And She Knew
By AddisonJ
JKR owns Harry Potter
For my beta, DeeMichelle
Ficldet #4: The Love of her Life
Hermione was not sure when she realized that she no longer referred to Ron as the love of her life. She had certainly teased him about her being the love of his life.
It often happened when she was trying to get him to do something he would be inclined not to do. "Honey, can you pick up the kids from school? I'm in the middle of this formula, and you know I'm the love of your life." Or, "I can't seem to get this door unstuck. Can you help me? You know I'm the love of your life." It was a cheerful phrase that was both accurate and amusing. She didn't use it so often that it became tiresome..
One particularly wet day when she was juggling groceries and children, and Ron was there at the ready to assist her, she opened her mouth to say "Oh, Ron! You're the love of my life" then she stopped, and said instead, "You're just wonderful."
Ron was busy drying off the children, joking that if they were any wetter they'd be thrown into Grandma Granger's clothes dryer and would shrink to half their size, so he did not notice that Hermione did not use her usual "I'm the love of your life" idiom.
But Hermione noticed. She remained slightly preoccupied for the rest of the evening, half noticing the food she was cooking because she just felt that something wasn't quite right.
In bed that evening, as Hermione pretended to catch up on academic journals and Ron was completing some paperwork for his job, he glanced over at her and said, "You all right, 'Mione? You seemed a bit off tonight."
"Oh, just trying to stay on top of everything. Just feels so overwhelming at times, y'know?" she replied, smiling at him, grateful that he cared enough to notice and comment, but at the same time fearful that he might have also paid attention to her changed semantics hours earlier.
Ron smiled and patted her hand. "If anyone can do it all, it'll be you, 'Mione," he said.
Hermione returned the smile and felt a dagger of guilt race up her body. "Thanks, Ron," she responded, hoping the dagger would stop before it flew out of the top of her head. She sighed, placed the journal on the nightstand and said the Nox spell to turn out the light. "I think I'm done for the day. Good night."
"I'll be right behind you. I just have a couple more pages."
"Don't rush. I'll just rest my eyes."
Ron laughed. "Your 'resting your eyes' is either completely asleep or wide awake but eyes closed."
Hermione teased, "You know me too well. All my mysteries have been solved." She instantly regretted saying the words, but Ron did not notice.
"After almost our entire lives together, what do you expect?" he replied.
Hermione smiled, and leaned over to kiss her husband on the cheek. "Good night, love," she said, and Ron replied in turn. She then curled onto her side, her back to him.
Why can't I call Ron the love of my life? The thought terrified her. What had happened? What had she done? She certainly wasn't having an affair. She hadn't fallen in love with anyone since she last told him he was the love of her life. What happened?
Harry happened. Since she realized that she loved Harry in such a huge, open, complete way, she simply couldn't use those words with Ron anymore. She still loved Ron, he was a dear friend to her and partner in life, but she no longer felt he was the love of her life. And she knew that she could never say those words to him again without it being a lie.
Tears pricked at her eyes. It was like the passing of an era, an era that began when they officially became a couple, through their courtship and marriage (Too young, her parents thought, Just the right age, Molly and Arthur thought. What did Harry think? He never said and she never asked), through setting up homes, having children, and developing careers. Was this the end of their marriage? No, it didn't seem that way. Maybe this was a midlife crisis? She wasn't even close to forty and witches lived much longer than Muggles. Maybe they have multiple midlife crises? A quarter-life crisis perhaps?
She was thinking too much, of course. Overanalyzing. That would be her epitaph. Not "Here lies Hermione Granger-Weasley, part of the Golden Trio who Defeated He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named" but "Here lies Hermione Granger-Weasley, who overanalyzed and thought too much."
Was she in love with Harry? No, she knew it was different, even bigger than that. He was her rock. He was the love of her life. She had realized it that day in the play park, and the knowledge kept her going, actually. It kept her grounded and safe and sane. When she thought the world was going mad, when some doubled her work, or she couldn't seem to juggle all aspects of her life as well as she thought she should, she would think, Harry Potter will always support me, and Harry Potter thinks I deserve the best, and she felt better. It was the embodiment of a thick warm blanket that was suddenly placed over her shoulder> S could pull it tight and close to her, and it would keep her warm and safe and dry. That was Harry's love for her. It helped her be herself. It gave her sanctuary.
Hermione punched her pillow a few more times in frustration.
"Are you still resting your eyes?" Ron joked.
Hermione rolled her eyes and punched the pillow again.
"Maybe it's best that I shut up now," Ron suggested.
Hermione turned, then glared at Ron and punched the pillow one more time, before turning away from him and staring at the wall again.
What do I do now? she thought to herself, still frustrated. Now that I know? The love of her life is actually her best friend, her brother-in-law, her rock and foundation. The father of her nephews and niece, whom she loved like her own children. What do I do? She sighed, then decided. Nothing. Because nothing else has changed. She has always loved Harry. She just never knew it. Now she does. And there is nothing more to do. She does not want to end her marriage to Ron, and can't imagine Harry leaving Ginny. He is much too loyal, too concerned with others. So nothing happens. Nothing.
And she could wonder, what if? What if she had realized this seventh year? And what if Harry had felt the same way, and realized it, too?
No! She stopped that thought before it continued down a path she did not want to pursue.
She gripped her pillow tightly. Go to sleep, she tried to will herself. It will be better in the morning.
No, it wouldn't.
Hermione punched the pillow again. With eyes closed, she felt Ron shift slightly from his side of the bed, but after their last discourse, he knew better than to say anything at all.
What will she do? Nothing, she silently confirmed. She would go on the same as before. She had always loved Harry. He was always the love of her life. But what was different now? This time she knew. And, with this knowledge, was the capacity for decisions based on said knowledge. And her decision was to do nothing. She had no real complaints about her life or her marriage to Ron. The alternative, to leave, to destroy the past fifteen years together, to destroy two families, was unfathomable. She was comfortable in this imperfect, but good-enough life.
And would Harry ever leave his wife? No, he was too loyal, and would be too upset about the impact on their children. So she would do nothing.
But, upon making that decision and seeking comfort in it, none was to be found. Because she knew, deep down inside, that she was just postponing the inevitable. The downward slide had begun. She could no longer be completely content knowing that she had a deeper love for a man other than Ron; especially knowing that Harry more than likely felt the same.
She knew she and Ron would stay together, but for how long? How long until the tiny cracks that were beginning to form spread into crevices, and the gradual decline of their marriage would increase in steepness and become as fast a decline as a slick water slide at a theme park.
She sat up.
"Can't sleep?" Ron asked.
She looked at him, shook her head, and trundled off to the kitchen for a glass of water.
This is the first day of the end of my marriage, she thought.
And she knew.
THE END