The sound of wedding bells

Disclaimer: I do not own these characters.

Author’s Note: This is a story that’s been bouncing around in my head for awhile. It actually came out of writing my other Fan Fiction, House Divided. Which is radically different from this story. Anyway, I’m still working on the other story, but I thought I would put this up. I’ve been writing it off and on for a little while now. I wanted to try my hand at a post DH story, see how I do. Let me know, and enjoy.

　

　

It all started with the letter. It wasn’t extravagant, and it wasn’t long. It was just memorable, though perhaps only for him. It had come by way of owl, as so many of his letters did. It was in the familiar fluid handwriting of one of his dearest childhood friends and it said simply;

I miss you, Harry. Hope you come home soon.

Love, Hermione.

He had read it and reread it hundreds of times. She had sent other letters since but he scrutinized none the way he did that first one. He thought it was the “I” and not “We” which sent the shivers down his back, but it was hard to be sure. He couldn’t really get a good read off the thing. It was very short. He had noticed, however, that in all letters since she always used a “we”. Other people had sent him owls in the years since he left, but none stuck with him the way that letter did.

He would often go into his luggage and pull out a stack of letters from Ron, his best friend. The ginger that could make him laugh so easily, even in print. Or he would look through his stack from Ginny, the girl who’s heart he broke. He would even read those from Neville and Seamus and his other school mates. He would take time reading his letters from Mr. and Mrs. Weasly, his surrogate family. He treasured all the letters, every stack of which were bound with red string according to sender and nestled gently in his duffle. The first one from Hermione though, that one he had put in a frame.

It had been three years since his self imposed exile. He had wanted to get away from Great Britain. Away from the memories of that place. The war had hardened him. He would look in the mirror some days and forget who he was back then, in those dark times. When it was all over he left. He told those near and dear to him that he was going. He had brought them all to his home, the one he bought in the heart of London and told them that he had to leave. He had spent a year in London trying to get through his daily grind. Trying to forget the things he had seen, the things he had done. Try to just live an ordinary life of purpose and quiet dignity.

The place was like a frozen world to him. Like a poison. The city spoke of times now gone. Happy memories and worse yet the tragedies that befell him. His family, his proper family all but erased from the world. Those he loved like fathers dead and gone. His mind would turn to Sirius or Lupin and most importantly to Dumbledore too often in that house. With no real warning he had bought his ticket and made up his mind. He told his closest living friends that he was going and he didn’t know when he would return. They tried to understand, but it was hard for them. He knew that, but it couldn’t be helped. He was drowning in his own fame.

So he found himself in Dublin for a time and Moscow as well. He had made it to the wailing wall and climbed the peaks of Dover. After a number of months of trekking across Europe he had made his way east to Asia. He worked on rice patty farms and wandered almost lost through thick mountain forest. He had stayed for a time in temples with monks and learned some things about himself and his soul. When he had reached the farthest eastern shore of Asia he kept going. In California he spent time working the docks to earn enough money to continue. He stared into the great abyss of the grand canyon and marveled at the skyscrapers of New York and their defiance of the sky. He traveled from coast to coast of America and then moved north. He was in Alaska when he saw the northern lights for the first time. He attended some classes in a local college in Montréal until he grew restless with schooling. When he reached the northern tip of North America he went south. He experienced the warmth and hospitality of Mexico and enjoyed the rain forests of South America. In Cape Froward he took a job working as a deck hand on great ship. He traveled on the ship to Australia. He spent time there exploring the great cities and sites and roughing it in the outback. He met a man who had planned an expedition to Antarctica and decided to tag along.

While there in the biting cold he learned to survive and to thrive. He next went to Japan on a sea faring boat from Australia. He spent time there learning the customs of that totally alien culture. After all of his travels and all his time spent abroad he finally made land fall in Wales. He took a job as a farm hand. The work was hard, but he had become accustom to that. He had found that hard work and labor made him feel alive and refreshed. It pulled his mind away from the small and large horrors of his life. He could throw himself into his work and forget about anything else.

In this way Harry Potter spent three years of his life. In that time he had received countless letters, and when he found the time he replied to most of them. The work had made him strong. Lean and muscular. He found little comfort in the cramped spaces he lived in, as he was now many shirt sizes away from the start of his journey. In these cramped spaces he found it difficult to write. Most of his response letters were short and to the point. Most containing only a sentence or two. All usually in the style of, “Doing fine. Hope all is well back home.”

He had not touched his massive wealth of wizard gold at all in his travels. He had worked his own way across the world, sleeping many months only in worker lodgings or in fields beneath the stars. His hair had grown long and his beard had grown in. The scar that made him famous across the wizarding world hidden behind much longer locks of unruly hair. Ron had sent pictures with some of his letters. Harry took great care of them. His favorite was one snapped at the engagement party.

While Harry was away Ron and Hermione had broken up. According to both of them it was the bickering that finally won out. Ron had moved on to their close friend Luna. She stood beside him in the picture. She looked marvelous in her shimmering blue gown. In the picture her hand would move slightly toward Ron’s. Ron stood tall as ever, crimson hair shorter than Harry remembered. Ginny stood to the side beaming with happiness over the engagement of her brother and best friend. She looked great in her red dress. However it wasn’t Ginny that Harry would stare at most nights.

It was the beautiful girl in the yellow sundress. Her chocolate eyes and bushy brown hair all at once familiar and totally new to him. She was mostly in the background. She looked sad, distant. Harry wondered many times why. He hoped she would be okay. He hoped his leaving wasn’t the cause. He would pull her note from his only duffle and reread it again. He worried for her so. Ron had made some mention of her failure to make a new life for herself.

She had become a professor. She worked at Hogwarts during the school year and as a scholar of note to the ministry over the summers. She spent all of her time working. Ron had said he had barley seen her lately. He was clearly concerned. Harry had made a habit of checking the skies at night for owls. To see if any more news came of his old life. The people he left behind. The other workers on the farm would often ask what he was looking for in the stars. He would only laugh a little and tell them simply, “An excuse.”

Deep down Harry knew that his days as a farm hand were coming to their end. He knew that he would have to return to London soon. He had finally made peace with his dark and disturbing life and had found purpose in living again. He had put behind him the actions of war and managed to find remnants of the old Harry Potter standing excitedly on platform Nine and three quarters. Now all he waited for was a reason to exit his time as a poor world weary traveler and see if he could fit back into his old life. So there was truth in his statement. He looked to the skies for an excuse to leave it all behind.

One night as he was about to walk back to the lodging and his cramped room his excuse came. It was carried on the leg of an owl. A tawny colored barn owl. It dropped the letter in Harry’s hand and stayed awhile for a treat and some lazy stoking of it’s belly feathers before it spread it’s wings and flew off into the night. The letter itself was two pages. Harry opened the rolled letter and read it carefully in the dim light cast by the moon.

Harry,

You are cordially invited as a guest (plus one) to the wedding of

Ronald Weasly and Luna Lovegood.

We hope you will be in attendance as the Groom wishes respectfully that you act as Best Man.

Love from, Ron and Luna.

Harry blinked twice and read the missive over again. His best friend was getting married. The second sheet of parchment had all the necessary information, location date and whatnot. It was going to be at the Burrow in three weeks time. Harry had needed an excuse, this was it.

* * *

When Harry arrived in London he immediately went round to his flat. Everything there was free of dust. It took him slightly by surprise. He had been gone for three years and had never hired a cleaning service. He thought his Apartment too humble to bother. It was a two bedroom affair with one bathroom and a full kitchen. From the kitchen to his room was a hallway of modest length and across from the kitchen his living room. He had bought the place for the living room. It had a great big bay window over looking London. He could sit on the sill and look out at the massive city. Quaint but in that refined British way. Though the apartment didn’t really feel like home anymore he set his clothes in the closet and sat on his couch.

As soon as he had turned on the television the mystery of his clean apartment was solved. He heard a key in the doorknob. He sprung from the couch and raced toward the door. He pulled it open in time to see a very shocked Hermione holding a bag of cleaning supplies and the one copy he had made of his flat key. He smiled warmly at her and waited for her to recover. She shook her head and blinked several times before she found her bearings and her voice.

“Harry.” She gasped with tears welling in her eyes, “You’re home.”

“Just got in.” He answered with a shrug.

Before he could get a word out about being just about to send word to everyone he was pulled into the fullest hug of his life. Not knowing what to do really he hugged back. In his travels he had received few hugs. He wasn’t really used to them anymore. He could hear her muttering into his shirt, his faded lived in flannel shirt. He couldn’t be sure but he thought the words were, “I missed you so much.”. It was difficult to tell. Her voice muffled by the fabric and her words spoken so softly. So earnestly. He could feel the wet warmth of her tears soaking through his shirt and onto his chest.

“I missed you too, Hermione.” He said finally.

Harry was in the kitchen staring lost at his own cupboards. He had brought Hermione into the apartment and had her take a seat in his living room. He had said he was going to put a kettle on but as soon as he had gotten as far as trying he could no longer remember where he kept anything. He had been gone so long that he had become a stranger in his home. All of which he found both exciting and odd in many ways. He probably hadn’t been standing there too long before she walked in behind him.

“It’s in the one under the sink.” Hermione said gently.

“Right. Right. Of course it is.” Harry nodded with a smile, “Thank Merlin you’re here, kid. I may need you to give me a tour of my own bloody place.”

“Okay, Harry.” She smiled warmly. She was avoiding the question she wanted to ask him. Perhaps she was just waiting for him to explain, or maybe she just though the answer would break her heart.

She moved towards the sink and pulled out the kettle. After filling it with water she set it on the stovetop to boil while she rummaged through his pantry for tea leaves. She had made a habit of picking up food here and there for the apartment. She had spent the night there some times. It was closer to the ministry than her flat, and a small part of her just wanted to remember him.

She had tried to move on with her life when he had gone. She really had. She went to nightclubs and parties with their friends. She even dated a man for a little while, though nothing ever came of it. It wasn’t long until the old adage caught up with here. His absence had truly made her heart grow fonder. To certain point she stopped caring about her personal life. She made caring for his apartment part of her daily routine. No one knew about her feelings except for her mother. Her mother always seemed to know what lay inside her heart, a trait Hermione was so glad to have back.

It had taken most of that first year after the war to get her parents memories sorted out, but eventually she had. Her father would still sometimes confuse Luna and Ginny when the girls came to call, but otherwise life had been pretty fairly back to normal. Hermione lived with her parents until early last year when they all decided it was time she concentrated on her own life. She got a modest flat which she shared with Ginny. All of that was so distant to her at that moment though. Because he was back. Harry Potter was back. Standing lean and muscular with a silly beard and long hair. The silence was awkward and palpable.

“You don’t have to make the tea.” Harry offered by way of breaking the tension.

“Nonsense.” She replied with a dismissive wave of her hand, “I’ll make the tea, you tell me about your travels.”

“Not much to tell.” He chuckled, “Worked a lot. Saw some amazing things though.”

“No. No. No.” She smiled as she forced him back into the living room and onto the couch, “You’re gone for three years with hardly a word to anyone, you don’t get off so easy. Talk.”

“Okay. Yeah.” Harry began to collect his thoughts, “Let me just get my head in order.”

“I don’t have all week, Harry.” She kidded him.

“Oh ho. Look at you and your razor sharp wit.” He kidded back, “Well, okay then. I went around the world basically.”

“Really?” She said interested, “We took holiday to the Isle of Wight, but other than that, just good old Londontown.”

“Yeah, no I haven’t actually been in London for awhile.” He rubbed the back of his neck, “I thought about coming back when Ron got engaged but…”

“So where were you?” She quickly changed the subject when she noticed the far away look on his face.

“Little bit of everywhere really.” He answered, “Started off just going around the UK, but I ended up all over. Even went down to the South Pole for a few months.”

“The South pole?” She asked excitedly, “How did you stand the cold?”

“Well you don’t get used to it really.” He tried hard to explain, “You just sort of learn to live with it. It was amazing down there though, Hermione.” His eyes lit up, “There were snow peaks as big as any mountain and the sky was almost always grey. If you looked off into the distance it seemed like the sky just melted into the ground and you were caught in the weird frozen world.”

“Did you see any polar bears?” She inquired.

“Yeah, lots of them.” He laughed, “There was one that took a liking to the camp because one of the blokes took to feeding it. Used to come up to the structures and make little noises until we went out and gave it a proper meal. She was like the great big pet of the expedition. Drove Dc. McMillan insane, we did.”

“He was the head of it?” She asked.

“Yeah, he said we shouldn’t be feeding it because we might upset the balance of the eco system. He was always saying things like that, good guy though. Met him the first time I went to Australia.” Harry answered.

“You went to Australia?” Hermione said excitedly.

“Sure.” Harry replied, “I went to a lot of places. Asia, the Americas, Japan, all over really.”

“Come on then, lets have the pictures then.” She replied with honest enthusiasm.

“Can’t.” Harry answered back, “Never did have a camera. Although..” He leapt to his feet and raced into his room. He tore through the contents still remaining in his duffle before he found his small stack of pictures. Almost all of them sent by Ron. But there, a little more than halfway through the stack he found the one he was looking for.

It was tattered around the corners from travel but there it was. It was a picture of him and the family he was staying with in the Congo. He had slightly shorter hair and a much more patchy beard. He stood at the entrance to the one room little house the family shared with him. Around him were the four children and the mother. She was in her late thirties but already had graying hair. The kids were three boys and a girl. The girl was the oldest, just a few years younger than him. He remembered his time in that little house. It had been a good place to be, with a very caring family around him.

He took the picture out to the living room and handed it to Hermione. She studied it for a few minuets before pointing her finger to the girl and raising her eyebrow slightly.

“She’s pretty.” Hermione said, “Were you two close?”

“Yeah, sort of.” Harry replied unaware of the deeper meaning of her question, “That’s Adriel. She was the eldest sister of a family I stayed with, though to be honest I spent more time with the middle boy. He taught me how to hunt.” Harry beamed.

“They look lovely.” Hermione said relieved, “So did you stay with many people?”

“Here and there.” Harry answered, “Mostly just worker lodging and camping outdoors.” He rubbed his lower back, “Which, by the way, is something I’m not likely to do again for awhile.”

“Well, you look fantastic.” Hermione blushed slightly but tried to plug on anyway, “Except for the beard.”

“Yeah?” Harry rubbed the hair o his chin, “I kinda liked it, myself. Guess it is a bit odd for a young Londoner though.”

“Without a doubt.” She smiled, “So what brought you back? It sounds like an amazing time you had.”

“It was, Hermione. It really was.” Harry answered, “I left so… I don’t know, lost I guess. But out there. I’ll tell you, mate. It was so different and so amazing.”

“And now you’re back in boring old London.” She offered.

“not how I would have put it, but yeah.” He responded, “And let me tell you, it is brilliant to see you. You look amazing.”

“You’re just saying that. Besides you haven’t seen me in three years.” She answered, “I’m bound to look great.”

“Well whatever it is, don’t you go changing it.” Harry said pleasantly.

She would have kissed him then. She was sure of it. He had said such nice things about her. But fate intervened. The kettle started to whistle and Harry jumped up, he seemed to do a lot of jumping around now, no doubt because of his newly athletic physique. He told her to stay put while he made up the tea and that he would be right back. She spent the time he was gone composing herself. She reminded herself not to come off as desperate or lonely. It was certainly not the most becoming look in her repertoire. She smoothed her skirt nervously as she waited for him to come back.

He came back with the cups in his hands. No serving tray she thought to herself, his time abroad had changed him so much but he was still totally unaware of custom. She loved that about him. He handed her a cup of tea and sat back on the couch. She took a sip. To say it was horrible tea would be like saying Grizzly bears are slightly intimidating. This tea was beyond the normal conventions for horrible.

“This is…” She trailed off wondering if he would be able to take the complaint before deciding that this was Harry, her Harry, “Well it’s rubbish, really.”

“Yeah, that’s why I’m not drinking it.” He laughed. She forgot how comforting his laughter was, “I’m not so great at the brewing thing. Been living off of coffee for a long while now.”

“It shows.” She laughed, “You’re such a goof.”

“I’ve been called worse, I’ll take it.” He grinned.

“You’ve changed.” She said admiringly, “You seem so, I don’t know. Easy going?”

“Had a lot of time to grow up a little.” He responded.

“So it would seem, burly guy.” She teased, “So, again, what brought you back?”

“Ron’s getting married.” Harry said excited.

“I see.” She nodded knowingly, “I figured, but who can tell what you know about these days.” She mused.

“Truer words.” He said pleasantly, “Mostly my fault.”

“It’s so good to have you back, Harry.” She smiled warmly.

“It’s good to be back, Hermione.” Harry responded.

And so began the next greatest adventure of Harry Potter’s life. He had been a boy hero, and he had been a war hero. He had become famous for doing nothing and then famous for doing so much more. Yet in all his time wandering his lonely planet he had yet to find the one thing he had always searched for. A way to understand the woman sitting in front of him, the woman that had gotten him through the war and showed him how remarkable life could be with the simple gesture of a very short letter which even now was framed and sitting on the dresser in his bedroom.

Author’s Note: Well let’s first address the one major issue in the last bit. I wrote an anecdote for Harry about a Polar Bear. It totally slipped my mind that Polar Bears were in the North and not South Pole. Sorry about that, and good catch guys. Luckily the Polar Bear thing doesn’t effect the story. Well on to other things, Let me just say that the amount of positive responses I’ve gotten this early in has been awesome, thank you all so much for reading. Hope you enjoy this next bit as well.

　

Hermione stepped into the hallway. She waited for the sound of the door click behind her before she hugged herself. She smiled and sighed deeply. That had gone well. Much better than she had expected. It was weird for her to see him again. She reminded her of a time in her life when she was strong enough to stand for what she believed. He looked so different now, as if to remind her of the time that had passed.

His travels had changed him though. She wondered if perhaps it had changed him too much. He was her best friend, he had always meant so much to her. When he had told them he was leaving she was destroyed, but she understood. He had needed his time away. To find himself perhaps. Maybe only to crawl out of the dark place he had found himself in. She had hated to see him the way he was before he left. He was dull and listless. Devoid in a way she couldn’t describe. A part of him had died when he had been forced to take another life.

But he was back. Different but back. Though there was something growing in her again, like it had during the war. A feeling in the pit of her stomach which glowed inside her and spread warmth through her extremities. When she had seen the picture of him standing next to that pretty girl in a far away land a stab of pain shot through her heart. She was bright enough to decipher the meaning of her emotions. Excepting it was totally different. She had buried these thoughts once before.

Was she ready to possibly destroy the greatest friendship of her life? Was she strong enough to face it if the answer turned out to be no? And more so could she forgive him? While she understood his need to leave it did not mean that his doing so hadn’t been a huge emotional blow to her. She was a wreak for weeks. She had never managed to really put herself back together completely. She had never known such loss. She had thought that after the war they would all be together again, but Harry messed that dream up. He put her through something that she wasn’t entirely sure she could justify, that she could get over because he was tall and muscular now.

Still, it had gone well. She could only have hoped for that. It had gone well and more so, she was the first to see him. She was the first to see Harry Potter again after three years, and for some reason that made her happy.

* * *

Harry wiped his hand across the fogged bathroom mirror. The heat from his shower had been intense. He felt clean for what must’ve been the first time in years. He stared at his face. It was older than he remembered. His eyes sunk in deeper, as though the things he had seen in his life had an effect on them. His hair was unruly even when wet but he had managed to push it back over his scalp. He ran his hand through his beard. He wondered if he really should just shave it off. It didn’t look terrible, in fact he quiet liked it. It fit on his face. When he had first left it wouldn’t have, though when he first left he could barely grow a beard.

