Trials

A/N – I started this before the release of Deathly Hallows so nothing of that book applies to this story. It has been completed so I will update every two days (hopefully) and this is only five chapters long. Also, I wrote this after I had finished ‘Good Enough’ where I thought I portrayed a weak Hermione and felt I needed to rectify that with a strong Hermione – hence Trials. I hope you enjoy.

Chapter 1

“Hermione?”

She heard her name and tried her hardest to answer, but the pounding in her head made speaking impossible.

“Hermione?” the voice said again, “can you hear me?”

Yes she wanted to say but it was a lot easier just to try and open her eyes and see who was talking to her. The light brought a new type of pain to her already throbbing head, but as the brightness fell away, a familiar sight hit her blurry eyes.

Ron

She tried to smile. He was alive.

“Harry’s going to be right pissed off he wasn’t here when you woke,” Ron carried on, and Hermione felt him take her hand in his, “but the Minister of Magic practically forced him to…”

But Hermione didn’t hear anything more. Ron was alive and Harry was alive, that’s all she needed to know for now. With a weary sigh, she closed her eyes once more and fell back to sleep.

The next time she woke, the feeling that her head was about to explode had gone, making opening her eyes a much easier affair. Immediately she saw Ron and Harry – Ron reading a Quidditch magazine while Harry was looking out of a window. Hermione guessed she was at Hogwarts, the hospital wing so familiar to her from the amount of times one of the boys had ended up there.

Now it was her turn.

Neither of her friends had noticed she was awake so she spent the time trying to remember why she was there. The memories were easy, up to a point, and then things got rather hazy. She remembered the planning of the last battle with Voldemort, that he had been mortal and how it hadn’t worked out as they envisaged.

She remembered the battle had been raging for two days before Voldemort showed himself and at the end it had been her, Ron and Harry that faced him.

Hermione turned to Harry as the memories came flooding back, an involuntary gasp escaping her lips, announcing her consciousness to the two young men in the room. Harry turned to her and in the second their eyes met, the realisation of what she had done to save his life hit her.

Nothing was going to be the same.

“Hermione!” Ron cried, breaking the connection between Harry and Hermione as both turned to the other side of the hospital bed to the grinning redhead, “welcome back!”

Jumbled thoughts and images began to overwhelm her as Ron came to one side while Harry stood quietly on the other. She wanted to say something, they both looked so worried, but nothing made any sense to her and soon the pounding in her brain returned.

She felt her eyes starting to close again as her mind tried to process the mess that was consuming it. She fought hard against the darkness that was threatening to take her away – she needed to talk to Harry – but as she looked at him, she realised it was all too much.

“You’re alive,” she managed to rasp out before the blissful blackness encompassed her once more.

Hermione rushed frantically to Ron’s side, dropping to her knees beside his body as she tried to find some sign of life – a pulse, a breath of air – something. When she felt a slow but steady beat of blood in the artery on his neck, her relief was short-lived – that same blood was flowing steadily out of a wound in Ron’s thigh. Not really knowing what she was doing, but somewhere in the recesses of her mind she knew it was the best thing to do, Hermione quickly undid Ron’s belt and in one swift movement, removed it and quickly wrapped it around the top of his leg, pulling it tight to limit the bleeding.

Looking over her shoulder, she saw Harry and Voldemort circling each other, the older wizard taunting Harry with words Hermione couldn’t hear. She turned back to Ron and knew she had to make a choice – take Ron back to the safety zone, ensuring his survival but leaving Harry alone. Or stay with Harry, giving him whatever support she could although it could mean Ron may die.

Harry and Voldemort began duelling and instinctively Hermione leaned over Ron to protect him, knowing just how futile the gesture was. She had no potions left that could help Ron and he desperately needed help.

But so did Harry.

“I’m sorry Ron,” she whispered as she kissed his cheek. She then cast a few spells that she hoped would keep him alive before slinking off into the shadows.

Harry was faster than his enemy but no where as strong. Already weakened from the battle, he was beginning to tire as Hermione watched from her vantage point. She hoped that Voldemort had forgotten she was there or thought that a mudblood was not worth his time or energy as she waited for the right moment to remind him of her presence.

The moment came and Hermione disarmed Voldemort, allowing herself and Harry to get a rally of spells in before their enemy realised it. But things never run to plan and before she even knew what was happening, a great force picked her up and slammed her into a tree, holding her there by the throat as she gasped for air.

Voldemort was approaching her, his anger and his power surrounding him like some type of horrid aura. Hermione could see Harry struggling, screaming at Voldemort to let her go but was ignored as the thing they had fought for so long concentrated solely on her.

“You thought to disarm me, mudblood?” it asked as Hermione could only gasp valiantly for air, “you are going to die – is he worth it? Is Harry Potter really worth dying for?”

“Yes,” she managed to croak out, fighting against the black spots that had begun to cloud her vision. Voldemort was close enough to smell now, his red eyes mere slits in his inhuman face.

“Why?” he continued to taunt, stepping closer, “oh dear, it isn’t because you love him is it?” Hermione didn’t answer as she felt herself suddenly released, allowing her to fall to the ground. She was still gasping for breath when her head was pulled back by her hair, Voldemort now standing right above her, “answer me mudblood – are you willing to die for Harry because you love him?”

When she didn’t answer him, a pain unlike anything she had ever felt consumed her, a short sharp burst of a curse she had hoped she’d never feel.

“Answer me!”

“Yes,” she said, her voice weak but loud enough to be heard. Voldemort laughed, a cruel vial sound.

“Oh, you need to say it a bit louder than that, I think,” he snarled, pulling her head up by her hair once more, “I don’t think Harry heard you. You see, he needs to know that one more person who loved him died for him – add it to the list, so to speak. Now, what did you say?”

“I said I’m in love with Harry Potter. I love him completely, with my heart and my soul,” Hermione replied strongly, readying herself for her death that she knew would soon be coming. Her heart softened slightly with the knowledge that even in this evil place with this evil man, Harry knew that someone loved him. At the end, someone loved him.

Voldemort smiled at her then.

“How quaint,” he smirked, “but really, he’s just not worth it.” Her head smashed to the ground and as she waited for the killing curse to take her, she smiled sadly to herself and whispered

“Yes he is,” then her world went blank…

…for mere moments before something very white and very bright jarred her awake. The remnants of her dream were still clouding her mind, making it seem so real that she was sure she could still feel the remnants of the Cruciatus curse.

It was then that it struck her – it hadn’t been a dream at all. She had left Ron to die, had been tortured and then killed by Voldemort who was then going to kill Harry.

But she wasn’t dead. And there was another memory telling her neither were Harry or Ron.

Hermione kept her eyes closed as she tried to calm the turmoil of her mind. She was confused and she didn’t like it one bit. Slowly, she became aware of other things besides the light and realised they were voices. Voices she knew and loved.

“…same time as Hogwarts starts,” that was Neville, “first of September.”

“They lost so many Aurors,” Luna said quietly, “I guess they’re taking anybody.” Someone in the room sniggered.

“I know,” Neville continued, not sounding at all offended by Luna’s put down, “with my marks I’m amazed they accepted me.”

“You got rid of Bellatrix, Neville,” Ginny stated tersely, “you were a member of the DA and you fought along side Harry. That’s worth more than any stupid OWLS’s or NEWT’s.”

“I think you’ll make a fantastic Auror Neville,” Hermione whispered, finally opening her eyes to see her friends all looking down at her with surprise.

“Hermione!” Ron cried, making his way to her side with Luna right behind him.

“I’ll go and get Madam Pomfrey,” Neville volunteered while Harry wordlessly went to her other side, Ginny coming up behind him, snaking an arm around his waist then standing at his side.

“Welcome back,” the redhead smiled. Hermione smiled back as she began to manoeuvre herself to a sitting position.

“Thanks,” she managed, this time her voice a bit stronger, “how long have I been here?”

“Two days Miss Granger,” the school matron informed her as she made her way to Hermione’s bedside, Professor McGonagall and Neville in her wake, “and you are very lucky to be alive!”

“I thought…” Hermione started, then paused as she looked at Harry who looked back at her with unreadable eyes, “I thought Voldemort killed me.”

“He nearly did,” Madam Pomfrey confirmed while she continued her diagnostic tests, “you’ve had us all rather worried but that is all by the by,” she stepped back and looked down at Hermione in wonder, “because it seems there is nothing wrong with you. You are a healthy young woman.”

“Are you sure?” Harry asked, his concern evident.

“Yes, Mr Potter, I’m sure,” the matron placated, then turned back to her patient, “however, I would like to keep you here for a couple of days under observation.”

Hermione just nodded, trying to work out what it all meant. Voldemort had been standing over her, ready to take her life yet here she was whole and healthy. Worrying her bottom lip between her teeth, she thought through all the possible scenarios but for one of the rare times in her life, she came up short. She looked back at Harry.

“What happened?”

“That’s something we’d all like to know,” Ron answered before Harry could say anything, drawing Hermione’s attention to the redhead, “Harry wouldn’t tell us anything until you woke.”

Hermione turned back to Harry and once more an understanding passed between them. He had heard her secret and realised that it was something between the two of them, something that she may not be ready to share. She could see him thinking hard but something in his eyes told her that her secret will remain just that. With the slightest of smiles, Harry looked away from Hermione and over at Professor McGonagall.

“Are Remus and Tonks on their way?” he asked her.

“Yes,” the headmistress answered, “they will be here shortly.”

Harry just nodded and seemed once more lost in his thoughts. Hermione noticed Ginny worriedly looking up at Harry, trying to calm him with a gentle touch and with the realisation that nothing has changed, Hermione forced herself to look away from the young couple.

Moments later, Remus and Tonks entered the hospital ward and made a bee-line for Hermione’s bed, both smiling broadly.

“My, it’s good to see you up,” Remus beamed, “you had us all rather worried.”

“So I heard,” Hermione replied, returning Tonks’s hug, “I must admit, I’m rather confused about it all.”

“You’re not the only one,” Tonks grinned as she sat down on the edge of the bed, “one minute you’re being carried in here near dead and the next – here you are!”

“It’s all a bit of a mystery,” Remus continued, his eyes flicking from Hermione to Harry, “perhaps we can now work out what happened.”

Hermione felt slightly sick as all eyes turned to Harry, who stood a bit straighter and removed Ginny’s arm gently from around him. Ron sat down on an empty bed with Luna at his side, while everyone else just stood and waited.

“Tonks, this will be the official report to the Ministry?” Harry asked, “you are acting on their behalf?”

“Yep,” the young Auror confirmed, “Kingsley gave me authorisation this morning. I will document what you say and then deal with all the bureaucracy for you.”

“And what I say will not go past this room?” Harry continued, looking at the faces of those around Hermione’s bed – Neville, Professor McGonagall, Ron, Luna, Remus, Tonks and Ginny (Madam Pomfrey retiring to her office once knowing her patient was fine). They all acknowledged their acceptance with nods and various ‘yes’s’. Not quite satisfied, Harry cast a few privacy spells around them all before taking a deep breath, getting his thoughts together.

“Harry,” Ginny ventured worriedly, “are you o…”

“I’m fine,” he interrupted sharply, but everyone could see that he wasn’t fine at all. Hermione frowned as he dragged a weary hand over his face, rubbing his eyes under his glasses, then with a sigh he looked up at the group around him and began to speak.

“We knew where Voldemort was going to be, the draw of his final triumph taking place on the grounds of Hogwarts just too great for him to ignore,” Harry began, his eyes blank as he remembered, “so we left you guys to it and returned here. Lucius Malfoy, Wormtail and Crabbe senior were already here, waiting for Voldemort, and had no idea we’d arrived. We had surprise on our side with Crabbe going down without much of an effort.

“Wormtail and I fought and I got the pathetic bastard while Hermione and Ron were fighting Malfoy. Voldemort came on the scene when it was just Malfoy and us, his arrival distracting us and allowing Malfoy to hit Ron.”

“Bloody sectumsempra,” Ron muttered, “probably got the idea from Snape.”

“But I got Malfoy, so it was just me, Hermione and Voldemort,” Harry continued then paused, closing his eyes sadly with the memory.

“Crabbe and Malfoy are in custody,” Tonks informed them all, “Malfoy a bit worse for wear. Wormtail unfortunately met an untimely end…”

“He’s dead?” Ginny asked with a frown.

“Yeah,” Tonks answered solemnly, “it seems his fellow Death Eaters didn’t think too much of Mr Pettigrew and there was a bit of trouble in the cells.”

“Wow,” breathed Ron as he looked over to Harry who just looked numbly at the floor.

“What happened next, Harry?” Remus asked gently.

“Hermione went to Ron and I fought Voldemort,” was Harry’s blunt reply.

No-one said anything as the weight of Harry’s words hung in the air. Hermione found herself looking at her clenched hands in her lap as she fought against the tears that were threatening to fall. She couldn’t look at Harry, the memories still too raw and fresh in her mind. After a while, he continued to speak.

“Voldemort was playing with me, taunting me about how many people had died on my behalf, how I was alone and how I would die unloved and forgotten. That no-one would care…”

“Oh Harry,” Ginny cried softly and the first of Hermione’s tears fell.

“I knew Hermione was still there,” Harry carried on, “and I guessed she would help me soon enough, which she did when I was getting close to having nothing left.

“She secured his wand so I hit him with everything I knew, but nothing worked. He just seemed to, I don’t know, absorb it all and it was making him stronger. He hit me with a body bind from the shoulders down and then he got Hermione.”

Harry paused and Hermione chanced a look in his direction. What she saw broke her heart all over again. He was staring at the floor, his shoulders hunched and his face so very pale. There was nothing in his eyes, the green dull and lifeless. She quickly returned her gaze to her clenched hands.

“He had her by the throat with this…this power that I couldn’t see but I could feel it,” Harry said after a moment, “it was pulsing around him, this black mass. Nothing could’ve stopped him I’m sure of it.

