Leave Out All The Rest

DonovanPotter

Rating: PG
Genres: Angst, Romance
Relationships: Harry & Hermione
Book: Harry & Hermione, Books 1 - 7
Published: 10/01/2009
Last Updated: 23/01/2009
Status: completed

It's that time of year again, but now it's Hugo and Lily's turn to go to Hogwarts. Their families gather to see them off and Hermione has a proposal for Harry that he accepts with a resounding 'yes'.

Chapters

1. Chapter One

2. Chapter Two

3. Chapter Three

4. Chapter 4

5. Chapter Five

6. Chapter Six

1. Chapter One

A/N - yes, it's been a long time but my muse left me for a while, this story has been annoying me (but I was determined to finish it before I started anything else) and I've been incredibly busy with life (including changing jobs). Still, I've been reading some wonderful Portkey stories and haven't given up. So, I hope you like this - it's completed so there will be regular updates and is six chapters long. Oh, and it follows canon (mostly) so there are Harry/Ginny and Hermione/Ron. Cheers.

Chapter One

Opening his eyes, Harry felt the remnants of his dream swirling around his head and he frowned. It wasn't like his usual dreams or a Voldemort dream, but it didn't make it any less unsettling. Sighing, he knew he wasn't going to get any more sleep and resigned himself to yet another frustrating wait until morning.

Staring at the roof of the tent, he thought over what had disturbed him. His frown deepened as he remembered the images, making him look over in the darkness to the tents' entrance where he knew Hermione was sitting outside, keeping watch.

It had been a day since the mess at Bathilda's and the loss of his wand so it wasn't any surprise that sleep wasn't coming easy, even though he was slowly coming to terms with what had happened and the devastation he felt from what he had learned about Dumbledore.

And now he had this dream.

It wasn't the first time that Hermione invaded his thoughts - his fear of losing her often entering his subconscious with the knowledge that if she left he'd be totally alone. But in this dream, he had been the observer, watching as his friend reacted when one day she woke up and he had gone. Harry saw Hermione panic and the scene changed from being in the tent in the middle of nowhere, to Hogwarts where all their friends were. Hermione went to Ron and told him that Harry was missing, and Ron hadn't cared, saying that they were better off. But Hermione didn't listen and instead went to Ginny, telling her the news. Harry watched Ginny, the Ginny he knew, tell Hermione that Harry went missing ages ago and that she had moved on, and that she was with Dean now. Still Hermione didn't give up and kept going to all that she could - Remus, Neville, Mr and Mrs Weasley, Professor McGonagall, even Snape, and no-one cared.

It was then that Harry had woken, the memory of how Hermione had been so scared fresh in his mind. And now, as he lay in the dark wondering if he'd truly be missed if (when, he corrected himself) he died, a new fear began to grow.

What was he leaving behind? How would people remember him when he was gone? As a crazy, teenager who thought he could save the world? As a useless boy not worth a passing thought, just like what the Dursley's used to tell him when he was at Privet Drive? A reckless, thrill-seeker who constantly got his friends into danger because of his own stupidity? Someone full of his own self importance, which eventually got himself killed?

Sighing deeply, Harry sat up, put a jumper on over his pyjamas, grabbed his glasses, put on his boots then made his way out of the tent to where Hermione was sitting, reading a book in the firelight of one of her wonderful blue fires. Slightly startled when he came out, she quickly relaxed as he sat down next to her.

“Couldn't sleep?” she asked unnecessarily, and he nodded.

“Weird dream,” he explained and this time she nodded, put her bookmarker in place and closed the book.

“Want to talk about it?” she asked and he could hear the hesitancy in her voice, a small reminder of the awkwardness of the past few days. Harry thought before answering, the idea of telling her his dream and how he was feeling seemingly pointless. But the fear felt real and strange and new and he was too tired to keep hiding everything away.

“I dreamt I went missing and you were the only person that seemed to notice,” he explained quickly, “that really cared…”

“Oh, Harry,” she sighed, reaching out and taking one of his bare hands and covering it with her warmer, mittened one.

“Can I ask you something, Hermione?” he said, looking into her face for any more hesitancy - there was none.

“Of course,” she replied immediately, her full attention focused on him.

“Can you help me think of reasons why I'll be missed,” he continued strongly, “when…if I die at the end of all of this.”

“Harry!” she cried, pulling back from him slightly in shock.

“Please,” he pleaded, scooting closer and this time taking her hands in his, “please, help me because all I can think of is the bad stuff, the wrong stuff…”

“The bad stuff?” she repeated with a frown.

“Yeah,” he carried on relentlessly, “like stupidly going to the Ministry to save Sirius and instead he dies and I nearly get us all killed, like agreeing to the protection plan to get me out of Privet Drive and getting Moody killed, and George losing his ear. Like killing Dumbledore…”

“You didn't kill him, Harry,” she shot at him, “and none of those other things were your fault either. You-Know-Who…”

“Right, it was his fault,” Harry interrupted, “every disaster in my life is his fault. But that's what people will remember…”

“No,” she practically yelled and he stopped and stared at her. He could see her eyes glistening from the flicker of the blue flames before them, but amongst the tears was a gleam of resolute belief.

“Help me leave behind some reason to be missed, Hermione,” he said softly.

He watched as she thought hard about his request, her eyes dropping to stare at their hands as she did so. After a few moments, she looked back up at him with a familiar stubborn glint shinning in the firelight.

“Firstly, Harry Potter,” she started firmly, “you are not going to die.”

“You don't know tha…”

“No!” she cut in, “you are not going to die! You will not go through all this pain, all this horror and not experience true happiness, like you deserve! I will not let that happen!

“Secondly, there are a lot of people who would miss you if you weren't around. Just because they're not here, doesn't mean they don't care about you. Ron…Ron has always had issues about certain things and sometimes they rule his head. But he's your best friend, Harry, and he loves you like a brother…”

“He has a funny way of showing it,” Harry mumbled bitterly at the first mention of Ron since he left.

“I…I know,” Hermione admitted, taking a deep breath as she composed herself before continuing, “and then there's Ginny. You know she'll miss you!”

“Actually, I'm not too sure,” Harry sighed, “I mean, she let me go so easily, you know? And she's with other blokes there at Hogwarts. She could've easily found someone else…”

“Do you really believe that?”

Harry paused before answering, remembering the kiss on his birthday and how upset she was when it had been rudely interrupted by Ron.

“No,” he finally said and Hermione gave him a small smile.

“That's what I thought,” she nodded, “and what about all the others? The Weasley's? Hagrid? Remus? Don't you think they would miss you as well?”

“I guess.”

“Exactly,” she nodded again, more firmly this time, “and thirdly, there are already many reasons for you to be missed, Harry, and I can guarantee you that people will remember the good ones not just the bad.”

“You mean the whole `Boy-Who-Lived' nonsense?” he nearly growled, “that's not what I want to be remembered for.”

“I don't mean that and I think you know it,” Hermione continued, squeezing his hands slightly, reminding him that she still had them covered with hers, “how about your kindness, about your bravery, about how you've been the best friend a person could ever have.”

Pausing when her voice hitched slightly, Harry watched her face as she once more looked down at their hands. She was fighting back tears, he could tell, but he had another question to ask and he knew he had to ask quickly before he lost his nerve.

“Will you make sure people remember the good things, Hermione?” he asked softly.

“You can make sure yourself,” she sobbed, a lone tear rolling down her cheek as she glanced quickly up at him, then back down to their hands, “you're not going to die.”