For some reason though Hermione calling his beard silly resonated with him. Finally he decided to shave the damned thing off. When he was done he walked into his kitchen and rifled through his fridge to see if Hermione had left anything good. She had told him about her crashing at his flat some nights. He understood, his place was closer to the Ministry. Still he was starving. He found some leftover Chinese and sat in front of the television as he ate. He hadn’t watched TV in a long time and found it kind of off putting.

He had sent his owls before he took his shower. He wasn’t really sure how long it would be before his first response so he decided to lounge about for awhile. Then he heard the distinct crack noise that signified someone apperating. A sound he hadn’t heard in a very long time. He turned his head toward the door and there stood a tall red head man with an excited look on his face.

“Harry!” Ron shouted before he ran forward and pulled Harry into a great big bear hug.

“Good to see you too Ron.” Harry coughed out happily.

“Get your clothes on, mate.” Ron demanded, “We’re going to the pub!”

With that Harry was dressed and out the door. Ron took him round to their favorite pub and they spent their time there catching up and sharing good drinks and hearty laughs. It was like no time had passed between Harry leaving and getting back. They right back into their routine, as the greatest of friends always do. Ron filled Harry in on all he had missed in Quidditch while away and Harry told Ron about the exotic locals of his journey. As the night wore on they found themselves walking through the streets of London. Laughing a little too loudly for the scarce few people also out that late at night.

When they stumbled onto a children’s park Harry took a seat on one of the swings. Ron took the swing beside him. Neither made any real attempt to swing, they just let the night air envelop them. Their heads spinning slightly with the euphoric high of old friendships and good beer. Finally Harry said it, the thing that had been on his mind since he first got word of the engagement.

“I can’t believe you’re getting married.”

“I know, right.” Ron laughed a little, “Ron Weasly tying the knot. Weird that.”

“Luna, too. How did that happen?” Harry wondered.

“It’s hard to explain love.” Ron sounded so much wiser than he ever had before, “Sometimes it stares you in the face for years and you just don’t have the courage to take a chance. That’s what it was for me and Luna.”

“Yeah?” Harry asked nervously. This was a new kind of conversation for them. As best friends they had discussed so much, but never love. Not really.

“Sure. She was there, mate.” Ron paused, letting himself get washed over in the nostalgia, “I always thought she was pretty and everything, but I was never the kind of man that could forgive her, her oddities. Not until you left.”

“I left?” Harry asked concerned.

“Yeah.” Ron answered, “That’s when it all stared to come together for me. Hermione and me had been over for so long before you left, we just hadn’t said the words. You left and I realized that it was okay to do something for yourself. I realized that all of us were a little messed up and shaken about the war.” Ron sighed, “You never stopped showing us the path, mate. You never stopped leading us.”

“Wow. Thank you.” Harry smiled.

“And look, not to sound mean or anything, “ Ron prefaced, “But when you left it ripped a hole in the world. And don’t, there is no need to apologize, we all understand.”

Harry nodded and indicated Ron continue.

“We all sort of started to wonder what was going to happen next. None of us had really thought about life without Harry Potter.” Ron stared into the night sky, “Never thought we’d have to. But you’re leaving, Merlin did that force us to. We grew up. We moved on and we found a way to live.”

“And Luna was your way?” Harry asked.

“Yes.” Ron looked at his old friend and smiled, “After Hermione and I broke it off she gave me time and space. But she was around, you know. We had dinner together and we hung out, we watched rubbish on TV. It was great, just to have her there. We even talked about you.”

“Me?” Harry looked into the face of his best friend trying to find traces of whether he had hurt him or not.

“Yeah you.” Ron smiled, “We talked about you and my family. About Hermione and about the war. We talked about Fred, how much I missed him. Eventually she was just the one. I loved her before I realized I did. It’s sort of a long story, but turns out she loved me too. Two years in I asked her to marry me.”

“That’s awesome. Really fantastic.” Harry clapped his hand on Ron’s shoulder.

“It is.” Ron nodded, “Thing of it is though, we were going to put it off. We had a couple of times already.”

“Why?” Harry asked concerned.

“Don’t be a git.” Ron chided warmly, “Because I would never be able to get married with you for my best man.”

“Ron, I don’t know what to say.” Harry was touched.

“Say you’ll be my best man then.”

“Ron,” Harry began, emotion welling in his throat, “You never even had to ask. You’re my best mate. Of course I will.”

“Great, oh you owe me a bachelor party by the way.” Ron kidded.

“Right. Where am I going to find a clown and a blow up play pen this late in the season?” Harry shot back.

“Dunno.” Ron grinned, “but we’ll manage.”

“About the wedding.” Harry confessed, “I don’t really know who I’m bringing as a plus one.”

“We’ll manage that too.” Ron grinned in his devious way.

The boys talked for a little while about anything and everything before they decided to pack it in for the night. Ron went home, he had apparently moved into a place with Luna and left the burrow. Harry went home. As soon as he was in he saw the pile of mail at his window sill. The owls all gone. He took off his jacket and hung it in the closet before he crossed the living room and scooped up all of his post.

There were letters from everyone, welcoming him back and demanding that they see him before the wedding. He would try to find the time. There was one though, which was addressed to him in the cramped but pretty handwriting he remembered as Ginny’s. He opened it and was suddenly lost again.

Harry,

It’s great to hear that you’re back. We need to meet up. I don’t think we ever really settled things between you and I. It took your absence to make me realize it, Harry. I love you. Please, come see me.

Love always, Ginny.

Harry just stared at the letter. He hated to confess it to anyone, but he hadn’t thought about Ginny at all in several months. He didn’t know how he felt about her. He didn’t know what he would say to her when and if he did meet her. What’s more he had a weird tugging in the pit of his stomach that told him his heart belong to another. He couldn’t tell who, he just knew that whatever else he could give Ginny, his heart was not his own property anymore. His head sunk in self pity as he realized he wasn’t the sort that put things off anymore either. He would have to meet up with Ginny, but he didn’t want to hurt her. He was sure his leaving had hurt enough people.

Besides which, it’s not to say he didn’t like her. She was strong and courageous and even beautiful. Harry had loved her once. He couldn’t deny that. Also it was really close to Ron’s wedding for him to go breaking the guy’s sister’s heart. “Happy wedding, this is your crying sister“, Harry thought grimly. He sighed and looked at the hall that lead to his room. He figured he’d give his old bed a try and worry about everything else in the morning.

　

Harry held Ginny’s note for awhile. It was a can of worms he really wasn’t prepared for. He didn’t know what to say to her. He had sort of hoped after all this time that she had moved on. Forgotten about him. She wasn’t some fling in his turbulent love life, he knew that. He couldn’t ever bring himself to vilify her in any way, but she wasn’t the one for him. It had taken many long months of very hard work to figure out that she was great, amazing and even brilliant, but she wasn’t what he wanted.

She had an easy kind of confidence. Like the world was built up around her and she was in total control of it. He envied that, even though he knew it was a façade. Just a face prepared to throw people off the trail of the shy sweet girl she really was. However over time it seemed that she had forgotten that it was a false persona as well. She was beautiful, there was no denying that. Anyone could see it. He would be a fool not to. But she wasn’t his kind of beautiful. Her looks belong in another man’s fantasies.

She was charming, and funny, but she was never as in on the joke when it was about her. She was so strong, and yet so fragile. Her strength was outward. It was there for the world to see. Her heart was dangling precariously over the desire to be accepted for who she was and the hope that no one ever found out. Harry needed inner strength. He needed someone that never cared what the world thought of her. He just hadn’t found that girl yet, though he was certain that his heart knew more than it let on.

His relationship with Ginny had been mired in a kind of storm for as long as it existed. In the beginning he though that it had felt right, only to discover that what it really felt like was forced. He felt like he was preordained by friends and circumstance to wind up with Ginny. After the war it only got worse. He began to ignore her owls, he would treat her with nothing but respect, friendship but nothing more. He could see that it hurt her. He felt horrible about it, but he could never ask her out again. Not after what happened.

It is said that battle changes men. This was truer for Harry than most. He had gone in as a boy hero. The underdog favorite of the masses. He had come out a kind of demigod to his people. He was regarded as the most powerful wizard of his age. Very little of that was true. He was more cunning than clever, and he was more brave than powerful. Mostly though he just felt like he was lucky. The luckiest wizard of his age. There were so many books out about his life. Journalists and historians and whoever else. For months after the war he could not walk through Diagon Alley without hundreds of copies of his own bewildered face staring back at him from book covers.

In those books were lies. His relationship with Ginny had been romanticized beyond absurdity. They had called her the greatest love of his life. Wizarding magazines said she was gorgeous. The only witch around suitable for such a hero as him. Even then he felt the pressure. The Minister of Magic had even gone so far as to ask him to date her again. It was good for the post war for him to date a girl from a pure bloodline.

It all just made Harry feel sick. Just looking at her note was making him recall some of the reasons that he left. He didn’t know if he had the courage to face her again. Not now, certainly not like this. He had to though. He knew that much. If only to put it all to rest at last. He just had to find a way to do it without hurting her.

* * *

First thing the next morning Harry got dressed proper and made his way to the Ministry. He checked in as a guest and walked the long hallway the office of Hermione Granger. She had always been the best person to ask about “girl things” in his life. Just being there he recalled how much he had once wished to be an Auror. Chasing down the bad guys and doing what was right for the world. The fight had gone out of him in the intervening years. He still admired them, but he was done with danger, and he was done with fame. He actually feared excelling at that job, if only for the potential of ever growing fame. He spent most days before his travels hoping the excitement about him would die down.

While lost in his reminiscence he found himself in front of the very office he wanted. She had been doing so much with her life. While Harry had worried about her isolation as described in Ron’s letters he could never argue with her passion. The equal rights legislation she had helped pass had bridged so many gaps in their culture. Open negotiations with the giants had been fostered through her. She had fought for wages for house elves and won. She had even established a foreign student exchange program with the best wizard school in the world. He was nothing if not proud of her.

He knocked his slow beat on her door and she opened it. She looked harried. Her hair was a mess and she had a pencil balanced delicately between her lips. He noticed suddenly what amazing lips she had. Plump and soft and pink. She wore no makeup, she looked a sight, but he thought she was stunning. He dismissed the thought. He was sure he had noticed all of this before. He had likely just forgotten it in his travels. When she saw him though, something even more wonderful happened. She lit up. Her face brightened and her whole body seemed to float.

Harry found himself just staring at her. Perhaps for too long because she started to smooth out her hair nervously. She thought he was noticing how badly she looked. Finally she smiled and the pencil slipped away to the ground.

“Hello, Harry. What can I do for you?”

“Uhm..” Harry bent down and retrieved her pencil, “Here you go. Can I come in?”

“Thank you.” She smiled reassuringly, “And of course you can.”

Aside from a very large stack of paperwork on her desk Hermione’s office looked pretty much like he figured it would. It was neat and organized. It had a couch against the far wall with filing cabinets surrounding it. There was a full waste paper basket against a large oak desk with one of those ergonomic chairs behind it. Against the other wall she had one of those pin boards with news print clipping hung on it. In the corner by the door was a stool. Harry grabbed the stool and sat in front of her desk. She moved and sat down beside it.

“It has been crazy here.” She answered no question, “If you hadn’t stopped by I might have forgotten to take a break.”

“Good thing I stopped by then.” He grinned, “What’re you working on?”

“This and that.” She answered running her hand over the paper work, “Trying to do something with the storehouse of dark arts artifacts left over from the war, mostly.”

“All this and she teaches.” He said good humouredly.

“Yes she does.” Hermione smiled at him, “So what brings you down?”

“Well, basically. This.” He handed her the note from Ginny. Her eyes glided over it once, then again. She mouthed a few words here and there before putting it on her desk and staring at him.

“Are you two going to get back together?” There was a weird concern in her voice that Harry couldn’t place.

“Uhm, well that’s sort of the thing, though isn’t it.” He answered guiltily.

“Is it?” She demanded, “When did she even write this?”

“Last night probably. I talked with Ron about how I didn’t have a plus one and next thing I know there’s that thing.” Harry looked at it with a sick grimace.

“Ron?” Hermione rubbed her forehead, “Ever the match maker that one.”

“Except I don’t think I want to be a part of that match.” Harry confessed.

“Excuse me?” Hermione looked shocked. She was. The whole world thought that the love affair between Harry and Ginny was the stuff of legend, “You don’t?”

“No.” Harry looked away, “I don’t. And please don’t make a big deal out of it.”

“It’s just that, the stuff in those books..” She trailed off.

“You believe everything you read?” He shot back. He was met only with a stare from her, “Oh, well. Yeah I guess you do.”

“It’s just that, well Harry.” She paused to collect her thoughts, “You never went for anyone else after her.”

“Goddamn those books.” He said darkly, “It’s not like that, it never was. I dated her for less than a year in school. Where do these people get these things. Need I remind that Rita Skeeter once said we were a couple. People make these things up to sell books.”

“Yeah.” Hermione said with a sad look on her face, “I guess that’s true. But you could have righted it all if you took up that publisher’s offer and written your own book.” She changed the subject.

“Hermione, Me write?” Harry grinned, “Clearly you never read my essays in school.”

“Now that, we both know is a lie.” She laughed.

“True.” He conceded, “But nonetheless, I don’t really think I’ll be penning that manuscript in this lifetime.”

“Shame.” She answered dismissively, “A lot of people would be interested in your take on events.”

“Dear world, I was one lucky kid.” Harry said confidently with laughter chasing his voice.

“Oh, Harry.” Hermione reached across the desk and took his hand in hers, “You have to know it was so much more than that. You are the hero they think you are, Harry. Whether you see it or not.”

“Look, I’m not trying to change the subject here,” He said before he did just that, “But I came down here for advice. I don’t want to hurt Ginny. Last thing I want to do.”

“Then ask her out.” Hermione said coldly.

“Okay, I lied.” Harry responded too quickly, “That’s the last thing I want to do.”

“You’re sunk then.” She said with a weird sort of victorious smile.

“That’s not the best news ever.” Harry leaned back in his chair and sighed, “It’s not that I don’t love her. I do. She meant a lot to me once upon a time. She did, regardless of what I say. It’s just… Merlin! I can never find the words!”

“Calm down.” She said caressing his hand. It occurred to her then that she had been holding his hand for a long time. Had neither of them noticed that? How odd she thought briefly, “Just let it roll around in your head and then say it.”

“You always know what to do.” He squeezed her hand and a spark passed between them, though neither would admit to the other, “Okay. I don’t think she’s the one I really want.”

“Who do you want?” A ring of hope was in her tones, though Harry failed to notice it.

“I don’t know.” He confessed, “I honestly don’t. I just know it’s not her. I can’t talk to other people about this. I need you.”

“That I can understand. Ron is her brother.” Hermione quickly summed up.

“It’s not that.” Harry smiled, “No one knows me like you. No one let’s me think aloud from head and heart like you.”

“Well.” Hermione blushed, “That’s extraordinarily kind of you to say.”

“Not really.” Harry said flippantly. He had become so much more easy going in his time away, so much more of his heart was on his sleeves these days. It was an adjustment she was going to have to get used to, “Just a statement of fact.”

“I don’t really know what to tell you though.” Hermione said sadly, “The very best you can do is let her down gently. But either way it’s going to hurt her. You broke her heart once by leaving. Maybe she just needs this closure.”

“You might be right.” Harry sighed, “Fighting wars was so much easier. Point wand, Fire. Nothing to it, except looming death and horrible dreams. Why is dealing with relationships so much harder?”

“It’s the nature of the beast, Sweetheart.” Hermione smiled, “We’re better at war than love. It takes a truly amazing person to understand love the way you do, to use it the way you do. But unfortunately, this time around, it’s still the pits to dump someone.”

“You’re right. You’re always right.” Harry nodded, “You doing anything tomorrow night?”

“What?” Hermione asked shocked.

“I was wondering if you wanted to hang out.” He said innocently, “It’s been forever, and as great as talking to you is, I was hoping to just get coffee and walk around the city. Like old times.”

“Sure.” She said, “What brought this on?”

“You know it’s the damnedest thing.” He said as he got to his feet to leave, “You’ve been on my mind for awhile now. See you.”

“Yeah.” She smiled, “See you.”

With that Harry was gone. She sat back in her chair and kept rerunning the words over in her head. He had been thinking about her for awhile. What could that mean? She hoped they were good thoughts. She hoped so much. Never in her life had one single, off the cuff, sentence contained so much hope. On the other side of the door at that very moment Harry Potter was leaning against the wall. Trying to put together a puzzle with no picture on it. She had called him “sweetheart”. It had seemed so natural that he had barely noticed it. Now it was all he could think about. Slowly something in the back of his mind began to bloom. Something he couldn’t quiet see yet. But he knew it was something huge. Something amazing. Something that could change his life. He swallowed the lump in his throat and head back to his apartment. He had to write Ginny a note confirming a time for their meeting. He was not looking forward to that.

Author’s Note: Happy New Year! Thanks to everyone for reading this. It’s been really great getting such positive and warm reviews from all of you. There is more to come, by the way. This story hasn’t ended. In fact it’s just starting. However this is the last bit that I had written out. I’ll be working very hard on the next installment, but update times may vary in the future, just bear with me. And once again, Thank you all!

Harry was waiting at the table. He had asked Ginny to meet him at a restaurant. He thought it would be good to break it to her in a public place. She was understanding, but the Weasly temper was not something he planned to underestimate. Besides, she was devilishly good with jinxes. However as the minutes ticked away on his cheap wrist watch the idea of an audience was suddenly starting to turn on him. He was beginning to think it wasn’t his wisest decision after all.

So many people to witness him break a heart. He shouldn’t have picked a muggle place. Their might be some more understanding from his own crowd, he was a hero to them after all. He moved his silverware around nervously. He had already brushed off the waiter once, he didn’t know how much longer he was expected to wait. It had been such a hassle to convert his gold to pounds in the first place. He began to wonder how long he had been waiting. Ten minutes? Twenty? He couldn’t tell.

Suddenly a terrifying thought snuck up on him. Had he been stood up? It wasn’t like her to make him wait this long. She was normally very punctual. It was one of his favorite things about her. He checked his watch again. It was definitely half past nine. He had said nine, he was sure he had said nine. While he was caught up trying to remember what he had written down the whole place went silent. Harry looked around at the other patrons and followed their line of sight to the front door.

She looked amazing. If the word amazing could be molded into a person it would have looked like Ginny looked. She had on a black dress. The slightest of shoulder straps kept the fabric clinging to her bosoms. Her hips filled the dress, leaving stress lines between each wonderful thigh. Her makeup was done just right. It wasn’t too much. Harry hated makeup, he thought it was the biggest mark of vanity. He thought women were beautiful and hated the idea that they would need to cover it. Hers however was light. It served only to highlight her natural beauty.

Harry swallowed once, shock his head and swallowed once more for good measure. If he hadn’t felt guilty before he did now. She had gone all out on her look for the evening. She was trying to impress him, and there he sat with every intention of telling her no. If there was any way to feel worse than he did that very moment, Harry didn’t know it. She followed the waiter to the table and had a seat across from Harry. She had moved like liquid the whole way over, true class in every step like the Hollywood starlets of old.

“Hiya, Harry.” She said with her same old robust voice, shattering the illusion completely. Slowly the other patrons returned to their own meals.

“Hi, Ginny.” He said with a bemused smile.

