When Harry and Hermione returned to their room, they poured over the letter Harry had stolen, trying to piece together what had happened between the other Harry and his parents.
"Where do you think they sent the other Harry?" Hermione asked after she finished her second review of the letter.
"I was wondering the same thing. It says they sent him abroad, but who did he stay with? It's not like I have any extended family besides the Dursleys, and I doubt they were involved."
Hermione hummed. "It's also interesting that I lived at the Order Headquarters with Neville, though not surprising that they hid that fact from you. From the sounds of it, Neville didn't try to do the Horcruxes hunting alone, but rather, involved the whole Order." She leaned into Harry. "You should have done that."
Harry rolled his eyes. "It was Dumbledore who insisted I keep it all a secret. He was worried Voldemort would find out. Maybe in this world he was less secretive."
"Or maybe he was just as secretive but after he died, Neville went and told the Order anyway, knowing he wouldn't be able to do the hunt alone. In our world, Snape killed Dumbledore, so we didn't know who to trust but in this world, it's unlikely that an Order member killed Dumbledore, so Neville would have had no reason to doubt the group."
"This is sort of breaking my brain."
"I know. Isn't it fun?" she asked, her eyes bright.
Harry shook his head. "You're a swot."
She picked her hand up to swat his arm, but he moved away just in time, settling back on the bed and looking up at the intricate molding on the ceiling. "I wonder what he's like," Harry said.
"Who? Neville?"
"Yeah."
Hermione went to lay on the bed next to him. "Me too. I want to ask about him, but I get the sense we're closer to him in this world than your parents are, so that would be weird."
Harry turned his head to look at her. "Yeah, we're friends with him. I saw him in several of the photos I brought from the flat."
"Right. The photos. We should go through those. Try to learn as much about this world as we can."
"Yeah," Harry forced out, then looked up at the ceiling and took a few breaths to clear the tightness in his chest.
How would Hermione react to that intimate photo Harry had discovered of the other version of them? Probably very matter-of-factly. It wasn't a big deal. It's not like it was them. But why did the thought of reviewing photos like that with Hermione feel so awkward? It was just Hermione. She understood what was going on here. Now reviewing those photos with Ginny or Ron... that would be awkward.
Hermione was climbing under the covers and when she laid back down, she turned on her side to face Harry. "We talked about taking a nap last night. Can we do that now? Then we can have a late lunch and spend the rest of the afternoon going through the photos."
Harry nodded. He grabbed his wand and pulled the curtains shut, casting the room into darkness. Then he set up a Silencing Charm, so they wouldn't be awoken by the occasional sounds of children downstairs. He put his wand and glasses on the bedside table, settled back in bed, and turned to face Hermione.
"Hey," he whispered.
"Yeah?"
"Are we going to be okay?"
She reached for his hand and gripped it tightly. "Absolutely."
Hermione closed her eyes and a few minutes later, her breathing evened out. Harry reached his free hand out and touched the tip of her nose. When she didn't react, he let out a sigh. How did she fall asleep so quickly? Harry's mind was running a mile a minute with everything that had happened today. From learning of Hermione's injury, to their fight, to finally figuring out what was between the estrangement between this Harry and his parents. But he should try to sleep.
The night before he'd been awake for two hours following Hermione's nightmare. He was knackered, but he couldn't calm his mind enough to fall asleep. He needed some magical assistance, but had never learned Occlumency and didn't want to use a Sleeping Potion, since those could become addictive. Maybe that's how Hermione did it. Maybe she was using a rare Falling-Asleep Spell that hadn't been approved for the public yet.
Harry watched her for a few minutes. Well, at least one of them was getting rest. He looked down at his hand, which she was still holding, and wondered whether he should let go. Would it wake her up? That wouldn't be good. He decided to leave their hands alone and finally closed his eyes. He didn't end up sleeping but just laid there, listening to the sounds of her breathing, until her wand alarm woke her an hour later.
