Session Two, Round Two Voting
Voting
Authors using skips: elysium_requiem, astarstrucklady
- You are voting for your least favorite and your favorite.
- Do not vote for yourself - either as favorite or least.
- Please present an objective opinion with your 'least favorite' vote. (Examples: Good - the writing style is confusing. Bad - Hermione kissed Ron, eww!)
- Voting will be up for three days.
Here is your voting form:
LEAST FAVORITE
# - (insert valid reason here)
FAVORITE
# - (reason optional)
#1
Title: On Solving Problems
Word Count: 2,719
Rating: PG-13
Notes: A thousand hugs to my beta, bernie_laraemie! He’s been very supportive and a wonderful help. :)
Hermione bit her lip as she walked over to the front door of Harry’s apartment and knocked. She didn’t care about how she looked - though her tousled hair, flustered cheeks and feral expression must’ve been a worrying sight to anybody that saw her standing there. A couple of minutes passed and Hermione was already fretting over the fact that her best friend had possibly gone off to Diagon Alley to do some shopping. Or, as he seemed to do more often lately, had gone to the pub just around the corner.
Shifting her weight from one foot to the other and tapping her fingers impatiently against the door frame, Hermione could only wait. She had to remind herself that she needed to be calm if she’d ever want to make clear to Harry why she had come to him and not babble uncontrollably and incoherently, which she could imagine herself doing.
Breathe, Hermione, it’s going to be all right. Harry will understand. Just -
The door opened with a rather loud bang and Hermione gasped, hurling herself forward onto Harry. He looked bewildered as she embraced him and held to him as if for dear life, knowing already that she wouldn’t be able to immediately collect herself.
“Harry, I…” she mumbled, but her words were muffled as she was pushing her face against his shoulder.
“Come in, Hermione, and then we’ll talk.”
She loosened her grip and glanced at Harry.
He was smiling in that wonderfully warm way of his that always came to mind when she had to conjure a Patronus charm. Of course, such need to cast the defense charm had been rare over the past few years because the War had ended for quite some time and peace had at last been returned to the community. Nonetheless Hermione couldn’t really disagree with the fact that that comforting smile appeared in her thoughts still, from time to time.
“O-okay,” she answered shakily. She walked past Harry, who had stepped aside to let her in. A familiar kind of peace swept over her, almost pushing out the general feeling of despair that had controlled her a mere few minutes ago. She took in the sight of Harry’s living room. It was cluttered and jam-packed with little knick-knacks, laundry draped over every chair and stool in the room, dirty mugs taking over the wonderful glass dining table - without having been put on a drip mat, Hermione noticed with a frown.
“Sorry about that, I didn’t know you were coming,” Harry apologized quietly, walking over to the table and picking up some empty bowls and glasses.
Hermione found this a quite interesting bit of information since she’d always considered Harry to be rather neat and tidy, at least more so than during their years at Hogwarts. So he always cleans up for me before I come over?
Her mouth fell open a little as if she wanted to say something, but the words were stuck in her throat. Instead she did a rather pitiful impression of a yawn and looked at her feet.
Harry, noticing that Hermione didn’t know how to begin her story, said she should sit down while he made her some tea. She nodded at him gratefully before sinking onto the - at least clean-looking - sofa in the corner of the room, by the fireplace.
While she was waiting for Harry to come back, a new wave of pain rushed through her. The cheerful sound of boiling water and the clattering of cups coming from the kitchen made her eyes slightly watery. She rested her head against the soft fabric of the sofa, trying to suppress the feeling of guilt stabbing at her stomach and to ban every single thought out of her head.
It didn’t take long before her best friend re-entered the room holding two cups of steamy, hot liquid. He handed one of them to her and sat down right beside her. She took a hesitant sip.
“Earl Grey with a pinch of sugar, your favorite.”
At that moment, Hermione couldn’t hold back her tears any longer and they started to flow down her cheeks, accompanied by a couple of sobs. Harry carefully took the cup from her trembling hands and placed it on the little table in front of them. He didn’t look at all surprised at Hermione’s outburst and he didn’t ask any questions either. It was now his turn to hold her in his arms. She felt comforting pats on her back that soon turned into strokes.
“Is it Ron?” He sighed when the sobs made place for huge heaves of breath.
“Yes. I… left him.”
Hermione couldn’t believe that she was acting like this, whimpering in Harry’s arms like a ten-year-old. She was supposed to be a competent and rational woman, she thought, as she wiped the tears from her cheek with the back of her hand.
