Disclaimer: See Chapter 1.
Author's Note: As I said in Part 1, this is AU and takes place in the early 19th century, so don't expect this to be entirely canonical-or at all canonical, really, in much besides character (at least, some parts of character, ignoring the idiocy that was character 'development' in HBP).
Thank you, everyone, who read and reviewed! I'm amazed at how popular this fic seems to be already. This is a rather short chapter out of necessity, in order for certain scenes that need to go together to actually go together. But to make up for it, I'll try not to wait too long before posting the next part.
For my dear AnndeeGranger.
The Truth About Love
Chapter 2: Learning Experiences
The next days and weeks passed for Hermione in something of a haze of unreality punctuated with moments of sharp clarity.
She soon realized-with a mixture of amusement and irritation-that for the most part, she was the object of envy from most other young ladies-and from most mothers of daughters of marriage-able age-for having managed to snare Harry, who was the undisputed most eligible bachelor in wizarding society that Season. As she overheard one matron put it, she was "a sly girl," although that matron said it in tones of grudging admiration.
Somewhat to Hermione's surprise, Professor McGonagall not only expressed no surprise but professed herself to be utterly delighted and was transparently sincere in her congratulations. Other than Professor McGonagall, it seemed as if Mr. Remus Lupin, her parents and Miss Chittister were the only people who were unreservedly glad.
Miss Chittister, indeed, was blithely satisfied at having her charge engaged to such an eligible bachelor so soon into the Season, and dismissive of the slight taint of scandal-"What does that matter? He's marrying you after all." And, as Hermione reflected, the "scandalous" behavior had been from before the time Miss Chittister had been engaged to act as Hermione's chaperone in wizarding Society events (closed to Hermione's parents, as Muggles) and so could hardly reflect badly on her.
Her parents' joy was rather more surprising to Hermione-surely they weren't happy that she'd been trapped into this just as much as Harry had been? But as Hermione's father put it, "We know you're innocent but if your mother and I were going to choose any man in the world to be your husband, we would have chosen your Mr. Potter." And her mother had added, "You are marrying an honorable young man who honestly cares about you and, perhaps more importantly for you, truly respects you as well. The circumstances are not ideal, admittedly, but all things considered, your father and I are very happy for you, my dear."
Which left Hermione with no choice but to swallow her own misgivings, at least for the moment.
She couldn't decide if she was more relieved or not that preparations for the wedding and her trousseau kept her from seeing much of Harry, other than at the obligatory social events they continued to attend in their status as a newly-engaged couple. (Hermione was thankful to find that, now that she was engaged, no one dared to be outright rude to her and thankful, too, to Harry, who was unfailingly courteous-as always-but with an added hint of gentleness in his manner.)
He called on her exactly once in the month following their engagement to talk about the more mundane details of their marriage.
"I was thinking of getting married at Hogwarts," he said with a tinge of uncertainty in his manner, that she suddenly found endearing. "If that's okay with you. Unless-would you rather get married here in Town?"
"No, I was thinking of Hogwarts too," she smiled. "It would give my parents the opportunity to see the school."
He looked relieved. "Good. I- erm-might have mentioned the possibility of our getting married at Hogwarts to Professor McGonagall when I last talked to her. I hoped you'd agree."
"I hope this isn't a sign that you're going to be one of those husbands who expects their wives to agree with everything they do," Hermione teased, trying to banish the slight awkwardness in their interaction now.
He looked stricken. "I didn't mean to--"
"Harry, I was teasing."
He relaxed enough to smile at her. "I'm sorry. This is a little… strange for me. I've never been married before."
"Neither have I, so we'll learn together."
They smiled at each other and for a moment, Hermione was comforted. They were still friends; marriage wouldn't change that entirely. And she knew Harry liked her, cared about her. They could be happy together…
"Also," he began in something approaching his usual manner, "I was wondering, where do you want to live? Would you want to stay in Town, in Grimmauld Place, to stay close to your parents?"
"Honestly, Harry, I don't know if I want to stay in Town. It'll be easy enough to visit my parents, now that I have my Apparition license."
"And of course, your parents will be welcome to visit us, whenever they like," Harry interjected.
She thanked him with a smile as she went on. "I was actually thinking of Godric's Hollow."
She saw an odd look flicker across his eyes and hastened to add, "But I really don't mind living anywhere, really. We can live at Grimmauld Place. It's not that important to me."