“It’s great to see you again.” She gushed.

“Thanks, you too.” He responded quickly.

“So..” She let the word hang for a second while she gathered her thoughts, “About my letter.”

“Yeah, the letter.” He prepared himself for her next sentence. The one where she tried to pick things up the way they had been left in his sixth year of school.

“I may have been a little hasty.” She said surprising him.

“I’m sorry, what?” He shook his head, “How do you mean?”

“I don’t want you to think that I expect everything to just..” She shook her head as well, “I don’t even know how to put it. Point is, I don’t want you to think I’m trying to push you into anything.”

“That’s, well frankly?” He paused for a second, “Very mature of you.”

“Thank you?” She kidded him.

“No, I didn’t mean to say that I thought you were immature.” He slapped his head, “Not that you thought that I thought that or anything.” He paused and took a breath, “Let’s start over.” He extended his hand, “Hi. I’m Harry.” She laughed at his lame joke.

“I’m Ginny.” She smiled, “Harry, I know that you’ve changed. You would have to have, after all this time.”

“You would too.” He pointed out.

“Yes, I would too.” She agreed, “Which is kind of my point. See, it’s like this. Can you keep a secret?”

“Yeah, I can probably manage that.” He answered.

“I’m such a twelve year old girl some times.” She said with a blush, “When I heard that you were back, it was like my brain shut down. I, Harry… I care about you. I always have. In ways… Merlin, in ways that I just don’t know the words for.”

“I know, Ginny.” Harry began with a sick look on his face.

“No you don’t.” She said kindly. She touched her hand to his cheek, “You really don’t.” She removed her hand, “And that’s okay. It is. Really. But when I heard you were back I wrote that damn letter before I even thought any better of it.”

“Ginny, I-” Harry began. He couldn’t believe the strength it was taking for her to lay herself bare in the way she was.

“I’ve had time, though. To think better of it.” She sighed, “I don’t want it to be like this.” She shook her head and wiped a tear from her eye, “I want you to figure it out for yourself. I want you to love me, Harry. And not because it’s the right thing to do, but because it’s what you want. In your heart.”

“I don’t know what to say here, Gin.” He sad with a hint of melancholy.

“You don’t have to say anything.” She smiled sadly, “I’m willing to find out. I made a mistake with that note. I told you how I felt. About, well about you.”

“That’s true.” Harry shrugged.

“I shouldn’t have.” She put her hand over his, “Because I know you, Harry. I know how you are, I know who you are. You would date me because I felt something for you, even if you didn’t. You always sacrifice more than you should. But I don’t want that. I’m willing to wait for you. I’m willing to change to be the woman you want. I can wait.”

“You don’t have to change anything about yourself.” Harry smiled and squeezed her hand, “You’ve grown up so much. You really have, I’m impressed.”

“Impressed enough to be a deciding factor?” She asked hopefully.

“No.” Harry sighed, “Because you’re right. I have changed. I’ve changed so much. I don’t even know you anymore. Tonight more than anything proves that.”

“So we’ll take it slow.” She smiled confidently.

“Slow I can handle.” Harry returned the smile, “We’ll try the friend thing and see where that takes us.”

“We could try dating?” She said sadly.

“We can’t.” Harry looked away.

“Is there someone else?” Ginny asked.

“No, no one else.” Harry removed his hand. It had become clammy, “It’s me. Truth told, I came here tonight to tell you that I couldn’t be with you.”

“Okay.” She lowered her head. He could see tears welling in his eyes so he pushed her chin up with his finger so her eyes met his.

“Listen to me.” He implored her, “Okay?”

“Okay.” She nodded.

“I knew I didn’t have feelings, not those feelings anyway, for the Ginny I left behind. I knew that.” He smiled reassuringly, “But you? You’re not that Ginny.”

“I’m not?” She sniffed.

“No, you’re not.” He answered, “The Ginny I knew would never show this side of herself. She would never be this open. She was so afraid to show the world that she wasn’t strong in everyway.”

“So you’re happy that I can cry?” She smiled through her tears.

“I am.” He nodded, “This is a Ginny I would like to get to know. As friends.” He stuck his hand out for a hand shake. She cautiously clutched his hand and shook it three times up and down.

“I can live with that.” She answered happily.

“Good.” Harry responded, “Because you may want to get to know me. I’m not the Harry you wrote that note for.”

“So it would seem.” She laughed light heartedly.

* * *

Harry lay on his bed. It was soft, maybe too soft. He thought about replacing it in the morning before he got coffee with Hermione. The night had gone well, much better than he had expected. He was confident he had made the right choice. He liked the way Ginny had changed. He thought she was brilliant. He just didn’t feel the spark. He sat through the entire night waiting to feel something. The tell tale sign of love, but deep down he knew it would never happen. Someone else owned his heart. He just had to find out who.

He was happy that he was free to find out. He had been afraid that Ginny would make him feel horrible about himself. He was once so used to feeling horrible about himself, in the time before he had become content. Instead she had been so remarkable and so understanding. There was a part of Harry that worried for her still, even though she had been so strong. He worried that it was just more of her false strength. He pushed it from his mind. His mind wandered for several more minutes. He couldn’t concentrate on anything. His just moved restlessly.

He rolled over and caught sight of the framed letter from Hermione. He smiled and thought about how excited he was about the next day. Hermione had a way of putting his mind at ease. Of making him feel brilliant and dull all at once. She had a weird effect on him that he could not quantify other than their very long friendship. Somehow after the conversation they had had that morning he knew that friendship didn’t really cover it anymore. He wondered idly if perhaps she was the one. The owner of his heart. He chuckled to himself.

It was an absurd notion. She was his best friend. His shelter in a storm. The only person that could make sense of his chaos. Smart and beautiful. Clever and fun. She was ten million times too good for him. He envied the guy that she eventually fell in love with. He also lamented the fact that he didn’t think it would ever be him. She couldn’t be the owner of his heart, she wouldn’t accept it. He rolled back around and with a queasy feeling in his stomach he drifted off to sleep.

* * *

Hermione was home late. She had lost track of time. She wished she could convince herself that it was work, but after Harry had left she couldn’t concentrate. He was there all day, on her mind. She daydreamed all day about getting coffee with him. About where it could lead. About finally crossing the threshold of friendship into something so much more. Whenever someone stopped by her office for the rest of the day they remarked on how happy she looked. She knew it wasn’t a passing comment, she could feel it. She was practically glowing.

She had walked in her euphoria around the carry out place to get herself some dinner before she got home. The shop keep had guessed right on the nose when he said that some man was very lucky tonight. She refused to admit how deeply her feelings for Harry went, but she was excited to explore it. To test the waters outside of the kiddie pool. She turned her key in the lock with a smile still plastered on her face. She called out to let Ginny know she was home.

She took off her shoes and her coat and moved into the kitchen. She began to lay out the containers on the kitchen cabinet. She shouted to Ginny to let her know that she had picked up a little extra for her as well. She got some silverware out of the drawer and moved into the living room so she could watch the news as she ate. She was halfway through her meal when she began to worry. Ginny still hadn’t responded.

Normally if Ginny was going to be out she would leave a note in the kitchen, but Hermione had seen none. Hermione sat her food on the coffee table and got up. She walked slowly to Ginny’s door. Hermione understood privacy. She felt it was an essential for life. She hated to interrupt Ginny if she needed her privacy. Still her concern outweighed her guilt. She knocked softly on Ginny’s door.

“Ginny?” She asked, “Are you in there?” All she got was a weird muffled response. She asked in a slightly louder voice, “Can I come in?”

The response was soft and muffled but it was certainly an affirmative one. So Hermione opened the door slowly. Ginny was sitting on her bed with a stuffed animal wrapped in her arms. She was in her pajamas, which Hermione knew to mean she had had a bad day. Her makeup ran down her face. She was crying. She clearly had been for some time. She looked over at Hermione with a desperation in her eyes. She looked so small to Hermione then.

Ginny held out her arms and sniffled once. Hermione took the cue. She moved in and sat with Ginny on the bed. She hugged Ginny close to her chest and rocked her back in forth. She made comforting noises and began to slowly hum a lullaby. Ginny nuzzled into her and cried harder. Hermione just continued to hum.

“Thank you.” Ginny sobbed.

“It’s going to be okay.” Hermione kissed the top of her head before she went back to humming.

Eventually Ginny fell asleep. Hermione tucked her into her covers and went back out to the living room. She finished her meal and cleaned up the living room and kitchen. She stuck the leftovers in the fridge for Ginny. She put a note on the fridge door to let Ginny know that they were there for her. She glanced across the hall at the door to Ginny’s room. She bite her lip. She knew why she was crying. Harry had told her he didn’t love her. She knew this was going to happen. She just didn’t think it would be so bad.

Whatever else, Ginny was her friend. It hurt her to she so much pain in those big blue eyes. Hermione glanced at the sink. She would finish everything else in the morning. For now she was tired and sick with herself. She had felt so good about Harry not running back to Ginny. She had been so happy. And so Hermione changed and found herself falling asleep feeling very bad about herself and her ulterior motives.

Harry had expected the doorbell to ring. He just hadn’t expected it so soon. He had called around for most of the morning to different stores trying to get his mattress replaced. It had turned out that his previous one was in fact too soft. His shoulders were killing him. Whenever he turned his head to the left he felt six thousand points of stabbing pain. It was like an indicator to him of how little he still fit into his old world. Still since he had no desire to leave he had decided to make the place more fitting of his new life. He had never thought redecorating could be so cathartic.

Still he had only gotten off the phone a half an hour ago. He didn’t think that the turn around would be this quick. He got up and shuffled over to his door. There to greet him on the other side of his door was not the men with his new mattress, it was Ron and Luna. Luna shrieked and jumped forward to give Harry a hug. Ron had a covered dish of something that smelled wonderful in his hands. As soon as Luna let him go Harry let the couple in.

He sat them in the living room. And went to make tea. When he returned they were sitting close together and giggling about something. One of her hands was in his and the other rested gently on his chest. Harry stood still for a moment and smiled. He had known they were in love. He had read all about it in Ron’s letters. Seeing it was something totally new. The easy way they had with each other, the way they always seemed to be touching. The secret inside jokes they shared. He stood in bare faced wonder at their love. He eventually moved into the living room and set the tea in front of them. He sat in the recliner next to the sofa.

“I’m jealous.” He grinned, “You guys are doing so well.”

“We try.” Ron shrugged. Luna kissed his cheek before turning to look at Harry.

“How have you been?” She smiled her ethereal smile, “It’s been ages.”

“I’ve been great.” He answered, “Well let’s have it. I gotta see the ring this guy got you.” With that Luna laughed and displayed her ring finger. Sitting on it was a modest diamond engagement ring. The band was gold with some really nice engraving. The stone was nice but with a bluish heart in the center. Harry smiled warmly at it and looked at Ron approvingly, “It’s lovely.”

“It’s my favorite color.” Luna gushed, “He’s always so thoughtful.

“Thoughtful, she says.” Ron hugged her from behind, “She was there when I picked it out.”

“Don’t let him kid you.” She leaned into him, “He can be so romantic.”

“I believe it.” Harry said, “How did you afford it?”

“I saved up.” Ron grinned, “Plus the publisher was pretty generous with my advance.”

“You write?” Harry asked amazed.

“Look more shocked why don’t you?” Ron grinned.

“A lot of people write these days, Harry” Luna said as she snuggled against Ron, “Personal accounts of those close to you fly off the shelves. Ron’s lucky people like him.”

“Why?” Harry asked.

“He doesn’t write about the war.” Luna kissed Ron’s hand.

“I write comedy.” Ron grinned.

“What else would it be?” Harry rolled his eyes. He was glad that Ron at least hadn’t sold him out.

“Mostly what I do is joke books. Though my next one is going to be a fiction.” Ron smiled.

“That’s great. Mate.” Harry grinned from ear to ear, “I always told you that you were great.”

“Yeah.” Ron then clapped his hands together and pointed to the dish on the table, “Now lets eat those cookies. I’ve been waiting all morning for them.”

“You’re such a boy.” Luna smiled as she slapped him lightly on his arm.

“That may be.” Ron began, “But it isn’t everyday I can convince you to bake.”

“They do smell amazing.” Harry added.

With that the three of them tore into the cookies. They were good. Harry had no idea Luna could cook. Ron had devoured most like he did with almost all food. Harry laughed as Ron told jokes and Luna talked about the daily grind of running the newspaper she had taken over from her father. Finally when the plate was through Luna set her cup of tea down and put her hand delicately on Harry’s elbow.

“Ron’s asked you to be best man.” Her eyes seemed to smile, “I’m so glad you’ve agreed.”

“Of course I did.” Harry responded, “I wouldn’t miss it for anything.”

“We were concerned that you wouldn’t be back in time.” Ron said softly.

“He absolutely refused to do this without you as his best man.” Luna said pleasantly.

“Ron.” Harry looked to his best friend with apologies in his eyes, “I’m sorry, mate. I had no idea.”

“Hey, what’s with the sudden buzz kill?” Ron patted his stomach, “I’m too full of sugars to be so serious.”

“He doesn’t like to talk about his man crush on you.” Luna giggled.

“It’s not a man crush.” Ron defended himself, “It’s mutual respect for my best mate.”

“Absolutely.” Harry agreed nodding, “Girls don’t understand it.”

“I guess not.” Luna grinned.

“So, Harry.” Ron played innocent, “You wanna ditch the ball and chain her and find a quiet place to make out?”

“Ron.” Harry stared wide eyed, “I thought you’d never ask.” The three of them laughed for a time before Luna handed Harry some papers.

“This is all the information on the rehearsal dinner and whatnot.” Luna said.

“Okay. Great.” Harry put the paperwork gently on his living room table.

“Now, with your…” Luna paused, “We won’t do this without you Harry. We just won’t. But we want to keep it quiet and simple.”

“Right. My high profile.” Harry said. Thinking about it for the first time, “That’s cool. No one but you guys know I’m in England again.”

“The wedding is still weeks away. Can you stay below the radar for that long?” Luna asked concerned, “I don’t want you hiding out like some kind of criminal on our account.”

“I won’t be. Magical London and Muggle London are like different worlds anyway.” Harry answered, “And in Muggle London they don’t stare when I walk by.”

“Well, if you’re sure.” Luna said delicately. Her concern for him evident. Harry just smiled warmly and patted her hand.

“I’ll be fine.” He said.

“Oh also!” Ron said as though he had suddenly remembered something important, “Mum and Dad were wondering when you were going to drop by the Burrow.”

“I’ll make the time.” He recalled those two fondly, “For them I will.”

“Good. Let me know when.” Ron smiled, “I’ll be sure to be there.”

The groups hung out until the mattress arrived. Ron made some really lame excuse to get out of helping with the grunt work before he winked and left. Harry tested the mattress before deciding it was perfect. It was much firmer than his old one. As soon as he felt he was finished with the moving he paid the men an headed for the shower.

* * *

Harry had put on what he considered his nicest clothes and headed for the ministry. He felt light when he neared her office. His knees felt weak and a weird bubble had risen from somewhere in his stomach to his throat. It wasn’t an unpleasant feeling, just not one he recognized. He had felt many things in his life. Joy, hope, fear, sorrow, despair, friendship, victory, defeat, nervous, confident, pride, humble, all but this feeling. He wasn’t sure what it was. It was like a weird mix of nervous and hopeful. He both enjoyed it and got a vibe of waiting for the other shoe to drop.

He knocked twice on her door and it swung open. She had a white sweater on that did wonders for her chest in an understated way. Her skirt was pale black, but clung to the right portions of her hips. Her stockings were black also. She had on sneakers. Her hair was hanging around her shoulders. It had little clips pushing the bangs out of her face and behind her ears. Harry thought she looked marvelous. He smiled a lopsided smile. She stared up at him for what felt like hours. Both of them just looking at each other with all of the thoughts of the last twenty-four hours surfacing.

“Harry.” Hermione said kindly, “You really need a new wardrobe.”

“It’s on my to do list.” He answered casually, “You look great.”

“Perk of the job.” She winked, “Business casual works for me, it turns out.”

“That it does.” He smiled before thrusting his arm out for her to take, “Shall we?”

“Well, if you insist.” She laced her arm through his, “We shall.”

Harry walked her out of the ministry through the same discreet way he had entered. Though they weren’t seen by many, and his longer hair was doing a very good job of keeping his famous face covered, they still walked very publicly through the halls. Hermione felt butterflies in her stomach. Regardless of the circumstances she was walking arm in arm with Harry Potter. There was a rightness to the situation that both of them felt. It was like his arm was always meant to hold hers.

When they made their way to a small muggle coffee house. Sitting on the outdoor patio they sipped their coffee and made small talk. An electricity was in the air around them, at all times.

“It’s been a weird kind of release for me to just change my apartment though.” Harry said in response to her question of what he was up to.

“I imagine.” She sipped from her cup, “You’ve really changed.”

“I know.” He put his hand behind hi head, “Everyone keeps saying that.”

“It’s not a bad thing.” She recovered, “I think we all just assumed that you would come back gloomy as ever. Your letters were so brief and you always seemed to be working.”

“You know, it did me good though.” Harry said contemplatively.

“It certainly seems to.” She smiled, “What brought you so out of your shell?”

“You know, being alone so often I’ve had time to think about it.” He paused thinking, “Because for a while I was pretty gloomy. I did my travels and did my work and then woke up and did it all again.”

“Sounds depressing.” Hermione commented.

“It was.” Harry nodded, “Then I started to look at the world around me. I saw such amazing things, and it opened me up in a way. I started to talk to the people around me.”

“You made friends?” She asked.

“Kind of.” Harry answered unsure, “It’s more like when you’re on holiday and you meet a Londoner. You’re like partners in crime. You hang out and you enjoy the sites and you kick back. But it all comes to an end eventually. But as I traveled, people started to pull me out of that too.”

“Like that family you stayed with? Or the people you went to Antarctica with?” She said knowingly.

“Yeah.” Harry nodded happily, “I really found myself being able to just be me. I wasn’t hiding from fame or covering anything. I could just be Harry. It was so freeing to be regular Harry Potter and not Wizard Harry Potter.”

“So you became free in a way.” She smiled.

“Different people react differently to some things.” He shrugged.

“Well it suits you.” She said happily.

“You know, that’s what I was going for.” He said fishing for a smile, he got it.

“I have an idea.” She said as Harry made an inquiring expression, “Let’s do something.”

“Sitting and drinking coffee isn’t doing it for you?” Harry kidded.

“Let’s go to the fountain!” She said excitedly.

“Let’s then.” Harry returned her enthusiasm.

Down the street from Harry’s flat was a large fountain. It was elegant but with a modern sensibility. Harry and Hermione had often gone there in the months after the war to look at it. They had found it relaxing. After Harry left she would sometimes walk down to it and peer at her reflection. As if she was waiting for him to appear behind her. The two walked down there and sat at the lip of it. Watching the water flow in the pool below them.

Harry watched as the water cascaded from the top of it to the bottom. He loved the way the water flowed. It reminded him of the great waterfalls he had seen in his time away. Hermione reached down and touched the water. It was cold. She reached up and slashed some on Harry’s face. He laughed and tossed some at her. Eventually the water fight escalated into both people ankle deep in the water splashing each other. They laughed and had a good time.

When the sun set they found their way back to Harry’s flat to warm up. Hermione sat with a cup of hot chocolate and swaddled in a robe on his sofa. Harry had gone into his bedroom to find her some of his old clothes to change into. When he came back he had changed into some of his old work clothes. A flannel shirt and jeans. Hermione wouldn’t say anything aloud, but the way he looked liked an outdoorsmen really did something wonderful to her. He handed her his extra clothes and she excused herself to his bedroom to change.

