Because of You

[A/N]: Well, I guess it's time for some things to start coming together, although not QUITE yet. After all, at some point a story has to reveal a path to the end. With that being said: prepare yourself. This is the last chapter where questions are really posed, rather than answered. Canon plays a really interesting roll in this story (at least in my opinion) and I will explain my reasoning at the end of the last chapter to see if you agree. As always, thank you for your reviews. (Keep them coming!)

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** WEDDING DAY **

Harry leaned against the wall and took a few deep breaths. It's normal to be nervous he comforted himself. For Merlin's sake, you're about to get married! But he wasn't nervous, he realized unhappily. It was something else. He pushed away from the wall and crossed the room to the door. He placed his hand on the doorknob and looked over his shoulder, making sure he wasn't forgetting anything. The folded paper Ron had tossed on the bed caught Harry's eye. He sighed and prepared to ignore it, but then dropped his hand from the doorknob. He walked over to the bed and picked up the paper, flipping open the first fold. He sighed again, deeper this time, then squeezed his eyes closed and shoved the unread paper in his jacket pocket. He shook his head, walked back over to the door and left the room.

He made his way slowly down the multiple flights of stairs until he reached the Weasley's kitchen which was crowded with early guests, family and a few of the workers who'd properly set up the garden. Ron, who was sampling some of the food that had been prepared for the reception, was the first to notice Harry's presence.

“Harry!” Ron called, waving his friend over.

Harry walked up to Ron, who shoved a green goop-topped cracker in his mouth with a moan.

“Try one of these!” Ron exclaimed, holding out a cracker to Harry.

“Uh, no thanks.” Harry said with a chuckle, tugging at his bowtie.

“Fine. Your loss. They are so good. I can't stop…”

“Ronald Bilius Weasley!”

Ron jumped, dropping the cracker goop-side down with a splat. Molly Weasley stood with her arms crossed in front of her and a deep shade of red coloring her face.

“You eat one more thing before the reception and, so help me Merlin, I will make sure you never eat again!”

Ron's face paled and Harry couldn't help but laugh. Mrs. Weasley's expression softened.

“Oh Harry, dear! I didn't even see you there! My! You look so handsome.” Mrs. Weasley beamed at him.

“You're looking lovely yourself, Mrs. Weasley.” Harry complimented.

“This old thing?” she said, looking down at the dark blue dress she was wearing and shaking her head. “Don't be silly!”

Ron rolled his eyes.

“Well, there's still so much to do. You boys excuse me now.”

With a nod and an “I'm watching you” glare at her youngest son, Mrs. Weasley turned and was gone. Ron looked longingly at the plates of food and sighed.

“Let's go outside.” he said, desperate to rid the temptation of sneaking just one more sample.

Harry nodded and followed Ron out the backdoor and into the garden. They plopped down on two of the white, wooden chairs facing the altar. Neither spoke.

“Getting some fresh air?” asked a soft, silky voice behind them.

Both boys twisted in their seats to face the speaker.

Luna was standing there in a beautiful light green dress. It was long and airy and caught whimsically on even the slightest breeze. Her long blonde hair was pulled into a messy bun and her signature radish earrings dangled from her earlobes. She smiled and took a seat next to Ron, whose face turned pink. Harry raised his eyebrows suspiciously at his friend, who responded with a scowl.

“How are you, Luna? How was your trip?” asked Harry.

“Lovely. Just lovely!” she mused in a sing-song voice. “Sweden kept father and I quite busy. We never imagined there could be fifteen different species of Wallow-Snout Bizbugs. Before our trip only eleven had ever been recorded!”

Harry and Ron exchanged glances, but smiled and feigned well-practiced awe. Luna's silvery eyes sparkled.

“So, do you suppose Hermione will be coming today?” she asked, completely nonchalant.

Harry's faced turned green. The unexpected force of her name being spoken out loud had rammed him in the stomach. Ron's eyes widened and almost rolled out of his head. Luna appeared unfazed and waited expectantly. She sure had a knack for getting right to the point. Ron cleared his throat.

“Uh…she was invited if that's what you mean.” said Ron evenly. “Other than that…”

Luna tilted her head thoughtfully. Ron shrugged and hastily eyed Harry, who wore a dazed expression. Deciding his pal could use a quick drink, he shoved a hand into his jacket to retrieve his flask, only to realize his pocket was empty.

“What the…?”