It was late afternoon and Harry and Hermione were next to each other on the bed, lying on their stomachs as they looked through the box of photos. "That's your third girlfriend in a year!" Hermione exclaimed as they flipped to a photo where Harry had his arm draped around Padma Patil's shoulder and would occasionally turn to kiss her cheek.
"I don't think the Beauxbatons witch counted. She was just my date for the Yule Ball," Harry countered.
"Still...we're just at Fourth Year. I don't understand how this Harry is so good with witches."
"Hey! I'm good with witches."
Hermione looked at him sardonically.
"What?"
"You nearly drove yourself into a panic trying to work up the courage to ask someone to the Yule Ball, your relationship with Cho was, frankly, a disaster, and Ginny—you were doing the panicky thing again until she eventually kissed you and put you out of your misery. I'm not sure that counts as being 'good with witches.'"
"Ouch. That was harsh."
Hermione just shrugged.
Harry nudged her side. "I think you're just jealous on the other Hermione's behalf. But she didn't do too badly. She still went to the Yule Ball with Krum."
Hermione scoffed. "I'm not jealous. I'm just stating the facts."
Harry reached for another pile of photos from the box. "Let's keep looking, okay?"
"You just want to see how many more girlfriends you're going to end up with," she teased.
He smiled at her. "Maybe."
Based on the photos, nothing of note happened in their Fifth Year. Harry seemed to have stayed with Padma for most of the year and they didn't see any indication that Umbridge had been in charge. Harry was thrilled to see a photo of the Gryffindor Quidditch team with the Quidditch Cup, which meant he'd been allowed to play out the season.
His heart jumped when he saw Ginny again. She wasn't in many of their photos, so he'd determined that they weren't friends, just Quidditch teammates. That made sense in this world. He'd become friends with her during all his visits to the Burrow but with his parents alive, he would have spent all his breaks in Godric's Hollow.
"Okay, that's the end of the year," Hermione said. "Ready for Sixth Year?"
Harry nodded as he put the photo of the Quidditch team to the side. "You know who's suspiciously absent from all of these photos?"
"Neville. I know. He's been in the background of a few, but it doesn't seem like we were friends with him. And it's weird because all the other Gryffindors are here: Ron, Dean, Seamus. We saw that he was the Triwizard Champion, just like you were, so I guess we can assume Voldemort came back in the same way. Maybe this year Neville was away for some reason."
"Do you think he was training with Dumbledore? Or already working with the Order?"
Hermione shrugged. "It's possible."
As they looked through the photos from Sixth Year, Hermione got a chance to tease Harry again, since he appeared to have returned to dating around. "Okay. We're at Christmas Break and your total count for the year is two witches, bringing your grand total to five. Do you think you'll make it to ten before the other Hermione forces you to settle down?"
Harry rolled his eyes, but Hermione could tell he was enjoying this.
He was enjoying this, but it wasn't because of all the witches the other Harry had dated. Harry just couldn't get enough of seeing this version of himself. One who was confident and comfortable in his own skin, just as his dad had been in the memories Harry had seen of him.
He didn't look as arrogant as James had been, nor was he the center of attention, but the other Harry seemed to be well-liked, played Quidditch, and still had Ron and Hermione as close friends, since they appeared in more of the photos than anyone else.
"Look!" he exclaimed when they flipped to the next photo.
Hermione leaned forward to study the image of several Gryffindors playing in the snow. She watched Dean hit Harry on the side of the head with a snowball two times before asking, "What am I looking at?"
Harry pointed to a couple in the background. Hermione squinted, then blushed. "Oh." It was her and Ron, kissing under a tree.
"So...you dated."
"It appears so," she replied as a weird feeling settled in her chest. She'd assumed in this world, her relationship with Ron had never happened because of the different circumstances—like how Harry and Ginny had never become friends. But no, they'd been together and somehow, she'd ended up with Harry. Why hadn't it worked out? Who had broken up with whom?