Once inside she turned on the light and closed the door. She told Harry in a joking way that he was not to peak. He said that he would try to contain himself. She began to pull her wet clothes from her body. Piece by piece she found herself standing in his room in her under things. She felt cold but in a weird way excited. She had once had a dream that began very much like this. She blushed and pushed the thought from her mind. She picked up his old shirt and held it to her chest for a size comparison.

Then she saw it. It was just a twinkle of light at first. Reflected into her face. The moonlight bouncing off of her face from the face of a frame on his bedside dresser. She moved closer. She had a moment of indecision about snooping around in Harry’s room. However, curiosity won out in the end. She put the shirt down on his bed and walked over to his dresser. She picked up the frame and knew it immediately. She had written this. She had put pen to paper and written that very note for him.

He had framed it. The implications rolled through her mind. She couldn’t imagine what that could mean. She wrote a letter saying she missed him. And he, Harry Potter, had framed it. A place of honor in his room among his many things. She put it down and sat on his bed. This was huge. This meant something. She didn’t know what it meant, but it meant something. Her mind was racing with thoughts about what it could be. Did he have deeper feelings for her than she thought, or was this just something that reminded him of home.

She must have been sitting there for a long time because she heard a soft knock at the door. She looked over and remembered suddenly where she was. Her mind was still swimming. She was so confused about it all. She made sure that she had put the frame back where she had found it before she answered.

“You okay in there, Hermione?” Harry’s voice came through muffled from the wood of the door, “Should I come in?” He sounded worried.

“Yeah.” She shook her head, “Come on in.” She stood up to welcome him.

The door swung open for about six seconds before it was closed again. In that time Harry looked in and saw her. His head got light. His eyes bulged. And he felt himself long to stare. He couldn’t allow that. So instead he swung the door closed again. He touched his heart to make sure it was racing as fast as he thought it was. He swallowed hard to regain his composure before he spoke.

“Okay, a little warning next time.” He announced nervously.

“What?” Hermione said softly. She looked down and saw her pale pink braw and her dark blue underwear. She blushed furiously, “Oh God, sorry Harry!”

“No, it’s okay…” He thought briefly about how okay he was with it, “If you don’t like the clothes though, there are better ways to illustrate your point.”

“Noted.” She answered with a blush so deep it had spread almost to her shoulders, “Sorry, I’m jus kind of absent minded sometimes.”

“There’s a dresser, that uhm..” He needed a moment, visions of her in her underwear were swimming through his head. Fantasies were beginning to manifest as rapidly as he could put them down, “Anyway, uh if you want other clothes there’s a dresser.”

“Okay.” She said shyly.

Harry walked out to his kitchen and poured himself a glass of water. He drank it quickly and poured himself another. While he re-hydrated she walked into the kitchen behind him. She had on a shirt that was a little too big and sweatpants. The dampness of her braw made it’s color stand out. When Harry turned around that was the first thing he noticed. He then saw the way her hair hung about her face in damp clumps. She looked like an angel to him.

She crossed the kitchen and apologized to him. After that the excitement died down. They returned to the living room and watched old movies until they fell asleep. Harry in his recliner and her on the couch. They were comfortable with each other in a very charming way. When morning came she put on her now dry clothes and began to leave. She saw him in his chair, resting peacefully and she moved over to him. Almost without thinking about she bent down and kissed his forehead.

She rose with a blush on her face. She suddenly got the feeling that she was crossing a line. She quickly made her way out of his apartment and back to her flat. The whole time feeling like she should have asked for permission. Feeling like she shouldn’t have done it in the first place. Her conflict fueled by the feelings inside of her. On one side he was her best friend, on the other he was so much more. She couldn’t reconcile her new feelings with her old ones. She worried she would never be able to. She made it to her room and collapsed on her bed. Her thoughts returned to the framed letter on his bedside dresser. She rolled over and groaned before screaming with giddy glee into her pillow. Something was moving around her. She could tell.

Meanwhile Harry woke up in his chair. His back and shoulders hurt worse than the day before. He acknowledged that it had been a mistake to fall asleep in a chair. His forehead felt warm and he had a pleasant feeling. He looked over to see if Hermione wanted to go get breakfast. She was gone. Suddenly his apartment felt colder, bigger and emptier. He dropped his head and sighed. She must have felt weird about last night he figured. He should never have opened the door he chastised himself.

Harry thought a shower would help his back, and perhaps lift his spirits. He stood against the on rushing water with his face in the stream. His mind was on fire with racing thoughts of both hope and disappointment. He left the shower when he realized it wasn't helping his back or his spirits. He got dressed and headed for the kitchen. He wasn't incredibly hungry and wound up eating a piece of toast and a glass of milk. He found put his dish in his sink and shuffled to his couch. He sat down and yawned once before he decided that he was too restless and bored to stay in the house all day.

He considering calling someone to go out with him, but the people he would want to see didn't have phones. Finally he decided to just go around to Ron and Luna's place. He didn't know which place they had eventually ended up sharing, his or hers, so he checked them both. The walk did him good. He had forgotten how dull it could be without something to do all day. He thought about getting a job, but he had more money than he could spend in a hundred lifetimes as it was. Still the fresh air was nice.

When he managed his way to the apartment where Luna once lived on her own he found that it occupied by a young couple and their infant child. They were on the balcony of the place, apparently just enjoying a day with the three of them together. Harry smiled as he looked at them. There was a part of him that liked the notion of having a family one day. He had spent much of his childhood trying to build himself a kind of surrogate family. Deep down he had always wanted one of his own. He spent a while looking at the happy family before he started to feel like he was invading their privacy and set off for Ron's apartment.

When he got there he found himself waiting outside for a few minutes. There was something about the way they were when they were together that made Harry feel empty. Still he knocked. He wondered if he should say something about last night. He would normally just ask Hermione, she was the best person with this sort of thing, but in this instance he thought that might be a poor idea. The door opened up with Luna on the other side. She smiled warmly and gave Harry a great big hug before inviting him in. She lead him through the apartment. It was larger than his. Ron had once shared it with both Neville and Seamus after the war. It looked as though those two had moved out. From What Harry recalled Seamus had wound up working in the Ministry while Neville taught Herbology at Hogwarts. Both could afford their own places these days.

Harry took a seat on a divan, which he found tremendously uncomfortable though he didn't say such. Luna returned from the kitchen with a plate of biscuits and some milk. Harry had a few but still wasn't terribly comfortable. He looked around for a tall man with bright red hair, but Ron wasn't there so he inquired.

“He's with Ginny.” Luna said knowingly, “She came around last night and told us about that bit of business between you two.”

“Right, that.” Harry said embarrassed, “I wasn't trying to cause a problem or anything.”

“You rarely do, way I recall it.” Luna smiled.

“Is Ron upset?” Harry wondered nervously

“No, we were just surprised.” Luna remarked slowly, “With everything that's gone on between you two, we all just thought a happy ending was in order.”

“I hate to disappoint.” Harry said coldly, “But my personal life is my own affair.”

“We don't think differently.” Luna defended, “We're just worried about you.”

“What did she say?” Harry asked suspiciously.

“Nothing bad. She said it all went down very nicely.” Luna said, “It's just, well we all went through so much with you, Harry. We were all there when it ended and we all remember how it weighed on you afterwards. Then you went away. For so long, Harry. Then you come back and you're happy and full of life. It was great, it really was, to see you that way.”

“I'm glad to hear that.” Harry said cautiously, “So you're worried about me now, because?”

“Because of the way you looked at Ron and me.” She blushed.

“What?” Harry asked surprised.

“When we came over.” She answered, “You had such a sad look on your face. I figured you were honest when you said you were jealous of us. But the first chance you get to have something with someone you throw it away.”

“I didn't throw it away.” He defended himself, “It just wasn't what I was looking for.”

“Is there someone else?” Luna asked with her ethereal smile plastered on her face.

“Not exactly.” Harry winced, “But...I don't know there was something last night.”

“Really? Luna said with her normal subdued interest, “What was it?”

“I had a moment with this girl.” Harry tried very hard not to use her name, “We played in this fountain. Like kids.” He smiled with a faraway look in his eyes, “It was great.”

“Sounds wonderful.” She patted his hand.

“It was.” His eyes suddenly grew dark, “But, I messed it up. I tried to play it so cool, I was starting to really feel something. Like I haven't felt before, You know. But I... Merlin, I'm such a fuck up.”

“That's a little harsh isn't it?” Luna protested.

“I accidentally walked in on her changing.” Harry confessed.

“Okay, yeah.” Luna nodded with a wince, “That's not the best thing that could ever happen.”

“The next morning she was gone. Without a word.” He lamented.

“You two?” Luna approached the subject with caution, “Did you..?” She moved her cupped hands together as a visual representation of her meaning.

“No.” Harry said quickly with great embarrassment, “No nothing happened. We're just friends.”

“Is that all?” Luna asked questioned, “Are you happy with that arrangement?”

“I try not to think about it.” Harry said, “But no, I'm not happy with it. I just don't know what to do about it.”

“You could tell her how you feel.” Luna offered.

“No, I can't.” Harry sighed, “She doesn't feel the same way.”

“How do you know until you ask?” Luna questioned.

“Because she's too good for me. She's too amazing.” Harry said getting frustrated trying to explain himself.

“You're Harry Potter!” Luna said as though she was explaining an equation to a physicist, “You're bloody amazing! How do you not realize these things? You must've been replaced with a spotted Gangritch at birth.”

“I can't!” Harry stood up, “She's too amazing, too wonderful. She's..She's.. Merlin! She's Hermione!” There was a slight moment of silence while Luna and Harry regained their composure.

“That is complicated.” Luna agreed.

“You're telling me.” Harry smiled, “What's a guy to do?”

“I honestly don't know.” Luna shrugged, “With everything. It's not the biggest surprise, there was always a kind of tension between you two. Anyone could see it.”

“Ultimately she chose another guy.” Harry pointed out, “Message received. Loud and clear.”

“True.” Luna smiled, “But it was Ron. You can hardly blame a girl for going for him.”

“Would you stop gushing over your fiancée for a minute.” Harry kidded.

“No problem.” Luna joked, “But maybe you shouldn't base your future so heavily on your past.”

“Why not?” Harry shrugged, “I'm the Boy-who-lived. My past has always had a good amount of pull over my future.”

“Don't go to that place again.” Luna warned, “You just got over being so dark and gloomy all the time.”

“I know.” Harry sat upright, “It's just the kind of conversation that makes you feel dark and gloomy.”

“I think you should talk to her.” Luna suggested, “It couldn't hurt to at least get it all off your chest.”

“I'll think about it.” Harry said honestly, “But don't think less of me if I never do it.”

“I won't.” Luna promised.

“And this business with me and Hermione.” Harry said confidently, “That's just between you and I, right?”

“Absolutely.” Luna crossed her heart with her finger.

“Thanks.” Harry smiled, “Do you want to do something? I'm terrible bored.”

“I have a lot to do around her.” Luna said, “There is a wedding coming up.”

“Yeah. Okay. I get that.” Harry shrugged.

“You could help out here if you like.” Luna said as she turned around to pull out a few folders from the desk next to her chair. When she turned back around Harry Potter was gone, her front door hanging open like in a cartoon, “Or not. I guess.”

* * *

When Hermione got back from lunch she found a note taped to her office door. It said only, “Sorry about last night. Forgive me? -H” She chuckled at his gesture. He was so sweet to her. When she opened her door she walked into a room filled with expensive first edition novels laid out in neat stacks and surrounded by flowers. She smiled a big glowing smile and spent the rest of her day happy. She had been beating herself up over that kiss on the forehead. Now it seemed so silly and so small. She had no idea that Harry had been so worried about that little incident. She was frankly surprised that in there many years of friendship that they had not seen each other in even more varied states of undress.

She left her office at five and decided not to go back home. She felt like too much was happening all at once to bother going home. She went around to Harry's but he wasn't in so she decided to go have a drink at the pub. She had one large mixed drink before she took the bus to her flat. When she opened the door she saw Ron sitting in the living room. Ginny was on the couch. Neither looked mad but they certainly didn't look happy. Hermione always having been the clever one had little trouble figuring out why Ron was there.

She hung up her coat and had a seat next to Ginny. Ginny smiled at her and leaned her head against her shoulder. Hermione patted her head and smiled back at her. Hermione thought Ginny was handling the situation very well. Ginny had spent most of Harry's three years away trying to date and having it get nowhere. She eventually settled on just enjoying an active nightlife. She had said that Harry was a tough act to follow, something which Hermione could understand. Still after her first night crying her eyes out she had been very comfortable with the notion of just friendship, though she still wasn't ready to face him.

“How are you, Ron?” Hermione inquired.

“I've been doing great.” Ron pointed to Ginny, “Just here for Gin. She's a real trooper.”

“Yes, she has been.” Hermione said with pride for her friend. Ginny squeezed her hand.

“I couldn't have gotten through it without Hermione.” Ginny said nicely, “She's been great.”

“Yeah?” Ron looked thankfully at Hermione, “Good on you.”

“Are you upset with Harry?” Hermione asked.

“No.” Ron smiled, “I've spent too long missing him to be angry with him.”

“Who knows how long he'll stick around this time.” Ginny said coldly.

“Stop that.” Ron reprimanded her.

“I'm sorry.” Ginny said genuinely, “I'm just being catty. Call it a phase.”

“It's understandable, Ginny.” Hermione said soothingly.

“Still, I'm sorry.” She said.

“Don't worry about it.” Ron said, “Though he's still out a plus one.”

“So it was you.” Hermione said amused, “Always the matchmaker, you are.”

“I'm a hopeless romantic.” Ron shrugged, “But you can't win them all.”

“I suppose so.” Hermione said quietly.

When Ron decided it was time to go Ginny excused herself to her room and Hermione was left sitting on the couch. She reached into her bag and pulled out one of the books she had brought home from the office. She turned to the first page and put it down. She couldn't concentrate on reading. Images of Harry blushing or sleeping swam through her head. Replaced in rapid turn around with images of a crying Ginny and a disappointed Ron. She felt a queasy movement in her stomach. She began to ring her hands together.

She got up and walked to the bathroom so she could look at herself in the mirror. Try to gain some perspective on everything. She remembered the framed note in Harry's bedroom. The way it was displayed with prominence in his room. She recalled holding Ginny until she fell asleep with tears still in her eyes. Suddenly the feeling in her stomach began to steadily increase until she was afraid that she would vomit. She had a looming sense of doom about her. She looked down and saw her hands shaking. She couldn't explain it. She was feeling like she was wading through murky water. Nothing seemed clear anymore. She looked up at the mirror and saw herself. She didn't know when it had begun but she was crying.

“Oh God.” Hermione whimpered before trudging down the hall and to her bed. She had been having such a wonderful day until then.

Author's Note: Okay, here's the new chapter. I'd like to thank my new Beta for the help with this chapter, which may be the least grammar issue ridden chapter I've ever done. Okay, well anyway, read and enjoy.

The new mattress was great. The tension which had been building in his shoulders while not totally gone was feeling much better. When Harry rose from his bed that morning he rolled his shoulders and enjoyed the ability to turn his head completely to the side before he headed for the bathroom to make his morning business and shower. He ran a razor over his chin before brushing his teeth. His shower felt heavenly and he had stayed in much longer than he had intended to. When finally he came out wrapped in a towel he went into the kitchen to make himself some breakfast.

He had just cracked an egg into his cast iron skillet when he heard the doorbell ring. He checked the knot in his towel to be sure that it was secure before walking to the door. He took a quick peek out the peephole and saw Hermione standing there. He opened the door a crack to say hello but she pushed the door open and walked inside. He pulled his towel up and followed her as she marched into the living room. She spun around with a serious look on her face and then promptly broke out laughing when she saw how he was dressed.

“That makes a man feel good.” He blushed.

“I'm sorry.” She said still chuckling, “I didn't expect to see you in such a state.” She smiled, “It's eleven in the morning, Harry. Did you just get out of the bath?”

“I don't have to work.” He defended himself, “I sleep in.”

“I can see that.”

Harry excused himself to go and get dressed and left her standing in his living room with only her thoughts and a very fine picture of a wet and half naked Harry. She smelled cooking so she wandered into the kitchen and saw that he was frying an egg. She turned it over and flipped it onto a plate without thinking much about it.

“So you barge in and steal my breakfast? I'm beginning to work out your master plan here.” Hermione jumped at his voice.

“I was putting it on a plate for you, goon.” She spun around to face him. He had thrown on a black tee shirt and blue jeans. He seemed to wear a lot of blue jeans these days.

“So what was the idea barging in anyway?” Harry asked with his hand placed exaggeratedly on his hip.

“It's been a weird day.” Hermione rolled her eyes, “My mum rang this morning to ask if I was taking anyone to Ron's wedding.”

“Why? She find someone for you to take?” Harry poked his egg yoke with a fork and grabbed a slice of bread.

“No, nothing like that.” Hermione sat on a kitchen chair and looked up at him with desperate eyes, “She just said I was getting awfully old to be not dating.”

“You're twenty-two.” Harry responded with a raised eyebrow.

“This much I told her, believe me.” She sighed.

“I do.” Harry said, “And hey, not to be all weird but who are you taking?”

“Right now?” Hermione bit her lower lip, “Would it be weird to say I planned to go stag?”

“No, I guess, with you being the ex and all.” Harry shrugged.

“Well, yeah. I suppose there is that.” Hermione played with her fingers, “Also, you know...” She trailed off.

“Yes?” Harry sat a chair beside her with his breakfast.

“No one's asked me yet.” She muttered while looking down at her feet.

“Hmm. That's odd.” He shoveled some egg into his mouth.

“What's odd about it?” Hermione said wide eyed.

“Nothink bad or nothink.” Harry said with mouth full, “Jus' tha' I always fought you-”

“Chew and swallow please.” Hermione put her hand up and winced, “I don't need that close a look at your breakfast.”

“'Kay.” Harry swallowed everything in his mouth in one huge gulp, “Better?”

“Much.” Hermione nodded.

“Okay, I was saying that it's odd because you always seemed like a catch to me.” He said much more confidently than he felt.

“That's perfectly lovely of you to say, really.” Hermione blushed, “But you may be alone in that sentiment.”

“Now that's bullshit.” Harry pointed at her, “You ma'am are a catch. Smart and beautiful. Any guy would be lucky to have you.”

“Beautiful?” She looked at him with anticipation.

“That's what I said.” Harry nodded.

“Wow.” She put her hand on her cheek, “You've never called me that before. Pretty? Sure. You've called me pretty. Beautiful, though, that's new.”

“I picked up a thesaurus.” Harry joked, “Stick around I got loads of polysyllabic words these days.”

“You're incorrigible.” She smiled.

“Okay, that's one I'll have to look up.” Harry laughed.

“It means not easily changed.” Hermione answered.

“You calling me stubborn?”

“That's one way to think of it.” She pulled his plate close to her and picked out a piece of egg and plopped it into her mouth.

“You did come to steal my breakfast.” Harry pointed with faux suspicion.

“You caught me.” She put her hands up in front of her chest.

“So why'd you stop by?” Harry changed tracks.

“Like I said, it was a rough morning.” She answered, “Thought you could cheer me up.”

“You don't work today?” Harry asked.

“Nope. Not today.” Hermione sat back in her chair, “My vacation has started.”

“Your vacation?” The last of his breakfast eaten he got up and began washing his plate.