“He…he crucioed Hermione and was talking to her, saying…things, making sure I could hear and see…everything.

“Then it all changed. His power just seemed to ebb away from him and I got stronger. I broke the body bind easily and when I was free, I saw that Fawkes had arrived and was with Ron. Then I saw Gryffindor’s sword – Fawkes had brought it, just like before, in the Chamber of Secrets. I really didn’t think, I just grabbed the sword and struck him. Just before he finished saying the killing curse.”

Harry stopped and the room was silent. Hermione was crying quietly and as she looked up to Harry, she saw he was too. It was the first time she had ever seen him shed a tear, in all the time he had known him. He looked so…vulnerable, so young.

“You did what you had to do,” Remus said softly, “you saved Hermione’s life. You saved all of our lives…”

“He bled,” Harry whispered, “when I stabbed him, he bled. There was still human in him.”

“Voldemort lost his humanity a long time ago, Harry,” Hermione told him gently, reaching out for his hand.

“You did what you had to do,” Ginny continued, taking his other hand, “you’re a hero, Harry.”

“I’m no hero,” Harry growled, removing his hands from both girls.

“What happened next?” Tonks spoke up, changing the subject. Harry took a deep breath, then after a moment, continued.

“Fawkes was healing Ron, but I knew that Hermione…that I was losing Hermione. So I put the location beacon up and within moments, Firenze and a few other centaurs had arrived. They took over, I grabbed Hermione and ran to here. That’s it.”

Again the room was silent. Hermione’s tears had dried up, but she couldn’t look at anyone without the risk of tearing up again.

“Is that everything, Harry?” Tonks asked after a moment.

“Yes,” was the sharp reply and without really knowing why, Hermione felt a blush touch her face.

“What could’ve stopped Voldemort’s power?” Remus thought out loud, “I mean, how could Harry break the body bind?”

“Something even more powerful, perhaps,” Professor McGonagall replied, “Fawkes?”

“No,” Remus came back, “the powers of a phoenix are great but limited to specific things…”

“Do you have any ideas, Harry?” Tonks pressed and Hermione looked up at the young Auror to see that she knew Harry was hiding something.

“Not at the moment,” Harry answered, “I haven’t had much time to think about it…”

Hermione frowned. She needed to talk to Harry and she needed to talk to him alone. She had a theory on why things happened like they did, but it sounded so preposterous, so unreal in her head that she couldn’t believe her thoughts to be real.

She needed to talk to Harry.

She leaned back heavily into her pillows and wearily closed her eyes. Everything was supposed to be simpler once Voldemort was gone but now it just seems so much more complex.

“We should go,” Luna said from her spot at Ron’s side, “Hermione needs her rest.”

Hermione opened her eyes to a flurry of activity as everyone agreed with Luna and prepared to leave. She was getting various good-bye hugs and kisses with Ron, Luna, Neville and Professor McGonagall gone before she knew it. Remus and Ginny were making their way towards the door but both Tonks and Harry seemed reluctant to leave.

“Harry?” Ginny questioned, stopping when she noticed he wasn’t with her. Harry looked down at Hermione who returned his look with the slightest of nods.

“I…I think Hermione and I need to…um, talk.”

“Is everything alright?” Tonks asked quickly, “Hermione?”

“Everything is fine, Tonks,” Hermione replied strongly, ignoring the millions of butterflies that had started swirling around in her belly, “Harry and I just need to talk, that’s all.”

“Are you…”

“Let it go Tonks,” Remus interrupted, “let’s let them catch-up. They’ve both been through a traumatic ordeal…”

“Then I should stay,” Ginny stated firmly, making her way back to Harry only finding herself stopped by Remus holding her arm.

“I think this is just between Harry and Hermione,” he explained gently only to be met by Weasley fire.

“I am Harry’s girlfriend,” she spat, ripping her arm from Remus’s grip, “I’m part of…”

“Ginny,” Harry interrupted tiredly, “I need to speak to Hermione alone for a moment. Please.”

Ginny glared at Harry from across the room, but Harry didn’t falter. So with a disgruntled ‘fine’, she turned on her heel and stormed out with a parting scowl in Hermione’s direction.

“I hope you two realise that whatever you’re hiding will need to be told eventually,” Tonks said as she made her way to the door.

“And that you trust us enough to tell us,” Remus added with a smile, “good to have you both back.”

The silence of the ward was nearly deafening as Hermione sat there, trying to work out what she wanted to say as it seemed Harry was in no hurry to start the conversation.

“Thank you,” she managed to get out after a few moments, glancing up at him.

“For what?” he asked, genuinely surprised.

“For saving me.”

Harry squirmed slightly and dug his hands awkwardly in his pockets, not looking at Hermione, who was watching him with interest.

“I think it was you who saved me,” he mumbled after a moment.

“You think Dumbledore was right?” she asked cryptically, but he knew exactly what she meant.

“I got the power from somewhere,” he admitted, glancing at her for the briefest of moments before once more looking at his shoes, “I felt this…surge the moment you said you…you…” but Harry couldn’t get the last words out, sending a sliver of fear into Hermione’s heart.

“Harry,” she cried urgently, forcing herself to her knees so she could get closer to him – to make him look at her, “Harry, you need to forget! You were never meant to know…”

“What?”

“Please,” she pleaded, “listen to me! I…I know you don’t feel the same about me, that…that you’ll never have the same…feelings for me. I know that! I’m fine with that! I’ve spent so long working through everything, I can deal with the fact that we’re only friends! I don’t want to lose you, Harry, or make things awkward between us – I can’t lose you!

“Please, let’s make an official statement and then get Tonks to erase the memory from your mind, make you forget so things can return to normal…”

“You want me to forget the first time any one has ever said that they love me?” Harry asked quietly, finally looking into her eyes, “I can’t do that, Hermione.”

“It will ruin everything…”

“Only if we let it,” he said firmly.

Hermione frantically tried to think of what to say to him, how she was going to fix this mess. She leant back into her pillow, thinking hard.

“Did you mean it?”

His question took her by surprise, making her look at him in shock.

“Did you mean it?” he repeated shyly, “do you really l…love me?” Hermione nodded, her eyes never leaving his, her breath halting when he asked, “how long?”

“A long time,” she whispered, “since maybe the end of our third year…”

“I’m…I’m sorry,” he stuttered, redness covering his face, “I never realised. Never thought…”

“Oh Harry,” she cried, “don’t apologise! Don’t ever apologise! You can’t help the way you feel, I know that! That’s why you were never meant to know…oh, this is all such a mess!”

“You were never going to tell me?”

“No,” Hermione admitted with a small smile, “unless you suddenly became attracted to me…”

“Oh…”

“All I want is for you to be happy,” she added and their eyes met once more, her smile remaining, “because if there is anyone in this world that deserves happiness, it’s you. Ginny makes you happy and that’s enough for me.”

“You deserve to be happy too, Hermione,” he whispered.

“I am,” was all she said.

Hermione leaned back and closed her eyes, suddenly exhausted from the brief time she had been awake. She also felt a heaviness in her heart from the conversation she had just had, unsure how her confession had changed the relationship she has with Harry.

Because it had changed. She could feel it.

And she knew him. She knew that now he would worry about doing things that might give her a wrong message, or that may hurt her and he would feel guilty about not returning her love.

He was never to know.

“We…we’re going to have to tell Remus and Tonks,” he said tentatively, and she opened her eyes to look at him, “I know that you want to keep all of this…private, but they need to know…”

“I understand,” Hermione replied wearily.

“And Ron too,” Harry continued, “I mean, things may be a bit…weird for a little bit…”

“I agree,” she sighed, “but no one else, Harry. Promise me that you won’t talk about this to anyone else.”

“Okay,” he said after a moment, then, “I better go. Let you rest.”

“Thanks.”

“I’ll…I’ll sort things with the others and see you later?”

“Sure. Fine.”

And then he was gone.

Hermione angrily swiped away the few tears that seeped out from her closed lids – she had vowed a while ago that she’d not cry over Harry Potter anymore and that vow hasn’t changed. Even though everything else had.

The next few days were slightly surreal as the secret she had hidden away from so many for so long was further exposed as they told Remus, Tonks and Ron. It was agreed that it was her love that gave Harry the strength to overcome such evil and that Albus Dumbledore had in fact been correct when he told Harry all those years ago that it would his ability to love that will win.

Tonks assured Hermione that her confession would not go any further, even officially, and Ron assured Hermione that he would tell no-one, not even Luna. But Hermione was sure she saw pity when they looked at her. And Harry wouldn’t even look at her...

She was finally given the all clear to go home so it was with a bit a relief that she started packing up her meagre belongings, ready to go home to her parents in Oxford. Everyone was out at a make shift Quidditch game and she hoped she could just slip out without much fuss. They all knew she was going – it wasn’t like she was disappearing off the face of the earth – but she felt guilty just the same.

She felt like she was running away.

Taking a deep breath, Hermione took one last look around the hospital ward, smiling sadly at the memories the walls contained, then went to leave, only to find the entrance blocked by Ron.

“You were going without saying goodbye?” he asked, slightly annoyed.

“I thought you were playing Quidditch,” she replied, ignoring his question.

“Leg’s hurting too much,” he explained, but didn’t move from his spot blocking the door, “you should at least say goodbye.”

“It’s not like I’m leaving forever, Ron,” Hermione sniped, “I’m only going home!”

“He’s going to be right pissed off if you if you go without saying anything.”

“Harry will be fine,” she continued, trying to get past Ron, “he doesn’t need me…”

“Are you two ever going to get past this?”

Hermione stopped in her tracks, took a deep breath and then looked up into the concerned face of her friend.

“I hope so,” she sighed.

“She’s not right for him, you know,” Ron said suddenly.

“Who?” Hermione asked, confused, “Ginny?”

“Yeah,” he continued, “I thought she was, once, but she isn’t. Don’t give up on him.”

“Thanks Ron,” she smiled before giving him a hug, her smile growing when, after a few moments, he returned it, “say goodbye to everyone for me will you?”

“Sure,” Ron grinned, “let me get scowled at!”

“He’ll be fine.”

“Take care Hermione.”

“You too,” and with a smile and a parting wave, Hermione made her way out of Hogwarts.

A/N – thank you all for your reviews and comments. I like this chapter so I hope you do to…

Chapter 2

The suburban street was full of normal weekend activities – lawns being mowed, gardens being gardened, cars being washed – making a strange sense of longing come over Harry as he walked past all the activity. He hadn’t done such things now for over a year and he had thought at the time, during his long summers at the Dursley’s, that he’d never miss the hard work. Seeing others doing the chores now though made him want to get back into it.

Weird.

Nervously, he looked down at the bit of parchment in his hand and once again noted the number of the street written on it. He should know the address off by heart now, the amount of times he had glanced at it, but he didn’t, his nerves making him forget almost everything.

He was closer now, his heart rate increasing with every step that he took. He didn’t really understand why he was so scared, it was only Hermione’s place after all, but he was. He hadn’t seen her for over two weeks and she had left without talking to him at all. It was all rather strange.

Taking a deep breath, he paused as he looked up at the house he had been searching for. It was an unremarkable detached bungalow, with a small front garden behind a low stone wall. He could see Mr Granger in the driveway, trying to unload a large item from the back of a trailer. Tucking the slip of parchment in his pocket, Harry took another deep breath and made his way up the driveway.

“Need some help there, Mr Granger?” he asked when he was close enough.

“Harry!” the older man exclaimed, pushing his load back onto the trailer and welcoming Harry with a warm shake of the hand, “this is a pleasant surprise. What brings you to this neck of the woods?”

“I…I haven’t seen Hermione for a while,” Harry bumbled, a blush tainting his cheeks, “just thought I come and say hi.”

“Well, I’m sure she’ll be pickled to see you,” Mr Granger enthused before turning back to the trailer with a frown, “I’m supposed to be putting this shed together but I think I’ve bitten off more than I can chew.”

“I can give you a hand, if you like,” Harry offered, already reaching for one of the pieces of the shed lying in the back of the trailer.

“Oh, no,” Mr Granger exclaimed, halting Harry by a touch on his arm, “I can’t ask you to do that! Besides, the girls have already offered to help (though I don’t think they’ve realised what they’ve got themselves into). You’re here to see Hermione!”

“I don’t mind,” Harry insisted, now lifting a piece off the trailer, “honestly.”

Mr Granger hesitated for a moment longer before breaking out into a grin and also grabbing one of the smaller pieces from the pile.

“That would be brilliant, Harry,” he beamed, “thank you. And I’m sure both my wife and my daughter will also be thanking you before this day is through.”

Harry just smiled and followed Mr Granger around the side of the house and into the back yard. Both Mrs Granger and Hermione were there, both weeding different flower beds that followed the fence line around the side of the lawn. The two were chatting and didn’t notice their arrival until Mr Granger spoke.

“Look who I found wandering off the street,” he said jovially, making both Hermione and her mother look up expectedly. Harry’s nerves returned ten fold when Hermione’s eyes widened in surprise when she saw him and felt a whole other emotion when she stood and he saw she was wearing thigh length shorts and a t-shirt, definitely the least amount of clothes he had ever seen her in.

“Harry!” she cried, making her way to him with a bunch of weeds in one gloved hand and a trowel in the other, “what are you doing here? Are you alright? Is everyone okay? Ron? Nothing’s gone wrong, has it?”

“No, nothing’s wrong,” he quickly assured, resting his piece of shed on his legs, “everyone is fine. I just, well, I guess I just wanted to say hi…”

“Say hi?” she repeated, now frowning suspiciously.

“Er, yeah,” he replied nervously, “and see how you’re doing…”

“Right,” she said, her face hard.

“Hermione, dear,” Mrs Granger cut in, taking the weeds and trowel from her glaring daughter and smiling encouragingly at Harry, “why don’t you and Harry catch up for a bit while your dad and I make some lunch.. Harry, would you like a sandwich or two?”