“I’m sorry… it’s just been such a rough time lately, with me being fired and all-” She wanted to explain her sudden weakness to him, but Harry shushed her almost immediately.
“Hermione...I know you've had a horrible time recently. If...if you need anything, I'll do what I can to help,” Harry whispered, slowly letting go of her and looking her in the eyes.
Hermione nodded. This was what she needed to hear.
“Well, yesterday at breakfast… I told Ron I didn’t want to continue my life with him. I talked about how our relationship isn’t made up of the things it should be made up of. How it doesn’t - how it didn’t give us comfort or warmth anymore. How it was better if we’d just split up - oh, Harry, I’m such a horrible person! I told him he could have the apartment but he refused and started packing his things. He didn’t even look at me anymore, it hurt so much more than I ever could’ve imagined.”
Hermione sipped from her cup, too distressed to hold it straight. “I needed to get away from our flat - as he was packing. I suddenly hated the sight, the smell, the feel of it. I don’t want to be there right now.”
“You can stay here for as long as you want to. “You can take the bed, if you like. I'm comfortable on the sofa,” Harry said.
Feeling utterly speechless, Hermione took Harry’s hand and squeezed it firmly. It felt strong and soft in hers.
*
Hermione was sitting on the sofa that evening, watching Harry’s movements as he set the table.
“I want to help,” she said stubbornly, but her friend just smiled.
“You’re here as my guest so why should you feel obliged to do anything?”
She eyed him sulkily before turning her attention to her feet. When Harry disappeared into the kitchen again, Hermione couldn’t keep her mind occupied with trivial feelings anymore - gloomy thoughts swept in and out of her mind, making her squirm uncomfortably.
She suspected Harry had been off to see Ron a couple of hours ago. His unexplained absence had only lasted for about half an hour, but nonetheless Hermione had taken the opportunity to look inside his fridge while he was gone. And it being filled with all sorts of Uncle Snodgrass' One-Zap Quick Hot Plates, pre-cooked fish and plastic bags of pasta, she knew that he had definitely not gone shopping.
“I made chicken with mushrooms. Hope you like it.” Harry had suddenly entered the room with a large plate.
“It smells lovely.”
*
She was sitting next to him again on the sofa and when checked the clock above the mantelpiece her eyes went wide with surprise seeing that it was already past midnight. They had been talking animatedly for a couple of hours.
“Do you want to go to bed?” Harry asked her when he saw what she was looking at.
Stifling a yawn, she shook her head. “I want to talk to you about it - about me and Ron,” she said, “but I’d be taking advantage of you.”
“You know you’re not, Hermione.”
She smiled weakly and looked down.
“I knew this was going to come one day.”
Hermione felt a sting as she continued. “I had a feeling, a nagging one at the back of my mind that...that Ron might not...that he wasn't...”
A whole variety of memories, good and bad, swirled through her mind at that moment and she couldn’t go on. Harry sighed and continued for her.
“You were fighting rather a lot those past few weeks, weren’t you?”
A sentence formed itself on her tongue and jumped out as if it wasn’t a part of her. “We never really fit together. When we became a couple, we were young and passionate and needy and desperate for-”
“I get the picture.”
“Sorry,” Hermione uttered hastily, “I just meant that our fire died pretty quickly after we got together. And afterwards, we stayed together for all the wrong reasons.”
Harry looked at her, and he knew it was going to be a long night.
*
It was almost two ‘o clock in the afternoon when Harry was preparing them what he called ‘a rather late brunch’. She sat on the same chair as the previous evening, the one that was positioned perfectly to watch Harry’s busy movements in the kitchen. As tempting smells of frying bacon and cooked eggs came drifting into the room, she felt somewhat at peace for the first time in days.
“Fuck!” Harry cried out and then Hermione heard a loud clanging of falling pots and pans.
“All right, you’re going to need my help anyway, even if you still don’t want me to!”
Hermione grinned, and sprinted towards the kitchen.
*
“I’m absolutely certain that it’s going to be Kinglsey Shacklebolt.”
“Well, I think it’s definitely going to be Sturgis Podmore, though I absolutely prefer Kingsley .”
“And what makes you think that it’s going to be Sturgis Podmore?”