Ron looked around on the ground by his feet, searching for the silver container that he guessed must have fallen out unnoticeably. It wasn't there.

“Damn.”

“What is it?” asked Luna, following his gaze to the floor and glancing around.

“Nothing.” Ron sighed. “Nothing. I just must have dropped something.”

Luna nodded dreamily and stood.

“Don't worry.” she smiled. “Whatever it is, it will turn up. Everything always does in the end.”

She looked slowly at both boys, lingering a bit longer on Harry, then gave a soft wave and glided off towards the house, leaving them completely silent.

** 3 YEARS AGO **

There's an old Muggle saying - “when it rains, it pours” and for Hermione, today was the day the floods began. Of course, she was not yet aware of this as she dressed hurriedly in the early morning hours. Harry was still sprawled across their bed snoring lightly, bare-chested; a sheet tangled tightly around his legs. She pulled a black skirt up over her knees to her waist and zippered the back. Then sighing affectionately, she moved over to the bed and shook Harry softly.

“Time to get up.” she cooed.

Harry groaned and grabbed her arm, trying to pull her down onto the bed.

“Oh, no.” she giggled, digging her heels into the floor. “I've got to be at the Ministry in thirty minutes and you've got training in an hour.”

He released her with a moan and buried his face into his pillow.

Harry had just started his first week of Auror training. It was a bit of a chore making sure he got up in the morning, but he was loving it. The entire training period consisted of a six month instruction course followed by three months of field work. It seemed like a long time, but Hermione knew it would be over before they knew it.

“Harry James Potter. Get up!” Hermione yelled, poking him playfully.

Keeping his head face down, Harry stuck out an arm. He groped around on the nightstand bumping his hand against his wand. He grabbed it, but continued searching blindly.

“Other nightstand.” Hermione offered, watching him.

Harry grunted.

“Accio glasses.” he mumbled into the pillow with a flick of his wand.

His glasses flew off the opposite night table and landed on the bed next to him. Sighing in resignation, he slowly sat up. He yawned and slid on his glasses.

“What time is it?”

“Almost eight.” Hermione answered, slipping on her shoes.

“What method of travel will you be employing today?” Harry teased after stretching and rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

Hermione placed a finger thoughtfully to her cheek and tilted her head.

“Car.” she said decidedly. “I've got to pick a few things up after work at Muncy's. I did tell you my parents are coming to dinner this Tuesday, didn't I?”

“No.” Harry said. “I don't think you mentioned it.”

“Well,” Hermione said, walking over and kissing his cheek, “now you know.”

Harry had been intent on buying a car. He'd always dreamed of owning one, since his very early years with the Dursleys. Of course then the dream had been built around a means of escape, but the desire had stuck with him all the same. Having come from a Muggle family, Hermione hadn't opposed the idea. The fact that flying terrified her didn't hurt either. They both enjoyed taking the car from time to time as opposed to using the Floo network or apparition. In fact, the car had come in handy more often than Hermione had expected. Their flat was in a particularly busy section of London and it was difficult to apparate covertly. Also, many of the shops were fairly new and had fireplaces that were either too small or not registered with the Floo network. Muncy's was one of these places. It was a small grocer equal in distance from the Ministry, as it was from the flat. It was a quaint, family-owned establishment and, as far as Hermione was concerned, always had the freshest cut of beef around. Days that required an extra stop after work were days Hermione usually used the car. She liked driving; it allowed her to slow down and it gave her time to think.

“Will you be late tonight?” she asked Harry, who was now getting dressed.

“Nah, I don't believe so.” he said, pulling up a pair of black trousers.

She nodded in acknowledgement.

“Ok, well, I'd better be off. Don't want to be late.”

She bounced over to Harry, planted a kiss on his lips, wished him luck with his training and left the flat.

**********

A lot had changed at the Ministry of Magic since the Second War had ended. Most notably, Kingsley Shacklebolt had been named Minister. It was refreshing to have someone noble and honorable running the Ministry for a change; someone truly interested in improving the world for all magical beings. Hermione walked quickly through the atrium towards the lifts, nodding politely to familiar faces as she passed. As she stepped into the lift, she felt a firm hand grasp her shoulder. She jumped and spun around, coming face to face with Newt Scamander, head of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, and, by extension, her boss.

“Good morning, Ms. Granger. I didn't mean to startle you.” he chuckled.

