A/N: Hello again! I know it's been a very, very long time since I updated this story, and I apologize because I know that a lot of my readers were pretty invested in its outcome. I actually had this chapter prepared for a while, but I was waiting to finish the next one or two before I published this one. Since it doesn't seem like those next chapters will be written anytime in the near future, I decided to just go ahead and post this one. I think that it, at least, offers a bit more closure than the last chapter!
Enjoy!
~*~
Emma Granger was worried about her daughter.
Nothing had really happened that could have made her worry, but she couldn't help being a little concerned when she noticed Hermione glancing out the living room window every few minutes, as though she had developed a nervous tic. The two of them were seated on the living room couch with Hogwarts: A History spread across both laps, working through a section about various tapestries that hung on the walls of Hogwarts School. Usually, Emma was treated to many frightening and fascinating stories about the castle when she read with her daughter, but Hermione had not offered to elaborate on anything that the two of them had seen so far. That was no reason to fret, of course; it was perfectly possible that she just didn't have any stories to share. But Emma found herself worrying about her daughter anyway. It was unusual for Hermione to be so quiet and jumpy, especially while she read, and especially while she read Hogwarts: A History.
To add to her concern, Emma had noticed, when she had gotten out of bed to get a glass of water, that Hermione had been pacing around her room at the earliest hours of the morning. She hadn't asked her daughter about it, knowing that she would only get a "Nothing's wrong" or a "Don't worry" as a response, but she had lain awake for a good two or three hours listening to the steady creak of floorboards in Hermione's room. This was highly atypical; Hermione had never had any trouble sleeping before.
Lost in thought and worry, Emma didn't notice when Hermione closed the large book and stood up from the couch. She only realized that her daughter had moved when she heard her voice.
"I'd read more with you, Mum," said Hermione, sounding a little agitated, "but I've got a letter to write…"
"Go ahead, dear," said Emma, coming out of her reverie. As Hermione hurried up the stairs, Emma became more concerned. Hermione didn't usually lie to her either, but she knew that her daughter had no reason to be writing any letters. She had followed Hermione into her room earlier, when the two of them had gone to retrieve the book, and the little owl that Harry had sent on Christmas Eve had been nowhere to be seen.
Anxious and curious, Emma got up from the couch and looked out the window, trying to see what it was that had kept Hermione's attention for so long. There was nothing there; just the normal view of a neighbour's house. Emma looked left, right and up, but didn't see anything out of the ordinary. Just an empty street and a clear sky, which had turned a deep shade of pink as the sun started to set. She shrugged and, still concerned, made her way up the stairs, taking great care to be quiet as she stopped outside Hermione's door. It was slightly ajar, and Emma, in a fit of curiosity, pressed herself to the wall beside it and gently nudged it with her foot, causing it to swing open slowly. Suddenly, the hinges let out a shrill squeak, making her cringe. She heard a noise as Hermione jumped a little, startled, but her daughter didn't seem to notice or care that the door had been pushed open.
Edging away from the wall, Emma peeked into the room through the newly widened space between the door and the frame, and saw nothing out of the ordinary. Hermione was sitting at her desk, but was not writing the letter that she had used as an excuse to hurry upstairs. She was merely staring out the window at the setting sun. Not normal for Hermione, maybe, but not exactly a cause for concern either.
Emma was about to shrug and turn away when Hermione suddenly stood up and leaned over her desk, as though she was trying to see something in the distance through her window. Emma looked as well, but the angle from the door to the window kept her from seeing what Hermione could. She could, however, see Hermione reach for the windowsill and jerk the window open, moments before something small and feathery came flying into her room. Emma recognized it as the little owl that her daughter had received as a Christmas present.
"Hello, Sirius," Hermione said softly, patting the owl's brown, feathery head as it perched on her shoulder. She then proceeded to hold a hand in front of 'Sirius', seemingly by force of habit, probably expecting the bird to give her a letter. No such letter appeared.
"Haven't you got something to give me?" asked Hermione, looking puzzled. "Harry wouldn't just send you back here without anything…"
"I didn't," a male voice whispered. Emma and Hermione both jumped. No one but Hermione and Sirius was in her bedroom.
Emma watched as Hermione blinked, her eyes wide, and whispered, "Harry?"
"Yeah," the voice whispered back.
"What the bloody hell-?"
The voice chuckled, interrupting her. "Turn around, silly."