She couldn't read the expression in his eyes. Maybe Harry didn't want to live at Godric's Hollow; he never had until now, had barely visited it at all. His parents had died there… Would he really want to live in the house where his parents had been murdered? Oh, why had she brought it up and not simply agreed that they could go on living at Grimmauld Place, where Harry was now?
She hardly dared to breathe until she saw his expression lighten a little. "Have you added being a soothsayer to your many talents? I was actually thinking that it was time to open up Godric's Hollow again; I just wasn't sure if you'd want to live there."
She relaxed again, managing a smile.
"I think I'm going to like having a wife who can read my mind like this," Harry added lightly. "I'll send Dobby over to open up the house and make it livable again."
"Thank you. Miss Chittister and my mother have taken over the other preparations for the wedding, for the most part, but they wanted me to ask you if there's anything you'd like in particular."
He shook his head. "I don't really have any preferences. I'm sure you ladies will know much better than I will about flower arrangements and other such things. Don't all young ladies begin planning their ideal wedding from the moment they're old enough to understand such things?"
"I don't know about every other young lady but I didn't." She added, with disarming, unself-conscious candor, "I didn't really expect to ever get married."
"You planned to be a spinster?"
She nodded. She hadn't thought it in such definite terms, had cherished a tiny, carefully-hidden flicker of hope deep inside, but she realized that it was true; she really had not expected to be married. "I never really thought I would find anyone I would want to marry or who would want to marry me."
"Why ever not?"
"I'm not the sort of young lady whom most gentlemen seek in a wife; I know that. I'm not meek and subservient; I'm a bluestocking. I'm not a beauty nor am I some great heiress with a fortune to make up for my lack of beauty. I can't play or sing and I dislike embroidery so I am a sad failure in the traditional female accomplishments. And I wouldn't want to marry anyone who would want me to become a different person."
Harry stared at Hermione at her calm recitation of her so-called flaws. Amazingly, he couldn't detect more than the faintest hint of sorrow in her tone or in her expression; she sounded perfectly calm and matter-of-fact, as if she were discussing something as immutable as the seasons. He felt a surge of emotion and it took him a moment before he realized that what he was feeling was anger-anger at all the people who had ever made Hermione think she was somehow not worthy of matrimony-anger and protectiveness too. He had accepted that he had to marry Hermione and he recognized that she was just as much a victim of this as he was but he hadn't truly thought about what this must be like for her. He might not have planned for this; he might not have wanted it at first; he might not love her-but he would make her happy. He was suddenly fiercely determined, in a way that he hadn't been before, to make sure that she never regretted marrying him. She deserved more than what she was getting; she deserved to be happy, deserved to have everything she wanted…
"This might not be what you wanted but I hope you feel free to make your wedding everything you ever dreamed of," he said, sincerity and a touch of self-consciousness making his voice rather rough.
She smiled at him, feeling warmth unfurl in her heart. "Thank you, Harry." Surely this marriage couldn't possibly be so bad when he could say something so sweet, be so considerate?
~~
It was the night before her wedding.
By this time tomorrow, she would no longer be Miss Hermione Granger; she would be Mrs. Harry Potter, Mrs. Hermione Potter.
Mrs. Hermione Potter… She tested the name in her mind, trying to make it sink in that it would be her name from tomorrow. For the rest of her life, she would be Mrs. Hermione Potter.
She heard a soft knock on her door. "Come in."
Her mother slipped inside the room, closing the door. "How are you feeling?"
She managed a smile. "I'm fine." She paused, thinking about Harry, thinking of different things he had said and done in these past few weeks. "I'm fine," she repeated with more certainty in her voice.
Mrs. Granger smiled as she sat on the edge of Hermione's bed. "I think you will be happy. He's a good man."
Hermione's expression softened unconsciously. "I know he is," she agreed softly.
Mrs. Granger studied her daughter, feeling a wave of tenderness for the girl, her only child, her dear, clever, mature daughter. "You love him, don't you, Hermione?" she asked quietly.
