The sun was setting over the mountains in the distance, as the group returned to Zhihao's home. They were relieved to find they could still remember their visit to the Forgotten City. Zhihao confirmed their memories of the place would stay intact, but said they wouldn't be able to write down any details of what they'd seen or magically extract their memories of the invisible path they took to the city's entrance.
They were about to ascend the stairs to their rooms, planning to eat some of the food they'd picked up in France the day before, when Zhihao said roughly. "You eat with family."
"Oh. We don't want to bother—" Lily began.
"Rude to say no. Dinner at seven," Zhihao clipped before disappearing into the back of the house.
They went to wash up and when they returned downstairs for dinner an hour later, they were surprised to find a crowd in the main room of the house. Zhihao, who already had a sizable family with four children, had invited one of his siblings and her family over for dinner. The scene reminded Harry of Sundays at the Burrow, with kids of all ages walking underfoot and several conversations going on at once.
"You Fire Lizard witches!" Zhihao's wife said when she spotted Hermione and Lily. The small Chinese woman took both of Hermione's hands in hers and gave her a small bow, then did the same for Lily. "Welcome. Zhihao like you." James snorted and Hermione beamed like she used to do in school when she was rewarded House Points.
Dinner had just ended and they were currently in a sitting room at the back of the house, enjoying time with Zhihao's immediate family. James was playing Xiangqi with Zhihao, which was a Chinese version of chess. Hermione was on the floor by the fire, listening intently as the two middle girls showed off their collection of dolls. And Harry and his mum were sitting on the sofa, listening to Zhihao's wife—whose name no one could pronounce, and thought it best not to try—chatter on about her children while she rocked a baby to sleep in her arms.
Zhihao's wife excused herself, saying she needed to put the baby down, and left Lily and Harry alone on the sofa. After a few minutes, Lily wrapped an arm around Harry and pulled him into a half-hug.
"Have I said how much I missed you?"
He smiled. "A few times."
"Well, I did. A lot. And—" She dropped her arm from around his shoulders and turned to face him on the sofa, pulling her legs up under her. When she spoke again, her tone was serious.
"Harry, I know we agreed to put the past behind us—and you've been so great on this trip—but I have to confess —because I don't want you to find out another way and go back to hating us again—that the mission... I'm the one who insisted they go to the Manor that night, rather than waiting and preparing for longer. I don't even think Hermione knows that and—I obviously never imagined what would happen. If we'd taken more time, we may have been able to avoid the whole thing."
"Let's just put it behind us," Harry said quickly, looking over at Hermione, who was braiding the hair on one of the dolls while the two girls looked on. "I forgive you. And I missed you too."
A part of him wanted his mum to keep speaking, so he could finally learn the secret behind their big rift. It obviously had something to do with Hermione and the war, but he was worried if he got caught in a conversation about the past, it would be too obvious that he had no idea what Lily was talking about.
The smaller girl climbed into Hermione's lap and began playing with her curls. Lily leaned into Harry and murmured, "She's really good with kids."
He rolled his eyes. "Subtle, Mum."
Lily smiled widely. "I've told you before, it's your job to have a lot of kids. Your dad was an only child, my sister is...you know...and we only had you. So, you need three kids minimum to fill out the family. Preferably more."
"You didn't fill out the family," he pointed out.
"Yeah," she sighed. "But there was a war going on, and even though Voldemort went away, we always knew he was coming back. I didn't think it was a good idea to have another kid. And by the time it was safe...I was too old." She gave him a big smile. "No regrets, though. I rather like the one kid I ended up with."
Harry returned her smile before turning back to Hermione. She was sitting back on her hands while the older girl tried to braid her hair and the younger girl, who was still in Hermione's lap, gave her sister directions. Hermione was good with kids, but Harry already knew that. He saw her with Teddy all the time. His chest clenched as he thought of his godson, who didn't exist in this world.
After a few minutes, Lily went to join Hermione and the girls on the floor. Harry watched his mum help the older girl finish braiding Hermione's hair, then Hermione stood and sat in Lily's abandoned spot. "Hi," she said, leaning her head back against the cushions.
"Nice hair," he said.
She smiled. "I know. It's unbearably crooked, isn't it? I'm trying not to think about it."
"My mum thinks you're really good with kids. She made a point to tell me."
