Hopeless

Hopeless

Viopathartic

If you squint, you'll see some hints about what's coming up. You'll notice that though this chapter is longer than the previous, it's still considered "short". Well, that's the way I'm writing the story so…

Anyways, you'll find out more if you read.

Hope you enjoy it.

---

I am a liar. I am a fake.

But it doesn't make me feel bad. Not even a little. See, people are happy when I lie. They're satisfied when I say things that they want to hear.

Harry, would you like some pie?

Yes, Mrs. Weasley.

Harry, will you be my best man?

Of course, Ron!

Harry, will you sit and suffer as you watch Hermione get married to your best friend?

I'd be glad to!

Mrs. Weasley and her sons' wives are cleaning up the kitchen as I sit at the counter. The Burrow get-together is ending at dusk and the party guests have separated. I think the men had gone outside a while ago to drink some butterbeer and firewhiskey.

"...my parents. Do you want to go?"

I shake away from my thoughts in time to realize that Hermione was talking to me. She has this look that tells me that I need to answer.

"What?"

"Were you listening?" she asks suspiciously.

"No, I spaced out. Sorry." Not really.

"Harry," she says as if she's disappointed, but I know that she wouldn't get mad at such a little thing. "Ron and I are going to see my parents tomorrow, and we wondering if you wanted to come?"

"Uh...no!" I answer quickly. Let me suffer alone.

"Why not?" Of course, she doesn't know...she doesn't remember...

I rack my brain to find a decent excuse but I mess up. "I just thought that you and Ron might just want to...you know...I--"

She suddenly understands--like always--and she says, sadly and sympathetically, "Oh, Harry! You don't think that we'd abandon you just because we're getting married! That would never happen."

I pretend to look embarrassed. "I know...but…why didn't you guys tell me that…"

I'm gripping my bottle again. Good thing it's sturdy, To her, it must seem like I'm nervous.

She mouth forms and "o" and she flushes. "The baby."

"I thought you wanted to wait until you're married," I say quietly. I remember the time when we talked about life after Hogwarts. She told me, firmly and sincerely, that she would wait until we—

"What?" She looks at me weirdly, and suddenly, I remember my place.

I'm Harry Potter, the best man.

"Never mind," I mutter, "I was just surprised."

"You sound…" she hesitates, "disappointed."

I freeze for a second—just one second—before making myself laugh. "Why would I be disappointed, as you say? It's not like…I-I'm your father! I'm only saying that I never imagined this happening…"

"It was sudden. I didn't expect it either," she whispers to me. "You know."

No, I don't know.

But I nod as if I do. That makes things go much faster.

"So are you coming with us tomorrow? I need someone to be there when I tell mum about the news," stated Hermione. She's pleading for me with her eyes.

I open my mouth but naturally, I don't get to speak.

"Besides, my parents like you...AND you're the best man. We're going to talk about wedding arrangements and you HAVE to be there," she demands of me. I can't argue because she always gets me when she uses that tone. It's just so...Hermione. I would never want to disappoint her.

Plus, if I keep this up, they'll probably ask me why I'm avoiding any involvement in the wedding. Again, I don't want that to happen. Yeah, I have plenty of logic,

"Alright," I answer quietly. "I'll go."

She smiles and clasps her hands together. "Good. Now where did Ron go? I need to speak with him for a little..."

I point to a general direction--I have no bloody clue where her fiancé was and frankly, I don't care—and Hermione leaves.

Mrs. Weasley hums as she cleans the top counters next to me. I smile back, stretching my mouth so far that I thought my face would break.

---

I'm walking next to Hermione while Ron got the other side. We just apparated to a spot three blocks away from Hermione's home and were currently walking by foot. She has her arms looped through ours and she's holding the two of us close, so close that I could smell the shampoo that she uses.

I constantly ask myself, "Why?" Why am I walking besides the girl who I love while she is squished between me and her fiancé? Why am smiling as if my life was perfect?

Well, those questions are useless.

I realize it too belatedly because the three of us—the proud, the pregnant, and the pathetic—are already standing on the doorsteps to the Grangers' home.

My eyes, as if acting on their own, move down to watch as her hand and his hand intertwine. They're nervous, I can tell. I can see it in their eyes. They're afraid that they would not be accepted, that their engagement at such a young age—23 years old, just to let it out—would not be celebrated but frowned upon.

The door swings open and Mrs. Granger is there to attend to us. She puts on a look of surprise and beckons her daughter to come in, but I already know that she knew we would come. Hermione's not the type to just drop by.

People begin to speak. Hi, how are you. I'm fine, and you?

