October 2001
Harry was standing outside the gates of Hogwarts, waiting to be let in. He pulled his shoulders up and buried his face further into the woolen scarf he was wearing. Damn, it was cold up here. He always forgot. It was probably why one of the first spells the students were taught, after Lumos, was the Warming Charm.
Harry was considering using the charm now. He was weighing the benefits of the heat the spell would provide with the discomfort of removing his hands from his warm pockets when a familiar, bulky figure appeared on the path. He smiled into the scarf.
"'Arry!" Hagrid called when he was only a few feet away.
The bitter wind muffled the sound of his booming voice considerably, so Harry made sure to shout when he replied with, "Hey, Hagrid! Thanks for coming to let me in."
"'Course," he said as he opened the heavy gates. "Anytime."
Harry rushed through the gates, moving quickly to lessen the amount of time spent outdoors. He braced himself for a bone-crushing hug but it didn't come this time. Hagrid simply gave him a firm pat on the shoulder that made Harry's knees buckle.
Harry guessed he'd been by so often in the past month, while Hermione had been working on a research project with Professor Vector, that seeing him was no longer a novelty. Harry watched Hagrid shut the gates, then walked with him along the path, jogging to keep up with Hagrid's long strides—which Harry didn't mind, as it was keeping him warm.
"Are you having a good weekend?" Harry asked.
"'Can' complain. You?"
"My weekends are very similar to my weekdays. But it's been good."
Hagrid snorted, then said gruffly, "I don't care what the papers say about yeh. Yeh deserve this. Don't listen to tha' rubbish."
"Thanks, Hagrid. I don't even read the papers anymore." Which was true. After the mindless dribble they'd printed while speculating over the reason behind Harry, Ginny, Ron, and Hermione calling off their weddings, he'd given up on the news altogether. The reporters had accurately guessed the weddings were called off because Harry and Hermione had fallen for each other, but the printed version of the story was much more sordid than the real one, and had painted Hermione in a terrible light.
Harry had been so angry, he'd nearly gone out to track down the reporter and curse them. Then, he'd had an idea to buy the paper and fire everyone who worked there. But even if he combined the small fortune Sirius had left him with the money in his family's vault, he didn't have enough money to buy the Daily Prophet (he'd checked).
Hermione seemed unaffected by the nasty things the papers were saying about her. She just told Harry to cut off his subscription, just as she had done, and to refuse to comment, which he was already doing.
But even though Harry wasn't reading the news, he knew everyone else was, and whatever was being printed was getting mixed responses from the public. Some people glowered at him angrily, some eyed him warily, as if worried he would explode, some people gave him comforting pats on the back, and then there was his least favorite: the witches who threw themselves at him.
This was why Harry was staying away from the Wizarding World as much as possible, at least until he decided what to do next. But Hogwarts was the exception. He could be himself here. The Professors supported him, there were no reporters or cameras, and the students didn't care about him. They had their own dramas to distract them.
"Yer not goin' ter the library?" Hagrid asked, pulling Harry out of his thoughts. They'd reached the fork in the path and Harry had started walking toward the left automatically, on his way to the greenhouses.
"Oh, yeah. I will. But I wanted to stop by and talk to Neville. He'd be in the greenhouses, right?"
"Should be."
"Brilliant. I'll see you later, Hagrid. Thanks again for letting me in. Are you going to the Ball?"
Hagrid narrowed his dark eyes at Harry. "Yer goin' to a school ball?"
Harry shrugged. "I thought I'd help with—er—chaperoning. Since, um, I have the time."
"Right." Hagrid clapped his shoulder as he gave Harry a knowing smile. "I'll see you and Hermione at the Ball tonight." He winked before turning back toward his hut.
Harry shook his head as he made his way toward the greenhouses. All the Professors thought he and Hermione were involved. They'd obviously taken whatever was being written about them in the papers, coupled with the fact that Harry had been visiting her almost daily during the past month while she'd been staying at Hogwarts, and come to the conclusion that there was something going on between them. Unfortunately, they were wrong.
Harry was still desperately in love with Hermione and Hermione still said she needed time. That's all that was going on between them. Nothing close to the steamy love affair the papers were claiming (or, what he assumed was in the papers, based on the looks everyone gave them).
Harry had reached the greenhouses and went straight for the one in the back that was used almost exclusively for advanced study. Once inside, he was immediately engulfed in warmth and stopped to take in a deep breath. He removed his scarf and coat and tossed them on a nearby table, then made his way to the back of the greenhouse where Neville was sitting, lost in a large text.
Harry spotted a familiar plant in a pot in front of him and nearly burst into laughter. "The Waltzing Willow!" he exclaimed.
Neville jumped, then smiled as he pushed the book he was reading to the side. "Hey, Harry. I didn't know you were coming today."
"Yeah. I'm going to the Halloween Ball tonight."
"With Hermione?"
"No, with Trelawny," Harry said flippantly.
Neville just shrugged. He had no idea what was going on with Harry and Hermione. It was clear they were in love, but they seemed to be fighting it for some reason. Probably for Ron's benefit. The few times Neville had hung out with all of them since they'd called off their weddings, the dynamic between the three had been very different. It seemed like Ron knew something was going on with his two best friends. They also stared at Neville a lot. An uncomfortable amount, actually.