Hermione flushed and then paled, looking down at her fingers fidgeting with the bed covers. "No… I don't know… But I think," she looked up at her mother soberly, "I think I could love him." And she was terrified that after a few weeks of marriage, she would love him…
She'd never thought that the idea of loving her own husband would be frightening but it was. If she did grow to love him-if she let herself love him-but he didn't love her, it would break her heart. How was she supposed to live with him, loving him but knowing that he didn't love her? She didn't doubt that he would be a good husband; she didn't doubt that he would be a faithful husband; no matter how low the standards for marital fidelity might be, in general, in their Society, she knew Harry wouldn't be that sort of husband. He was too honest and he cared enough that he wouldn't want to hurt her so he wouldn't. But if she loved him and he didn't love her-how would she live like that? It would kill her-slowly. Every day, her heart would die a little more.
"Is it so terrible, to think that you might grow to love him?"
"But he doesn't love me."
"Are you so sure of that?" Mrs. Granger studied her daughter. She had watched young Mr. Potter when he was with Hermione and had seen signs of tenderness, of caring, in him that seemed rather more than what was due to friendship. Mostly unconscious, from what she could tell, but the signs had been there nonetheless, and had done more to reassure her about her daughter's marriage than anything else could have. Perhaps he didn't love Hermione yet but the potential for love was certainly present.
"Yes." The one word answer was still eloquent in its tone of resignation.
"Let him learn to love you. Let him see the intelligent, lovely, kind young lady you are and I think he'd be a fool not to love you."
Hermione choked on a laugh. "You're my mother; of course you think so."
"Perhaps, but it doesn't mean I'm wrong."
Mrs. Granger sobered, looking down at the bed covers in her turn, as she flushed, suddenly looking uncomfortable. "Now it's time I tell you a little of what you can expect tomorrow, on your wedding night."
Hermione blushed, feeling an odd mixture of curiosity and nervousness and embarrassment.
Mrs. Granger didn't look up at Hermione as she went on. "I would be remiss if I did not tell you that there will be some pain at first-but if your husband is careful and considerate, which I'm sure young Mr. Potter will be, it should not be too much or too lasting. The act of love can be-indeed, it should be-pleasant for both man and woman-but it is not always so for women."
"Is it-always pleasant for men?" Hermione ventured.
"Yes."
"That hardly seems fair."
Mrs. Granger gave a rather wry smile, looking up for the first time, though her cheeks were still the color of ripe strawberries. "I believe you are well aware of the fact that life is not generally fair." She paused and then added, "This is not to say that it is necessarily a disagreeable or painful experience for women; it is not. Has-has your Mr. Potter kissed you?"
Hermione shook her head in a rather jerky, almost involuntary movement. "Only on the hand."
"Ah. Well, I have seen the way he behaves with you and he is always considerate and respectful, so I am sure you have little to worry about."
Her tone sounded somehow less certain than her words but Hermione wasn't sure whether that was due to embarrassment or not.
"A man-even one who is faithful to his wife, which I'm sure young Mr. Potter will be-can find pleasure with almost any woman but a woman's enjoyment of the marriage bed relies on her affection for her husband." Mrs. Granger met Hermione's eyes. "I do not think, given what we just spoke about, you need worry about a lack of affection for your husband, on your part. Truly, Hermione, I am confident that your husband will treat you with all the care and gentleness you need, so you should have nothing to fear."
Hermione nodded, trying to seem reassured. "I'm not afraid," she managed to say.
Mrs. Granger smiled gently. "Good." She stood up, with the rather relieved air of one who has completed a disagreeable task. "Have a good night and sleep well, dear."
Hermione nodded again as her mother left after dropping a light kiss on her forehead. But somehow, Hermione rather doubted that she would be sleeping well, if she slept at all. Her fears had not been allayed. If anything, they had been exacerbated. She wasn't afraid that Harry would hurt her; she trusted Harry, trusted him not to hurt her, at least not physically.
Harry had not kissed her. He had not even tried to kiss her. Did he not desire her at all? But her mother had said that a man could find pleasure with almost any woman-could desire almost any woman.
Did Harry desire her? Could he desire her? And even if he could-even if he did-how would she know if, when the candles were snuffed and it was dark, Harry would close his eyes and picture another woman's-Miss Weasley's-face…
And could she live with not knowing?
~To be continued…
A/N 2: The obligatory 'wedding night' talk between the bride and her mother; be grateful that Mrs. Granger is too sensible to tell Hermione to 'lie back and think of England.'
And before you decide to get out your muskets and bayonets at the idea of Harry fantasizing about Ginny when he's with Hermione-believe me, he won't. Ever. My Harry is much smarter than JKR would have him be. But you can expect a good deal of UST before the fun part actually comes. ;-)