“Yeah, it'll go right up until Hogwarts opens again.” Hermione tried not to look at his rump, “That way I can lounge around with you until Ron's wedding.” She caught her word choice, “Or whatever. Just thought you might want some company, unemployed guy.”

“I would actually.” Harry called over his shoulder, “What ever possessed you to work all though summer break is beyond me.”

“ A girl's got to keep busy.” She waved her hand dismissively, “How you can just hang around here all day is beyond me. Have you looked into getting some work?”

“Nope.” Harry threw his dish towel over his shoulder and sat down, “Though lately I've been thinking about it.”

“Well, if you'd like I can get you an interview with the Auror board?” Hermione said.

“No, I don't think so.” Harry shrugged.

“Really?” Hermione frowned, “You always wanted to be an Auror.”

“That was then.” Harry began.

“And this is now?” Hermione finished, “What changed your mind?”

“It's not a terribly long story.” Harry remarked, “I think I've just done enough fighting, you know?”

“There's probably truth in that.” Hermione said, “You could always teach.”

“Teach what? Defense?” Harry shuddered, “That's a dangerous job way I recall it.”

“Not anymore.” Hermione said quickly, “We just have to fill the position because the last professor just retired.”

“McGonagall still headmaster?” Harry inquired, “If so I just might look into it.”

“She'd be thrilled to have you, Harry.” Hermione clapped her hands together, “I'll send her an owl tomorrow!”

“Well, let's not be so hasty.” Harry put his hands up, “I wasn't saying I was absolutely going to do it.”

“School year is coming up awfully soon.” Hermione insisted, “Besides, wouldn't it be great to be there together again? Like the old times again.”

“It would.” Harry shrugged, “It would also be a pleasant change from my normal jobs.”

“So?” Hermione asked hopefully.

“So?” Harry smiled, “Explain to me how that's an actual question.”

“Stop being such a man.” Hermione giggled, “Will you just answer.”

Harry leaned back in his chair and put on a very contemplative expression. He sat back for an agonizingly long time. Hermione was getting to the point where the suspense had gone from gleeful to annoying and still Harry milked it. She could tell he was enjoying watching her squirm so she slapped him playfully on the arm. He smiled and laughed a little before leaning forward in his chair again.

“Go ahead and send the owl.” He rubbed his arm where she had slapped him, “If you're going to slap me around about it.”

“If the world could see their savior now.” Hermione laughed.

“I never called myself that.” Harry defended himself.

“No, no you didn't.” Hermione looked at him coyly, “You're much too modest, you know that right.”

“I'd like to think it's endearing.” He said putting on false bravado. Hermione put her hand on his hand and looked in his eyes.

“It is.”

Harry blushed as she looked into his eyes. She seemed to probe him. Reaching into his greatest depths. There they sat, looking at each other. A feeling of indescribable magnitude welling up in both of them.

“Thank you.” Harry said finally.

“Don't mention it.” Hermione said still unable to look away.

Harry moved in slightly. Mostly out of instinct. Her eyes widened before she closed them. Instinct guiding them closer and closer. Her lips quivered as they waited for his. She felt the warmth of his face growing on hers. A small part of her heart fluttered. His eyes snapped open as he realized what he was about to do. She was his best friend, a person he could never treat in that way. If only for fear of the consequences. If only because he was afraid of what she would say to him. Last second he moved his lips to the right and kissed her lightly on the cheek. Her eyes opened with mounting disappointment. Harry pulled away from her and composed his thoughts. He had to recover quickly from what had almost happened. He couldn't be shot down by Hermione. He knew it would destroy him.

“You're too nice.” Harry smiled.

“I appreciate it.” Hermione rubbed her cheek with a faraway look in her eyes.

Harry got up to get a glass of water. Suddenly, and for reasons which he was beginning to put together his mouth had become dry and fuzzy. Hermione took a few quiet and discreet breaths to steady herself. She wasn't sure about what had just happened. She wasn't sure if he had been about to kiss her or if she had imagined it, but no matter what else she couldn't deny what had happened inside of her. Harry drained his first glass quickly and poured himself another. He brought it back to the table and sat down, but this time he sat across from her. He was afraid to tempt fate.

“So, what were your plans for the day?” Hermione asked.

“I was thinking of going out to visit the Burrow.” Harry shrugged.

“Molly and Arthur!” Hermione sat up, “It's been ages since I saw them.”

“Would you like to come along?” Harry asked.

“If you don't mind?” Hermione said.

“Not at all.” Harry began, “Actually I was hoping someone would want to come with me. I don't really want to get too caught up there. I still have to plan Ron's bachelor party.”

“Well, we'll make up a sign.” Hermione said smartly, “You can signal me when you think it's time to go and I'll make up an excuse.”

“Okay, great.” Harry said, “But nothing too obvious. Maybe I'll just touch my elbow.”

“Sure, that'll work.” Hermione grinned.

Hermione put her hand out for him to take. He took it and together they appeared outside the Burrow. Harry walked up to the kitchen door and knocked. Mrs. Weasly answered the door and spotted Harry. She shrieked and pulled him into a great big hug. Harry hugged her back with a bright smile on his face. He didn't remember her being so short, but other than that she was just the same as he recalled. After she was through with Harry she moved on to Hermione. She swept Hermione practically off her feet in a great big hug. Then she showed Harry and Hermione in.

She sat them at her big table and began to ready them something to eat. The whole time regaling them with stories about how the family was growing, and how excited she was about Ron and Luna's pending nuptials. Harry glanced over and saw the old clock on the wall. Their were many names scrawled on it. The names of her children and her husband and the hands that pointed toward places they were. One name was darkened and the arrow was shriveled. Harry's eyes found the name. Fred. His heart sank as the old wound opened.

He moved his eyes from the clock face to see Hermione watching him. She put his hand in hers and squeezed it. He gave her a half smile to let her know he was okay. She smiled back at him. The moment was interrupted when Mrs. Weasly set a large plate of sandwiches on the table next to their clasped hands.

“It's good to see the two of you together like this.” Molly said. The two looked at their hands. They pulled them apart and hide them in their laps, “I always thought you two were such a cute little couple.”

“We're not dating, Mrs Weasly.” Hermione said so quickly it hurt Harry's feelings.

“No.” He said looking at his feet, “We're not.”

Molly looked at the two of them and sighed. Perhaps it was Mother's intuition, but she had those two figured out completely. She sighed slowly at the thought of how long she would have to wait for them to stop living in denial. It was always such a head ache waiting for young people to figure things out. So instead she changed the subject. They made small talk at first before gradually moving onto other subjects. Molly convinced Harry not to throw Ron a party that was too out of control and she invited them over for dinner any night. When Arthur came home later they all reminisced about times gone by and had a lot of laughs.

Eventually Arthur excused himself and Harry out to the garage so he could show him some of the new muggle things he had picked up. Molly brought Hermione some hot chocolate at the table and sat down next to her. Hermione thanked her. Molly rubbed her arm.

“He'll figure it out sweetie.” Molly said.

“No, he won't.” Hermione smiled miserably.

“Then tell him.” Molly suggested.

“I can't.” Hermione answered, “I really, I shouldn't.”

“Why, dear?” Molly took her hand, “It's not something that gets better. It just grows and hurts more.”

“I know, I'm an expert in it.” Hermione tried to laugh it off.

“Then why torture yourself?” Molly asked.

“Well, in part because of Ginny.” Hermione said with caution, “She still has feelings for him.”

“Hermione, dear.” Molly began, “Ginny is my daughter and I love her, but she's in love with who Harry was. Not who he is.”

“I know. She knows. But it's still weird.” Hermione explained.

“Perhaps, but she's a good kid, she'll understand.” Molly said warmly, “And if not I'll shout until I'm blue in the face.”

“I'd love to see that.” Hermione smiled.

“I'd do it too.” Molly promised.

“I believe it.” Hermione giggled.

“So what other excuses do you have?” Molly asked.

“I don't know...” Hermione tried to find the words and eventually just gave up, “He's Harry Potter. Hero. Powerful Wizard. Harry Potter.” Her head dropped to her chest, “And I'm bookish little Hermione Granger. Bad hair, big teeth Hermione Granger.” Molly smiled and let out a small laugh at Hermione's sentiment.

“Maybe you'll figure it out one day too.” She said wisely.

“Maybe I will.” Hermione misinterpreted.

When Harry returned from the garage the very first thing he did was rub his elbow like he had a rash. Hermione smiled and made an excuse to Molly about having to get up early to send an owl off to Hogwarts. Molly smiled knowingly and bid them a fond farewell, complete with hugs and kisses on both cheeks for the two of them. Arthur reinforced the standing invitation of dinner and the two departed. They appeared in a darkened alley a short walk from Hermione's flat. They talked about all manner of things on the walk. She laughed at all the right jokes and smiled at all the right stories. They held hands when they had to cross traffic and would occasionally not let go for long periods of time. When the wind picked up Hermione leaned into him for warmth. He would be lying is he claimed not to enjoy it. When finally they arrived in front of Hermione's apartment building it was a quarter to midnight.

“This was fun.” Hermione said as she shivered slightly in the wind.

“It was.” Harry agreed, “We'll have to do it again some time.”

“We should.” Hermione smiled.

They both waited there for awhile though they weren't sure what for. They just both felt that the night was somehow incomplete. Hermione stood in the wind and wrapped her arms around herself. Harry stood watching the small particles float lazily through the beams of the streetlights. Finally Harry gave Hermione a warm friendly hug to say goodnight. As he was pulling away she kissed his cheek. It was a lingering kiss. It spread a kind of warmth and electricity through his body. He touched his cheek where she had kissed him. A slow lazy smile formed on his face. Hermione said goodnight and walked slowly up the path to her apartment building. She looked back once and smiled at him coyly. He waved to her. She waved back, folding her fingers twice over her palm.

When she was gone Harry just stood with his hand on his cheek. The thing growing inside of his heart was beginning to scream. His mind was beginning to put together the secret he had been working out over the last few days. He shook it all from his head. He should know better. He stuck his hands in his pockets and set off towards his own apartment. His head was swimming with emotions he couldn't explain or simply didn't want to. He tried to put it out of his mind when he made it back to his flat and into his bed. He fell into an uneasy sleep with visions of a beautiful bushy haired woman floating just out of reach behind his eyelids.

Author's Note: Sorry about how long this took to get out, Work has been consuming so much of my time lately that I just have not had time to sit down and write in forever. Once again a big thanks to my Beta. As always enjoy.

Harry Was scribbling out invitations so quickly that his hand was hurting. The friction produced from paper and skin was leaving unpleasant marks and his joints were stiff. Still, in the twenty minutes since he had started he had gotten a letter out to every one invited to Ron's bachelor party. After the last letter was off he rose from his kitchen table and stretched his legs. After flexing his fingers to get the blood back into them he decided to go around to Ron's flat to let the honored guest know when his party was going to be. He grabbed his keys from the jar near his door and hit the brisk London streets.

When he turned up at Ron's he was let in and directed to the couch in the living room. Luna was away at work and Ron was taking a break from his novel. Ron sat with him and joked around for awhile but before long Harry was telling him about the party. Harry told him that he was going to have it at the pub down the street from Harry's house. He had rented out the entire bar for the evening, he also said that there wouldn't be anything deviant on the agenda for the night. Ron agreed that it was for the best. The played a few games of wizard chess, which Harry lost profoundly. After a time Harry got up and said goodbye.

When he was out on the streets of London once more he didn't feel like going home. He found himself walking down side streets and exploring the city he had once known so well. He stopped by the apartment he had seen the other day but the family wasn't there. A knot twisted in his stomach for reasons he didn't understand completely. He shook his head to clear the haze he noticed building. He stuck his hands in his pockets and started walking. He let his mind wander. He remembered his dorm room back at Hogwarts: the secret little places around the room that he would stash things in, the games played with the other guys, the late night conversations with Ron about all things young man. He recalled the long talks about quidditch and difficult classes and the varied portions of wizard culture that he had never known about.

He remembered a conversation about girls. They had lamented the puzzling actions of girls they were attracted to and described the lewd actions they would like to take with those very same girls. The ghost of a smile graced his face. He remembered the winding corridors and the moving staircases of his old school. The place had been a kind of home to him, one that he missed very much. It was in those halls that his greatest memories were formed. It was in those halls that his worst memories were formed. He recalled the night of the battle for Hogwarts. It had once been such a raw point in his mind. Like an exposed nerve whenever he touched it he had recoiled in pain.

That was in the past. He was a different man now. The memories were no less horrible, but he no longer blamed himself for what had happened. He had accepted so many things in the last three years. Suddenly Harry stopped. He had been walking on autopilot for the last twenty minutes. Somehow, as though his feet knew the way better than his mind he found himself standing in front of her building. His eyes moved to the window he knew to be Hermione's. He steeled his will and decided to walk up and say hello.

When he had reached the third floor flat he knocked four times on her door and waited. When it swung open the face that greeted him was not Hermione's. This face was smaller, rounder and had far more freckles.

“Harry?” Ginny said flabbergasted.

“Ginny?” Harry retorted in very much the same way.

“What...” Ginny started before shaking her head and trying again, “What are you doing here?”

“I was... I was going to see if Hermione was home... what, um... What are you doing here?” He rubbed his neck.

“I live here, Harry.” Ginny raised her eyebrow, “Me and Hermione are flatmates.”

“Right. Of course.” Harry said with a dumb smile before adding under his breath, “Why wouldn't you be.”

“Do you want to come in?” Ginny's voiced sounded a little strained to him, “She's in the shower, but she should be out shortly.”

“Yeah. Sure, that would be great.”

Ginny opened the door and Harry stepped in. Everything about the apartment felt feminine, right down to the sweet smells of the place. There were plants and flowers on every window frame. In the living area, which included a kitchenette, there was a large bookcase against the far wall. In the opposite corner there was a large collection of trophies and other sporting paraphernalia. It wasn't a great stretch to tell what belonged to which roommate. An acoustic guitar was propped up against the chair Harry had sat in. He pointed to the guitar.

“Do you play?” He asked casually.

“No, neither of us do.” Ginny smiled, “Luna got it for us when we moved out. She said every apartment should have an acoustic guitar.”

“Yeah.” Harry shook his head amused, “Sounds like her.”

“Do you?” Ginny asked.

“Play?” Harry questioned, “Yeah, a little.”

“Something you picked up on your travels?”

“Movies and books started to cost too much money.” Harry explained, “Guy has to entertain himself.”

“Play something.” Ginny urged him.

“I'm not really...” Harry began. But Ginny just stood up and pressed the guitar to his chest.

“Play something.” She insisted.

Harry's heart sank at her candor. He sighed and strummed the cords once before he started to re-tune the guitar. Once he had it back into playing condition he searched out the right pitch and began to play the song he knew the best. It was a classic muggle song, which he hoped Ginny wouldn't mind. Slowly the mournful melody began to take shape. He looked over and saw Ginny nodding. He hoped his singing wouldn't put her off as he began. He closed his eyes and let the music take him back to the car he was in as a child when first he had heard the song.

“Words are flowing out like endless rain into a paper cup,
They slither wildly as they slip away across the universe
Pools of sorrow, waves of joy are drifting through my open mind,
Possessing and caressing me.”

He sang as Ginny's foot tapped along to the mournful beat of the song,

“Jai guru deva, om
Nothing's gonna change my world,
Nothing's gonna change my world.
Nothing's gonna change my world.
Nothing's gonna change my world.

Images of broken light which dance before me like a million eyes,
They call me on and on across the universe,
Thoughts meander like a restless wind inside a letter box
They tumble blindly as they make their way
Across the universe
Jai guru deva, om,
Nothing's gonna change my world,
Nothing's gonna change my world.
Nothing's gonna change my world.
Nothing's gonna change my world.”

Harry listened as the methodical guitar rhythm reverberated off the walls of the room. Ginny nodded him to encourage that he continue. Harry closed his eyes once more and strummed out the rest of the song,

“Sounds of laughter shades of life are ringing
Through my opened ears inciting and inviting me
Limitless undying Love which shines around me like a
million suns, and calls me on and on
Across the universe
Jai guru deva, om,
Nothing's gonna change my world,
Nothing's gonna change my world.
Nothing's gonna change my world.
Nothing's gonna change my world.

Jai guru deva
Jai guru deva
Jai guru deva
Jai guru deva”

As soon as the song ended he watched as Ginny sat back in a pleased awe. He rested the guitar on his lap and smiled at her. She smiled back.

“What was that?” She asked happily.

“The Beatles.” Harry responded, “Across the Universe.”

“It's lovely.”

“It was always one of my favorites.” He said, pleased.

“I've never heard it before.” She gushed.

“It's a classic in the muggle world. It's a lot simpler than the wizard music I've heard, but it's..” He struggled for the word.

“Haunting.” Hermione added from somewhere behind him. He spun his head around to see her wrapped in a towel with her wet hair hanging down over her bare shoulders, “I haven't heard that song in years.”

“Hermione!” Harry stood up and looked in the other direction. Ginny cast him a surprised glance before her eyes rested on Hermione. A knowing smile spread across her face, “I didn't realize you were out of the shower.”

“Just got out.” She blushed, “Let me, um... Let me get changed. Wait here.”

Hermione disappeared around the corner, her footsteps could be heard as she raced down the hall to get dressed. Harry sat back down, sliding into the armchair with a groan and a defeated grimace. Ginny smiled at him. Her eyes saw through him in a way that left him feeling oddly vulnerable, and perhaps a little upset. He put his head down on his chest as the blush kept growing brighter and brighter.

“How long was she there?” Harry asked quietly.

“Since 'images of broken light' I think.” She answered.

“You could have told me.” He said darkly.

“I suppose that's true.” She wrinkled her nose and stuck out her tongue, “But where's the fun in that?”

“That was mean.” He looked up at her with hurt eyes, “We're supposed to be friends.”

“Is that what we're supposed to be, Harry?” She accused, “Because it seems to me that you broke my heart and haven't spoken to me in forever since then.”

“I didn't mean to hurt you, Gin.” He tried to defend himself before she raised her hand to cut him off.

“Over it.” She said dismissively, “I needed time to digest anyway.”

“You're mad at me, aren't you.” Harry asked pleadingly.

“I was, Harry.” She said softly, “I cried forever. I really did. It was a mess, and yes I looked terrible.”

“I wasn't going to say.” Harry smiled.

“But that was then.” She countered, “This is now. And now, I see the providence of your decision.”

“What?” He looked stunned.

“You were right.” She shook her head with a smile, “The Harry I was in love with didn't play guitar and he damn sure didn't blush and look away. He had way more confidence.”

“I did not.” Harry joked.

“The thing I realized, and it was Ron, if you can believe it, ” Ginny rolled her eyes, “that said it best. He said, 'You fell for a boy fighting a war, not a man that roams the world.' It made me feel better.”

“I knew I kept him around for something.” He smiled.

“So you have my blessing.” She smiled.

“For what?” Harry asked.

“For what?” Ginny laughed.

“Did I say something stupid?” He raised an eyebrow.

“Apparently not.” She said with a few more chuckles filling in her words, “But you better do so soon, she's not going to wait around forever.”

“Who?” He pressed.

“You can't be this thick?” She said aghast, “I'll talk to you later, Harry. Thank you for playing for me.”

“No problem.” He said, bewildered, as she got up and patted his shoulder before walking out of the room.