Luna had several theories about it but none of it added up to Neville. In the end, he figured it wasn't his business and he was happy for them. He'd always thought Hermione and Harry got on well and had been surprised when she'd ended up dating Ron at the end of the war. This made more sense. He just hoped they could get over whatever barriers were in their way sooner rather than later. Life was too short. They'd all learned that the hard way.
"What were you saying about the Willow?" Neville asked, gesturing toward the plant Harry seemed fixated on. The tree sprout was waving its arms angrily. Neville had been trying, in vain, to find a way to calm the poor thing.
"What is this?" Harry asked, ignoring Neville's question.
"It's related to the Whomping Willow," Neville explained. "As you can see, it seems to be angry and I've been trying to figure out how to calm it, but haven't been able to come up with anything. It's a very rare breed that seems to have escaped mention in all the texts."
Harry nodded as he pulled his wand out of his robes. "Do you mind if I try something?"
"Go ahead."
Harry muttered something under his breath and a slow, classical tune came out the end of his wand. Neville was about to tell Harry all the reasons serenading the plant wouldn't work when the sprout started to sway in time with the music. Harry's face broke into a grin. "Waltzing Willow."
"How did you—? Wha—?"
Harry just continued to grin.
"How did you know to do that?" Neville demanded. "I've been trying to calm this sprout all morning."
Harry simply shrugged. "Just a hunch."
Neville waved for Harry to drop the spell and watched the sprout get agitated again, whipping his arms around wildly. Neville tried a different song, this time a pop song with more of a beat, and he laughed as the small tree thumped in time with the music.
"You're brilliant, Harry!" Neville exclaimed.
"Thanks. Maybe I should be a Herbologist."
"We could use more Herbologists in Britain."
Harry waved him away, still smiling as he watched the plant. "I don't have the patience for it."
"No," Neville agreed. "I don't think you do."
When Neville looked back at Harry, he was no longer smiling. He was biting his lip and looking nervous, which wasn't a typical look for Harry. "What's wrong?" Neville asked.
"Nothing's wrong."
"Okay," Neville replied, disbelievingly. "Are you worried about Hermione? Because she's doing fine."
Harry perked up at that. "Yeah? She's doing better?"
Neville smirked. "I mean, she still hates the uncertainty that comes with upending your life and trying to start over from scratch… but she's okay."
A tender smile played across Harry's lips. Hermione had not taken to her joblessness well. While Harry was content to just sit around and wait for inspiration about what to do next to strike, Hermione was determined to go looking for it. She'd been working odd jobs from volunteering at St. Mungo's, brewing Potions and donating them to those in need, volunteering her time at several bookshops and libraries across London, and most recently, she'd been working with Professor Vector on some type of research project.
That's why Harry had been coming to Hogwarts over the past month. To visit her. But today was special. He wasn't inviting himself over because he was bored and wanted to see her, as was usually the case. She had invited him.
"She's not good with chaos," Harry said when he saw Neville watching him. "Danger, she has no problem with. But going up against chaos, especially without a plan, she can't handle that. But this is good for her."
Neville felt like he was intruding on an intimate moment as he watched Harry's expression soften while talking about Hermione. He moved his gaze to the sprout, who was still dancing.
"I, uh, wanted to ask you something," Harry said.
Neville looked back at Harry and saw him looking nervous again. "Anything. What do you need?"
"I was just wondering if you wanted to go to the pub with me and Ron."
"Oh. Sure."
Harry rubbed the back of his neck. "I was thinking it would be, like, more than just the one time. Like once a week. Just, er, us blokes."
Neville nodded. "Yeah. Sure, Harry." He could tell this was important to him but had no idea why. He wondered if it was related to the odd looks Harry had been giving him over the past few months. "Are you okay?"
Harry nodded. "Yeah. Good. Thanks."
They watched the plant for a few more moments. Harry was fidgety and Neville guessed he wanted to go find Hermione, but was trying not to be rude.
"You can go," Neville said, dragging the book he'd abandoned earlier back in front of him. "Thanks for the breakthrough with this guy. I'm going to see if I can find anything about the effects of music on plants."
"Yeah, okay," Harry said, pulling himself to his feet. "Do Wednesdays work for you? For the pub?"
"Every day works for me," Neville said matter-of-factly, without a hint of shame. "The plants don't change much in one night."
Harry forced out a laugh. "Okay, then. We'll meet at my place at 7:30?"
"Sounds good."
Harry nodded and made his way back to the door. He picked up his coat and scarf and once he had them back on, called to Neville, "Are you happy?"
"What?"
"Happy. Like, with your life and—and all this." He motioned around the greenhouse. "You lost a lot in the war, but you're continuing on. Doing what you love. Is it, er, working?"
Neville had no idea what to say, so just went with the first answer that popped into his head. "Yeah. I think so. Are you happy?"
Harry dropped that mask he wore for most people and suddenly looked tired and sad. Neville's chest tightened at the sight of his strong, confident friend looking so uncharacteristically lost. "Yeah," Harry said roughly. "I'm happy for parts of every day."
Neville had to blink back tears. He knew what it was like to feel down, but to force himself to power through anyway, focusing on the good things in his life instead of the painful ones. "Is this what the pub is going to be like?" Neville asked. "Deep thoughts with Harry Potter?"
"Maybe," Harry smirked. "Still want to come?"
"Yeah. I'll see you Wednesday."
Harry nodded and finally opened the door, letting a blast of cold air into the greenhouse. "See you Wednesday, Neville."