“But if I do,” he pressed, wiping the tear away with the pad of his thumb, “will you help people remember the good stuff?”

“I can't talk about this with you!” she suddenly cried, standing up from him and turning away, “I can't even think about the possibility that you'll die, Harry! I can't!”

“But you must have some doubts…”

“Must I? Why?” she asked, once more facing him as he stood, “have you any idea what my life will be without you in it?”

“It'll be no different,” Harry answered, frowning with a half shrug, “you have Ron…”

“I don't have Ron!” she yelled, “haven't you noticed? He isn't here! No-one is here! I've given up everything for you, and if you're not here either, I have nothing left! So, no, I have no doubts what so ever about you not dying, because quite frankly, if you do, so do I!”

“Hermione…”

“No, Harry,” she continued, making her way to him so that they were face to face, “no, don't - okay? Don't say anything, just listen. You can't die, you just can't - I won't let you. Because you were my first real friend, are my best friend, and…and…the thought of you not being in my life is just too frightful to comprehend.”

Neither said anything for a moment - Harry too lost in her words to be able to say any himself. He never really realised how much he meant to Hermione, never thought about how much she had given up to help him, just accepting her loyalty without a second thought. Mentally berating himself, he knew that he needed to make amends.

“Thanks,” he said gently as he watched her slump back down to her spot next to the fire, he slowly sitting down next to her, “thanks for everything.”

“You're welcome,” she whispered, her tears running freely. Knowing he should of done it days ago, when Ron first left and he knew she had been crying, Harry scooted over and draped a comforting arm around her shoulders, drawing her into him. Holding her as she wept, he thought more about what she'd said and although part of him realised he should just leave it there, that he had already pushed probably too far, he felt compelled to say one thing more.

“Promise me,” he said ever so gently, “that…that if something does happen to me and you're resenting me for leaving you, or when you're feeling empty, you know? That you'll remember the good bits and leave out all the rest. That thinking of me will make you happy, not sad.”

“Harry…”

“Promise me,” he repeated more strongly.

“I promise,” she told him, moving out of his embrace to wipe her face, then gave a little half laugh.

“What?” he asked.

“It's just that,” she began, blowing her nose on a hanky, “I wish I could be more like you.”

“What do you mean?”

“You go through all these horrid things,” she elaborated, “had this terrible life yet at the graveyard, that was the first time I've ever seen you cry. It feels like all I've done for the last year and a half is blubber away like a silly little girl. I wish I could hold it in like you do, just deal with things then move on. I mean, after Cedric, you were so angry but it was about so many things. Yet after…after Sirius, you just seemed to accept his death and get on with things. I wish I could do that.”

“I'm not sure if my way is the best way, Hermione,” he admitted, putting his cold hands under his armpits, “and there have been many times when I've been a wreck.”

“I've never seen those times and neither has Ron.”

“That's because neither of you two have been there,” Harry shrugged, “you should've seen me in Dumbledore's office after the nightmare at the Ministry. After Sirius. And when you were hit, I was a mess. I may seem strong on the surface, but let me assure you, that strength doesn't go all the way through.”

“I guess that's good to know,” she smiled, finally looking at him again, “it makes you more human.”

“Not the infallible hero, you mean,” he scoffed, “if people really saw how scared I am most of the time, they wouldn't have so much faith in me.”

“Sometimes I see your fear,” she told him, “in your eyes.”

“You do?” he questioned, “and you're still here?”

“Of course I am,” she stated matter-of-factly, “you're not perfect, Harry. And neither am I. Which, of course, is more than obvious.”

“I dunno,” he smiled, nudging her slightly with his shoulder, “sometimes I think you're pretty perfect.”

“Honestly, Harry,” she humphed, “when have you ever thought that? Actually, you don't need to answer. I know you're just trying to make me feel better after all this talk about death and whatnot.”

“You've caught onto my plan,” he chuckled, feeling good to smile again.

“And a good plan at that,” she chuckled along with him, all traces of her earlier tears gone, “I also like your plan to change the subject so we are well away from talking about you and how you feel.”

“I think I've already told you too much about how I feel,” he admitted, suddenly sober again.

“Sometimes…sometimes I forget how well you are at hiding all your hurt and pain away,” she said, once more quiet and reflective, “I guess that's all part of this strong persona you portray. The thing is, Harry, although I wish I could do what you do and forget, I can't. I need to stop pretending that someone else will come along and save me from myself - I need to do that on my own,” she paused as she took one of his hands from its place of warmth under his armpit, took off a mitten, enlarged it and put it on his cold hand, “I keep trying to be like you, be strong like you and just focus on the job we have to do,” she took his other hand and repeated the process, looking directly in his eyes when she'd finished, “but I know now that I can't be who you are.”

The moment seemed to last forever - her eyes searching his as his hands began to warm in her mittens. Harry didn't know what to say; he realised he had already said too much already. Instead, he just closed his eyes when she leant forward and placed a gentle kiss on his forehead as she stood to leave. By the time he opened his eyes, she was gone.

I can't be who you are

He realised with a thud, he didn't want her to be more like him. He liked, no loved, how unique, how emotional she was. How she complimented him and his lack of ability to show anyone how he truly felt. How she complimented him in so many other ways. How lucky he was that she was still with him.

And how he was sure that this night would stay in his thoughts, be treasured, for the rest of his life.

What Harry didn't expect was the return of Ron the following day, how seeing Ron's fear about anything deeper than friendship between Harry and Hermione really affected him. And that the thought of betraying his friend put any thought of Hermione and the conversation they shared back into the recesses of his subconscious.

He did what he was finding easier to do as time went on. He forgot about it and moved on.

A/N 2 - there you go, a bit clumsy but eh, what can you do. Sometimes I read it and I think its okay, other times I read it and don't think it is. I leave it up to you to decide.

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2. Chapter Two

A/N - thank you for your reviews! Just a warning, this is short and angsty and takes place after the worst bit of professional writing I've ever read (yes, I'm talking about the epilogue) so it is canon. But don't fret, there is no warm hot fuzzy's at all in this chapter. Enjoy.

Chapter 2

Nineteen and a half years later

Hesitating, Harry stood on the top step and looked at the door, thinking, not for the first time, whether he was doing the right thing. But the events of two days ago had disturbed him more than he liked and he knew that he had to find out the truth otherwise he'd drive himself mental.

Taking a deep, calming breath, he knocked on the door and waited for the occupant of the house to answer. It didn't take too long before a woman who he'd known for more than half his life was standing there in front of him.

“Hey Hermione,” he greeted with a smile, trying to ignore the look of shock that covered her face.

“Harry,” she stammered, “my, this is a surprise. Er, Ron isn't here - he's with Hugo at that Quidditch thing that you suggested they'd go to…”

“I know,” Harry cut in, still smiling what he knew was a stiff smile, “I actually wanted to have a chat with you. Can I come in?”

“Sure,” she said after the briefest of hesitations, “come on through.”

Harry entered the home of Ron and Hermione and their two children, Rose and Hugo. He knew this house as well as he knew his own - small, clean and tidy with a healthy dose of Weasley clutter in places that were definitely Ron's domain. Harry liked it here better than the mansion that Ginny had insisted they buy, liking the more homely feel rather than cold marble floors and too many rooms to live in of his own house.

“How've you been?” he asked as he followed Hermione into the kitchen, noting absently how tired she looked.