Harry numbly nodded his acceptance, aware that he was still holding on to his piece of shed and that Hermione was still scowling at him. As soon as her parents had left the garden, Hermione turned on her heel and made her way to a small garden bench that sat underneath a large oak tree on the garden’s edge, taking off her gloves as she did so. Harry put down his handful and followed a few steps behind.

“So, why are you really here?” she asked as she sat, tucking her legs under her and dropping her gloves to the ground.

“Well, I haven’t seen you for a while,” Harry started, his hands deep in his pockets as he hovered uncomfortably a few feet away from where she was sitting, “and I wanted to…”

“Say hi and see how I’m doing,” she repeated, “I heard. The thing is Harry, you’ve never come to see me over summer or even ask how I am or what I’m doing. In fact, our contact over summer is usually very limited and involves a Weasley or two. So, what is the real reason you’re here?”

“You left without saying goodbye,” he blurted out, blushing, “I don’t hear from you for weeks and I was…I was just worried, that’s all!”

Hermione looked at him for a moment without speaking and he saw her anger slowly disappear.

“You’re right,” she said, sighing deeply, “I’m sorry.” Harry just nodded in reply, still not quite sure what to do until she said, “oh, for goodness sake Harry, sit down! It’s not like I’m going to attack you or anything!”

With some reluctance, Harry did as he was asked, perching himself on the edge of the bench as far away from Hermione as he could. When she didn’t say anything more, he took a deep breath and began to speak.

“So, have…have you had a good summer so far?” he asked cautiously.

“Yes, I have,” she replied and he could hear a smile in her voice, so he looked at her and saw she was indeed smiling, “it’s been great just being able to relax, catch up with mum and dad. You know, do normal things.”

“Yeah, I know what you mean,” Harry agreed, “doing normal things, that is.”

“Are you having fun at the Weasley’s then?”

“I guess so,” he replied with a new wave of unease, “Mrs Weasley’s been fussing me heaps, Ron spends an awful amount of time either at the Ministry with his dad or with Luna so I hardly see him.” He stopped abruptly as thoughts of Ginny entered his mind and the fact that she had been taking up a lot of his spare time. He realised he could no longer look at Hermione and suddenly found the spot of ground in front of his feet extremely interesting.

“Which would give you plenty of time to strengthen your relationship with Ginny,” Hermione filled in for him, chuckling slightly, “and I bet that’s been lots of fun!”

Harry didn’t know what to say. It had been happening to him a lot lately, whenever he had both Hermione and Ginny on his mind. Knowing that Hermione has feelings for him seemed to have changed something within his brain, making him unsure of himself and where he stood whenever he thought about her.

Ginny still didn’t know the truth and he wanted to keep it that way. She seemed to think that his strange moods were just because of the war and was trying hard to give him the support he needed, patiently waiting for their relationship to progress past holding hands and kissing every now and then.

But Harry wasn’t too sure it would. Not yet anyway; not until he had sorted out what he felt for Hermione.

He found himself thinking of her more often than he should, wondering if she was okay, hoping that he wouldn’t lose her because of his lack of response to her in the hospital ward. The fact she had left without saying goodbye and the fact that he hadn’t heard anything from her since then had scared him.

Which is why he was here. And why he really didn’t want to talk about Ginny.

“Harry?”

He was confused. He hadn’t lied when he told Hermione that he had never thought of her in any way other than a friend. But he also knew she was way more important to him than ‘just’ a friend. And he was attracted to Ginny. It was Ginny who made him feel…well, it was Ginny who he wanted to kiss and hold and…

“Harry!”

Slightly startled, he looked at Hermione only to see her watching him curiously. Remembering what he had just been thinking about, Harry felt his cheeks redden again and he guiltily glanced away, missing the frown that crossed Hermione’s face. When he felt her take his hands in hers, his heart rate increased and reluctantly he turned back to her as she peered into his face, making him look at her.

“This has got to stop, Harry,” she started softly.

“What?”

“You feeling guilty every time you talk about Ginny to me,” she continued, smiling slightly, “please, please listen to me and listen really carefully, because I want you to understand what I’m going to tell you so all this nonsense can stop.”

Hermione paused as she got her thoughts together, giving Harry the opportunity to look closely at her face – her mass of hair had been tied back haphazardly in a bushy ponytail with small ringlets escaping here and there. A bridge of freckles sprinkled over her nose where the sun had penetrated the sunscreen she undoubtedly would use, with her face free of any make-up (which Ginny always seemed to wear, even when all they were doing was hanging around).

She was chewing her bottom lip in thought, releasing it as she looked back at him, her brown eyes nearly as familiar to him as his own. Smiling at him, she squeezed his hands for a brief moment then began to speak.

“I’ve had a long time to get used to the idea that my feelings for you aren’t returned,” she said, stopping him speaking by shaking her head slightly, “no, let me say this. Let me get this out so things can go back to how they were.

“I know you don’t love me like I love you, I know that. In the beginning it hurt because I wondered what was wrong with me, why you went for Cho and then Ginny and not me when I was your best friend. But in these last few years I realised that there wasn’t anything wrong with me at all. It just isn’t meant to be and that your friendship was a wonderful gift and something I could and should treasure.

“Last year I began to make contingency plans on what I would do once the war was over. One thing I vowed I would never do is feel sorry for myself and wish away my life on what might have been, to sit and watch you fall in love with someone else wanting it desperately to be me. I’m not going to do that. I’m worth more than that.

“There’s more in my life than just you, Harry. I couldn’t have said that these last seven years when you were my life, where everything in it revolved around you and keeping you alive.

“But now? Now it’s about me. I want a career. I want to spend time with my family and friends. I want to find a hobby, maybe write a book. I want a life of my own. I want to do things just for me, do you understand?” She paused slightly allowing him to nod his acknowledgement, telling her that he did understand the need for some personal space. She continued.

“You and Ron are my best friends and that will never, ever change. There is a bond between the three of us that is so strong I don’t think anything will break it. But we’re growing up, doing our own things, going along our own paths, which means there will be big changes and challenges ahead.

“And this is the part I want you to listen to Harry, listen and understand. I’m happy with my life. I’m happy with who I am and what I’m doing. I’m looking forward to what lies ahead for me and the challenges that I’m going to face. And I’m happy to do that on my own.”

“You aren’t alone, Hermione,” Harry put in quietly, aware that he should say more but finding that he couldn’t.

“Oh, Harry,” she smiled, “I know I’m not alone. I have so many people around me to help if I need it. But because both you and Ron have found someone special, everyone seems to feel that I’m sad and lonely when I’m anything but!

“And you need to stop feeling guilty for being happy with Ginny.”

“It’s just that,” Harry began, thinking hard on how he could tell her why he was feeling what he was feeling especially when he didn’t really understand it himself, “it’s just that, I don’t know, you’re my best friend and I…I don’t want to hurt you…”

“You’re not hurting me, Harry,” she assured him, “I’m stronger than you think. You have to believe me. I. Am. Happy.”

They looked at each other then, and Harry saw she was telling the truth. Just then, Mrs Granger came over to them with a tray of sandwiches and a couple of drinks. Hermione took the food from her mother with a word of thanks then placed it between herself and Harry on the bench, taking a sandwich as she went and began eating. After a slight hesitation, Harry did the same.

“So,” he said between mouthfuls, “have you decided what career you’re going to have?”

“No,” Hermione replied promptly and continued eating.

“Really?” Harry blurted, surprised, “I thought you’d have it all worked out.”

“I did, once upon a time,” she smiled, “I’ve had a few offers and stuff, but…”

“So, what’re going to do?”

“Go back to Hogwarts.”

“What?” Harry cried, “why?”

“Because I want to finish my education,” she told him, “I want to sit my NEWT’s, I want to be head girl and I want a year to get over what I’ve been through and sort out what I want to do with my life.”

“But we have honorary passes for our NEWT’s,” he frowned, confused, “and I thought you just told me you had a career…”

“No, I said I want a career,” Hermione corrected, finishing her drink, “and I’ll use my year at Hogwarts to sort out what that career will be. I told Professor McGonagall while I was in hospital and she said she would help me in any way she could. So, I go back on the first.”

“Wow,” Harry exclaimed, paused, then looked back at her, “do you…do you think about the last battle much? What Voldemort did?”

“More than I like,” she answered, her tone suddenly solemn and her smile leaving her face, “sleeping isn’t going that well for me at the moment. How ‘bout you?”

“The dreams aren’t as bad as before,” Harry admitted softly, “Remus is helping me sort all that stuff out. You…you should talk to someone about it…”

“I will,” she assured before smiling once more, “hey, you changed the subject! What are you going to do next, Mr Potter? Be a man of leisure, sunning yourself in some exotic local? Maybe a super-model perhaps?”

“Yeah right,” he laughed along with her, “the camera just loves me!”

“So, what are you going to do Harry?”

“To be honest, I don’t know,” he sighed, “Ginny wants me to be an Auror. Neville has joined, so has Seamus and she thinks I should too.”

“I thought you didn’t want to be an Auror,” Hermione stated, “that you had had enough of fighting the bad guys.”

“I know,” he admitted, “but everyone just expects that’s what I’ll do. They’ve practically got my name down at the Academy already. And I guess I’m good at it…”

“I think you’d be a fantastic Auror,” she told him seriously, making him look at her in surprise, “but I don’t think you’d be a particularly happy Auror.”

“Yeah, I guess,” he sighed, “but I don’t really know what else to do. And I feel like I’d let Ginny and everyone else down if I don’t join up.”

When Hermione didn’t reply and instead began chewing her bottom lip slightly, the look in her eye telling him that she wanted to say something but wasn’t sure if she should, Harry frowned.

“What is it Hermione?” he prompted.

“Well,” she began cautiously, “it’s just that, you’ve been doing things for everyone else your whole life, don’t you think it’s time that you did things for you? I’m sure Ginny would understand if you told her that you’d rather do something else.”

Harry wasn’t too sure about that – Ginny had been quite persuasive when it came to what he should do next. He had got the feeling she liked the idea that he would be this great dark wizard catcher, that his name would get to be even more famous than what it was now. Anything less, it seemed, wouldn’t be good enough.

It was then that Mr Granger remerged from the house, unintentionally interrupting them as both Harry and Hermione looked over as he made his way to the side entrance to the garden.

“Sorry,” he called out, “but if I don’t start on this shed, it will never get done. You two just ignore me.” With that he disappeared around the side of the house.

“Where can I go and change?” Harry asked, immediately standing.

“You don’t need to help…” Hermione began as she also stood, holding the empty plate and glasses.

“I want to,” Harry replied, then with a smile, “I kinda miss getting my hands dirty.”

“Okay then,” she laughed, heading towards the house, “but you have been warned!”

The trip to the house gave Harry the time to think over the conversation he just had. He felt lighter somewhat, knowing that Hermione hadn’t been stuck in her room, upset and hurting about their…situation. She was happy, she really was and she seemed to be fine with everything.

But that didn’t stop the confusion he still felt.

Hermione showed him the bathroom where he went and transfigured his clothes to shorts and a t-shirt. Before he had any more time to think, he was outside and carrying sections of the garden shed to the back yard. He and Mr Granger puzzled over the construction instructions then battled together to put the shed together, with Hermione and her mother helping occasionally.

Harry found himself having fun. Mr Granger had a dry sense of humour that had Harry chuckling more than once – even when part of the shed fell down. As the afternoon progressed, he found himself relaxing more and more. Though he loved the Weasley’s and living at the Burrow was fantastic, he was constantly reminded of his life and the horrors he had lived through. With the Grangers he was normal and he found himself enjoying the feeling immensely.

It was very late afternoon when he and the Granger family stood back and marvelled at the wonder of a complete and sturdy garden shed.

“Not bad,” Mrs Granger acknowledged.

“Not bad?” her husband exclaimed, “I think it’s bloody brilliant! A marvel of engineering magnificence! A proud symbol of suburban masculinity…”

“Don’t get too carried away, dear,” Mrs Granger smiled as both Harry and Hermione sniggered, “Harry, you have to stay for dinner, let us repay you for all your help and hard work today. I’m sure you didn’t envisage constructing a symbol of suburban masculinity when you made your way over to visit Hermione.”

“Oh, that’s okay,” Harry replied somewhat bashfully, “I’ve had fun…”

“…and he can’t really stay for dinner,” Hermione interrupted, “he’s probably expected at the Weasley’s. I mean, he has been gone all day.”

Harry looked at Hermione to see she had turned a brilliant shade of red that would make Ron proud.

“Actually,” he said after a moment’s pause, turning back to Mr and Mrs Granger, “thanks, dinner would be brilliant. I’m sure Mrs Weasley won’t mind.”

“Excellent!” Mr Granger grinned, “we’re hooked up to the fireplace telephone service thing…”

“The floo, daddy,” Hermione corrected quietly.

“Right, the floo,” he continued, leading Harry into the house, “so you can let the Weasley’s know that way if you like.”

Harry nodded and in moments found himself kneeling in front of the Granger’s fireplace, his head among the green flames and asking to speak to Ron – cringing when Mrs Wealsey yelled out to Ron that Harry wanted to talk to him; he had wanted to keep the conversation a bit more discrete. Ron alone knew where Harry was and when told that Harry was staying for dinner, a grin of understanding crossed his face before quickly disappearing as Ginny wanted to see Harry and know where he was.

The floo link was broken quite suddenly.

Standing up, Harry looked around the living room. He had already washed his hands and face prior to making the call (with the others now getting ready) allowing him to be alone as he waited. He changed his clothes back to what they were when he arrived, then looked around the room. Not surprisingly, it was full of bookshelves and books. There was no television but a stereo system along with a variety of records and tapes.

On the walls were a few artistic looking black and white photographs while the mantle was covered in family photos. He started looking at them to see a Hermione he very rarely saw at Hogwarts. There was the younger Hermione, of course – even a baby Hermione – but there was also a smiling, laughing Hermione. He picked up the photo taken of the Granger family outside the glass pyramid at the Louvre, taken probably during the last family holiday before she started spending all of her time with him and Ron. She looked so happy.