Harry, sensing her distress, leaned into her and said gently, "Hey. You okay?"
"Yeah. I'm hungry." She got out of the bed and started rummaging through her trunk for the snacks they'd bought in France.
"You know how you're always trying to get me to open up about what's bothering me?" Harry asked.
Hermione hummed as she grabbed a bag of crisps and opened them.
"That goes both ways."
She gave him a small smile as she leaned against the wall and popped a crisp in her mouth. When she was finished chewing, she said, "It's just weird, you know? Seeing this life where I didn't end up with Ron. I'm already nervous about getting married, since it's a huge decision and all, and I—I don't need a reason to doubt it."
"Yeah. I'm pretty much feeling exactly the same way."
She hummed.
"Can you bring those crisps over here?"
Hermione nodded and returned to the bed. They ate the crisps while they looked through the remaining photos from their Sixth Year. Once the school year was over, the photos stopped. They had to fill in the rest with what they'd learned from Lily and James and the letter. Hermione had gone to live at Order Headquarters while Harry had returned to Hogwarts, clearly not in any mood to take photos. Then around Christmas Break, he'd been sent to live abroad.
The next photo they found was taken in the spring of that school year and since Harry was back, they guessed it was taken after the war had ended. Hermione was lying asleep on a hospital bed while Harry sat on a chair by the bed. He was holding her hand and reading the paper and every so often, would look up at whoever was taking the photo and give them a sad smile.
"That's it. We're together here," Harry said.
"Not necessarily. We're just holding hands. We do that now." Hermione flipped to the next photo. She had bandages wrapped around her waist and Harry and Neville were helping her walk down a hall at St. Mungo's. "There he is."
"Yeah. He looks okay. No major injuries or anything."
Hermione nodded as she grabbed her wand to check the dates between the photos. There was a one-month gap.
"You were in that hospital bed for a month?" Harry asked.
"I guess so."
She flipped to the next photo and let out a small laugh as she said, "Okay, so now, we're together."
"What?" Harry picked up the photo and studied it further. Hermione was sitting up on the bed, still with bandages around her waist, and was holding a few Muggle playing cards. Harry was sitting at the foot of the bed with his own hand of playing cards, smiling at her. Not much was happening in the photo, beside them playing cards.
"How are you so sure we're together here?"
"Look at your left hand."
Harry focused back on the photo and saw the other Harry was resting his hand on Hermione's thigh, which was barely visible since Hermione's lap was mostly covered by a blanket. He was running his fingers along the hem of her shorts and every so often, she would look up at Harry and give him a shy smile.
"I see," he said. "That is a bit intimate for two friends." He looked back at the real Hermione. "You're good at this."
She just shrugged and reached for the next photo. "Oh. Here's Ron." Hermione was sitting up in the same hospital bed and this time, Harry was sitting next to her with his arm draped around her shoulders. Neville and Ron were sitting in chairs on either side of the bed and there were sweets and Exploding Snap cards spread around.
"He seems okay with the other Harry stealing his girlfriend," Harry pointed out.
"Yeah," Hermione replied. The Ron in the photo was smiling good-naturedly and wasn't staring daggers at Hermione and Harry.
"Hmm." Harry turned to Hermione. "How do you think they got together? It's not clear from the photos."
Hermione bit her lip as she considered his question. Harry shifted onto his side and propped his head on his hand as he waited for her response.
"Based on these photos, my guess is that we were close friends all through school, but never romantic. I think I probably stood by and watched with amusement, and perhaps a touch of jealousy, as each new witch entered and exited your life.
"Then the war hit in our Seventh Year and we spent the time apart. I doubt either of us dated anyone during that time, or, at least, not seriously. Then, you came back after the war and found me injured. It may have flipped a switch for you, seeing me close to death, and you realized how much you loved me. You realized that dating different witches was fun and all, but that deep down, you wanted someone you could trust, someone who would be a true partner for you.