Harry nearly ran back to the castle. If anyone had asked him about it, he would have said it was so he could escape the cold but in reality, he was desperate to see Hermione. It had been a week since he'd last seen her, which was the longest they'd been apart since returning from the other world.
After Harry had moved to a new house across town, less than a mile from Hermione's flat (which hadn't factored into his decision, of course), they'd fallen into the habit of eating breakfast together every morning. Hermione stopped by his place before running off to whatever job she'd signed up for that day.
They cooked together, which Harry didn't mind. Breakfast food was relatively easy to prepare and honestly, he'd harvest bubotuber pus if it meant he could see Hermione every day. They'd swap plans for the day, check-in with each other, and talk about the trip, something they tried to avoid when they were around Ron.
Ron knew about the breakfasts but didn't seem to mind. Or, if he did, he was hiding it really well. Hermione had claimed breakfast was the least romantic meal two friends could share. Harry disagreed, since breakfast typically followed a night of shagging, but had kept the thought to himself.
Then, a month ago, when Hermione started the project with Professor Vector, she'd started spending several nights at Hogwarts. On those days, Harry usually tried to stop by for dinner if he didn't have other plans. This week had been unlucky. Hermione and Professor Vector had been out of town the first three days of the week, going to visit some Museum in Prague. Thursday, Harry had Teddy and Friday, he'd been at a Quidditch match with Ron.
Harry stopped running when he reached the castle, but still moved quickly through the halls as he made his way to the first floor. The castle was emptier than usual and he guessed most of the students were huddled around the fireplaces in their Common Rooms on this windy Saturday.
He found Hermione at the back of the Library at her usual table, the same table she'd always used during their school days. Her curly hair was pulled up into a messy bun and she was wearing a thick jumper and jeans. She was bent over a pile of parchment and scribbling furiously. Every few seconds, she'd stop to cast a spell that made a series of numbers appear in the air, count under her breath, then start scribbling again.
"A week is too long," Harry announced, leaning back against the bookshelf.
Her lips curled up, but she kept her eyes on the parchment. "It wasn't a whole week. Just five days. We had dinner on Sunday."
Harry crossed the room and removed his scarf and coat before lowering himself into the chair in front of her. "I had to eat breakfast alone for five days."
She finished writing out the line she was working on and looked up at him. "How did you survive?"
"It was hard, but I survived a Killing Curse. Twice."
Her smile brightened. "Yeah. I read that somewhere."
Harry reached out and took her hand. "How are you?"
"Busy."
"Yeah. I see that. You have ink on her neck." He reached out with his other hand and grazed his finger along a spot of skin under her jaw.
She rubbed at the spot he'd indicated, which just made the smudge of ink larger. "Better?"
"Not at all."
She just shrugged. "I'll get it later."
Harry could tell something was off with her. Her eyes were distant and forlorn. He squeezed her hand. "What's wrong?"
She frowned, then focused back on him. "It's this project. I love it—I really do—but it's coming to an end next week. Then, I'm going to be back to searching around for something to do."
"Can you do another research project?" Harry suggested. "Maybe with one of the other professors?"
"I already asked. They won't have anything new until January. And even if there were another one, I couldn't take it. I need a real job that pays money! I keep thinking that if I try my hand at everything out there, I'll find something I really like but so far, it's all just… fine. And I'm thinking maybe that's all it ever will be. Maybe I'm just destined to have a perfectly adequate life that's not bad, but also not particularly great. Just… fine."
"That escalated quickly," Harry murmured.
He felt awful for her, but couldn't think of anything better to say. He knew one of the reasons she was having trouble finding work was because she'd blackmailed Kingsley to allow them to keep their memories of the trip, which had cut off her chances of pursuing any jobs at the Ministry.
Just last week, one of the envelopes she'd sent herself that first night they'd arrived back had appeared at her flat, instructing her to send the attached letter to the Daily Prophet if she didn't have any memory of her trip to another world with Harry. He had been surprised by the lengths she'd gone to, to protect their memories. Then again, he wasn't surprised at all. She was incredible.
Harry smiled, but dropped it when he saw Hermione glaring at him, probably sore about his flippant comment.
"I'm sorry. I get it," he said hastily. "But—I think you're trying to move too fast. Just take some time. You never really took—"
"I did!" she cut in. "I did absolutely nothing for those first two weeks and it was awful. I'm not like you. I can't be content to just sit around doing nothing."
"Ouch."
"Sorry. And besides, I need money."
She dropped her face into her free hand and started breathing deeply. Harry opened the hand he was holding and began running his fingers along her palm.
"You know I'll—"
"Don't offer me money," she snapped.
Harry sighed. This part of her predicament was confusing to him. He knew Hermione's parents were well-off and had given her a small pile of money once she came of age. He also knew Hermione to be a very responsible person who didn't overspend or live beyond her means. So why didn't she have enough money to sustain herself for a few months without a job? Every time he broached the subject, however, she bit his head off. So he dropped it.
"You're going to be okay," he said gently.
She nodded, then dropped her hand from her face. "I think the point of that whole rant was: five days is too long."
Harry's expression broke into a grin. Hermione immediately felt calmer. "You're clearly a mess without me," he whispered.
"Clearly."
"How was Prague?"
"Good. How were Teddy and Ron?"
"Good."
"Good," she smiled.
"And I, er, talked to Neville. We're going to start meeting at the pub, him, me, and Ron. I want to be better friends with him and I think he gets lonely here with just the Professors for company."
"That'll be great."