I reluctantly put on a smile, an act that I know I will have to do if I want to be believed.

We settle in the living room and Hermione gets it over with first. She sits her parents down and then Ron and herself. I sit myself in the chair next to her, awaiting the moment to be over. Hermione grabs her fiancé's hand for support and then nods determinedly. Her voice is small and hesitant at first, but it was at the end where she firmly stated that she, Hermione Granger, was getting married.

It's a repeat of yesterday. Hermione! Wow! Congratulations! I don't really remember much because I had already left (not physically but in my mind). In my place was a body that had black hair on his head and green eyes.

At least the celebration was quicker than yesterday's.

Am I the only who realizes that she and Ron failed to mention the baby?

Must have slipped their minds.

Hermione had told me about her family, but she left out the fact that they were pretty well off. Her house is probably three times the size of The Burrow. The lawn was immaculately managed and the garden with flowers blooming in the summer's day only completed the image of Hermione's home.

Her parents lead us through the house. They give us a general tour of their living room, kitchen, and library (of course), and pointed us to our bedrooms.

Hermione had already gone to her childhood bedroom while me and Ron were left to claim our rooms. I go for the one nearest to the bathroom and next to Hermione's room. I'm surprised to find that the room was very fitting of me. The walls were painted a pearl white and were bare except for some bookshelves and an oval shaped mirror hanging on one of the walls. My bed was a queen size, which reminded me of my times at Hogwarts.

I drop my bags onto my bed and stand there in the middle of the room. A week. That's how long I have to stay there. All the while, Hermione had said, we're going to talk about the wedding and her dress and his tuxedo and...

Oh joy!

I feel like a Maid of Honor instead of a best man.

I'm assuming that this room used to be Hermione's extra room; she was, after all, an only child. I see her books lining the walls on built in shelves. A large map of the world hung above the bed and as I look closer, I see Hermione's young handwriting. She had apparently used abbreviations and numbers to memorize the countries. England was number 1 and was marked with E to the third power...I'm not going to even try to understand her mind.

There was also an antique nightstand next to the bed. A couple of picture frames were neatly arranged to from a square. I bend down to see Hermione as a toddler, Hermione as a child, and Hermione as a "nearly" teenager.

In every single picture she has brown curly hair and a smile that can rival that of Dennis Creevey.

I pick the last of her photos and it looks like it's the most "recent" one. Hermione must have sent her graduation photo home.

Hermione, flushed red from giving the Hogwarts Farewell speech, holds up her diploma triumphantly. Her hair looks exceptional; tamed, in yet still giving an essence of how Hermione really was. We're all wearing our fancy graduation robes; even Ron's was top notch. I'm standing next to her in the picture. Half of the front of my body is exposed while the other is hidden behind her. I'm smiling down at the lovely Hermione while she waves energetically at the camera. Ron is on the other side of Hermione--the formation similar to ours from before. He's not looking straight though. His left arm was pointed at something at a distance and he appeared to be shouting happily. Whatever it was…it must have been entertaining. I see a trace of blond hair at the corner of the picture. I think Luna took the picture.

I, in true form and as an observer, hold my breath when I see Picture Me turning Hermione so that her body was flush against mine.

Then, I watch as I kiss her.

This movement stirs something within me. Colors, flashes, memories…they scour in my mind, but I try to put up my wall again so that I wouldn't let myself get lost…Her laugh, her smile, her kiss…we were young but we knew that we were in love. I thought nothing could stop us.

We were happy, weren't we, Hermione. Even though Voldemort was going to attack soon, we didn't have a care in the world, remember?

I quickly lay the picture frame flat on the nightstand. I'm breathing heavily because I'm remembering again. And I don't like to remember. I try not to remember. I calm myself by taking deep breaths and counting to ten with my eyes closed.

Unexpectedly, I feel something hit the back of my knees and then hear a soft thud. So, naturally, I turn and look down. It took me a few seconds, but I realize that a kid is sitting on the floor.

It's a young boy.

"Hullo?" I ask uncertainly. The boy merely blinks. He looks about 3 or 4 and his age is apparent as he suddenly smiles big.

"Hi!" He continues to sit on the floor and looks up at me as if I was someone really cool.

"Umm...hi," is all I can say. I'm trying to figure out two things. One: Who is this kid? Two: Where did he come from?

"Liam! Where are you?" A woman voice calls for, I suppose, Liam.

The little boy giggles and scrambles to his feet. Without even a word and only with a small smile, he turns and runs away.

I stare after him and then shake my head. Cute kid but still strange.