“We’ve decided that we can’t be bothered cooking,” Mrs Granger announced as she entered the lounge, startling Harry slightly as he put down the picture, “so we’re going to have take-aways. What do you feel like, Harry?”

“Oh, I don’t mind,” Harry said quickly, “I’ll have what ever you’re having…”

“Don’t be silly,” Mr Granger admonished with a smile as he followed his wife into the room, “you’re the guest! The man of the hour! It’s your choice – we have a really nice Indian, or Chinese…”

“…kebabs, fish and chips…” Mrs Granger listed, going through a handful of menus, “an Italian place that does fantastic pizza’s…”

“Pizza?” Harry blurted before he even thought about it.

“Ah,” Mr Granger smiled, “I think we have a winner!”

“Pizza it is,” his wife continued, sitting down and opening the Italian restaurant pamphlet, “now, which toppings?”

“I don’t mind…” Harry started.

“You must have a favourite,” Mr Granger said as he sat down in an armchair, “everyone has a favourite topping! Mine’s Hawaiian.”

“I didn’t really get to choose,” Harry admitted, still hovering by the mantle, “I just ate whatever my cousin left…”

“Your uncle and aunt didn’t let you choose?” Mrs Granger interrupted, looking up from the menu.

“Well, no,” Harry admitted with a shrug, “they thought whatever my cousin liked was good enough…”

“What about what you liked?” Mrs Granger pressed.

“Oh, I didn’t matter,” Harry dismissed casually, smiling slightly when he saw Hermione enter the room freshly showered and changed into jeans and a t-shirt.

“Didn’t matter?” Mrs Granger repeated, a familiar looking frown crossing her face, making her look a lot like her daughter when faced with an injustice against some poor wizarding creature, “what do you mean, didn’t matter? Surely your aunt and uncle cared about what you thought?”

“No, not really,” Harry replied as he finally left his spot by the mantle and went to sit next to Hermione on the couch.

“So, what’s for dinner?” Hermione asked, curling her legs under her, pausing as she finally noticed her mother’s frown, “what’s wrong?”

“I don’t think your mother approves of Harry’s uncle and aunt’s parenting skills,” Mr Granger answered in a way that told Harry he had been in the situation before, “oh, and we’re having pizza.”

“Excellent,” Hermione replied, seemingly ignoring the ‘parenting’ comment and instead focusing on the food as she then asked, “what toppings are we going to have?”

“Now, there’s the conundrum,” Mr Granger smiled, leaning back in his chair, “Harry doesn’t have a favourite so I’m thinking…”

“Ooh, every flavour pizza!” Hermione interrupted with an excited squeal, her face lighting up like a four year old, “like when I was little?”

“Yes, pumpkin pie,” Mr Granger confirmed affectionately, “every flavour pizza, like when you were little. What do you think, Harry? Shelly?”

“Sounds great,” Mrs Granger said, her frown softening, “that way Harry can find out his favourite flavour for next time.”

“Er…right,” Harry stammered, his mind stuck on the idea that there may be a next time.

“My thoughts exactly,” her husband smiled as he stood, “I’ll go and order.”

With that, Mr Granger left the room to go and make the call to the Italian restaurant while Mrs Granger got herself more comfortable as she looked kindly over at Harry. Wanting to get any conversation well away from him, he turned to Hermione with a grin.

“I just thought,” he said, taking caution to the wind, “I don’t really know much about your life before Hogwarts. You never really talked about it much, other than your holidays…”

“That’s because there isn’t much to say,” she humphed, “before Hogwarts, I didn’t have any friends and I spent my time at home alone, reading.”

“Can’t have been that bad…”

“Well, it wasn’t as bad as yours,” Hermione admitted with a shrug, “but it was pretty awful.”

“Oh, come on now, sweetie,” Mrs Granger interjected, “you make it sound like you were terribly mistreated. Just because others didn’t understand your uniqueness…”

“You call it uniqueness,” Hermione muttered, “everyone else thought I was just ugly and strange!”

“You have never been ugly,” Mr Granger declared as he strolled back into the living room and sat down in his chair, “though I must admit, when you came back home after your fourth year and your teeth had been shortened, I felt rather guilty. You were quite the beautiful young lady and getting your teeth fixed sooner may have spared you some grief.”

“A young woman shouldn’t rely on good looks to get by,” Mrs Granger declared, and Harry was sure he heard a quiet sigh from Hermione next to him, “it is brains and personality that makes one beautiful. Hermione was doing quite well before hand…”

“Mother, I had no friends, people thought I was a nightmare and I was miserable…”

“But you made friends,” Mrs Granger argued, “and you became this strong, independent young woman who now has the world at your feet all because you had to make it that way. Things weren’t just given to you, you’ve had to work hard to get there and now it is all paying dividends.”

“Besides,” Mr Granger added with a smile, “we thought you were beautiful and doesn’t that count for anything?”

“Of course it does, daddy,” Hermione smiled back, “but you and mum are very biased. It would be nice to hear it from someone outside the family.”

“I told you you were pretty once,” Harry stated, thinking about it.

“No Harry, you told me you didn’t think I was ugly,” Hermione chuckled, “there’s a difference.”

“Ah, Harry,” Mr Granger said wistfully, “good to see you are as suave as I was at your age. Now, I’m sure you would like to see why Hermione’s mother and I always thought our daughter was the most beautiful little girl in the world…”

“Daddy,” Hermione protested, blushing terribly and purposefully ignoring Harry, who was looking at her with interest.

“…and the fact that she was born at all is a miracle, so we have several photo albums covering her life to prove it,” Mr Granger concluded proudly.

“Hermione was a miracle?” Harry asked, still looking at Hermione who, if possible, blushed even harder.

“Oh yes,” Mrs Granger answered as she looked fondly at her embarrassed daughter, “Phil and I started a bit late…”

“…we wanted to finish university and get settled into a practice before we started a family,” Mr Granger added.

“…so by the time we even thought about it, I was in my thirties…”

“…and then when it took ages for anything to happen…”

“…we went to the doctors to see if there was a problem…”

“…and there was. We were told that the chances of us conceiving were extremely slim so we should perhaps look at alternatives like adoption…”

“…but we got pregnant not long after though unfortunately I miscarried…”

“…so we made the decision to stop trying and just get on with our lives…”

“…which was when Hermione was conceived and after surprising us all, carried on to nearly full term…”

“Nearly full term?” Harry interrupted, frowning.

“Hermione was born four weeks too early,” Mrs Granger explained, “which is not much now, but then the technology was at its infancy, excuse the pun…”

“…but our little girl is a fighter,” Mr Granger finished, standing and going to one of the bookshelves to retrieve three large albums, “which is why we have hundreds and hundreds of photos of her!”

“Harry doesn’t want to see them…” Hermione tried to object, somewhat timidly.

“Yes I do,” Harry countered, taking the first album from Mr Granger with a grin, immediately opening it and looking at the baby photos inside.

He began flicking through the pages, his eyes scanning over the various shots of Hermione as a baby. Initially, she was a tiny, little thing connected to an incubator by wires and tubes. As the photos progressed, she began to look more like a baby though the only thing he could recognise was her eyes – large and the darkest brown looking at him from the pages. Her hair began to show its wild abandon when she was a toddler with her looking more and more like the Hermione he knew.

Her parents were explaining the context of the photos as he progressed, though he couldn’t help pausing and laughing when he came across a shot of a naked little girl at a beach somewhere.

“Oh no,” groaned Hermione, hiding her face in her hands.

“I think Ron is going to be extremely jealous when I tell him I’ve seen you naked,” Harry laughed.

“Don’t you dare!” she cried, to the amusement of everyone else. Harry just chuckled and continued looking through the album.

He finished the first one and began on the second album, where she was slightly older. He paused when a photo of a miniature Hermione looked up at him from the depths of a large book. She must’ve been no older than two and although he couldn’t see the title, he could tell the book wasn’t the average type for a child her age.

“Hermione started to read at eighteen months and began reading full sentences and things before she was two,” Mr Granger told him proudly.

“I can believe it,” Harry responded with a smile, glancing at a quiet Hermione before carrying on with the album.

“I bet your family have just as many photos of you,” Mrs Granger said after a moment, “and are just as proud. Especially now, after everything you’ve done.”

“My family would’ve been prouder if I had been killed with my parents,” Harry replied nonchalantly, smiling at the little girl grinning at him from the many images before him.

“Oh, I don’t believe that, Harry,” Mrs Granger continued and Harry could hear the frown in her voice, “I’m sure they loved you…”

“My uncle and aunt hated me,” Harry said with little thought before breaking out in hysterical laughter when a grumpy girl dressed in a tutu and tights, arms crossed angrily across her chest, glared at him from the pages, “you did ballet classes?” he asked, turning to an indignant Hermione.

“Yes I did,” she stated grumpily, “and as you can tell, I didn’t enjoy it that much. I don’t, however, see why it is so funny!”

“I just can’t imagine you jumping around in a tutu and leotards, that’s all,” Harry chuckled, moving on to the next page.

“She only lasted a couple of lessons,” Mr Granger explained, also grinning, “we could see straight away that dance wasn’t her thing,” and before he could say anything else, the doorbell rang, “right, here’s dinner,” he announced then jumped up to secure the food.

“Why do you think your uncle and aunt hated you?” Mrs Granger asked, carrying on as if his outburst of laughter never happened.

“Mum, please, give it a rest,” Hermione said quietly but firmly, glaring at her mother. But Harry wanted to get this out of the way.

“Because they told me on many occasions that they wished I never existed and that they thought I was a waste of space,” was his reply, finally looking up from the now finished photo album full of happy family pictures and looked into the concerned eyes of Hermione’s mother, “I didn’t have a bedroom until I was eleven, my first presents were the ones I got for Christmas at Hogwarts (unless you count the cake Hagrid gave me) and my uncle and aunt treated me like I was a servant until I was finally old enough to tell them to leave me alone.”

“You didn’t have a bedroom?” Mrs Granger questioned though now her tone was quiet and somewhat sad, “did you share with your cousin?”

“No, I slept in the cupboard under the stairs until I was eleven,” he stated firmly, shrugging slightly when both Hermione and her mother gasped.

“But…but that’s shocking!” Mrs Granger exclaimed, only slightly aware that her husband had returned with the food, “all of what you said is shocking! Didn’t anyone notice what they were doing to you? Didn’t anyone care?”

“No, not really,” Harry answered, still looking at Mrs Granger.

“His uncle and aunt are horrible people, mum,” Hermione added quietly.

“You knew about this?” her mother cried, close to tears.

“I knew that they treated Harry terribly,” Hermione answered, “but it wasn’t until I lived there for those few weeks last year I realised just how horrid they actually were. I saw the locks on the door on the cupboard,” she continued, but this time directed herself to Harry, “did they used to lock you in there as well?”

“Yeah, but I was smaller then,” he offered.

“That really doesn’t matter, Harry,” Mr Granger spoke up, pausing from opening the pizza boxes to look at him, “you shouldn’t be locked up at all.”

“How long would they keep you in there?” was Mrs Granger’s next question and Harry had had enough.

“It depended on what I had done,” Harry said briskly, “look, the Dursely’s treated me like dirt but that’s all I knew until I went to Hogwarts. All the time I was with them I knew there had to be something better and there was. What they did to me – the ignoring, the lack of food, the being locked up – whatever, has made me into the person I am now. I’m stronger for it and I guess I’ve come out the better…”

“Oh Harry, you have definitely come out the better person…” Hermione interrupted, intertwining her hand in his in support.

“They are my past,” Harry sighed, looking down at his and Hermione’s hands, “I don’t care about them just like they don’t care about me. I’ve had worst done to me than the Dursely’s and I try not to think about that either. I just want to think about the future. I just want to move forward.”

No one said anything for a moment which suited Harry fine. He continued to look at his hand wrapped with Hermione’s, marvelling at how that simple touch made him feel so much better. He hadn’t minded when Mrs Granger had been so offended by his treatment at the Dursley’s, it had reminded him so much of Hermione. But now he wanted the conversation to return to fun things.

“Very worthy sentiments Harry,” Mr Granger finally said, “and I’m all for moving forward but also about living for today. Which is what we need to do quite quickly as I’m afraid the pizza is getting cold. Come on you lot – tuck in!”

The change in mood was immediate as the talk turned to food and trying, and explaining, all the different sorts of pizza toppings. Hermione let go of his hand so she could eat and he realised how much he missed its warmth. All though the rest of the evening he listened to stories of Hermione’s childhood and while his own stories came up now and then, they were no longer treated with as much vigour.

Harry could see how Hermione’s parents had shaped their daughter – Mrs Granger was passionate about those less fortunate and quite well versed in the political situations both locally and internationally. Mr Granger seemed studious and methodical and more than able to mediate between the sometimes fired up females in his life.

It was dark when Harry was ready to leave, Hermione escorting him to the back yard so he was able to apparate.

“Sorry about mum before,” she said after a few moments of comfortable silence.

“No worries,” Harry replied with a shrug, “I know my life’s been pretty much rubbish until now. For people who know better, it’s a bit of a shock.”

“It can only get better,” she smiled as they stopped in the shadow of the tree they had sat at earlier that day, “you deserve better Harry.”

“Yeah, I guess,” he said with a smile, “your parents are nice.”

“I’ve been pretty lucky,” she accepted, “thanks for today Harry. It’s been fun.”

“Yeah, it has,” he paused, suddenly feeling nervous, “so, I’ll see you at the ball in a couple of weeks?”

“Sure,” she smiled once more, “I better get back. Enjoy the rest of your summer Harry. I’ll see you later.”

She stepped away from him, giving him some space to Apparate. With a feeling of disappointment that she didn’t give him a good-bye peck, he raised his hand in a parting wave and then was gone.