“Okay, I guess,” she replied, putting the kettle on and getting out two cups ready for tea, “missing Rosie like you wouldn't believe.”

“Oh, I can believe it,” Harry said, still trying to smile, “when James went that first year, I was a wreck!”

“Really?” she questioned, glancing at him briefly with surprise before going back to her tea making, “I would've never guessed.”

“That's strange,” he chuckled a laugh that had no humour in it, “because once upon a time you could read me like a book, know how I was feeling before I did…”

“Why are you here, Harry?” Hermione cut in with a frown.

“Do you realise that you and I never spoke at Kings Cross?” he said directly, finally catching her eye, “that when we saw our kids off, we spoke to everyone else but each other?” He watched as she thought about it and could see the realisation cross her face, but she stayed silent. Determined now, he asked the question that had been on his mind since his two - James and Albus - and little Rosie, Ron and Hermione's eldest, went off to Hogwarts.

“When did you and I stop being friends, Hermione?”

“I think you already know the answer to that,” she replied, her voice hard. Her lack of denial and quick response to his question highlighted to Harry even further what he guessed was true - they weren't friends any more, just acquaintances.

“Since Ginny accused us of having an affair two years ago,” he answered his own question with a deep sigh as he watched Hermione fight back tears, still not able to look at him, “we did nothing wrong, Hermione.”

“That's not what Ginny thought,” she whispered, “and Ron. In fact, you shouldn't be here, Harry. If she finds out, your marriage will be over.”

“My marriage is pretty much over already, and you know that,” he told her quietly, “but that's not why I'm here. I miss you, Hermione, I miss us, our friendship…”

“I miss us too,” she admitted sadly.

“I started thinking,” he continued, his eyes never leaving her, “thinking about you and me, all the years we've known each other. I just sat in my study, with the lights off and the doors locked, remembering how many times you saved me at Hogwarts, how many times you helped me, looked after me. How you alone stood by me when no-one else did, not even Ron.

“And then I remembered the night in the tent, a night I had told myself that I'd never forget - do you remember when I'm talking about, Hermione? Just before Ron came back?”

“Yes.”

“You made a promise to me, to help people remember the good things about me if I didn't make it through,” he told her gently, “and that you'd only remember me with a smile. You got so upset that I'd even consider the thought that I'd die, and you were so certain I wouldn't. I should've known you'd be right, you so often are…”

“Harry…”

“The more I thought about that night,” he carried on, ignoring her weak attempt at an interruption, “the more I remembered, something clicked in my brain. I couldn't believe I hadn't worked it out sooner because if I had, we wouldn't be in the mess we are now…”

“Please…”

“The memories, the thoughts of everything that has happened since then just confirmed what I finally let myself admit these last few years. That the love I feel for you isn't platonic, isn't the love a brother feels for a sister. It's real and it's true and it's stronger than anything I've felt for Ginny…”

“Don't do this…”

“But I need to know something, Hermione,” he pleaded, standing right in front of her, wanting desperately to reach out and wipe her tears away but knowing it would be too much, “and I need you to tell me the truth. Have you ever been in love with me?”

“You know I can't answer that!” she cried, moving away from him to the other side of the table.

“Yes, you can,” he said, turning so he could continue to watch her.

“No, I can't,” she hissed, “there are too many…anything I say will hurt too many people!”

“Don't you think the lives we're living are already hurting the people we love?” Harry pressed on, “I know James and Albie realise that Ginny and I aren't in love anymore and I get the feeling Rose…”

“You leave my daughter out of this!”

“She knows, Hermione,” he told her gently, “I've seen her watching us with an understanding. She's very smart, that girl, just like her mother.”

“It doesn't matter!” she nearly screamed, “don't you get it, Harry? It doesn't matter! Even if you left Ginny and I left Ron, we could never be together - our families, our lives are too intertwined! Our children would lose their grandparents! They would be mocked, ridiculed, by everyone - I will not let that happen!”

“Do you think I want that?” he replied, his voice still calm, “I don't, I really don't. But I can't go on living this lie, being in a marriage which has no love in it anymore. Ginny and I are through, it's time to move on…”

“So you thought you'd come over here and see if I'm willing to take Ginny's place?” she scoffed, angry.

“No, of course not,” he said, slightly hurt, “I love you…”

“Why couldn't you have come to that conclusion sooner!” she yelled, tears running down her face, “why now? Why, after nearly twenty-seven years of knowing me, you finally realise that you love me? It makes no sense! Actually, it makes perfect sense - you've fallen out of love with your wife so you tell yourself that I'm the next best thing…”

“Hermione…”

“No, Harry, no,” she growled, “you asked me have I ever been in love with you and the answer is yes, I have - since fourth year, actually. The trouble is, I've never fallen out of love with you, do you understand that? You have always been the most important man in my life, always. But you didn't want me so I made myself love Ron, your best friend. He's given me a good life and two beautiful children and I'm not going to leave him just because you've finally realised something I knew twenty-four years ago.

“So instead I'll keep on loving you, like I have done for so long I don't know any different, and pretend to love my husband just as much. And you? You can sort your own shit out because I really can't deal with it.

“Now, I think you should leave my home and not come back. If you really love me, like you say you do, then you'll respect my wishes. Seeing you just make things so much more difficult.”

“I'm sorry,” he began, but she cut him off.

“Don't be sorry, Harry,” she snapped, “just do the right thing and leave me alone.”

Harry looked at her and with a sinking heart, realised the mess he'd just made. Nodding, he turned and made his way back to the door, feeling her watching him. Just as he was about to leave, he heard her call out his name. Turning, he looked at her.

“You know that night in the tent? The night I made those promises to you?” He nodded once more and she continued, “I lied.”

“Lied?”

“I told you I couldn't be like you, that I couldn't hide my emotions away like you did. That was a lie - I'm more like you than I care to admit. In fact, I've become so good at hiding how I feel about you, I no longer know if it's real or not.”

With that, Hermione turned on her heel and left him standing there with one hand on the doorknob, ready to go. Fighting back tears, he turned the knob and then left.

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3. Chapter Three

A/N - thanks for your reviews, I've actually answered them this time (yay to me!) Now, those you thought the last chapter was angsty (which was most of you), it doesn't get any better in this one. Still, it's a short little chapter so you won't stay miserable for long. Enjoy.

Chapter 3

Harry entered the mausoleum that was his house feeling as if his soul had been reached out from inside of him and destroyed - which, in his mind, had happened. He had found out what he wanted, but at a terrible price.

He made his way to his study, locked the door, sat on the leather armchair that faced his desk, put his head in his hands, and cried.

How could I be so stupid? he thought bitterly, how could I, firstly, not realise that Hermione had loved me for so long, secondly, not realise how perfect she was for me and lastly think that confronting her to find the truth would make every thing right?

“Because I'm an idiot,” he told himself and the darkness, harshly wiping the tears off his face and making his way to his office chair, swinging it around so he could look out of his window and into the newly forming night.

He knew Ginny would know he was home - a clock that was a lot like her mother's hung in the kitchen - but the idea of speaking to her right now wasn't that appealing. He needed a bit more time to recover from the fiasco with Hermione.

He needed to find strength to finish what he started.

Running a hand through his hair, he sighed deeply. What a mess.

“Daddy?”

Harry's head wiped around and faced the door as he heard his little girl tap on it and call out to him.

“Daddy, are you in there?”

“Yes, sweetie,” he answered, hiding any remaining feelings away from his daughter's ears, “I'm here.”