"You stayed by my side through my entire recovery and I'm sure I sensed the change in how you were acting toward me. But I would have denied it for weeks, afraid of the idea of dating my best friend. What if it didn't work out? What if I was just one more girlfriend for you? But you'd wear me down, probably make the first move, and then...once we decided to start something, that would be it."
Hermione blushed and looked down at the bedspread. "I should have spoken in the third person there. But—uh— you get it."
"That was very specific," he said quietly as he tried to swallow back the lump in his throat.
Hermione shrugged. "I read a lot so, uh, I've seen how this 'friends to lovers' thing typically plays out."
"Oh. I guess that makes sense." Harry was quiet for a few seconds, looking down at the photo of him, Hermione, Ron, and Neville. "In how many universes do you think we end up together?"
Hermione moved onto her side so she was facing him, mirroring his pose as she propped her head up on her hand. She let out a sigh. "Probably a lot. There are an infinite number of universes out there. So, I bet there are millions where you end up with Ginny. Another million where you end up with me, Padma, Hannah, all the other girls in the photos…" She waved her hand toward the pile of photos on the bed.
"There are countless universes where you die a virgin," she said with a grin.
"Oh no. Our deepest fears from the tent, realized," he joked.
"And maybe some others where you end up with a bloke."
"What?! No."
Hermione laughed. "I don't know. Maybe you're bisexual but have never given it any serious consideration in our world, but if something different were to happen in some other world—some formative experience in your youth —perhaps in the Quidditch locker rooms…"
"Hermione!" Harry kicked her.
"Maybe there are worlds where you end up with Draco Malfoy!" she said with a wicked grin.
"Ew! Take it back!"
"I don't know...they say there's a fine line between love and hate. There would certainly be a lot of passion— eehh!"
Harry had lunged at her from across the bed and was tickling her side. "Take it back."
Hermione laughed as she tried to squirm away from him, but he was a lot stronger than her and was pressing her down into the bed with the entire weight of his body. "I'm just stating a scientific fact," she said through her laughter, "based on probability and—"
"Take it back," he repeated, smiling down at her as he continued to tickle her.
"You're hurting my wound."
He stopped instantly and lifted himself up on his hands. "Shit. Really?"
Hermione took the opportunity while he was distracted to Summon her wand and blast him to the other side of the bed. "No, not really," she grinned as she pulled herself to a sitting position, keeping her wand trained on him.
Harry snorted. "Cheater."
Hermione just smiled wider. "They don't teach you to look out for tricks like that in Auror training?"
He rolled his eyes. "I could Disarm you in five seconds."
Hermione looked down at her wand and shrugged. "I don't doubt that."
She waved her wand to gather the photos that had scattered during their struggle and returned the half-eaten bag of crisps to her open trunk, then went to sit at the top of the bed, leaning her back against the headboard.
She was still wearing a hint of a smile, which prompted Harry to say, "Please stop imagining a world where I end up with Malfoy."
He sat next to her and she leaned into him. "Just one more minute. It's fascinating trying to imagine how that would even come about."
"Why don't we imagine a world where you end up with him?"
She nodded thoughtfully. "Huh. Interesting. How did he get past the Muggleborn thing?"
"Hermione! No more talk of Malfoy! Okay?"
"Fine. You're no fun."
"You have a pretty skewed idea of fun," he grumbled.
She shrugged again and they sat there quietly for a few minutes, each thinking about the photos at their feet, and how different the other Harry and Hermione's lives were from theirs, when they both turned to each other and said at the same time, "Hey."
"Sorry, you go first," Hermione said.
"It's okay. You can go. Witches first, right?"
"No, really. I prefer to go last. What were you going to say?"
Harry looked down at her torso, then back up at her and she knew what he was going to ask before the words were out of his mouth. "Can I see it?"
"No," she said automatically.
"Please?" He was giving her that endearing look she had trouble saying no to.