A/N – thank you again for the lovely reviews. We’re over half way through (only this and two other chapters to go) and this chapter – eh, I don’t know. But I hope you enjoy it!

Chapter 3

Hermione stepped out of the carriage and looked up in awe at the beautifully lit castle – Hogwarts had never looked so wonderful.

With a smile, she glanced around her to see quite a few people enjoying the late summer evening before heading into the formality of the Victory Ball that was to take place within the school’s walls. Her smile grew into a grin when she saw the familiar figure of Neville hovering at the far end of the steps and without a second thought, she headed in his direction.

“Neville,” she called to him, returning his hug when he took her in his arms, “how are you? It feels like I haven’t seen you in ages!”

“I know,” he said back, “It’s been too long. Ginny said you’ve been on holiday?”

“Yes,” she smiled, taking his hand as they made their way up the stairs, “Cornwall, with my parents. So, how are you?”

“I’m okay,” he replied, “actually, a bit nervous. And excited. Can’t quite believe I’m going to be in Auror training in just over a week.”

“You’ll be fine,” Hermione assured, trying desperately to ignore all the stares they were getting as they entered the large foyer, “do you know if the others are here?”

“Yeah, I saw them all arrive about an hour ago.”

“Why didn’t you join them?”

“Well,” Neville started, then paused as he looked at her somewhat embarrassedly, “it’s just that…they’re all couples and I kinda feel out of place a bit. I…I thought I’d wait for you. See if you wanted to, er, be my date? I mean, just as friends, obviously, and just for tonight but since they’re all together…”

“I’d love to be your date Neville,” Hermione beamed, linking her arm in his as they carried on walking, “it would be an honour.”

“Great,” he grinned, “you look fantastic, by the way.”

“As do you,” she replied, nudging him slightly.

They entered the Great Hall in comfortable silence and Hermione found any nerves she had disappearing. She spotted Harry, Ginny, Ron and Luna pretty much straight away as they sat in a secured off section of the hall keeping the curious guests far from them.

“It’s funny seeing them together,” Neville muttered, his words causing Hermione to pause and look at him.

“Who?” she asked.

“Harry and Ginny.”

“Why?”

“Because…” he started before stopping abruptly as he tore his gaze from the couple in question and turned to Hermione, a blush covering his face.

“Neville? Come on,” she cajoled, now quite curious, “you can’t make a statement like that and not finish!”

“Well,” he continued somewhat uncertainly, “it’s just that, I always thought you’d end up with Harry.”

“Me?” Hermione replied, slightly taken aback, “really? Why?”

“You always seemed so close,” Neville explained, “I just thought it would be you two.”

Hermione looked at him for a moment, lost in thought. She knew that Neville wasn’t alone in the assumption that she and Harry were or should be an item. Viktor Krum thought it in their fourth year and Cho Chang thought it in their fifth. And of course, Ron thinks it right now. Still, it always amazed her that so many people could see how right they were for each other except for Harry himself.

Hermione gave a small chuckle.

“Well, Harry is with Ginny,” she told him, re-linking her arm with his and pulling him closer to her, smiling up at him, “and tonight, Mr Longbottom, I am with you.”

“Making me the luckiest person in this room,” he smiled back at her, “shall we, Miss Granger?”

“Most certainly.”

They were let in the secured area without any fuss and made their way to the table. After welcoming hellos, she sat between Luna and Neville, enjoying the conversation taking place around her. Ron was telling them of what he was doing in the Ministry, his anecdotes full of hilarious situations with the laughter continuing when Fred and George turned up at their table.

Before she knew it, dinner arrived and discussion became more restricted. She spent her time talking to Neville about how they were both coping with things after the war, aware that she hadn’t really spoken to anyone since she left the hospital over a month ago.

Soon the crowd hushed as the Minister of Magic and his officials made their way to the small stage at the head of the Great Hall. All attention was focused on the group as the Minister began his speech thanking those who fought and ultimately won against Voldemort and his followers.

They then began to hand out the awards – various levels of the Order of Merlin to Aurors, members of the Order of the Phoenix and then the group of six friends themselves.

Neville, Luna and Ginny made their way to the stage to collect Order of Merlin, Second Class to enthusiastic applause – but that was nothing to when Harry, Ron and herself stood on the stage moments later.

The standing ovation lasted an uncomfortably long time and when the three of them faced the crowd with their Order of Merlin, First Class medals around their necks, the applause was nearly deafening. Soon a chant of ‘speech’ began which quickly grew into a roar. Smiling and flushed, Hermione turned to Ron and Harry.

“I think they want a speech,” she said unnecessarily.

“Well, they’re not getting one from me,” Ron replied immediately.

“Nor me,” Harry stated, glancing nervously at the crowd over Hermione’s shoulder.

“You haven’t prepared a speech?” she spluttered, her smile instantly disappearing, “Harry, they told you about this while we were still at the hospital! That you would need to say something!”

“I…I forgot,” he mumbled, looking rather sheepish, not able to look Hermione in the eye.

“Forgot!” she seethed, “you forgot! How could you forget?”

“Well…er,” Harry began only to be interrupted by one of the Minister’s aids asking if Harry was ready to give his speech who retreated rather quickly when Hermione informed him in a very terse manner that they needed a moment.

“So, what do you plan to do now?” she spat at him, only vaguely aware that the chants of the audience has decreased to a concerned hum.

“You could always do it,” Ron suggested casually, “you’re good at talking.” She glared at him.

“Ron’s right,” Harry quickly agreed, and she turned her glare to him, “I mean, you’d be perfect to pull this off,” she humphed at him angrily, “please, Hermione?” he pleaded.

“No,” she stated firmly.

“Hermione, come on,” he begged, taking her hands in his as he did so, “you are so much better with words than I am. It doesn’t have to be much…”

“Then why can’t you do it?”

“Because…because I just can’t.”

She glared at him for a moment more, already feeling her resolve weaken when she saw how deflated he looked.

“You’re really putting me on the spot, Harry.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

She knew she shouldn’t, she knew she should make him be the one to make an idiot of himself in front of all these people – after all, it was him who was supposed to write the speech. But she also knew that part of her that needed to protect Harry from all harm was stronger than the knowledge that he should be taught a lesson.

“Alright!” she growled, “honestly, I leave you alone for a few weeks and you can’t do just one little assignment!”

“Thanks Hermione,” Harry gushed, “I owe you…”

“You do more than owe me, Harry Potter,” was her parting comment before closing her eyes, taking a deep breath and began to try and work out what she was going to say. With a final exhalation, she turned from Harry and Ron and made her way towards the podium.

She tried to ignore the faces of all of the people looking up at her in anticipation. The hum that had been happening while she was debating with the boys was now a surprised murmur with many wondering what was going on. With another deep breath and a quick spell to make her voice louder, she began to speak.

“For those who know me, you would be surprised to know that I am completely unprepared for this speech,” a trickle of laughter made its way around the hall, “however, those who know Harry would not be surprised at all to hear that it is because he, in fact, forgot to write this speech that I am now doing it in his place,” a louder rumble of laughter sounded in the hall and Hermione relaxed slightly.

“We are here tonight to celebrate the demise of one of our greatest enemies. For some in this hall, it has been a battle that has raged most of their lives and a battle that has seen family members, friends and colleagues succumb to the evil that has surrounded the wizarding world for such a long time.

“But the shadow of Lord Voldemort has hung over Harry the most. From before he was born, Harry’s life had been determined by the horror that was Lord Voldemort. A prophecy that made him the ‘Chosen One’ and then the death of his parents had scared him in more ways than one.

“Yet he arrived at Hogwarts with little knowledge of what lay ahead for him but he found out in the most brutal way possible with his first encounter with his foe. In the following years, his life has been in danger so often that we have all lost count though it seems now, in hindsight, it was all making him ready for his final challenge – a challenge which he faced and triumphed just over a month ago.

“Both Ron and myself found ourselves intertwined with Harry’s destiny and neither of us minded the risks or dangers knowing Harry entailed. He brought out in us a loyalty that he didn’t ask for but it was something we gave freely. Others, too, saw in him – and still see in him – something worth following, worth dying for.

“He would be the first to say that he didn’t ask for that type of sacrifice and if he could, he would have saved all those that have died for him. But evil is strong and no one knows that more than Harry.

“So tonight, as we celebrate his success in removing his shadow, we should also remember those who we have lost. For Harry the list is long – his parents, James and Lily, his godfather Sirius Black, Hagrid, Cedric Diggory, Dean Thomas, Ron’s brothers Charlie and Percy and of course Professor Albus Dumbledore. Their sacrifices so that we could live in peace should never be forgotten.

“On behalf of Harry, Ron and myself, I would like to thank the Ministry for the honours you have bestowed upon us. But I would also like to thank those who have stood by us all through thick and thin. The list is long and hopefully you know who you are because I’m afraid that if I list you all, there will be someone I unintentionally miss out.

“Please, enjoy your evening and thank you once again.”

The applause started immediately with Neville leading everyone into a standing ovation. Hermione gave a small, embarrassed nod before turning to leave the stage only to see Harry and Ron clapping madly.

“That was amazing Hermione,” Harry breathed, “there’s no way I could’ve ever come up with all of that!”

“Bloody brilliant,” Ron gushed. She flushed at the praise but then remembered what they had done to her. They had nearly reached their table when she turned to them, eyes blazing. But before she had a chance to speak they were surrounded by their friends, Remus and Tonks leading the charge.

“We thought we’d better come and rescue you Harry,” Remus said with a laugh, “as I think Hermione is going to kill you!”

“Which is fair enough,” Tonks added, drawing Hermione into a hug whilst still chuckling, “if it was me, I’d kill him too! You did great, by the way. Always saving Harry’s arse…”

“Yes, I am,” Hermione growled, turning back to Harry who took a step back in defence as she glowered at him. Ginny was at his side with the rest of the Weasley’s and various Order members watching them with interest – all laughing at Harry’s predicament, “how could you do that to me? In front of everybody! I could’ve made a gigantic fool of myself! Honestly…”

“But you didn’t,” he countered, suitably abashed, “you did brilliantly. I mean, you said everything I wanted to say but so much better. I…I am sorry I put you on the spot like that…”

“Put me on the spot! Put me on the spot!” she seethed, stepping towards him, “you did more than put me on the spot!”

“Give it a rest, Hermione,” Ginny cut in, withstanding Hermione’s glare without a problem, “you did great and everybody loved your speech so what’s the problem? Harry needed the summer to have some fun with me not waste it on writing a stupid speech…”

“Harry had one task, one responsibility,” Hermione countered, not standing down, “he knew I was going to be on holiday! He knew I wouldn’t have done anything about it and still…”

“We have some news,” Remus interrupted quickly, stopping Hermione in mid flight. Her attention suddenly went to her old professor and Tonks, her anger quickly forgotten. She caught Tonk’s eye and saw a gleam of happiness that told her all she wanted to know.

Tonks had been a regular visitor to the Granger house over the summer, the two friends often talking for hours about this and that. Tonks relationship with Remus was a frequent topic and one discussed at length, giving Hermione an idea of what might come next.

With a smile tugging at her lips, Hermione took her friends’ hands in hers in anticipation.

“Remus and I are getting hitched,” the young Auror grinned and Hermione exploded into a yelp of joy. The two young women hugged while everyone else offered their congratulations and well wishes.

“I’m so happy for you!” Hermione gushed before pulling away and looking at Remus, smiling, “congratulations Remus.”

“Thanks Hermione,” he said warmly, gathering his fiancé to him before she could be swept away by someone else, “I really can’t believe she said yes.”

“The plonker actually thought I’d turn him down!” Tonks laughed affectionately.

“Ah, well,” he continued, “I have been a bit dim when it comes to matters of the heart.”

“You’re not the only one,” Ron piped up, catching Hermione’s eye and smiling as she felt a familiar heat touch her cheeks, but luckily no-one else seemed to notice.

“Actually, that brings us to a very important issue,” Remus said, somewhat more seriously, “Harry, I have a question to ask of you.”

Everyone quietened down slightly as Remus stood face to face with Harry, who shifted uncomfortably. Hermione smiled to herself, knowing what was to come.

“Go on then,” Tonks prompted after the pause grew slightly.

“Yes dear,” Remus said automatically to the amusement of all around him. With a smile, he looked at Harry and said simply, “would you be my best man?”

Harry looked startled as he tried to process what Remus had just asked him. It only took a moment, however, before he broke out into a grin.

“I’d be honoured,” he replied in which Tonks pulled him into a hug and Remus clapped a grateful hand onto his shoulder.

“Excellent,” Tonks beamed as she turned to the applauding Hermione, “and I would be honoured, Miss Granger, if you would be my bridesmaid.”

“Me?” Hermione asked, suddenly aware that everyone was watching her – her eyes glanced unwittingly to Ginny, who was standing next to Harry and looking quite irate.

“Yes, you,” Tonks confirmed and Hermione looked back at her friend.

“Can…can we talk?” Hermione said suddenly and without waiting for a response, she dragged Tonks away from the crowd of friends and towards a shadowy edge of the hall. With a quick cast of a few spells that ensured their privacy, she turned to Tonks, “I can’t be bridesmaid if Harry is a best man!”

“Why not?” Tonks questioned, puzzled, “Remus wanted Harry with him because of their past and the camaraderie they built up during the war and I want you with me because you are, what I thought, my best friend and I want to share this extremely special day with you by my side. What’s wrong with that?”

“Because,” Hermione started frantically, “because of…you know.”

“We did talk about how this would work, what with your…situation,” Hermione interrupted with a disgruntled ‘humph’, “but we want you both with us.”

“But Harry and I?” Hermione continued, feeling quite panicky, “Tonks, you’re not making things easy for me!”

“I thought you two were doing alright? I mean, when we spoke last, you said that you were sure that you could handle just being his friend.”

“I know,” Hermione admitted, “I know. And at the time, I thought I was doing okay. But then he came and visited me…”

“He what?” Tonks cried, surprised, “you never told me that? When?”