Harry sat alone in the room staring at the wall trying to figure out what had happened and why he felt so stupid all of a sudden. He only had a few seconds in his confusion before Hermione showed back up in a pretty blue sun dress. Harry stood up to greet her with a handshake which she thought was going to be a hug. The two ended up doing a strange little awkward dance as both changed positions several times to match the other one's attempted greeting before they settled on a brief hug

Harry couldn't help noticing, even in that brief span of time, how wonderful she smelled. Maybe it was the freshness of the soap on her skin or maybe it was the strange feelings he had been having lately, but he found her positively addictive. When the hug ended they shared a short talk before heading out the door. Harry recommended they get lunch at a little Thai place down the street and she agreed and they were off.

The sun was out and the weather was nice so they decided to get their food to carry out. They found a park bench and had a seat to eat. The weather was nice out for a change, and with little small talk the two began to consume their meals. Harry was enjoying the warm sun on his face and the warm body on the bench beside him, secretly treasuring every accidental instant when she would shift and touch his thigh with hers; the moments when hands touched as both reached for something close together had become his favorite part of the day. Harry was eating some of his rice when she asked about the song.

“Oh that?” He said with his mouth half full, “Ginny found out that I play guitar.”

“I didn't know that.” She looked down, “You play very well. When did you learn?”

“Maybe two years ago?” He scratched his head, “Hard to say. One of the other farmhands at the time taught me the basic cords and the rest I just sort of got through practice.”

“You learned to play by ear?” She asked.

“Mostly.” He smiled, “Though I did buy a song book once, but the problem turned out to be that I couldn't read music.”

“Smooth.” She giggled.

“I never claimed to be perfect.” He nudged her with his shoulder.

“That's what sort of makes you perfect.” She nudged him back.

“You're awfully complimentary today.” He grinned.

“You're awfully full of surprises today.” She responded pleasantly.

“Speaking of surprises.” He transitioned, “I've had some time to think about the teaching position.”

“And?” She said nervously.

“I think I'll take you up on it.” He answered.

“That's wonderful!” She sprang forward and hugged him, spraying the remains of their lunch across the ground. She jumped back and began to apologize profusely about the incident.

“No worries.” He waved off her concern, “I'm filthy rich.”

They laughed at the absurdity of the statement for a long while before they got up and began to walk off to spend the rest of the day together.

Harry couldn't imagine feeling happier, more contended. He and Hermione were walking through the park together when for she spontaneously she reached out and found his hand waiting for hers. It was such a weirdly casual movement; he had extended his hand on pure instinct and as if response she had taken it. They had held hands before, but every other time it began out of necessity. There was a street to be crossed or a crowd to avoid being lost in. This was different, this was pure reaction. The need did not arise in a practical sense, it had been a more intimate need this time around.

Suddenly the gears that had been grinding in Harry's head since he had gotten her first letter came to a halt. A thought forced it's way, screaming with pent up desire, to the forefront of his mind. I love her. The world finally made sense. Everyone's cryptic suggestions now became clear. All the times he had set out to go somewhere and had ended up with her, the weird knotted feeling when he saw that family from the street, his guilt and his embarrassment, all of it. The last four years of his life were now seen with a crystal clarity he had never imagined only moments before.

He cast her a furtive glance to see if anything had shifted her notions about the world. She smiled sweetly at him. He noted how amazing she was, from her wonderfully cunning eyes to her delicate yet powerful form. Nothing about her demeanor, however, gave even the slightest suggestion that she was feeling what he was. He couldn't know that she was far more practiced than him at hiding it. She had become used to how tantalizingly close they had become, both physically and emotionally. Still when Harry saw her composure completely intact he sunk inside himself a little, afraid she was not in love with him, afraid he had blown his chance with her and ended up as a brother and not someone she could love.

He squeezed her hand and dropped his head. The sun was setting by the time they reached his flat. They had spent the entire day talking and goofing off. Going from place to place and enjoying themselves in each other's company. When the day began to turn cold, Harry offered to make them hot chocolate back at his flat and she agreed. When they reached the landing before his door he finally let go of her hand so he could take his keys from his pocket. He fumbled with the lock for much longer than usual.

When the door to his flat opened to them Hermione walked forward with the casual speed of someone used to entering a place. When Harry made it inside he suddenly began a mad dash to straighten up his flat. He very soon had a pile of random things in his arms that he began to carry to his room. Hermione crossed her arms and stared at him.

“What are you doing?” She smiled at him.

“I'm tidying up?” He hesitated at the door to his bedroom.

“This I got.” She chided him, “Why though?”

“I..” Harry considered it, “I honestly haven't a clue.” He shrugged.

“Well, do hurry.” She grabbed her shoulders and shook herself an exaggerated shiver, “I'm freezing and you promised me hot chocolate.”

“Right, right.” Harry threw the items into his bedroom and hurried toward his kitchen, “Okay, we have regular, extra chocolaty and the kind with those horrible Styrofoam marshmallow things.”

“I'll just have regular.” She sat at the kitchen table as he put some water in the pot, “So, you decided who you're taking to the wedding?”

“Um.” Harry muttered, “I thought we were going to go stag, as a statement or whatever.”

“No, I'm going stag.” She pointed out, “Because no one invited me, you don't have that sort of problem. You're famous.”

“So are you.” He turned his head and grinned.

“Maybe so, but you're Harry Potter famous.” She winked, “You not having a date is just laziness.”

“When you're good at something.” He joked.

“Seriously, though.” She began, “Any idea who you'd like to take?”

“I.. well..” He stuttered out, the conversation was suddenly making him very nervous, “There, um, there is one person.”

“Really now?” Hermione sat forward and put her chin in her hands, “What's she like?”

“She's...” Harry paused, “She's wonderful but she doesn't think so. She's so smart, but she acts like a kid around me. She's beautiful, but she doesn't see it.”

“Sounds amazing.” Hermione said flatly, “Why don't you ask her?”

“Because she...” Harry shook his head, “This goddamn stove needs attention.”

“What?” Her eyes went wide.

“It takes for-fucking-ever to cook something. I'm over here trying to boil water and it's being all-” He stuck his tongue out and blew a raspberry to illustrate his point.

“Would-” She duplicated his raspberry, “be your professional opinion?”

“It's all highly technical.” He nodded in mock seriousness, “It's not something bandied about by the uninitiated.”

“I wouldn't imagine so.” She giggled.

Her laugh was suddenly so much more important to him. He felt his cheeks burn a crimson red and turned back to the pot on the stove. His composure was beginning to fail him. His feelings were yelling at him, demanding to be announced. She stood up and crossed the kitchen. She put her hands on his shoulders and peeked over his arm to see the pot.

“It really is taking a long time, isn't it.” She commented.

“That's what I'm saying.” He refused to look at her. The contact was driving him insane.

“Well it ought to be hot enough, even if it does refuse to boil.” She said passively, too passively as far as Harry was concerned.

“You're right.” He moved the pot from the stove and poured steaming water into two mugs. He then shook the chocolate packs into each and stirred them with a small spoon.

“I'm actually excited about this hot chocolate.” She remarked as she once more took her seat, “How boring am I?”

“I'm excited too.” He comforted her, “I'm over here shaking like a kid.”

“I noticed.” She smiled.

“Well, here we are.” He set her mug down in front of her and took a seat across the table from her.

She blew several times on the surface of her drink before taking a small sip. She smiled and nodded to indicate it was good. Harry was so consumed watching her lips purse to drink that he didn't even think about how hot the drink might be. He took a sip and the steam reached the back of his throat forcing him to let out a throaty grunt as the heat choked him up. He set the mug down and Hermione laughed at him. His face turned red and he laced his fingers.

“It's not that funny.” He said pleasantly.

“That's because you-” She cut herself off with more laughter, “That's because you weren't watching it.” She managed to finish.

“I suppose not.” He rubbed the back of his neck, “So I was wondering if you were going to come to Ron's bachelor party?”

“Aren't those things a y chromosome only kind of affair?” She raised her eyebrow.

“Usually.” He shrugged, “But you're important to me.” His eyes went wide and he hurried to add to his thought, “And Ron.”

“So long as I'm important to you.” She mimicked his very slight pause, “And Ron.”

“I misspoke.” He defended himself.

“I'm sure you did.” She grinned, “But at any rate, I'll put in an appearance. I'm certainly not staying for the testosterone fueled male bonding.”

“You don't want to male bond?” He kidded her.

“I didn't say that, I'm just not in the market for anymore friends.” She grinned, “Especially big smelly, cootie infested boys.”

“That's true.” Harry said thoughtfully, “You would need a cootie shot, it's going to be pretty intense. We're going to punch each other in the face and neck repeatedly to establish dominance.”

“How can a girl miss that?” She joked, “But seriously, I have to go to Luna's party that night. I'll stop in and say hi. You coming to Luna's?”

“I'll be turned pink for life if I breathe in that much estrogen.” He mocked.

“Wouldn't want to get rid of your healthy tan.” She commented sarcastically.

“I worked hard on this tan.” He pouted.

“I'm sure you did, it doesn't stand out at all among your pale friends or the pale Londoners or anything.” She winked.

“Well, it'll fade.” Harry shrugged, “Besides I like it.”

“Anything's better than that horrible beard you had.” She teased.

“I kind of liked that too.” He confessed.

“You would.” She flicked some hot chocolate at him.

“So about going stag and everything.” He said with caution.

“What of it?”

“Well, I was thinking.” He tried his best to return her casual tone, “Since you have no one to go with, and I have no one to go with... maybe you'd like to be my plus one?”

“Are you asking me to go to Ron's wedding with you?” She stared at him.

“I was, um... Yes.” He stammered out, “That is if you're interested.”

“Harry, I've been waiting for you to ask me.” She jumped up and hugged him across the gap, “You're so dense! I thought you'd never ask!”

Harry smiled at her as she looked down into his eyes. Her laughter was infectious, her smell overwhelmingly wonderful. She was sitting in his lap. That very fact drove him into dangerous territory. Harry didn't think about the possibilities. He didn't think about the meaning or the difficulties of his decision. He steeled himself and lifted his head toward her. He touched his lips to hers gently. It was nothing more than a tiny brush of skin to skin, if not for the electricity. He felt her lean into him. He had expected resistance. He had thought that she might be shocked or repulsed. Instead she embraced it. Her lips parted slightly and his bottom lip passed between them.

When it was over they parted from one another. Harry opened his eyes and saw Hermione with her hand on her lips and a deep blush spread across her face.

“Did that just happen?” She choked out.

“I.. I didn't mean to, it was just-” He stammered.

“I'm so sorry.” She said quickly.

“Sorry?” He responded.

“I didn't mean to kiss-” She stood up and started to make her exit, “It just came over me, I must seem such a fool.”

“But-” He tried to interject but she kept rambling.

“I didn't want to make you feel weird, you know? I didn't get up this morning and set out to destroy what we have, I just..” She raced for the door.

“Wait, no... I-” He was still trying to get a word in edgewise as he chased her to the door.

“I'll just leave, okay?” She mumbled, “I'll go, I'm so sorry.”

“But-”

It was as if a hurricane had swept through his flat. He stood in the disarray. His door was closed and he was alone. His hand still reaching out for her.

“I kissed you.” He said softly to no one.

* * *

Four days had passed since she had fled from his flat. He had gone round her flat, but she was never in. Ginny grilled him about what he had done. Apparently Hermione was upset. Harry had tried to apologize a million times, he had written letter after letter. He had even tried to phone her, but it turned out they had never gotten one installed in their flat. He spent most of his days trying to figure out what had happened and what it all meant. He kept replaying it in his head and coming to the same conclusions.

“Women are fucking insane.” He mused as he shuffled from his bathroom to his couch.
He turned the volume up tried to concentrate on the daytime television. He found it totally impossible. He was ever running that one moment over and over in his head. It was beginning to make him crazy. He had sat down the first day and deduced that he was in fact so insane that he had made his way back to sanity. He turned off the Telly. He was getting sore from sitting around. He figured he would grab his coat and brood outside for a change.

He grabbed his keys and opened his door. On his way down the steps he ran into Ron. Ron had a look of urgency about him that Harry had not seen in a long time. He got the feeling that little else he said would matter, Ron was there to talk to him regardless of excuses or recent personal turmoil.

“Hey, Ron.” Harry gave a slight half wave.

“The man I was coming to see!” Ron smiled at him, “You busy? Because There was something I wanted to talk to you about.”

“I sort of figured.” Harry shrugged, “I was going to go for a walk, clear my head. You're welcome to join.”

“There you go, dashing my dream of having some of your shitty tea.” Ron chided him.

“I save that for when you come around.” Harry added with a smile.

“So, lets walk.” Ron indicated the stairs behind him with his thumb, “Where we going?”

“Just a walk.” Harry explained, “No destination in mind.”

“Good.” Ron nodded, “Just the way I like them.”

With Ron in tow Harry opened the door and followed him out into the brisk London streets. They walked for less than five minutes before Ron began to let out what he had on his mind.

“Have you spoken to Hermione?” Ron looked at Harry with determination.

“No, not in days.” Harry was totally unable to hide his guilt, “Why, have you?”

“I have.” Ron said gravely, “It was less than wonderful. She didn't chew me out like she used to, she did something so much stranger. She got all weird, started bemoaning her choices in life.”

“Bemoaning?” Harry inclined an eyebrow.

“I bought a thesaurus, deal with it.” Ron smiled.

“Dealt with.” Harry put his hands in forfeit, “Where is she? Why hasn't she talked to me?”

“Hermione's gone to her parents house.” He said softly, “She said she needed to clear her head. Feels like she made an ass of herself.”

“What?” Harry burst out, “Goddamn that woman!”

“What happened, mate?” Ron asked.

“I've never met anyone that drove me so far up the fucking wall, I really haven't.” Harry fumed, “She acts like... MERLIN! I don't even know what! Like somehow everything in the world that happens is her fault, and more over that it's all bad.”

“What happened?” Ron asked more assertively.

“She's such a pain in my ass.” Harry continued apparently not listening, “How can someone so smart and wonderful be so absolutely, mind boggling difficult? Because I fought a war, You were there, I fought a fucking war and none of that, not one second, matches the sheer amount of absolute shit she's put me through the last few days!”

“WHAT HAPPENED?” Ron shouted.

“Sorry, mate.” Harry shook his head, “I've had some time to think about it all, you know.”

“What all?” Ron was getting frustrated again.

“I kissed her.” Harry confessed quietly.

“You kissed her?” Ron smiled, “As in, you kissed her? Harry, that's brilliant!”

“One would think.” Harry sighed, “She thought she kissed me, not the other way around. She rushed out of my flat. I couldn't get a word in to explain that it wasn't a big deal.”

“Did you go after her?” Ron asked.

“Are you ready to call me an idiot?” Harry smiled.

“You didn't go after her?” Ron stopped, “You're incredibly retarded.”

“I know!” Harry put his hands over his head and screamed, “I know, I know! I thought, I'll give her some time, you know?”

“She left the next morning.” Ron said flatly, “We've all been pretty worried about her. She finally answered one of Luna's letters to tell us where she's been.”

“Is she coming back?” Harry inquired hopefully.

“Don't know.” Ron answered with a sigh, “She said she was humiliated. Not even sure if she's coming back for the wedding.”

“Sorry, mate.” Harry said softly.

“Look, mate.” Ron set his jaw, “Sorry is all well and good. I can handle sorry, it's fine. It is. However what we need is not sorry.”

“What do you want me to do?” Harry balked.

“What you should have done the first night.” Ron informed him in earnest, “Go after her.”

Harry looked briefly at the sky before running off in the direction of his flat. Ron stood on the sidewalk and smiled after his friend.

“Good luck.” Ron yelled to Harry's retreating back.

Harry stepped out of the cab and walked up to his hotel room. He had never been to Hermione's parent's house and something about having a little bastion away from the action seemed comforting. His hotel room was not large, a modest place with a single bed and a mini fridge. Harry liked its minuscule square footage. Even his own flat had started to feel a bit too large. He put his bag down and laid across the bed so he could stare at the ceiling awhile.

He had packed such a quick bag, things he really needed, only to discover when he opened the damned thing in his room later that he had neglected to pack any socks. From his apartment to the train he was in a flat out run. People watched intensely as he passed them on the sidewalks. Some assumed he was crazy but the few enlightened ones realized they were watching a man in love. It takes a certain kind of desperation to haul down the busy sidewalks of London with a backpack swinging wildly from one shoulder. The sheer brilliance of it all, the rush of the spell he was under had put power in his legs he never knew existed. It didn't take him nearly as long as it should to get all the way across town on foot.

When he had arrived at the station he discovered that the train he needed was departing in minutes. He thought he was still moving through London, he was totally blown away by how fast he got to the train. Some days he was remarkably glad for his new found fitness. The train, as it would have to be, was standing room only, and was filled with the incessant whining of infants. It was apparently the popular hour for new parents to cart their children back to the suburbs. Harry had a pounding headache when he arrived in town, complicated by the fact that his travel plans were, at best, rushed.

He walked up and down the streets trying to find a place with a room to let, all the while cursing his idiot plan to just go. Eventually his desperate gait turned into a limp as his feet blistered and his ankles grew sore. Finally he found a small room in a rundown hotel and his thoughts finally had the time to catch up to him. Oh what thoughts they were.

It seemed odd behavior on Hermione's part to run away in a crisis. She was, after all, the strong one in their trio. He had never known her to back down from a challenge, though it was also true that he had never known her to let him kiss her. He pulled one of his pillows over his face a screamed at his own stupidity. He hadn't even asked how she felt before he made his move. He couldn't even control himself for the remainder of the afternoon like civilized people do. He felt low, like a kind of animal, as though any of his higher brain functions should have mustered the will in him to just not push.

Because he had, he decided. He had pushed and shoved and forced himself and his stupid feelings on a girl he felt something real for. Really real, for the first time in his entire life. The things she did to him both drove him insane and deeply moved him. He wanted more than just her body, though the notion was certainly a pleasant one, he wanted her mind, and her soul and her heart. He wanted her to embrace his victories and his failures and he wanted to do the same for her. He wanted so much and he sat there staring at the ceiling and wondering how he had blown his opportunity so badly. He reached into his bag and pulled the old familiar frame from its depths.

I miss you, Harry. Hope you come home soon.

Love, Hermione

He looked at the letter and felt the weight of his wasted years for the first time. He had spent three years away from her. Three years. It didn't seem like so much at the time. It felt like something that had to be done, wrapped in the odd flow that not having a direction has on time. Now he longed for those three years. He wished he could have them back. The things he would do differently. He would have noticed her sooner. His three wonderful and miserable years alone could have been spent with her. He had traveled the globe trying to find happiness. Trying to learn how to be that guy, the one everyone else seemed so easily able to be. Three years and countless miles only to discover that he never needed to leave at all. She could have taught him.

Three years under her tender tutelage and he wouldn't even have remembered what unhappy was. He would never have been in a rut. How had he been so blind for so long? He had disregarded his pangs of jealousy when she and Ron had started to date. He didn't really understand those feelings, and what sixteen year old boy could? He had dismissed them with the shortsighted notion that he was just envious of the time they spent together. He never let the dark bile dwell in his throat and move him to action. He never let himself realize that it wasn't the time spent away from him, it was Ron he was jealous of. His heart had broken in a way that an entire war and four years of relative isolation still couldn't cure completely.

He thought back to the day he had given her his flat key. She was the only one he could trust with it. It wasn't that she was responsible, it was the private and secret things in his home. He trusted her to see them, he invited her to share a part of his life no one else had. He had let her into his home and even more so into his heart.

“How did I become such an idiot?” Harry asked the ceiling.