“I think that the hierarchy of the Ministry is still highly archaic and also submitted to the law of ancient family-lineage. And since the Podmores have delivered four Ministers in as many centuries-”
“Harry, you’ve read that copy of The Wizarding Society and its Recent Political History I gave you last Christmas, haven’t you?”
“Okay, you caught me,” he smirked at her.
Hermione raised her fist victoriously in the air and thought of kissing him full on the lips.
*
It was by far a much less noisier pub than she would have expected. A few people by the bar were quietly sipping their beers and the bartender stood by the window, staring at a field outside with glassy eyes.
“I can’t believe I’ve never been in here with you,” she said, turning to look at Harry.
“Oh, it’s all right. I just like the peace and silence of this place, that’s all. It’s not like I spend a lot of my time here.”
They sat down at a table in a corner and ordered their drinks.
“I don’t want to pick up clothes and other stuff from my flat, but I really need them. I’ve been wearing the same blouse and skirt for three days so I must look and smell like a beggar.”
Harry grinned and shook his head. “You would never look or smell like a beggar, Hermione. I quite like seeing you like this. All…disheveled.”
Hermione gaped at him for a few seconds.
“But I can pick up some things for you if you want, on my way back from the store.” Harry added hastily.
“No, we’ll do it together,” she suggested before taking another sip of her drink, “I want to make sure you pick out fruit in the store that isn’t in a state of decay this time.”
*
It was evening and Hermione loved the sight of the dancing red and gold flames in the fireplace. She and Harry were snuggled up in a blanket, sitting closely together, the warmth of the fire licking their skin. A distant voice came out of the Wizarding Wireless on the table in front of them as Harry was talking to her about how he would take her flying tomorrow.
She put her head on his shoulder and nodded curtly before she fell asleep.
*
Hermione heard a loud bang somewhere near the bed and she sat up, searching her pocket for her wand in an old reflex. Realizing she was in her pajamas, she reached for the bag of clothes Harry had fetched from her flat yesterday. She grabbed the thin, smooth piece of wood out from under a skirt in the bag and pulled herself to her feet, trying to determine were the sound had come from.
“Lumos!”
“Harry!” Hermione yelled as she saw her friend, standing in front of a chest of drawers, rubbing a reddened knee. “Did you run in to that?”
“Er… I have to admit I did.”
“What were you walking around the room in the middle of the night for?” Hermione stifled a very girlish giggle.
“You screamed! In your dream, I mean. Anyway, er, I wanted to wake you up.” He was blushing like a little kid caught in the act of doing something particularly naughty.
“You certainly woke me up.”
“I’m sorry.” He blushed more.
“I don’t mind. What were you going to do after you woke me up?” Hermione laughed.
“Why, comfort you, of course.” Harry grinned sheepishly.
“Well, then, my heart is still pounding in my chest because you really startled me there. I could use some comforting.”
Harry’s grin didn’t fade as he made his way to the bed.
*
“You went to see Ron again!” Hermione fumed, turning her back to him and crossing her arms in front of her chest. She knew she was making a fool of herself and that she must look absolutely ridiculous, but it didn’t matter to her anymore. A feeling of rage built up inside her, exponentially growing and her face flushed. The anger needed to come out in one way or another so she let out a violent shriek.
“Please…” Harry was looking at her, nonplussed at the sudden eruption. “I did, but I only talked to him about solving this problem!”
“Solving this problem? You talk about it as if it’s some kind of cryptogram in a puzzle book!”
“Hermione, listen to me.”
Suddenly, the peaceful sound of his voice calmed down the waves of fury gushing through her body. She sighed deeply and turned to face him again.
“Harry, I’ve got to tell you the truth.”
“The truth?” He looked suspicious.
“Yes. Why don’t we sit down?” Hermione suggested with what she thought would be a kind smile.
Harry sat down and waited patiently until she did the same. He was watching her face curiously, one eyebrow raised in a very familiar manner.
“I don’t want you to solve this problem. And that is the truth. I know I’ll get on speaking terms with Ron again somewhere in the future, probably even on friendly terms. We have too much of a history together to step out of each other’s lives completely, but…”
Harry still didn’t speak. She wished he would find a spot to stare at open-mouthed other than her lips.
“I want to be with you, Harry.” The words came out of her mouth in a serene melody.
Suddenly, Harry didn’t have to answer her anymore: his eyes spoke a thousand words. He leaned forward with a mischievous grin, taking a couple of strands of her chocolate-brown hair between his fingers. A ray of sunshine splintered between the silky strings and they turned golden before their eyes.