“Mummy wants to know if you're coming down for dinner?”

Sighing again, Harry took a deep breath, made sure any signs of tears were well and truly gone, made his way over to the door and opened it to see Lily waiting there for him.

“I sure am,” he smiled, draping his arm over her shoulder and walking with her down the stairs. He tried to listen as his daughter told him of her day, but tales of shopping with Ginny failed to penetrate the turmoil in his mind.

He continued to try and concentrate when he sat down with Ginny and Lily to eat the meal his wife had prepared, but with little success. He could tell Ginny knew something was wrong, but Harry wasn't going to do or say anything until Lily was in bed.

It was nearly four hours later that it was only Ginny and himself, Lily finally leaving them after a couple of hours of television watching. After minutes of sitting in silence, watching a programme without really seeing it, Harry began psyching himself up to end his marriage.

“Oh, I forgot to tell you,” Ginny suddenly piped up, her voice purposefully casual, “Stuart Piper popped over this afternoon.”

“Piper?” Harry repeated with little enthusiasm, knowing already why his boss paid him a visit, “what did he want that couldn't wait until Monday?”

“He wanted to ask us over for dinner in person,” Ginny continued, barely controlling her excitement, “this Saturday. I said we'd be over at seven.”

“Well, you can floo him and cancel,” Harry told her sternly.

“I will do no such thing,” Ginny retorted, turning to him, “Harry, he's going to offer you the Head Auror position! Tell us of his retirement! This is what you've been working so hard for, we have to go!”

“We don't have to do anything,” Harry snapped back, “Dean is here for only one week and Saturday is the only day we can all get together. I've already planned to go to that, and so were you, and I'm not cancelling because you felt something better has come along.”

“Dean and the others will understand,” she carried on, her anger just simmering under the surface, “this is your career - Head Auror, Harry! The youngest ever!”

“I don't care,” he shrugged, “there are other's better qualified than me for the job, I don't deserve it and even if he does offer the position to me, I'll probably turn it down…”

“What! Are you mental?” she nearly screamed, “this job is yours! You're the one that got rid of He-Who-Shouldn't-Be-Named…”

“Voldemort, Ginny,” Harry sighed, “it's been nearly twenty years, you can say his name now…”

“I don't bloody care!” she spat, “you will accept this job!”

“No, I won't.”

“What is your problem?”

“I can't keep doing this,” he sighed again.

“Do what?” she asked, confused by his answer.

“This,” he repeated, “you and me.”

“Of course you can,” she challenged quickly, “it's what's supposed to be. You're just tired from spending the day in public and with Ron and Hugo. That boy is a handful in anyone's books - I don't remember James or Albus causing quite as much havoc…”

“I didn't spend the day with Ron and Hugo,” Harry said, silently amazed how Ginny had so easily switched from having a go at him and his lack of desire to further his career to justifying their marriage.

“Didn't?”

“Spend the day with Ron and Hugo,” he stated then waited for the end to start.

“Really?” she questioned, frowning deeply, “I thought you were the one that organised it.”

“I suggested the Quidditch open day but I never had any intention of going.”

“I don't understand,” she frowned, “the clock said you were out visiting - if you weren't with Ron, where were you?”

“I went to see Hermione.”

The reaction was instantaneous - Ginny's eyes hardened as she glared at Harry.

“You got Ron and Hugo out of the way so you could see Hermione alone,” she summarised, “how could you do that?”

“I knew she'd be hurting after Rose left and I wanted to make sure she was okay…”

“That's Ron's job,” Ginny interrupted, “not yours.”

“Yeah, well, I don't think Ron does a particularly good job of it…”

“How many times do we have to have this conversation, Harry?” Ginny cut in, “how many times do I have to remind you that your relationship, your obsession with Hermione, has to stop. I warned you! I warned you after last time, that I wasn't going to put up with this…”

“Last time?” Harry shot back, finally getting angry, “bloody hell, Ginny - there was no `last time'! We are friends and that's all we've ever been!”

Until now, he added in his mind, a twinge of guilt seeping through him.

“Just friends don't act like you two do,” she spat, “you and Hermione have never been and will never be just friends.”

“Well, we are,” Harry growled, standing up and striding towards the door.

“Don't you dare walk away from me, Harry Potter!” Ginny shouted at him, stopping him in his tracks, “you can't just drop this bombshell and walk away!”

“Why not?” he yelled, turning back to her, “it's not like we'll discuss this in a civilised fashion! As you said, we've had this conversation many times before and it always turns out the same! You yell and accuse me of having an affair, I swear black and blue that I haven't and then you impose some pathetic conditions on me that I stupidly follow because for some reason I think our relationship is worth trying to save. But not this time, Ginny. This time I've had it, I've had enough.”

“So that's it?” she hissed, “fifteen years of marriage is over? I don't think so.”

“You know something?” Harry nearly snarled, “I don't really care what you think anymore. I've bent over backwards to make you happy and still you want more. I didn't even want to be an Auror but you convinced me to be one and now you're pushing me into Head Auror? No way, not this time. This time I'm doing something for me, for my happiness.”

“What about your children, have you thought about them?”

“Of course I have,” he glowered, “and it's only because of them that I'm still here. You and I are over, Ginny - we've been over for a long time.”

“We're not over until I say we're over,” she spat as she stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind her.

Harry sighed heavily, went back to his chair and fell down into it. His marriage had ended, as far as he was concerned, but he knew Ginny wouldn't give it up without a fight. His main concern was his kids - there was no way he would start something that would hurt them and that he'd have to make his next steps with caution.

He also knew that the Weasley's will support Ginny, as they should, when push came to shove which would mean in one day Harry had lost everything - Hermione, Ron, his children and his family.

For the second time that day, Harry felt tears roll down his face - large, silent tears - but he barely noticed them as he sat and stared at the television that was still relentlessly blaring on. He had no idea what was on, his brain consumed with the mess that was his life.

It was supposed to be better, he thought to himself with a touch of bitterness, I was supposed to live happy ever after. I was the bloody hero! Instead I have nothing. Instead my life is as miserable as it ever was with the Dursley's.

How long he sat there, he didn't know. All he knew that when he finally made his way up to his room he had decided that it had to get better, that he could sort everything out.

That it couldn't get any worse.

A/N 2 - sorry it's so short, but I had to cut it there otherwise the next chapter would be too long. Anyway, you'll get chapter 4 in a few days

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4. Chapter 4

A/N - some of you will like this chapter, others won't, but I thought this would be the only way of a Harry/Hermione ending. More angst, I'm afraid…

Chapter 4

Harry couldn't help but watch her, looking for any sign at all that she wasn't coping, that she needed him. It was at a distance, of course, and as discretely as he could - it was the last possible place to cause a scene.

Every now and then he'd see Ginny talking to some family member, her red hair stark against her black dress, her smile tight and forced.

And then every now and then Harry would remember he was at a wake and the now familiar wave of sadness and guilt would wash over him, making him slink even further back into the shadows.

He still couldn't believe Ron was dead.

Yet Ron was and now Hermione was a widow and Harry was ready to be there for her if she needed him. But in all sense and purposes, she was coping. Scarily well. Which is why he kept watching her because he knew her and knew that deep down she was breaking.

“Uncle Harry?”

Slightly startled at the sound of his name, Harry blinked and saw Rose, Albus and James standing in front of him, looking at him seriously.

