It Was All Just A Dream

A/N – this came from a suggestion of a poster on one of the threads in the forums ages ago – sorry, I can’t remember who it was but it planted the idea in my head. Trouble is, I’m not one hundred per cent happy with how this turned out. Some will find Harry, and most probably Hermione, slightly out of character but I guess I’ve given Hermione a bit of me in her this time round – especially in later chapters. Anyway, I hope you enjoy.

“He’ll be alright,” murmured Ginny.

As Harry looked at her, he lowered his hand absent-mindedly and touched the lightning scar on his forehead.

“I know he will.”

The scar had not pained Harry for nineteen years. All was well.

From behind him he could hear Ron and Hermione starting to argue.

“No, Ron,” Hermione hissed, “like I told you before, Harry’s right here!”

Harry was confused, surely Ron could see him too – after all, they had just stood together and watched their children go to Hogwarts. Suddenly Kings Cross began to fade into blackness, sending a slither of fear through Harry. Something was wrong…his family were in danger!

“Bloody hell, Hermione,” Ron voice came out of the darkness, sounding more irritated than afraid, “he won’t care – he’s fast asleep!”

Ah, that makes more sense. It’s just a dream, Harry thought to himself, smiling with relief, just a dream.

His relief quickly disappeared, however, when he realised that Ron and Hermione were planning on doing something that he really didn’t want to witness. He needed to say something.

“No, he’s not,” he managed to utter, opening his eyes to see the familiar drapes of his bed in the Gryffindor dorms.

“Harry!” Hermione cried and was at his side in seconds, handing him his glasses from his bedside cabinet.

“Finally,” Ron added as he came next to Hermione, “you’re awake. Welcome back, mate.”

“I could try and sleep a bit longer,” he offered with a smirk, “let you guys do whatever you were wanting to do…”

“Oh no, that’s fine,” Hermione said in a rush, blushing terribly.

“Yeah, okay,” Ron said at the same time, earning a glare from Hermione. Harry just laughed, the happiness from his dream still wrapped around him.

“You seem rather chipper,” Ron quipped, ignoring Hermione.

“I was having this really…weird dream,” Harry told him, still smiling.

“Well, it must’ve been weird in a good way” Hermione said, perching on the edge of his bed, “what with the grin on your face.”

“Yeah, it was,” he admitted, then decided to take caution to the wind and tell all, “we were all at Kings Cross, seeing our kids off to Hogwarts. You two were married…”

“Ron and I?” Hermione squeaked, “married?”

“Really?” Ron grinned with satisfaction.

“Yep, and your daughter, Rose, was going to Hogwarts for the first time…”

“Rose?” Ron screwed his nose up.

“I like Rose,” Hermione stated, glancing irritably at Ron before looking back to Harry, “what else, Harry?”

“Well,” Harry continued, thinking hard as he tried to remember, “my oldest son, James, had already spent a year there, I think, because it was my middle son’s fist year…”

“I bet he was called Sirius,” Ron cut in with a satisfied smirk.

“No, he was Albus Severus…”

“Albus Severus?” Ron blurted, his smile gone, “you must be joking! You’d name your kid after a man that tormented you for years? That’s just mental!”

“It was just a dream,” Harry retorted defensively, “besides, Albus isn’t that bad, is it?” He looked to Hermione when he said this, her frown disappearing when she realised he was watching her.

“Actually, I agree with Ron on this one, Harry,” she told him gently, “I understand why your subconscious gave your son that name. The realisation that Professor Snape had been on our side all along and had a friendship with your mother would have made him important to you. But, gosh, to give a child a reference to that man?”

“Yeah, he was a bit of a prat, wasn’t he?” he agreed slightly more subdued.

“Remembering Professor Dumbledore is understandable as well,” she continued, “but personally, I think a name should belong to the child and not be a reminder of someone we’ve loved and lost.”

“Considering my daughter’s name was Lily, I think my subconscious was well and truly stuck into remembering who I’ve lost,” Harry sighed with a small, sad smile, “James, Albus and Lily.”

“We’re there any others, Harry?” Hermione asked, breaking the small silence that followed.

“Yeah,” he answered, grinning once more, “your youngest sons’ name was Hugo…”

“Bloody hell, Harry,” Ron muttered, “you are never having any input in naming anything of mine! Hugo? What kind of name is that?”

“…and Bill and Fluer’s daughter was Victoria or Vicky or something like that,” Harry continued, thinking, “oh, and Malfoy was there too…”

“Malfoy?” Ron cried.

“…and his son had a really weird name,” Harry shrugged, looking back at his friends.

“Did we have jobs?” Ron questioned excitedly, quickly forgetting all about Draco Malfoy.

“No,” Harry frowned as he tried to remember, “but Neville was the Herbology professor at Hogwarts. Ginny asked James to give him our love…”

“So Ginny was your wife?” Hermione asked, quietly.

“Yeah,” Harry replied, aware of the goofy grin that covered his face plus the heat of his blush.

“That’s brilliant, Harry,” Hermione said with such a weariness that Harry looked at her – really looked at her.

The glow from his dream quickly disappeared as he noticed how pale Hermione was, the dark smudges under her red, puffy eyes quite prominent. It was then the memories of what had happened before he had woken in his familiar bed dreaming his first ever dream of a happy future, hit him.

There had been a battle.

People had died.

Fred had died.

He quickly looked to Ron.

“How long have I been up here?” he asked his friend.

“You’ve been asleep for three days, mate,” Ron told him and Harry looked at him in shock.

“Three days?” he repeated, glancing to Hermione for confirmation.

“We came here after you spoke to Professor Dumbledore’s portrait,” she confirmed, “Ron and I decided to let you sleep. You…you had a few nightmares, but they didn’t wake you…”

“I don’t remember any nightmares,” Harry interrupted, thinking, trying to remember. When he couldn’t, he looked back at his friends, “what’s been going on?”

Ron and Hermione exchanged looks and it seemed Hermione drew the short straw, as she took a deep breath, then looked back to Harry.

“I…we watched over you,” she explained, “and we put wards around this room so no-one could enter. Everyone seemed to want a part of you but we thought you just needed some time…”

“Like Hermione said,” Ron added, “you were having nightmares and stuff, but you didn’t wake up. Physically, you seemed alright. We thought it was because of all the things you’d gone through.”

“Kingsley has started the rebuilding,” Hermione continued, “he’s secured Azkaban so that the many Death Eaters they’ve caught had somewhere to go. The Ministry is back under control but is in a real mess.

“Most people have left Hogwarts with only some of the teachers and the pupils that have no…no families to go to, staying.”

“Mum and dad have stayed,” Ron admitted sadly, “we’re one of the families that have nowhere to go and mum’s helping Professor McGonagall fix the school…”

“How are you parents, Ron?” Harry asked quietly, “and…and George?”

“I think George is still in shock or something,” Ron answered with a deep sigh, “he doesn’t really do much. Bill and Charlie are looking out for him, making sure he eats and stuff. They’re re-building The Burrow so we don’t see them that much. Perce and Ginny are looking out for mum who just won’t stop…”

“Won’t stop?”

“She keeps working non-stop,” Hermione added, “especially since she found out Fleur is pregnant…”

“Victoria,” Harry thought out loud, thinking once more of his dream only to have his thoughts brought back when Ron started talking again.

“The funerals start on Saturday,” he said, “Remus and Tonks are first. They’ve hidden away Dumbledore’s tomb until you woke…”

“The Elder Wand!” Harry cried suddenly, remembering.

“It’s safe, Harry,” Hermione told him quickly.

“Yeah,” Ron continued, “Hermione’s hidden it somewhere. Won’t tell me where…”

“That’s because you had started acting like a git around it, Ron,” Hermione growled, “we agreed it was for the best!”

“I know, I know,” Ron grumbled at her before looking back to Harry, “look, now you’re awake, there’s heaps of people who want to see you – McGonagall, Hagrid, Ginny…”

Ron let Ginny’s name float around a bit and for some reason, Harry felt uncomfortable. He thought, especially after his dream, that seeing Ginny would be the first thing he’d want to do – to touch her and make sure she was real. But he knew she’d have questions that he wasn’t ready to answer, or expect strength and comfort from him that he wasn’t capable of giving.

“You don’t have to, though,” Hermione said, and once more Harry glanced up at her, “it’s up to you.”

“I…I don’t really want to see anyone at the moment,” he admitted hesitantly.

“Thought you might say that,” Ron snorted, then asked, “are you hungry?”

“Yeah, actually,” Harry said after a moments thought, startled at the sudden change of subject.

“Good, ‘cause I’m starving,” Ron announced, “I’ll go and get us all something to eat and let the family know you’re awake. They’ve been worried sick.”

Harry watched Ron go, knowing that he would have to face the world again soon especially now that people knew he had woken. He sighed deeply.

“You’re going to need to speak to Ginny, Harry,” Hermione offered, crossing her legs under her, getting more comfortable, “she’s been quite frantic.”

“I know,” he agreed, thinking, “I thought it’d be the first thing I’d want to do, especially since most of last year all I wanted was to see her…”

“But it’s not?”

“No,” Harry stated, looking directly at her, “how are the Weasley’s really, Hermione?”

“To be honest,” she told him, “I’ve spent most of my time up here, with you. Hiding away, I guess. I’ve spoken to Ginny a few times and it’s like it hasn’t really sunk in. The hardest thing is you see Fred in George, you know? Every time I see George, I just want to cry.”

Harry sat up and reached for Hermione’s hand, taking it in his as her eyes began to fill up with tears.

“It’s been so horrible, Harry,” she sobbed quietly, “Mrs Weasley is trying to forget by keeping herself busy; helping families find new homes, organising help and care for those who need it, overseeing the re-building of the castle with Professor McGonagall. It’s like she’s absolutely everywhere! If…if Mr Weasley wasn’t there to calm her down and make her stop, she’d have worn herself out by now.

“Ginny has to make sure her mother eats and looks out for her and she hates it! Plus finding out that Fleur was pregnant…Mrs Weasley won’t let Fleur out of her sight.

“Mr Weasley has been incredible. He’s been working with Kingsley and the others at the Ministry, trying to get things back into some sort of order. But he also keeps checking up on his family, making sure they’re doing okay.”

“How ‘bout Ron?”

“Ron?” she gave an un-Hermione like snort, “he seems to think the best way for him to forget his loss is by snogging me.”

“Hence the conversation when I woke,” Harry grinned.

“Yes,” she blushed furiously, “sorry about that.”

“Don’t be,” Harry continued, his grin fading into a semi-forced smile, “you two are together now. It’s what couples do.”

“Ron and I aren’t together, Harry,” Hermione told him, taking her hands from his.

“What? Why?” he blurted out, genuinely confused, “I thought, after the kiss before – everything – happened, that you two finally sorted yourselves out.”

“It’s complicated…”

“I don’t think Ron thinks it’s complicated,” Harry frowned, watching Hermione as she stood and turned away from him, “Ron doesn’t realise that you and he aren’t together, does he?”

“There hasn’t been the right time…”

“Hermione!”

“Don’t, Harry!” she cried, turning back to him, “don’t make me feel even worse than I already do! I still haven’t sorted everything out in my head and…and it’s complicated! I will tell him, I will. Anyway, I’ve spent most of the last three days worrying about you!”

They glared at each other but at the sight of her red, glassy eyes he realised he didn’t want to upset her any more.

“I’m sorry,” he apologised – not really sure if he was apologising for upsetting her or making her worry. She just nodded her acceptance and then sat back down at the foot of his bed, her arms wrapped around herself in some sort of comforting embrace. Harry sighed deeply.

“Has Ron talked to you?” he asked after a moments pause, “about…about Fred?”

“No, not really,” Hermione answered, looking at a spot on the floor, “I’ve tried to get him to talk about it but he won’t,” she let out a small chuckle and glanced at Harry, “good wife I’d make, huh. I can’t believe you dreamed I married Ron.”

“He really fancies you, Hermione,” Harry said seriously, “he has for ages…”

“Has he told you this?”

“Well, no, not directly,” Harry admitted, “but…but when he destroyed the locket, Voldemort’s soul kinda…”

“Made him think that you and I were together,” Hermione cut in, smiling a small smile, “Ron told me. The stupid thing is, he told me that his fear was that I liked you more than him, but that you said that I was like a sister to you and that made him feel better. Yet he never has said to me that he fancies me, he just assumes that I realise this. I would’ve thought his little self-help book would’ve told him that he needed to have the courage to tell the girl he likes how he felt. Maybe he just skipped that part.”

“You know about the book?”

“It fell out of his bag when we shifted in here,” she sniffed, then glanced at Harry, “you knew about the book?”

“He gave me a copy for my birthday last year,” Harry shrugged, “haven’t looked at it, actually.”

“That’s because you don’t need to.”

“So, pretty weird dream, huh?” he said quickly, changing the subject, aware that he was once again blushing.

“Depends, I guess,” she replied, once more getting herself more comfortable, “I think it’s brilliant that you are finally seeing yourself with a future. Even from the little you’ve told me, there’s some great symbolism there.”

“Like what?”

“Well, Kings Cross is where you experienced the wonder of Hogwarts for the first time,” she explained, “it was where the real start of your new life began. You also chose Kings Cross as your place of safety when you…died.”

“True. I didn’t think of that.”

“And of course you saw all the people that mattered to you the most. You fancy Ginny, so she was your wife, and you named your children after people who were special to you but no longer here. You wanted to ensure both Ron and I were still in your life, so you had us together and still an important part of your world. I must admit, the fact that Hagrid, Sirius or Remus didn’t play a part…”

“Albus was visiting Hagrid on the Friday and Teddy was mentioned. He had been caught by James kissing Victoria, or whatever her name was,” Harry paused, his eyes widening, “oh God – Teddy!”

“Mrs Tonks is looking after him,” Hermione answered his unasked question, “and has vowed to raise him as her own. She’s pretty devastated, what with losing her husband as well, but Fleur is staying with her and therefore, in extension, so is Mrs Weasley. You don’t need to worry about him.”

“But I’m his godfather!”

“You’re also a seventeen year old boy, Harry,” she admonished, “no-one expects you to look after an infant. You can still be an important part of his life. I think Mrs Tonks would appreciate that.”

Harry just nodded, realising the enormity of the changes that were taking place around him. He’d have to face them, he knew, but he really didn’t want to.

“Your dream made you happy,” she continued softly, “and if anyone deserves some happiness Harry, you do. Hang on to that.”

He looked at her and she looked back, their eyes locking, and he saw something flicker across her face that he hadn’t seen before. She was unabashed and didn’t turn away from him, her lips caught in a gentle smile. The passing thought that she looked quite pretty crossed his mind when the door slammed open and Ron bumbled in.

“Right, here you go,” he announced loudly, breaking both Harry and Hermione out of whatever spell they were under, both turning to Ron at the same time, “food for everyone. Kreacher wanted to serve you himself, but I told him not to bother. The house elves have been really busy helping fix the castle so they’re pretty knackered.”

“That was sweet, Ron,” Hermione beamed, “see, you can think of others.”

“Why does that always surprise you?” Ron grumbled and Harry couldn’t help but smile, “you can give it a rest, too, Potter.”

“What?” Harry protested weakly, and stuffed another piece of pie into his mouth.

“Anyway, Ginny was right peeved that you didn’t want to see her,” Ron carried on between mouthfuls, “I wouldn’t be surprised if she’ll try and find a way in.”

“I do want to see her,” Harry sighed, “just not right now.”

Ron and Hermione shared a look but stayed silent. Harry just put aside his empty plate and reached for the bowl of treacle pudding that was sitting there, waiting for him. They ate in silence, all lost in their own thoughts, which made them all jump when a warning bell began chiming over the door.

“Someone’s trying to break the wards,” Hermione stated matter-of-factly as she put her empty bowl down, “it’s probably Ginny. I’ll go and have a word.”

Both Harry and Ron watched her go, the bell stopping as soon as the dorm’s door had shut. The silence hung around them for a moment before Ron spoke.

“What did you and Hermione talk about?” he asked and although he sounded casual, Harry could hear a bit of concern in his voice.

“About what’s been going on,” Harry answered, “and my dream, mostly.”

“Me and Hermione married, huh?” Ron chuckled, “the rate things are going, I reckon it’s only gonna be a dream.”

“What do you mean?”

“I thought after she kissed me, you know, before everything went pear-shaped,” Ron began, staring nervously at his hands, “that I’d finally won her over, you know? But then it all got mental and you died, then came back and that stupid wand…every time I try to get closer to her, she just pushes me away.”

“Have you told her how you feel?”

“She must know how I feel,” he muttered, “I’ve spent enough bloody effort changing for her!”

“You need to tell her, Ron,” Harry told his friend, then frowned, thinking, “what ’dya mean that you’ve changed for her?”

“You know, been more attentive, listening to her, not telling her she’s mental all the time, even when I think she is quite barmy,” he shrugged, “she seems to like that kind of rubbish.”

“It’s not rubbish…”

“Actually, you’re right, it isn’t,” Ron slumped down further, “I didn’t think it would take this much effort. It shouldn’t be this much effort. In fact, I’m thinking about packing it in…”

“Give up on her?”

“Yeah,” Ron looked at Harry, “what ’dya think?”

Knowing that Hermione was ready to do just that, Harry was about to tell Ron that perhaps it was for the best when the object of their conversation walked into the room.

“Harry, Ginny’s here,” she said quickly, “and I really think you ought to talk to her. I know you don’t want to and you must be getting tired, but…”

Harry leaned back against the bedhead and closed his eyes. He was starting to feel tired again, even though he had been asleep for three days. He wondered if he’d have another dream when he went back to sleep – and he realised if he ever wanted that dream to become a reality, he needed to talk to Ginny. Opening his eyes, he nodded his acceptance to Hermione, who beckoned Ron to follow her, and they both left.

Closing his eyes once more, he tried to work out what he was going to say to Ginny, what part of his story was he ready to let her know.

“Harry!”

He heard her cry and opened his eyes in time to see Ginny fly at him, pulling him into a breathtaking embrace. When she finally pulled away from him, he could see her face and noticed the sheen of tears on her eyes and just how tired she looked – but she was grinning at him, beaming at him really, and he tried to smile back.

As he looked into her face, a face that he had dreamed about and thought about so often over the past year, he expected to feel…more. Something was missing, and he didn’t know what it was.

“Hey, Gin,” he offered as greeting and she smiled even more.

“Oh, I knew you wanted to see me,” she exclaimed, holding his hands in hers, “when Ron told me this rubbish about you wanting some time, I knew he was fibbing! I mean, we haven’t had time together alone for absolutely ages!”

“I am still pretty tired, Ginny…” Harry tried to tell her, but was halted when she kissed him. He found himself reacting to her touch the only way any teenage boy would, returning it with equal passion, enjoying the feel of her on him.

When she straddled him, he suddenly remembered the last time they had been this close – his last birthday. Before the wedding and the attack by Death Eaters. Before the Horcrux hunt where he had lived hand to mouth with only Hermione and Ron for company. Before he faced Voldemort. Before Remus, Tonks and Fred died.

This wasn’t right.

He pushed Ginny off of him, breaking the kiss with little warning, making her look at him with surprised hurt.

“What is it?” she asked, concerned, “what’s wrong?”

“This isn’t right,” he frowned, bringing his knees towards himself, hiding his ‘excitement’.

“What?” she cried, “why?”

“Because…because we should be talking or something,” he tried to explain, not too sure himself what he wanted to do, “we haven’t seen each other in ages and so much has gone on…”

“But that’s why I don’t want to talk,” she frowned at him, “I’ve really missed you, Harry and I’ve had enough of thinking about what’s happened. I just want to forget!”

“So the only reason you wanted to see me was to forget about Fred?” Harry asked quietly.

“No!” she exclaimed, once more taking his hands in hers, “no. I wanted to see you, I’ve wanted to see you since you came up here but Ron and Hermione wouldn’t let me! Oh Harry, I’ve been so worried! It should’ve been me here with you, not Hermione! I mean, you’re my boyfriend…”

“No, I’m not,” Harry said before he could stop himself. They looked at each other and Harry could see a new sheen of tears in her eyes as she released his hands, “look,” he carried on quickly, trying to make things right, “I’m still really tired, Ginny, and things…things are a real mess for me right now. I’ll…I’ll talk to you later, alright?”

“Sure,” she replied, getting off the bed, “I’ll see you around, Harry.”

He watched her go feeling confused and suddenly very alone. He didn’t understand why he just turned her away since he had wanted her so much for so long.

Things had changed.

A/N - thanks for the reviews. It’s always nerve wracking posting a new story, especially when you’re reading some really good fictions here on Portkey, but the comments have all been really positive – so thanks!

Chapter 2

He hated the funerals, but strangely it was the funeral of Colin Creevy that Harry hated the most. It was two weeks after he had stood at the foot of Professor Dumbledore’s tomb as it was reinstated to its proper state; two weeks after he had stood stoic with Ron beside a crying Hermione and Ginny while they watched Remus and Tonks being buried. And just under two weeks since he had stood with the Weasley family as Fred was laid to rest.

The rest of the funerals had progressed at a numbingly regular rate to the point where Harry couldn’t attend them all. But he attended Colin’s. He stood at the back on his own, remembering his fellow Gryffindor with a mixture of fondness and guilt. The family were celebrating Colin’s life more than focusing on his death, each story making Harry’s guilt even more gut wrenching.

When the funeral was over, he made to leave quickly but Mr Creevy came up to him and said they wanted to give him something of Colin’s. Embarrassed, he made his way to the family home and waited, smiling a fixed smile and accepted with polite graciousness the thanks given by other mourners for ‘saving them’. He was handed a reasonably large box of photos that the Creevy’s thought he would like. They had removed all the photos of the family and such and because Colin had always spoken so highly of Harry that they thought he should have the rest.

This was why he was now sitting on his bed with the box in front of him, psyching himself to take off the lid and see what was inside. Colin’s funeral had been two days ago and today was Harry’s eighteenth birthday. He was due to meet Hermione in a couple of hours so they could go to the new Burrow together to celebrate, Hermione having moved back home to be with her recently returned parents.

He didn’t know why he needed to look at the photos now, but he did. Sitting crossed legged on his bed, he took a deep breath and removed the lid from the box – inside were hundred of images, all moving. Harry began pulling them out, one by one, and looking at them, every now and then smiling at a face or a memory.

“Harry, are you nearly ready to go?”

Hermione’s voice and the tap on his door startled him slightly until he realised that two hours had nearly gone and she was here to collect him.

“You can come in, Hermione,” he called out, still picking up and looking at the photos one by one. She popped her head in, frowning when she saw him, then made her way to where he was sitting.

“What’s all of this?” she asked, sitting on the other side of the bed and looking at the piles in front of him.

“Colin Creevy’s photos,” he answered absently, putting a picture of Lavender and Parvati onto one of the piles, “his parents thought I should have them.”

“Oh Harry,” Hermione sighed as she picked up a photo of a smiling Remus and looked at it sadly, “have you been looking at these all morning?”