"Hah! Subtle."
"That's what I said, but she wasn't trying to be subtle."
Hermione turned her head and Harry could feel his eyes on her. "You're sad," she said softly.
Harry just shrugged.
"Because your parents won't meet your kids?"
He nodded.
"But at least now you'll be able to tell your kids about them. More than before."
"Yeah, thanks to you," he replied, taking her hand and linking their fingers together.
"Are you sad about Teddy too?" she asked, looking down at their clasped hands.
His lips turned up. She was too good. "I miss him," Harry admitted. "And he doesn't exist in this world. That's just so…"
"Sad."
"Yeah."
Hermione sat up on the sofa and turned to him. "As far as I can tell, this is one of the happiest worlds for you. You have your parents, our side won the war, you didn't have the pressure of killing Voldemort, and you have a brilliant fiancée," she added with a wink. "But still...you miss things from our world."
Harry just hummed.
"I think that's life," Hermione said, turning to face Lily, who was letting the girls braid her hair now. "You can't have it all."
"No, you can't, can you?" He settled back on the sofa, then lifted their hands to his lips and placed a soft kiss on her knuckles.
"Are you okay?" Harry asked. He'd just seen Hermione wince as she stood up from her trunk.
Hermione waved him away. They'd just returned to their room for the evening and she was about to take a long bath, hoping it would help with the ever-present pain in her side.
"You look like you're in pain."
"I'm fine. I'm just sore. We've been very active the past few days and I don't think this Hermione's body is used to it. Honestly, mine wouldn't be used to it either." She forced a smile on her face.
"Uh huh," Harry replied doubtfully.
"I'm fine," she repeated. "I'm going to take a bath, that should help, and I'll stay back tomorrow. I've had enough of walking on air and flying around for a lifetime."
"Oh. About that. I'm going to stay with you, if that's okay."
"Are you sure?" The plan was for the group to return to the Forgotten City the next day, this time with Zhihao's sister as a guide, which was one of the reasons Zhihao had invited her to dinner. "I thought you'd like the chance to explore the Forgotten City unburdened by your pathetically scared friend."
Harry shrugged. The real reason he wanted to stay back was that he wanted to search his parents' room for the letter the other Harry had sent them breaking their estrangement. He was sick of not knowing what their rift was about. Also, he could use the day to study the photos he'd brought from the other Harry and Hermione's flat. But he wasn't going to admit this to Hermione, since he knew she'd disapprove.
"Well, it's your decision. Um, I'm going to get that bath."
"Yeah. Okay." Harry grabbed the box of photos and began looking through them as Hermione left the room.
When Hermione returned from her bath, Harry was asleep. He was lying on his back with his glasses still on and the box of photos laying open on the bed next to him. She hung up her towel and went to collect the box, smiling when she saw the photo on top.
Hermione was in the Gryffindor Common Room with Harry and Dean, who were wearing Quidditch robes. They were all holding Butterbeers and smiling under a Congratulations Gryffindor banner. Judging by their ages, it was taken during their last year at Hogwarts.
Hermione and Harry had figured out earlier, based on the date of their graduation photos, that they'd attended an extra year of school. Adding in what James had said two days ago, about Lucius controlling the school in Harry's Seventh year, Hermione guessed it had happened similar to how it had in their world. She was likely forced to stay away from Hogwarts that year, since she was a Muggleborn, and had gone back to complete her final year after the war ended.
Hermione closed the box and placed it on the bedside table, then removed Harry's glasses and placed them on top of the box. She knelt at the edge of the bed and let out a large sigh. The Harry in this time had returned to Hogwarts with Hermione. She had begged Harry and Ron to return to Hogwarts with her in their world, hoping they could recapture some of the childhood they'd lost, but Harry had refused, eager to dive into Auror training. And Ron had followed Harry, of course.
Hermione lifted her hand and brushed Harry's hair away from his forehead, revealing the clear spot of skin that was scarred in their world. A few tears fell down her face. This was the life her Harry deserved. One where he was loved and not forced to grow up too quickly. One where he had fond memories of his school days, not terrifying ones.
She wished she could give more than fourteen days of this life to Harry, but even that might have been too much. Only time would tell. Hermione kissed her fingertips and pressed them to his forehead. She rose slowly, to avoid irritating the wound at her side, then walked around the bed and climbed under the covers next to him.