"Harry…"
"Come on. This is the focal point of the whole argument between the other Harry and my parents. If our roles were reversed, you'd be dying of curiosity."
"Fine," she sighed. Hermione pulled two of the pillows over and laid down on the bed. She grabbed the hem of her shirt but before she pulled it up, said sternly, "Remember our deal?"
"I know. I won't pester you about it and assume that if you aren't complaining about any pain, you're fine. Do you remember your side of the deal?"
"Yes. I won't be a martyr and I'll tell you if the pain gets too bad." Hermione took another breath before raising her shirt to expose her midsection.
"Fuck," Harry swore. He shifted onto his stomach so he could get a closer look at the wound. The center of the scar, which was raised and oval-shaped, was on Hermione's left side, a few inches away from her navel. There were countless, angry red lines emanating from the center and stopping at about six inches in every direction.
Harry leaned closer to try to make out the strange shape of the red lines and saw they were made up of thousands of Runes. "What the fuck?" He'd seen this sort of thing on Dark Artifacts and knew the Runes powered the magic somehow, but he'd never seen it on a person. He shivered slightly.
Harry lifted his hand and ran a finger along one of the lines, which was raised and eerily cold. He pulled his hand away quickly. "Sorry. Is that—? Does that hurt you?"
Hermione shook her head. Harry's eyes, which were lined with tears, held hers for a few moments before he dipped his head again. He ran his fingers along a few more lines, then swore again. "Does it hurt everywhere? Or just at the center?"
"It's mostly the center. It feels like a knife is shoved in my side and won't go away. The pain sort of emanates along the lines, then stops." She reached down and touched a bare spot of skin. "No pain here. But as I move down," she moved her finger along a line that started at her ribs, down toward the center of the wound, "the pain gets worse."
"Does it hurt when others touch you there? I've been hugging you and just now when I was tickling you—"
"No," she gave him a reassuring smile. "I really was joking. It actually feels better when I put pressure on it."
Harry placed his palms on her stomach, so he was almost completely covering the scars, and pressed down. "This feels better?"
Hermione nodded. "You can press even harder."
Harry did so, then looked up at her and asked, "Like that?"
"Yeah," she breathed. She took another deep breath to try to clear the butterflies in her stomach. She wondered if he could feel them under his hands and immediately blushed at the thought. She had her shirt pulled up and Harry had his hands on her and it felt...well...it was safe to say her body had temporarily forgotten about the wound. Hermione looked up at the ceiling, since looking at Harry right now was...too much.
Harry, who was also keen to avoid looking at Hermione, focused on the otter pendant on her necklace as he said, "I can't believe the other Harry has to see this every time he sees her without her clothes on."
Great. He's also thinking about sex, she thought. Why isn't he panicking, too? "Yeah. I'm sure it's hard for her to feel pretty around him."
"That's not what I meant," he said sharply. Hermione looked down and saw him fixing her with a stern look. Her heart started beating even faster. "You're beautiful, even with this scar, and I'm sure he agrees. I was just referring to the constant reminder that she's in pain and that it will never go away."
"Oh, right," Hermione replied softly, still reeling from his comment about her being beautiful, which he'd thrown out there like it was nothing.
"Is it really incurable?" he asked. "Is there any information about this curse in the Department of Mysteries?"
Hermione shook her head and focused back on the ceiling, relieved to have something more pedantic to talk about. "It's called an Everlasting Curse but everything I've read about it at work was theoretical. I've never seen one in real life. In theory, you could unravel the spell, but you know how dangerous that is, especially with Dark Magic."
Harry cringed as he nodded in agreement. He was remembering a recent incident at work where they'd tried to unravel the Dark Magic on a cursed vase they found, which had led to an explosion that would have leveled the entire floor, had Dawlish and Ron not acted quickly to contain it.
"You know, I thought that was the point of this trip," Hermione said, pulling Harry's attention back to the present.
"What?"
"I thought maybe the other Hermione had planned to see all the Wonders of the Magical World in the hope that she'd come across some rare cure for her injury."