“Oh, no matter!” she replied, shaking her head. “And good morning to you as well, sir.”

There was a pause in the conversation as the lift doors closed then Scamander spoke again.

“I was wondering if I could have a word. This afternoon perhaps? If you wouldn't mind stopping in my office around, oh, three-fifteen?”

Hermione nodded slowly, feeling a bit of anxiety creep into her throat. It must have shown on her face, because Scamander smiled warmly and shook his head.

“You've done nothing wrong, I assure you.” he comforted.

The lift dinged as it reached its destination and the doors slid open.

“This afternoon. You're office. Three-fifteen.” Hermione confirmed.

Scamander gave her a friendly nod then moved out of the lift. Hermione was frozen, her mind flipping through the possible reasons her boss might want to meet with her. The lift doors began to close again and Scamander stuck an arm out to stop them.

“Isn't this your floor too Ms. Granger?”

Hermione turned a dark shade of red.

“Oh! Yes, of course!”

She scurried out of the lift and down the hall to her office. She slipped inside, closed the door behind her and rested back against it. She sighed and pushed her bushy hair back. There was a loud crack and Hermione yelped. Realizing it was just the sound of an apparition, she immediately scolded herself for being so jumpy.

“Roogle is sorry. He did not mean to startle Ms.'Mione.”

“No need to apologize, Roogle. I'm just a bit on edge.” Hermione told the small elf.

Hermione worked for the Office of House-Elf Relocation. In fact, she headed up that branch of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. She had been pleasantly surprised by the interest in regulating House-Elf rights following the Second War and was proud of the strides that had been made. Most House-Elves remained with their respective families, as they were only familiar and experienced with that type of work - but now they were no longer considered property and could leave at any time they pleased, especially if they felt they were being treated poorly. House-Elves could now own things and, in a recent success, a few had even been approved for personal vaults in Gringotts. Some did leave their families and take jobs elsewhere. Roogle was one such Elf. He worked for the Ministry, in Hermione's Department. He helped where he could - making deliveries or retrieving files. She loved seeing him around. It was a reminder of all the progress that had been made.

Hermione tried to keep herself busy, tackling a large pile of paperwork that had been growing on her desk for almost three weeks and making a few phone calls she'd been putting off. Though, her eyes still glanced at the clock at least once every twenty minutes as she waited for the afternoon to arrive. The day dragged, but finally the hour hand of the wall clock struck three. She decided to stop in the bathroom to freshen up before heading to Scamander's office.

As she pushed the door of the fourth floor woman's bathroom open she was struck by a twinge in her stomach. It wasn't particularly painful, more annoying than anything else. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Just relax! Scamander said it wasn't anything to worry about. She tried to calm herself as she glanced at her reflection and brushed her hair down with her fingers. Once she was convinced she looked the she best possibly could under the circumstances, she left the bathroom and headed down the hall to Scamander's office. When she reached the door, she hesitated and took a deep breath before knocking softly. She waited, unsure if her knock had been heard.

“Come in.” her boss's familiar voiced called.

She opened the door and walked in. Scamander was sitting behind a large, dark colored desk that was cluttered with books and papers. The room was bright; sunshine poured in through three, floor-to-ceiling windows behind him. Two other men stood to his left. One she immediately recognized as Kingsley Shacklebolt. He gave her a quick wink. The other face was less familiar, but after searching her brain for a few seconds, she identified him as Rueben Groglin, the head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. She wondered what they were doing in Scamander's office when she was supposed to be meeting with him.

“Ms. Granger.” her boss nodded. “Would you like to sit down?”

He motioned to a large, leather chair in front of his desk. She declined, feeling too antsy to sit, but moved closer.

“Well, of course you're wondering why I asked to speak to you.” he began.

Hermione shook her head expectantly. There was a sudden, second, stronger ache in her stomach. She ignored it.

“This is Rueben Groglin. And, of course, Mr. Shacklebolt.” Scamander said, motioning to the men beside him. “As you know, I've been tracking your progress with the House-Elf Relocation division. You've really done a wonderful job. You've exceeded my expectations - and trust me, from your N.E.W.T. scores and the recommendations of your old professors, I had high expectations.”

Hermione bowed her head in thanks. The ache in her stomach was starting to cross over bothersome and into painful. She shifted her weight, hoping a change in position might help. Scamander continued.