“Yeah,” he shrugged, “there’s heaps of them. I didn’t realise just how many he took. Most of them seem to be when no-one really noticed.”

“My, there are quite a few of you,” she observed, flicking through the biggest pile, “then again, he was one of your biggest fans.”

“And look where it got him,” Harry snapped as he dropped a photo of someone he didn’t know on another pile.

“I know,” she sighed before gasping a little ‘oh’ at a photo of Professor Dumbledore.

“I can’t go to anymore funerals, Hermione,” he said suddenly, pushing the now empty box away from him, “I can’t put up with any more people thanking me for saving them or some such nonsense. I’m sick of it.”

“I bet,” she tried to smile, glancing up at him and the smile dying on her lips, “it’s been horrid and it must be even worse for you. People will understand if you don’t attend any more funerals and if they don’t – who cares?”

“Really?” he asked with a bit of confusion, “you agree with me? No fight? No ‘you must do your duty’? No telling me that I deserve the thanks or whatever?”

“No,” she stated shortly, “though you do deserve everyone’s thanks. Honestly Harry, you need to start doing things for you, not because you think that others expect it of you. You don’t have to do that any more, you’re free,” she paused as she looked at the photo of Ginny he had put to one side, “this is lovely – she really is quite pretty, isn’t she?”

Harry just nodded and watched as she put the photo back on the bed and noticed the other pictures he had selected. She picked up the image of her and himself sitting on the couches in front of the Gryffindor fire, their heads bent together as they talked. Harry had liked the photo as the firelight seemed to dance off Hermione’s hair and they both looked so intent with their conversation that it looked somewhat peaceful.

A small frown crossed her face as she looked at the picture, before letting go a sigh and gently placing it back on the bed.

“We should get going,” she said softly, standing, “are you ready?”

“Sure,” he replied, “I just need to get my shoes.”

“Happy birthday, by the way,” she added as if an afterthought; Harry smiled his thanks.

She waited patiently for him, seemingly lost in her thoughts. Harry left her to it, his own mind returning to the many images he’d seen throughout the morning. All reflection disappeared, however, when they arrived at the Burrow, both quickly caught up in the noise and bustle that is the Weasley’s as they celebrated Harry’s birthday.

The day was beautiful and hot, and it wasn’t long before Harry, Ginny, Ron and Hermione found themselves lounging in the backyard in lazy contemplation. Ginny was laying down with her head in Harry’s lap as he leaned back on his arms and watched his two best friends interact opposite him. Hermione had been very quiet all day and Harry was concerned. Ron didn’t seem to notice.

“So,” the redhead began, squinting into the sunlight, “dad was saying there’s heaps of jobs’ going at the Ministry, Hermione, a lot of them temporary until things get sorted. Are you going to try out for one of those?”

“No,” she answered curtly.

“Whatd’ya mean, ‘no’?” Ron grunted, “you have to do something, even if it’s only for a little bit.”

“Why would I only need a temporary job?” Hermione asked, glaring at Ron.

“Well,” Ron carried on, oblivious of the mess he was getting himself into, “I mean, once we get married and have kids, you won’t need to work…”

Harry felt himself flinch as he watched Hermione turn to Ron, her face red. Ginny bolted upright with a look of unrepressed glee as she readied herself for the mayhem that they both knew was going to happen.

“You think,” Hermione spat, her voice low and controlled, “that I want to give up my chance at a career? My chance to make a difference? Just so I can marry you and have your babies?”

“Er…yeah?” Ron said tentatively, glancing to Harry for support, finally realising he was in trouble.

“Do you know me, Ronald Weasley?” Hermione growled, getting to her feet, “do you have any clue about me at all?”

“Sure…”

“No you don’t!” she yelled, her anger finally getting the best of her, “for goodness sake Ron, you haven’t even told me you like me! You’re planning my life, thinking I’m going to walk away from all the hard work I’ve done so I can raise your children and you haven’t even had the bollocks to ask me out! You’re unbelievable!”

“You know I fancy you!” he yelled back, scrambling to her feet and facing her, “everyone knows I fancy you! Bloody hell, even Harry dreamt that you and I are going to get married!”

“It was a dream!”

“So?” he shouted, “it might as well be real – everyone expects it! Harry marries Ginny, you marry me, just like his dream! And what’s wrong with thinking you’ll look after the kids – mum did it!”

“I am not your mother!”

“Well, that’s good, because otherwise me thinking that you look rather pretty when your hair kinda bounces all around your head would make me a bit…sick.”

Both Ron and Hermione’s head snapped towards the grinning George as he walked towards them, Harry and Ginny hurriedly standing as they, too, looked at the newcomer.

“What?” Ron snarled, still angry.

“I said, little brother,” George continued jovially, putting his arm across Ron’s shoulders and guiding him away from Hermione, “that I’m glad that Hermione isn’t your mother, because that would make her my mother and that would make all the times I’ve thought Hermione was rather lovely just plain wrong. Blimmey, I would’ve thought you would’ve heard me loud and clear.

“Anyway, the birthday nosh is ready. Come on, you lot.”

Hermione fell into step behind George and Ron, George’s compliments not enough to pull her out of her foul temper. Harry and Ginny came up the rear, walking hand in hand.

“Did you really dream that you and I were married?” Ginny asked after a moment.

“Yeah,” Harry admitted, not looking at her.

“That’s really sweet,” she cooed, hanging onto his arm tighter. Harry didn’t have a chance to say anything more as they were suddenly engulfed into the family, but Ginny couldn’t stop smiling at him throughout the meal. Harry, however, was more concerned with Hermione and Ron – both stony faced and solemn. This latest argument had been brewing for a while and in a way, Harry was glad it had finally come to a head.

“So Hermione,” Mrs Weasley started, and Harry’s attention latched onto her, “have you made plans yet, dear? What with Ron working with George, Ginny going back to Hogwarts and Harry starting Auror training, we still don’t know what’s happening with you!”

“Actually,” Hermione answered politely, ignoring Ron’s glare, “I’m going to university…”

A chorus of ‘university?’, ‘what’s university?’ went around the table as the wizarding folk were not used to the term. Harry, however, was. Hermione looked over the table to him and he could see a mixture of determination and guilt in her eyes. Still looking at him, she began to explain to the others.

“University is like a Muggle school for higher learning,” she said briskly, “I’ll be studying law and politics in Oxford so I can live at home with my mum and dad.”

“You’re going to live like a Muggle?” Ron asked, shocked.

“Yes,” she replied, finally glancing to Ron, “though I will be working in the Ministry once a week. Professor McGonagall and Mr Shacklebolt helped me sort it all out.”

“So, you’re going back to school?” Ginny piped up.

“Yes.”

“For how long?” Ron nearly spat at her.

“Four years.”

“I don’t believe this!” Ron snarled, standing as if to storm away.

“Sit down Ron,” Mr Weasley ordered sternly before looking more gently to Hermione, “that sounds like a brilliant idea. Will you be returning to the wizarding world once you’ve finished?”

“I’m hoping to,” she carried on, once more looking to Harry while Ron slumped down in his chair, “I thought I could do the most good by learning how to negotiate and such. It doesn’t seem to be a common trait within the Ministry.”

“No, no it’s not,” Mr Weasley agreed, nodding with understanding.

“Well, I think it’s a brilliant idea,” Ginny smiled, “good for you, Hermione.”

Harry knew Hermione was waiting for him to say something, to let her know he approved of her decision – but he wasn’t sure he did. It would take her away from him. He knew that was selfish and unfair. He was soon to go into Auror training which meant he was going to be cut off from everyone while he followed his dreams – why couldn’t Hermione do the same?

He was still debating with himself when Ginny brought up the idea of a friendly game of Quidditch, Ron quickly agreeing. Bill and Fleur had already gone, with both Charlie and George declining for various reasons. Harry jumped at the chance, knowing that flying would take his mind off of things plus it had been so long since he had flown for pure enjoyment.

Which meant they were one short. Ron started cajoling Hermione into playing and after a moment or two, Harry joined in. She reluctantly agreed and soon it was Ron and Ginny versus Harry and Hermione.

As soon as he was up in the air, Harry felt all his troubles fading away. Even on a borrowed broom, he was able to fly fast and easy. It wasn’t long into the game, however, when he realised that Ron was still incredibly angry.

It was well known that Hermione hated to fly and usually that was taken into consideration whenever she joined in any flying activities. Today Ron wasn’t being considerate at all. He kept forcing her into manoeuvres that were way beyond her capabilities, not really worrying about the game and instead he seemed more intent in upsetting Hermione.

But Harry was getting madder and madder at Ron and his attitude. He could see that Hermione was getting pretty upset and soon it wasn’t fun anymore. He was just about to tell Ron to pull his head in and stop being such a prat, when he heard her scream.

Ron had just wound past her in a flashy move to get to the make-shift goal posts. In her attempt to stop him, she had lost balance, and now was falling from the skies. Harry didn’t think twice as he sped towards her, working out how he was going to catch her in a way that didn’t send them both plummeting to the ground.

He caught her mere metres from the earth, jumping off his broom and taking the impact of her body against his. She was shaking and sobbing in his arms – Harry was just livid.

“What the bloody hell do you think you’re doing?” he bellowed at Ron, who had quickly flown over to them, Ginny not far behind.

“Is she alright?” Ron asked frantically, “I didn’t mean…is Hermione alright?”

“No, she isn’t,” Harry snapped, then said to Ginny, “thank your parents for a lovely meal, would you?”

And without further thought, he Apparated himself and Hermione home.

As soon as he stepped into the hallway of Grimmauld Place, he called for Kreacher, asking him to make a pot of tea and bring it to the drawing room. With Hermione still in his arms, he then Apparated there and gently placed her into her favourite chair.

“Hermione?” he ventured, brushing away some of her wayward hair out of her pale face, “Hermione, are you alright?”

“I hate flying,” she sobbed, eyes downcast.

“I know.”

“Ron’s a git.”

“A huge git,” Harry agreed, smiling slightly when she did, though it soon died on his face, “are you alright?”

“Besides scared out of my wits,” she said quietly, wiping her tears off her face, “and really quite embarrassed, I’m fine.”

“Why are you embarrassed?” Harry asked, confused.

“Because you had to save me,” she told him, looking at him briefly, then back at her hands in her lap.

“You have nothing to be embarrassed about,” he nearly growled, making his way to one of the other chairs. “what Ron did was well out of order.”

“He was pretty mad at me, wasn’t he?”

“Yeah.”

“How about you, Harry,” she asked, once more looking at him, “are you mad at me too? You haven’t said anything about my going to university.”

“I’m not mad,” he answered, thinking, “it’s just that…I don’t know. Last year I don’t think we were ever apart and now I’m going off to Auror training and you’ll be living with your parents in Oxford being a brilliant student, doing something that you’ll love. It’ll just be weird, I guess.”

“I know,” she admitted, “everything’s…changing.”

“What’s really going on, Hermione?” Harry asked after a few moments of silence.

“What do you mean?”

“You told me two weeks ago that you were going to tell Ron that there’s no chance for him and you,” he told her straight, watching her every move, “why haven’t you? He obviously still thinks you two are together.”

“I don’t know why,” she grumped, “I’ve done absolutely nothing to encourage him. The stupid thing is, I think it’s blatantly obvious that things between us will never work, that we want different things and that I could never give him what he wants. Yet he seems to think it’s obvious that I know he fancies me and that we will one day marry and have babies. Honestly, is he really that dense?”

“That’s a bit harsh, Hermione.”

“Is it?” she sighed tiredly, wiping away the remnants of her tears, “the war is over, the funerals are over and everyone is starting to heal and get their lives back together. So then why am I pushing Ron away instead of starting to plan the future with him? I didn’t tell him about my plans to study because I knew it would just start another argument and I don’t want to argue anymore. We barely touch, we barely talk – how can he still think we’re good together?”

“But you kissed him,” he said after a moment.

“That was a lifetime ago, Harry,” she slumped back into her chair, “a lot’s happened since then.”

Harry didn’t say anything – she was right, a lot had happened since then. And although they were talking about the relationship, or lack thereof, between Ron and Hermione, Harry started to think about his own relationship with Ginny.

After his initial misgivings, he and Ginny had fallen back into dating easily. They did talk more, Ginny trying to understand what he had gone through during the Horcrux hunt, but Harry could tell she really had no idea. He listened as she talked about her year at Hogwarts and he felt an admiration for those who had been trapped there.

But she didn’t know what it was like to be so hungry, you’d eat anything, or to hear your best friend tortured and not being able to help, or seeing a snake come out of the body of an old lady – the list was a long one.

Still, they were together and he found a small amount of comfort from her. She had been ecstatic when he told her he had enrolled into Auror training, and instead of it taking the normal three years, the course had been condensed into a year and a half. Which meant, as far as Ginny could see, they could get married sooner, as soon as he had finished training.

Even though he still had the dream about Kings Cross and seeing his children off to Hogwarts, Harry noticed there were starting to be subtle differences. Ron and Hermione bickered more, little Rose’s appearance was changing and Ginny was more secondary – it seemed to be his and his children’s story. As the weeks had progressed, the idea of marrying Ginny was getting less appealing.

Kreacher used the pause in their conversation to bring in the tea. Both Hermione and Harry accepted the drink gratefully and Harry used the distraction to ask about the courses she was taking at university. Hermione began to explain what she was going to do, her whole demeanour changing. She was excited and Harry was quickly caught up in her enthusiasm.

“It sounds brilliant, Hermione,” Harry smiled at her, “how long have you been planning all of this?”

“Oh, ages,” she admitted, “years even. I always wanted to carry on SPEW, but I realised I had been going about it all wrong. I knew I needed to learn about law and negotiation and diplomacy and all of that sort of thing before I could really make a difference.

“But it’s grown from just house elves. I realise now there are so many wizarding creatures that have been given the rough end of the deal. While…while you were sleeping, I spoke to Professor McGonagall and she gave me some advice and helped me enrol into a Muggle university. She also was with me when I discussed with Mr Shacklebolt what I wanted to do and we worked out a sort of apprenticeship programme of sorts. They’ve both been brilliant.”

“And Ron never knew?”

“He spent a lot of time with his family,” she explained, “which I encouraged because that’s where he needed to be. I asked the professor and Minister to keep my plan quiet so really only you were privy.”

“But I was fast asleep…”

“Dreaming of marriage and children,” she laughed.

“It’s going to be strange, not having you around,” he blurted out suddenly, frowning when she blushed.

“I’m sure you’ll get through your essays just fine without my help,” she tried to joke.

“It’s more than just checking my homework,” Harry countered, “it’s just…you’ve always been there, through everything. Not even Ron can say that.”

“I know.”

“I’m going to miss you.”

She looked up at him then, tears once more brimming in her eyes as she whispered, “I’m going to miss you too, Harry.”

“Everything’s changing,” he scowled, slumping down further in his chair, “I’m not sure that I like it.”

“It’s inevitable though,” she told him quietly, “we’re growing up.”

“I guess,” he snorted.

“Can…can I give you some advice?” she asked, tentatively.

“I suppose,” he shrugged, wondering what she was going to say.

“You need to start letting Ginny in.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean,” she continued patiently, “that when something big happens in your life, you shouldn’t tell me or Ron first – you should tell Ginny.”

“You and Ron are my best friends…”

“I know,” she sighed deeply, “but Harry, Ginny’s your girlfriend and she should take priority. Especially over me.”

“I don’t understand.”

“It’s your eighteenth birthday and you’re here with me…”

“You fell off your broom!”

“I know, but Ginny won’t see it like that,” Hermione tried to explain, “she’ll wonder why you didn’t just drop me off and then head back to her. She doesn’t want to share you, and to be frank, if I was her, I wouldn’t want to share you either.”

“So you think she’ll make me choose between her and you?”

“She already has, Harry,” she told him gently, “remember? After you cursed Malfoy…”

“Sectumsempra..”

“You chose her. Like you should.”

“You and I didn’t speak to each other,” he thought out loud, then explained when Hermione looked at him, puzzled, “in my dream. You and I hardly even looked at each other.”

“See, even your subconscious knows that’s the way it needs to be,” she smiled sadly.

“But I can’t just turn my back on you!”

“Oh, you’ll never lose me completely,” she said, leaning forward so he would look at her, “the bond between us is too strong to ever completely sever. Even now with you going in one direction and me in another, if you need me, I’ll be here in a heart beat.”

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why do you care so much?”

She leaned back in her chair and looked at him strangely. He could tell she was thinking and thinking hard, but he was prepared to wait. He was curious of her answer and he really didn’t know why. All he knew was there was something missing in his life and somehow Hermione knew what it was. He saw she had resolved something as she took a deep breath, her eyes filled with tears once more.

“I was never going to tell you this, Harry,” she started, “but you’re right, everything’s changing and already things have moved forward in ways that has altered the dynamic between us. My secret doesn’t matter anymore. You knowing it won’t have the impact that perhaps it might’ve had.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Before I came to Hogwarts, I was pretty lonely,” she continued, “I had no friends but that didn’t matter – I had mum and dad and I had my books, I kept telling myself. When I found out I was a witch, I thought I could start afresh, reinvent myself and finally have the friendships I craved deep, deep down inside. But Hogwarts turned out like my primary school and once more I was the outcast and alone.

“Until you remembered me.”

“The troll.”

“Right, the troll,” she paused, took a deep breath, then carried on, “from that moment on I made it a personal mission to help you in whatever way I could. In the beginning, it was a romantic ideal of loyalty – naïve and innocent in its simplicity. It wasn’t really until the Tri-Wizards Tournament that I realised how fully I was committed to you. You had become everything to me, something I realised when I thought I’d lost you on the final task.

“The following year I tried to see if you felt the same way, but you fell for Cho. It hurt but I just made a new vow for myself that I would be the best friend I could be and support you in whatever way I could.

“Of course Cho was a disaster, but then came Ginny. I think I knew you fancied her long before you did. I decided then that I could make things work with Ron, I knew he liked me and I tried to tell myself that in time, I could like him back.

“It worked for a while, especially when he changed. I really thought I’d be able to give it a go.

“But then you died.”

“I…I don’t understand,” Harry interrupted, his mind swirling with what she was saying.

“We were in the Hall, talking about what we were going to next but I wasn’t really listening. You weren’t there and something in me told me you had gone off and done something stupid. When Voldemort announced your death, part of me died along with you. When Hagrid carried you out of the forest and laid you down in front of us, I’m sure I heard my heart break.

“I knew then that I could never, ever love any boy…any man, the way I loved you. That pretending with Ron wasn’t fair to him and that he deserved, deserves, so much more. I knew at that moment just how much you were part of my life.

“But then you didn’t die, instead you came back bigger and stronger. As I sat by your bedside while you slept, thinking about what I was going to do next, I knew nothing had changed. I still loved you and I could never love Ron as much. And I knew you’d never love me back.

“I had thought about my future but as I sat there watching you, I knew what I needed to do. I had to let you go so you could find the happiness you deserve with the girl you love while I tried to find a way to get over you and have a life of my own. I knew I had to break away.”

“So you’re leaving because of me?”

“No, Harry,” she smiled sadly, “I’m leaving because of me. I will always, always be your friend and there for you whenever you need me. But I need to find my own way, a way without you in it.

“Go to Ginny, talk to her, let her into your life – give her a chance. Let her be the most important girl to you, tell her your secrets, or problems or fears. That can’t be me any more…”

“Hermione…”

“You are an incredible, wonderful man, Harry Potter,” she whispered, cupping his cheek with her palm, “thank you for being such a wonderful friend.”

With that, she abruptly stood and left the room – all before Harry could think. He was stunned – Hermione loved him! How could that be? It was always meant to be her and Ron and him and Ginny, just like the dream! He didn’t understand.

How could Hermione love him?

A/N 2 – ah, my first bit of possible out of character-ness, let me know what you think. Also, total poetic license re Hermione’s courses. I have no idea how long that degree would take, if she could take that type of course in Oxford and whether it really would help with SPEW and the ministry. Just sounded good in my head.

A/N – thanks again for the reviews and for letting me know what you thought. This will be the make or break chapter ‘cause things get heavy in this one! Oh, and the reviewer who mentioned that I make Ron a bit of a dunce – fair enough. I think he gets redeemed. Thanks again, everyone. Oh, by the way – this story is finished so I will be posting at least every two days (if my life allows it). Cheers.

Chapter 3

Never in his life had he been more confused. Hermione loved him. She loved him so much, she was willing to walk away so he could find happiness with Ginny.

Hermione loved him.

The thought kept rolling around in his mind, popping into his head when he lest expected it. He had shut himself up in Grimmauld Place, refusing to see or talk to anyone, wanting to get things sorted before he met the people that it all affected:

Ron

Hermione

Ginny

Ron fancied Hermione, that was a fact. He may not have said as much but Ron cared deeply and Harry knew that Ron would be hurt badly if he found out that Hermione harboured feelings for Harry. Hurting Ron was the last thing he wanted to do.

But he also knew that Ron and Hermione would never work even if he wasn’t part of the equation, that they were too different for whatever they had to last. Hermione knew it and even though he didn’t want to admit it, Ron knew it too.

Still, as things stood right now, Ron wanted to marry Hermione.

The other part of the saga was Ginny. The girl he had thought about so much over the last few years, the girl who he thought was perfect for him, the girl who he dreamt he’d marry and mother his children. Yet Harry was having trouble moving on with Ginny. They were together, yes, but it didn’t seem real. Harry knew he was hiding things from his girlfriend, not telling her the truths about what had happened while they were apart because that was part of a life that was separate from the life he had with her.

It was the life he shared with Hermione.

But it was Hermione who told him he needed to let Ginny in, open up to her and give her a chance to understand why he was like he was. The trouble with that though was that Harry didn’t think Ginny would like what she’d find. He was her hero, will always be there to save the day – not the scarred, wounded boy that he thought himself to be.

It was these thoughts that disturbed Harry the most. He knew he wasn’t a hero, no matter how many parades and victory balls and award ceremonies there were telling him otherwise. He knew he didn’t do what he did on his own, that he couldn’t have done it on his own, that he needed the help of so many people to get rid of Voldemort. He knew what he had seen and what he had done had changed him in a way that Ginny would never understand because she hadn’t been there.

Hermione had.

Something in Harry told him that even if he told Ginny everything in all its gory detail, she still wouldn’t understand. She’d try, but it would just be a story to her, like something written in the multitude of books that had started springing up telling the world about the real ‘Harry Potter’.

So he sat in his house, mulling over again and again what he was going to do. He couldn’t lose Hermione as a friend – that just wasn’t an option. But how could their friendship survive now? In two weeks he would be in Auror training and she’ll be in Oxford starting her degree at some university and any chance to sort it all out would be lost.

Harry really didn’t know what to do or what to think.

Hermione loved him. Did he love her? He had told Ron that he did, but as a sister – has that changed? Harry didn’t know. He did know that Hermione was important to him, very important to him. She alone had stood by him throughout their friendship, had given up the most to be with him and really asked for nothing in return. She had been there when he had needed her.

Because she loved him.