Harry perked up. "Is that possible? Are we going to see something on the trip that can cure this?"
"I don't think so. I poured through all her notes and it doesn't look like that was the purpose. It was just a trip. With the primary purpose of reconnecting you with your parents, I think."
"Huh."
"Do you feel bad?" she asked.
"What? For stealing this trip from the other couple?"
"Yes."
Harry nodded thoughtfully. "I feel a lot worse than I did at the beginning of the trip, now that I've seen how cool these Wonders are, but...I don't know. The other Harry gets his parents, he doesn't have a scar on his forehead or people stopping him on the street for autographs. He probably doesn't have nightmares and flashbacks and bouts of crippling grief and—" He paused to sigh. "I feel a little bad, but he'll be fine. He can make up with them in a different way."
"You're probably right."
"It's Hermione I feel bad for," Harry continued, looking down at the red lines peeking out from under his hands. "She planned this whole trip but is missing out on it. She has to deal with the pain from this all day, and she has a nitwit for a fiancé."
Hermione smiled.
Harry grinned back at her. "You could have refuted that last one."
"I could have."
Harry laughed and looked back down at his hands. "Is this weird? That I'm still touching you like this? Do you want me to stop?"
"Oh, um, it's okay. But you can stop. I'm good."
Harry took his hands back and started rubbing them together as Hermione pulled her shirt back down. "Bloody hell, my hands are freezing. Does that make you cold?"
She shook her head. "The cold just seems to go out."
"Huh." Harry grabbed a few pillows and put them down before lying on his side, facing Hermione. "That wound is terrible but, honestly, I'm a little surprised it caused the other Harry to alienate his parents for almost two years. I was expecting something worse."
"I told you it's easy to take your loved ones for granted and assume they're always going to be around. Also, you and I are war-hardened. We know the difficult decisions that have to be made to win, such as walking to your death without telling your friends."
Harry's chest clenched at the memory.
"Sorry," she whispered. "I'm still a little bitter about that one. My point is, the other Harry wouldn't have been like that. He was sent away and the whole time, was probably desperate to be fighting and unaware of how lucky he was to be out of the fray. Then, he came back and his best friend, who he was in love with, was terribly injured. There would be a lot of guilt there and I can see how he'd be determined to find someone to blame, besides himself."
"But why a year later? We know the war ended after Seventh Year but from the letter, the estrangement didn't start until after he graduated from Hogwarts."
"I have a theory about that."
Harry smiled. "Of course you do. What is it?"
"If I had to guess, I'd say Hermione was behind that. I bet your parents told you there was an age limit or something to be in the Order. But that obviously wasn't true, since I was there. And the mission I went on when I got this injury was led by your dad. I bet when you first learned about the injury, I lied and said I got it from some Snatchers, knowing if you knew I'd been on a mission for the Order with your parents, it would have driven a wedge between you three. But obviously, you found out anyway.
"You probably thought their actions—putting a witch who was barely of age in danger—cold and manipulative; similar to how people feel about how Dumbledore treated you. But—well—like I said before, we had to stop Voldemort, no matter the cost."
Harry nodded thoughtfully as he considered her explanation. He couldn't imagine how it would have felt to be so disconnected from the war. "You're really good at piecing things together."
Hermione shrugged. "Like I said I—"
"—read a lot," he finished for her. "Understatement of the century."
Hermione just smiled.
"Okay," Harry said. "You had something you wanted to say. Right?"
"Oh. Yeah." Hermione dropped his gaze and looked down at her hands. She noticed the engagement ring on her finger and started turning it with her thumb.
"Hermione?"
She sighed and looked up at him. "It's about that night at your Engagement Party."
"Oh. We don't have to—I was in a shit mood and—"
"No. I want to apologize. And I want to explain—what I said—" She stopped to take a breath and shift the pillows under her head before continuing.