There was, of course, no response. He settled to stew in his bitterness for a while longer. Eventually even the energy it took to muster that dissipated. The dull throb from his ankles faded away as he felt himself slip into the darkness of his dreams. His dreams weren't nightmares though they couldn't be described as pleasant. He awoke with an uneasy feeling memories of a tight rope walk lingering in his head. He shook it off and went to the small bathroom to get a glass of water. After he had gulped it down he went to the window to look out at the night sky. It was easier to see the stars here. He remembered times during his travels when he would lay on his backs in a field on a clear night and stare up at them for hours. He would think about her, though then he didn't know why. He smiled at the notion that so much had changed in the last couple of weeks. He understood his reasons more now, but he still stared into the night skies and thought of her.

* * *

Hermione was sitting on her old bed. Her bedroom was like a museum filled with relics of a bygone age. Things she had gathered throughout her younger years littered the place. On her dresser, next to a trinket she had picked up in Hogsmeade, was a wizarding picture of Harry. It had been taken by Colin, years ago. Harry was smiling in the picture. He was talking to a tuft of bushy brown hair that was barely in frame and he was smiling. He looked so young. His familiar deep green eyes didn't have the age they did now, his messy black hair was much shorter leaving his lightning bolt scar visible. How many hours had she spent tracing that scar with her finger? She thought she might have worn through the picture.

There were not many pictures of Harry in existence. Even the newspapers and books only used the handful that were out there when they ran stories about him. After Harry's disappearing act his picture started to go at a premium. News agencies offered ludicrous sums of money for old pictures and more for recent. Rita Skeeter had even owled her once for pictures for a book she was writing on Harry. Hermione refused, that woman had never sat right with her. Hermione walked over and picked up the picture.

It had been a different time then. The darkness was always looming around them, an ever present reminder of how violent their lives would become. She sighed. He had been so gentle. In the precious times he had touched her then, his touch was tender, soft. It was as though he treasured her above all else. He likely did, she thought to herself, he never really had people he cared about. He walked through every relationship like it was made of cracking glass. He was always so afraid to pressure things, afraid his carefully built world would shatter around him if he made the wrong choice or said the wrong thing.

She loved him even then. It all seemed so clear now. When everything and everyone told her she shouldn't. When she knew that loving him would destroy Ron who was ever in Harry's shadow. When finally she and Ron had gotten together it wasn't out of pity, or fear for the fate of Ron, it was because of Harry. Harry closed himself off to everyone in preparation for what they all knew was coming. Harry walked through the last few years of his childhood in a gloom. She had pitied him then, her heart went out to him, but he wouldn't let her give it to him. Perhaps he couldn't. Eventually she went with Ron. She loved him, she really did, but in the end it was just that Ron could give her something that Harry couldn't. Ron could give his heart in return, even though it didn't last.

Now she had been given something that she had wanted for a decade and she had blown it. It had come over her so suddenly. She was in his lap, using their close friendship to live out a little fantasy. She knew as soon as she got there that it had been a bad choice. His closeness loosened something in her she had tried for so long to conceal. He had looked at her then. His deep green eyes pierced her soul. His hand moved, adjusted himself in his seat perhaps. His face had gotten closer. She perceived a a determination in his eyes. She closed her eyes and went for it. Years of pent-up desire plunged her head forward and her lips met his.

She savored the moment in her head. It was the last moment of pure happiness before she lost her mind and ruined everything. She had been too sudden, too presumptuous. How could things not be different after that? Harry had told Ron that he didn't think of her in that way and yet still she went ahead with it. She had disregarded his feelings and there was no going back. They couldn't just be friends any more. Sure he would try, he would explain that he liked her, but not in that way. He would explain that they could still be friends, that he didn't want to damage the relationship they already had. But she couldn't sit through, couldn't listen to him say those words.

So the most elegant solution she could come up with was to leave. To simply not face him. She would find the time to build her defenses to the talk that would eventually come. It wasn't like she could stay away forever, no matter what happened she could be sure that she could never stay away from Harry Potter. The very idea of it sickened her. He was her best friend, her closest confidant. He meant the world to her. She would fix herself, bury the feelings and come back better than ever. She just needed her time alone. Which is why when her mother came in things went from bad to worse in her fragile little world.

“Hermione, dear.” Her mother peaked around the edge of her door, “Harry is downstairs to see you.”

“What?” Hermione went instantly pale.

“Your father is distracting him while I check to see if you're here.”

“Thank you.” Hermione gave her a pitiful smile. Her mother crossed the room and sat down next to her. She took Hermione's hands in her own and looked her in the eyes with sympathy.

“Why don't you tell me what happened?”

“I wouldn't even know where to begin.” Her head fell into her mother's shoulder.

“Why don't you try the beginning?”

“He saved me from a troll.” She sighed.

“Maybe not that far back, dear. I know all your Hogwarts stories.”

“Not all of them.” Hermione blushed.

“Do tell.”

“I found him asleep on one of the chairs in the common room one night.” She said quietly, “I was just going to take his glasses off, I swear I was.”

“But instead?”

“I started to brush the hair from his forehead. That's when I saw it. His scar.”

“The one from when he was a baby?” Her mother touched her hand to her own forehead and winced slightly.

“Yeah.”

“Poor thing.”

“Which is exactly what I thought then. He had been through so much already, and he would have to go through so much more yet.” A slow tear fell from Hermione's eye.

“What happened?”

“I kissed his forehead. I kissed his scar. I wanted to take his pain away, or maybe I just had always wanted to kiss him. I don't know, I honestly don't.”

Her mother hugged her. “It's natural for a girl to be drawn to a boy like Harry. It's not something to be ashamed of.”

“I kissed him.”

“It's in the past.” Her mother patted her head.

“No, a few days ago, in his kitchen. I kissed him.” Hermione pulled away to look in her mother's eyes.

“And?”

“I... I don't know. I kind of freaked out on him and ran away.”

“Which is why you're here, not that we don't enjoy having you but we figured it had to be something.” Her mother nodded.

“What should I do?” She looked up imploringly.

“I can't tell you that. It has to be you that decides.”

“Okay, but just tell him that I'm not home right now.”

“I will, sweetie.” She hung by the door for a few seconds, “You'll have to talk to him eventually.”

“I know.”

Hermione fell back against her bed and wished that she could erase the last few days and start over. Now he was here, at her parents home, he had come this far just to talk to her. It meant something, though she didn't know what. She knew their friendship was important to him. She was just afraid to find out his motives, afraid of so much.

* * *

Hermione's mother had come downstairs and taken a seat beside her father on the couch. She looked at Harry with a mixture of amusement and pity.

“Hermione is in a very delicate place right now.” She began.

“I know, I just want to talk to her.”

“She may need some time, would it be asking you too much to give her that?”

“The thing is, though that she's got the wrong idea.” Harry tried to explain.

“She knows, and I understand, Harry.” Hermione's mother bit her lip, “But if you're not interested in her in that way, good.” She smiled at her husband, “I sound like a little kid when I say things like that. Harry, if you don't have feelings for her, you need to let her work this out. She's had a thing for you for a very long time.”

“No it's not that-” He tried.

“She needs to find a place to move on. She needs time and space to do that. If you want to keep her as a friend, you need to go away until she's finished.”

“I don't want her to move on!” He stood up, “I don't want her as a friend! I...” He looked at the shocked faces of her parents, “To hell with it, I love her. I really do, and I've been foolish and stupid and everything else that means dumb for taking so long to realize it.”

“Oh.” Her father said in awe. Harry sat back down.

“I just want to talk to her. I just want to tell her. I swear.”

Her parents asked to be excused so they could go into the kitchen and have a conversation out of his earshot. While they were gone Harry basked in the freedom of finally admitting it all out loud. However he couldn't help but be a little nervous as well. It wasn't the best position to be in, sitting alone on the couch as Hermione's parents decided whether or not he could pursue the one thing in his life that actually made sense.

When they came back in to the living room Hermione's mother went upstairs and her father sat down adjacent to Harry. Harry swallowed a ball of nerve as her father shifted uncomfortably in his chair.

“Harry, I'm not good at this sort of thing.” He began, “I have to tell you, there isn't really a rule book on how to be a father, which is why the job is so hard.”

“Okay.”

“So, I'll try to do this right. I don't want to run into cliché, but what are your intentions with my daughter.”

“I... I don't really know.”

“You don't know? You said you love her.”

“I do. I really do, but thing of it is, well...” He rubbed the back of his neck, “I only sort of figured all of this out in the last few days. At this point, honestly, I just want her to know that it was all my fault and not hers and that I love her.”

“I can't argue those intentions.”

“Thank you.”

“We think she'll need some time to digest all of this. She probably has a lot of thinking to do, and frankly I've been told that that she's liked you for a long time and you've done little more than ignore her and run off for years.”

“Oh, yeah.” Harry cast his eyes to the floor. He couldn't believe he hadn't thought of that before. Everything that he must have put her through.

“It seems to me that she's done a lot to prove her feelings for you, and all you've done is confuse her, make a sudden and move on her, and chased her here.”

“Yeah.”

“What's your move now?” Her father leaned forward and rested his chin on his hands.

“I...” Harry bit his lip and considered his next few words, “What would you do?”

“Well, when I went after my wife I read her poetry and gave up certain things she didn't approve of, as she did for me.”

“I don't really read poems.” Harry sighed.

“You'll figure it out.”

Just then Hermione's mother came down the stairs. She walked into the living room and sat beside her husband. She took his hand and smiled at him. She then turned to Harry.

“She says you can go up. Down the hall third on the right. Behave yourselves.” She said sweetly.

“Right.” He nodded before he headed up the stairs. When he got to the right door he saw a sign hanging on it. The handwriting looked like it might have been done by Hermione when she was very young. It just said, “Hermione's room.” He raised his hand and noticed a slight tremble through it. He breathed out a deep calming breath and knocked. From behind the door he heard her nervous voice tell him to enter.

“Hi, Hermione.” He said lamely.

“What are you doing here?”

Harry's tongue caught in his throat. He had been so sure that if he could just see her everything would just flow out of him. As though just her presence could evoke the long dormant romantic in him. As it was he wished he had put more thought into what he was going to say. He just stood there for several long moments, tension building around him, as he struggled for the words. He thought back on all the romantic advice he had ever been given and began to grasp at those straws.

“Let us go then, you and I, When the evening is spread out against the sky Like a patient etherised upon a table; Let us go, through certain half-deserted streets,” Harry spat out suddenly the first thing he could think of.

“Why are you quoting T. S. Elliot at me?” She had a totally bewildered look on her face.

“I... I really have no idea.” He looked at the floor.

She patted the bed beside her.“Sit down. Let's just talk.”

Harry moved and sat on the bed. He shifted his wait and played with his fingers.

“What, uhm.. What did your mum tell you?”

“That you absolutely had to talk to me, and I had to get this over with sooner than later. Why are you quoting World War Two poetry at me?”

“Your dad said that I should... It was the first poem I could think of and, I was trying to impress you, because honestly I am not as smart as I wish I was and I thought that you would appreciate it better if I could talk to you a little more on a level you were more used to... and your dad said that it was the thing to do, because I don't know what I have to give up, which sounds kind of weird if you really think about it. Because There is so many things that I already gave up and I think that it-”

“Harry, you're babbling.” She put her hand on his, “Slow down and tell me what you came up here to tell me. I can take it.”

Harry moved on the bed to face her. “Okay, here's the thing. I have this thing ever since, you know what happened, it's like it's empty in my head. Well, empty is the wrong word. Lonely! It's been lonely in my head. You know?”

“Not at all. Is this about Voldemort?”

“No, yes... no. It's not. See, I've been in this place that it felt like I would fall apart if I didn't just get away from it all. The pressure and the fame and the fact that I killed a man. All of it. It was tearing me apart.”

“I know, Harry. That's why you left. You explained all of this to me.” She swept her fingertips gently over his cheek, “Are you leaving again?”

“No!” Harry turned away and put his head in his hands, “Why am I so bad at this?”

“Bad at what? Just tell me.”

Harry reached into the bag he had brought with him and handed her the framed letter he had brought with him. She looked down on it and puzzled at its meaning.

“I saw this in your room.” She said, confused.

“That's when it started. When I started to put it all together. It was the little things. You missed me, not we. Love Hermione, not love from. I obsessed over these things and I didn't even know why, but I figured it out.”

“You've known for this long?” She let her head hang, “Why didn't you tell me? I've made such a fool of myself. I shouldn't have kissed you.”

“That's not what I'm talking about.” He grabbed her shoulders and looked into her eyes, “None of this was your fault.”

“It was, Harry.” She moved away, “It was wrong. I knew how you felt, but it was like I couldn't control myself.”

“Stop being so goddamn frustrating for six seconds.” He pulled her back to him, “You didn't kiss me. It was the letter, don't you see?"

“I really don't.”

“Why can't I do this? Why is this so hard for me? I've never been great at talking about feelings, but I'm so fucking twisted inside.”

“Just calm down, Harry. Tell me.”

“I love you.”

“What?” Hermione said in awe.

“That's the thing. That's what I came up here for, it's why I followed you all this way. I've been in love with you for a long time, but it wasn't until the letter that the cogs started to turn. I treasured this one letter for so long. But the rest of them, the other letters you sent. They were so vague that I couldn't put it all together right away.”

“You didn't know?”

“I do now. I love you, Hermione. Not like a sister, not like a dear friend, not even regular romantic love either. I love you like a religion.”

“What?”

“What I feel for you, it's a kind of oneness. You're the other side of my coin, the half that completes me. It's spiritual. I came here, in the middle of everything else to tell you, that it wasn't you. I kissed YOU, not the other way around.”

“You kissed me?”

“I did. I kissed you, because you held my hand and you sat in my lap, and there was this family I saw from the street, it's all pretty confusing, but it was me.”

“I thought that I had kissed you.”

“I know, and maybe you did, but I did too. It wasn't a stolen kiss, it was a shared moment. A moment that got really messed up, but a moment none the less.”

“I never knew that you felt...” She wiped tears from her eyes, “Oh Harry, I love you too. I've loved you for so long. I just didn't think you could feel the same way. You're this big hero, women practically throw themselves at you. I never thought that you would go for a bushy haired book worm like me.”

“You're beautiful. You just don't see it, and in it's own weird way that makes you even more beautiful. I always thought, even back in school that you were too good for me. That you weren't interested.”

“I was Harry.” Her eyes rolled to the ceiling, “God, was I ever. I had it bad for you, but you were so uninvolved in everything, so unapproachable. You didn't seem to like me like I liked you.”

“I think I just needed a push.”

“So many wasted years.” She shook her head.

“Well, we're here now.” He lifted her chin up with his thumb, “Can I... Would you mind if I kissed you?”

“Just kiss me.”

Harry moved forward and pressed his lips to hers. Their lips moved into each other like waves crashing against the shores. A passion flowed through them and into each other. They would stop momentarily, look into each other's eyes, and giggle or smile before they continued kissing, letting each lonely year pour into the moment. Everything felt right. Finally when they pulled away they smiled at each other and held hands. She moved against him and he put his arms around her. The two fell back onto the bed and enjoyed the feeling of being wrapped in each other.

“I've been waiting a very long time for that.” She sighed against him.

“I hope it was everything you hoped.”

“And so much more.”

“Good.”

“So where do we go from here?” She looked into his eyes.

“I say we go back to London, do the dating thing and get married.”

“Sounds good, and I won't tell the other boys that you proposed before our first date.”

“I'd appreciate it.” He smiled.

“So Ron's wedding.” She began, “Do you still want me as your plus one?”

“I want you as my plus one for everything we ever attend in the future.”

“I could get used to that.”

“Good.” He looked at his watch and saw that somewhere between making out and cuddling two hours had passed, “We had better go explain to your parents that we've been up here behaving.”

“Then we'll go home.” She nodded, “I hope my parents don't give us the safe sex talk.”

“Are we in danger of that?”

“We just might be.” She said cautiously.

“Well, it's probably about time I got one from somebody then.”

“You never... No one ever gave you the safe sex talk?” She gawked.

“I was in the hospital wing for that during school.” He blushed.

“Yeah.” She looked down.

“Come one.” He smiled at her, “If it's going to happen, we'll do this together.”

“I love you.” She smiled at him before giving him one last soft kiss.

“I love you too.”

He brushed some hair from her face and they stood up and fixed their rumpled clothes. Harry took a steady breath to suppress his nerves and Hermione took his hand. Together they walked down to see her parents.

“What are your plans now?” Hermione's mother asked from the couch.

Harry turned his head and looked at Hermione as she sat next to him. She looked timid, excited and like a goddess all at once. He smiled and squeezed her hand. She smiled back at him. It was smile like he had never received before from anyone. It was encouraging and wistful and what he had always wanted but never dared to ask for.

“We don't know.” Hermione answered her mother, “We're going to start by going home.”

“To your separate homes?” Her father said protectively.

“Yes, sir.”

“Well, okay then.” He shifted back onto the couch.

“Do we need to tell you about it?” Her mother pressed.

“It?” Harry raised and eyebrow.

“It.” She accentuated.

“No, Mother.” Hermione put her face in her hands.

They talked for awhile more before Harry politely excused himself to go. Hermione walked him out to the curb in front of her house. She stared down at her feet like a shy teenager.

“Thank you.” She said softly.

“For what?”

“For coming out here, for... well for everything really.” She smiled.

“Thank you, Hermione.” He put his hand on her cheek, “Thank you so much.”

“I.. okay?”

“You waited for me.” He shrugged, “I was so messed up after everything, in such a bad place. But you waited. You recognized something in me and you waited. You didn't have to.”

“Yes, I did. I know you have this complex about yourself-”

“I wouldn't call it a-” She put her hand to his mouth.

“It is.” She withdrew her hand, “You have such a low opinion of yourself, no matter how wonderful you really are. I had to wait for you. It has to be you, Harry. It has to be.”

“I don't know what to say.”

“You never do.” She leaned in and kissed him, “But that's okay. You don't have to explain anything to me.”

Harry pulled her forward and hugged her. He had to feel her against himself, if only to remind him that this was real. That she cared.

“I love you. I don't know why it took so long to see that.” He whispered into her hair.

“Because we weren't ready for it yet.” She pulled back and looked into his eyes, “But we are now.”

A few long moments passed as they stared into each other's eyes. They smiled about the long road it had taken to get there, and dreamed about the rest of their lives now that they had arrived. Finally he kissed her again. Each time she let him kiss her he felt special, privileged. He belonged to her now, nothing would ever be the same again.

“I'll come round in the morning to take you back to London.” He said.

“I wish you could stay.” She looked down, “I'm going to wake up tomorrow and worry that none of this happened.”

“I wish I could too, but I doubt your parents would be too keen on it.”

“Just be here tomorrow. Please.”

“I'll be here.”

After he watched her walk back in, he went back to his hotel room and packed his things for their trip home tomorrow. While brushing his teeth he caught himself in the bathroom mirror and for no reason started to blush. He called the front desk and set a wake up call for seven A.M. before he lay back on the bed, and for the first time in as long as he could remember, went to sleep with a smile on his face.

* * *

They found a spot near the back of the train where no one could hear them the next morning. There was a tremendous sense of pride and amazement from the simple fact that they could hold hands in public. Harry wondered if he would ever get tired of just holding her hand. A goofy smile spread across his face. Hermione sighed and leaned into in, resting her head on his shoulder.

“I was happy to see you this morning.” She closed her eyes, “Happier than I've ever been about anything.”

“Me too.”

“Mum says we're acting like love sick teenagers.”