A few hours later, Hermione shot up in bed, waking Harry instantly. "Wha—? Hermione?" he mumbled, turning on his side to grab his glasses from the bedside table. He pulled himself up to a sitting position and looked at Hermione, who was sitting with her legs up and her forehead pressed against her knees.
She was breathing heavily and may have even been sobbing, but he couldn't tell with her face hidden. "Hermione," he said, placing a hand on her back. "You're safe."
She simply nodded into her legs.
"Did you have a nightmare?"
She nodded again, then said in a shaky voice, "A memory, technically. Godric's Hollow."
Harry cringed and shifted closer to her, wrapping an arm awkwardly around her shoulders. "That's a bad one," he whispered. "I have that one a lot."
"Yeah," she said with a breath.
They stayed quiet for a while, Harry holding Hermione as she tried to regain control of her breathing. He wanted to say something really good, but knew there were no words to make what had happened at Godric's Hollow that night okay.
Hermione turned her head toward Harry and he shifted back so he could see her face. Her eyes were wet with tears but she didn't seem to be actively crying anymore. "I'm sorry about your wand," she whispered. "I know when I broke it, I broke your spirit too, and I never meant for that to happen."
Why was she focusing on his wand? After everything that had happened that night, that was what her brain was choosing to fixate on? He pulled her back against his chest. "Don't worry about the wand. You got us out of there. You healed me. I would have been dead if you hadn't been there."
Hermione hummed.
After another minute or so, she pulled away and settled back under the covers. "Sorry for waking you. Between our nightmares, the aggressive travel schedule, and all the time changes, I don't think we're going to sleep on this trip."
"We can sleep when we're dead," he said as he turned on his side to face her.
"I always hated that saying."
He gave her a sad smile. "Me too. It certainly came from someone who didn't have regular interactions with death. I bet the other Harry would say something like that."
That made her smile. "Bitter, much?"
"Yeah," he said with a dark laugh. "Anyway, we can take a nap tomorrow while my parents are at the Forgotten City."
"Okay."
Harry turned around to return his glasses to the bedside table and when he settled onto his back, Hermione said tentatively, "Harry?"
"Yeah?"
"Can I come over there?"
"Oh, er, yeah."
Hermione shifted close to him, gripped the arm closest to her with both of her hands, then rested her forehead against his shoulder. "Sorry," she said in a muffled voice. "I thought I was finished being scared when I laid back down. I just need a few more minutes."
Harry sighed as he returned to his side and pulled her into a firm hug. "You apologize too much." He propped his chin on top of her head. "Take all the time you need."
When Hermione was finally calm, she let go of Harry and returned to her side of the bed, leaving Harry feeling bereft. "Thanks," she murmured, then turned on her side so she was facing away from him.
"Hermione?"
"Hmm?"
"You live alone. What happens when you have a nightmare and there's no one there to comfort you?"
She paused for a long time, then said eventually, "I won't be living alone for much longer."
"Right."
He was relieved she was turned the other way since he was sure the expression on his face wasn't good. Hermione was going to live with Ron. Duh. Next spring, they were going to be married and would move in together. They had even started searching for a larger flat. That was a good thing. Harry should be happy for his friends, not struggling to swallow the knot that had unexpectedly formed in his throat.
"Hermione?"
She didn't answer. She'd fallen back asleep. It was for the best since he had no idea what he'd been about to ask. He just wanted to hear her voice. Harry returned to his back and watched the shadows play across the ceiling.
It took him a long time to fall back asleep.
Day Five
The following day, Harry didn't waste any time sneaking into his parents' room across the hall. As soon as he saw them leaving from the window, he rushed out of the room he was sharing with Hermione, giving her some excuse about having to use the loo.
He found the letter easily, in his mum's trunk, and made a copy before returning to his and Hermione's room. He felt a little guilty but reasoned his dad was one of the Marauders, so would understand, and Harry was just doing this so he could better connect with his parents for the rest of the trip. Also, he was incredibly curious to fight out what this big fight was about.
Hermione was sitting on the bed, reading through the other Hermione's planner, when Harry walked back into the room. She was puzzling over an entry titled R&R that was listed at the beginning of each day. Hermione's first thought was that it meant Read and Review, but that didn't make sense in the context of this Hermione's life. Maybe it meant Rest and Relaxation, but that was a weird thing to put at the start of each day.