“Rosie, sweetheart,” Harry greeted, draping his arm over her shoulder and pulling her into a gentle hug, “how're you doing?”

“As good as to be expected, I guess,” she answered softly, “though I hate this. I didn't think they'd be so many people here.”

“I know,” Harry agreed, glancing at his two sons who were quietly watching.

“Dad,” James began, his eyes darting firstly to Rose and then Albus for confirmation before continuing, “can we have a word?”

“Of course,” Harry quickly said, frowning at the seriousness of James' voice. Rose took Harry's hand and led him out of the crowded lounge, up the stairs and into her room, James and Albus following, Albus closing the door when they were all inside. The three then lined up, Rose between the two boys in such a way that it reminded Harry of his own childhood and how now, that trio is no longer.

“What it is it?” he asked urgently, “what's wrong?”

Rose looked at her cousins before taking a deep breath and turning back to her uncle.

“I'm worried about mum,” she told him, her eyes starting to well with tears, “and I don't know what to do.”

“Rosie told us that her mum hasn't cried or anything,” James added, “that she's just looked after everyone else and made sure everything was done for…you know, the funeral…”

“And we've been watching Aunt H,” Albus added, taking Rose's hand in his in comfort, “she's not the same, dad. It's like she's a robot or something.”

“Mum's made sure that Hugo and I are alright,” Rose continued, tears now rolling down her face, “and when I ask her about how she's doing, she just tells me she's fine and not to worry. But I am worried, Uncle Harry! She's keeping everything deep inside and…and one day…I can't lose her too!”

With a sob, she turned into Albus, who held her while she cried into his shoulder, trying hard not to cry himself.

“We've thought about what we could do,” James carried on explaining, “and we thought that really, the only person who could help Aunt Hermione, is you. You've known her for ever, you're her best friend and know her better than anyone else…”

“I've seen how you look at her, Uncle Harry,” Rose said strongly, once more looking at him, “I've seen how you care for her. When we were younger, I remember how really it was you that made my mum truly smile.”

“We know you and Aunt H have a special relationship dad,” Albus put in and a spike of fear went through Harry.

“And we know that mum doesn't understand it, which is why you and Aunt Hermione stopped hanging around together,” James added.

“But mum is only really happy when she's with you,” Rose stated matter-of-factly, “and I think you're only really happy when you're with her…”

“Rosie…” Harry began, ready to explain.

“It's okay, dad,” James cut in, “we've talked about it and we understand. You and Aunt Hermione would never do anything to hurt us so we don't believe for a minute that you guys had an affair.”

“James!” Harry exclaimed, surprised that his thirteen year old son could speak of the subject so casually.

“What?” he asked with a hint of a frown, “it's not like we're stupid…”

“Or deaf,” Albus added.

“…right, or deaf,” James agreed with his brother, “mum kept having a go about how much time you spent with Aunt Hermione and suddenly you stopped. It wasn't right. And now she needs you.”

“You're the only one who can help her, Uncle Harry,” Rose said, “you're the only one who can bring her back.”

Harry looked at the three children - James looking so much like a shorter, squatter Ron it hurt; Albus, a smaller version of himself while Rose was the splitting image of a young Hermione. The two younger kids had a bond that sometimes scared him, Albus and Rose inseparable throughout their childhood and even more so now they were at Hogwarts. And James, the strong, quiet protector of his brother, sister and cousins. He couldn't be more prouder of them than he was right at this moment.

Guilt suddenly hit Harry like a bludger - he was being asked by an eleven year old girl to help her mother, but he wasn't sure he could. He and Hermione hadn't spoken since his visit nearly two months ago (he didn't count when he came with his head of department to tell her Ron was dead - even then, she accepted the news with calmness and turned his offer down when he asked if she wanted him to stay) and his relationship with Ginny was on the verge into exploding into something extremely painful.

The three in front of him must of seen his hesitation as an indication of him declining their request as they all started talking.

“Please, Uncle Harry,” pleaded Rose, taking a step closer.

“We know something's going on with you and mum,” James admitted, coming next to Rose, “Lily's told us that you two have been fighting a lot more than usual…”

“…and we know that you and Aunt H aren't getting on,” Albus added, also coming forward, “because Hugo told Rose that you've hardly visited since we've been at school…'

“…but Albus and I will deal with mum,” James continued, “and whatever happened between you and Aunt Hermione doesn't matter now. She needs you, dad.”

Harry looked at the three of them again and knew they were right.

“You lot seem like you've got this all planned,” he smiled briefly, “what would you like me to do?”

The three exchanged quick looks before Rose nodded to the others and came that little bit closer to Harry.

“When everyone leaves, stay,” she told him strongly, “stay until you get her to talk.”

“Rose and Hugo will come and stay with us,” James also advised, “so you won't have to worry about anything but Aunt Hermione.”

“Okay,” he agreed to which he found himself being hugged madly by his niece. After a few moments, he pulled back from her so he could look at her, noting that her eyes were once again swimming with tears, “your mother is a strong woman, Rosie. The strongest I've ever known.”

“I know,” the young girl sob quietly, “but this time, I don't think that strength goes all the way through.”

Harry pulled back suddenly as the memory of another conversation from a life-time ago struck him - a conversation he only remembered just recently. Regaining his composure, he returned to the wake with the kids and waited until the last of the guests left. James, Albus and Rose were true to their word, doing enough to distract Ginny away from him and made it so there was only Harry and Hermione.

Picking up some of the used plates, cups and saucers that had been left on the table, he made his way into the kitchen where Hermione was methodically putting things away.

“Here you go,” he offered, freezing when she jumped in shock at the sound of his voice. She turned to him, her hand covering her heart, telling him that he had startled her. He put his dishes on the counter, as he apologised.

“I thought you'd gone with Ginny and the children,” she told him briskly, quickly turning back to the dishes, “you don't need to be here.”

“I want to help…” he started but was cut off.

“I'm fine,” she interrupted, “I don't need your help.”

“Don't lie to me Hermione.”

She paused with what she is doing, but didn't turn around. Harry just waited.

“What do you want?” she finally asked, her voice tight.

“I want to help you,” he replied firmly, watching her every move, “I want to be your friend, be there for you…”

“I thought we ascertained that you and I were no longer friends,” she spat, turning to look at him, her face hard, “and nothing you could do would help me.”

She pushed by him as she left the kitchen and went back out into the lounge, gathering the remaining discarded plates as she circuited the room. Harry followed her with his eyes as he watched from the door jam.

“I'm worried about you,” he ventured.

“Don't be,” she growled, “I'm fine.”

“Rosie doesn't think so.”

Hermione stopped and looked up at Harry in horror, her toughness disappearing in a heartbeat.

“Rosie?” she repeated, softly. Harry walked over to her and gently ran his hands down each of her arms.

“She came to see me,” Harry explained, “her, Al and James. She's scared she's going to lose you too.”

“Oh, my poor baby girl,” Hermione gasped as she sunk down onto the couch. Harry took the dirty plates that she still had out of her hands, put them on the table then sat down next to her.

“Hermione,” Harry carried on soothingly, “talk to me, please. Let me in…”

“I can't,” she breathed, her eyes staring at their entwined hands.

“Why?”

“Because if I start, if I let myself feel, then I'd hate myself even more than I already do.”

Harry closed his eyes with weary realisation, the truth was now beginning to be exposed.

“It wasn't your fault…” he began and she looked up at him with anger in her eyes.

