Chapter 4. The Hypothetical Answer
"I would say, sure, go ahead. Now, where do I sign up?"
Harry was so blindsided by her hypothetical question he let go of the first thought that came and it was somewhat unedited.
She burst out laughing almost immediately. Obviously, to her, the suggestion was that ridiculous. He ignored the slight twinge in his chest and tried his best to join her, forcing a smile.
"Forget it, Harry, it was really a bad idea", she said, probably thinking, and rightfully so with the 'fun' he tried to poke into it, that it was a mistake to even ask him about this.
"No, no let me answer it," he insisted as he wondered what would make her ask such a question.
The notion of one last fling was definitely not hers to begin with and he had one good guess who suggested it to her. Though, thankfully, they never talked about her sex life, Harry knew Ron was the only man she had ever slept with. She was not really asking a what-if question.
As a testament to how stressed out Hermione was about getting married, she was actually considering this but the good thing was she was not impulsive. He was part of research and he had to be very careful about his answer.
Their conversation took a more serious tone. He took a deep breath in and told her honestly what he thought.
"Hypothetically, if it was you and you asked me that question knowing I was the only man you've ever been with, I would say, 'If you really want to, do what you have to do'."
"Which really means what?"
"I'd rather you didn't because it would hurt like hell if you did, but it seems important to you so I would let you decide," he clarified and then asked her, "How would you feel if your fiancé asks you the same question?"
"I would call off the wedding," Hermione replied quickly. She had a frown, realizing just how much more there was to her question than she originally thought and perhaps thinking that she should hold herself to her standard.
"It's personal; Ron might think differently, if hypothetically, we were talking about you," Harry added, hoping it would make her feel better.
"Harry…"
"Don't worry, I won't mention anything to him," he interrupted, reassuring her that her secret was safe. "It's a huge step getting married. I can understand why you're a bit tense and thinking crazier than usual. But do you want some advice?"
"It seems I could definitely use some."
"You have Ron. Don't do it. It's not worth it."
"What do you mean?"
"Meaningless sex isn't what it's hyped up to be. Doing it with someone you care about is loads better."
"And this coming from a guy who does this all the time?" the irony of his answer did not escape her.
He said to her once that he did it out of necessity, not choice. She did not see it that way.
"So you know I'm not lying."
"Then tell me, and don't lie. Have you actually made love with somebody you really care about to know this for a fact?"
"Geez, you and your loaded questions today! Of course I have!" Harry answered her truthfully.
I have, hypothetically.
And before she could even think of asking who with he quickly added, "Besides, face it Hermione. There are some things that you are not capable of and this is one of them."
"You really think so? Why not?"
"You're just not the type. You'd never be able to live with yourself," he explained to her, believing this to be fact. Her conscience would gut her out from the inside, particularly because she was with Ron.
"You're right," she replied, and seemingly relieved, perhaps deciding to put the issue to rest. She then looked him in the eye and said something he knew she wanted to tell him for a long time, "But then, I thought that too about you and I was so wrong about that."
"Please don't hold back now," he was joking, again. He had to, because she was about to turn this whole thing to be about him and he was stupid enough to walk right into it.
"Well, it's true," she had that look that she was about to go on a mission.
"I know. I have to repent and mend my errant ways. Somebody, get her some holy water, quick!"
She ignored his attempt to distract her, taking his hands in hers. Fighting reflexes to pull away, he looked at their hands, savouring the moment. Hers were so soft; the pressure just right. He missed this, the touch of someone who in his heart he knew truly cared about him. Yes, as a friend but still, truly cared about him. Hugs, kisses, soothing caresses. They were so few and far between now. He had taken all this for granted and it hurt so bad to realize it was all likely about to go away. For the first time in years he felt like he needed a drink.
"Harry, look at me," she said to him quietly, and she waited, and she waited. Did he really have to? Taking a moment to wipe the last painful thought from his mind, he did as she asked and hoped she would not see the loneliness that was starting to plague him again.
"I wasn't going to say anything but I know something's wrong. You're feeling the same heaviness you felt years ago after your accident."
It wasn't an accident. It was mere stupidity.
"It's so hard to watch you like this."
"Then look away. It will go away, like the last time," he said calmly into her worried brown eyes.
"And then it will come back. You need someone to love who will love you back. And you can't have that if you don't allow anyone into your life. I told you this before; the risk of getting hurt is part of any worthwhile relationship. You can't go on forever with these one-nighters, Harry."
She was right but there wasn't a witch out there who had not heard of Harry Potter and he was determined not to get used again. And he had yet to find a Muggle he could share his past and present with. He had difficulty trusting and that was part of the problem.
"I'm trying," he lied, and she saw right through that.
"You've worked so hard to get out of that valley, Harry."
Back then, I had you to help me get out.
"You can't allow yourself to get on that slippery slope again."
I know. It was such a long way down.
"Talk to me, or someone. Maybe your therapist."