I finally finished my unpacking and with the boy and Hermione still on my mind, I decide to meet up with the rest. I try not to make an awkward entrance so I tip toe my way down the stairs, hands smoothly descending down the railing.

The sound of a voice catches my ear.

"...been ages! You look so well and I can NOT believe that my little cousin is getting married..."

Frankly, I don't know where I am. Guessing that being wrong may turn out to be right, I turn a corner and Hermione, her mum, and some other woman comes into view. The boy who crashed into me was hiding behind the back of the unnamed woman's knees. When he sees me, he pokes his head out and giggles again. I notice that he has only a few teeth.

"Oh! This must be him!"

Next thing I know, the woman grabs me by the sleeve and pulls me into the women's circle. Her hands move from face to my shoulders and they probably would have headed to my abs if Hermione didn't gently stop her.

"Anne, you're making him uncomfortable. This isn't my fiancé; he's the best man. I think Dad probably pulled Ron away," explains Hermione who smiles and lets go of Anne's hand.

"Oh," Anne whispered, a blush appearing on her cheeks. She bends down and picks up the little boy. "I'm sorry! I just go so excited!"

I smile slightly and wave a hand. Then I point to the boy. "Is he your son?"

Anne smiles widely and embraces the boy. "Yes, this is Liam. Liam meet..." She doesn't know my name so I jump in and say:

"Harry...and I met, uh, Liam already back in the living room. We, um, ran into each other."

"Oh!" Anne smiles then move forward as if giving her son to me. "Liam, say hi."

"Hi!"

His mother laughs. "That's the only word he knows at three."

Liam suddenly giggles. He's a happy fellow, I see. All of the sudden, he jumps into my arms. The only reason I caught him was because I was so close to him. Along the way, my glasses sort of fell off my face.

"Oh," Anne giggles (probably where Liam got it from) and apologizes, "Sorry. He's very hyper."

"That's--er--okay--" The boy is wiggling a lot, and I'm afraid that I might drop him. Finally, he settles so that he's face to face to me. I'm holding him by the butt (but I don't think I'm supposed to do that). His small hands reach out and touch my face. He goes for the glasses, of course.

"Wait, no--" I try to say but he already grabbed them off my face and he's now wearing them. He looks ridiculous. I can't help but laugh. "You look really weird, Liam."

He giggles.

Anne makes a sound and gushes, "Oh, he likes you, Harry. He wouldn't have jumped on you if not."

I'm kind of glad to say that I like him too.

"He looks...big for a three-year-old." Merlin, it sounds like I'm calling him fat. He wasn't at all, but I always imagine three-year-olds to be smaller.

"Yeah. He loves his food."

I say to Hermione whose smiling at her cousins, "Oh no, I believe we have a Ron in the making."

She slaps my arm but she's laughing.

Anne smiles but she's confused. "Who's Ron?"

Right on cue, the subject of our conversation walks into the room followed by Mr. Granger. He smiles slightly once he sees some familiar faces.

"That's him," I say. Liam starts to make sounds and claps, which is unfortunate since I'm the one holding him.

"Wow! A redhead!"

"Yeah...um, and my hair's real," jokes Ron. I finally see my best friend back to normal.

"I never would have thought that you, Hermione, would fall in love with a redhead. When you were younger, you always seemed to like dark-haired fellows..."

And I swear I see Anne glancing briefly at me.

"Well, that was when I was younger, Anne. Now, I've found my man to marry."

I try not to look at Hermione's smiling face when she says that. Liam notices my expression, and so, he puts his hands on my cheeks and looks at me. He says a stream of gibberish, but I know that he's asking, "What's wrong?"

I've heard of studies that say that kids like Liam are best at recognizing expressions. They have some sort of sense that they unfortunately lose when they grow older.

I smile at Liam. I'm falling in love with the little fellow.

"Hey, who's that?" Ron asks, pointing to little Liam. The young boy has his back to Ron and begins to play with the parts of my face again.

"He's my cousin's son so I guess Liam is kind of my nephew," Hermione says.

"Oh, Liam, stop it!" Anne scolded, yanking her son away from me. He tried to mess up my hair—not that I cared.

"No, that's fine, I can hold him," I offer because really, the kid is cute.

He easily accepts my invitation and stretches his arms out to me again. Liam claps his hands together and gives a high pitch squeal. He's looking around at everyone as they look at me and him. I see that Ron is amused because he is smiling widely.

Hermione looks me and she laughs as well, and I see her eyes sparkling.

I smile widely at her. See, I'm happy! Laugh, chuckle, ha-ha, I'm happy!

Ron puts his arms around his fiancée's waist and smiles down at Hermione.

I smile wider. Liam frowns at me.