Hermione looked down at their hands. Harry was pressing his fingertips against hers, then dragging them down to her palm. It felt divine. Her mind drifted back to what Lily had told her in Pacifica.
"If those four pillars: improving her mind, making the world a better place, trying to get enjoyment out of life, and loving Harry—openly, honestly, and completely, were her driving forces and they felt right to her, why fight it?"
Maybe Hermione was overthinking it. Maybe she already had the answer. Maybe the other Hermione had already done the work for her and all she had to do now was let her fear go and lean into it. Lean into him.
"You're beautiful," he whispered, drawing her attention back to him. His green eyes were boring into her and her breath hitched slightly at the sight of him. He was beautiful, too. And he loved her. It was clear by the way he was watching her. Months later, and his feelings hadn't changed.
"I missed you," she replied.
He smiled and took her hand in both of his, then picked it up and placed a soft kiss on her knuckles. "You don't have to have everything figured out, Hermione. Look at my parents. They were twenty years older than us and still hadn't figured out their jobs."
Hermione nodded and they shared a sad smile, like they always did at the mention of James and Lily. "The other Harry and Hermione seemed to have things well in hand," she pointed out.
Harry scoffed. "I try to think about them as little as possible. I'd give anything to be able to open a Quidditch shop and teach people how to fly, but you know what that would turn into."
"The Harry Potter show. I know."
"Exactly."
"There'd probably be a large uptick in the number of young, beautiful witches wanting help with their flying techniques," she teased.
He snorted, then fixed her with an intense stare. "They'd be wasting their time."
She nodded and tried to pull her hand out of his, but he held it tight. "You know that, right?"
"Yes. I know."
"I don't think you do. I think if you really knew, we'd be together."
She dropped her eyes to the formulas she'd been working on when he'd arrived. He was right. There was still a niggling doubt in the back of her mind, telling her that Harry's feelings for her would fade. But he hadn't given her any indication that would happen. Ever since they'd returned, his determination to be with her had been unwavering. So why couldn't she trust him?
As if in answer to her unspoken question, Harry said gently, "I took you for granted throughout our time at Hogwarts, then pushed you away for almost a year. I know I'm not going to be able to fix that in just three months. But I can wait. Just tell me when you're ready."
He gave her her hand back and she raised her eyes to look at him again. "Thank you," she whispered.
He just smiled.
"I would be lost without you, Harry Potter."
"You seem pretty lost with me," he quipped.
She tried to kick him under the table, but he dodged the attack.
"Why didn't we have Halloween Balls?" Harry asked as he moved Hermione around the dance floor, being sure to keep to the side, out of the way of the students.
Hermione looked stunning in a dark purple dress with a lace neckline and sleeves and an open back. She had her hair up in a neater bun than the one she'd been wearing in the Library, but several curls had escaped. She was also wearing a touch of make-up, which accentuated her large eyes. Harry could not stop looking at her and kept adjusting their position so she was always in his line of sight.
Harry had dressed simply, wearing a pair of black slacks, a light grey shirt, and crisp, black robes. The lack of color in his clothes seemed to make the emerald of his eyes pop and Hermione was having trouble focusing. She kept getting lost in his gaze.
"Hermione?"
"Hmm?"
"I was wondering why we didn't have Halloween Balls. Do you know?"
"Oh—uh—yeah. I do." She blushed and averted her eyes, looking up at the floating jack-o-lanterns above their heads that were being kept company by a swarm of bats. The walls were lined with dancing skeletons and the band was made up of vampires. "McGonagall told me she started it that first year after the war," she explained. "By Halloween, everyone was in dire need of a morale boost. And then, it stuck."
"Huh. Well, since you brought up McGonagall, I was going to tell you that I was talking to her in the Entrance Hall earlier, while I was waiting for you, and she said they had plenty of chaperons for this. She didn't need our help at all."
"Oh." Hermione averted her gaze again. "That's interesting."
"Yeah. Very interesting," Harry replied, a smirk playing on his lips.
Hermione rolled her eyes.
"It seems like you just wanted an excuse to dance with me," he pressed.
She shrugged. "I like dancing with you. That's not a secret."
He beamed at her.
"Also," she said more seriously, "I thought it would be good for you to have a bit of a distraction. I know Halloween is hard and this year, well, I was worried it would be especially difficult for you."
Harry moved his hand, which was currently on her side, around to her back. He spread his palm across her bare skin and pulled her closer. "Is that really why?" he whispered in her ear.
She nodded.
"Damn, you're incredible," he breathed. The feeling of his warm breath on her cheek sent a delicious chill down her spine. She smiled back at him.
Harry's heart fluttered. He had a beautiful witch in his arms, who seemed just as wrapped up in his presence as he was in hers. He'd already had to remind himself multiple times tonight that they were in a room surrounded by people, since it felt like it was just them. He could not imagine a better way to spend Halloween. It was certainly better than how he usually spent them.
Ever since he'd learned from Sirius that this was the day Voldemort had killed his parents, he'd find a private spot, go through the photo album he had of them, and think about all he'd missed. It may not have been that hard tonight, since he pretty much did that daily now, but it was kind of Hermione to think of him. It was just further proof that she loved him, even though she was hesitant to admit it.
"Halloween's not so bad," he said, reaching out to push a stray curl behind her ear. He traced a finger along her jaw before pulling his hand back. "It was on Halloween that I battled a troll, which led to me befriending the best person I've ever known."