Running his hand through his terribly unkept hair, he let out a groan of frustration. It was Ginny, not Hermione, that he was supposed be with. Wasn’t it?

“Master Harry, sir?”

Harry looked down at the house elf with a frown – it was well past breakfast therefore there was no reason for Kreacher to disturb him.

“What is it, Kreacher?” he snapped.

“I’s told the Miss that you were seeing no-one,” Kreacher told him quickly, “I’s told her Master Harry, like I’s told everyone else. But she said she wouldn’t leave!”

“Hermione’s here?” he exclaimed, surprised.

“Yes, Master Harry,” Kreacher nodded enthusiastically, “the Miss is in the square.”

A million thoughts powered through his brain, his heart going at the same speed. He wasn’t ready to talk to her, not yet, everything was still such a mess. But she was here and part of him wanted to see her, if only to let her know how much her confession was affecting him.

There were so many emotions pounding him as he stood there trying to work out what he was going to do – one minute he was terrified that when he saw her, he wouldn’t know what to say, another minute he was embarrassed, another minute he was angry that she had put him through all this turmoil.

But first he wanted to see what she was like since he saw her last. He made his way up to the room that oversaw the square outside Grimmauld Place and there she was, sitting on the grass, reading a book, looking calm and poised. For some reason, seeing her so serene incensed Harry – he had spent two weeks agonising over her confession and it seemed it hadn’t impacted on her at all!

Storming down the stairs, he dragged open the door and thundered his way over to her. She heard his arrival and looked up at him, a small frown creasing her brow.

“You’re not dead, then,” she said nonchalantly.

“No, of course not,” he scowled at her, “what are you doing here?”

“Well, Ron came and saw me this morning and said you were refusing to see anyone,” she told him, marking then closing her book, “he thought I’d might be able to get through to you, so here I am.”

“I needed some time to myself to think!” he growled, “you hit me with a bombshell and then just buggered off!”

“You’re right,” she sighed, looking at the book in her lap, “and I’m sorry for that. However,” she looked back to him, “you’re going about this the wrong way, Harry. Shutting yourself off like you have, it’s not healthy. Everyone is so worried about you…”

“So they send you to draw me out,” he snapped, still angry.

“It worked, didn’t it?” she smiled at him, returning his glare unflinchingly, though there was a sadness in her eyes as well, “I’m truly sorry I’ve upset you,” she continued softly, “I honestly thought you would just mull over my unexpected confession but realise that it didn’t matter because you are in love with Ginny.”

“How can you think I can just forget what you said?” he questioned sharply, though he could feel his anger ebbing away, “and I don’t love Ginny.”

“You will,” she told him confidently. Harry didn’t say anything, just took a deep breath and tried to get himself together. After a moment’s pause, Hermione spoke again.

“I had a word with Ron,” she said and he looked at her curiously, “I’ve told him that he and I will never be together romantically.”

“What did you say?” he asked, sitting down next to her on the grass, “what happened?”

“It was a few days after I left here,” she replied, “I told him that I love him, but only as a friend, that he and I were just too different…”

“You didn’t mention…” Harry cut in.

“No,” she glanced at him with a wry smile on her face, “I didn’t think telling Ron that one of the many reasons he and I could never be a couple was because I was in love with his best friend was particularly advantageous.”

“Oh.”

“However,” Hermione continued, “I did tell him that I could never give him what he wanted, what he deserved and that there was someone out there for him that would love him for who he was and not try and make him into something different, like I was.”

“Bloody hell,” Harry muttered, “how did he take all of that?”

“He was upset but I think he was expecting it,” she shrugged sadly, “he knew something wasn’t right and after your birthday, well, I think he thought it was just a matter of time. He apologised for his behaviour and nearly killing me, by the way.”

“As he bloody well should,” Harry grunted.

“Ron and I are fine,” she carried on, “a bit awkward at the moment, but fine,” she paused as she took a deep breath before asking quietly, “are you and I fine, Harry?”

“I dunno,” he admitted, just as quiet, “I want us to be. Are…are you okay with…everything?”

“It feels strange that you know,” she told him, “but your friendship means so much to me, Harry. Everything’s changing and to be honest, it’s all rather scary. But I hope you and I will get past this.”

“So do I,” he agreed. They both sat in silence for a little while, lost in their own thoughts. It wasn’t as uncomfortable as Harry had feared, in fact now she was here, it didn’t feel any different at all.

“We should go and do something,” Hermione suggested suddenly, Harry glancing at her in surprise, “go and do something fun! You’ve shut yourself up in that dark and dreary place for two weeks, missing all this brilliant sunshine – let’s go and see London!”

“Do something fun?” he repeated stupidly.

“Why not?” she said enthusiastically, facing him, her eyes glowing, “I know one doesn’t usually associate fun with me, but goodness – tomorrow I’m going to Ireland with my parents for a holiday and by the time I come back, you’ll be in training and I’ll be at school! This will be our last time together until Christmas, why not just do something silly for once?”

“You never said anything about going on holiday,” Harry accused, ignoring everything else.

“Because it didn’t really matter,” she rolled her eyes, “oh, come on Harry! I’ve already warned mum and dad that I’d be late, knowing how stubborn you are when you get in one of your moods…”

“I don’t have moods,” he mumbled.

“Of course you have moods,” she told him brightly, “for goodness sake, if anyone deserves to have moods, it’s you! So, what do you say? Are you up for a bit of a laugh?”

He couldn’t help but smile at her excitement and it did sound a lot better than mopping around Grimmauld Place worrying about everything. Sure, it won’t be like hanging around with Ron, but Harry knew Hermione enough to know it would still be fun.

“Okay,” he replied, finally, “sure. What do you have in mind?”

“Brilliant!” she exclaimed, standing as she put her book in the large bag that had been laying on the ground beside her, “I don’t know – let’s just play it by ear! We could pretend to be tourists or something!”

Harry was lost for words – Hermione was wearing a dress. A summer dress. And she looked rather stunning. She frowned slightly when she noticed he was staring at her and nervously straightened a few creases in her skirt, looking at it as if to see if something was wrong.

“What is it?” she asked him, worried, “have I got something on my dress?”

“Er…no,” Harry managed to stutter, “it’s just that, well, I’ve never seen you in a dress before…”

“Oh,” she smiled shyly, “it’s new – do you like it? We’ve had such lovely weather and what with going to university where I don’t have to wear a uniform, I went out and bought a horrendous amount of new clothes.”

“It’s…nice.”

“Thank you, Harry,” she beamed, “now go on! Go and change, you look absolutely frightful. Honestly, one would think you couldn’t take care of yourself on your own!”

Harry found himself grinning at her as he headed back towards the house. Half and hour later he was freshly groomed and walking beside Hermione as they made their way towards the local tube station. There, they found a tourist guide and over a cup of coffee, they decided on the first course of action.

As the day progressed, Harry found himself forgetting the turmoil of the past few weeks though he kept his hands firmly in his pockets, determined not to touch her as they took in the sights of London. He still found himself having fun, however, and saw a side of his best friend that had been hidden from him during their time at Hogwarts. She still got caught up in the facts and histories of many of the places they visited, reading out the information in the pamphlets they collected along their way as if Harry was even remotely interested. But she also laughed and got excited and was, well, a girl.

Every now and then, they would pause in their sight seeing because she would see something in a shop or at a stall that took her interest, making Harry hover impatiently as she browsed, sometimes asking his opinion on some item she had found. At first it had been embarrassing but as they spent more time together, even the act of shopping with a girl turned out to be a bit of fun.

They had dinner at a nice looking pub where they sat and reminisced about their day over a plate of food and a couple of lagers. Harry had been introduced to Muggle beer at lunchtime and found himself enjoying the taste, knocking a couple back as he ate his meal and talked to Hermione.

By the time they left the pub, the sun was setting and although he wasn’t drunk, Harry could feel that he was awfully relaxed. They walked along a path that ran along side the Thames, momentarily silent but comfortable.

“Oh, Harry,” Hermione suddenly gasped, stopping, “look!”

Harry followed her pointed finger to see the Houses of Parliament light up along the other side of the Thames, the tower of Big Ben rising next to it. Hermione went to the rail that separated the path from the river, and leaned on it so she could get a better look. The wind captured her hair and the hem of her dress, blowing them both slightly out behind her while the setting sun surrounded her in an ethereal glow. She had never looked more beautiful.

He saw a shiver pass over her, and without really thinking too much about it, he came behind her and wrapped his arms around her shoulders, pulling her to him, touching her for the first time that day.

“Are you cold?” he asked unnecessarily as she snuggled a bit deeper into his embrace.

“A bit,” she admitted, before adding, “isn’t that beautiful?”

“Not as beautiful as you,” he breathed into her ear, the alcohol in him making him bold.

Hermione swivelled around in his embrace, looking up at him curiously. He just smiled down at her, letting her do what he knew she had to do – think. The day with her had been perfect, just what he needed, and right now he was so relaxed that the feeling was actually alien to him.

As he looked down on her, a new feeling began to run through him, a desire he never thought he’d feel when it came to Hermione. But she was in his arms, feeling wonderful and watching him with eyes that he found himself being lost in – it all felt so right.

So when she kissed him, there was no hesitation for him to return her kiss. There was a brief thought that it was wrong, that this was his best friend – but that disappeared when her hands began to run trails up and down his back. The kiss was intense, igniting a passion in him that he realised was going to be extremely hard to extinguish.

“Take me home,” she told him, her voice husky and seductive, her mouth away from his to speak. He wondered if she meant her home, the home where her parents were waiting and where any chance of progressing further would end. But the way she was nibbling on his neck, her hands in his hair and on his back told him that it was his home she was talking about.

Breaking away from her, but grabbing her hand tightly, he pulled her over to some shadows and with a thought, was on the doorstep of Grimmauld Place. He barged open the door and as soon as it was closed, she was kissing him again. This time, he knew it was her thought that took them to his bedroom because he was no longer capable of thinking.

She had him on his bed, undoing his shirt and trailing kisses down his chest every time more skin was exposed. The experience was blowing his mind – the way her hair tickled him after the fire her lips produced, the way her hands felt so soft but so hard at the same time.

When she began to undo his belt and unbutton his jeans, suddenly coherent thought returned – if she followed this path, he knew there was no return.

“Hermione,” he groaned, missing her touch as she looked up at him, “we can’t…”

“Please, give me this, Harry,” she begged him softly.

“Are…are you sure?”

“Absolutely,” she purred before stopping any more talk by kissing him deeply while her hands still worked on his jeans, her touch bringing him waves of pleasure.

Later, as she lay in his arms idly drawing circles on his chest, he was able to really think about what just happened. He had had sex with Hermione. His first time had been with Hermione. Her first time had been with him. They had had sex.

He was both terrified and strangely satisfied. Part of him was glad that he had shared this momentous occasion with the girl that had already shared practically every huge event in his life – losing his virginity with Hermione seemed rather apt.

Yet, there was gnawing guilt that he had taken advantage of her, that he had let his teenage hormones ruin his friendship with someone who meant so much to him. That things had already been complicated by the fact that she loved him but he didn’t feel the same.

And, of course, he was officially with Ginny. He has cheated on his girlfriend.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered – her hand stopped moving.

“Sorry?” she repeated, “why?”

“Because…because I’ve taken advantage of you,” he continued quietly, “I shouldn’t have let this happen…”

“Shh…” she breathed, sitting up slightly as she placed a finger over his lips, her eyes boring into his, “don’t. Give me this, Harry, give me this moment.” She leaned forward and kissed him gently. As if they had a mind of their own, his hands found their way into her hair, holding her into her kiss. She climbed on top of him, her lips leaving his mouth and making their way down his jaw to his neck and then continued downwards, kissing, nipping, licking…

Their love making this time was slow and generous, both exploring the other, bringing each other pleasures that weren’t there in the rush of their first joining. By the time he was spent, any feeling of discontent had gone and in moments, he was asleep with Hermione wrapped up in his arms.

‘What if I’m in Slytherin?’

The whisper was for his father alone, and Harry knew that only the moment of departure could have forced Albie to reveal how great and sincere that fear was.

Harry crouched down so that Albie’s face was slightly above his own. Alone of Harry’s three children, Albie had inherited Lily’s eyes.

‘Albie James,’ Harry said quietly so that nobody but his son could hear, ‘we’ve had this discussion before – there is nothing wrong with being in Slytherin. In fact, one of the bravest men I knew was a Slytherin.’

‘But just say…’

‘…then Slytherin house will have gained an excellent student, won’t it?’ Harry ruffled his son’s hair fondly as he stood.

‘Harry?’

Harry looked around for the person who called his name and saw both Hermione and Ginny looking at him expectantly.

‘Harry?’ the voice said again, and he recognised it, it was…

“Hermione?”

“Sorry to wake you,” Hermione whispered, handing him his glasses. When she came into focus, he frowned when he saw she was fully clothed, kneeling down beside his bed.

“What’s going on?” he asked.

“I have to go,” she told him, catching her bottom lip between her teeth, “I…I just wanted to say goodbye…”

“You’re leaving?”

“I should get home before my parents wake,” she tried to explain, “we leave for Ireland this morning.”

“But we need to talk!” he cried, sitting up, clutching the bedclothes to his waist, terribly aware that he was naked underneath, “we need to sort things out…”

“Harry…”

“I’m so sorry Hermione,” he interrupted embarrassedly, “I’m so very, very sorry…”

“You have nothing to be sorry about,” she smiled sadly at him, “if anyone should be apologising, it’s me.”

“This is not your fault…”

“Yes, it is,” she countered quickly, “I’ve wanted you for so long, dreamt about having you and what it would be like. It was never my intention for this to happen but today was so much fun! And then you said I was beautiful and I looked at you…I knew what I was doing, Harry. I knew if I kissed you, where that could lead. But I don’t regret it for a moment, I don’t regret this for a moment.

“Tomorrow, we start our separate lives. This changes nothing.”

“How can you say that?” he asked her with a frown, “Hermione, this changes everything!”

“No…”

“We had sex!” he cried, startling her slightly, “twice! How can that not change everything! Do you just expect me to forget this ever happened? Is that what you’re going to do?”

“No…”

“Every time I look at you now, I’ll remember tonight! How you felt, how smelt – how you tasted! How you looked! Oh, God, how you looked!” In exasperation, he leaned forward and clasped his head in his hands, his elbows resting on his bent knees. He closed his eyes but the image of her danced in front of him – he let out a groan of frustration.

“You’re right.”

He opened his eyes and looked at Hermione, who had stood and backed away from the bed, her arms wrapped around herself.

“What?” he blurted out.

“You’re right,” she repeated sadly, “I’ve ruined everything. Typical,” she chuckled to herself, “the first time I think with my heart and not my head, I bugger it up.

“I’m sorry Harry, I’m so, so sorry. I knew how it would be for me, how I would cope with what I’ve done but I wanted to be with you so badly, I didn’t think about what it would do to you. I’ve been selfish and I understand why you hate me…”

“I don’t hate you, Hermione.”

“Well, you should,” she sighed, looking down at the floor, “I’ve made such a mess of things.”

“This is my fault too,” he said, no longer angry, “I…I could’ve said no. I should’ve said no.”

“I practically threw myself at you, Harry,” she gave him a small smile, glancing at him briefly, “I know you’re not attracted to me, but goodness, I didn’t really give you much choice!”

“We always have a choice,” he told her quietly, and a conversation with Dumbledore that he had a lifetime ago flickered through his mind.

She didn’t say anything, but her gaze returned to the carpet and Harry sighed.

“What happens now?” he asked and then waited as she got her thoughts together. After a moment, she looked up at him.

“You’ll go and make up with Ron,” she told him firmly, “forgive him and let him be your best friend. Then you’ll talk to Ginny, let her in, open up to her. Let yourself be happy with her. Let yourself fall in love…”

“I don’t know…”

“You’ve wanted her for so long, Harry,” Hermione cut in, “you love her, I know it. You just need to believe it.”

“If I love Ginny,” Harry ventured with a frown, “why did I sleep with you? Why am I here with you?”

“Because I’m what you know,” she answered softly. They looked at each other in the semi-darkness, both waiting for the other’s move. When Hermione made her way over to him, a sense of anticipation went through him. She reached out and ran a finger gently down from his scar to his jaw, a touch that made him long for more.

“You are an incredible man, Harry Potter,” she whispered, a tear rolling down one cheek, “and I’m sorry for making things even more complicated for you than they already were. I never meant to hurt you, I really didn’t. But that’s my only regret, that I hurt you. Everything else was, well, magical.

“Go to Ginny, Harry. Talk to her, give her a chance.”

She leant forward and gave him a chaste kiss on the mouth, and then with a pop, she was gone. Moments later he heard the front door open and close and Harry knew he was alone.

Lying down with a groan, he took his glasses off, put them on the nightstand and tried to get back to sleep. After about half and hour of tossing and turning, he realised that sleep wasn’t going to happen so instead he began to think. By the time the sunlight began to enter his room, Harry had a plan.

A/N 2 – ah, I bet you didn’t expect that to happen, huh? See, this is based on me. I followed a boy that I loved half way around the world only to be told he didn’t feel the same. I still wanted him though, and actually got my way for one lovely night. Ohhh. Wasn’t my ‘first’ though and I romantically love the idea that Harry was Hermione’s first. Hence this chapter. I hope it hasn’t put you off…

A/N – thanks for your reviews – not too many thinking ‘that just wouldn’t happen’! And for those who asked, I did find true love (eventually) and are now very happily married (not with the bloke I chased, however). Also, a warning, there is Harry/Ginny in this chapter and Hermione/other character. Sorry. If you’ve read my stuff before – there is always angst before the lovely fluff. Don’t worry, this will end the way you all want it!

Chapter 4

It was with determination and a new sense of purpose that Harry Apparated to The Burrow just before lunch. He was tired, but it wasn’t anything he couldn’t handle – he had felt worse at various times over the years.

The Burrow no longer had the run-down appearance as the original, but there was still no mistaking it was magical. Thankfully, Ron was the first person he saw as he strode into the garden, his friend sitting on a deck chair reading a magazine or something. Taking a deep breath and putting a smile on his face, Harry continued on.

“Hey, Ron,” he greeted when he was close enough

“Harry!” Ron cried, getting up immediately and making his way to Harry, both standing awkwardly as they tried to work out what to do. They settled on a manly whack on the back as they shook hands, “I knew Hermione would get you out! Mate, it’s good to see you!”

“Yeah,” Harry shrugged, “sorry for not returning your owls.”

“Nah, it’s me that should apologise,” Ron said sheepishly, “what happened on your birthday was bang out of order. I can be such a daft git sometimes. Sorry about that, Harry.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Harry muttered, walking over to where Ron had been sitting, “whatcha doing?”

“Er, reading up on running a small business,” Ron answered shyly, picking up a book from the piles around his chair as he sat back down, “I’ve been working with George and seeing how he does things, but I have a few ideas so I thought I’d check to see if I’m on the right track or not.”

“That’s brilliant,” Harry nodded, grabbing another old chair and sitting down next to Ron, “what’s this?” He held up the magazine that Ron had been reading when he arrived and saw it was about Quidditch, the page it was open at advertising the first Quidditch match of the season – a Chuddly Cannon’s home game.

“Oh nothing,” Ron shrugged, “they’re starting the tournament, trying to get things back to normal, you know? Anyway, the Cannon’s are playing…”

“I’ve never been to a league game,” Harry mused out loud, glancing at Ron, “we should go.”

“Really?” Ron grinned, “because no-one else could go and I really didn’t want to go on my own. That would be brilliant!”

“Cool,” Harry smiled back, before sobering slightly, “is Ginny around?” he asked.

“She’s with Luna,” Ron replied carefully, “she probably won’t be back until dinner. She’s really mad with you, Harry.”

“I guessed as much,” Harry sighed, then added, “Hermione told me about you and her. I’m sorry it didn’t work out like you wanted.”

“It wasn’t that unexpected, to tell you the truth,” Ron admitted, blushing slightly, “it’s better off this way, us being just friends. Besides, with her going off to the Muggle school, I’d never see her anyway.”

“True,” Harry nodded, suddenly finding his hands extremely interesting. He wondered if Ron could tell that there was something different, that he could read ‘I slept with Hermione’ flashing all over his face and then kill him.

“Do you wanna borrow a broom and go flying?” Ron asked and Harry let out a sigh of relief – obviously this friend wasn’t quite as good as reading Harry as his other friend.

“Actually,” Harry started, looking back at Ron with a grin, “I was wondering if you wanna come with me to Diagon Alley and maybe Hogsmeade and help me buy a new one.”

Ron accepted in a heart beat and the two of them spent the rest of the day discussing, looking at then buying a new broom. Harry was enjoying himself, as he was determined to do, and it wasn’t until they arrived back at The Burrow that he remembered that he now had to face Ginny.

She was sitting where Ron had been, in the garden drinking a drink and reading something. The sun was making her hair burn, its soft, sleek waves like lava flows over her shoulders. She heard their arrival and Harry could see that she was torn between running to him in an enthusiastic greeting or being angry with him.

Being angry won out.

“So, you’ve decided to grace us with your presence, have you?” she asked him sarcastically.

“Hey Gin,” he said as a reply, nervously standing a safe distance away, his hands deep in his pockets.

“Is that it?” she bit back, “a ‘hey Gin’ – is that all I get?”

“I…I’m sorry I didn’t reply to your owls,” he stammered, “I had some stuff I had to work through…”

“Did you not stop and think that I could’ve helped you?” she fired at him, “did you not think that me, being your girlfriend, should be the one you turn to? Instead, we have to send Hermione bloody Granger to make you come out and speak to us!”

“That’s out of order, Ginny,” Ron cut in, standing slightly in front of Harry.

“Oh, I know!” she cried exasperatedly, turning from Harry and Ron in frustration, “I know! It’s just that,” she turned back to Harry, “how can I help if you won’t let me?”

“I’m trying Ginny, I really am,” Harry sighed, running a hand through his hair, “which is why I’m here. I…I wanted to see if you’d want to go out for the day tomorrow, to the beach or something.”

“Beach?”

“Yeah,” he carried on, determined, “we could go to Brighton, or…or maybe somewhere in Cornwall. Just the two of us. What do you think?”

“That would be lovely, Harry!” Ginny exclaimed excitedly, all previous discontent forgotten as she rushed to him and engulfed him in a hug, “I’d really like that.”

Harry closed his eyes as he felt her in his arms, her flowery smell that once meant so much now tickling his nose with annoyance. He found himself comparing Ginny’s touch to Hermione, desperately getting rid of the thought as soon as it entered his mind. He was moving on, forgetting last night ever happened. He was supposed to be giving Ginny a chance.

“Excellent,” he managed to say eventually, his mouth inches from her ear, “I’ll be ‘round about ten then.”

“Perfect,” she grinned, hugging him tighter, “I can’t wait!”

“Ginny, dear,” Harry looked over the top of Ginny’s head to see Mrs Weasley come from the house, Ginny swivelled around in his embrace to look at her mother, “can you help me with dinner please? Oh, Harry! Oh my, this is a surprise! I didn’t know you were here!”