“I'm sure you're completely aware of how well you're doing. That isn't the real point of this talk. What I do want to talk about…what I want to offer you is a new position within the Ministry.”

Hermione's eyes widened with interest, but her stomach lurched and she had to fight the urge to wince. She glanced longingly at the big, leather chair next to her, wishing she'd taken a seat when Scamander had offered.

“Groglin here needs a new department head; a collogue per say. Someone interested in reforming pro-pureblood laws, someone interested in helping break the stigma attached to Muggle-borns. Kingsley here suggested you. You're a hard worker, Granger, and I hear this is an issue close to your heart.”

Hermione did everything she could to stop from squealing out in joy.

“Wow.” she beamed. “I don't know what to say…”

“Say you'll take the job!” Groglin was now speaking. “Of course you'll be getting an increase in your pay check and a small staff to work below you, but we can iron out the details at a later date.”

“Obviously, if you'd like, I'd love for you to stay involved with the House-Elf Relocation project as well.” Scamander interjected. “You've set up an amazing system during your short time working here; a system that will stay in place for many years. You would be given access to all files and still be able to oversee what's going on. It may tack a few hours onto your work week, but again, that's up to you.”

“Yes! Yes to all of it!” Hermione announced, clapping her hands together. “Thank you! Thank you so much.”

All three men nodded, pleased with her response. Hermione's stomach pitched again, but she was intent on not letting it ruin the moment. She swallowed hard.

“Well, that's it!” Groglin exclaimed. “We'll be in touch, Ms. Granger.”

He held out his hand. Hermione moved to grab it and braced an unexpected wave of nausea. Oh, no. She shook his hand quickly and looked back at the door desperately.

“If you have any big, outstanding affairs through the Office of House-Elf Relocation, I suggest you deal with them as soon as possible. Losing you will be quite a blow to the Department.” Scamander remarked with a sigh.

Hermione wanted to assure him that she would remain involved, but couldn't unclamp her mouth, for fear of being sick all over her boss's (was it now former boss's?) desk. Instead, she nodded and gave him a tight-lipped smile.

“If that's all, I should be getting back to my office.” Shacklebolt said, shaking hands with the other two men. As he excused himself out he patted Hermione's shoulder and whispered “Well done”. Hermione wanted to thank him, but could only muster another strong swallow.

“That's all then. You can get back to your office as well, Ms. Granger.”

Scamander smiled and Groglin bowed slightly. She shook her head gratefully, turned, and tried her best not to literally dash for the door.

She had just barely made it before her stomach gave a final heave and she got sick violently in the first stall of the fourth floor woman's bathroom.

*************

Hermione stared at the clock, her heart thudding wildly in her chest. Please, no. Please. She silently prayed as the hour hand struck three. Her leg bounced anxiously. It's all in your head. She picked up the quill lying on her desk and twirled it between her fingers. Her eyes closed. And then she felt it - a light twinge deep in the pit of her stomach; so soft that you would only ever notice it if you were waiting for it. Her heart dropped.

It had been a week since she'd been offered a new position with the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. A week from the first day she'd gotten sick in the fourth floor woman's bathroom. And since then, everyday, for seven days in a row, she'd gotten sick in the fourth floor woman's bathroom, like clockwork, at three in the afternoon. Every day, save for the two days over the weekend where she'd gotten sick in the flat bathroom instead. She stood and walked miserably out into the hallway, waiting for the familiar retching of her stomach and the watery, nauseous feeling to fill her mouth.

** THE WEDDING **

“Do you think she'll come?” Harry asked softly.

Ron sighed. The boys were still sitting out in the garden, staring at the altar. They had been silent since Luna had left. Ron hadn't been sure what to say. He still wasn't. He shrugged.

“I don't know, mate. I'm sorry; I just…don't know.”

Harry nodded and twiddled his thumbs. Ron decided to take a chance.

“Do you want her to come?”

Harry opened his mouth and then slowly closed it again. He closed his eyes and tilted his head back. When he opened them again they were glassy.

“I don't know.” he said, shaking his head. “I really don't know.”

He looked desperately at Ron, who wished more than anything he had something remotely comforting to say. He patted his friend on the shoulder.

“That's okay. It's okay not to know.”

[A/N]: For those of you who **think** you know where this is going (especially those disappointed by the thought) - please give it a chance. I promise I'm much more creative than you're expecting. I write stories that I hope stand out - not recycled storylines that readers have seen too many times to count.

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