Who, Dr. A.J. Hyde? The fictional therapist I made up years ago so you would stop worrying about me? Not intentionally, Harry overheard Ron arguing with her about how he was sick and tired of her constantly giving Harry attention. After their row, Harry told her to quit acting like his mother. He still remembered how that deeply hurt her.
"Tell me how I can help."
Hmmm…what would Dr. Hyde say?
"It's the wedding," he withdrew his hands from hers.
"The wedding?"
"Your wedding," he said to her, candidly. It was true, her engagement brought about this emotional upheaval in him, "Dr. Hyde said friends' weddings are tough because they change and threaten the continued existence of emotional supports. They also make one think about their own lives, and we both know that thinking about my life is not good for me."
"Harry…" she chastised him for his self depreciating comment. After Hogwarts and Voldemort, his life had not exactly turned out the way he and everyone else hoped it would. "But Dr. Hyde does make sense."
"Dr. Hyde is the best."
"What did he say you should do?"
Any more brilliant ideas he was going to start charging himself for advice.
"He said there was really nothing I could do except accept that things change and we move on. Or hope that you don't marry."
"Harry…" Hermione thought he was joshing.
"Okay, the last part was mine," but again, all true.
"Harry, seriously."
"Okay, seriously," he grinned, mostly at himself. He didn't know which it was but either she really didn't notice or she was deliberately dismissing his veiled comments.
Seriously he hoped they would not get married. He liked the status quo; them living a few feet away from each other. Her frequently bugging him about how he should eat better, asking him to be a guinea pig for her new fruit smoothie concoction or to come over to watch a video with her or go somewhere with her when Ron wasn't around, which was quite a lot. Her marriage was going to disrupt that which he knew he needed but could not find elsewhere.
He turned it back around to her, "But seriously? A last fling? You should know better than to listen to her about how to be in a relationship."
"Funny, she would probably say the same thing about you," Hermione quipped.
Between Ginny and him, Hermione was getting the worst advice she possibly could. They were back in an easy conversation fuelled by Harry's anecdotes of really bad and occasionally preposterous last fling outcomes. Some of them were true; a lot of them were made up. But that was how they spent the better part of that morning in his kitchen, over toasted bagels and fruit smoothies, before they had to leave to go to work.
That night, as Harry watched the Squib at his home, he sat in the dark in a nearby apartment where they had set up surveillance, thinking about Hermione and about her and Ron.
Since their engagement, he felt this tormenting physical desire for her he had never in his life felt for anyone else. It was like hunger that could not be appeased by anything or by anyone. For months he had struggled with it, avoided thinking it, hoping it would pass, but as their wedding day drew closer, his lust for her not only intensified but came with a feeling of urgency; that he had to do something about it. Worse, he did not think it was going to go away with the mere acceptance of the fact that she and Ron were to be married and he did not know what he was going to do about it.
Harry was always deeply fond of Hermione but until recently, he fully accepted that this affection should be mostly platonic. They had known each other more than half their lives, stood beside each other battling a most evil wizard, and supported each other during really trying times. There was intimacy, trust and a bond that could only be forged by what they went through. They had that.
And it was not that he found her unappealing. He always thought she was beautiful in her own way. In his eyes, Hermione was attractive not only physically, but intellectually and emotionally.
There were times, particularly as they searched for Horcruxes during their 7th year at Hogwarts, when his raging hormones would sometimes get the best of him, and he would look at her and imagine what it would be like to kiss her full mouth and feel her warm naked skin alongside his. And the one morning they woke up in each other's arms by accident was so special, even though they were fully clothed, he pretended to be asleep for a good while before regrettably letting her go. (How this happened he never really had the time to investigate, but it didn't seem to bother her).
In those days before she and Ron officially became a couple and after he found out Ginny was dating again, he would think about the possibility of crossing their friends-only-line, perhaps floating the idea over to her to see if that was something she would even consider. But there were too many reasons not to; there was his likely death in the hands of Voldemort, Ron's interest in her, her interest in Ron, and not being able to afford possible loss of a friendship or two whilst they were in the midst of a war.
And after Voldemort, when everyone had a good feeling about everything, he thought about her that way again. It was around the time he was deciding what to do after Hogwarts. He didn't have to but out of courtesy he asked for Ron's blessing, knowing he had always fancied her. Unfortunately, Ron told him he was about to make his move, too. And true enough, they were a couple not one week later. He was too late.
So yes, while theirs had been a platonic relationship for years, it wasn't entirely his initial preference. The attraction remained but he could will himself not to act on it and be content. She loved Ron and she stayed with him all these years. There was nothing to gain by dwelling on something he could not have. Her choice of what he and Ron would be in her life was clear and he could accept that.
Harry consoled himself that what they had was perfect the way it was. They had no demands and no unreasonable expectations from one another. There was little likelihood that what the other did or didn't do would hurt the other's feelings.
