Unofficial Portkey Archive

A/N: Hope you enjoy this update! Thanks as usual to those of you who've reviewed! Just to clear a few things up, this story goes all the way to the epilogue and then a little past it, as I mentioned in the summary. In other words, the epilogue IS going to happen. However, I've just changed the circumstances leading up to and surrounding it to make in H/Hr compatible. So everything is canon, but the purpose of the story is to show that H/Hr is still possible even with the epilogue. :)

Okay, so enjoy! Next chapter, it's Hermione's turn to get a surprise for her birthday. That's right, Hermione's birthday is finally getting some acknowledgment for once!

Chapter 19: Happy Birthday

Hermione stared blankly out of the window in Ron's room, observing the wilted plants that told of the intense July heat. She wiped her brow languidly, wishing she had thought to wear shorts.

Ron seemed equally lethargic (unsurprisingly) and lay face down on his bed, mumbling incoherently. She chose to ignore him, unsure if he had fallen asleep or was simply muttering to himself.

It was only when silence ensued several minutes later that she glanced toward the bed, where Ron was looking at her expectantly. She assumed his last mumble had been the start of a conversation.

"Sorry, I didn't catch that," Hermione said apologetically. "What did you say?"

"I asked if you'd given more thought to what classes you're going to take at Hogwarts."

"Um, not really. I figure I'll just take the same courses I would have if I'd gone to school last year." When she had informed the Headmistress that she intended to come back to Hogwarts to complete her seventh year, McGonagall had generously told Hermione that she could take as few classes as she desired, depending on her choice of career. Considering the fact that she had absolutely no idea what she career she wanted, she imagined she would simply cover her bases by taking all of the basic courses.

"What about you, Ron?" Hermione asked as nonchalantly as possible. Ron had so far shown no indication whatsoever of taking a step towards finding a job, a fact that was beginning to aggravate her. He hadn't given so much as a hint of what he wanted to do. She had refrained from mentioning it to him to avoid seeming insensitive, but now that Harry had taken the initiative to get work, Ron really had no excuse. In fact, she had been immensely surprised when Ron had not signed up to interview with Harry.

"What do you mean?" he said, flipping onto his back and staring at the ceiling.

She furrowed her brow, trying to breach the subject gently. "Well, I'm going to finish my seventh year at Hogwarts. What are you going to do in terms of, you know, finding a career?"

Ron frowned. "I'm not sure yet."

"You're not going to elaborate on that?"

"There's not much else to say," Ron shrugged.

Hermione sighed. "Surely you have some idea."

"Actually…there is something I've been thinking about," Ron admitted.

"That's great! What is it?"

"I don't know…" Ron hesitated, not meeting Hermione's eye.

"Just tell me," Hermione said. "Surely it can't be that bad."

"Well…I've been thinking about partnering up with George at the joke shop."

Or maybe it could be that bad.

Hermione didn't respond for a few moments, gathering her thoughts before she replied. "That sounds, er, interesting."

Ron rolled his eyes at her less than enthusiastic response. "I knew you'd react like that," he muttered.

Hermione narrowed her eyes. "React like what, exactly?"

"All patronizing and stuff. Just dismissing my idea like I'm five or something."

"Well, considering you wanted to be an Auror the last time I checked, your downsizing to a clerk at a joke shop isn't exactly the most admirable move in the world."

Ron finally sat up, glaring at Hermione. "But it's my move to make, so you don't have much say in it."

"Oh, but of course," Hermione fumed. "Only your mother has any sway in your life, after all."

Ron turned blood-red, sputtering furiously.

Hermione stood up abruptly, sick of the conversation, and stalked across the small room. "I'll see you tonight at Harry's party," she spat, and promptly slammed the door as hard as she could.

**************

Harry sipped reflectively on his butterbeer as he observed the crowd in the drawing room of Grimmauld Place. The showing was a bit stronger than usual, due no doubt to his defeat of Voldemort.

The majority of the surviving Order occupied the room, including Dedalus Diggle, Elphias Doge, and Hestia Jones, who were chatting amiably among themselves. Kingsley Shacklebolt towered over Mr. Weasley and Bill as they attempted to pick up a particular station on the Wizarding Wireless Network. Hagrid, of course, also stood apart and was engaged in an animated conversation with Charlie (no doubt about dragons), while Seamus and Dean stood mesmerized before Fleur, who was trying unsuccessfully to engage them in an intelligent conversation. Even Professor McGonagall attended, though she was being bombarded with ridiculous chatter courtesy of Xenophilius Lovegood. Percy was the only Weasley who couldn't attend, and had sent his profuse apologies to Harry.