“Hello, Mrs Weasley,” he smiled embarrassedly, unwrapping himself from Ginny.

“Well, look at you!” Mrs Weasley continued with a grin, “of course, you have to stay for dinner!”

“Oh no, that’s fine,” he said hastily, “Kreacher will cook me…”

“Pish posh, your house elf will understand,” Mrs Weasley interrupted, “come along Ginny, let’s get everything ready – we now have a guest!”

“Harry’s not a guest, mum,” Ginny grinned at him happily, “he’s practically one of the family!”

“Of course he is,” Mrs Weasley agreed, taking Ginny’s hand and pulling her from Harry, still smiling, “but we haven’t seen him for so long!”

Ginny let herself be dragged away with good humour and as Harry watched, he let out the breath he didn’t realise he was holding. Beside him, Ron shuffled into his view, looking slightly nervous.

“She’s not right for you, Harry,” Ron suddenly told him, glancing over his shoulder to make sure they weren’t overheard, before ushering a slightly stunned Harry further from the house.

“What?” Harry managed to splutter.

“Look,” Ron began seriously, “I don’t know what’s going on in your head – probably Hermione’s the only one that does and she’s not saying much at the minute – but I’m guessing things have changed. They’ve changed for everyone…”

“Ron…” Harry tried to cut in but Ron waved him off and just carried on.

“…but Ginny’s carrying on like a spoilt little cow,” he scowled, “just like before and mum and dad are so wrapped up with every thing else, they’re letting it go. She stumps around the house, having a go at you about you not letting her help you. But when she’s talking to friends and stuff, it’s like she killed You-Know-Who herself!”

“Surely she’s not that bad…”

“Not all the time, I suppose,” Ron conceded with a shrug, “but I know one thing, she doesn’t understand you, mate. She sees you as some sort of, I don’t know, god or something. I don’t reckon she’ll ever get over that.”

“You think I should break up with your sister?” Harry tried to confirm, slightly confused.

“I’m just telling you how I see it,” Ron answered with another shrug, “she’s not right for you and I think you should cut your losses.”

Harry turned from Ron and thought hard. He already guessed that Ginny had a ‘hero’ complex about him, but hoped that would disappear over time. And he liked Ginny, he really did. But Ron is basically saying that he didn’t see the relationship working, with the same sort of surety that Harry hadn’t seen Ron and Hermione having anything significant. That partnership ended – should he end whatever he had with Ginny as well?

Yet, he had promised Hermione that he’d give Ginny a chance and Hermione seemed to think that he and Ginny would work out. Somehow, he valued her judgment about matters of the heart over Ron’s. Still, Ron’s concern was, well, a concern.

“She waited for me,” he finally said, quietly, turning back to Ron, “I owe it to her to at least give us a go, right?”

“S’pose,” Ron agreed reluctantly, “just don’t let her walk all over you. She can be right bossy when she got a mind – and used to getting her own way.”

Later that night, as he lay in bed (trying not to think that the last time he had been there, it was with Hermione) he thought hard. The end of the war and duelling Voldemort seemed a lifetime ago – waking up to a dream where he was married with children and seemingly happy. The dream replayed in his mind once more – James, Lily and Albus, his children, Hermione not speaking to him, he not wanting Teddy to live with them because it would mean his son’s shared a room, he and Ginny married, but not touching once, Ron and Hermione married yet Ron still treating her like he always did, the old prejudices about the houses even after they had grown into adults…

Was he really happy in that dream? Sure, he had everything that he wanted – except love. Thinking hard, he realised that in his dream, he and Ginny didn’t even hold hands. He had hugged his children but not his wife. She had comforted him with words, but not by a touch. A touch that he now realised that he wanted.

Which brought his thoughts back to Hermione. Her touch, her softness – her love for him. And how Ginny’s touch didn’t make him feel the same.

Growling in frustration, Harry rolled over onto his stomach as the two girls in his life tormented his brain.

Hermione was going to university. He wouldn’t see her for months and maybe not even hear from her as he knew she would easily get consumed by her studies. She was his best friend, the one person in the world that knew him, really knew him and understood him so well. She was the only person in the world who has told him they love him.

And they had slept together.

Yet she expected him to forget how she felt about him as well as forget how she felt with him. And he should! Because she was just a friend to him, someone he cared for deeply (even loved, in a way) but wasn’t attracted to.

Not like Ginny.

He let out a sigh. He had thought about Ginny so often while on the Horcrux hunt, dreaming about her and what it would be like to be with her once everything was over that now he had the chance, it didn’t seem real. Or maybe the reality didn’t match up to the dreams he had of her. She had always been the light at the end of the tunnel, the thought that got him through the misery that had been the previous year. And he hadn’t given her a chance, not really. In their sixth year, it had only been weeks before Dumbledore died and he had broken things off with her. Then he had been gone and only dreaming about her until it was over and everything had changed.

He wasn’t a boy any longer – he had been through too much, seen too much to see life as the eighteen year old he was. And although Ginny had also been through horrors over the last year, it wasn’t the same. She wanted to forget. He couldn’t.

Now, she was going to Hogwarts to complete her last year and he was going to train as the Auror she wanted him to be. This was what he wanted. This was what he had dreamt of.

Wasn’t it?

“Yes,” he told the night, “I’m supposed to be with Ginny.”

Which meant that he would forget about Hermione and the mistake that happened between them and make things work with Ginny.

Even though Ron didn’t think Ginny was right for him.

And Hermione loved him.

Plus he had slept with Hermione.

“It was a mistake,” he said out loud, trying to convince himself, already knowing that he didn’t really believe it, no matter how many times he told himself. Although in all the years he had known Hermione, he had never once thought of her as anything else than a friend. Even if Ron hadn’t fancied her forever, Harry had never really been attracted to Hermione. He admired her, sure, respected her – even loved her – but never even thought of what it would be like to be with her.

Which is why he didn’t understand why he was feeling what he was now.

Sighing, he closed his eyes and tried once more to sleep.

The following two weeks were…strange. He spent most of them with Ginny as Ron went back to the shop and Hermione was with her parents. Harry found himself enjoying the time he spent with Ginny, that she was indeed fun.

He bought her an expensive necklace for her birthday and she loved it, also loving the flowers that came along with the gift. It was exactly what a boyfriend should buy his girlfriend, according to Ron’s guide book on girls. Harry had glanced at it (after fishing it out of the bottom of his trunk) to try and work out what to get her. He had had no idea.

He was trying, he really was. He even let himself be paraded down Diagon Alley once, but only once, preferring to stick to Muggle places. He listened to her gossip about some of her classmates with feigned interest. He kissed her fondly and enjoyed the feel of her with him.

But something was missing.

A highlight of the two weeks was going the to the Quidditch match with Ron. It felt so normal, just two blokes going out to watch a game, and they both went disguised so they weren’t disturbed. It had been a good night – and the Canons won.

He only heard from Hermione once, an owl describing her trip and how much fun she was having. It was as if the developments between them never happened, the only sign to Harry that something was different was she didn’t sign her owl off ‘love Hermione’ as she always used to.

Ironic.

One Saturday he, Ron and Ginny visited Teddy at Mrs Tonk’s place. It was really hard for Harry, but he felt like he had to do it – it was the first time he had seen them since Remus and Tonk’s funeral. Afterwards, Ginny had tried to make him feel better but ended up making him angry.

Hermione would’ve known what to do.

Harry apologised to Ginny the following day and life carried on.

The night before Hogwarts was to start and Harry was to start his training, Ginny had offered herself to him. She had accepted his reasons that he wasn’t ready when he turned her down but he felt guilty just the same. He had been ready – but not for Ginny.

To say he was uncomfortable when he joined Mr and Mrs Weasley, Ron and Ginny at Kings Cross was an understatement. Everyone was looking at him like he had two heads or something, and Ginny was hanging onto him and beaming like he was a prize. Ron stuck to his side, scowling at anybody who dared approach Harry for any thing. Harry appreciated Ron’s efforts while his annoyance at Ginny’s lack of thought was simmering within him. When she kissed him goodbye in such a way that both embarrassed him and had him gasping for air, he felt relief when she finally left and was securely on the train.

Watching it pull away from the platform, Harry sighed deeply. It was strange not to be on the Express, it was strange not to have Hermione standing with him and Ron on this platform and it was strange to think that his last memory of standing there was in his dream where his children were making the magical trip to Hogwarts.

“Care for a drink, Harry?” Ron asked, breaking into his thoughts. Realising Mr and Mrs Weasley were watching him curiously while many others were staring at him in awe, Harry was brought back to the present with a thud. He wanted to get out of there desperately.

“Yeah,” he told Ron under his breath, “to the Owlery?”

Ron just nodded knowingly, said his goodbyes to his parents, as did Harry, and then with a crack, left Kings Cross, Harry close behind.

Harry leaned back into the booth of the Owlery, a small pub that had quickly became a favourite for the two friends. He was spending more and more time in the Muggle world as whenever he went anywhere magical, he was harassed by well meaning fans.

Harry hated it.

He had introduced Ron into the pleasures of a nice lager and after finding the country pub near Bath, they spent a few quiet evenings there, catching up.

“There you go, mate,” Ron said as he handed Harry a pint, “cheers.”

“Cheers,” Harry echoed as they both took a sip of the frothy, cold drink.

“So,” Ron began after a moments silence, “how was it?”

“How was what?” Harry asked, confused.

“Your two weeks with Ginny,” Ron clarified, glancing at Harry slightly nervously, “how was it? You’ve given her her chance, was it worth it?”

“We had fun,” Harry answered absently, wiping away some of the condensation off the side of his glass, not looking at Ron, “it was like it was back in our sixth year…”

“But?” Ron cut in – Harry looked up at him.

“There’s no buts, Ron,” Harry frowned.

“Of course there’s a but,” Ron stated calmly, “I know I’m not as perceptive as Hermione, but even I could see that you aren’t as enamoured with Ginny as she is with you. The way she paraded you down Platform Nine and Three-Quarters today was disgusting. It was like she was telling everyone that you belong to her, back off.”

“I know,” Harry agreed quietly, hating the way his resentment towards his girlfriend had taken hold within him.

“So, you’re going to keep it going with her?” Ron asked, “even though spending two weeks with her hasn’t made you fall passionately in love with her or some such nonsense. And she really has no idea otherwise she wouldn’t have behaved like she did today.”

“Yeah, I will,” Harry sighed, “not that it matters. Tomorrow I start training and she’s at Hogwarts. We’ll hardly see each other…”

“But she wants you to write every day,” Ron interjected with a snort, “remember?”

“Well, she knows that’s not going to happen,” Harry grumped, “look, just give it a rest, will you? Ginny and I are doing okay – she makes me smile and that’s all I want right now, alright?”

“Okay, okay,” Ron surrendered quickly, taking a swig of his beer before broaching a new subject. Harry waited in a grumpy silence, his eyes never leaving the drink in his hands.

Things with Ginny had been fine – he hadn’t lied to Ron – but they hadn’t been what he was expecting. And today had just made him angry.

“So,” Ron ventured finally, “have you heard from Hermione lately?”

This wasn’t a subject that would improve Harry’s mood at all.

“Once,” he ground out, “last week. An owl telling me she was having a fantastic time.”

“Oh,” Ron nodded absently, “I’ve only heard from her once as well. Sounds like she’s had a brilliant time.”

“Yeah.”

Pause.

“I can’t believe you start Auror training tomorrow.”

“I know.”

“Everything’s changing.”

“I know.”

They looked at each other then, a passing between them as they both realised that they wouldn’t see each other for the next three months and that one part of the trio had fractured away already.

“This is weird,” Ron muttered with a wry smile, “knowing I won’t be seeing your ugly mug any more. I mean, even last year when we weren’t at Hogwarts, we were still…together, you know?”

Harry chuckled as Ron blushed when he realised what his comment could imply. His laughter died quickly though, knowing that what Ron said was true. The trio was no longer.

The following day when he took his portkey to the location of where he would be spending the next year, he felt a sense of loss. He was alone without either Ron or Hermione for the first time since he joined the wizarding world. Looking around at the small group of new trainees, he was pleased to see at least one familiar face – Neville Longbottom was taking this next journey with him.

Harry learnt very early on that he wasn’t going to have time to think about what he was missing or anything, really, that didn’t relate to being an Auror. Every waking hour was devoted to his training or studying for his training. Ron, Hermione and Ginny became passing thoughts, only remembered when he got a letter from those on the outside.

Before he knew it, Christmas arrived and the trainee’s were allowed their first break. Given two weeks which covered both Christmas and New Years, Harry made his way to Diagon Alley and Ron on his first day off.

The shop was full with the heavily disguised Harry impressed with the amount of business the shop seemed to have. He spotted Ron talking to a customer and with a grin, made his way over to his friend.

“Excuse me,” Harry started, smiling as Ron didn’t recognise him, “do you stock love potions?” Harry asked, “its just that a friend of mine put some into some chocolates once and it really did the trick. The guy she wanted went absolutely bonkers about her.”

Ron stared at him for a moment then grinned as he saw something of Harry in his disguise.

“Have a special stock,” Ron told him, guiding him to the back of the busy store, “this way sir.”

As soon as the door of the stock room closed, Ron turned to Harry, who was now back to looking like himself, grinning from ear to ear.

“Bloody hell, it’s good to see you, mate!” Ron gushed, pulling Harry into a brief hug, “blimey, look at you! You look…”

“They work us out quite a bit,” Harry explained, realising he had got bigger since seeing Ron last, “hey, do you think you could skive off for some lunch? I know you’re pretty busy…”

“Give me a minute,” Ron interrupted, before dashing out into the busy shop. Harry hadn’t had a chance to look too much around the store room before Ron was back, coat in hand.

“To the Owlery then?” the redhead asked, putting on his coat.

“To the Owlery,” Harry smiled, looking forward to seeing his favourite pub after all this time.

Minutes later they were sipping their beers at a table in the busy country pub, Harry telling Ron all about the training with Ron listening intently. It felt good to be able to talk to his friend about everything he’d experienced – Neville had been his only confidant and although he and his old housemate had become good friends, he wasn’t Ron.

Drinking their third beer, the conversation turned to Ron and the business. It seems his presence in the stores improved sales to the point where they were looking at expanding to Hogsmeade in the new year, Ron managing the new shop with George staying at the old.

Eventually the conversation turned to Ginny where Harry admitted he hadn’t had time to reply to many of Ginny’s letters and Ron saying that his sister wasn’t too impressed. Hermione, according to Ron, understood. Harry found himself feeling slightly jealous as Ron explained that he and Hermione met often to catch up. The two had organised for the trio to meet together Christmas Eve to exchange presents as Hermione wanted to spend Christmas with her family and since her boyfriend wasn’t leaving for his own family until the day before Christmas Eve, she wanted to spend the extra few days with him.

Harry’s heart stopped beating.

“Boyfriend?” he repeated stupidly, “Hermione has a boyfriend?”

“Yeah,” Ron nodded, “didn’t you know? Dan something, in heaps of her classes. Seems to be a nice enough bloke…”

“You’ve met him?”

“Yeah,” Ron shrugged, “a couple of times. You will too – we’re going to join them for New Years. He lives in London and we kinda thought that since you live in London too, we’ll go to a party there. Never really been to a New Years Eve party, except family ones. This time, we can drink…”

“I don’t want to go…”

“’Course you do,” Ron interrupted, taking a sip of beer, “everyone’s going. A reunion of sorts. Everyone thought that experiencing a Muggle New Years would be fun so you have to be there.”

“Everyone’s been organising my life without me, then,” Harry growled, finishing his beer with a swig.

“Pretty much,” Ron accepted without remorse, “it’s our first Christmas since…well, since the end of the war. We wanted to have some fun.”

Harry didn’t say anything, his mind stuck on the knowledge that Hermione had a boyfriend. He tried to remember her letters and any mention of a ‘Dan’, but couldn’t. He had to see her, find out how she could move onto someone else after…after what, he wasn’t sure. It sounded stupid in his head when he answered his own question.

How could she move on after me?

He needed to see her.

“I have to go,” he said abruptly to Ron, “I’ll see you Christmas Eve, yeah?”

“Sure Harry,” Ron smiled, “good to see you, mate.”

Harry just nodded and quickly left the bar, missing Ron’s self-satisfied smile as he did so.

Taking a deep breath, Harry knocked on the door of the Granger home. After a few moments, the door opened.

“Harry?” Mrs Granger welcomed, “my, this is a surprise!”

“Hello Mrs Granger,” Harry said shyly, “um…welcome back.”

“Why, thank you,” she smiled, “I must say, Australia was wonderful and all, but it’s good to be home.”

Harry nodded nervously before asking, “is…is Hermione here?”

“No, she’s out with Daniel,” Mrs Granger answered – Harry’s face fell.

“Oh,” he sighed, thinking hard about what he should do next. He knew it was pretty wishful thinking that Hermione was going to be home, but he hadn’t thought much beyond that.

“They normally go to a small coffee shop on Chancery Lane, near the campus library,” Mrs Granger added softly – Harry looked up at her, “you could try and find her there.”

Harry gave Hermione’s mother a thankful grin, seeing some sort of amusement in her eyes. With a word of thanks, he headed off to the township, determined to find first the campus of Hermione’s university and then the coffee house her mother mentioned.

Making his way through the hoards of Christmas shoppers, he found a street directory and worked out how to get to the campus, where he quickly found the coffee house. A quick inspection inside told him Hermione wasn’t there, so he went back out into the street. He decided the next best place would be the library, knowing that really, she could be anywhere.

With a glance at the campus directory, he found the library and started to make his way there.

“Harry?”

He heard his name and turned to see the object of his search heading his way – with a man holding her hand. A bubble of anger rose within him as he plastered a smile on his face and approached her.

“Hey Hermione,” he greeted, hands dug deep in his pockets as he glanced at her companion – pale, dark hair and a poor excuse for facial hair shadowing his boyish face. Harry really couldn’t see what she could see in the bloke.

“What are you doing here?” she beamed, leaving him to give Harry a hug, somewhat briefly, “I thought I wouldn’t see you until Christmas Eve!”

“We broke for holiday yesterday,” Harry explained, liking how he looked a bit uncomfortable, “I’ve just been to Ron’s and thought I’d come and see you too. Your mum said you might be here.”

“We’re way too predictable,” Hermione chuckled, then stopped mid thought, her eyes widening as she turned from him to grab his hand and brought him forward, “oh, my – I’m so sorry, Dan,” she gushed, pulling him closer, “er, Harry – this is Dan Carter. Dan, this is Harry Potter.”

“Hello, Harry,” Dan smiled, holding out his hand, which Harry shook reluctantly, “it’s great to meet you. I’ve heard lots about you.”

“That’s strange,” Harry replied, “because I’ve heard bugger all about you.”

He glared at Dan and noticed, in passing, that he had rather big, blue eyes. Dan glared back with Hermione ignored at their side – for a moment.

“Dan,” she said, her voice conveying a hint of annoyance, “are you able to give Harry and me a minute? To catch up?”

“Sure,” Dan agreed, giving Harry a final glare before looking at Hermione, “though we told Sarah we’d be at her place at three so we haven’t got too much time to spare…”

“Oh, yes, that’s right,” she smiled and rolled her eyes at her forgetfulness, “we shouldn’t be too long.”

“Right,” he nodded before kissing her briefly, “I’ll grab a coffee then. Nice to meet you Harry.”

Harry just grunted and continued to glare at Dan while he walked away.

“You didn’t need to be so rude,” Hermione snipped, finally getting Harry’s attention.

“Why didn’t you tell me you had a boyfriend?” he asked briskly.

“Because it only happened a couple of weeks ago,” she spat back at him, “besides, I never heard from you, I didn’t even know if you were getting my owls.”

“Ron said you understood why I couldn’t write…”

“Oh, I understood, Harry,” she told him, hands on hips as she scowled at him, “I knew that you didn’t have the time to write long wordy letters. But a simple, ‘hello, I’m doing fine’ would’ve been nice.”

Harry took a deep breath and let his shoulders sag, knowing she was right. He had been busy, but he had also chosen to shut himself off.

“Sorry,” he mumbled.

“Yes, well,” she carried on in a slightly softer tone, “that’s all by the by. So, how are you?”

They stood there in the cold and talked a bit about things of little consequence, all the while Harry thinking about the fact she had a boyfriend. When the conversation dried up, he waited for a moment, took a deep sigh and then spoke.

“What’s he like,” he ventured, once more his hands dug deeply in his pockets, “this bloke of yours?”

“He’s lovely,” she answered, blushing slightly, “he treats me really well.”

“Oh.”

“He knows all about you,” she continued, looking at him tentatively, “knows you were the reason I said no to him for so long.”

“Why did you finally say yes?”

“Because it was time to move on,” she admitted softly, dropping her gaze to the ground, “I knew I would be seeing you over Christmas and I…”

She paused, wrapping her arms around herself, quickly wiping away a tear that had fallen down her cheek.

“Hermione…” Harry started, stepping closer to her as if to comfort her – she stepped back from him.

“No, Harry,” she told him firmly, “please. Look, I have to go. We’re meeting friends for drinks before everyone heads off home. I’ll see you Christmas Eve, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Harry nodded, frowning at how quickly she regained her composure, “sure.”

With that, she turned on her heel and began to walk away, turning once and waving goodbye. Harry returned the wave and watched her go, a feeling of loss engulfing him.

A/N 2 – yeah, I know that ‘Dan’ is unimaginative and he is based on Mr Radcliffe (Dan Carter is actually an All Black (NZ rugby player) and is also rather cute) but in my head Dan is Harry and Emma is Hermione and they look so darn cute together. I hope you forgive me!

A/N – ah well, the last chapter not as popular as the others. I think this will be even less so! This story is only eight chapters long so we’re getting there. Oh, and I guess I should warn that our favourite partnerships aren’t quite there yet…

Chapter 5

Things with Ginny weren’t going particularly well. She had been annoyed with him when she found out he had spent time with Ron before seeing her, then kept dropping hints at what she wanted him to get her for Christmas. She then had proceeded to tell him all what was going on at Hogwarts – it took all of Harry’s resolve not to just walk away.

By the time Christmas Eve arrived, he wasn’t in the best of moods and Hermione’s ‘betrayal’ of having a boyfriend was one of the main reasons for that. He had been determined to have a terrible time at the present exchange, but instead found himself having a blast. The three of them together for the first time in over six months overshadowed everything else as they remembered their many adventures over a meal and drinks. Harry found himself laughing and forgetting that the three friends were now fractured apart.

Christmas Day saw Harry at Godric’s Hollow and visiting his parents’ graves. He had been placing a bunch of flowers at his mother’s headstone when Hermione appeared at his side. He had mentioned to his friends his intentions the day before but didn’t expect either of them to leave their family Christmas’s to join him. Hermione’s appearance surprised him, but he was grateful. She didn’t say anything, just held his hand as he stood and thought of his mum and dad. When he was ready to leave, she gave him a small smile, a peck on the cheek and then disappeared.