Hermione did, facing the one wall that Emma could not see. She could, however, see her daughter jump again and cover her mouth with one hand, stifling a yelp of surprise. A moment later, a familiar young man entered Emma's field of vision. He was smiling, and appeared to be holding a broomstick in one hand and a bouquet of roses in the other. He was also dressed strangely, in some sort of heavy black robe with a magpie on the back.
"Happy Valentine's Day," he said, his voice still hushed, holding the roses out for Hermione to take. She did, almost robotically, still looking stunned.
"Where did you-? How did you-?" she stammered, equally quietly.
Harry smiled, appearing to understand. "I put my Cloak on and let Sirius lead me here," he said, gesturing to the tiny owl on Hermione's shoulder, "and I Apparated in once I could see where I was going."
Hermione nodded slowly, seeming to let that sink in. "Did you win?"
It was Harry's turn to look confused. "Sorry?"
"You're still in your Quidditch robes. Did you win?"
"Oh, right," said Harry, looking down at himself. "Right. Yeah, we won."
Hermione seemed to be recovering from the shock of seeing Harry for the first time in months. "Due to a certain Seeker, no doubt?"
"Well," said Harry, blushing a bit, "the rest of the team worked hard as well."
Hermione smiled. She turned around and set the roses carefully on her desk, paused for a moment, then, suddenly, she threw her arms around Harry's neck and hugged him with such force that she nearly knocked him over. He smiled and wrapped his arms around her as well, still keeping a hold on the broomstick.
"I was waiting for that," he said, kissing her forehead.
"Oh, Harry," she said, her already hushed voice muffled by his robes, "you're here. You're really here."
"Yes, love, I'm here," he said, using his free hand to gently comb through her curls with his fingers. The two stayed like that for a moment or two, before Hermione suddenly pulled away from Harry and clapped both hands over her mouth, her eyes wide.
"Oh, no," she said, shaking her head worriedly.
"What?" asked Harry, setting the broomstick down on the floor.
"Oh, no," Hermione repeated, still shaking her head. She pulled her hands away from her mouth. "You can't be here."
"Hermione-"
"You can't stay; if my father came home and saw you, he'd-"
"Hermione-"
"You've got to go, you can't- mmph!" Hermione was cut off as Harry pulled her into his arms again and kissed her firmly, effectively silencing her frantic ramblings and making Emma blush a little as she watched. Their embrace lasted a few moments before Harry loosened his hold on Hermione and let her pull away slightly.
"Shh," he said soothingly. "Relax, 'Mione, nothing's going to happen to me. If we hurry up, anyway."
"Hurry up with what?"
Harry smiled somewhat nervously and ran a hand through his hair. "I was hoping to get to do this in a more romantic spot - you know, candles and roses and all that - but I'll make do…"
"Sorry?" said Hermione, looking bemused.
Harry reached out, took her hands in his, and asked, "Will you marry me?"
Hermione blinked. "What?" she asked weakly. Emma could sympathize; her own knees had just turned to jelly.
Harry reached into a pocket of his robes, extracted a small box and held it out to her. She took it, opened it, and gasped. Harry smiled.
"Hermione Jane Granger, will you marry me?" he asked again.
Hermione, looking stunned, sat down on her bed and stared down at the small box in her hands for a moment, before setting it down beside her. Emma could now see a diamond ring inside of it.
Harry sat down beside Hermione, looking a little anxious. "Hermione?" he prompted.
"Harry…" Hermione started shakily. "I-I'd love to-"
Harry smiled widely. "Brilliant!"
"-but-"
Harry's smile disappeared as quickly as it had come. His face fell. "But?" he repeated. "But what?"
"But… We can't, Harry," said Hermione, closing the box with a soft click. "We just can't. I mean, we'd be in terrible trouble…"
Harry's gaze dropped to his knees. He looked crushed. "Is that all you ever care about?" he asked softly. "Getting in trouble?"
"Harry, I-" Hermione tried, looking a little tearful.
Emma couldn't stand it anymore. Bursting through the door, she exclaimed, "For heaven's sake, Hermione, if you don't marry him, I will!"
Both Harry and Hermione jumped, very startled. Emma realized how loudly she had spoken, and was immediately grateful for the fact that her husband wasn't supposed to be home for another fifteen minutes. She could easily have spoiled the young couple's chance at happiness by alerting Rick to the fact that there was a wizard in the house.