He had slipped away briefly from Ron, Ginny, Luna, Neville, and, to Harry's great surprise, Hannah Abbott, who had accompanied Neville to the party, to seek some reprieve from the attention. He was also curious as to where Hermione was. The party had been going on for at least half an hour, and there was still no sign of her. Hermione was never late for anything, let alone her best friend's eighteenth birthday party. Harry had questioned Ron upon his arrival about her whereabouts, but he had simply shrugged and pushed past him to reach the food.

Harry was brought out of his thoughts by a sharp rap on the back of the head and he turned to see George Weasley grinning back at him.

"Happy birthday, Harry!" he said.

"Thanks, George," Harry replied, rubbing his head. "How's it going?"

George shrugged. "Can't really complain."

"Business been good?"

"Oh, yeah, business is great! I'm actually working on a couple of new products. Not really too inspired, but the show must go on!" he said halfheartedly.

"I'm sure it'll be great," Harry said. "I heard Ron might be coming to work for you."

George gave a snort of amusement. "Apparently. He is my little brother. I had to toss the little moocher some sort of a bone."

"I hope he chokes on it, too," came a familiar voice from behind him.

Harry laughed as he turned to see Hermione standing behind him with a slight smile on her face.

"I take it you and Ronniekins had a row?" George said lightly.

"No, of course not," Hermione said as she helped herself to some punch. "What would make you go and presume something like that?"

"Wow," George chuckled. "Ron sure brings out the nastiness in you."

"Unfortunately," she muttered into her drink as George walked away. She then hugged Harry fiercely and said, "Happy birthday, Harry. I'm so sorry I'm late."

"It's alright," he said. "I was just wondering where you were."

She frowned in Ron's direction. "I didn't really go anywhere. I pretty much just walked around for awhile and lost track of the time."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"Not really."

"Fair enough," Harry said. "Who needs emotional upheaval anyway?"

Hermione pursed her lips, suppressing a smile. "Vastly overrated."

"It's not like talking about your feelings ever helps anybody anyway," Harry continued dryly. "Bottling your feelings up is way more effective."

At that statement, Hermione finally allowed the smile she had been holding back to burst forth, but it faded almost immediately. "It's not like there's much to talk about anyway. It's really just the usual nonsense he pulls."

"If it was just the usual stuff, you probably wouldn't have been late," Harry countered.

Hermione tugged slightly at the sleeve of her shirt, shrugging. "I guess it just bothered me more than it normally does."

"Why?"

Hermione thought about it. "I'm not really sure," she admitted.

Harry raised an eyebrow but said nothing.

Hermione turned away slightly, eager to move on to a different subject.

"Anyway, I brought something for you," she said, picking up a gift from the table that Harry hadn't noticed.

"You didn't set it down when you came in?" Harry asked, referring to the gift table at the entrance of the drawing room.

Hermione bit her lip. "Actually, I wanted to give this one to you in private."

"Really? Right now?"

"If you wouldn't mind."

Harry set down his drink. "Of course not. Let's go."

He immediately grasped her hand and weaved through the crowd to exit the drawing room. Once they reached the hallway, Harry quickly led Hermione into the nearest bedroom, where the booming from the party was much more subdued. Hermione immediately sat on the edge of the bed, clutching her gift nervously in her lap. Harry took a seat next to her.

"Ok," she said, moving to hand Harry his gift, "keep in mind that this isn't just from me. I just put it together."

Harry accepted the present, and proceeded to unwrap the dark blue paper that covered it. A sleek, mahogany-colored leather album sat on his lap, not unlike the book he had received from Hagrid in his first year. However, when he opened it, photos were not brought into view - instead, the pages were filled with writing.

He looked at Hermione questioningly.

"It's from before the war," she answered. "Before we left to look for Horcruxes."

She left it at that.

Turning his gaze toward the first letter, he began to read:Dear Harry,

I cannot express just how very proud I am of you. It has been such a wonderful honor to watch you become the brilliant young man you are today. I do hope I'm not out of line in saying that I consider you one of my own children - and I know I am not alone in that sentiment. You have no idea how thankful I am that Ronald sat in the same compartment as you on the train in your first year - he could not have asked for a better friend, and I could not have asked for a lovelier blessing on our family.