She looked up and saw Harry frowning as he read a letter. Odd. Had he brought a letter to the loo with him? She was about to return to studying her planner when she froze. "Harry? Where did you get that letter?"
Harry didn't reply. He was caught up in whatever he was reading. Then, the real reason for him staying behind today hit her. She'd thought it odd that he was giving up on a whole day alone with his parents, but now it made sense. "Did you steal that for your parents' room?"
He waved dismissively as his eyes scanned the parchment. "I made a copy. The original is still there."
"Harry! That is a huge violation of privacy."
"I wrote it," he said defensively.
"No, you didn't. The other Harry—" She cut off when he finally looked up at her and fixed her with a stern glare. He was wearing that serious expression that Ginny had coined his 'Auror Potter face.'
"You're injured," he said.
Hermione just shrugged.
Harry looked down at the letter and began to read aloud. "I'm sorry I blamed you for what happened to Hermione. I know you never meant for her to get hurt and I know she wanted to help in any way she could. But when the person you love most is forced to suffer every day, with no shot at recovery, you start searching around for someone to blame. I hated that you went to great lengths to protect me but didn't make the same consideration for her."
"That's what the fight was about?" Hermione asked, perking up.
"Don't change the subject. It says you suffer each day. Why is this the first I'm hearing of this? How bad is it?"
She put the planner on the bedside table and went to stand next to Harry. She tried to get a look at the letter, but he pulled it away. "Answer me, Hermione."
"Just drop it. I'm fine. What else does the letter say? I don't approve of you stealing it, by the way, but it would be good for us to know the details of this rift."
"Hermione," Harry seethed, annoyed she was trying to play this off as nothing. "When we were at the flat, arguing about whether or not to come on this trip, why didn't you bring this up? You said we'd be found out, said it wasn't fair to the other couple, but you never said, 'Oh, right, when I'm in this body, I have to deal with excruciating pain and would like to get back to my pain-free body, please.'"
"It's not excruciating. I can handle it for two weeks. At least I'm not like the other Hermione who has to live with it."
"I didn't know what I was asking of you when I insisted we stay! You should have told me. I deserved to know!"
"Right, and how would that have gone?" she snapped back. "I mention the pain, you grudgingly agree to go back to our world, but once there, you resent me and proceed to punish me for the next few months."
"I would never do that," he countered.
"Yes, you would. I'm not allowed to disagree with you and stay your friend. You've made that clear over and over again."
Harry shook his head. "What are you talking about?"
"I don't know what it is about me, because you don't do it with Ron and Ginny, but if I step out of line, you don't hesitate to punish me for it."
"What are you—?"
"In Third Year, there was the Firebolt incident," she cut in, holding up her hand and counting on her fingers. "I was doing what I thought was right to protect you, and you didn't speak to me for weeks. Then there was Snape's book. Same sort of thing. I knew it was bad and you pushed me away for daring to disagree with you. Choosing to withhold your friendship rather than sitting down and having a conversation with me about the issue."
Harry opened his mouth to defend himself, but she kept going.
"Meanwhile, Ron abandons you at your lowest point—twice!—and you welcome him back with open arms. Where's his punishment?"
"Hermione. I didn't—"
"And you say you have no idea why we're not close anymore, but I can tell you why. I'm still on probation from what I said to you at your Engagement Party over a year ago."
Harry stepped back, alarmed by the direction this conversation had taken. It was like that time in Auror Training when the Red Cap had attacked him. One moment, the creature had been sleeping peacefully in a hole in the ground and the next, he was trying to gouge Harry's eyes out.
"So, you asked me to stay in this world," she continued, "and I had a lot of reasons not to, the pain being one of them, but I went with it because I didn't want to deny you. I can't—I don't know why—but I can't say no to you. People say I'm strong, but for some reason, I'm not when it comes to you."
Before Harry could say another word, or even reach out for her, she marched past him out of the room, slamming the door behind her.
Harry stood completely still for several minutes, replaying everything Hermione had just said. He felt sick and went to sit on the bed, registering vaguely that the sheets on Hermione's side were twisted, probably from her nightmare. That remembered their conversation the night before and how she'd apologized for breaking his wand.