She leaned forward and placed a soft kiss on his lips, then blushed and dipped her head against his shoulder. "Sorry."
"You never have to apologize for kissing me. I think we should do it again."
She smiled into his robes as she linked her hands behind his neck. "Maybe later," she said noncommittally.
Harry wanted to nail down a more precise time, since later could mean later tonight, or five years from now, but he let it go. He didn't want to pressure her. When she returned to a proper dancing stance, putting at least a foot between them, he started leading them again.
Hermione said she didn't think she'd ever be able to dance without him again without thinking of the trip, which was bookended by two dances. That festival in France, when she'd had too much to drink, and their last night in Norway. "Those two dances could not have been more dissimilar," she declared.
"I know," he agreed, "but I loved them both."
"Me too."
Harry felt that familiar pang in his chest as he thought of his parents. What were they doing now? Had they made up with the other Harry? Did they think of him? "They feel so far away," he said, his voice shaky.
"Yeah," Hermione replied. "They are. But also…not. I can draw them up in an instant. Picture their faces, imagine exactly what they'd say, hear their laughs. So in a way, they're close."
A tear fell out of the corner of Harry's eye and Hermione swiftly wiped it away. From there, they kept the conversation light, coming to an unspoken agreement that they'd had enough heavy conversations for one day. They laughed as they danced to the next two songs, then went to find Hagrid and talked to him for a while about a new breed of flying horses he was caring for with the help of his Fifth Year classes.
They watched Flitwick breakup two fights and saw McGonagall and Pomfrey comfort three crying witches. "Are you sure we shouldn't try to help?" Hermione asked when a fourth witch burst into tears a few feet away from them.
"McGonagall said she didn't need us as chaperons and insisted we enjoy ourselves," Harry countered.
As if on cue, McGonagall appeared and started patting the small blonde witch on the back. "There, there, dear." She spotted Harry and Hermione and gave them an exasperated look followed by a wink over the witch's shoulder. Hermione could tell she didn't mind her role as the voice of reason amidst this sea of hormones and was content to leave McGonagall to it. She pulled Harry back to the dance floor, determined to enjoy herself tonight.
The Ball ended just before curfew, at 10:00 pm, but neither Harry nor Hermione were ready to say goodbye. She led him back to her quarters, where the Alchemy Professor lived during the years the class was taught. They spread out on the sofa in front of the fire and played Wizarding Chess. They seemed to be in a competition to determine who was more awful at the game. The talking pieces were growing more and more agitated with each round, which just made the whole thing funnier for the two of them.
They gave up after six rounds, calling it a draw. Hermione made a batch of hot chocolate in her small kitchenette and they sipped on the warm drink as they watched the fire, talking about nothing in that pleasant way only two people who knew everything about each could. When the clock in the office next to Hermione's room chimed midnight, Harry rose to his feet and started pulling on the robes he'd removed earlier. "I guess I should go."
"Right at midnight? Are you Cinderella?"
"We had similar upbringings. But my fairy godmother came in the form of a half-giant."
Hermione let out a laugh. "Okay, that was really funny. Also pretty dark."
Harry just smiled. Hermione stood and walked with him through the adjoining office to the hall. "I feel like I should walk you out," she said once they'd reached the dark hall.
Harry gave her a dismissive wave. "Then you'd have to walk back alone. I'm okay. I'm a fully qualified Auror."
"That sounds a lot better than 'former Auror.'"
"Yeah. And it'll be true for another six months. But once I miss the annual requalification trials, I'll have to refer to myself as a former Auror."
Hermione bit her lip then said carefully, "I hope you don't need any of that Auror training tomorrow."
Harry let out a long breath. They'd managed to avoid talking about this all day, but he knew it was at the top of both of their minds. They were going to the Burrow tomorrow. It would be the first time either of them would be seeing the other Weasleys since their breakups, besides George, who had come over to Harry's for dinner a few times. Harry didn't know who he was more nervous about seeing, Ginny or her parents.
Hermione looked nervous too and was chewing on her lip, deep in thought. He nudged her with his elbow. "We're going to be fine."
"You have no idea how it's going to go," she countered.
"True," he admitted, "but I'm pretty sure we're not going to die. So…I'd say we've been through worse."
She gave him a small smile. "Yeah."
Harry could see the apprehension in her eyes and knew she wasn't really concerned for her safety. She was worried about him. She thought he was going to abandon her in favor of the Weasleys. Push her to the side in order to salvage a relationship with the only family he'd ever known. But she was wrong and he was determined to show her that.
He pulled her into a half-hug and kissed her cheek. "Good night, Hermione."
She leaned into him, burying her face in the crook of his neck as she tried to draw out as much comfort from the gesture as she could. When she pulled away, there was a hint of longing in her eyes. "Good night, Harry."
November 2001
Hermione was at Harry's house when Ron arrived, which was annoying, but not surprising. And by the looks of it, she'd been there for a while. They were both sitting on the floor, huddled over a mess of parchment spread out across the coffee table. There were empty mugs and half-eaten bags of crisps around them and Hermione had pulled her hair up into a bun, which she always did when she was getting deep into her work and wanted the curls out of her face.
They hadn't noticed Ron in the doorway, which was why they were probably sitting so close to each other. Hermione was saying something in a low tone Ron couldn't hear. Harry turned to smile at her and the look in his eye caused Ron's stomach to lurch. He was regarding Hermione with a look of raw adoration.
