And She Knew: Four Ficlets about Harry and Hermione
By AddisonJ
Disclaimer: JK Rowling owns Harry Potter.
This is for my beta, DeeMichelle, who told me "Use it!" when I mentioned a real life experience that led to these plot bunnies.
This isn't my usual romance HEA story, so please read & review. I'm a bit nervous.
#1: In the Play Park
"Mummy! Uncle Harry! Watch this! See how high I can go on the swing!"
"Be careful, Hugo!" called Hermione, as she looked up from picking flowers with Rose.
"Well done!" called Harry, who was creating a sandcastle with Lily.
"I think he'll be a flyer," Harry spoke, nodding toward Hugo, who was swinging his legs furiously, trying to get as high as possible without magic.
"Oh dear, I'm sure he knows his mother's view of flying," Hermione said worriedly.
"I've always thought that his mother would be an excellent flyer if she could get past her fears," teased Harry.
"Methinks not everyone can be as brave as the great Harry Potter."
"Methinks no one is braver than the wonderful Hermione Granger-Weasley."
They smiled. They were so close, closer than any two people could be. She turned her attention back to her daughter, who was braiding the flowers into a wreath. She glanced over at James and Albus, who were on the edges of the park, dueling with large sticks. They were not acting out of place in this Muggle play park. Even if they pretended the sticks were wands instead of swords, any watching Muggles would think they were playacting.
This was Hermione's favorite part of the week.
Hermione and Harry were in a play park with their children, as they did every Wednesday afternoon. Their children were in Muggle primary school before their Hogwarts admission at eleven years old. The Muggle school closed an hour earlier on Wednesday afternoons, so Hermione took time from her job as a healer at St. Mungo's, and Harry could always find time from his work on the Black Family Foundation (for Muggles and Half-Bloods), and they would spend the rest of the day together, like one big family.
Hermione loved Wednesdays. Ron was busy as an Auror at the Ministry; Ginny was working at Witch Weekly. Wednesday was time for Harry and Hermione to reconnect and spend time with their children.
Together.
**
Then, one day, one perfectly ordinary day in an ordinary week of an ordinary year, while doing ordinary things on a typical Wednesday afternoon, Hermione looked at Harry and she knew.
She knew.
She knew that she loved him.
Not that she loved him like a brother or loved him like a best friend, or even loved him like a lover. She just knew that she loved him. All parts of him, all aspects of him. She loved him in every way possible. It just was. It is. She loved him.
I love him.
The words just popped into her head as she sat on the edge of the sandpit, tracing letters in the sand tutoring Lily and Hugo in cursive writing, as Harry stood with Rose across the way, refereeing another imaginary duel between James and Albus.
She just knew.
It was as true as the sky being blue, and the sun setting in the west and rising in the east. It was as true as she knew the spelling of her name and her love for her children.
It was different than how she loved anyone else. She looked at her son and thought, That's my boy, Hugo. I love him tremendously, even when he infuriates me. Looking at her daughter led to the same conclusion. She then looked at Lily and thought, That's my niece, Lily, whom I love tremendously, and Lily's brothers caused the same reaction. She then contemplated Ron and thought, Ron is my husband whom I have spent most of my life with and have raised a family with and I love. For her parents? Mum and Dad I love, although they still feel anger toward me for erasing their memories during the war, but over time they have forgiven me, and I do miss them. For Professor McGonagall? My professor whom I respect and admire and I have love for.
But when she looked at Harry, when she thought of Harry, it was just love. Pure, open, complete. I love him. No caveats, no categorizing, no amendments. Just love.
She must have been staring, because Harry looked at her and smiled.
I love him.
She always knew that she loved Harry, but she thought it was the love of a best friend or almost brother, indeed, as a brother-in-law. In her youth she tried to analyze her feelings, thought they were a crush, then fierce loyalty. Now, over the years, it became a solid truth in her existence. She loved Harry.
And the way he was returning her look, he loved her, too.
They smiled.