with Daisy over the daily household matters to see the door was open and the room empty. Hermione must have finished her consultation with Daisy, then. With that in mind, Harry abruptly changed direction to walk towards the library only to find that the library was equally empty.
He stepped back out and nearly walked into Dobby who was passing. "Oh, Dobby, do you know where Hermione is?"
"Good morning, Harry Potter, sir! Dobby has not seen her, sir. Dobby thinks that Missmynee is still in her bedchamber because she has not come down."
Now Harry frowned. "She hasn't?"
"No, Mr. Harry Potter, sir. Daisy has not seen her yet."
"Thank you, Dobby," Harry dismissed Dobby half-absently before he turned and made his way swiftly across the library and up the private staircase to the family wing, heading straight for his room.
He had left Hermione dozing in his bed but that had been more than an hour ago and she was always up and about by this time. Was she not well? Had something happened?
He almost burst into his bedchamber to find that his bed was deserted, although the connecting door between his and Hermione's rooms was open and he strode through it and into Hermione's adjoining dressing room, not bothering to knock on that door.
Hermione looked up and Winnie gave a little squeal of surprise as the door opened to admit Harry. Hermione was standing only in her shift and Harry stopped short.
Winnie bobbed a hasty curtsy and almost scurried away once Hermione had finished stepping into her gown and dismissed Winnie with a nod and a smile, which she then turned to Harry. "Good morning."
"Are you feeling well?" Harry asked, foregoing a greeting in his lingering concern. "You never lie abed this late."
"I'm fine, Harry. Honestly, I am. I felt a little tired earlier which is why I decided to linger in bed longer. That is all and I am perfectly well," Hermione assured him as she presented him with her back so he could lace up her gown.
Harry laced her up and then bent to brush a kiss to the back of her neck, left bare by the style of her hair. "You are quite sure you are well?"
Hermione turned to brush her lips against his with a tender smile on her face. "I am well, Harry. You need not worry over me."
Harry's expression softened into a smile. "Very well, I suppose I am making much ado about nothing."
"It's very sweet of you but entirely unnecessary."
Harry nodded slightly. "I must be going then. I only returned to the house to change my clothes and tell you what has happened. The storm last night brought down a tree so I am going out to help the tenants clear it up."
"Oh, dear. Did it hit anything? How can I help?" Hermione asked in swift concern.
"Fortunately, it only hit a fence and not any one of the tenant's cottages. But it did bring a section of the fence down, so I will be helping to rebuild the fence once the tree has been removed."
"I will arrange for food and refreshments to be sent down to you then."
"Thank you, love. Obviously, I will not be able to return home for luncheon today and perhaps supper as well."
Hermione nodded. "Of course. Let me know if there is anything I can do to assist."
"Naturally, I will," Harry promised with a slight smile as he kissed her cheek quickly. "I will see you later tonight."
Hermione smiled at Harry's back as he turned to return to his own dressing room where, no doubt, Ferdy was waiting to help him. She'd said she was feeling perfectly well, which was true enough, but she was beginning to suspect the reason why she'd been feeling so tired in the mornings, why there'd been a few occasions lately when her stomach had felt rather uneasy. Her smile deepened; she would tell Harry once she'd confirmed her suspicions. Although, it occurred to her, that once Harry heard, he would undoubtedly start hovering over her as if she was in danger of falling apart at any moment.
It was with that in mind that Hermione waited until the next night, when her suspicion was no longer just a suspicion, when Harry was at his most relaxed as they curled together in his bed, their heartbeats slowing, the sweat of exertion drying on their skins.
Harry shifted, moving until he was lying on his back, and Hermione followed, her head resting comfortably against his shoulder, one hand lying on his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart.
She could feel the utter relaxation in Harry, felt the same lassitude in her own body.
She could feel herself drifting into sleep but deliberately pushed it back. She needed to stay awake at least a little longer.
"Harry?"
"Mm?"
"I have something to tell you."
She felt him brush his lips against her hair. "What is it, sweetheart?"
"Well, you know that I have been feeling rather tired lately."
She felt him stiffen and sit up enough so that he could meet her eyes.
"Yes, but you've assured me you're fine. Don't tell me that wasn't the truth. You're not ill, are you, Hermione?"