His eyes dropped to her shoulder, where her cardigan had fallen down, revealing the strap of her tank top. Ron half-expected Harry to lean forward and kiss the bare skin of her shoulder but instead, he pulled her cardigan back in place and gave her a small smile, which seemed more intimate for some reason.
Ron cleared his throat and walked into the room. "What are you working on?"
Harry shifted away from Hermione, who busied herself with the papers in front of her. "Wards," she answered, grabbing a piece of parchment off the top of her stack and turning to Ron.
"Grimmauld Place was protected by layer upon layer of wards, since it was an ancient house inhabited by generations of wizards. We're looking into setting up something similar here. It won't be as strong to start, as that can only be achieved over time, but I believe I found the type of wards they used. They grow in strength as the Wizarding family in the house grows."
She blushed slightly and turned back to the table. Harry was studying the papers in front of him, pointedly avoiding Ron's gaze. Ron was pretty sure they were all thinking the same thing. Was the "Wizarding family" that was meant to grow in this house going to be Harry and Hermione's family?
Ron hadn't missed how eager Harry had been for Hermione to see the house before he bought it or how he'd purchased a house much bigger than what he needed, so it would be large enough for his family one day. Did Harry and Hermione talk about this sort of thing when Ron wasn't around? He had barely been able to get Hermione to look for flats for them to move into together after their wedding, but she had no problem with this.
Fuck, everything hurt.
Hermione, in an effort to diffuse the tension that had settled into the room, pulled Ron's attention to the calculations she'd been working on. After just three minutes, Ron was bored. A battle began to play out in his head between what Ron referred to as his mature adult self and his teenage prick self. The adult was looking at the page and noticing how a lot of that handwriting was Harry's. Which meant he hadn't just tuned out while Hermione did her thing, like Ron usually did, but participated.
Wasn't this proof he was better for her than Ron? Plus, Ron hated this stuff. He should be relieved they hadn't called him over. He'd have been asleep on the couch in less than an hour. But the prick was angry. They'd been meeting without him, again. On today, of all days. And they were setting up wards on their house that would one day protect their future children. This was fucked up.
And yes, he knew by now that he and Hermione hadn't been a great couple. With distance from the relationship and time to watch the good couples in his life, his mum and dad, Bill and Fleur, and George and Angelina, he'd realized that they all had something he and Hermione had never had: mutual respect and understanding. So he was okay with the breakup. What he wasn't okay with was her choosing Harry fucking Potter, his best mate, as the person to move on with.
Then again, she hadn't chosen him. Even though they'd broken off their bloody engagements to be with each other, they weren't. At least, not yet.
Last week, while Ron and Harry were at the pub, Ron had asked Harry why he and Hermione weren't together, ignoring their unspoken rule to never talk about Hermione. Ron just had to know when this was going to happen, so he could prepare himself.
"She's not ready," Harry said simply.
"Why not?"
"She doesn't trust that I actually like her."
Ron was snorted. This was one of those moments when Hermione was dense. They were rare, but it happened. It was clear Harry liked her. Loved her. Was obsessed with her. Just look at the way he stared at her. But Hermione was insecure and this probably had to do with that. Ron had never managed to make her see how wonderful she was. Maybe Harry could do that. But if he did manage it, it would just give Ron something else to have mixed feelings about.
"So you're just … waiting for her to figure out you actually like her?" Ron had asked.
"Yeah."
"How long are you going to wait?"
"As long as it takes," he'd replied. His green eyes were determined and at that moment, he looked like the man who had killed Voldemort. Ron knew he really meant it and would probably wait years, if he had to. Again, something else Ron wouldn't do and just one more reason Harry was better for Hermione.
"We can talk about wards later," Hermione said, pulling Ron back to the present. She began stacking the papers on the table into neat piles, then stood up and turned to face Ron. "Let's focus on the mission. Operation Burrow."
Ron smiled at the familiar terminology. "What are the specs?"
"No spells are to be cast unless for defensive purposes and even then, nothing painful," Hermione said seriously. "We're to go in, make peace, and try our best to come out unharmed."
"It's not going to be that bad," Ron said.
Harry and Hermione looked unconvinced. They didn't want to go to the Burrow today, he knew that, but Ron was sick of being in the middle of Harry and Hermione and his family. He wanted them to all get along again. He wanted to be able to bring his friends to the Burrow on Sundays. But he knew it was never going to get better if Harry and Hermione continued to avoid all contact with his family. It was probably going to suck, but they had to power through it, just like the three of them had done.
The only person they really had to be concerned about was Ginny. She had not forgiven Harry and Hermione. Not even close. She had ridiculed Ron a few times for choosing to forgive his friends, claiming he was putting himself through unnecessary pain. "For what? So Harry and Hermione can be happy? They don't deserve that."
It was so much more complicated than that, but Ginny hadn't been in a place to listen to Ron try to explain it. The way he saw it, he'd chosen the easier route. Yes, he had to deal with pangs of jealousy and constant battles in his head between mature Ron and prick Ron, but at least he got to keep his friends, the two best people he'd ever met. They loved him and valued him, that much was clear, and he didn't have to carry around that bitterness Ginny had on her shoulders. It looked heavy.
"Who hates us?" Harry asked Ron.
"Me," Ron replied automatically.
"Yes, we know that, Ronald," Hermione said matter-of-factly, clearly in no mood for jokes. "Who else?"