Theirs was an easy and rich friendship; she was someone he could talk to about almost anything he would want to talk about, someone who could tell him straight what the deal was. He would not forget how she spent days with him after his fall from Quidditch grace, taking verbal and mental abuse from a depressed drunk she was determined to help. Never did she waver in her resolve and he had her to thank for having this semblance of a life. And he was there for her when she felt so bad the first time she lost a patient and listen as she excitedly rambled about present and future studies she wanted to do.
Really, the only intimate aspect missing from their companionship was a physical connection, something she wanted from and shared with Ron, which he could easily get from someone else. Why risk perfection?
And now this; an overwhelming yearning to have that one thing that was missing from their relationship all these years; to act on the physical attraction that would certainly freak her out and shatter that perfection. He was low but he was fighting with every ounce of willpower he could muster to not betray his best friend and the man who saved his life.
Harry found her relationship with Ron quite strange at first. He was so used to them bickering and arguing all the time, it was disconcerting to him that this was not the case post-Hogwarts. They had very few fights, both seemingly more mature and willing to compromise the unimportant. It was weird but good.
Ron's career as Keeper took off that sophomore year and he was now a seasoned veteran for the more competitive Cannons. Being a professional Quidditch player was hard work. They played between three to four games every week for eight months of the year, a month of pre-season play and a month of team training before that.
Hermione still tried to attend most of his games, watching him play at least once a week and staying with him at their flat closer to the Cannon facility. On occasion, when Ron had a few days off, he would join her in their London condo. She would take four weeks off after the season to spend time with him, either travelling or staying at a cottage, and he would stay with her until the craziness started again. He admired how his best friends were able to juggle busy careers and still be together.
His relationship with Ron was unchanged except for the fact that they saw each other less. Whenever Ron was in London, he would make it a point to have the old Gryffindor gang get together and would always pull him aside for a more private chat to catch up. Ron had grown up a lot since coming out from Harry's huge shadow and Harry was really happy for him. At least there was something good about his not being in Quidditch anymore.
He asked Ron once a few years back when he would ask Hermione to marry him for it seemed like a foregone conclusion he would. His reply surprised him.
"I've asked her every year since we've been together."
"And she's been saying no?"
"Well, close. She's been saying 'not yet'. You should understand why."
He didn't, his perplexed expression telling Ron what he didn't have to say.
"She works a lot; I work a lot. I'll be a Cannon the rest of my professional life. She knows for marriage to work she would have to quit her job here, work more flexible hours and live with me closer to the facility."
Ages ago, Hermione did tell him that she had seen too many failed marriages amongst colleagues who wanted to have it all; husband, children, and career. Ron still had at least seven or eight years to play professionally. And six months ago, when she finally accepted his offer, she decided. After their marriage, she would need a few months to tie up her research at St. Mungo's. Then she could continue what she loved doing at her own convenience in her own lab at their new home and watch every Chudley game Ron would play. As hard as it was for Harry to imagine, Hermione was giving up her flourishing career at St. Mungo's and was going to be a model Quidditch player wife. She would do that for Ron.
Harry thought back on the day he first became aware of wanting her. Ron and Hermione had invited him over for dinner and they told him about their engagement. As he heard it from Ron he was troubled by the initial emotion that he felt. Instead of being ecstatic for them, he was angry at him, envious, jealous of what they had and what they were going to have. He imagined this was how Ron felt back in the days when it seemed Harry had everything he wanted.
With both of them watching his reaction, he forced a smile and his mouth moved. "Congratulations," he said in a voice that seemed to be not his own.
They did not notice, too wrapped up in their happiness, his pathetic misery fading into the background. Ron asked him to be his best man while he kissed her possessively and disgustingly right in front of him. He accepted of course, as he pushed away thoughts of stabbing him with the steak knife right then and there and, if not then, at their wedding reception in six months time. It wasn't a serious murderous intention, he would never act on it, but the morbid thought seemed to make him calmer.
Ron was taking her away, putting her in a house, on a vast property he bought from his Quidditch earnings, a job he got because of him, Queen's cup MVP trophies on the mantle, raising as many red-headed rascals as he could convince her to have. There would be no coming down the hall for her to borrow something of his, or her ringing him to join her for tea. There would be no discussions about whether or not giving House-elves more rights was the proper thing to do or why was the Ministry so blind to the fact that sooner or later, more Aurors would be needed. There would be no more reassuring and comforting talks like the one they had earlier that day, no one to tell how bad his day went, no more Hermione in his life. That was the reality he was about to live with.
Why her engagement precipitated a sudden gush of longing for her physically he still was not certain. Maybe, this restlessness was a desperate attempt to make him do something to satisfy that which he suppressed for a long time while he still could. Maybe, if he had sex with her once, it would go away.
Now kicking himself for giving her sane advice, he wondered. Had he seriously offered to be her last fling, would she have accepted? But if he did that, whatever her answer was, for sure it would mess up their lives.