He stood there for a moment and let himself fully comprehend what had just taken place. Out of all his friends (he had told Ginny as well), it had been Hermione who alone understood how difficult coming to the graveyard was for him. Sighing, he once more realised just how well she knew him.

The rest of his Christmas was spent at the Burrow in the madness that was the Weasley family. Harry couldn’t help but join in with the Christmas spirit, especially with Mrs Tonks and Teddy being there plus Bill and Fleur and their little baby. Exhausted but happy, he lay in his bed that night with a huge grin on his face.

His dreams were once more of his future and this time Ginny was back as his wife, his children were a mixture of her and him while Hermione and Ron had their own families – Hermione’s husband faceless but had black hair while Ron’s wife was elusive. He woke feeling contented and satisfied.

The feeling lasted all of the morning, until Ginny found out that Hermione had met him at Godric’s Hollow, and that Harry had tracked Hermione down on his first day out of training. He had told Ginny about Godric’s Hollow by accident – the argument that followed brought out the information of the earlier meeting. She then made the mistake of giving Harry an ultimatum, that he had to choose between Hermione and her. Even though things with Hermione were strained, Harry didn’t think twice about choosing his best friend over his girlfriend.

Ginny wasn’t pleased and after further heated discussion, told Harry that she no longer wanted to be with him. He left the Burrow with mixed emotions; anger that she actually made him choose, relief that it was over and a tiny bit of sadness that his relationship had ended so close to Christmas

New Year’s Eve arrived with a mounting sense of excitement. Those from Hogwarts were meeting at Grimmauld Place before joining Hermione and her friends at a street party in one of the suburbs of London around nine.

Harry was having fun, more fun than he thought he would. Everyone seemed so much more relaxed than when in school and all thoughts of Ginny were easily forgotten. When, at nine, they made their way to where they were to meet Hermione, it seemed nothing could dampen his mood.

He spotted Hermione and Dan the moment they arrived at the street party, Ron giving him a small nudge as he too, saw their friend.

“That’s Hermione’s boyfriend?” Dean asked, rather surprised.

“Yeah,” Harry answered.

“Dan something,” Ron added.

“My, he looks like you, Harry,” Luna said from Ron’s side – Ron and Harry both turned to the blond at the same time.

“What?” Ron spluttered.

“No he doesn’t!” Harry said, overlapping Ron. Dean, Seamus and Neville all chuckled.

“You know something,” Ron continued, after a moment of observing Hermione and her boyfriend, “you’re right. That’s just…”

“Weird,” Neville finished for him.

“He doesn’t look anything like me,” Harry continued to argue, frowning, “I mean, look at him! He’s way skinnier…”

“Actually, he’s rather buff,” Lavender noted as she joined the group.

“…and he’s really pale…”

“Which is not like you at all, Harry,” Seamus laughed.

“…plus his eyes are blue and he doesn’t wear glasses!”

“You’ve got a point there, mate,” Ron admitted with a nod.

“But chuck a pair of wire rims on him, and, well…” Dean added.

“And what, Thomas?” Harry spat, glaring at Dean, “that bloke looks nothing like me!”

“Okay, okay!” Dean conceded, holding his hands up in defeat, “you two look nothing alike! Bloody hell, Harry!”

“Well, I still think…” Luna started but was cut off by a quick “give it a rest” from Ron. Harry didn’t say anything, but kept his eye on Hermione and Dan, who were laughing away with some of their friends. She looked happy, really happy, which made Harry feel quite lonely.

Soon, their group melted away leaving only Harry, Ron and Neville standing together, nursing their drinks. It was a little while before Hermione noticed them and came over to say hi. She introduced Dan to Neville and soon they were all talking about this and that like they were old friends. Harry had to begrudgingly admit that Dan was a pleasant chap and seemed to genuinely care for Hermione. For some reason, this knowledge grated him.

The night progressed with a group of girls introducing themselves to the three young men, both Ron and Neville enjoying the attention. Harry found Alex, the young blond who was flirting with him, quite alluring but his attention kept being drawn to Hermione and Dan.

It was around eleven o’clock when he saw that Hermione was finally alone. Excusing himself from Alex, he went straight to Hermione.

“Hey,” he greeted, grabbing her attention.

“Harry!” she cried, giving him a hug, “how’s it going? Are you having fun?”

“Yeah, this is good,” he told her casually, “haven’t seen too much of you though.”

“Well, no, sorry about that,” she said seriously, “I guess Dan’s taken up a bit of time. Not that you should worry though – I saw you talking to Alex!”

“She’s a friend of yours?”

“Yep, she’s in my British Politics class,” Hermione smiled which melted quickly away to a sombre expression, “I heard about you and Ginny,” she said, “I’m so sorry Harry. I really thought you two would be the ones to work out.”

“It’s not often you’re wrong.”

“I wish I hadn’t been wrong about Ginny though,” Hermione carried on, “she made you happy.”

“Yeah, she did,” Harry admitted, looking at his feet, feeling an unexpected wave of sadness. Taking a deep breath, he remembered why he had come over to talk to her.

“You and Dan seem to be getting on well,” he said with a touch of bitterness.

“Dan’s lovely,” she replied, her brow creasing slightly at his tone, “I have fun with him.”

“Like you had fun with me?”

“What do you mean by that, Harry?”

“It’s just that, a couple of months ago you were telling me you…you,” he glanced around him to see who could hear him. No-one he knew was near, but to make sure, he grabbed her elbow and pulled her further away, “you were with me,” he whispered angrily, “I just wonder if you actually meant what you said to me. You seemed to have moved on pretty quickly.”

“Pardon me?”

“You heard me,” Harry snarled, “you and Dan are all over each other. You told me…you told me that I was it…”

“And you turned me down!” she hissed, her anger growing.

“So you just go off and pull the first bloke that comes along…”

“How dare you, Harry Potter,” she whispered furiously before subtlety cast a few well used privacy spells, “I told you how I felt about you, which I realise now was a huge mistake, but I thought you would just forget it and move on. How wrong was I…”

“That has nothing to do with this…”

“It has everything to do with this!” she cried, “do you know how difficult it’s been for me to get over you? Do you have any idea of what I’ve gone through just so I don’t dream about you every night, wanting you with me, touching me? When Dan starting asking me out, I kept telling him no, telling him that I was in love with someone else and I could never give him what he deserved. I turned him down again and again, remembering you and what we had. Even though I knew I’d never have you, you were holding me back.

“When you didn’t answer my letters, or even just ask me how I was doing, I had enough. I had to move on, Harry, have a life without you in it.”

“I thought we were friends…”

“You’re not behaving like a friend. A friend would be happy for me, like I was for you and Ginny.”

“She broke up with me because of you,” Harry snipped, “did Ron tell you that?”

“She…she what?” Hermione stuttered, “why?”

“She wanted me to choose between you and her. I chose you.”

Hermione stared at him in shock and he revelled in it. He was getting some sort of perverse pleasure about upsetting her and part of him knew it was because she was happy without him and he didn’t like it.

“I…I didn’t know that,” she breathed.

“I don’t know why though,” he shrugged, catching her gaze, “especially when you’re off shagging a Harry Potter look-alike. Bad form, Hermione.”

“You. Bastard,” she spat, her eyes brimming with tears, “how could you?”

“More to the point, how could you?”

She didn’t reply, and instead walked right up to him, stopping inches away and glared into his face, her tears starting to fall.

“For your information,” she told him low and controlled, “I haven’t slept with Daniel, because my time with you was special to me and I didn’t want to spoil it. But now, now there’s nothing holding me back. For the first time since I’ve known you, I don’t like you Harry. Happy New Year.”

With that, she rushed past him, knocking him with her shoulder. He watched her go and all the anger, all the joy he felt at her pain went with her. In its place was guilt. He had hurt the one person that loved him, that had stayed by his side through thick and thin, the one person in his life that didn’t deserve it.

He had ruined the best relationship he ever had.

“Harry?” He turned to see Alex come up behind him, snaking her arms around his waist, “is everything alright?”

Harry nodded absently, closing his eyes when he felt soft lips on his neck. Turning around, he faced Alex and noticed just how attractive she was, especially now as she smiled up at him. Suddenly, her blue eyes became the deepest brown, a bridge of freckles crossed her nose and the straight blond hair started to turn into a familiar mess of brown curls. His mind was playing tricks on him, but he didn’t care – he just wanted to forget. Dipping his head to her, he kissed her and all rational thought disappeared.

“I was hoping you’d do that,” Alex purred in his ear, “I could make all your New Year dreams come true, Harry. Get rid of that tension for you.”

“I can’t give you a relationship…”

“I don’t want a relationship,” she told him as she nibbled on his earlobe, “all I want is you.”

Breathing deeply, he scanned the crowd for a familiar face. He saw no-one he knew until he spotted Hermione and Dan in deep conversation at the other side of the square. Hardening his heart, he looked back down at the woman in his arms.

“Well, you have me then,” he smirked, then kissed her once more.

The following morning he woke up in a strange bedroom, in a strange bed and the knowledge that he had had sex with a woman he didn’t really know and had no intention of knowing. He looked to his side at Alex, still sleeping soundly, the sheet just exposing the top of her breast.

He felt nothing. Nothing but guilt.

Laying back and staring at the ceiling, he thought about what had happened the previous night, how he had been so cruel to Hermione and then turned to a stranger for relief. He felt terrible and the need to get out of where he was became overwhelming. As quickly and quietly as he could, he began to gather his clothes and put them on. He had got to his socks before he heard Alex stir.

“You leaving?” she asked sleepily.

“Yeah,” he answered, looking over his shoulder at her, her blue eyes looking back intently. With an embarrassed blush, he went back to putting his socks and shoes on.

“I had fun,” she yawned, “you really are quite skilled.”

Harry said nothing as he started on his other foot.

“Here, take this,” she continued, and Harry stood, fully clothed, turning to her. She was sitting upright, the sheet pooled at her hips exposing her breasts with unabashed abandon. She was writing on a card she had fished out of her bag, which had been discarded by the side of the bed, and finished, she handed it to him, “here’s my number and address. If you ever feel the need for some no strings attached shagging, give me a call. If I’m still single and got nothing on, we may be able to satisfy both our needs.”

He took the card with a sense of repulsion – but he took it none the less.

“Thanks,” he mumbled, not sure what he should do.

“Bye Harry,” Alex smiled then lay back down, pulling the sheet over her body and closing her eyes, dismissing Harry without a care. Not needing to be told twice, he left the room and with a thought, left the house.

As soon as he got to Grimmauld Place, he stripped off his clothes and stepped under a hot shower, wanting to get all traces of his one night stand off of him. It was half an hour later when he made his way to the kitchen to get something to eat.

Kreacher started fussing about him, making his meal, while Harry just sat at the table, head in his hands as he continued to kick himself for what he did the night before.

“Harry?”

Harry looked up at the Floo and saw Ron’s head floating there.

“Hey Ron,” he sighed, “come on over.”

“Where did you bugger off to?” Ron asked as soon as he stepped into the kitchen, “I saw you go off with Hermione and then you just seemed to disappear…”

“Yeah, well,” Harry started, but then noticed the look of concern on his friend’s face, “is everything alright, Ron?” he asked.

“Actually, can I talk to you about something?”

“Sure,” Harry replied, slightly concerned – Ron looked very serious.

“Last night I…er,” Ron stammered, blushing terribly, “that’s to say, we um…”

“We?”

“Yeah, Lavender and I…”

“You and Lavender? Lavender Brown? Your ex-girlfriend, Lavender Brown?”

“Yeah,” Ron sighed heavily, “we kinda got back together.”

“Really?”

“Yeah,” he continued, “I mean, it was New Year’s Eve and we’d both drunk a bit and when everyone scarpered, we kinda just, well, we started snogging and then…”

“There’s more?”

“Yeah,” Ron blushed, “we ended up at her place, her parents were out at a party, and we…well, you know.”

“You shagged Lavender Brown?” Harry gasped, not hiding the shock from his voice.

“Yeah,” Ron admitted, his shoulders sagging, “it just seemed to kinda…happen. I mean, it’s not like it was the first time…”

“You’ve had sex with her before?” Harry cried, forgetting his breakfast totally.

“At Hogwarts,” Ron nodded, glancing briefly at Harry before returning his gaze to his clasped hands on the table.

“You never told me!”

“It was when Hermione and I were going through our…thing,” Ron explained, his blush deepening, “and you and her were still friends. Besides, it’s weird talking to you about this stuff…”

“Why?” Harry asked, frowning, “we’re best friends!”

“And you really tell me all about your love life,” Ron humphed, “not that I wanted to hear, especially since you were dating my sister.”

“Nothing happened like that between me and Ginny…”

“It’s none of my business,” Ron interrupted sharply, “I don’t want to know.”

“Right,” Harry conceded, then changed the subject, “so, what’s wrong with getting back together with Lavender?”

“Well, it was a bit of a nightmare the first time,” Ron sighed, “and I don’t really know if I want to go through it all again.”

“But you slept with her!”

“I know,” Ron sighed again, “and she was right keen to carry things on when we woke this morning. Perhaps I should. I mean, now that Hermione’s not in the picture, it might actually work with Lavender.”

“I guess you kinda owe it to her,” Harry suggested, knowing how hypocritical he was being. He had no desire to contact Alex at all yet he had done the same thing as Ron.

“I guess,” Ron agreed, lost in thought, then sighed once more, “I suppose I should go. Haven’t been home yet.”

“Right,” Harry stated succinctly and watched as Ron didn’t move but just sat there, thinking. It was a few moments later when Ron pulled himself out of the chair and tiredly left Grimmauld Place. Harry let out a sigh of relief that his own escapades weren’t discussed and with a heavy heart, began eating his breakfast.

Two days later, he was back at training, once more isolated from his friends. He had spent the remainder of his holiday with Ron, when he wasn’t working at the shop, and moping around London. Now back into the relative safety of the Auror Training College, he worked hard on forgetting.

He was doing quite well, until one night Neville asked him a question.

“So, what were you and Hermione fighting about New Year’s Eve?” he asked casually as he slumped down onto his bunk after a hard day’s combat practice. Harry’s heart started beating wildly immediately.

“When?” he asked back, trying to pretend he didn’t know what Neville was talking about.

“Just before you went off with that Alex girl,” Neville continued as if they were talking about the weather, “it looked quite heated. Hermione was pretty upset afterwards.”

Harry couldn’t look at Neville as he tried to work out what he was going to do. Part of him wanted to say that it was nothing, it had nothing to do with Neville and he should just back off. But another part of him needed to talk to someone about everything that was going on with him. He couldn’t talk to Ron and now he had lost Hermione as well.

He needed to tell someone.

Taking a deep breath, he began to explain everything to Neville, from the moment he woke up from his dream of a family and happiness, to Hermione’s confession, to their night together and ending it with his one night stand with Alex. Neville listened intently, saying nothing until Harry had told all. Even then, there was silence for a moment as Neville took it all in. Harry just waited, feeling better for actually getting it all off his chest. But he was interested in what his friend was going to say.

“I thought it was something big,” Neville said finally, Harry just nodded, “you know, you’re really being a prize git, Harry.”

“What?”

“You. You’re a git,” Neville confirmed, looking up at Harry with a hardness that was so foreign on the friendly features, “you’ve got your best friend, the person that knows you better than anyone, the person that has been there for practically every major event in your life, telling you that she loves you and you go off and shag someone else? Not only that, you expect her to sit around waiting for you even though you’ve made it quite obvious to her that you don’t want her.”

“I don’t expect her to wait…”

“Right,” Neville sneered, “so what’s all this rubbish with you and Dan. I spoke to him, he seems nice enough yet he isn’t good enough for Hermione? Why’s that, Harry? Why is alright for you to have a relationship yet she can’t? Why does her best friend belittle the new man in her life, treat him like an idiot?”

“How do you know he’s alright?” Harry shot back, “you met him, what, all of ten minutes – how do you know he’s not a tosser?”

“How do you know he is?” Neville replied, “the thing is, I trust Hermione and I trust her judgement. If she says this Dan Carter bloke is alright, then I believe her – more to say about you.”

“It’s just that,” Harry started, running a hand anxiously through his hair, “I thought… I thought I was important to her but she’s replaced me already. It hurt…”

“So you wanted her to hurt,” Neville finished for him, “Harry, you’ll always be important to Hermione, always.”

“It doesn’t matter now anyway,” Harry continued, slumping down on his bunk, “she hates me. I hate me. I really am a bastard.”

“She doesn’t hate you.”

“How do you know?”

“Because I know her,” Neville hissed at Harry, getting up and standing over him, “and I thought you did too! Bloody hell, Harry, she’s been your best friend for years! Do you really think she’ll just walk away from you! She should, but she won’t because for some stupid reason, she loves you! She’d give up her life for you if you ask her and you’re treating her like some insignificant slag you picked up in a pub! What’s the matter with you?”

“I don’t know,” Harry admitted wearily, accepting Neville’s accusations without argument, “how do I fix this, Nev?”

“Apologise to her,” Neville answered immediately, “explain why you did what you did. Accept Dan and just be the best friend that you’ve always been.”

“It’s different now…”

“Why? Because you slept together? Because she loves you? Harry, she’s always loved you and always will. You got on fine when you didn’t know, you need to get past it.”

“How? How can I forget about the first time someone told me that they love me?”

“No-one’s ever told you that before?”

“No.”

“Not even Dumbledore? Or Sirius?”

“No. I kinda knew that they did, and they said they cared. But Hermione’s the first…” Harry’s voice faulted as the truth about what was eating him struck him. Closing his eyes, he tried to force away the tears that threatened – he was not going to cry in front of Neville.

“Harry,” Neville carried on, sitting next to Harry on his bunk, “heaps of people love you, you know that, don’t you.”

“I guess,” he answered quietly, “but she’s the only one who’s actually told me. I have no idea what love is. I thought I loved Ginny, but I didn’t. And when Hermione told me, well, it knocked me for six. I’m so messed up, I don’t know what to think or do or feel. And we’re stuck in this bloody training camp without a chance to think about anything but being a bloody Auror and I’m sick of it.

“New Years Eve, everything came to a head. Ginny had dumped me, Hermione was blissfully happy with a bloke that seems to have a striking resemblance to me and here was I – Harry bloody Potter – alone again, with the one person who said that they loved me obviously loving someone else.”

“She doesn’t love Dan, Harry.”

“Maybe she should,” he mumbled, “she’d be better off with him. I’d cause her nothing but grief.”

“Is that what you were trying to do?” Neville asked just as quietly, “were you trying to make Hermione hate you so she would move on?”

“Sounds very noble doesn’t it?”

“You do have noble written all over you Harry,” Neville smiled slightly.

“I don’t know,” Harry sighed, “if I did, it wasn’t a conscious thing. All I wanted to do was stop her being so bloody happy.”

“Well, I can say you were successful there.”

“Thanks.”

“Look, I can’t say I’m any expert on relationships and girls,” Neville continued, “but I’m a good listener. And it’s just you and me for the next six months so if you ever need to talk, I’m here. You need to sort yourself out Harry, you need to work out what you want…”

“What do you mean?”

“What I mean is – do you want Hermione as more than just a friend, are you willing to give her a chance? Or will you let her go fully so she can live her life and you can live yours? Because at the moment neither of you have let go.”

“When did you get so smart?” Harry asked after a moment of thought, “and you seem to know Hermione very well, Longbottom.”

“She was the first person who saw me as more than a podgy idiot,” Neville answered softly, “she helped me when no-one else even knew I existed. Hermione is a very special person and she will always hold an important place in my heart.”

“Wow,” Harry frowned, “do you…do you love her, then?”

“Maybe once,” Neville admitted with a shrug, “but I knew it was only one sided and she would never see me as anything than her friend. Her heart was already taken by you. I’ve moved on – but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t mean anything to me, because she does. And I won’t let you continue to hurt her.”

“You’re a good friend, Nev,” Harry gave a slight smile, “to her and to me. And I promise I won’t intentionally hurt her again.”

“Good, because I would hate to try and beat you to a bloody pulp, you being the saviour of the wizarding world and everything.”

“True,” Harry chuckled, giving Neville a hearty whack on the back as his roommate went back to his bunk, “thanks Neville. For listening.”

“That’s okay,” he told Harry as he turned out the light, “but I meant every word, Harry. You need to make a choice, you need to apologise to Hermione and you need to stop hurting her like you did.”

Harry nodded in the dark as he tried to think about what had just taken place. The facts were whirling through his brain, only to be snuffled out by the exhaustion from his long day of training. As his eyes grew heavy he had at least made one decision. He would owl Hermione in the morning pleading for her forgiveness. He wasn’t sure he’d get it, but he had to try.

There was too much to lose.

A/N 2 – so, what do you think? Do you hate Harry? At least Ginny’s out of the picture now…Oh, and I had to put the Ron/Lavender thing in there ‘cause I just thought it was funny how JKR never got the boys discussing girls or sex or stuff like that. They lived in a dorm and sure, there was other things going on but they never, ever once discussed girls. I liked the idea of Ron being more experienced since he always came second in everything else…

A/N – well, some very polarised reactions to the last chapter, which I expected. I guess I just wanted to make Harry human and not perfect because, quite frankly, no-one is, really. I think there is some redemption in this chapter…

Thank you to all who have reviewed, some quite extensively! I do read every review (and even replied to a couple this time) and appreciate them immensely.

Righto – not too long to go now…

Chapter 6

Okay

That was all Hermione said after his apology, but it was enough. She didn’t tell him what was going on, just that she had forgiven him – he had to live with that.

Not that he had much time to delve too deeply into what may or may not be happening in the outside world. The first lot of exams were set for the end of May and the five months of his life since the start of the year seemed to be consumed by classes and studying.

After the harrowing two weeks of exams had finally ended, the recruits left their isolation to start their on-the-job training with qualified Auror’s at the Ministry. It meant that Harry could return to Grimmauld Place and that he had a day off a week to catch up with his friends.

His new partner was a chap named Paul Smith, who, on the outside, was as unremarkable as his name. But Harry found out quite quickly not to underestimate the fifty-one year old and had immediate respect for the man. Paul also showed none of the awe or fan-like enthusiasm of Harry’s fame as others in the department – and the Ministry – showed. Sometimes Harry wished he was back to the seclusion of the past year, locked away in some secret place with only a few around him. Instead, he had to endure requests for pictures and autographs wherever he went.

Not so strangely, Harry became very apt at disguises and concealment charms, preferring to be unrecognisable when out and about. He also spent any free time he had in the Muggle world where no one knew him at all. It made him wonder how he would ever be able to do his job successfully as he couldn’t walk around anywhere in the wizarding world without being harassed.

Which was what was happening as he stood in the Atrium waiting for Paul so they could go to lunch. He hadn’t disguised himself as he had planned to storm through the Atrium to the lifts then have lunch at a Muggle café. But Paul had forgotten something so now he stood in full view, trying not to scowl at everyone who came his way.

Trying to be polite to the sixth person who had asked for his autograph, he heard his name being called by a voice he would recognise anywhere. Grinning, he turned to see Hermione striding towards him, beaming.