“She's probably right. It's hard to tell, but I went to sleep really happy last night and that's a big deal to me.”

“I still wish you could have stayed.”

“Me too.” He said too quickly.

“I didn't mean like that.” She giggled at him.

“No. No, me either!”

“I'm not saying I'm opposed to that!” She sat up suddenly and looked into his eyes.

“No, I know. I'm not going to push it” He said comfortingly, “When we're ready. It's not about sex with me.”

“Of course it's not, not that it wouldn't be welcomed-” She covered her mouth and blushed. He put his arms around her and pulled her close to him.

“When we're ready.”

“Exactly.” She agreed. They sat like that for half the train ride before suddenly she spoke again.

“So what do you want to do when we get back?”

“How do you mean?” He rubbed his head, “I guess we should tell Ron and Luna.”

“What about Ginny?”

“Right. Ginny.” He cast his eyes downward, “I was hoping to avoid that for awhile.”

“Which is all fine and well, for you.” She pointed out, “But I live with her.”

“Well...” He began nervously, “You could stay at my place.”

“What?”

“I mean, hey not like that!” He blushed.

“Then like what?” She gave him a look that shook every fiber of his being.

“I would, you know, I would take the couch. You could have the bed. Everyone thinks you're gone anyway.”

“And everyone thinks you went after me.”

“Yeah so...” He looked out the window with a measure of guilt.

“Okay.”

Harry whipped his head around in shock. He had to see her. He had to know what had caused her to answer so quickly. When he saw her she was practically glowing red. She had dropped her head and was looking nervously at the floor. Her feet were moving anxiously back and forth. She was wringing her hands. She looked so vulnerable. He wanted to reach out and hold her. To comfort her. For some reason he couldn't. He just kept trying to swallow back the lump that had formed in his throat, and push some very vivid images from his mind.

* * *

Harry was sitting on his couch looking at two different take out menus, trying to decide if he wanted to order pizza or Chinese. Hermione was in the shower and Harry was trying his best to ignore that fact. His take out dilemma was in direct correlation. If he could just keep an internal debate going over food he hoped he would be able to ignore the idea of water running over her body. He shook his head. He stood up and began pacing.

“This is bad.” He said aloud.

He decided to walk into his room to grab some of his things to put next to the couch. It had never been like this with her before. Not to say that he hadn't had these thoughts from time to time, but they had never been so palpable. He would find himself constantly glancing at the bathroom door before he realized what he was doing. He shook his head violently before he grabbed a handful of clean clothes and went out to the couch. He tried sitting on the couch but his leg wouldn't stop shaking. He tried to lay on it, but his leg just got worse. So finally he settled on pacing in front of the couch.

“What the hell is taking her so long?”

As if on cue he heard the water stop. He stopped pacing and for several long moments just stared at the door to the bathroom. He felt strangely compelled by the door. He put a foot forward before he stopped. He drew his foot back and shook his head. He was being stupid, impulsive. He couldn't do what his physical urges wanted him to do. He sat down and the couch and turned on the TV. He pretended to concentrate on what was on but all he could focus on was the sound of the bathroom door. He heard her footsteps patter over the hardwood as she made her way to his bedroom. He doubled his efforts not to turn his head.

“Just be cool.”

After a few minutes he noticed the scent of freshly washed hair and felt her weight next to him on the couch. He refused to turn his head. He felt her hand fall onto his knee. He looked down then looked at her. She was in a simple pair of sweats but something about her being damp made it so much more interesting.

“What are you watching?” Maybe he was imagining it but he could swear she was puckering her lips.

“I.. uh..what?”

“What are you watching?”

Harry searched every part of his brain to try and remember a single frame of what he saw on his television screen. Nothing was coming. He wondered if he could chance a look at the screen and still seem casual about it. He didn't have a lot of options so he went for it. His eyes quickly scanned over the screen only to see an advert for snack chips running. He looked back at her with a guilty grin. She raised an eyebrow and the corners of her lips perked up.

“I have no idea.” He admitted.

“What's got you zoning out so bad?”

“It's, well, you're going to think this is silly.”

“I promise not to laugh.” She crossed her heart with her finger, “Too much, anyway.”

“I... you're my girlfriend now and..”

“I am, in fact, your girlfriend now.” They both paused before she continued, “That is absolutely my new favorite sentence.”

“It's definitely mine too.” He nodded.

“So, is that what has you so spaced out? Nomenclature?”

“In a way, yes.” Harry pointed at the ceiling and indicated around the rest of the apartment, “I've stayed in a lot of places, with a lot of different people.”

“Girls?”

“On occasion.” He shrugged.

“Sex?”

“As in have I had it?”

“As in.” She affirmed.

“Yes, I have. Haven't you?”

“Yes.”

There was suddenly a tightness in his chest. It should have been so obvious to him that she had had sex, he had even prepared himself for her answer, and yet hearing it was totally different. He swallowed hard and dismissed it from his mind. He was an adult, he had to start acting like one if he wanted it to work with her, and he wanted little else in the world than for it to work with her.

“Can we be done with this portion of the conversation?”

“Did you sleep with Ginny?”

“God, no. We stopped dating in school.”

“Do you want to know if I slept with Ron?”

“No.” He bit his lip, “Okay, a little bit yeah.”

“Yes, once. Is that okay?”

“Why wouldn't it be?” He raised an eyebrow.

“He's your best friend.”

“Yeah, we're finished with this portion of the conversation now.”

“Agreed. You were saying?”

“Right, I was saying that I have never slept this close to a girlfriend.”

“What about the one you had sex with?”

“You don't really want me answering that.” He shook his head.

“Yeah, I kind of do.”

“She wasn't my girlfriend. Is this important?”

“I don't really know.”

Harry shuffled uncomfortably on the couch. Hermione put her hand on his.

“Okay, this is that part in the relationship where everything is kind of still settling.”

“I'm not good at these things, Hermione. I'm not...” He hung his head, “I've never been a very good boyfriend.”

Hermione put her hand gently on his cheek. “You're the only boyfriend I want, Harry.”

Harry kissed her. She leaned back on the couch with his weight. Her chest heaved into him as her fingers laced through his hair on the back of his head. She pulled him closer, and what had begun its life as a chaste kiss became something far more passionate. Harry moaned into her mouth as his hips involuntarily pressed against hers. He felt her smile against his lips. He suddenly became aware of where his hand was. He felt the soft cotton sweatshirt covering her bosom against his palm. His eyes went wide and he jerked himself away from her.

He snapped his head to the side to look at his offending hand. It looked like his hand had always looked, no difference and yet it also looked totally alien to him. He couldn't believe what it, or rather what he, had done. He turned his head back to her. She was still laying back on the couch but her face had gone pale, save for the tremendous blush covering her cheeks. She was breathing heavy, her chest rising up and down with each breath. He forced his eyes from her heaving chest back to her face. Her eyes were focused on him.

“You... you stopped.” She squeaked out.

“I'm sorry. I didn't mean to...you know.... it just kind of happened.”

“I..”

Harry stood up and fled the room at a reckless pace. He closed the bathroom door behind him when he got in. He took several long steading breaths as he paced the room. Finally he sat down on the cold tiles in front of the toilet and hung his head. He soon lost himself in thought. Regret for the most part. He would look up every now and then at the door. Making sure the knob was still locked.

He sat in the bathroom for almost a half an hour listening to Hermione through the door. He waited specifically to hear her walk into his room and close the door. Instead, after a long wait he heard her knock on the door to the bathroom. He debated not answering but decided it would be difficult to convince her that he wasn't in there. So he stood up and opened the door a crack.

“Hello.” He said lamely.

“Can I come in?”

“I'm sorry.”

“Harry, can I come in? We should probably talk about this.”

Harry hesitated. He couldn't help but feel that everything was happening too fast and he worried that if he let her into the room that it would only hurtle even further out of his control. He did not want to ruin what they had but he feared deep in the pit of his soul that he would. He had never been in a serious relationship before. He had no idea how to handle it. Furthermore he was really embarrassed by his actions and unsure of how composed he was to handle an extended conversation in his condition. She was making him blush.

He looked to her and realized that he was being stupid. This was Hermione. His Hermione. She would never do anything to hurt him in any way. He sighed.

“Yeah. You're right.”

He stepped aside and let her enter. She sat on the edge of the bathtub and patted the area next to her. He sat down with a little space between the two of them. She moved over until her thigh rested against his. He cast his eyes down nervously.

“I'm sorry.” He repeated.

“Is this going to happen every time you touch me?”

“I don't... What?” He looked up at her. Her face was stern, but with a kind of sweetness he didn't expect.

“I'm yours, Harry. Heart, mind and body. Everything. And you? You're mine.”

“I know, it's just I promised not to push this.”

“It's okay, Harry. Things happen in the heat of the moment. I didn't object.”

“I don't think...” He paused before shaking his head, “I don't think we're ready yet.”

“Then we're not.” She put her hand on his cheek and his head instinctively turned into it, “We can always stop if it's going too far. I promise you that. Okay?”

“Okay.”

“But that doesn't mean I don't want you touching me. Because I do. I want you to be comfortable touching me in any way you like. I mean that.”

“It's not that I don't want to.”

“You have to understand that I thought that. I sat out there forever, Harry, thinking that you didn't find me attractive or that you didn't like what you felt. The things I thought, it worried me.”

“That isn't it at all!” He stood up suddenly, “Hermione, I think you're the most beautiful, sexy, wonderful woman I've ever met.”

“I wasn't fishing for compliments.”

“I wasn't taking any bait either. That's a fact.”

“Then it's okay for you to grab my breast. It's okay for you to do so much more. It honestly is.”

“I just don't want to rush things.”

“We won't. If it's going to far, in the future, I'll stop you and we'll discuss if we go further or not. You don't need to worry about that. I'll know if we hit the point of no return or not. You will too.”

“What if I don't? What if you don't?”

“There are worse things in the world than making love to you, Harry.” Harry nearly fell off the edge of the tub in shock. He looked at her wide eyed. Something about the way she had said it caught his funny bone and he began to laugh. She soon joined him. Eventually when the laughter died down she put her hand on his, “If it happens it happens. If we love each other, if neither one of us stops, then that's when we're ready.”

“Oh... okay.”

He sat back down next to her and she put her head on his shoulder. He ran his hand over the top of her head, mussing her hair a little. She smiled and closed her eyes.

“I told you I was bad at being a boyfriend.” He chuckled.

“It's a learning experience.”

* * *

The next morning Harry picked himself up off the couch and walked into the kitchen to make breakfast. He yawned as he looked at the clock on the stove. It was just shy of eleven o'clock in the morning. He hadn't meant to oversleep but they had stayed up half the night talking. He couldn't really remember what they had talked about for most of it. All he recalled was realizing it was three in the morning and deciding it was time for them to get some sleep.

As he turned over the bacon he realized that he wasn't making enough. He had spent so many years making breakfast for one that he had let himself do it out of pure muscle memory. He went to the fridge and pulled out two more eggs and some more bacon. When he had finished cooking breakfast he set it on the table and turned around to wake up Hermione. He turned around to find her stretching and yawning.

“Something smells wonderful.” She announced.

“I, uh, I made breakfast.” He pointed to the table.

“Mmmm. This I could get used to.”

They sat down and ate breakfast, the whole time giggling at silly jokes and making eyes at one another. When they had finished Harry took both plates and began to wash them.

“You don't have to do the dishes.” Hermione offered.

“No big deal.”

“You cooked.”

“You're my guest.”

“Well, if you insist.” She stood up, “Anything you want to watch? I'm going to put the TV on.”

“I'm fairly certain that there is nothing worth watching on.”

“It is daytime television.”

“I'm not convinced the time of day matters.” He shrugged.

“You may be onto something there.”

Hermione walked into the living room and turned on the TV. She found a channel that was playing “Strangers on a Train” and left it on. Before long Harry joined her on the couch. They sat down and talked to each other about nothing substantial instead of paying attention to the movie. She put her hand in his. Somewhere in the background Ruth Roman spoke an impassioned monologue.

“So.” She started, “Living together. So far?”

“So far so good.” He nodded.

“I'm enjoying it. It's like the best vacation ever.”

“I agree. You should consider never leaving.” He joked.

Hermione just sat there staring at him. Harry smiled uncomfortably.

“You mean... Live together?”

“I was, uhm... I was kidding.”

“I know, I just.. Big step in a relationship to joke about.”

“You're right.”

“Yeah.” They sat in uncomfortable silence for several minutes.

“Uh... Did you want to?”

Hermione looked at him for what felt like months. He instantly regretted asking. He tried to turn his brain into overdrive to come up with a way to back pedal. Before he could find an appropriate line of reasoning she trumped him.

“I honestly don't know.”

They both sat back on the couch and stared off into space. Contemplating their shared future. The world was changing around them. They needed time to catch their breath.

Author's Note: Wow, I know that this took an insanely long time to get out, and I apologize for that, what began as simply not having the time became writer's block became a myriad of other excuses. But that's all in the past. Enjoy, and once again (and for the last time on this story) thank you all so much for reading.

Harry sat on the edge of his bed and held the invitation to Ron's wedding in his hand. He smiled for what felt the hundred millionth time since He and Hermione had finally gotten together. He turned the invitation over in his hands, marveling that this is was what it had taken. Of all things in the world it had been his best friend getting married to finally drop the last puzzle piece into place. Years spent abroad, finding himself in the many and varied conditions of the whole planet, and he really only had to wait for something as simple as watching his friend grow up to decide it was time to do the same.

Hermione was in the living room, he could hear her moving things around. They had been to see Ginny earlier that day to get some of Hermione's things and of course to swear the roommate to secrecy for the time being. The question was still lingering in the air around their heads. Neither was sure how fast they were meant to be moving in their relationship, or how slow. The conversation had been fairly brief after the idea of moving in together had been posed.

Harry had simply asked if she thought they were ready for that step. She said she didn't know. They both talked about not rushing things, trying to find a perfect balance so as not to ruin what they were building before the foundation was properly established. Which was a fine, even headed and ultimately very wise thing to realize. The truth of love however is anything but fine, even headed or ultimately wise. Because while on the outside they could both claim to want to take things slowly, the gears were in motion, and the machine had several years of lost time and missed opportunity to catch up on.

Harry put down the invitation with it's looming deadline on the bed beside him and walked out to living room. Once there he saw Hermione sitting on the floor trying desperately to make sense of the chaotic mess around her. The living room was littered with relics from her life with Ginny. Clothes and other assorted belongings each stacked in piles, the intent of these piles escaping all but Hermione. Harry casually sat beside her on the floor and wrapped his arm around her. He pulled her close to him and she leaned into the embrace, her head eventually resting between his shoulder and his armpit.

“How's it going, Beautiful?”

“Rubbish.” She sighed into him, he felt a shiver run up his spine at the feel of her breath on him.

“Why rubbish?”

“I have too much crap.”

“I like your piles.” He pointed to one in particular, “You realize, however that it's bad form to stack the larger things on top of the smallest things, yes?”

“I like to tempt the engineering fates.” She smiled.

“I see that, and you're doing it wonderfully. Remind me to get up and walk away very carefully later.”

“Will do.”

“So, what exactly do you plan to do about the fact that you have too much crap?”

“I would give some of it away, but most of the stuff I grabbed has some kind of sentimental attachment.”

“So it stays.”

“Which would be great, and is really sweet of you, except.”

“Except?”

“Well, this is hardly all of my things, Harry. There's more at the apartment.”

“And?”

“Well, when I eventually move it all over here, there won't be much room left. Maybe we should get a bigger place.”

“A bigger place? Eventually move it over here? When did we cement the plan for you to move in? Because I was under the impression that we weren't going to rush anything.”

“I don't mean tomorrow, Harry.” She stifled a laugh, “I meant eventually.”

“As in when we finally do move in together, get married and grow hopelessly old and boring?”

“I somehow doubt you'll ever be boring.” She cocked an eyebrow.

“Damn, I was looking forward to boring.”

“But seriously, we should start to think about getting another place. Maybe a house. We can certainly afford it.”

Harry looked around his old place. He looked at the nook in front of the bay window that he would some times curl up in to watch the rain. The kitchen where he had first kissed her. The bathroom he had so recently locked himself in. The living room. The first room he had see all those years ago when he bought the place. He was still a boy, still shaken from fighting a war he had had no business fighting for a people he had not known about at all until he was eleven.

“This place...” He paused, “I'm not sure I can just give it up.”

“What?”

“A lot of stuff happened in this daft old flat. Those memories are meaningful to me. Just like your piles of stuff.”

“I get that, but you abandoned this place for years.”

“This is true.”

“When did it start to feel like home again?” Her face had a mixture of concerned girlfriend and the look she always got when confronted with a mystery.

“In truth?”

“I should hope so.”

“Well, kind of... Since you started staying here.”

“Well, then, and I'm not going to say you're thick, but do you think that maybe any place we live will be home so long as we live there together?”

“That...” He hung his head, “Yeah. That sounds about right.”

“You're thick.”

“You said you weren't going to call me that.”

“That was before I knew that you had absolutely no argument for wanting to keep this place at all.”

“It's kind of messy in my head.”

“I wouldn't have it any other way.” And with those words she pounced on him and smothered him with kisses. Her piles of precariously perched belongs toppling around them.

* * *

Ron and Luna were married a few weeks later. The ceremony was short, but beautiful. The vows exchanged were written by the the bride and groom, respectively, though Harry had a feeling that Ron's vows may have once been a little known work by Pablo Neruda. Harry and Hermione had shown up separately, not wanting to steal the thunder of the newly weds. Ron and Luna went to the Isle of White and then to Canada for their honeymoon, and when they returned they were welcomed at their new place by Harry and Hermione. Ron and Luna became the first to be told that Harry and Hermione had gotten together.

That fall both Harry and Hermione were professors at Hogwarts. Two years later, in the Great Hall where the two had shared many meals and many conspiratorial conversations they share one more. Harry asked Hermione to marry him. They married the following spring on Hogwarts grounds, Ron served as Harry's best man. Molly cried and hugged the two of them hundreds of times throughout the day. For the first time in many years Harry's name appeared in wizarding newspapers worldwide, this time however was to announce the union of the two long time best friends.

* * *

Harry twisted in his chair. He sat in his office at Hogwarts, a room he had come to love deeply in his many years in it. He stared up at the wall, at the portraits of the Head Masters before him. The wise old Dumbledore looked on him, as he had for the last thirteen years, with total pride. Snape, whose portrait Harry had fought to have on his wall, looked on Harry with his normal sneer, though over the years Harry had been known to have long and friendly conversations with the portrait. Harry's eyes shifted to his desk.

Among his many years of accumulated miscellanea were several frames. One contained a picture of his and Hermione's first child on his very first day at Hogwarts. Young Albus, or Alby as he and his wife called him had been the most wonderful thing Harry had ever had a hand in, and as the years at Hogwarts had proved the young man had much more of Harry's penchant for trouble making than Hermione's penchant for studying. Another was a picture of the two taken eighteen years prior on their first day as professors, next to it was a picture of himself, Ron and his wife when they were no more than fourteen. Another picture was Ron and Luna on their wedding day, as well of a picture of his own wedding day. There was one of him holding his daughter, Sarah a name which both parents had liked, if not loved, and one of the few they found themselves able to agree on. She was still too young to attend Hogwarts, but more and more everyday it was obvious that she was the one to take after Hermione.

And in a place of honor, at the very middle of his vast desk and slightly behind his name plaque sat the most important frame of all. It held only a very old letter which said simply:

I miss you, Harry. Hope you come home soon.

Love, Hermione.