Very sincerely, Mrs. Weasley

Harry smiled softly at the note. There was no replacement for the mother he had never gotten to know, but he knew that if anyone could possibly come close, it was Mrs. Weasley.

The letter immediately following was from Ginny.Dear Harry,

When I sat down to write this, there was only one thing flashing through my mind, and it was this: I can't believe you're about to leave. I always hoped there would be more time for us to spend together without worrying about all this You-Know-Who rubbish. But, as our Hermione would probably put it, the sands of time have slipped through the hourglass, and our precious time of love and youth is nearly up (I never much understood that Muggle poetry, either).

I really, really, REALLY (hint, hint) wish I could go with you, but I also understand that this is something you need to do on your own. I will be missing you and thinking of you every moment you're gone. Oh, and don't worry about that whole defeating-the-Dark-Lord thing. Whenever the time comes, you're going to tear him apart! YOU CAN DO IT!

XOXOXO (Muggle-code for "hugs and kisses." Cool, right?)

Love forever and always, Ginny

Harry shook his head, grinning, as he turned the page. Leave it to Ginny to make her letter a pep talk.

The next notes he read through were from other Hogwarts students (primarily Gryffindors). Neville, Dean, and Seamus had all written short letters, as well as Luna, who had included an extensive list of edible plants and insects, most if which Harry was sure didn't exist.

He thought that he had read through every letter until he turned to the final page, where he was met by Hermione's unmistakable and pristine writing. Intensely curious, he bent to read once more:Dear Harry,

You have always been such an important person in my life. And I suppose that is precisely why the thought of you no longer being a part of it terrifies me so much. A short (or maybe not so short) seven years ago, I never would have dreamed of having a friend like you. I never would have dreamed when I read about you in all those history and defense books that I would ever meet you, never dreamed that the scrawny (sorry) little boy in that train compartment would be - and continue to grow up to be - the greatest man, wizard, and friend that I've ever known.

All these years we've been together and you've always been there for me, always been there to rescue me (I'll concede that I never complain when your "saving-people-thing" is benefitting me) from the biggest or smallest of dangers. I can always laugh or cry with you, and can always be myself around you. I'll never be able to fully and accurately put into words how much our friendship - all the times we had at Hogwarts - means to me. I can only hope that my friendship and presence in your life has been worth half of what yours has been to me.

I'll try to leave all my anxieties and fears about your future on this page, so that I won't be the blubbering mess I am right now - so I can be strong for you (and me) on this "mission" we soon leave for. I refuse to write down my principal fear - I refuse to give it the kind of credibility that the written word provides for such absurd thoughts as that. I'll just leave you with this one last comment. This is a short poem from my readings that won't seem to leave my mind until I write it down now: "To live in this world, you must be able to do three things: to love what is mortal; to hold it against your bones knowing your own life depends on it; and, when the time comes to let it go, to let it go."

I'm afraid that if this is what is truly required to live in this world, then I fully relinquish my hold on it. The first two requirements have come to me frighteningly easy, Harry; but this last duty is not one I am prepared to fulfill. So it is with confidence that I have decided I will not give these letters to you tomorrow as I had intended, but will instead give them to you when all of this is finally done and over with, when all of us come through on the other side unharmed and happy, and, most importantly, side by side.

Love always, Hermione

Harry glanced over towards the window, where Hermione stood with her arms crossed. Her foot was tapping nervously, probably in anticipation of when he read her letter. He stood up from the bed and crossed to her, and she turned toward him when he had neared.

"Did you finish it?" she asked.

Without answering, Harry enveloped her in his arms, and she melted into his embrace, resting her head against his chest. "Thank you," he murmured into her hair. Hermione didn't answer, only squeezing him harder and burying her head deeper. They stood that way for some time, and eventually returned to the party, where Harry received numerous other gifts: candy from Ron, Muggle clothes from Ginny, a penknife from Hagrid, a collection of Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes products from George specifically intended for Harry's Auror career (Decoy Detonators, Instant Darkness Powder, Extendable Ears and the sort), and even a Quidditch set from the rest of the Weasleys.

But despite all these gifts, none of them came close to the small album of notes Hermione had given him, heartfelt messages alluding to a more innocent time not so long ago and the friendships that persisted through it.

And though the party lasted long into the night, for reasons Harry could not understand, the lone memory that persisted clearly in his mind was the small moment he had shared with Hermione, holding his best friend in his arms.

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