“Oh, I hoped I’d see you around,” she said when she was close enough, “I heard the trainees were now at the Ministry but I wasn’t sure if you were able to be visited! My, look at you!”

“Hey Hermione,” he smiled, engulfing her into a hug without really thinking about it, “what are you doing here?”

“It’s summer holidays so I’m working here full time until September,” she explained, still holding his hands in hers, “gosh, it’s good to see you.”

“Actually, I’m surprised you didn’t hex me,” Harry told her honestly, “especially after the last time we met.”

“You apologised and I forgave you,” she stated matter of factly, “though you do have some making up to do.”

“How ‘bout taking you out for lunch for starters then,” cut in Paul, who had arrived while they had been talking.

“That would be nice,” Hermione agreed with a smile, “we can catch up.”

So after some introductions, shooing away of persistent fans and an escape into Muggle London, Harry and Hermione were sitting at a pub sipping on glasses of tonic water.

“I must say, you’re looking rather fab, Harry,” she said as they sat down, “Auror training really does agree with you.”

“Thanks, I guess,” Harry replied with an embarrassed blush, “they do work us out a bit.”

“Are you enjoying it?”

“I don’t know,” he frowned, “sometimes.”

“You don’t sound very enthusiastic.”

“It’s just that,” Harry paused as he thought about it, his frown deepening, “I feel like I’m just doing it because everyone expects me to do it. I’m not particularly brilliant yet everyone assumes I can do anything they give me. Drives me mental.”

“Oh,” she sighed sympathetically, “will you stay on?”

“Probably.”

“You could always leave…”

“And do what?” he groaned, “there’s nothing else I can do!”

“I’m sure that’s not the case…”

“How ‘bout you?” he interrupted, desperately wanting to change the subject, “how is school?”

The next little bit was spent with Hermione telling him about her classes and how horrid her exams were and how the law department at the Ministry had dropped from twenty to eight because of the war. He was enjoying hearing her talk about her life and it was like the mess of New Years never happened. Remembering Neville’s words, he knew he’d have to bring up Dan sooner or later as she seemed to make sure she didn’t mention him. As their food was served and Hermione paused in her conversation, Harry decided it was now or never.

“So, how’s it going with Dan?” he asked what he hoped was casually. She looked up at him in surprise.

“Are you sure you want to know?” she asked back.

“Yeah, I do,” he carried on, smiling slightly, “look, I know I’ve been a prat when it comes to you two but if he’s a part of your life, I need to accept that. He seems to make you happy.”

“He does,” she admitted shyly, “he’s a really nice bloke, Harry.”

“Well, I’d be disappointed if you fell for someone horrid,” he joked weakly, “so, you and him are still going strong?”

“Yes, we are.”

“That’s really good, Hermione.”

“Thanks,” she blushed, “hey, what about you and Alex? Have you spoken to her since New Years?”

“You know about Alex?”

“Considering she told anyone who would listen about her activities that night, I’m afraid I do,” she chuckled.

“Bloody hell,” Harry groaned, hiding his head in his hands, “I’m so sorry, Hermione. I didn’t mean…”

“Don’t worry about it,” she tried to reassure but when Harry looked back at her, he could see the hurt in her eyes, “you’re a young man and I know Alex. Once she gets set on someone, nothing will get in her way.”

“Still, that was well out of order,” he muttered, “especially after what I said to you…”

“It’s all in the past.”

“Can you really let it go that easily?” he asked, knowing he was walking on shaky ground.

“I have to,” she told him firmly, looking at him straight in the eye, “your friendship means too much to me to give up on it.”

“You’re friendship means a lot to me, too,” he admitted, “I thought I’d really messed it up, I really did. I’ve been such an idiot.”

“Yes, you have,” she agreed, “you really hurt me, Harry.”

“I know, and I’ll do anything to make it up to you. I’m so sorry, Hermione.”

“So, are you ready for the ball on your birthday?” she asked suddenly, completely changing the subject.

“No,” he answered sourly, “I really wish they wouldn’t do stuff like this. Kingsley assured me this would be the last that I have to attend.”

“I still chuckle when I think you will never have to work on your birthday ever again,” she grinned, “considering it’s now a public holiday.”

“Well, I’m glad you find it amusing,” he grumped, “because it’s just plain embarrassing.”

“You should be proud of yourself.”

“Are you bringing Dan to the ball?” Harry questioned.

“No,” she sighed, “he doesn’t know I’m a witch yet.”

“What?” he cried, “Hermione, you’ve been going out for months!”

“I know,” she sighed again, “there just never seems to be the right time.”

“You can come with me then,” he told her, then blushing as she looked up at him in surprise, “as a friend,” he hastily added, “I mean, I’m not taking anyone and you’ll be on your own. I’m guessing Ron will be taking Lavender…”

“Ron and Lavender broke up on Valentine’s Day,” Hermione informed him with a smirk.

“Really?”

“Yes,” she carried on, still grinning, “but it seems he’s found someone else…”

“Who?”

“Well, Luna’s name is coming up quite a lot in conversation…”

“Luna?” Harry repeated, surprised, “our Luna? The girl Ron thought was more mental than you?”

“Thanks for that, Harry,” Hermione rolled her eyes but still smiling broadly, “but yes, ‘our Luna’. Since he opened the store in Hogsmeade…”

“That’s right,” he nodded, “I’d forgotten about that.”

“…her name is often mentioned. Oh, and Ginny’s dating a Ravenclaw called Simon, in case you didn’t know.”

“I didn’t know,” Harry frowned as he tried to work out how he felt and realised he felt nothing, “good for her, I guess.”

“Are you okay, Harry?” she asked softly.

“Yeah,” he answered, once more smiling, “yeah, I am. This has been fun, catching up. Just like old times.”

“It has been nice,” she smiled at him, “we should do this again what with both of us now at the Ministry.”

“I’d like that,” he agreed, and as he paid their bill and began the walk back to the Ministry, they discussed how Harry would just meet her in the Atrium at one o’clock if he’s free. If he’s not there at one, she’ll have lunch on her own.

Over the following weeks, they managed to have lunch four or five times with each catch-up as relaxed and fun as the last. Harry visited Ron on the first Sunday he had off but vowed the following week he’d visit Teddy and Mrs Tonks – the first time since Christmas.

Nervously standing at the door, he shifted the small posy of flowers from one hand to the other, took a deep breath to calm his nerves, then knocked. Mrs Tonks let out a little cry of surprise before ushering Harry into the house and re-introducing him to the now toddler playing in the lounge. Harry couldn’t believe how much Teddy had grown in the six months since he saw him last and found himself quickly enjoying the enthusiasm of the little boy.

It wasn’t until Teddy was put down for his afternoon nap that Harry realised how much effort it would be to keep the active child occupied and how difficult it must be for Mrs Tonks.

Sitting down at the kitchen table, sipping a hot cup of tea, Harry looked at Mrs Tonks and saw just how tired she was. A new wave of guilt swept over him.

“He’s a bit of a handful,” Harry ventured after a while, “keeps you on your toes.”

“He certainly does, the little mischief,” she replied fondly, “but I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“Really?”

“Oh, it would’ve been grand to watch Dora with the little chap,” Mrs Tonks said softly, “and I’m sure Remus would’ve been a brilliant dad, but that wasn’t to be. Teddy is my grandson and I love him to pieces. If I feel exhausted at the end of the day because of a child’s enthusiasm, then so be it. I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“I don’t know if I could do it,” Harry told her honestly.

“Actually, I think you could,” she smiled at him fondly, “you’re a good boy, Harry.”

“But it must be difficult for you,” Harry carried on, ignoring her compliment, “I mean, Teddy’s so much like…” he stopped, realising just in time how tactless he was being. He was going to say how much Teddy looked like Tonks, that seeing her daughter every time she looked at her grandson must be excruciating. Instead, he blushed furiously as he glanced at Mrs Tonks.

“I have my good days and my bad days,” she admitted, her eyes glistening – Harry quickly looked at the table in embarrassment, “but mainly good. Molly and young Fleur have been a great help, especially now that Fleur has a little one of her own. Your friend Hermione has been a frequent visitor too! She seems quite taken with little Teddy.”

“Hermione’s been here?” Harry asked, surprised, “she never told me.”

“From what she’s said, you haven’t been around that much to tell,” Mrs Tonks smiled slightly, any trace of her tears gone.

“We’ve been talking heaps these past weeks!”

“I’m glad,” she continued seriously, “she was really quite worried about you…”

“You talk about me a bit then?”

“Your name does come up now and then,” Mrs Tonks admitted, then cocked her head to the side slightly as she looked at him, “can I ask you a question, Harry? Please, feel free to tell me to keep my nose out of your affairs if I’ve crossed the line but, I must say I am quite curious.”

“About what?”

“Your relationship with Hermione.”

“Relationship?” Harry repeated dumbly, immediately feeling heat return to his cheeks.

“There you go,” Mrs Tonks chuckled, blushing herself, “I’ve overstepped the line. You don’t need to tell me…”

“No, no that’s okay,” Harry stumbled out, “it’s just that…well…I don’t really know. Last year it would’ve been easy – Hermione’s my best friend…”

“But now?”

“Now, it’s complicated.”

They both sat in silence for a moment, Harry both hoping the conversation would go further and wishing for it to stop because it was embarrassing to talk about this type of stuff with a woman he hardly knew.

“It was complicated for Ted and I as well,” Mrs Tonks said finally, looking directly at Harry, “what with one thing or another.” Harry didn’t say anything, not sure whether he was meant to or not. It seemed he didn’t need to speak as Mrs Tonks quietly continued, “as you know, my family disowned me after I refused to marry the pure blood wizard they had picked out for me. I walked away from Grimmauld Place without a second glance.

“I came here, to this little village and started my life as a Muggle. I worked in a coffee shop, lived in a little flat in the village and loved it. After a few months, this handsome young man kept coming in to the shop and we started talking. He eventually asked me out and it wasn’t long before we were courting.

“The trouble was, Ted didn’t know I was a witch and I really didn’t know how to tell him. I had heard the rumours that there was a dark wizard gaining strength and that the wizarding world was in danger. I knew I would have to tell Ted soon – but I really didn’t know whether I loved him then. We had only been together four months and telling him what I was required so much trust that I was petrified on what to do. I was so confused about how I felt and whether my initial crush was indeed love. I had no idea – love in my family meant honour and duty.

“In the end, I took the chance. I listened to my heart and it told me that this man cared for me, respected me, loved me and he deserved to know the truth.”

“What happened?” Harry asked when Mrs Tonks paused, caught up in her story.

“I didn’t see him for two weeks. I thought I’d lost him and was devastated. Then one day he turned up to my flat and told me he didn’t care. That he loved me and that was all that mattered. It was at that moment I knew I loved him back.

“We were married a year later with no members of my family present. Dora came along quite a bit later and we were so happy. He was truly a wonderful man.”

“I’m sorry…”

“You’ve got nothing to be sorry for, Harry,” she smiled sadly, “what I’m trying to say is that most relationships are complicated. For Ted and myself, it was because we came from two different worlds. For Remus and Dora, he felt he was too old for her and too dangerous. Even your mother and father’s relationship was complicated…”

“You knew my mother and father?”

“Your mother was a dear friend, even though I was so much older than her,” Mrs Tonks recalled fondly, aware that she now had Harry’s full attention, “which is why I would like to help you.”

“How was my parent’s relationship complicated?” Harry asked, ignoring the offer of help.

“Lily’s feelings for James changed over the years and it confused her,” Mrs Tonks told him, “just like your feelings for Hermione have changed.”

Startled at how the conversation had somehow returned back to Hermione, Harry frowned.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” he muttered, leaning back in his chair and folding his arms to accentuate the fact.

“Okay,” Mrs Tonks agreed, nodding, “I’m sorry…”

“It’s just that…” Harry continued, unfolding himself so he could lean onto the table, not looking at his host, “ever since I’ve known her, I’ve never been attracted to her, you know? I mean, I knew she was a girl and I knew she was pretty. When I saw her at the Yule Ball she looked amazing…but I never thought of me and her together. I never got jealous when she dated Krum or Ron. She was just my best friend who just happened to be a girl.”

“So…” Mrs Tonks started but Harry cut in, not even hearing her.

“Sure, when she and Ron started hinting that they liked each other, I didn’t really want it to happen. But it was because it would mean I’d be left out.”

“Did they…”

“And when everyone kept assuming Hermione and I were together during the Tri-Wizards Tournament,” he interrupted, “I couldn’t understand why. I kept thinking that it was obvious that we were just friends, why couldn’t everyone else see that?”

“Maybe everyone…”

“Besides, I liked Cho then. Of course, that didn’t work out and she even thought I had something with Hermione, but still. Then it was Ginny…”

“Arthur and Molly’s youngest?”

“Yes,” Harry sighed, “every time I saw her, I went crazy. I thought about her all the time, dreamt about her…the short time we were together was brilliant…”

“So why…”

“…Hermione encouraged me, supported me. She and Ginny got on fine. Well, except when Ginny had a go at Hermione that one time…

“But it didn’t matter. All the time when it was just Ron, Hermione and me hunting the Horcruxes, I never once thought of Hermione being more. Even after Ron left and it was just her and me, it never occurred to me that we could’ve got closer. I thought she was missing Ron, I really did. I saw her in her pyjama’s every day! Some nights we’d share the same bed to keep warm! Nothing ever happened because I never, ever saw her that way!”

“Until now.”

“Now, I think about her all the time!” Harry cried, standing up and starting to pace, “I wonder what’s she’s doing, if she’s thinking about me. I see her in that summer dress she wore, I remember how her eyes are the deepest brown, and how when the sun hits her hair, there are so many colours there that it makes her hair seem to dance!

“The thought of her with some other bloke makes me crazy! She makes me crazy! And I don’t know why I’m feeling like this – she’s my best friend, and that’s it! She can’t be more…”

“Why not?”

“Because!” Harry yelled, glaring at Mrs Tonks before immediately calming down and slumping once more into his seat, “I don’t know. Maybe because I’ve spent so long with her being just my friend that the idea of it being more scares me.”

“Maybe you’re right,” Mrs Tonks agreed gently, reaching out and placing her hand over his, “Harry, love is scary just as love is wonderful. You never know where it will lead you, when it will last forever or when it is just a fleeting fancy. But to not give love a chance – oh, honey, you miss out on something magical.”

“What if it doesn’t work out?” he whispered, staring at their hands.

“What if it does?”

Harry looked up at Mrs Tonks knowing that he was close to crying but he couldn’t help it.

“I don’t know how to love,” he breathed, a tear falling down his cheek which he swiped away quickly.

“Yes you do,” Mrs Tonks told him, “I’ve watched you with Teddy, I heard Remus and Dora talk of you and I’ve seen the light in Hermione’s eyes when she tells me of the things you’ve done. You’ve been loving all those around you for a long time, Harry – all you need to do is recognise it.”

Wiping away another stray tear, Harry nodded then took a deep breath to get himself under control. It felt strange to have shared so much but he knew he was better for it. Like talking to Neville, it had given him a clarity that hadn’t been there before and he was grateful.

He left Mrs Tonks with more to think about, but a lot of the turmoil had gone. On his way home, he realised she was right, his feelings for Hermione had changed but she was with someone else. Strangely, he didn’t have the urge for vengeance – she deserved to be happy and Dan was making her happy. Instead, he decided that he would be the best friend he could be. Her birthday was still a few months away but he planned to make it the best birthday she ever had.

His own birthday was horrid. The ball held in his honour both embarrassed him and reminded him of all that he had lost. The only bright spot was the fact that Ron and Hermione never left his side, with Neville, Luna and even Ginny (with her new boyfriend) making the night bearable. Still, he accepted the placards with humility before leaving early and retreating to Grimmauld Place with his friends.

On one of his days off, he waited for Dan outside the place he was working at for the summer and asked him what he had planned for Hermione’s birthday. Hermione had told Dan that she never did much for her birthday so nothing special had been organised. Harry told him of what he had thought and over a couple of beers, the two young men worked out what they were going to do.

Harry was pretty pleased with himself.

In the meantime, he had started to go on missions and such as an Auror while still frantically learning the laws and rules needed to guide them when out on the field. With every passing day, it became more obvious to Harry that Neville was the better Auror and that Harry wasn’t enjoying it as much as he thought he would.

September arrived with Hermione leaving the Ministry and returning to university. Although their lunches had got fewer as Harry spent more time out in the field, he hated the fact that the option of seeing her during the day had been taken away.

With her birthday now only days away, he started to get nervous. It had been planned at a Muggle bar so her parents, school friends and even some relatives, could attend. Those of the wizarding persuasion were getting used to handling themselves in a Muggle environment and Harry couldn’t see there being a problem.

Yet, as with so many things in his life, it didn’t go to plan. The mission he, Neville and some other Auror’s were called to took longer than anticipated so they were both an hour late and Harry was starting to lose it.

“How do I look?” he asked Neville as they sat in the back of the taxi as it wizzed through the streets of Oxford.

“Fantastic,” Neville replied absently as he frantically did up his tie, not even looking in Harry’s direction, “especially for a bloke who isn’t planning on pulling tonight because he’s after another bloke’s girl.”

“I’m not after her,” Harry scowled.

“Right,” Neville retorted, finally relaxing in his seat, “that’s why for the first time since you’ve known Hermione, you’re throwing her a birthday party.”

“We couldn’t before, we were at Hogwarts!” Harry tried to justify; Neville answered with a snort, “what?”

“How many birthday presents have you bought Hermione?”

“Presents?”

“Yes, presents, you daft git,” Neville repeated, “gifts and such like. For her birthday. How many?”

Harry thought about it, thought about it hard and realised the best way to answer is to say nothing. He knew he’d bought Hermione Christmas presents, but birthday presents seemed to have been few and far between.

“Just like I thought,” Neville continued smugly, “and now you’ve organised a huge party just for her. Of course you’re not trying to impress her so she will leave Dan and come running to you. You’re a shocker, Potter.”

Just as he was about to respond, the taxi pulled up at the bar he and Dan had chosen so his reply was lost in the payment of the fare and them making their way through the crowds to the private function room up the stairs.

It was full with people laughing and smiling but Harry found Hermione immediately. Neville muttered a ‘good luck’ at him before disappearing to find his girlfriend while Harry just stood there stunned.

She looked beautiful.

“Harry!” His name echoed around the hall as others, along with Hermione, spotted him. Soon he was engulfed in one of her bone crunching hugs, a bemused Dan watching him from her side.

“Hey, Hermione,” Harry managed to choke out, “sorry we’re la…”

“Oh Harry,” she gushed, still holding him, “this is wonderful! You organised all of this for me?”

“You’re having fun then?” he answered, finally being released from her embrace.

“Yes!” she cried, “oh, I can’t believe you found the time to do this!”

He was about to take all the credit, say it was nothing and then bask in her gratitude – but he couldn’t. Dan’s smile was quickly fading and Harry also noticed Neville standing nearby with his arm around his girlfriend, Kelly, watching him with interest.

“Actually, I didn’t,” he finally admitted with a smile, “Dan did most of it and to be quite frank, he did a bloody brilliant job. I just gave him some ideas and a bit of dosh.”

Hermione’s attention turned to her boyfriend, hugging and kissing him in thanks. Harry caught Neville’s eye and accepted his friend’s slight nod of approval with an inward sigh. Just as he was about to go and try and find Ron, who hadn’t yet made an appearance, Hermione turned back to him, grinning.

“Thank you Harry, this is…” she paused and suddenly frowned, “is that blood?” She reached out to his forehead, with Harry doing the same, cursing to himself as he felt a gash that he’d missed when cleaning himself up after the mission.

“It’s nothing…” he began but gave up when he saw the familiar gleam of concern in Hermione’s eyes.

“What happened?” she asked as she took a hanky and started to clean it up, “is this why you were late? Are you alright? Are you hurt anywhere else?”

“Hermione, I’m fine,” Harry assured, removing her hand from his face gently, “it’s just a scratch, nothing more. Go – have a good time. Don’t worry about me.”

He watched her go with a pang of regret, but shrugged it off and scanned the crowd for Ron. He spotted Alex amongst a group of girls and the passing thought that he could replicate New Years Eve tonight crossed his mind – but he discarded the idea quickly. The whole ‘one night stand’ thing didn’t suit him and he didn’t want to go through that again. No, tonight, he’ll be going home alone.

Eventually he saw Ron talking to one of the girls from the Ministry, so with a grin, Harry made his way over to his friend, determined to have a good time.

Which he did. He even danced once or twice but most of his time was spent talking to his friends. Hermione kept coming up to him and making sure he was okay, trying to pry more information out of him (and Neville) about the mission and whether he had more injuries, but also ensuring he wasn’t standing on the sidelines alone and bored. He constantly assured her he was anything but bored.

By eleven-thirty his long and tiring day finally caught up with him and after saying his farewells, he went home. With the following day one of his blessed days off, Harry slept in until midday, where he was woken up by Kreacher who told him that Ron was downstairs and wanted to talk to him.

Putting on some clean clothes (and telling himself he’ll shower when Ron had gone), Harry shuffled down into the kitchen where breakfast and Ron were waiting for him.

“What’s up, Ron?” he asked with no preamble, still full of sleep.

“Just wanted to see how you were doing,” Ron answered casually, eyeing Harry’s cooked breakfast hungrily.

“I’m fine,” Harry told him between mouthfuls, ignoring Ron’s longing, “and you?”

“Fine,” Ron answered, “really good, actually. Me and Tania, that girl I was talking to, are going out again. Can’t believe I haven’t seen her around before.”

“What about Luna?”

“She and I are just friends,” Ron shrugged, “that’s all.”

Harry nodded and carried on eating. When Ron didn’t say anything else, Harry glanced up and practically saw the drool dripping out of Ron’s mouth. With a chuckle, he asked Kreacher to whip up another breakfast before going back to his own.

“What’s the real reason you’re here, Ron?” Harry questioned, finishing off his plate, pushing it from him then leaning back in his chair so he could watch his friend. He noticed the colour hit the redhead’s ears and the small pause in eating – something was up.

“You left early, and I just wanted to see if you were okay…” Ron started, not looking at Harry.

“And?” Harry prompted, knowing that wasn’t the truth.

Ron stopped, debated with himself for a moment then looked at Harry.

“What’s going on with you and Hermione?” he asked.

“What do you mean?” Harry blurted, startled by the question.

“Look, I know she’s with Dan, and he seems a reasonable sort of bloke,” Ron started, flustered, “and I know you…well, you said you loved her like a sister when we were in the forest. But that was a while ago, and last night you kept looking at her. Do you fancy her or something?”

Ron’s question came out in a rush and now his entire face was red. Harry was ready to deny the notion but then decided that he shouldn’t. Ron was his best friend and would find out somehow anyway.

“Yeah,” he sighed, then clarified with, “I fancy Hermione,” when he saw the look of confusion cross Ron’s face. It felt good to have it out in the open but there was still some doubt on how Ron would react. When there was just stunned silence, Harry waved a hand in front of Ron’s face, trying to get some reaction. When Ron finally focused on Harry, he asked, “do you have a problem with that?”