He bent forward as hot tears stung his eyes. That was another example of him resenting her for something that wasn't her fault, then treating her like shit. Fuck. She was right about him. And the Engagement Party, was she right about that too?
He thought back to that night.
Harry and Ginny had hosted a large party at Grimmauld Place to celebrate their recent engagement. They invited all their friends and most of her family. It was loud and crowded and fun, mostly, except for halfway through, when Harry felt like he was going to suffocate and had to get away. He disappeared upstairs and hid in the attic, thinking of Buckbeak and Sirius and wishing his godfather were here to help him sort through the emotions that were pushing on him like an oppressive weight.
When he heard someone climbing the ladder a few moments later, he perked up. It must be Ginny. That was exactly who he needed right then, his future wife. Maybe he could try to put his thoughts into words and she could —
It wasn't Ginny's head that poked out of the entrance to the attic. It was Hermione.
At that moment, Harry was angry. It was always Hermione and for once, he wanted it to be Ginny. He wanted Ginny to be the one to notice he was off, to see him slip away, and to guess accurately at where he was hiding. It should be his fiancée here with him, but she was probably downstairs showing off her ring, not even aware of his absence.
"You seem down," Hermione said as she took a seat next to him.
"I'm okay," he said gruffly.
"Do you want to tell me what's wrong?"
"No."
"Okay."
She didn't leave, however. She just leaned back on her hands and stretched her legs out in front of her.
"You can go back to the party," he said after several minutes.
"I'm okay here."
"I'm fine, you know. I just—er—wish it wasn't just Ginny's family here, celebrating tonight." This was true, but not the reason he was up here. That was due to something else, something he couldn't name, but he hoped this excuse would be enough for Hermione. He should have known better.
"Yeah. Maybe that's it. Or maybe you're tired of being who everyone wants you to be."
"What?"
"Maybe you don't want to fight dark wizards. Maybe you don't want to speak at events and give interviews all the time. And maybe you don't want to marry Ginny. But you do it, because you think that's what you're supposed to be doing."
He was quiet. "Or maybe I'm missing the people I lost," he said sharply. "And maybe I'm sick of my best friend always finding fault with everything. We get it, Hermione. You're perfect. The rest of us aren't but we're trying our best."
"That's not what I was saying at—"
"Look around. The war is over. Why are you determined to keep the conflict alive?" These weren't Harry's words, but Ginny's from a recent fight of theirs.
Hermione left shortly after, going back to her flat while Harry returned to the party and pretended nothing had happened.
Harry and Hermione hadn't talked about that night since, and Harry avoided thinking about it as much as possible. But he had pulled away from Hermione, hadn't he? But it wasn't because he was angry with her. It was because she had challenged his version of happiness, trying to claim he wasn't chasing his own desires, but other peoples'.
That was a particularly unsettling thought for someone who had lived under a dooming prophecy for most of his life. Hermione had pulled at the loose string of the "happily-ever-after" Harry was desperately trying to build for himself. He was afraid that if he spent too much time alone with her, she'd pull again and unravel everything.
As the truth of her accusation settled in, tightness grew in his chest. Harry doubled over and wrapped his arms around himself. After the war, and all that danger he'd put Hermione in. After what happened at Malfoy Manor, almost losing her a few weeks later at Gringotts, and again during the Final Battle, he promised himself he'd never let anyone hurt her again. Then look at what he'd gone and done.
Harry found Hermione outside, sitting under a tree on a hill. She was looking off at the mountain range in the distance. When he was halfway up the hill, she turned to him and he stopped in place, waiting to see if she was going to yell some more, or maybe hex him. He deserved both.
She didn't do either of those things. Hermione inhaled deeply, exhaled, then turned back to the mountains. Harry watched her for a few moments and thought, bizarrely— as now wasn't the time for these types of thoughts—that she looked beautiful. Her lips were dark and plump from where she'd chewed on them, her eyes were shining from recent tears, and her hair was flowing freely in the wind.
He closed the distance between them and took a seat on the grass, leaving a few feet of space between them, just in case. When she didn't immediately send him away, he started the speech he'd worked out back in the room.
"Teddy does this thing," he began.
She turned to glare at him.
"I know. It's a bad start. Just—bear with me. It gets better."
She stared at him blankly, then turned back to the mountains.