There was a thread of burgeoning panic in his voice and in his eyes as he looked at her.
"No, I'm not ill, Harry," Hermione hastily reassured him before she looked down, lowering her eyes to where her hand rested on his chest, and finished with just the slightest touch of mischief in her voice. "Pregnancy is not generally thought of as an illness."
There was a beat of silence.
"Preg-Hermione, are you really?" He moved his hand to her chin until she had to look up and meet his eyes, allowing him to see the contentment shining in her eyes.
"I've suspected it for a few days and now I'm certain of it."
"How are you feeling? Are you feeling unwell at all? How--"
She interrupted his abrupt burst of concern. "Harry, I am in perfect health. There's no need for you to worry so. I hope you won't spend the next seven months treating me as if I am in immediate danger of shattering at the slightest touch."
He had the grace to look somewhat sheepish. "I will try not to but I may need frequent reminders."
His expression abruptly darkened, a shadow crossing his eyes, and she felt a pang of doubt. She had felt so certain that Harry would be happy at the news but his expression was decidedly not a happy one at the moment.
"You are happy, aren't you?" Her question came out sounding less confident than she would have liked.
He stared at her for a moment before he abruptly cupped her face in his hands with so much tenderness it almost made her heart ache. He leaned in to kiss her softly before he drew back to meet her eyes. "My love, I never knew life could be like this, never knew I could be so happy."
She managed to smile through the tears that had welled up in her eyes. (Tears! Merlin, pregnancy had made a watering pot of her.) "I never knew life could be like this either."
"I am happy over this. I- I can't even express how much. I was only wondering what kind of father I will be because I never knew my own father and my uncle Dursley was not exactly a model father."
It was her turn to reassure him, reaching up to take his hands, which still lingered on her cheeks, in her own. "You are going to be a wonderful father; I have no worries over that."
One corner of his lips lifted in a half smile. "Your faith in me is heartening."
She smiled and kissed his cheek softly. "I know you, Harry. I know you will be a good father." She paused and then added lightly, "Besides, how could you not be when you are such a good husband?"
Now he smiled fully, his eyes softening, before he kissed her, softly at first and then more deeply, as she pressed herself fully against him, melting into his kiss as she always did. As she knew she always would.
His arms tightened around her, his hands caressing her bare, heated skin, until she was gasping, burning.
She moved, shifting above him, until she could feel his arousal against her thigh. She lowered her lips to his skin, leaving a trail of hot, damp kisses along his collar bone and further, feeling the slight shudder go through him, hearing his gasps, as his entire body went rigid beneath her. She smiled to herself, loving his reactions, loving the sensual power she had over him.
She moved, straddling him fully, lowering herself onto him with slow, deliberate care, until he groaned, his hands tightening on her skin. And then she set herself to loving him, her inner muscles caressing him, taking him as thoroughly as she gave herself to him. She loved him with all the sensual confidence she'd gained over the past few months, loved him with all the passionate generosity of her nature, loved him until he was shuddering and arching beneath her. And her sharp cry of fulfillment mingled with his groan of her name as she convulsed around him, above him, until she collapsed on top of him.
She lay sprawled wantonly above him, too spent and too sated to even contemplate moving. She could hear his gasps for breath against her ear, could feel the bone-deep satisfaction in his body.
"Great Merlin. Hermione…" The words were spoken on a gasp, his hands straying over her bare back in an idle caress.
She didn't open her eyes, only responded in a murmur, "Harry…"
"That was… that was…"
She smiled slightly at his stuttering. "I know."
One of his hands swept up her back in a long caress, cupping the back of her head and turning it gently so he could kiss her, softly, with a sort of lazy tenderness.
The kiss finally ended as she gave a soft, contented sigh, settling her head comfortably in the hollow on his shoulder.
She could feel drowsiness settling over her like a blanket and she let herself drift into it, vaguely conscious of his pulling the counterpane up over both their bodies as he, too, settled into a more comfortable position beneath her.
She could feel the steady beat of his heart, thought about the baby-their baby-that she carried inside her, a living symbol of their marriage and their love…
And her last coherent thought before sleep claimed her fully was that, now, truly, she had all she had ever dreamed of. Now, her life was perfect…
~The End~