“Wasn't it?” she fired at him, “do you know what happened the night before he went on that stupid mission?” Harry shook his head, no. “We had a row. Not just a normal row but an almighty shouting match. Do you know what about?” He had an idea, but stayed silent and let her continue. “About you, Harry. About how you were going to get the Head Auror position and how unfair it was because you both started at the same time. About how you always got everything and he had nothing. About how you were ruining his sister's life and breaking his family apart. And when I stood up for you, he accused me of betraying him, that I'd always put you over him.”

“I'm sorry…”

“How could you let him go on that stupid mission, Harry!” she yelled at him, standing up so she could scowl down on him, “he wasn't ready for that! He was ill-prepared! He shouldn't have gone!”

“Don't you think I know that?” Harry growled back at her, also standing so they were once again face to face, “don't you think that a day doesn't go by that I don't feel the guilt about sending my best friend to his death?”

“Why did you then?” she screamed, “why did you let him go!”

“Because he didn't give me a choice!” he fired back, “Ron stormed in on Monday and started having a go at me! Blaming me for everything that was wrong in his life and having a go about being promoted in front of him! I told him to pull his head in and think about what he was saying and that I had no intention of being Head Auror…” Hermione looked taken aback, but Harry just carried on, “when Smith came in about the mission, Ron put his hand up straight away. I told him and Smith that he wasn't suited, but he argued and argued until Smith said he was fine with Ron going as part of the team. He went to spite me, to prove that he was just as capable as I was. And it cost him his life.”

“You should've stopped him,” Hermione said, no longer angry, just miserable.

“I know.”

“I shouldn't have let him leave mad,” she added, the first tears starting to fall.

“It wasn't your fault, Hermione.”

“Yes it was,” she sobbed, “this whole mess is my fault. I should've been stronger. I should never have let myself fall in love with the both of you.”

“What happened to Ron,” Harry began, pulling her to her and engulfing her in his embrace, feeling the wetness of her tears on his shoulder, “had nothing to do with you. It was me he was jealous of and I did little to stop that. He was my best friend but sometimes he made me so mad when he couldn't see that what he had was much more precious, much better than anything I'd ever had.”

“You were happy though, weren't you?” Hermione asked, pulling away so she could look up at him, “you have the family you always wanted…”

“Yeah, I do,” he agreed, leading her back to the couch where they both sat down, “and I was happy. At first. My kids are my life, Hermione, but everything else is an illusion, a lie.”

“How did it all go so wrong?” she whispered, pulling away from him and hugging her knees to her chest.

“Because I was too stupid to realise what I wanted, what I needed had been beside me from the beginning.”

Hermione didn't say anything, the sound of her soft sniffing the only thing breaking the silence. Harry was lost in his own thoughts, realising that their admissions of guilt made the reality of what happened to Ron even more painful. The thing was, Harry knew that it wasn't Hermione's fault and he also knew that she would be thinking the same thing - that it wasn't Harry's fault either.

“What happens now?”

Her voice brought him back and he looked across the couch at her - hunched over, her eyes red with tears, their trails coating her cheeks. She was pale and there was a hollowness that hadn't been there before Ron's death making Harry wonder just how much she'd eaten over the past few weeks.

She was watching him, waiting for him to lead her once more, like he'd done so often in the past. She was counting on him.

“We grieve,” he told her, unwrapping her arms from her legs so he could hold her hands, “we learn to forgive and we carry on.”

“I don't know if I can,” she admitted softly.

“I'll help you,” he carried on, but before he could say anything else, she spoke.

“I wanted him to die, Harry,” she choked out, a huge sob engulfing her.

“What?” he asked, not sure that he heard her correctly.

“I couldn't leave him,” she whispered, “I couldn't do that to him. I'm not strong enough, not like you. But I wanted an end, I wanted to get out of it and after we fought, I…I wished he'd die…”

“Oh, Hermione…”

“When…when you came to tell me what happened, that was the first thing that went through my head. I wished that he'd die and he did…”

“You didn't kill him,” Harry soothed, once more bringing her to him as she wept, “you didn't kill him with a wish. Oh sweetie, believe me when I say that you didn't kill Ron.”

Hermione just cried harder, her shoulders shaking with the force of her sobs. She clung to Harry, her nails clawing into his back as she hid her face into his chest. He let her cry, his own tears silent as he rested his cheek on the top of her head, his own pain and guilt melding with hers.

After a while, her tears began to lessen though she stayed securely in his embrace. When he felt he was capable, Harry took a deep breath and began to speak.

“Do you remember when Dobby sealed the entranceway to Platform Nine and Three-quarters back in second year?” he said, his hand still absently stroking her hair, “when Ron suggested to take his dad's car, it seemed the most obvious thing to do. We got into so much trouble.”

Hermione let out a cross between a sniff and a snort, making Harry smile a small smile.

“And do you remember when he got his dress robes for the Yule Ball?” his question was un-answered so he carried on, “he thought it was a dress for Ginny. They were absolutely horrid, he was so embarrassed.”

“He hated everything about that night,” Hermione ventured, turning her face to the side so she could still speak but was still resting on Harry's chest, “the pillock. If he'd ask me first off, I would've fixed his robes for him.”

“Yeah, well, Ron wasn't that quick when it came to girls,” Harry told her, “then again, neither was I. I remember when he was getting ready for your first official date. After the war. He was so nervous.”

“He was so sweet,” she told him, “even got me flowers. I don't think I had ever seen his ears so red.”

Harry and Hermione kept remembering their fallen friend well into the night, each memory as rich and fun as the last. Soon tears became laughter and as one day turned into the next, Hermione finally fell asleep.

Harry sat there with her still in his arms, glad to feel the rhythmic rise and fall of her chest that indicated to him that she was truly asleep. He thought of her question, of what happens next and just before sleep took him, he realised he really didn't know.

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5. Chapter Five

A/N - right, here's the second to last chapter - a little one with a bit less angst than the last two. By this stage, the story was getting very hard to write but I was determined to finish. I hope you enjoy this and the last chapter will probably be posted in the weekend. Thank you all for sticking with me.

Chapter Five

The next morning, he woke to find Hermione wrapped up with him, slightly snoring and totally oblivious of their situation. Grinning slightly, he began to eradicate himself gently so not to wake her. When finally free, he made his way to the bathroom to freshen up before heading for the kitchen to prepare a breakfast that he was going to ensure get eaten.

He was so caught up with what he was doing, he didn't realise she was awake until she spoke from the doorway.

“Whatever you're cooking smells brilliant,” she said, making him turn to her and smile.

“That's good, because you are going to eat some, if not all, of it,” he told her, indicating she should sit down and be served. After he put out the array of different foods in front of her, he watched carefully as she picked and ate, satisfied that she did at least eat something close to a decent meal.

Afterwards, they tidied up and although it was done in silence and she kept her distance from him at all times, Harry could see that she was becoming herself once more.

There were a few more tears during the day as every now and then memories would hit her, but she ate a bit more at lunch and by dinner she ate nearly a full meal. That night, Harry slept in the spare room and tried to deal with his own emotions as it was the first time all day that he was on his own.

The following day went as much the same as the first but this time Rose and Hugo came home - bringing along with them Ginny, James, Albus and Lily. The Potter family stood by uncomfortably as Hermione greeted her children, ignoring the tension between Harry and Ginny though the two Potter boys felt it as they nervously glanced between their parents.