“When you and Remus were away for your ‘dirty week’ in Paris – how was that, by the way?”

“Fantastic. Lots of shagging. But you’re changing the subject, Miss Granger – what happened? Why did he come to your place?”

“To say hi and check how I was since I left without saying good-bye and then hadn’t kept in touch…”

“I told you he’d do that! Didn’t I tell you?”

“Yes you did, Tonks. And I should’ve listened.”

“Why? What happened? Oh, sweet Merlin – you didn’t kiss, did you?”

“No!” Hermione cried in embarrassment.

“Well, what happened to get you so riled up?” Tonks pressed.

“We had a chat about…everything but then he stayed, spending the whole day helping my dad put up a garden shed. And then my parents asked him to stay for dinner…”

“He stayed for dinner?” Tonks repeated gleefully.

“That’s not the worst of it,” Hermione continued with a sigh, “they showed him baby photos of me. And mum was ready to call the social services about the Dursleys. He and my parents got on brilliantly.”

“Wow.”

“Yeah, wow,” Hermione groaned, “it didn’t make it any easier to stop loving him, I can tell you.”

“I bet,” Tonks agreed, “but sweetie, isn’t it a good thing? Isn’t him coming to visit show that he thinks of you?”

“He was afraid that he had hurt me,” Hermione sighed, “he thought I would be moping after him and he was concerned. He didn’t come and visit because he had a change of heart…”

“But tonight…”

“Tonight Ginny has been hanging off him. Tonks, his feelings for me hasn’t changed and probably never will.”

“Hermione, you didn’t see him while you were making you’re speech. The way he was looking at you…”

“It was out of gratitude and nothing more.”

The two looked at each other for a moment and Hermione could see Tonks wanted to say more but held her tongue. The Auror was convinced there was more going on with Harry than he wanted to admit and constantly tried to make Hermione believe that was the case. But she couldn’t. She wouldn’t. She was determined to carry on without him.

“Does this mean you won’t be my bridesmaid?” Tonks asked finally.

“Do you promise me this is not some match making scheme and you asked me solely because we are friends?”

“I asked you because we’re friends,” Tonks replied firmly, then with a bit of a smile, “though, if something came of it…”

“No, Tonks! No matchmaking! Promise me!”

“Alright, alright! Don’t get your knickers in a knot! I promise not to lock you and Harry in a small darkened room so he can come to his senses and snog you silly!”

“Tonks!”

“What?” she asked innocently before breaking into grin, “actually, that’s not such a bad idea…”

“Tonks!”

“Bloody hell, Hermione – relax!” Tonks cried, still smiling before suddenly sobering up and taking Hermione’s hands in hers, “in all seriousness, I really would like you to be there with me, Hermione. I mean, last year we went through so much, you and me and I think you were one of the few people who could really understand what I was going through with Remus ‘cause you were going through it with Harry…”

“It was difficult…”

“Yeah, it was,” the young Auror continued, “you saved my life, Hermione, in more ways than one. And although at times we are as opposite as you can get – you are now one of my best friends. Please, say yes.”

Tonks was right, the last year of the war brought the two together in a friendship that surprised everyone, including them. They had always gotten on but the dangers both they and the men that they loved were destined to face brought them even closer.

Hermione had never come out with her true feelings for Harry, so it was inferred that her concern was solely due to their friendship and that had been fine for her. Tonks love for Remus, however, was well known and his role within the werewolf community put him in a danger that had Tonks up many a night discussing her fears to Hermione.

For Hermione, Tonks was really the only female friend she had. The tensions between herself and Ginny never healed and although she liked Luna, the blond witch was just that little bit too way out for the more sensible, logical Hermione.

When Hermione saved Tonk’s life on the battlefield during one of the many skirmishes throughout the year, the bond between them was sealed.

“Of course I’ll be your bridesmaid,” Hermione said finally, “it will be an honour.”

“Oh, yay!” Tonks squealed as she grabbed Hermione into a hug, making her chuckle, “and I promise I’ll be good!”

Hermione didn’t say anything as she removed the privacy wards around them and they made their way to Ron, Luna, Harry, Ginny, Neville and Remus. She noticed the concerned looks from both Remus and Harry and the scowl from Ginny. Hermione chose to ignore the redhead and returned her attention to the excited Tonks.

“Of course, you won’t need to do much,” she was saying, “we’re not planning anything huge. And since both you and Harry will be here for most of the term…”

Something clinked in Hermione’s brain, causing her to stop in her tracks. Unfortunately it was just as they reached the others.

“Blimey, that took a while,” Ron stated bluntly.

“Is everything alright?” Remus asked to which he got a kiss and hug from Tonks.

“Everything is perfect,” she replied, “us girls just needed to confirm some finer details, that’s all.”

“It looked pretty heated…” Harry put in, his concern showing in his eyes – Hermione quickly looked away.

“No, no heat,” Tonks confirmed with a smirk, “just friendly teasing. But I got Hermione to agree in the end and that’s all that matters.”

“Excellent,” smiled Remus.

“What do you mean we’ll both be here?” Hermione asked, oblivious of the rest of the conversation as she glanced between Tonks and Harry.

“I mean that both you and Harry will be here, at Hogwarts,” Tonks said slowly, frowning, “finishing your education.”

“What?” both Hermione and Ginny exclaimed at the same time, causing them to share a look of shock. Hermione’s heart started beating wildly. What was going on?

“You’re going to Hogwarts?” Ginny shot at Hermione, her eyes blazing.

“Yes,” she replied, confused, “didn’t Harry tell you…?” She glanced slightly to Harry, who was standing behind Ginny, eyes closed and white as a sheet.

“No, he didn’t,” Ginny continued, “when did you tell him? I thought you guys didn’t keep in touch over summer?”

“Well, we didn’t. Not really. But he came to visit me about a month ago.…” She was sure she saw Harry flinch.

“A month ago,” Ginny repeated, fuming, “when did you decide to come back?”

“When I was still in hospital,” Hermione replied, suddenly feeling angry herself, “I spoke to Professor McGonagall then. What is going on here?”

No-one answered as Ginny turned on Harry who was now bracing himself for an onslaught he knew was coming. But Ginny was short and succinct with her fury.

“You bastard,” she hissed before turning on her heel and storming off. Harry ducked his head and seemed to be breathing deeply.

“You alright, mate?” Ron asked, concerned but Hermione was just angry.

“What’s going on?” she pressed, stepping closer to Ron and Harry so it was once again just the trio. Harry looked up at her then, and all she saw was pain and confusion looking back at her.

“I better go,” he said, gave a half smile to Ron and then dashed off in the same direction as Ginny.

“Will somebody tell me what’s going on!”

“Ginny didn’t know that Harry spent the day at your house,” Ron started, “and when he said that he had decided that he wanted to go back to Hogwarts and finish school, she was thrilled because she thought it was to be closer to her.”

“At least she pulled back in her quest to get him to be an Auror,” Remus added.

“That’s because she felt he still could join later,” Tonks scowled, her objection to Harry joining the elite band of wizards well known.

“Harry doesn’t want to be an Auror,” Luna breathed and everyone nodded in agreement.

“Why didn’t Harry just tell her that he came to visit me?” Hermione asked, “honestly, it’s not like we’re…we’re having an affair or anything! We’ve done nothing wrong!”

“Ginny’s a bit tetchy when it comes to you,” Ron added with a wry smile, “sees you as a threat, I think.”

“Well, Harry’s not helping matters by keeping secrets from her,” Hermione growled, “I don’t believe this! It’s going to be hard enough being head girl without having Ginny hating me!”

“You’re head girl?” Remus repeated, glancing at Tonks.

“Uh oh,” Neville muttered under his breath and once again the small group exchanged looks that Hermione didn’t understand.

“What?” she asked, glaring at Ron, who seemed very reluctant to answer her, “what?” she repeated angrily.

“Harry’s head boy,” Ron told her quietly.

Hermione was lost for words, not quite believing what she was hearing. It wasn’t supposed to be like this – she was supposed to have the year to herself so she could get over him and now…now not only were they going to be standing side by side at Remus and Tonk’s wedding, they were also going to be working together as head boy and girl.

She would be seeing him every day. She would be seeing him every day with Ginny. She would have to pretend every day that they were just friends, that he meant no more to her than Ron did. She would have to lie to everyone, including herself.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this.

“I need to go,” she said suddenly, ready to run out of the hall and away from everybody.

“No,” Ron blurted out.

“You can’t keep running, Hermione,” Tonks added.

“Besides, you’re my date,” Neville piped in, “and we haven’t even had a dance.”

Hermione looked at her friends with realisation of just how silly she was being. Her vows of not letting Harry disrupt her life had failed in her first real test – firstly not accepting Tonks without a second thought and now letting Harry ruin her night.

And there is no way, she thought to herself, that I’m going to let him ruin my year at Hogwarts either.

With a determined smile, she held out her hand to Neville, who took it slightly nervously.

“You’re right,” she told them, “you’re all right. Honestly, sometimes I can be so stupid! I’m letting things that really aren’t an issue become an issue so, yes Neville I’m your date and I think a dance would go down quite well right about now!”

So Hermione went off to dance with Neville and that one dance grew into many. Soon, she only thought of Harry and the horror of the year to come in fleeting moments between laughing and talking with her friends. She didn’t notice Harry and Ginny re-enter the hall as it seemed they were never in the same place as Hermione. And she didn’t notice how Harry’s eyes seemed to follow her when Ginny wasn’t looking.

But others did, and many wondered how long it will be before things would be as they should. Ron hoped it was soon – the tension was really starting to annoy him.

A/N – thank you once again for your reviews, I’m glad people are liking this! You’ll like this chapter even more – it is one of my favourites. So, sit back, read and enjoy!

Chapter 4

Everything was fine. With Ginny. They were fine. Nothing to worry about. At all.

Liar, Harry thought to himself as he stared at the ceiling above his bed. He had just finished dinner and came up with some feeble excuse to leave Ginny in the common room and retreat to his dorm where he lay on his bed, debating with himself.

It was now mid November and things at Hogwarts hadn’t been too bad. Though it was strange to be there without Professor Dumbledore, Harry was enjoying just being a seventh year student without a possibility of a death defying situation breaking into his studies.

And for the first time ever, he was enjoying his school work. Without Ron there to muck around with, he found himself concentrating in classes and keeping up with his homework with ease, even though Ginny did her best to distract him.

Ginny.

His girlfriend didn’t seem too concerned about her studies and constantly tried to get him to slacken off to spend more time with her. Naturally bright, she didn’t have much trouble keeping up with her own work load even with her quest to help him ‘relax’.

But for some reason Harry wanted to do well in his studies this year, which meant working hard. He didn’t really know why though he kept telling Ginny that he needed the good grades to become an Auror.

It’s so Hermione will be proud of you.

Harry closed his eyes with a weary recognition that this thought was true. He and Hermione often worked side by side when everyone else, including Ginny, had gone to bed, studying into the early hours of the morning. She helped him when he didn’t understand things but more often now, they actually discussed the things they were studying into sometimes a serious debate.

He enjoyed those evenings with Hermione. In fact, he enjoyed them more than his evenings with Ginny.

But Ginny is your girlfriend. Ginny is perfect for you.

Harry sighed, once more gazing at the nothingness of his ceiling. He liked Ginny, he really did. She was smart and funny and beautiful and she said she loved him. Sure, sometimes he wondered whether she loved Harry Potter the Hero or just him, Harry. And sure, sometimes it seemed she didn’t understand him at all what with the whole Auror push. But she had waited for him and cared about him and they looked so good together (supposedly – everyone thought so, according to Ginny). She was perfect.

Then why don’t you want to take things further with her?

Because she wasn’t perfect, not by a long shot. And the more time he spent with her, the more it seemed she wasn’t what he wanted in a girlfriend. He really couldn’t put a finger on why as nothing had changed since they dated back in his sixth year.

Except for the horcrux hunt. And the war. And Hermione saying that she loved him.

Hermione.

This time he let out a groan.

He didn’t feel different but logic told him he was. He wanted to be frivolous and not worry about anything other than things others his age worried about – but he couldn’t. He still had nightmares and the memories of what he saw during the last year haunted him. He was older than his years and that was affecting his relationship with Ginny.

It also brought him closer to Hermione in ways that Ginny could never compete with. And lately Harry realised that it was Hermione that knew him the best, who understood what he had gone through and why it had changed him.

Ginny didn’t understand that and wasn’t trying to understand. She felt she had given him enough space during the summer, enough time to clear his head and return to how he was before the war. But Harry didn’t think he ever could.

So he found himself spending more and more time with Hermione, innocently doing their homework and sometimes talking about the war and the past but really it was an excuse to be with her and not Ginny. He started to see his friend in a different light, a light that was scary for him. A light that was getting more and more attractive.

Which is why he kissed her two nights ago and messed everything up.

Letting out another groan, he grabbed his pillow from under his head and smothered his face with it, trying to blot out the memory of last Monday – but it didn’t work.

The image of her bent over her books, her familiar frown of concentration furrowing her brow, made him smile, even now. She had looked so cute – no, so beautiful – with the firelight dancing off her curls, highlighting the gold and copper that were hidden amongst the brown. He had been fascinated by the amount of different colours in her hair, something he had never noticed before.

She had looked up at him and smiled when she caught him staring, the urge to kiss her was so strong that he did everything he could to stop himself and it worked. For a bit. She had gone back to her notes and he pretended to go back to his but before long he found himself looking at her once more. He wanted to know what it was like to kiss her, how it would feel, how she would taste. He needed to know what it would be like. All thoughts of Ginny had disappeared and all there was was him, Hermione and the need to kiss her.

He had called her name, making her look up at him, puzzled. And then he did it – he leant over the small table and kissed her. At first she didn’t respond, but then she did, returning his kiss with equal abandon – for a brief, brilliant moment.

Before everything went pear shaped.

‘What the bloody hell do you think you’re doing!’