"Okay," he said, stopping to take a breath. "Teddy does this thing. When there's a new situation, like a visit to the zoo or going to a new person's house, he'll be really good while we're there and as soon as we're alone, he'll lose it on me. I asked Andromeda what that was about and do you know what she said?"
Hermione stayed quiet.
"She said Teddy lashes out at me because he feels safe with me. When he's around people he doesn't trust, he's on his best behavior and once he returns to a safe place, he lets all that stress go. So, while it seems like he likes me the least, since he's always yelling and screaming when it's just us, it actually means that he loves me."
Hermione turned to Harry and sneered. "When is this speech going to get better?"
Ouch. Okay, he deserved that one. Harry shifted and turned so he was facing her. "I'm like Teddy," he explained. "I'm a fucking mess, you know that, and you know why, and—you were right. I'm awful to you and I honestly never noticed. But you asked why it was you, and not Ron and Ginny, and it's—it's because I feel safe with you. Safer than I feel with anyone else."
She narrowed her eyes at him. "You're a tantruming toddler?"
"It appears so. I think I get stressed and bottle it up for too long and when I let it go, I choose you, because I know you'll come back and everyone else, well, I'm not as sure they will. And it's not fair but now that I know about it, I think that'll help. And you should tell me when I'm being an idiot and I'll fix it. I promise." He reached forward and placed his hands on her leg. "I'm sorry, Hermione," he whispered. "Please, forgive me."
Hermione looked down at his hands, up at him, then down at his hands again. She pulled them up off her leg and his heart dropped as he saw the next movement play out—her placing them on the ground and walking away from him. But she surprised him. She turned them over on her legs so his palms were facing up, then rested her palms on his.
"That was really deep," she said softly, keeping her gaze down on their hands.
"I came up with it all on my own. Though, honestly, if I hadn't had that conversation with Andromeda recently, I would have never figured it out."
She smiled slightly. After looking down for a while longer, she lifted her head and met his gaze. "I'm never going to leave you, Harry. No matter how much you push, looking for that point where I've finally had enough and give it all up as a bad job, you're not going to find it. So please, stop looking."
"Why do you put up with me?" he breathed.
She shrugged and looked back down at their hands in her lap. "You're my best friend and, I don't know, we're meant to be in each other's lives."
Hermione started to pull away but he wrapped his hands around hers to keep her in place. "Wait." He moved so he was sitting across from her. "I need to tell you something. Something I thought was obvious, but based on my actions since—well, the entire time we've known each other—probably hasn't been."
Hermione nodded for him to continue.
"I love you."
Hermione inhaled sharply.
"I'm sorry that's a surprise to you," he said as he moved his hands up her arms. "That just confirms how shitty of a friend I've been. You are one of the most important people in my life, the person I feel safest with, and it kills me that I'm not that person for you. I hate that you didn't tell me about the pain. I hate that you feel like you need to guard yourself around me. And I—I know it's all my fault and I'm sorry."
Hermione dropped her head and Harry saw a few tears fall onto the grass. He placed one hand under her chin and pushed it up. "I love that you love me no matter what," he continued. "You love me during those rare moments when I manage to accidentally do something impressive, and more importantly, all the other times when I'm being an idiot. I want you to know I love you that way, too. The bad parts—which, for you, are few and far between— and the good parts."
At first, she said nothing. She just sat there watching him as tears slowly streamed down her face. Then, she gave him a sad smile. "You're right. That speech did get better."
Harry leaned forward and hugged her. She buried her head in his chest. "How badly does it hurt, really?" he asked, running his fingers through her curls.
"It's not so bad. Honestly, I would have put up with ten times the pain for this moment. I didn't know how to get us here. I should have yelled at you sooner."
He leaned back and smiled down at her. "Yes, you should have."
She gave him a shy smile and started wiping her tears with the back of her sleeve.
"Hey," he said, reaching out to wipe away a few tears she'd missed. "I think it's time for us to go home. I was thinking we'd tell my parents, so they can explain to the other Harry and Hermione what happened and then—I don't know—we can go back to our normal lives. Beg Ginny and Ron for forgiveness, set up weekly lunches and dinners—just the two of us, and you can be pain-free again."
Hermione bit her lip and looked to the side, back toward the house. "Or..." she said after a while. "...we could stay."