"I didn't mean to imply that you shouldn't be with Ginny. I just wanted to challenge your decision because you— you were—how to explain? You seemed dejected and it reminded me of how you were with the prophecy and all that and I—I thought if you could, really own that decision, feel like it was yours and no one else's, you'd be more content. Does that—am I making any sense?"
"Um, yeah? I think so," he said, trying hard to keep his voice even.
Hermione took another deep breath. "I also want you to know that I don't believe in soul mates. I truly believe the Harry and Hermione in this time, will be happy together and I think you and Ginny and me and Ron will be happy together, in our world. I think relationships are defined by more than souls, but circumstances and shared experiences and—and all that. I know this is a bit awkward, coming here, being engaged to each other, but, I don't know. I guess I just wanted to tell you that."
Harry was silent as he considered her words. He stood up from the bed and opened the window, mumbling about stale air, as Hermione replayed what she'd said, cringing inwardly, since none of it had made as much sense as it had in her head. Hermione was about to explain further when he returned to the bed and laid back on his side. "Thanks."
"Did that make sense?"
"Yeah. I understand what you're saying and I'm sorry I didn't hear you out at the party, or at least later, when I was in a better mood."
"Okay. Good."
Harry smiled. "I have a question."
"Okay."
"How did you find this world? Out of the millions of universes, why this one?"
"Oh." She looked down at her hands again, caught off guard by the abrupt change in conversation. "That's a really good question. I'm still trying to figure that part out."
"Will you tell me when you find out?"
"Yes. I can do that."
Harry sat up and stretched his arms over his head, then looked down at his watch. "We still have a few hours until they return. Do you want to do more photos or just—I don't know—walk around or something?"
Hermione sat up. "Let's walk but first, I have one more thing to say."
"Okay. Go ahead."
"When we were outside and you were saying we should go home, you said we should tell your parents the truth. Is that—is that how you want to end this? By confessing the truth to them?"
Harry looked out the window and nodded. "Yeah," he said, his mouth suddenly dry. "I think we owe it to them. I'll do it, of course, and I—I have no idea how they'll react but—they deserve the truth. Then they can explain to the other Harry and Hermione what happened, and why they don't remember anything."
Hermione placed a hand on his arm. "I think you're right. And I want to be there with you when you tell them, since it was my idea to bring you here in the first place."
Harry put a hand on hers. "Fair warning, I'm going to be a mess when it's time to say goodbye."
As he stared into her eyes, a few tears collected on his lower lashes. Hermione wiped them with the back of her finger, then brushed his hair away from his face, exposing his scar-free forehead. "Oh, Harry," she whispered. "I wish this was your life. It's the one you deserve."
She realized she was still stroking his hair and pulled her hand away, feeling a slight blush creep up her neck. "But like I said last night," she continued, "there are things in your other life that are really good that you don't have here. Teddy, Ginny, a lifetime supply of chocolate frogs."
"They never delivered on those," he cut in. "It was just an empty promise."
"Oh. Bummer. I take it all back then. There's nothing good in your life."
Harry let out a breath of a laugh. "Thank you, Hermione."
She smiled.
They watched each other for a long time, so long that Hermione began wondering if these lingering stares had always been there, or were a new thing associated with this world. Maybe their bodies missed being close to each other. What an intriguing thought. She'd have to add this to her notes back in her world.
She cleared her throat and got up from the bed. "Let's go for that walk. We've been in here all day."
Harry went to stand next to her and draped his arm around her shoulders before opening the door and guiding her into the hall. "Yeah, but it's been good for us. Don't you think?"
They stopped in the hall as he waited for her to respond and again, she was caught staring into Harry's green eyes for longer than was necessary. "Yeah," she replied. It had been good, getting all that out, but something had shifted between them. She had no idea if it was a good or bad thing. It was too early to tell.
Hermione shook her head and turned toward the stairs, moving out from under his arm as casually as possible. "Okay," she said in a too-high voice. "Let's go."