"Mum and Ginny are the only ones you've got to look out for. Percy is upset you quit your jobs at the Ministry, but doesn't seem to have any strong opinions on the breakups. Dad is on your side, I think, but won't speak out against Mum, so he'll be pretty useless to you. You know you've got George and Angelina in your camp, and then Bill and Fleur will go on the side of reason, which is yours."
"Are you sure Ginny—?" Harry began to ask.
"Yes," Ron cut in. "I talked to her six times. She said she'll be fine. Now come on." He turned toward the hall. "The more you think about it the worse you're going to build it up in your head."
"Are you sure we shouldn't wait—?" Hermione started to say.
"I'm sure! Come on. We've been up against so much worse than this. And if things go south, just stand behind me —" Ron winked, "—I'll protect you."
They made it most of the way through dinner before things took a turn, which was better than Harry had been expecting. They were eating outside, like usual, since they'd surpassed the capacity of the dining table at the Burrow over a year ago, after all the Weasley children had graduated and started bringing their partners to Sunday dinner. The table was long and protected by a floating tarp, to keep the cold drizzle off of them, and was surrounded several Warming Charms.
Harry and Hermione had agreed ahead of time that it would be better if they didn't sit next to each other. So when Mr. and Mrs. Weasley had taken their usual spots at the head of the long table, they'd gravitated toward Mr. Weasley, each taking the seats on either side of him, so they were facing each other. Ron had taken the chair on Hermione's other side and Harry was disappointed when Percy sat next to him. It could have been worse, though. Ginny, who seemed determined to ignore him, had taken a seat at the other end of the table next to her mother.
The conversations on their side of the table had been polite. Harry listened to updates from Percy and Mr. Weasley about their jobs. Then, he listened to Ron explain the main differences between his work in the Auror Department and the Magical Law Enforcement team and how much he was enjoying the reduced stress of his new role.
They talked about Quidditch and the recent events from the Prophet, which were news to Harry. Hermione stayed quiet and focused on her food. Mr. Weasley, in that polite, good-natured manner of his, tried to draw her into the conversation by asking how her job search was going. She'd nodded and given him a few sentences about her recent project with Professor Vector before focusing back on her food.
Mrs. Weasley served pudding, an apple crumble with custard, and an easy silence came over the table as everyone ate. That's when things began to go wrong. "Ron," Mrs. Weasley said from the other end of the table. Her tone alone made Harry pause. He placed his fork on his plate and braced himself for whatever she was about to say.
"George was just telling me you have a date this week."
Harry watched Hermione stiffen in her seat. Harry and Hermione already knew this. A few days ago, Ron had told Harry that he'd asked out one of the witches he'd met on the MLE team and Harry had relayed the news to Hermione earlier today. He was glad when she seemed unphased by the news. If anything, she was happy, explaining how she thought it would be easier for Ron if he was the one to move on first.
So, Harry knew it wasn't shock that was making Hermione straighten in her chair and jut her chin out. She was bracing for a fight. Ron looked upset and was glaring at George, who was whispering something to Mrs. Weasley.
Mrs. Weasley ignored him and said louder, "It required a lot of courage and strength of character to pick yourself up and move on, after everything you went through. Having someone you thought a friend, someone you were ready to marry, break the promise she made to you and—"
"Mum!" Ron cut in.
"I theenk eet required great strength of character for 'ermione to do what she did," Fleur chimed in.
"Agreed," Bill added. "Would you have preferred if she kept her promise to marry Ron while she had feelings for someone else?"
"I would have preferred if she'd never developed feelings for anyone else," Mrs. Weasley snapped back.
Harry pinched the bridge of his nose under his glasses. He looked at Hermione, who was staring determinedly at her plate. He could tell she was trying to keep her face impassive, but could see her lip quivering slightly. Damn, he should have sat next to her. To hell with what everyone else thought. He wanted to take her hand and let her know everything was going to be okay.
Since Harry couldn't do any of that, he did the next best thing. "Mrs. Weasley," he said. The air around them stilled and everyone turned to face Harry. He blushed, but forced himself to continue speaking.
"It's me you're angry with. Not Hermione. She doesn't deserve this. She noticed some problems with her relationship with Ron and broke up with him and that's between them but it had nothing to do with me. I'm the one who fell in love with someone else and called off my wedding. I'm the one who broke a promise. So, it's me you should be berating. Not her."
Mrs. Weasley's mouth twitched. She seemed at a loss for what to say.
Ron chimed in next. "The way I see it, I'm the one who should be angry with Hermione, since I'm the one who got dumped." He turned to her and nudged her side. "And, well, I'm not. So, you all shouldn't be either."
"Well said," George added.
Hermione gave Ron a small smile.
"So by that logic," Ginny said coldly, "you should all be angry with Harry, since I still am. So go on, Mum, berate him like he said."
Mrs. Weasley opened her mouth but Harry couldn't tell by her expression if she was going to say something helpful or not. He never got a chance to find out, since Mr. Weasley finally decided to lend his voice to the conversation.
"No one's going to berate anyone. It was an unfortunate circumstance but we are determined to move on. Harry is family—has been since Ron first brought him home. So is Hermione, for that matter. And yes, Ginny, you and Harry still have things to work through, but that is between you two, not all of us." He ended with a tone of finality that silenced even Mrs. Weasley.
Ginny stood and threw her napkin on the table before marching into the house. Harry bit his lip and was about to go after her, but surprisingly, Hermione stood up and went into the house before he could protest. He figured he would only make things worse by approaching Ginny alongside Hermione, so decided to stay put.