“No,” Ron shook his head in confirmation, “but blimey Harry, she’s with Dan now. And they seem really happy!”

“I know.”

“What are you going to do?”

“Nothing,” Harry shrugged, “she’s with another man who makes her happy. What can I do?”

“Bloody hell,” Ron exclaimed, his mind suddenly miles away, but then with a shrug of his shoulders, he went back to his breakfast, “I wouldn’t worry about it though mate,” he advised between mouthfuls, “she’ll come back to you. It’s always been you. You just wait.”

Ron’s advice stuck in Harry’s head as he went back to work and began the paperwork that went with the last mission. It was Thursday before he and Paul were called out again, this time to a disturbance in Kent. They had it under control and another Death Eater arrested, allowing Harry to trudge home in the early evening. Stepping out of the Floo, he found Kreacher nervously sitting at the table.

“Sir,” the elf cried as soon as he saw Harry, “oh sir! The Miss is outside! I’s tried to get her to come in, but she wouldn’t! I’s tried…”

Harry left the kitchen and went straight into the darkness of the September night to find Hermione sitting in the square.

“Hermione,” he cried as soon as he spotted her, “why didn’t you come inside? You must be freezing!”

“I need to tell you something,” she told him as she stood up, her arms wrapped around her.

“Okay,” he frowned in confusion, stepping towards her to usher her to the house, “come on, let’s get you inside and warmed up.”

“No,” she stated firmly, backing away from him. Harry stopped abruptly.

“Hermione, what’s wrong?” he asked quietly.

“I just wanted you to know that Dan and I broke up today,” she announced, a sob making her pause.

“I…I’m sorry,” Harry tried to console while his heartbeat increased in rate, “why? I…I thought you two were strong…”

“He asked me to choose,” she interrupted and in the glare of the lamplight Harry saw her look at him, her glassy, tear filled eyes boring into him with sadness. The pain in her face took away any words of condolence that Harry could think of as his mind went blank with shock. Even after all this time, after all that he’d put her through, she still chose him.

Before he could gather his wits, she turned on her heel and disappeared into the darkness. When he heard the soft crack, he knew she had gone.

A/N – thanks again for the reviews, I’ve loved reading them. Well, this is the second to last chapter but still a last dash of angst before the fluff. I hope you enjoy.

Chapter 7

The news of Hermione and Dan’s break-up didn’t take long to go around the group of friends. Hermione had shut herself off after her visit to Harry, but he heard that things had been a bit tense after her birthday, Dan upset at how close she was to both Harry and Ron. He then confronted her, saying they had been dating for nearly a year now and he thought it was time he became more important. She told him that he was but Harry and Ron were important to her too; he said it wasn’t good enough and she’d have to choose.

Neville had found this out, he being one of the few from the wizarding world she would see. Luna had also been allowed a visit but Harry and Ron were told to stay away until she was ready.

It was near Halloween when she walked into the Owlery, where Harry and Ron were having a few quiet beers. Harry’s heart swelled at the sight of her and after a moment or two of uncomfortable ness, the three began to chat and soon things returned to normal.

Both Ron and Neville started giving Harry advice on what he could do to get together with Hermione, Paul even adding his two pence in. But Harry was ignoring all their comments and just enjoyed his time with her. He wanted to be sure about everything before he said or did anything – he didn’t want to hurt her in any way.

As his final Auror exams approached, the more Harry thought he was in the wrong profession. He enjoyed the comradery of his workmates, the bond that they all had – but he hated the job. He hated the uncertainty of surviving the missions they were sent on, he hated the people he was dealing with – and he hated being apart from his friends.

Which was why he was in a foul mood, hunched in a tiny room with Paul, another Auror, Carlson, and their boss, McKinnon, not sure if this was one of the many secret ‘assessments’ the recruits were now getting or a real stake-out. Either way, it had been five hours of sitting in the dark, damp, smelly place watching a supposedly warded building and waiting for a sign of their foe.

It had been deadly quiet and Harry was bored out of his brain. Another reason he hated the job – hours of sitting still and waiting, something he wasn’t particularly good at.

“Longbottom?” Carlson’s voice broke the silence from his vantage point at the window overlooking the street, “what the hell is he doing here?”

“The idiot,” McKinnon growled, going over to Carlson and looking out into the street, “this isn’t his assignment. He’ll ruin everything!” But Harry’s mind went into overtime. Neville took his job very seriously, and was brilliant at it – he wouldn’t risk everything without a reason. Harry quickly turned his omnioculars to the street and onto his friend, noticing he was carrying a book and looking as casual as all the other people wandering pass. Focusing on the book, Harry’s heart stopped as he saw the title – ‘Hogwart’s: A History’.

Something was wrong with Hermione.

Dropping the omnioculars to the ground and ignoring everyone around him, he scrounged through his pockets until he found the coin that Hermione had formulated for the DA meetings. Using a spell that he and Neville had worked out in case one of them was in trouble and needed the other, the coin glowed.

“He’s stopping,” Carlson told them, “he’s coming this way!” McKinnon swore as Harry stood to face Neville when he entered the room, releasing the wards to allow him entry. As soon as Neville came in, Harry was at him.

“What’s wrong?” he asked frantically, “where’s Hermione?”

“Susan Bones is working with Muggle relations at the Ministry and overheard news that a witch had been taken to hospital in Oxford,” Neville told him quickly, “when she heard Hermione’s name, she came to find you but found me instead. It sounds like she’s hurt quite badly.”

“I…I need to go,” Harry stammered, the thought that Hermione was badly hurt stunning him somewhat.

“You can’t leave, Potter,” McKinnon snapped, standing in front of the door, “you’re in the middle of a mission.”

“I don’t care. You lot can do this,” Harry snarled, ready to push his way out, “I’m going to see Hermione, let’s go Neville.”

“If both of you leave, your careers are over,” McKinnon continued harshly, “you will have failed the course and will not be Auror’s! Is she worth that?”

Harry paused and thought. After a few moments, he turned to Neville.

“Nev, stay,” he told his friend, “you’re good at this, you want this. Don’t give it up now.”

“But…”

“I let you know what’s happening as soon as I can,” Harry interrupted, “but she’d be right pissed off if she finds out that you’ve given up your dream because of her.”

“What about you?”

“This isn’t my dream anymore,” Harry answered with a smile, knowing it was the truth. Neville thought for a moment, then nodded, handing Harry a small piece of parchment.

“Here’s the name of the hospital,” he instructed quickly, “I owled Ron and told him to meet us at the Granger house. He should be there.”

“Thanks,” Harry said then glanced at Paul, who had stood by Harry’s side, “sorry to let you down, mate,” he told his partner.

“You haven’t, Harry,” the older man smiled, “good luck, son.”

Harry just nodded then faced his boss.

“You’ve just lost the ‘Famous Harry Potter’ from your squad,” he snipped, daring the man to restrain him, “I don’t think it would pay to lose your top recruit as well. Neville can take my place here and any penalty for him coming here with this message should be taken up with me. Do you understand?”

McKinnon didn’t answer, just glared back at Harry. With a final glance to Paul and Neville, Harry ignored his now ex-boss and Apparated to Oxford.

He found Ron pacing around the front garden, pale and worried. The redhead looked up at Harry’s approach, following Harry when he didn’t go up the driveway and instead continued walking down the road.

“What do you know?” Ron asked briskly, easily keeping up with Harry.

“Just that it sound’s like she’s badly hurt and that she’s in hospital,” Harry replied, glancing at Ron, “you?”

“Same,” Ron frowned, “do you know where this hospital is? Can we Apparate?”

“No,” Harry informed him, checking the traffic before crossing the road, “but I know where the taxi stand is. Come on, let’s go.”

With that, Harry started to jog, then run, determined to get to Hermione as soon as he could. Though he was fitter than Ron, Ron kept up easily with his long strides and it wasn’t long before they found a taxi and was on their way to the hospital.

“Neville said he had to find you,” Ron panted, catching his breath, “were you out on a mission?”

“Yeah.”

“And you just left?” Ron continued, “bloody hell, Harry – it could’ve been an assessment!”

“It probably was,” Harry shrugged, “McKinnon was there. Though, he’s been at a lot of my missions so who knows.”

“You’re gonna be in serious shit, mate,” Ron told him worriedly.

“No, I’m not,” Harry shrugged again, “because he fired me. If anyone’s going to be in serious shit, it’s gonna be McKinnon. Still, he’s always treated me like all the other recruits, I’ve gotta give him that. If it was anyone else, they would’ve been fired too.”

“But fired?” Ron repeated, “blimey, Harry…”

“I don’t care,” Harry snapped, “this is Hermione, Ron.”

“I know, I know,” Ron agreed, leaning back heavily in the seat, “I left the store in the hands of Sharon bloody Fingerwort. If she had a brain cell, it’d be lonely. Trustworthy though…”

“Here you are gents,” the taxi driver interrupted and as he paid the fare, Harry started to panic. He wanted to see Hermione, to find out what had happened, what was wrong with her. But the idea of her hurt badly terrified him and he wasn’t sure if he could handle it.

“Harry?” Ron called out, breaking into Harry thoughts. Seeing his friend’s worried face, Harry’s resolve returned and breaking once more into a jog, they entered the busy hospital and after asking for directions, found themselves at the intensive care unit.

The first person Harry saw was Dan standing to the side, talking to a couple of policemen. Harry felt himself stumble slightly as he noticed the front of Dan’s shirt – it was covered in blood.

“Mr Potter, Mr Weasley,” both boys turned to the sound of a familiar voice and saw Professor McGonagall making her way towards them, Mr and Mrs Granger with her, “I wish it was in better circumstances to see you again…”

“Where’s Hermione?” Harry asked, looking past his old teacher, at that point not really caring why she was there, and instead looked at the Grangers for answers, noting the tears in Mrs Granger’s eyes, “what happened? How is she?”

“Hermione’s in surgery,” Mr Granger explained, hugging his wife to him, “she was rushed there the moment they brought her in. She has massive internal injuries but…but they won’t tell us more at this stage.”

“What happened?” Ron asked quietly.

“She…she got hit by a car,” Mr Granger told them, “one of those huge SUV things. The driver was on his cell phone and didn’t see her…”

Harry couldn’t believe it. After everything they’d been through, after all the dangers they had faced, it was a Muggle accident that could take her from him. Taking a few deep breaths to get himself under control, he looked at Professor McGonagall.

“Why are you here, Professor?” he asked her briskly.

“Our contact here recognised Miss Granger the moment she entered the emergency room,” the professor answered, “the Ministry were notified and then she contacted myself, thinking that Madam Pomfrey would be able to help as she knows Miss Granger’s medical history the best.”

“So, are we transferring Hermione to St Mungo’s?” Ron questioned his old teacher.

“No,” Mrs Granger replied before Professor McGonagall could.

“It would be better for her there,” Ron carried on, glancing at Mrs Granger as he did so, “they could heal her much faster…”

“No!” Mrs Granger repeated firmly, “we will not let you take our daughter from us again! She is my baby, my little girl and I will not be pushed aside like an insignificant…thing. We are her parents and she needs us!”

“But…”

“She stays here, Ron,” Harry interjected softly.

“Harry,” Ron objected just as softly, “our Healers could…”

“She stays here,” Harry interrupted firmly, giving Ron a look that told him to stop. His friend got the message, nodded in understanding and stayed silent.

“Thank you,” Mrs Granger said tiredly, “and thank you for both being here. We really appreciate it.”

Harry wanted to say something supportive, something comforting, but couldn’t think of anything that could remotely make things better. Instead, he noticed Dan had finished with the police and had gone and sat alone on one of the hospital chairs, his head in his hands. Excusing himself, he went over to Hermione’s friend and sat at his side.

“Hey,” he ventured. Dan looked up, saw it was Harry and gave a wry smile.

“Hi Harry,” he greeted with a weariness that oozed from every pore.

“What did the police want?” Harry asked with what he hoped was casualness.

“I saw it all happen,” Dan answered, leaning back in his chair, “they needed a statement. It seems they caught the bastard that hit her.”

“He didn’t stop?”

“No,” Dan growled, “evidently he had had a few beers at lunchtime as well as deciding to have a phone conversation while driving. Tried to deny that he’d done anything wrong even though there were at least ten other witnesses and his car had damage. Unbelievable.”

“You…you helped her?” Harry asked, awkwardly indicating to Dan’s bloody shirt.

“I tried,” Dan snorted as he run a hand through his hair, “not that I could do much. There was so much…she was pretty bad.” His voice cracked and he quickly turned away from Harry.

“You were with her,” Harry reasoned quietly, “at least she wasn’t alone.”

Dan didn’t reply and instead nodded sadly. The two of them then sat in silence as they waited, Ron joining them after a while. The minutes grew into an hour and a half with Harry’s worry growing the longer Hermione’s fate was kept from them – and he could tell that he wasn’t alone with his increasing concern.

It was close to two hours before the doors opened and a group of people walked towards them; two in surgical scrubs, one that could only be the Healer from St Mungo’s and Madam Pomfrey, her face sombre and drawn.

As one, Dan, Harry and Ron stood while Mr and Mrs Granger went to the doctors, Professor McGonagall a respectful few paces behind them.

“Mr and Mrs Granger,” the man in the surgical scrubs greeted, “I’m Doctor Stephens, I am the head surgeon with your daughter’s treatment. Perhaps we could go somewhere more private to talk?”

“No, no, you can tell us all,” Mr Granger instructed nervously, holding onto his wife tightly.

Harry listened to this stranger talk about Hermione in numb silence. He didn’t take in many of the details, as phrases like ‘massive internal injuries’ and ‘drugged induced coma’ over took everything else. When they were told that Hermione only had, at this stage, a thirty five percent chance of survival he was sure the world stopped. He vaguely heard Mrs Granger’s sobs and vaguely was aware that Ron had draped an arm across his shoulders in an unusual attempt of comfort but other than that there was just numbness.

There was a good chance that Hermione could die. He could lose her forever.

He blinked when he heard his name, realising that the Granger’s were telling the doctors that himself and Ron were family and they could visit. He glanced at Dan, saw the look of realisation on the man’s face, the knowledge that he was no longer part of Hermione’s life, and whether the Granger’s meant to be insensitive or not, he realised he had been cut off.

Harry knew that the Granger’s concern was solely for their daughter and what was right for her, not really thinking of much else. Dan knew it too, and with a small sad, smile at Harry, turned and walked away.

Hearing his name once more, he realised he was being asked whether he wanted to see her. He noted that the Healer, Madam Pomfrey, Professor McGonagall and the woman in surgical scrubs had grouped together while the Grangers were with Doctor Stephens. Decisions were being made on Hermione’s future and he wanted to be part of that. Telling the Grangers they’d be there soon, he indicated to Ron and together they went over to the other group.

“She should be transferred to St Mungo’s immediately,” the Healer proclaimed, “if she is to survive, she needs to be under magical care!”

“I’m afraid I agree with Syril,” Madam Pomfrey added, “Miss Granger is in terrible danger. Her best chance is with our care.”

“Adam and Helen prefer her to stay here…” Professor McGonagall put forth.

“Would they prefer their daughter to die?” the Healer spat.

“Of course not,” the professor snapped, “your comment is uncalled for, Healer Stopic.”

“I am just speaking the truth,” Healer Stopic replied haughtily.

“Hermione stays here,” Harry spoke up, glaring at the Healer, “unless you can guarantee that Mr and Mrs Granger can visit their daughter at St Mungo’s?”

“Well, that cannot happen,” Healer Stopic grumbled, “if we let in Muggles then the whole of the defences would collapse!”

“Then she stays here,” Harry emphasised, “we’ll find a compromise. Hermione needs her parents and we’re not denying them anymore.”

“Mr Potter,” Healer Stopic began, standing up to his full height (and still only coming up to Harry’s shoulders), “I appreciate your position, but this is a medical matter and you may not have Miss Granger’s full condition…”

“Healer Stopic,” Harry cut in, now scowling, “I am fully aware of the facts but I need you to understand this. Hermione’s parents are Muggle born. They want to be with their daughter, who they’ve been told may not last the night. Hermione and her family have given the wizarding world a lot, so the wizarding world is giving them this. She stays here, we find a compromise that uses both the Muggle technology of this hospital and the magical expertise that you can provide and we will not let Hermione die.”

“I agree with Mr Potter,” the woman in the surgical scrubs said in the silence that followed Harry’s statement. Harry turned to the stranger with interest.

“I’m sorry,” Professor McGonagall quickly said, coming up to the stranger, “Mr Potter, Mr Weasley, this is Doctor Trembath. She is the Chief of Surgery here and is our contact. She is also an old friend.”

“Keeping Miss Granger here while still getting magical care can be organised,” Doctor Trembath instructed as she took off her surgical scrubs to reveal a smart business suit, “we just need to plan things.”

“How?” Ron questioned, “I mean, how are you going to explain if she suddenly makes a remarkable recovery because of a potion or something?”

“At this stage, Doctor Stephens is the only other person with an extensive knowledge on Miss Granger’s condition,” the Professor continued, “I have already told him that I have a personal interest in this case and will take over primary care. He will hand over her charts after this meeting with her parents. We can hand select the ICU nurses that know the meaning of discretion which would mean we can keep the number of staff aware of her progress quite limited.”

“You can really do all of that?” Ron asked, frowning.

“I am the head of this department, Mr Weasley,” Professor Trembath told him, “I can do all of that.”

“There are certain procedures that will need to be performed that cannot be witnessed by Muggles,” Healer Stopic warned, “she will need to be in a private ward.”

“That can be arranged,” Professor Trembath nodded thoughtfully, “however, it does cost extra than if she stayed on a public ward. I’m not sure whether the Granger’s…”

“I can cover all expenses,” Harry interrupted, “don’t worry Mr and Mrs Granger with talk of money. Shift Hermione into a private ward. If the nurses need to be paid to stay silent, let me know. She is to get the best of care.”

“I understand,” Professor Trembath smiled.

“I am sure the Ministry will also help cover costs,” Professor McGonagall added, “considering the service this young lady has given to us all.”

“We will also need someone to liaise with the family, staff here and staff at St Mungo’s,” Professor Trembath continued, “ensuring that all parties are kept informed and decisions are made with the knowledge of all.”

“I’m afraid both myself and Poppy must return to Hogwarts,” Professor McGonagall informed them, “term has started and I must be there. In fact, we must get back rather soon.”

“I…I can’t,” Ron advised hesitantly, “I can’t leave the shop for too long and it’s the busiest time of the year for us. I’m sorry, but this is our first year and…”

“It’s okay Ron,” Harry cut in, “I’m unemployed now and I’m planning to stay here until she’s fine to leave anyway. You need to make sure the shop works.”

“You sure?” Ron tried to confirm and Harry could see his conflict.

“Yes,” Harry acknowledged, “and I know Hermione will understand.”

“She’s gonna kill you, though,” Ron tried to joke, “losing your job like that!”

“Yeah, I know,” Harry smiled weakly, before quickly sobering up, “you’ll come in with me, to see her now, I mean. You’ll…you’ll be with me, right?”

“Of course, mate,” Ron assured with a weak smile of his own.

“How about I take you two into see Miss Granger now,” Professor Trembath suggested gently, “Minerva, if you could spare Poppy for a little bit longer so she, I and Healer Stopic can discuss her care more fully, I would be grateful.”

“Of course, Kate,” Professor McGonagall agreed, “though I must get going. Poppy – a quick word? Mr Potter and Mr Weasley, I will stay in touch and please don’t hesitate to contact me if you require any assistance you think I could offer.”

Harry nodded and watched as his old professor turned and walked away, the school nurse in her wake. Realising just how nervous he was, he started when Professor Trembath asked if they were ready and then led them to the doors Doctor Stephens and the Granger’s disappeared through before.

The stray thought that in the past, every time he had gone to face something emotionally scary that he had held onto Hermione’s hand in for support, that she had been the one with him, knowing he would need comfort and giving him that strength by a simple touch.

Hermione wasn’t by his side this time and he knew reaching out for comfort from Ron wouldn’t be the same on so many levels. He felt alone and scared.

They walked down a corridor of bustling nurses and glass walled rooms containing sick people connected to tubes and wires. When they finally came to Hermione’s room, Harry didn’t recognise her and thought they had stopped at the wrong bed.

He heard Ron swear and saw Mr Granger look up at them with watery eyes. Professor Trembath began explaining what all the machines were, what they did and how they either kept Hermione alive or monitored that she was still alive. Harry listened because part of him knew he needed to know so he could help take care of her.

But he couldn’t believe the tiny, fragile girl lying in the bed was the strong, vibrant woman he was in love with.

“I…I gotta go, Harry,” Ron whispered and Harry could hear the fear in his friend’s voice. He just nodded to let Ron know he heard and understood before making his way to the bedside and sitting down. Her parents were holding onto the hand that was free of needles – that hand lay at the side Harry was sitting at. Gently, he took the cold, lifeless, wounded hand in his own and stroked the small piece of skin that didn’t have any sign of medical intervention.

The following days were surreal for Harry. He and the Granger’s were constantly by Hermione’s side, only leaving to use the toilet. The plans the medical staff had made went into action, and although there were no outward signs of improvement, there were assurances that because she was still alive, what they was doing was working.

Harry found himself listening to Mr and Mrs Granger’s stories with genuine interest as they reminisced about their time with their daughter, telling him of tales of a Hermione Harry didn’t know. Sometime the stories were told with tears but most of the time it was with humour and Hermione was always included, asked for confirmation of details even though there was no expectation of an answer.

He and the Granger’s became close and he could see how Hermione’s sometime’s stubborn desire to do what is right and need to look out for those less fortunate came from the ideals of her parents. He also learnt that Hermione had shared a lot of her time at Hogwarts with her mum and dad, but they had been unaware of the true nature of some of their adventures until they had been over.

By the third day, when Hermione was taken off the ventilator and was now breathing on her own, Harry was calling her parents Adam and Helen and their routine at the hospital was set.

Ron visited most evenings, once with his father, but was uncomfortable and awkward so rarely stayed long. Neville also visited, telling Harry of the fall-out from his dismissal, but his main concern was solely for Hermione and Harry felt a rush of gratitude for his friend.

On the fourth day, Hermione gained consciousness for a brilliant, brief moment, giving the first real indication that she was going to live. By the fifth day, she woke again when Harry had been sent home to have a shower and change his clothes (which, by even his standards, were getting rather smelly). By the time he returned, she had fallen back to sleep leaving her tearful parents to tell him the news.

It wasn’t until day six that he got to speak to her for the first time. Mrs Granger had gone home to have a nap leaving Mr Granger and Harry with Hermione. Harry had just gone to the toilet to return to find Hermione talking to her father. She heard him enter the room and turned and looked at him, her brown eyes once more full of life.

“Hey you,” he managed to choke out, trying to stop the emotion that was threatening to engulf him.

“Aren’t you supposed to be at work?” she asked in response and Harry laughed, the first time for a long while.

“Well,” he began as he sat down in his chair, smiling at Mr Granger, “there has been some complications with regards to that...”