She had shouted at him, her face screwed up in anger as she stood up and backed away from where he was still sitting. He had stumbled on his words, trying to tell her what he was feeling, but it didn’t work.

‘How dare you, Harry Potter! How dare you use me! You have a girlfriend, a girlfriend who already thinks we’re fooling around behind her back! What kind of girl do you think I am!’

He had stood then, trying to placate her, trying to get her to understand that he didn’t mean to upset her. In truth, he hadn’t thought of Ginny at all but now realised that he had in fact cheated on his girlfriend. That thought, however, didn’t upset him as much as he knew it should’ve.

‘How could you do this to me? Did you even think of what kissing you would do to me? Did you even consider what it would be like for me? To do something I’ve...I don’t believe you!’

Harry groaned once more as the memory tore at his heart. She had stormed off then, telling him she was so angry with him that she couldn’t even look at him and hadn’t looked at him since.

The knowledge that his careless action had caused Hermione pain was devastating him. The truth was, he hadn’t even thought about what it would be like for her and the realisation of just how thoughtless he was made him feel a guilt like never before.

He knew she had feelings for him – how could he not know, it was always in the back of his mind – yet he did it anyway and perhaps ending his friendship with the one person that had always been with him, through thick and thin.

Taking the pillow of his face, he rolled over and now stared at the floor. He had no idea what to do or how to fix the mess he’d made with Hermione. Worse than that, he was no longer sure about what he felt for Hermione. Did he like her, romantically?

You wanted to kiss her, you idiot – I think that means a big, fat yes!

Yet another groan escaped from him as he realised what that thought meant.

Everything had changed.

With a new sense of urgency, Harry sat up. He needed to talk to someone about all this and he needed to talk to someone now. That someone had to be Ron. A small protest made him pause; the thought that he will be talking to his friend about his sister and Hermione making him think it wasn’t such a good idea, but then Harry knew he had no-one else. Remus was consumed with wedding activities and he couldn’t very well talk to Hermione…

With purposeful strides, he made his way to the fireplace which was his own personal floo – one of the many perks of being ‘The Boy Who Conquered’. Grabbing a handful of floo powder, he made his way into the green flames and stepped out at The Burrow, surprising a humming Mrs Weasley who was merrily doing some dishes at the sink. She directed Harry to Ron’s room where his friend was holed up reading some Quidditch magazine.

“Harry!” he exclaimed in surprise, “what’re you doi…”

“I need to talk to you,” Harry interrupted, shutting the door behind him and casting a few privacy spells.

“Sure, mate. What’s wro…”

“I kissed Hermione!”

“What?”

“I kissed Hermione,” Harry repeated as he paced around Ron’s small room, “and now she won’t talk to me and I don’t know what to do!”

“You kissed Hermione?”

“Yes. But she is really angry at me…”

“Why?”

“Well, I’m still officially with Ginny…”

“You kissed Hermione while still dating Ginny?”

“Yes!”

“That’s just asking for trouble, Harry…”

“I know!”

The two looked at each other for a moment as Harry willed Ron to understand.

“Does Ginny know about this?” the redhead asked eventually.

“No, not really,” Harry sighed, “but I think she knows something’s wrong. Actually, everyone knows something’s wrong. It seems we’re watched quite a bit…”

“Surprise, surprise…” mumbled Ron to an oblivious Harry.

“…Ginny wondered what was going on between Hermione and me and I lied…”

“Blimey Harry.”

“…I said we just had a row but I don’t think she believed me. I mean, everyone knows that Hermione and I always sort things out…”

“Bloody hell…”

“…but I couldn’t tell her the truth, she’d kill me! And Hermione already hates me…”

“She doesn’t hate you, Harry.”

“…and I don’t know what to do! What should I do, Ron?”

Harry stopped mid pace to look at his friend, who was watching him with mild amusement but Harry didn’t care. He wanted answers and was prepared to wait until he got them.

“You need to break up with Ginny,” Ron said after a moment.

“You want me to break up with Ginny?”

“I’ve wanted you to break up with Ginny for ages.”

“But she’s your sister!”

“So?” Ron humphed, “she’s also a selfish little cow who is only going out with you because you’re famous.”

“What?”

“Look, you’re my best mate,” Ron started as Harry sat dejectedly down on the desk chair, “and I understand why you’re going out with her. But she parades you around like some sort of prize, she wants you to spend your life doing a job you don’t want to do and she already planning a wedding that is the size of the Quidditch World Cup. She’s not right for you, she never was.”

Harry deflated as his friend’s words hit home. Part of him wanted to argue, to defend Ginny, to tell Ron that he was wrong – but he couldn’t. Ron really just confirmed what Harry already knew way back in the recesses of his mind, something that he wasn’t ready to admit to until now.

“She says she loves me,” he muttered, unconvincingly.

“You know something, I think she does,” Ron shrugged, then looked at Harry with a very un-Ron like intensity, “do you love her?”

“No,” Harry replied without hesitation.

“Do you think you ever would?”

“I…I don’t know,” Harry stammered, “how do you know?”

“You just know.”

“Do you love Luna?”

Ron thought about it for a moment, then a goofy grin covered his face as he said, “yeah.”

“Why?” Harry asked immediately, so caught up in his own misery that he didn’t blink an eyelid at Ron’s confession.

“She knows me, understands me, I guess,” Ron told him, thinking hard, “and when we’re together, it’s like I feel…I don’t know, complete. Whole.”

“Whole?”

“Yeah,” Ron continued, trying to put his thoughts into words, “all the time I fancied Hermione, it was like I was competing with her, trying to be better than her because I thought that’s what she wanted. I really had no clue. With Luna, I don’t have to try. I’m just me and that’s enough. We’re just us and that seems to work.”

“Ginny is always wanting more from me,” Harry sighed, slumping even further in his chair.

“And she always will,” Ron humphed, “once you’re an Auror, she’d want you to be head Auror, then head of Magical Law and then bloody Minister of Magic! She’d always want more.”

“But that’s not such a bad thing, is it?” Harry asked, aware of the sound of pleading in his tone, “always trying to be something better?

“No, not if that’s what you want,” Ron sniped, “is that what you want?”

“No.”

“Then you need to break up with Ginny.”

“You’re right,” Harry agreed reluctantly, already feeling guilty, “but how? I…I don’t want to hurt her…”

“Look, she’s gonna get hurt,” Ron informed him knowledgeably, “girls always take break-ups really hard, it’s just how they are. You just need to lay down the law, tell her the truth and then run like hell.”

“Right,” Harry looked at his friend with a sarcastic smile, “so you’re saying that I should tell Ginny that we should break up because I don’t think I could ever love her, that she expects more of me than I’ve actually got and that I think I, in fact, fancy Hermione – who she hates. Yeah, that will work.”

“Okay, perhaps not the truth then,” Ron conceded, shrugging, “just tell her that it’s not working and you want to break up.”

“Is that what you said to Lavender?” Harry asked, not yet convinced.

“Pretty much,” Ron shrugged again, “the thing is, whatever you say – she’ll cry. Then again, it is Ginny so she’ll probably scream and throw things at you. Or curse you. Either way, she’ll be upset so you have to stay strong. You need to do this, Harry.”

“Curse me? You think she’ll curse me?” Harry repeated with more than a slither of fear.

“Bloody hell, man – are you a Gryffindor or what?” Ron growled, “you defeated You-Know-Who, I think you can defend yourself from Ginny bloody Weasley!”

“I guess,” Harry sighed, ignoring his friend’s wrath, “what about Hermione? What should I do about her?”

“Give her time, mate,” Ron suggested sympathetically, no longer angry, “give her time.”

Harry just nodded absently as he tried to think about what he was going to say. Ginny wasn’t going to be happy and he really didn’t want to hurt her. After a few more moments of thought, he thanked Ron for his help and dejectedly flooed back to his room.

Realising he needed to do the break-up now before he lost his nerve, he stood facing his door, breathing deeply as he went over in his head what he should say. When he was satisfied, he took another deep breath and headed down the stairs.

Ginny was sitting where he left her, though one of her friends had joined her and they were chatting. He made his way to her and stood by uncomfortably until she glanced up at him – initially grinning until she saw the determined look on his face.

“Hey Gin,” he began, “can I have a word?”

“Sure,” she replied, puzzled, “but I thought you weren’t feeling well.”

“Um, yeah,” he mumbled, “do you want to go for a walk?”

“Walk?” she repeated, her confusion increasing, “it’s nearly curfew…”

“Er,” he bumbled along, “I just…I need to talk to you in private. We should be back before curfew…”

“Not that it matters,” she jumped in, standing and grabbing his hands, smiling once more, “you’re head boy! What would you do, put yourself on detention?”

Her friend laughed and Harry smiled a small, half smile. Without answering her, he led her out of the common room and towards the familiar make-out spot – the astronomy tower.

“So, what do you want to talk to me about, Harry?” she asked as they walked along, “is everything alright?”

“Um, no,” he answered, “not really. Look,” he paused, saw an empty classroom to his right, dragged her into it, then started to pace before continuing to speak, “I’ve been thinking, a lot, about everything lately and…and…” he paused again.

“What is it, Harry?” Ginny questioned sharply, and Harry could already hear fear in her voice, “what’s wrong?”

“I can’t do this any more,” he replied finally, not looking at her.

“Can’t do what?”

“Us,” he clarified, “you and me. I…I can’t do it any more. I think we should break up.”

Ginny didn’t say anything and Harry chanced a look at her. She was scowling, staring at the floor as she digested what he had told her, colour marking her cheeks with two red, angry blotches.

He waited.

“No,” she said finally and firmly, crossing her arms defiantly across her chest and glaring at him.

“What?” he stammered, uncertain with how he should proceed.

“No,” she repeated, “I’m not going to break up with you. You and I are meant to be together and what ever problems there are, we’ll work through them.”

“I don’t think we can…”

“Yes, of course we can,” she barked, “anything can be worked out! I’m not letting you walk away from me, Harry Potter! I’ve waited too long for you!”

“Ginny, please,” he pleaded, approaching her but stopping when she took a step back, “I…I don’t want to…”

“Is there someone else?” she cut in, now hands on hips and eyes blazing, “it’s because of her isn’t it! You fancy her, don’t you?”

“No,” he lied, knowing Ginny was meaning Hermione.

“Don’t lie to me,” she spat, “you’ve been lying to me enough already! I don’t believe this! I put up with all your moods, waited for you to come back! I accepted your friendship with her and now you’re dumping me for someone like Hermione?”

“What do you mean by that?”

“Oh, come off it, Harry,” Ginny growled viciously, “Hermione’s no beauty by any stretch of the imagination! You and me, we look amazing together, everyone says so! Just like your mum and dad…”

“We’re nothing like mum and dad,” he shot back at her, angry that how they looked seemed to be Ginny’s major concern, “and you think I’m with you because you’re good looking?”

“Of course not!” she scowled, “I actually thought you were with me because you loved me! It seems I was wrong!”

“Yes, you were,” he agreed with a frown of his own, “which is why we should end this…”

“I’m not letting you break up with me!” she yelled at him.

“You want to continue this even though you know I don’t want to?” he yelled back, “even though you know I don’t love you and don’t think I ever could?”

“You don’t love me?” she repeated, all fire gone and replaced with tears.

“No,” he told her more gently, “I’m sorry.”

“Do you love her?”

“I…I don’t know,” he answered truthfully, “but I know how she’s important is to me.”

“I…I thought,” she stammered, her tears starting to fall in more earnest, “I thought you loved me. I thought I was special to you.”

“You are special to me, Ginny,” Harry told her, this time coming closer to her and taking her shaking hands in his, “but I…I don’t love you and…and things have changed – I’ve changed. I can’t give you what you want, what you deserve. I’m sorry.”

Ginny just nodded, no longer able to speak. She took her hands away from Harry’s, wiping away her tears. Harry wasn’t sure what he should do now. He wanted to help her, to stop her from crying but logic told him that it was him that was making her cry – he would only make it worse. So he waited in silence.

“I…I better get back,” she whispered, not looking at him, “before curfew. I…I don’t want to get into trouble.”

I’ll walk you back…” Harry started but was quickly cut off.

“No,” she said sharply, backing away from him, “no. I can go on my own.”

“Ginny…”

“No!” she snapped, “leave me alone, Harry!”

With that, she ran out of the room leaving Harry standing there feeling so very guilty. He didn’t move for a while, his mind going over what had happened. When he thought he had given Ginny enough time to get back to the common room and to her dorm, he left his hide-a-way and dejectedly began his journey back to his room.

He had nearly made it when he heard his name being called. Turning towards the voice, he took a deep breath when he saw Hermione hurrying towards him.

“Harry,” she called out to him, stopping when she reached his side, “are you okay?”

“Yeah,” he lied, “sure. Why shouldn’t I be?”

“I…I bumped into Ginny,” Hermione admitted, looking worriedly at him, “she had a bit of a go at me. Told me that you had broken up with her. Have…have you really broken up…”

“Yeah,” he replied shortly, his eyes firmly fixed on a spot on the floor.

“Oh, Harry,” she cried softly, “I’m so sorry!”

Are you? Are you really? His thoughts fired through his brain in angry succession. It’s your fault – it’s your fault I made Ginny cry. It’s your fault I’m so screwed up! Are you really sorry?

But he didn’t say anything, or even look at her. Instead, he jammed his hands deep in his pockets and continued to the common room, leaving her standing in the corridor. He was aware of accusing eyes following him to his room, but he didn’t care. He’d had worse.

After changing into his pyjama’s, he lay on his bed and stared at the ceiling, knowing that sleep was a long way away. Sighing deeply, he wondered what would happen next. He had hurt Ginny and she’s not one that takes that sort of thing lightly.

It was going to be a rough few weeks.

A/N – ahh, the last chapter not as popular, which is a shame as I liked the Ron/Harry conversation (though so did many of you!). I hope this last chapter doesn’t disappoint as there were quite a few comments on things that won’t be answered here. Still, it’s full of fluffy goodness. Thanks for taking time to leave a note, I love reading them.