“I was really hoping you would say that, Hermione. I have to admit I wasn’t trying to solve this problem wholeheartedly. I trying to get Ron to speak to you again, that’s all.”
He gave her quick peck on the cheek before jumping up, startling her. “Come on, you promised me yesterday you’d sit on a broom again if I’d steer it. We’re going to take a ride above London.”
A feeling of joy washed through her as she followed him outside, a tingly feeling in her fingers telling her that she wasn’t only excited about flying through the sky with Harry, but also about the new chapter in her life that had just begun.
~
#2
Title: From an Unexpected Observer
Word Count: 2,960
Rating: PG-13
Life had grown awkward between the Trio. While their public appearances reassured the public that those responsible for the downfall of Voldemort were healthy and happy, the truth was much more difficult. Feelings spawned in the midst of the tumultuous war that they had fought had cooled, leaving broken or straggling relationships. The struggle to realize the better world that they had fought so hard for constantly left them weary. Harry and Ron worked in the newly reorganized Auror department and Hermione was the assistant director for the Sentient Species Liaison Office, one of many reforms that had come to the Ministry. Its destruction had been a boon to some as the breakdown of the previous bureaucracy had allowed for a reconstruction. Not that the new Ministry was perfect-there would always be those who worked with their own agenda and disagreement over the importance of some departments.
It was perhaps this new struggle to make the world better, where one could not duel one’s opponents with a wand, which caused the stress that had fractured the Trio. They had always worked well together, particularly Harry and Hermione. Now, while their goals were in essence the same, the approaches were far more different than ever. The harder they worked, they more they fell apart, and they hid the pain by devoting more time to their new causes.
~~~~
Hermione and Luna were meeting for lunch on Tuesday at the Leaky Cauldron to go over notes for an upcoming conference that Hermione was attending. Luna would be there representing the Quibbler, which was more popular among some circles than the Daily Prophet. Its popularity corresponded with friends of Harry, Hermione, and Ron, who were only too appreciative of the support that Luna had given them.
Hermione was detailing the conference schedule, in particular pointing out the seminars that Luna may want to focus on, when she was suddenly interrupted.
“Friendship is certainly the finest balm for the pangs of disappointed love,” said Luna, her large, grey eyes seeming to stare straight through Hermione, without seeing her at all.
“What-I guess you enjoyed the books I loaned you, then?” Hermione replied, startled at Luna’s response, though she should be used to the younger girl’s insightfulness by now.
“Yes, they were quite delightful and I can see why you enjoyed them. Muggles are quite peculiar in so many things, but in others, we’re a lot alike,” Luna continued to muse.
“Well, of course we are, that’s what this conference is all about,” Hermione, having returned to a comfortable topic, started speaking quickly, “After all, so many people had that misguided view that the Fountain in the old Ministry Atrium propagated-that the wizard was the superior creature. One can’t truly believe such things and then rely upon the advances made by other races, honestly-“
“I’m not talking about the conference, Hermione,” Luna cut in again, her focus completely on Hermione this time, making the latter uncomfortable. “You’re hurting-all three of you. None of you are happy and all of your accomplishments seem empty. You’ve lost your friendship. Emptiness like that attracts the worst sort of little creatures. They feed on it and make it grow, especially as I’m sure that you’ve not been using fennel perfume to keep them away.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Luna,” said Hermione dismissively. “I’m fine. We’re all just fine.”
“When’s the last time the three of you spent any time together?” Luna’s gaze had left Hermione’s face and she now seemed to be doing some mental calculations.
“I…uh…Well, there was…no… Surely sometime in the last-six months.” Hermione winced. How had so much time gone by? Were not these two her best friends? Then why did it hurt so much to be around them?
Luna continued to watch Hermione out of the corner of her eye, noting the change in expression now that she had really started to think about the question. Luna then stood up and patted Hermione on the shoulder.
“My point exactly.” With that, Luna waltzed out of the café before Hermione could say anything else.
Hermione turned back to her cup of pumpkin juice and stared at it, while Luna’s words echoed in her head. Granted, she had known that things were not going well, but she did not think it was so obvious to everyone else. Her mind raced through all of the halting interactions the Trio had had. It had simply become so painful to think about that she had grown accustomed to placing all such thoughts in a box and ignoring them. She let out a quiet gasp as her chest was seized with a sudden constriction. Tears bloomed in the corners of her eyes and she got up and quickly left, leaving a few Galleons on the table to cover their partially eaten lunch.