“I see,” she answered thoughtfully, “let me guess – you got fired.”

“You know me so well,” he joked but stopped smiling when she didn’t return his laugh.

“Oh Harry,” she gushed instead, “why?”

“They made me choose,” he shrugged and he saw the recognition of his words cross her face. She didn’t say anything and after a few moments, talk resumed about other things and the miracle that was Hermione being alive.

The next few days saw Hermione being moved from one private room to another where the focus was more on rehabilitation and getting Hermione home now it was clear she was going to make a full recovery. Harry was there every step of the way, welcoming friends into her room (making a point of telling Hermione Dan’s part in her survival). Within a week, she was given the all clear to go home.

Discussion about her care once she got home happened both with and without Hermione until a final solution had been agreed upon. Now they just had to sell it to the reluctant patient.

“I found a new job,” Harry told her the day before she was due to leave, smiling when her eyes lit up with anticipation at his news.

“That’s wonderful Harry!” she exclaimed, including her parents in her gaze, “what is it? Are you back at the Ministry?”

“Well, no, actually,” Harry started, inwardly cringing at what he knew was to come, “something much more important than working for the Ministry.”

“Really?” she said, puzzled, “oh, come on Harry – tell me!”

“Okay,” he took a deep breath, “I’m going to be looking after you, be your nurse, so to speak.”

“What?”

“I’m going to look after you,” Harry repeated, not liking the frown that was sitting on Hermione’s brow, “your parents have agreed to let me stay in the spare room and I’ll be there to keep you company and help with your rehab while they’re at work…”

“You’re going to look after me?”

“Yeah,” he continued on enthusiastically, “of course, you’ll get a real nurse to help you shower and dress every morning, and Helen will help you get to bed – until you can do it on your own. But everything else…”

“Harry,” Hermione interrupted, “you can’t look after me – that’s ridiculous! You can’t go from being an Auror to a baby sitter! It’s totally absurd!”

“No it’s not,” Harry told her seriously, leaning forward and taking her hands in his, “this is what I want to do. Please let me.”

She looked at him intently for a few moments before uttering an exasperated “honestly” and Harry knew he had won.

It was the first of December when Hermione was wheeled into the hallway of her home. For the weeks that followed, Harry got her meals, took her out shopping, helped her with her exercises and made her smile. He was having fun and every day made him realise how much he loved her and knew that he needed to tell her and tell her soon.

Christmas was just around the corner and Hermione was now walking and, according to her last check up at St Mungo’s, was one hundred percent cured. Harry had no excuse to stay at the Grangers any longer but remained silent as no-one else mentioned him leaving. He liked it there and knew that when he would eventually have to go back to Grimmauld Place, he would miss the Granger’s terribly.

It was Christmas Eve and the couple were walking towards the now familiar graveyard at Godric’s Hollow. They walked hand in hand, like the first time they had visited, their breaths coming out in cold puffs although both were respectfully silent.

“I can’t believe it was two years ago when we came here for the first time,” Harry whispered as they stood at his parents graves.

“I know,” Hermione replied just as quietly, “it seems like a lifetime ago. So much has happened…”

“And things have changed,” Harry cut in, looking down at Hermione as he did so, catching her gaze. Something in his heart gave a twitch – she looked absolutely beautiful. Her cheeks were tinted red by the winter chill and there was a depth in her eyes that just blew him away. He could see her love for him on her face, a tenderness that he had only ever seen coming from her.

She quickly looked away from him, her eyes fixed on the snow at her feet.

“I don’t think I’ve ever said sorry to you,” she said after a moment or two.

“Sorry?” Harry repeated confused, “what for?”

“For how I handled everything,” she explained, looking back at him, “after the war. I was so selfish, doing things because I wanted to and not really considering how they would affect others. I put you in a very awkward situation and I treated Dan terribly. I…I had a long chat with Daniel and apologised. And I also owe you an apology as well. I made such a mess of everything and I’m so sorry.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” Harry smiled at her, “I mean, I’ve spent most of our friendship taking you for granted, just expecting you to always be there for me without even thinking of what that meant for you. What’s happened this past year and a half has made me see what’s always been there but I’ve never really noticed before.”

“What’s that?”

“How important you are to me and that I can’t lose you.”

Before she could say anything, he bent down towards her and kissed her, softly at first until he felt her respond to him, giving him permission to intensify the kiss. Her arms wrapped around him, as did his around her, and it felt wonderful. It felt so natural, so real, as if this is where he was supposed to be. She was all he needed. She was home.

He felt the emotion bubble up inside of him, and it made him pull away. She looked at him with surprise though a small smile told him she was alright. He moved his hands from her waist to frame her face, holding it gently so he could remember how she looked right now forever.

“I love you,” he told her, his voice thick as he tried not to cry. Hermione pulled back slightly, her smile faltering under his intensity.

“What?” she choked out and Harry was sure he could read all the emotions that crossed her face – hope, fear, happiness.

“I love you, Hermione,” he repeated, more strongly this time, “I think I have for a very long time but I’m a bit slow about these sort of things.”

“Oh, Harry,” she sighed, now smiling broadly as she reached up and ran a gloved finger down the side of his face, “I have to say that you have been rather dense.”

“Yeah, I know,” Harry chuckled before asking her seriously, “so, do you still love me?”

“I’ve never stopped,” she replied, accentuating her statement with a kiss.

“Do you want to go somewhere warmer?” he asked her when they came up for air, his desire for her growing with every kiss.

“We’re visiting your parents,” she answered with a small smile.

“I’m sure they’ll understand if this visit isn’t a long one,” Harry smiled back, and he noticed the glint in her eye, “Hermione, I’ve wanted you for so long now, and after that last kiss, I don’t think I can wait too much longer.”

“You’re complaining about me keeping you waiting,” she chided, “have you got any idea, Mr Potter, how long I’ve waited for you?”

“You don’t have to wait for me any more,” Harry whispered to her, his voice low and husky as he bent towards her and kissed her once again.

“Take me home,” she groaned into his mouth and when he pulled back in surprise, thinking she meant Oxford, she clarified by adding a throaty “your home,” before returning her lips to his.

Later that night, as he held Hermione to him, her head resting on his chest as she dozed, he realised how different their love making had been this time around. Before, the aftermath had only brought confusion and uncertainty. Now, he felt complete as if being with Hermione had finally filled that need that had been with him all his life.

Before, he had known Hermione loved him. Now, he could feel her love and the fact that it was returned made everything more amazing.

“We should get back to my place,” Hermione muttered tiredly, “my parents will start to worry.”

“Perhaps I shouldn’t go back,” Harry ventured as he wrapped one of her curls around his finger, released it and found another to repeat the action, “things have changed,” he began, “and your parents entrusted me being in their house with their daughter with the knowledge that we weren’t together therefore there was no risk of me sneaking into your bedroom at night and doing what we’ve just done.”

“And now you will?” she asked, fully awake and looking at him with a quizzical quirk of an eyebrow.

“Well…” he joked, pretending to think about the option seriously.

“Honestly Harry,” she sniffed, “as if I would let you. My parents sleep right next door, for goodness sake!”

“True,” he carried on, thoughtfully, “still, there are spells to stop any noise, and…”

“Harry!”

“I’m kidding,” he laughed before quickly sobering up, “though I don’t want to do things wrong by your mum and dad.”

“You won’t,” Hermione assured, leaning on an elbow so she could look him in the eye, “you have to be there for Christmas day, Harry. It’d be strange if you weren’t.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” he grinned, kissing her gently, “and I’ve been looking forward to waking up Christmas morning with you for so long.”

“So have I,” she breathed, “and maybe next Christmas we will be able to sleep in the same bed.”

He smiled at her, hoping that that would be the case.

It was the best Christmas he had ever had. He could tell Adam and Helen knew his relationship with their daughter had changed even before they told them and was truly touched when they welcomed him to their family. It seemed the idea that had been festering in his mind for the last few weeks was written across his face for all to see – everyone who saw him asked him when he would be asking Hermione to marry him.

It was only a matter of time.

A/N2 – poetic licence with the hospital stuff. Not really sure if what I wrote would actually work but, hey – it’s fiction. Sorry if there are any glaring ‘now, that just wouldn’t be the case’ with the whole accident thing. Thanks for reading and only one more chapter left.

A/N – not sure if this is what you were waiting for but its full of lovely fluff, no angst (well, okay, just a little bit) and yet another variation on the epilogue of DH. Hope you like it. Thank you for staying with me on this short journey. I am writing another short one so…

Chapter 8

The grip of the tiny hand in his tightened as they made their way through the gateway to Platform Nine and Three-Quarters. Harry looked down onto the curly-haired head of his daughter with slight concern.

“Is everything alright, Holly?” he asked his little girl, who now paused as the rest of the Potter family continued into the fray of Hogwarts students. Holly’s twin sister, Rose, was with Hermione – her mass of curls dancing in excitement as Rosie bounced on her feet trying to look at everything at once.

“Come on,” the twins’ older brother, Sam, called out to his sisters, “let’s go and get a carriage before they all go!” Immediately, Rosie left her mother and went to Sam, ready to follow him anywhere.

Holly stayed next to Harry.

When Rose realised her sister wasn’t with them, she turned in surprise.

“You coming, Hols?”

Harry watched Holly shake her head slightly, telling her sister no in silence – a decision that Rose accepted with a nonchalant shrug of her shoulders as she once more was ready to run off with Sam. Harry glanced over the top of his daughter’s head to Hermione, asking her with a look if she knew what was going on. His wife copied Holly by shaking her head ever so slightly, telling him wordlessly that this was his and she’ll leave him to it. Harry nodded, indicating that he understood, and looked back down to the quiet little girl at his side.

Rose Lily Potter was ten minutes older than her sister and a mirror image in everything except personality. Both girls took after their mother in looks – fly away, uncontrollable brown curls, teeth that had needed to be corrected and an intelligent spark that made them both much older than their tender years.

Yet it was Holly that resembled Hermione in temperament; her strong will, her sense of fair play, her love of books and learning – and a sense of responsibility that sometimes stifled the spontaneity that her sister showed in abundance. Where Rose would follow her older brothers (especially Sam) into situations that sometimes were beyond her capabilities (much to her mother’s chagrin), Holly would stay behind in safety…and fret.

Rose had the impetuous streak of her father while Holly was the stable headed, serious reflection of her mother.

Their sons also shared the temperaments of their parents. Andrew, the oldest (a newly appointed prefect and ready to sit his OWL’s this year) had the same leadership qualities that his father had demonstrated throughout his life, plus his father’s daring and skill on a broom. But he also had an intelligence that made him top in his classes at Hogwarts. Popular with both his peers and teachers, Harry and Hermione often joked that Andrew will be the first Potter Minister of Magic as he made the perfect politician. Yet for all his charm, his abilities and his knowledge that he was rather dashing in looks (keeping his black curls cropped tightly to his head displayed his Potter jaw and Granger brown eyes to their best potential), he kept his feet firmly planted on ground.

Sam didn’t.

Now in his third year at Hogwarts, it was Sam who caused the most trouble. Constantly pushing the boundaries before him, he spent a lot of his time in detention – or the hospital wing. Together with Alfie Weasley, the two boys were quickly having a reputation that matched Fred and George Weasley, much to Harry and Hermione’s despair. With a charm that melted the resolve of even the strongest disciplinarian, Sam was also a favourite of Hogwarts.

The fifth child of the Potter household wasn’t a Potter at all. Teddy Lupin had been living with Harry and Hermione since his grandmother died suddenly of a heart attack five years before. Now in his final year at Hogwarts, Teddy wore his Head Boy badge with pride and had plans of being an Auror, just like his mother.

But for Harry, it was the child still clinging onto his hand that had his focus. He tried so hard not to have favourites, and he treated all his children the same – but there was a connection between himself and his youngest daughter that was never exploited but was also not disputed.

Holly was definitely Harry’s little girl.

Crouching down to Holly’s level, he took her hands in his as he tried to read her face to get a clue of why she was so quiet.

“What’s wrong, sweetie?” he asked gently, smiling when eyes that were the same as his looked up through long, dark lashes. Harry had grown up in the wizarding community being told over and over again that he looked like his father but with his mother’s eyes. Now, his two girls were constantly told that they were the splitting image of their mother – yet have their father’s eyes. It always made him laugh.

“Nothing,” Holly replied, shrugging to emphasise her one word answer, yet her eyes darted away betraying her lie.

“You know, I was scared on my first time on the Express,” Harry told her, guessing that perhaps it was nerves that had upset her, “it’s okay to be nervous…”

“But you knew no-one,” Holly interrupted, once more looking at Harry with a bit of fire, “you were all alone! I have Rose, and Sam and Andrew and Teddy! Plus all the Weasley’s! I shouldn’t be scared!”

“But you are?”

“I guess,” she admitted reluctantly.

“It’s alright to be a bit apprehensive,” Harry tried to reassure, “and as you say, you have your family around you. Even me…”

“But that’s just it,” Holly cut in again, this time tears welling up in her eyes, “everyone knows you and mum! I mean, you’re our Deputy Headmaster and the best Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher ever and you saved the world and everything. And…and mum’s nearly the Chief Wizengamot, and changed heaps of laws and things. And now Andy is a prefect this year and the top of the class. Even Sam is really popular. And Rose will fit in where ever she goes, she’ll make friends really easily. But…but I’m not like her! All I am is smart! But…but I’m a Potter! Everyone will expect great things from me because I’m the ‘intelligent twin’. Everyone will expect me to be like mum and…and I look just like her! What if I’m not smart enough? What if…what if I make a fool of myself and let you and mum down? What if…what if I’m just stupid and ugly and won’t make any friends…”

“Holly…”

“…I mean, when mum first went to Hogwarts, she had no friends,” Holly carried on, not hearing her father, “and Uncle Ron said it was because she was a…a insufferable know-it-all! That’s what Sam calls me all the time! Maybe I just think I’m smart and over-compensate! Maybe I’m not smart at all!”

She looked up at Harry in horror, her green eyes glistening with tears.

“Oh, honey,” Harry consoled, engulfing her into a hug, his hand resting on the large clip that kept her curls at bay at the nap of her neck. After a moment, he pulled back and gently wiped away her tears that had finally fell. Holly sniffed loudly, “I didn’t realise you’ve put yourself under all this pressure,” he told her softly, “because you don’t need to – your mum and I would be proud of you, no matter what.”

“Even…even if I’m not as smart as everyone thinks I am?” she whispered.

“As long as you try your best,” Harry reassured, “that’s all we ask of any of you.”

“But what if my best isn’t good enough?” she asked, barely above a whisper.

“Your best will always be good enough,” Harry tried to reassure, “and being a Potter…well, it does mean that there are some people who expect more from you because of your name. But remember, we talked about this. About what to do if others pick on you because of who you are. Do you remember?”

“Don’t retaliate,” Holly replied, still quiet but with slightly more conviction, “ignore them as much as I can. If it continues, tell Andrew or Teddy. If it’s really bad, to tell you.”

“That’s right,” Harry smiled, “and none of the teachers will expect more from you because you’re a Potter. You’re your own person, Holly and that’s all you ever need to be. Because you, Holly Helen, are wonderful just as you are.”

“Thank you, daddy,” Holly gushed, wrapping her tiny arms around Harry’s neck and Harry let out a sigh of relief. He realised that this particular conversation would probably continue at a later date, but for now he had allayed her fears and she could enjoy the start of her years at Hogwarts.

“Blimey Harry, you’re gonna be seeing the kid again in a couple of hours – you gotta let her go, mate.”

Harry felt Holly pull away from him, allowing him to look up at the grinning face of Ron Weasley.

“Uncle Ron!” Holly cried, quickly leaving Harry to hug Ron.

“Hey you,” Ron said, giving Harry a huge stage wink, “now, which one are you? Are you the smart one or the cheeky one? I can never tell…”

“I’m the smart one,” Holly told him with a mock frown.

Harry stood up and watched the interaction of his family and friends with a satisfied smile. Hermione came to him and asked quietly about his conversation with Holly. He told her he’d tell her later, draping an arm across her shoulders and bringing her closer to him.

Ron and Luna started chatting to them, their five children surrounding them in various forms of chaos. Only the two eldest were on their way to Hogwarts – Rupert was now a sixth year while Alfie was with Sam in their third. Colin, Stuart and Kenny were waiting in the wings, with Colin due to start the following year.

Harry loved watching the mayhem that was the Weasley’s. Ron and Luna had got together two years after himself and Hermione got married, but began producing children immediately. Luna seemed to complete Ron in a way that no-one really understood but they were both deliriously happy. Ron still ran the shop at Hogsmeade, which was now a thriving business, while Luna stayed at home and raised the family though still writing articles here and there for her father’s paper.

Sam and Rose had returned and immediately, Sam and Alfie got together and began mucking around. Holly went to Rose and finally seemed to relax a bit – Harry just stood back and watched it all. This was the best part of his life, the part that he enjoyed the most – being with his family and friends.

With Andrew and Teddy talking seriously at the edge of the crowd, Luna trying to placate a crying Stuart and Kenny, Ron playing around with Colin, Alfie and Sam seeing who could burp the loudest, Holly and Rose laughing at the boys antics and Hermione frantically trying to restore order – Harry was content.

“Samuel Sirius Ronald Potter – if you don’t stop that this instant I’ll make sure the only thing you’ll get served for the first week at Hogwarts is Brussels sprouts!”

Hermione’s reprimand tugged Harry out of his haze as he felt her leave him to stare down their son – now as tall as her.

“You can’t do that…” Sam started before cowering under his mother’s glare.

“Try me,” she threatened and immediately the burping stopped. Any further discussion was halted as the train’s whistle caused a sudden influx of activity.

“Sorry mum,” Sam conceded contritely, though shared a smirk with his friend when his mother’s back was turned. Harry smiled along with him, also hiding his mirth from Hermione, then ushered Sam towards the train. Teddy and Andrew gave both Harry and Hermione quick good-bye hugs before disappearing into the train to start their head boy and prefect duties. Sam also wanted to rush off, Alfie having already said his good-byes and had followed his older brother, but instead stayed and waited for his sister’s to say their farewells.

Harry hugged his girls with a sheen in his eyes. He could remember the first time he held them in his arms like it was yesterday, and now they were going to school. Not for the first time, he wondered where all the time had gone. Rosie was soon standing by Sam and this time waited for her more timid sister.

“I’ll see you at the Sorting Ceremony, sweetie,” he told Holly, “you’ll be fine.”

“Love you daddy,” she breathed into his shoulder, making him hug her more tightly.

“I love you too, Holly,” he replied then let her go to her mother.

Hermione stood next to him as their children made their way onto the train. He pulled her close, knowing that she needed some comfort now all her children had gone – his instinct proven when she wrapped her arms around him whilst sniffing back a tear. Sam, Alfie, Rose and Holly were all leaning out of the train window so they could still see their parents, Ron and Luna standing next to Harry and Hermione.

“You’d think,” Sam stated with a small frown, “that they’d all get used to seeing us by now. ‘Specially since dad teaches most of them at school. I wish they’d stop staring.”

“Who says they’re staring at you lot, kiddo,” Ron retorted, indicating to those on the platform that were giving their party clandestine looks, “it could be me, you know. I am incredibly famous after all.”

Harry laughed along with everyone else, but something clicked over in his brain – a memory of something long ago. His brow furrowed as he tried to remember what it was, why that turn of phrase seemed so familiar. His puzzlement paused as the train began to pull away and he waved his good-byes to his children. They waited until the train had fully disappeared before moving off the platform and separating from the Weasley’s, who had to take the remaining children to their grandparents for lunch.

“Are you okay?” Hermione asked as they entered the Muggle part of Kings Cross, “you seem rather quiet.”

“Yeah, I’m fine I guess,” he replied, once more trying to work out what triggered the sense of de-ja-vu.

“They’ll be alright,” she continued – and it came to him. A dream from a life time ago, a dream where he had been married to Ginny and had three children called James, Albus and Lily. A dream where he didn’t touch his wife. A dream where he didn’t speak to one of his best friends. A dream where he hadn’t wanted his godson to live with them because it would mean his sons would have to share a room. A dream where Hermione had been married to Ron whose insecurities had still ruled his words.

“My dream,” he uttered as he stopped when the memories came flooding back. His son’s middle name had been Severus, Neville had been the Herbology professor, Draco Malfoy had a son and for some bizarre reason, Ron had got a Muggle driver’s licence.

“Dream?” Hermione repeated, looking at Harry with concern.

“Yes, dream,” Harry said excitedly, “remember? When I woke up after defeating Voldemort, that really weird dream…”

He could see Hermione try and remember, sifting through the wonders of her brain until she found the memory that was now so vivid for him. He waited as patiently as he could and found himself grinning when he saw the look of recollection cross her face.

“You were married to Ginny,” she whispered, “and I was married to Ron. You had three children…”

“…James, Albus and Lily,” Harry supplied.

“…and Ron and I had Rose and Hugo, I believe,” Hermione finished.

“That’s right,” Harry chuckled, “Ron didn’t like my choice in names.”

“We were seeing the kids off to Hogwarts, just like now,” she carried on, thinking hard, “and you and I didn’t speak.” She looked up at him then, frowning, “what made you recall this, Harry?” she asked.

“Something Ron said, about everyone looking at him not me, because he’s the one that’s famous,” Harry explained, smiling broadly, “he said practically the same thing in my dream. And then you told me that the children will be alright. That’s what dream Ginny told me when the train pulled away.”

“Gosh,” she muttered thoughtfully.

“I can’t believe I once thought that was the ideal,” Harry smiled, looking down fondly at his wife, “that I had ever thought my life would be complete without you being in it with me, by my side. I really was rather stupid, wasn’t I?”

“Well, yes, you were a bit slow on the uptake,” Hermione grinned back at him playfully, “but we got there in the end.”

“We certainly did,” he agreed, kissing her softly, “are you okay?” he asked her as he pulled away, his eyes searching hers to see if there was any sorrow in their depths.

“My babies have all grown up,” she sighed dramatically, “now all I have is you.”

“That’s not so bad, is it?” he questioned with mock seriousness.

“I guess not,” she pouted, “I suppose I’ll cope somehow. Especially since the other girls in your life are now at Hogwarts.”

“True,” Harry replied, “blimey, I’m going to miss those two.”

“So am I,” Hermione admitted, this time all joking had gone. Harry hugged her to him and rested his cheek on top of her head, his mind going over the lives of his daughters, images of his two sons intertwined with them. He had the family he always dreamed of with the woman he loved more than life itself.

All was well.

A/N2 – so there you go, no breakdown of how they got married, like some wanted, just love and happiness. I was trying to work in Neville and Ginny – in my mind, Neville is Head Auror, by this stage, and happily married (to the lady I introduced in this story) with children of his own. Ginny is happily single, working as a Quidditch player or at the Witches Weekly or something like that. There you go, my ‘not in the story’ story (still can’t believe that JKR had to tell us how her characters turned out outside of the series. It really grates me…)

Anyway, until next time – have fun!!