Everyone was quiet, unsure what to say next.
"This is very good," Mr. Weasley announced, taking a large bite of his apple crumble.
"The whole dinner was great, Molly, as always," Angelina added.
Mrs. Weasley just huffed and returned to eating, looking slightly defeated. Harry looked at Ron, who was watching his mum warily. When it looked like she wasn't going to say anything else, he turned to Harry and gave him a small shrug that said, "Could have been worse."
Hermione knocked on the open door to Ginny's room, gripping the handle of her wand in her pocket. But that didn't seem necessary. Ginny was sitting on the edge of her bed, facing the window. Her wand was nowhere in sight. "Go away," she said.
Hermione pulled her hand out of her pocket and walked into the room. "I just came to tell you that I'm sorry, Ginny."
Ginny kept her back to her and said nothing.
"You've been a really good friend to me and I never meant to hurt you. I'm sorry for my role in your break-up."
Ginny snorted, then finally turned to face Hermione. Her eyes were stung with tears, but the look there was more angry, than sad. "Was it there the whole time? When you were giving me advice about Harry, you liked him? That's—that's twisted."
Hermione shook her head. "I didn't like him back in school. He was my best friend and I just wanted him to be happy. And he was happy with you."
"Until he wasn't," Ginny sneered.
Hermione had nothing to say to that.
"I knew there were problems, okay?" Ginny snapped. "But we had the rest of our lives to work on them. The only issue was—there was his best friend, offering him everything I wasn't. I didn't stand a chance! You never gave me a chance."
Hermione decided to avoid pointing out the serious flaws in the logic of this argument and stayed quiet.
"I can't continue on like nothing happened. Not like Ron's doing. That just shows you how much more invested I was in my relationship than he was in his."
Hermione's chest clenched. Now Ginny was just trying to hurt her. She had to bite her tongue to keep from pointing out how much Ron's determination to forgive her spoke more to his love for Hermione than Ginny's grudge did.
"I'm sorry to intrude on your family's dinner," Hermione said calmly. "Ron said you were ready but he was obviously mistaken. I won't come back. Not until you ask me to."
"That will be never," Ginny said harshly, then turned and stared out the window again.
Hermione just sighed. There was nothing left to say. Ginny obviously wasn't in the mood for this. Hermione returned downstairs to find that dinner was over and everyone had returned to the comfort of the warm house. She marched past the sitting room, where Mrs. Weasley was talking to Percy and Audrey while she bounced their new baby in her arms, and went straight to Ron and Harry, who were talking to Bill, Fleur, and Victoire by the door.
Ron patted her back when she reached his side. "Is she okay?"
"She'll be fine," Hermione said tersely. "I'm going to go. I think I've overstayed my welcome."
Fleur threw an arm around her. "You are weelcome at Sheel Cottage anytime you need a Weezley fix."
"Thanks, Fleur," Hermione replied with a smile.
"Can I get in on that?" Harry asked. "Teddy has been begging to see Victoire."
"Teddy!" Victoire shouted. "Teddy! Teddy!"
"She's obviously on board," Bill laughed. "Just send your owl and we'll work out a time."
Harry nodded, then turned to Hermione. "I can take you home."
"Yes please." She turned to Ron.
"You go on," he said. "I'm going to see if I can do some more—uh—smoothing over." He cocked his head toward the sitting room, where Mrs. Weasley was still talking to Percy and his wife.
Hermione pulled him into a tight hug. "Thank you, Ron," she murmured in his ear. "Thank you for being so understanding. I don't think I could have made it through the past few months without your support."
He patted her back as a warm blush crept up his neck. When she pulled away, Ron nodded to Harry and walked the two of them to the door. He felt a small pang in his chest as he watched them walking together down the path, leaning in to each other for support. But it was okay, he reminded himself. They'd come to dinner for him, even though it was the last thing they wanted to do. It was good they had someone to turn to and in the end, didn't Ron just want them to be happy?
"What did you and Ginny talk about?" Harry asked once they reached the front gate. Hermione walked through the gate, then turned to face him. "I apologized but she's still really angry. I don't—" She sighed and dabbed at her eyes. "I'm worried we'll never be able to be friends again. Not like we were." "I'm sorry. I hate that I hurt her so badly. I wish I could have figured it out sooner and prevented this." "I know." Harry wrapped his arms around her and felt her melt into him. "I am so sorry about everything they said. I was worried they were going to do that—blame you—and you didn't deserve it." "Thank you for speaking up for me," she replied, her voice muffled against his chest. He leaned back so he could see her. "You didn't think I would, did you?" She just shrugged, then looked up to find him frowning slightly. Harry cupped her cheek in his hand. "I love you," he said insistently. "You're the most important person in my life and I'm always going to stick up for you. I'm just sorry I wasn't able to grab your hand under the table. If we're ever allowed back, we're going to sit beside each other." "That would have made it worse." "For them, maybe. But it would have been better for you, and that's all I care about." She could tell by the look in his eyes he was sincere. And he'd even proven it, just now. He hadn't hesitated to speak out against Molly, of all people, then hadn't blinked an eye about leaving with Hermione. And now, he was holding her in his arms, even though they were technically still in sight of the house. He didn't give a damn about what the Weasleys thought. He just wanted her. Yeah, genius. He's sincere. And he's even proven it. Are you finally ready to believe him? No idea. Well, it's time to figure it out because you've officially run out of excuses.