Until next time…enjoy.

Chapter 5

For one of the rear times in her life, Hermione was enjoying being a girl. Wedding preparation was in full swing with the event now only a couple of weeks away, and the constant owls from Tonks were a blessed distraction from the confusion that was herself and Harry Potter.

Not that Tonks was being entirely helpful with the whole ‘ignoring Harry’ thing – as soon as the Auror had heard of Harry and Ginny breaking up, she began badgering Hermione to make her move.

Instead, Hermione had tried to keep her distance.

After ‘The Kiss’, she had been so angry at him – and angry at herself for responding like she did.

But ‘The Kiss’ had been amazing.

Incrediable.

It had made her compartmentalised mind a swirl of emotions and it took all her self-control not to disintegrate into a pile of emotional goo every time she saw him, so she tried not to put herself into situations where she would see him.

It had been very, very difficult.

Knowing that Harry was no longer with Ginny had made things worse. She watched him withdraw into himself as Ginny displayed her hurt for the world to see. If it hadn’t been for the calming influence of Luna, the hostility between Harry and Ginny would’ve been unbearable.

As it was, Hermione found herself needing to make Harry feel better, or at least get a smile out of him. Which meant putting her own messed up feelings to the side and once more being his friend.

It had been very, very difficult.

But now, with the make-up and hair trial in full swing (as she continued fussing over her hair while a blissfully happy Tonks watched the progress with glee) Harry was the furthest thing from her mind. She was just Hermione Granger, bridesmaid.

By the time the wedding arrived, Hermione was in a very contented place. It had a lot to do with Tonks and more than once Hermione hoped that she would be so happy and relaxed when she ever married.

It wasn’t until she was standing at the doors that led into the inner sanctum of the small church where the ceremony was due to take place that Hermione began feeling nervous. She was to lead the procession down the aisle and suddenly the idea that everyone would be watching her as she did so, scared her.

But there was no turning back, so when the doors opened, she smiled and started making her way to the alter at the other end of the aisle. Everyone was standing, and though she knew they were looking at Tonks, she couldn’t help but feel every eye on her.

It wasn’t until she glanced at the two men waiting for them that she felt her smile falter. Harry looked so handsome in his dress robes, his eyes watching her with such intensity that she could feel it in her very soul. Hermione was only partially aware of Remus as all she could see was Harry.

When she reached the alter and took her place to the side of Tonks, she shyly glanced once more at Harry only to find him still watching her. He gave her a small smile, a blush tainting his cheeks – she smiled back with a blush of her own. She tried to concentrate on the ceremony, but she couldn’t. Harry was consuming her thoughts – the way he looked, the way he was watching her, this unknown look in his eyes.

She was definitely unnerved, her senses only returning when Remus and Tonks were pronounced husband and wife.

Hermione was then walking beside him down the aisle, making sure she didn’t touch him in any way though the feel of him next to her was making her heart beat much too fast. Before she knew it, they were at the small hall where the reception was taking place; speeches were being made, toasts being taken, dinner eaten and the first dance was ready to be danced.

She had purposely not made contact with Harry as every time she even looked at him, she couldn’t think properly. All through dinner, she made small talk with Tonks, making sure she didn’t even glance in Harry’s direction.

But now it was the first dance, and she was supposed to dance with Harry. Nervously, she stood when it was their turn to join Remus and Tonks on the dance floor. Hermione took Harry’s hand, shyly looking at him as they made their way to the others, neither saying a word. He put a hand on her waist and tentatively led her into the dance, she stumbling slightly as her concentration wavered at the feel of him. Furiously telling herself to stop being so stupid, she paid more attention to where her feet were going so not to trip over him and embarrass them both.

“You look amazing,” he said to her after a few moments, and she looked up at him to see if he meant what he said. As soon as she did it, she knew it was a mistake. The eyes that she loved so much were filled with the same emotion that she didn’t recognise.

“Th…thank you,” she stammered, quickly looking back down at her feet.

“It was a brilliant ceremony,” he continued, almost cautiously, “both Remus and Tonks look so happy.”

“She’s been glowing all week,” Hermione conceded, looking up at him briefly before glancing away, “they’re really suited.”

“Yeah,” he agreed.

Neither said anything for a while, Hermione’s mind so full of internal debate that speaking for her was not possible. She wanted so badly to get closer to him, feel his whole body next to hers – already he was close enough for her to be able to smell his distinctive ‘Harry’ smell, even feel his heartbeat – but she wanted to get closer.

Yet she knew she shouldn’t – she couldn’t! It would only lead to tears, her tears, and she had to stay strong. She had to remain a respectful distance. She couldn’t look at him. She couldn’t talk to him.

Which was very difficult when he was holding her as they danced.

She glanced over the top of his shoulder and noticed more people were now on the dance floor. She frowned slightly, wondering why no-one had separated her and Harry.

“I’m sorry,” he suddenly blurted out, startling Hermione as her eyes moved from a smirking Ron to a blushing Harry.

“What?” she asked, confused.

“I’m sorry for kissing you,” he clarified, his blush deepening, “you know, in the common room. It was wrong…stupid…and I shouldn’t have done it. But I’d been thinking of you so much and enjoying the time we were spending together and you looked so pretty there, with the firelight in your hair and I just wanted to know what it felt like. But…but I was…it was…I’m so sorry for hurting you, I wasn’t thinking.”

Hermione watched him with amusement as his words came out in an embarrassed rush and ended with a deflated sigh. He looked so cute that she forgave him immediately – but she wasn’t going to tell him that. Instead, she thought about what he had bumbled out.

“You thought I was pretty?” she asked finally, only vaguely aware that they weren’t actually dancing but more moving around slowly in a circle.

“I think you’re beautiful,” he answered her with such conviction that she looked up at him once more.

“No you don’t,” she frowned.

“Actually, I do.”

“What’s going on, Harry?” she fired at him, uncertain where his thoughts were going, “how can you go from not noticing me to thinking I’m beautiful? It doesn’t make sense. Is this…is this because of what’s happened?”

“Knowing how you feel about me,” he started, thinking hard as he spoke, “it made me look at myself and what I have. And how blind I’ve been. You’ve been there since the beginning and I’ve just taken you for granted, never really appreciating you and all you’ve done for me…”

“But that doesn’t…” Hermione interrupted, still confused.

“Let me finish,” Harry overrode her, a look of determination on his face, “please, Hermione, let me explain.”

She nodded her acceptance as they continued their shuffle of circles around the dance floor, her mind whirling.

“I’ve been thinking so much these past months,” he continued softly, “about everything – what I’ve been through, what I want to do with my life, you know, stuff like that. And I’ve realised that the only thing I’m sure of, the only thing that makes sense is that whatever I do, I need you there with me. I want you there with me.

“When I realised this, it scared me ‘cause what you and I have already is special and…and I don’t want to mess it up. But I started watching you and listening to you and thinking about you and, well, I stopped seeing you as just my friend and started seeing you as a girl…a woman…a beautiful, intelligent, independent strong woman who is everything to me. I…I don’t know how I feel because the whole concept of l…love is alien to me. The idea that someone actually feels about me like you do, well, I don’t understand it…”

“Harry…”

“…but I know that the only time I feel whole, complete, is when I’m with you. And…and I want to learn how to love with you.”

By the time Harry had finished, they weren’t even pretending to dance as Hermione stood and stared at him in shock. It was the most she could remember him ever saying and the fact that it was about his feelings was even more unusual.

And he had been talking about his feelings for her.

“What…what are you saying?” she managed to stammer out as she tried desperately to sort out everything in her head.

“I’m saying,” he began, no longer embarrassed as if he had found a new sense of courage, “that I hoping that you’ll agree to go out with me. On a date. As my girlfriend. Would you?”

“Go…go out with you?”

“Yeah,” he smiled shyly down at her making her smile back at him, “it’s the Christmas holidays, we have some free time, so…?”

“Yes.”

“Yes?”

“Yes,” she repeated, her smile growing into a grin, “I’d love to go out with you, on a date, as your girlfriend.”

“Brilliant,” he beamed, pulling her in closer as they started their shuffle once more, “brilliant.”

“But,” she began, making him stop immediately and look down at her, concerned, “there are conditions.”

“Conditions?” he repeated nervously.

“Yes,” she smiled with what she hoped was a reassuring smile, “conditions.”

“Like what?” he asked hesitantly, though a smile was twitching the edges of his mouth.

“Well,” she continued as she started to dance once again, unaware that the slow dance music had ended quite a few songs ago and that they were the only ones still together, shuffling around in their circle, amongst the more vibrant guests, “although we’ve been friends for ages, things are changing and I think we should take it slow…”

“Take it slow?” Harry quirked an eyebrow, “Hermione, we’ve been friends for nearly eight years – how more slower can things get?”

“Dating and being friends are two different things,” she explained patiently, “and though our friendship is a fantastic basis for a relationship, it’s going to be strange getting used to knowing I can do things to you that I couldn’t do as only your friend…”

“I like the sound of that,” he quipped.

“Honestly, Harry,” she admonished with a blush, “get your mind out of the gutter! I meant holding your hand and such like…”

“Oh,” he grinned, “I was thinking of stuff much more less friend like than that. I mean, we hold hands now.”

“True,” she admitted, “but holding hands as a couple means a whole lot more…”

“You’re thinking about this way too much,” he told her with a smile.

“Of course I am,” she smiled back, “I am Hermione Granger after all. Which is why we need to take this slow. I’ve been dreaming about you returning my feelings for a very long time, Harry. I need to get used to the concept that that dream is now a reality…”

“Which means taking things slow,” he nodded, “I understand. So how slow is slow?”

“Well,” Hermione furrowed her brow, “I don’t really know. Courting is…”

“Courting?” Harry let out a laugh, “Hermione, we’re teenagers. We don’t court!”

“We can do,” she fired back at him, slightly hurt.

“Hey, I’m sorry,” he apologised quickly, “I’m not making fun of you. It’s just, I don’t want to mess this up.”

“Neither do I,” she sighed, “perhaps we’re putting way too much pressure on us.”

“Perhaps,” he shrugged, then pulled her in closer so her head rested on his chest and his cheek on the top of her head. She was sure she was melting.

She closed her eyes and just revelled in what was taking place. She and Harry were now a couple, they were together and it felt wonderful.

“Hermione?” he murmured after a few moments.

“Hmm?” she replied lazily.

“Everyone’s looking at us,” he said and she opened her eyes. Sure enough, they were the only ones on the dance floor with everyone watching with various amused expressions on their faces.

“Let them,” she told him as she closed her eyes once more and just hugged him closer, “I don’t care.”

“Me neither,” he agreed, paused, then, “Hermione?”

“Yes Harry?”

“I…I know you want to take things slowly, and I understand that, I really do,” he rambled out, “but I’ve wanted to kiss you for so long now, and feeling you this close to me is making me…I want to kiss you more than ever. Can…can we perhaps go somewhere a bit more private?”

Hermione pulled back slightly so she could look at him and saw the same look in his eyes that she didn’t understand when he was standing with Remus at the alter. Her brain was frantically trying to tell her that going off to some secluded nook with him was just asking for trouble and all her talk about taking thing slowly would be for nothing.

But her heart was saying she wanted to kiss him so badly it hurt and that the look she didn’t understand was now very clear – it was desire. She realised that now because she felt the same.

With a small smile, she decided that it was time to take caution to the wind and follow her heart.

“Okay,” she answered and she could tell he was expecting her to say no. But he didn’t dwell on her surprise response for long as it was only seconds before they were off the dance floor, out the door, into the shadows where his mouth found hers and they were kissing madly.

“Wow,” he panted when they finally came up for air.

“Wow,” she echoed with equal breathlessness, “that was…”

“Yeah,” he finished for her, pulling away from her and leaning against the wall at her side. They both stayed like that for a moment, catching their breaths when Hermione made a decision.

“Oh, to hell with taking things slow,” she exclaimed as she turned to Harry, grabbed his face in her hands and kissed him once more.

As time went on, Hermione couldn’t remember when she had last been as happy as she was now. Her relationship with Harry just seemed to grow from strength to strength to the point where she knew with every inch of her heart that he would be the only man for her. Becoming lovers after being friends for so long just seemed like a natural progression, in fact everything seemed so natural and right that any new challenge that they faced didn’t seem scary or strange.

Just like the idea of living together once they left Hogwarts seemed like the thing to do, and making that home at Godric’s Hollow felt right. When Hermione accepted the job at the Ministry within the legal department, it was as if the perfect job came up at the perfect time and she accepted the offer without a second thought.

Harry had spent a year building their home, enjoying the time just being him but jumped at the chance to teach at the school that had been like a second home for him – and they both agreed Professor Potter had a nice ring to it.

By the time they got engaged, Remus and Tonks were parents to a lovely little boy and Ron and Luna had finally married.

Their own wedding happened in the September, two years after the much laughed about slow dance that took place at the Lupin reception, the birth of their first child, Andrew James Ronald, coming a quick thirteen months later.

As she looked back, Hermione couldn’t help but feel contented. She had a family she loved with a husband who was, most of the time, perfect. They had their disagreements, that was for sure, and at times his recklessness and need to put himself in danger to help others made her snap at him a bit too harshly – but the moments of happiness outweighed any tensions tenfold.

Sitting back in her chair, her hand resting gently on the swell of her pregnant belly, she watched Harry and their two year and a half year old son running around the back garden. It wouldn’t be long before their guests would be arriving to celebrate Harry’s birthday and the house would be full of the various Weasley’s and other assorted family and friends. She smiled a contented smile, trying to find a more comfortable position as the little girl inside of her made her presence known with a kick or two.

“Everything okay, sweetie?” Harry asked as he held the squealing Andrew in a gentle headlock.

“Everything’s perfect,” she told him and knew, deep within her heart, that everything was.