"Mum!" Hermione exclaimed. "Mum, I can explain, I-"
Emma held up a hand to silence her daughter. "Hermione, do you love this boy?" she asked, gesturing to Harry.
"Yes, of course, but-"
Emma held up her hand again. "Haven't you been wishing that you could be with him ever since you came here?"
"Every day, but-"
"Then why are you throwing the chance to be with him - be with him forever, I might add - away?" Emma interrupted, folding her arms and adopting the same expression she had always used when giving Hermione a lecture.
Her daughter sighed and put her face in her hands, causing Harry, no matter how wounded he was, to put a comforting hand on her back.
"I want to be with Harry more than anything in the world, Mum, but we both know why I can't…" she said miserably.
"And why is that?" asked Emma.
"Because Dad will never, ever want to see me again if he finds out that I ran off with someone from a world that he's taken to pretending doesn't exist," said Hermione, "and no matter how much I love Harry and want to be able to be with him again," she said, removing her face from her hands and giving Harry a meaningful look as she did, "I don't want to do that if the price of my happiness is being estranged from my family for the rest of my life."
Emma sighed and shook her head, a small smile on her lips. Her Hermione. Always so logical, always so sensible. She walked over to her daughter, knelt down in front of her and brushed a stray tear from her cheek.
"Hermione, dear, do you honestly think I would let that happen?" she asked softly. "Do you really think that I would let your father be so pigheaded that he would never want to see his own daughter again because she found someone to love?"
The same small smile made its way onto Hermione's lips. "No," she said. "No, of course not."
"Clever girl," said Emma, giving her daughter a quick, tight hug as she stood up. She watched as Hermione turned, smiled, and put her arms around Harry, who gladly returned the gesture.
"In that case, Harry," murmured Hermione, "yes. With all my heart, yes. I'd be honoured to become your wife."
Emma watched, her smile widening, as Harry's face lit up and he seized Hermione around the waist, picking her up and spinning her around as she laughed. When he set her down again, he picked the small box up off the bed and slipped the ring onto Hermione's finger, grinning slightly goofily. Hermione beamed. Emma gave the two of them a few moments to enjoy what had just taken place, before she patted her daughter's shoulder to bring her back to the present.
"Go on then, get your things," she said. "Hurry up now, before your father comes home."
Something seemed to click in Hermione's head at that. "Oh, right…" she said quickly, before picking up her wand, which had been laying on her desk, and giving it a few smart flicks. Emma quickly moved out of the way and gawped as Hermione's bags flew out of her closet by themselves, her dresser drawers opened on their own, and all of her clothes began folding and packing themselves at lightning speed, while the remainder of her belongings hovered beside the rest of her luggage, waiting to place themselves on top. Magic certainly helped when it came to making one's escape, thought Emma.
A moment later, all of Hermione's things were packed, except for her coat, which she had pulled on, and the bouquet of roses, which she cradled in her arms. She smiled, a mixture of joy and sadness in her expression, and pulled her mother into a tight hug, taking care not to squash the flowers between them.
"Goodbye, Mum," she said softly. "Thank you," she added, even more softly.
"Goodbye, dear," Emma replied, willing herself not to cry. This was a happy occasion, after all. "Don't forget to write, OK?"
Hermione smiled as she loosened her hold on her mother and stepped back, picking up her bags with one hand. "OK."
Harry, who had shuffled his feet a little awkwardly throughout Hermione and Emma's goodbyes, now moved to retrieve his broomstick from the floor. Emma stopped him with a hand on his arm. He froze, looking surprised. He evidently hadn't expected anyone but Hermione to pay any attention to his presence.
"Take care of my little girl, won't you?" said Emma, losing her battle against her tears and wiping her eyes to clear them away.
Harry smiled and nodded. "Of course," he said.
Emma sniffled softly and nodded. "Well," she said, "you two had better go. Rick will be home any minute now."
Harry and Hermione nodded. Harry retrieved his broomstick and took Hermione's hand in his.
"We're expected at The Burrow, love," he said to her. She nodded. The two of them gave Emma one last, smiling look, before they both turned on the spot and disappeared with no more than a soft pop, leaving a tearful-but-happy Emma standing alone in the middle of her daughter's bedroom.
Moments later, the door opened and shut downstairs. Emma sighed with relief. Talk about cutting it close!
This should be interesting, she thought, making her way down the stairs to greet her husband.