But Harry's attention moved from his wife to his friend as Hermione finally allowed herself to cry in front of Rose and Hugo. Kneeling beside her as she hugged her children, all of them now in tears, Harry put a comforting hand on her shoulder to let her know he was still there. Albus took his father's lead and did the same for Rose while Ginny, James and Lily watched on, Lily attached to Ginny's leg and hiding her tearstained face into her mother's stomach.

It was a while before the tears stopped and without even thinking, Hermione turned to Harry for a hug of comfort - which he returned easily.

“Thank you,” she whispered in his ear and he smiled.

“You're welcome,” he replied, looking at her blotchy, wet face and thinking, even now, she still looked so beautiful.

“Dad.”

James' voice startled him slightly and in an instant Hermione was on her feet, wiping her face free of the tears and hugging her children into her.

“Thank you, Ginny, for taking care of Rosie and Hugo,” she said as normally as she could, “I didn't even realise that they had been invited to stay.”

“It seems our children had it all planned,” Ginny replied politely but somewhat stiffly. Harry got to his feet.

“Oh,” Hermione continued, glancing down at Rose, who gave a sheepish smile back, “well, it was still short notice at a horrid time for you. I do appreciate your understanding.”

“Yes,” Ginny came back, this time looking directly at Harry, “it seems I'm extremely understanding.”

It was then that Harry noticed the bags behind his wife and the looks his two sons were passing between each other. Hermione saw the bags at the same time and with an knowing look at Harry, turned to leave, using the excuse of helping the children unpack to leave the Potter's alone to talk.

Rose insisted on them staying.

“James, Albus and I had a chat,” Ginny began, still hugging Lily to her while James and Albus stood in the gap between their parents, “it seems they realised a lot more than what I've given them credit for. They explained why they felt that you should stay here alone with Hermione even though there are so many reasons why you shouldn't have.”

“Ginny…”

“No, Harry, let me finish,” Ginny cut in, “the boys have helped me see what I have been fighting against, ignoring even, for as long as I've known you.”

“What's that?” Harry asked, his heart beating loud and fast as he guessed her answer.

“That you and Hermione have a special relationship that I can never match,” she replied, “and that even if I fought for you, even if I insist you see how much I love you and how perfect we are together, it would never work. Because you have her.”

“Nothing's happened…”

“I know,” Ginny sighed, “I know you and her haven't slept together, or even kissed inappropriately. But you still have her, Harry, and she has you.

“I'm not going to contest the divorce, Harry. I'm not going to fight you any more. I realise now the only people that's going to hurt are myself and the kids and I'm not going to do that to our children. In a few weeks, when the pain of losing my brother lessens a bit, we'll talk and sort everything out.

“I've…I've packed some of your stuff…”

“We thought you could perhaps stay here,” Rose quickly cut in, walking up to a stunned Harry and taking his hand, “in the spare room.”

“Oh Rosie,” Harry said, kneeling so he was at her eye level, “I'm not sure that is the best idea.”

“You're more than welcome,” Hermione ventured quietly and Harry looked up at her, Hugo at her side. He looked behind him at Ginny and she gave him a tiny smile.

“The consensus was that you moving in here would be the best thing,” she told him as James and Albus came to stand at her side.

“Then we can come and visit when we like…” Albus added excitedly.

“Well, not whenever we like,” James chided his brother, “they may be out or something. But it would make visiting easier, dad. A lot easier than if you go to some hotel or something.”

Harry's eyes moved from the faces of his sons, to the solemn face of his daughter. Standing, he ran his hand gently over Rosie's head as he passed her to stand in front of Lily. The little girl let go of her mother and looked at him, her hazel eyes swimming with tears.

“You've been quiet, Lily-bean,” he said gently, “what do you think about me shifting in here?”

“You will be taking care of Auntie Hermione and Rose and Hugo, I guess,” she whispered.

“Yes, I would.”

“But you're my daddy,” she continued, her tears beginning to fall, “and if you live here and not at home, then…then you'll be more their daddy than mine!”

“Oh, sweetheart,” Harry soothed, cuddling Lily in close as she hung around his neck and cried into his shoulder, “I will always be your daddy, always. Even when you're a teenager and I embarrass you in front of your friends and you wish I wasn't your dad, I will still be your daddy.”

“I'd never wish you weren't my dad,” she sobbed.

“And you will always be my little girl,” Harry told her, “I love you so much, Lily, and whatever happens between your mum and I, that will never change.”

Lily pulled back from him (and wiped her running nose on her sleeve) then turned over her shoulder and looked at her two brothers, then her mother. Harry stood as James came over and draped an arm over her shoulders and Lily focused on him.

“We'll always be a family, Lily-bean,” he told her seriously, “you, me, Albus and mum and dad. But mum and dad deserve to be happy and they aren't with each other anymore.”

“How do you know daddy will be happy with Auntie Hermione?” she asked.

“I don't,” James smiled, “no-one does. And just because dad's staying here, doesn't mean that they'll end up together. I mean, Albie goes and stays at Sarah's place sometimes and that doesn't mean that they're gonna get married now, does it?”

“I guess not,” Lily admitted, “but that's because Sarah thinks Albie loves Rosie…”

“Really?” James grinned, forgetting for a moment the original conversation.

“But…but that's mental!” Albus fumed, coming up to stand by James, “Rosie's my cousin!”

“Well, you have to admit,” Rosie added, standing next to Harry, “that Sarah isn't that bright.”

“Just because she isn't a walking encyclopaedia like you…”

Harry looked over the heads of the bickering children to his soon-to-be-ex-wife to find her looking back at him sadly.

I'm really sorry, Gin he mouthed at her and she nodded.

I know.

Just then he felt a tiny hand tug his, and looked down into the eyes of his daughter.

“Do you promise to always be my daddy?” she asked him, her brothers and cousins still talking adamantly around her.

“I promise with all my heart,” Harry told her.

“Then I guess I can share you with Rose and Hugo for a little while.”

Harry smiled and picked her up, kissing her loudly on the cheek.

“Thank you, Lily,” he said as he nuzzled her, making her giggle and squirm, insisting on being put back down.

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6. Chapter Six

A/N - this is the last chapter and I hope you enjoy it. Thanks for reading and thanks for those who have left reviews.

Chapter Six

“Lily, honey, you need to calm down,” Harry told his daughter for what seemed like the hundredth time since she had wrapped her arms around his waist in greeting ten minutes ago.

“But daddy, I'm going to Hogwarts!” Lily told him just as excitedly as before.

“She's been like this all week,” Ginny explained with a smile, “even with me removing as much sugar as I could from her diet.”

Harry smiled back then watched his little girl drag poor Hugo off to take a closer look at the train. It had been two years since he stood on this platform to see Albus off and so much had happened since then, so much had changed. He glanced at his ex-wife at his side, her eyes following Lily in case she got into trouble, and thought how lucky he was that she had been a part of his life - an important part of his life - and still was.

“Welcome back, Professor Potter.”

Startled from his thoughts, Harry acknowledged the seventh year Hufflepuff who had greeted him only to hear a snort from behind him. He turned to see James and Hermione walking their way.

“Everything okay?” he asked his son.

“I still can't believe they let you teach at school while we're still there,” James answered with a frown.

“Well, they do,” Harry said as he pulled James into a one armed hug, “it worked alright last year, didn't it?”

“I guess,” James grumbled, “let me go, dad. People are watching!”

With a chuckle, Harry removed his arm from the young man at his side (who was now nearly as tall as Harry himself) and turned to Hermione.

“Where's Albus and Rosie?” he asked her, taking her hand as she came to his side.

“Finding their friends,” she replied, “hey Ginny.”

“Hi Hermione,” Ginny welcomed back, and Harry let the two women in his life chat.

Nothing had happened between himself and Hermione for many months. After his divorce from Ginny, he stayed in the Weasley home but in his own room and everything remained extremely platonic while both of them sorted themselves out.

Hermione went back to work for the first time since Rosie had been born. She got a job in the Ministry in the Legal Division and once more became a force to be reckoned with on any case she became involved in.

Harry quit being an Auror. He was offered the job as Head Auror, but turned it down and then walked away all together. He realised it really wasn't what he wanted to do and even though he knew he was very good at the role, he had had enough of the danger and the lifestyle. For a while he stayed home and looked after Lily and Hugo but was then offered the role of Defence of the Dark Arts professor at Hogwarts. After talking it over with the kids, he accepted the job and was soon to start his second year teaching.

He loved it.

And he loved Hermione, with all his heart. It wasn't until he got the job at Hogwarts and the discussion came up whether he should live at the castle or not did things finally move pass the `purely platonic'. Their first time together was raw and passionate as they practically attacked each other after a rather heated debate on where Harry should live. But since then, they spent time exploring each other and finding out the last secrets that they had hidden from each other for so long.

The children took the change in the relationship with relative ease - James and Albus thinking it was all rather gross, Rose thinking it was romantic (and about time) while Lily and Hugo didn't care either way. Ginny and the other Weasley's also accepted the developments with an understanding of `family.' It helped that Ginny had already moved on and was dating a fellow from her new job.

“Harry?”

Once again, Harry was brought out of his thoughts, this time by a gentle hand on his arm and a soft voice in his ear. Blinking, he looked down into the worried eyes of his…everything.

“I love you,” he whispered, quiet enough that only she could hear.

“I love you too,” Hermione whispered back, smiling, “are you alright?”

“I'm fine. Just thinking,” he replied, kissing her chastely on the mouth.

“Ooh, yuck!” Albus exclaimed as he and Rose walked up, “can you two stop doing that kind of stuff?”

“Shut up, Albus,” Rose humped, sounding a lot like her mother, “honestly, they're just kissing. I think it's romantic!”

“Well, I just think it's disgusting,” Albus continued with a scowl.

“Just wait, little brother,” James piped in, “you won't think it's disgusting when you finally get the courage to snog Sarah!”

James' comment caused mayhem as Albus tried to get to his brother while Rose burst into laughter and the adults chuckled while pretending to regain order. When Lily and Hugo returned, telling them the train was about to go, the mayhem turned into chaos as everyone tried to get onto the train.

James said his good-byes first, quickly heading up to the prefect carriage, his badge pinned proudly to his chest. Albus and Rose tried to go next but were halted as they were reminded to take their younger siblings.

Harry, Hermione and Ginny were left on the platform, waving until they could no longer see the train. Arm in arm, Harry and Hermione turned to Ginny.

“So, we'll see you at Christmas?” Hermione asked.

“I still can't believe you're going to have a winter wedding,” Ginny smiled, “but yes, of course I'll be there. It's not every day you see your ex-husband marry your sister-in-law.” Giving both Harry and Hermione a good-bye peck on the cheek, Ginny left them alone for the first time for quite a while.

With a contented grin, Harry looked down at Hermione, ready to leave the platform and head home, wanting to make the most of the time he had with her until he needed to head to Hogwarts for the first school dinner of the year. He found her staring absently at where the train had gone, her eyes glistening with a light film of tears.

“Hugo will be fine, love,” he soothed, pulling her into a gentle hug.

“Oh, I know,” she replied, pulling him closer, “it's just that, he's my baby and now he's gone. Plus, he's more like Ron than just his looks - he feels like he's already in James, Albus and Rose's shadows. I just hope his insecurities don't mess him up like they did…”

“I'll keep an eye on him.”

“You can't favour him, Harry,” she countered with a frown.

“And I won't,” he assured, “I promise. Just encourage him when he needs encouragement, like I do all the other students. He'll be fine. Come on, let's go home.”

“Actually, can we grab a coffee or something?” Hermione asked, turning with Harry towards the exit, “I need to talk to you about something.”

“What is it?” he immediately questioned, his curiosity piqued.

“No, I want talk to you properly,” she told him as she made her way through the gateway into Muggle King's Cross.

“You're talking to me properly now,” he said as followed her and was once more at her side.

“Harry!” she admonished and continued to do so every time Harry asked her what it was about during the short trip to a local café.

It wasn't until they were seated, their drinks in front of them, that Hermione let him know what was on her mind. By this time, Harry was getting a bit worried - he has learnt to dread the words `we need to talk' (as did many men). He thought everything was going well, that Hermione was happy - he knew he was. Suddenly he felt a slither of fear that soon everything was going to go horribly wrong.

“Well,” she started, looking nervously at him, “I was talking to the girls at the office,” the girls being women aged from early thirties to sixty-four and the office being where wizarding law began and formulated and then debated by some of the smartest witches and wizards in Britain, “and we were discussing the pile of trash that had been printed about us in `Witches Weekly', and how there were so many untruths about us, well, you really, out there,” which there were - though not as many stories as when Harry and Ginny's divorce was discovered or when it was leaked that Harry was living with Hermione. The press had them on their front pages for months.

“And?” Harry prompted when she paused to have a long sip of her coffee.

“Um, well, Clare said that I should write a book, get the real truth out there,” she continued, “and the others all agreed. I said no, initially, but I've been thinking about it,” she paused again and looked at Harry with a soft half smile on her face, “do you remember that night, in the tent…”

“Of course I do,” Harry smiled back, taking her hand from her cup of tea and holding it gently, “remembering that night made me realise just how much I love you.”

“I know,” Hermione said wistfully, giving Harry's hand an affectionate squeeze, “took you a while, but you got there in the end.”

“Yes I did,” he chuckled before adding seriously, “and I also remember that I asked you to tell my story truthfully if I didn't make it - that's what you're thinking of now, isn't it?”

“Anything I write would pass by you first, Harry,” she told him enthusiastically, “and if you say no, I won't do it…”

“Yes,” he cut in, stopping her in her tracks.

“Yes?”

“Yes,” he repeated, “I think it would brilliant if you wrote our story -yours, mine and Ron's.”

“You do?”

“Why are you so surprised?” he asked her as he leant over and gently ran his thumb down the side of her face, “you know me better than anyone else and you know my story better than anyone else. You would let the people know the truth, that I'm not perfect, that I'm actually human and make mistakes just like everyone else. You would tell my life like it actually is…”

“And leave out all the rest,” she interrupted, taking his hand and kissing its' palm.

“Right,” he agreed, thinking how incredibly lucky he was to have met this woman a lifetime ago and that she alone was still by his side, “and leave out all the rest.”

A/N2 - well, there you go. Not one of my best, but the idea felt good when I first thought of it, and then by the time I finished it had turned into a bit of a chore. But I was determined to finish before I started the next one, and finish I did! Thank you for all of those faithful that have stuck with me, it's great seeing regular names. And the comments are generally nice and truthful. I don't think I'll write a canon fiction (that includes the epilogue) again - it's just so difficult! You either have to kill the Weasley's off, have horrible divorces or it's an affair…sigh.

Anyway, until next time - thanks for reading.

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