Instead of rushing back to the office, as she normally would have done, Hermione cast a quick Glamour Charm and wandered down into Diagon Alley. She saw evidence the war, but at the same time, she saw people moving on with their lives and that some things really had changed. Madame Malkin’s no longer sold just robes, but was expanding into Muggle clothes, especially for the younger witches and wizards just out of Hogwarts. A witch was walking out of Flourish and Blott’s and there was a Muggle history text in her pile of books. There was a house-elf and a wizard sitting at Florean Fortescue’s and the elf was in a chair of his own, not waiting on the wizard nor hiding. Though the elf looked quite uncomfortable and some of the people passing were scowling in their direction.
All of these changes were tremendous, but what struck Hermione the most, as she meandered slowly down the Alley, was the overall feeling of the place. It was full of hope and determination not to make the same mistakes as caused Voldemort to be able to take power. Seeing a few people she knew from Hogwarts, their casual banter touched her anew. In working so hard to make a better world, she had been unable to enjoy the benefits of it. Her heart ached with all that she had lost and she wondered if perhaps she too should make a change for something better.
Hermione realized that it was time to focus on making her life better, instead of worrying more about everyone else’s.
~~~~~~~~
Twin letters arrived in two separate offices by interdepartmental memo a little later that afternoon.
We need to fix this mess between us, before we’re all so far gone that there is no coming back. We were always better when we were working together.
My flat, Friday, 8 p.m. No excuses will be tolerated. If you do not show, I will hunt you down and drag your arse there.
Love,
Hermione
Ron took one look at the note and started cursing, then picked up a quill.
What the bloody hell are you up to? You said we were over a long time ago. Why are you bringing this stuff up now?
Ron
Ron, stop being a prat. This isn’t about you and I. This is about the three of us-our friendship.
You can bring the Firewhisky. See you Friday at 8.
Hermione
Harry stared at the note. His first reaction was to write back and say that there was no way he was going to be there. After all, he really did have plans already…or at least work to do. Plus, Hermione’s tone pissed him off a little. What right did she have to boss him around as if they were still school kids? Then, a little voice in his head, which still sounded suspiciously like Hermione, reminded him how much he owed her. The voice reminded him how much he had enjoyed being with her and the history that they shared. He took up a pen and paper-he thought quills were really quite ridiculous for his work-and stared at the blank sheet, trying to come up with something to say. In the end, he simply wrote,
Sure.
~~~~~~~~
Friday evening came along and Hermione had cleaned her flat twelve times, chosen and then rejected an outfit eight times, picked out five different options for food, rearranged the furniture three times, and by seven p.m., was wondering what had possessed her to propose such an idea in the first place.
“I shouldn’t be going this crazy,” she muttered to herself, “It’s just Harry and Ron.” With her determination renewed, she chose a pair of jeans (that flattered her bum quite nicely, not that she was thinking of such things) and a simple, red shirt. Then, she started rehearsing what she wanted to say, while she checked on the food in the kitchen.
Ron, having been fully convinced that showing up at Hermione’s would be the worst way to start out the weekend, nevertheless found himself standing in his room on Friday at seven-thirty, trying to find a clean shirt to wear. After finding one that was not too wrinkled and did not smell too bad, he Apparated off to buy some Firewhisky.
It was seven forty-five and Harry was sitting in his living room, wearing a blue shirt and black jeans, as he had been for the past hour. Over the past few days, his mind had gone over and over the note that Hermione had sent. Why, after all this time, had she contacted them? He rather assumed “them” as he had decided early on that the note could not mean just him. Sometimes, the note made him smile, as the bossiness was so typically her. Other times, thinking of her just brought back the pain of everything they had been through and their slow estrangement. It had been easier just to push the pain away, to just do what was expected of him. He had his routine down, but now she was trying to shake things up. When had things become so complicated? Who could have guessed that a girl-with buckteeth and bushy hair, looking for a toad-could have affected his life so utterly?
Glancing at his watch, Harry stood and then flicked his wand, vanishing without a sound.
Appearing in an alleyway near Hermione’s building, Harry slowly walked out, having made sure that he was not seen. Noticing Ron up ahead, Harry hurried to catch up with him, figuring that he should make an effort as Hermione had already done so in calling the three of them together. Ron heard Harry approach and turned around just before Harry reached him.
“Hey, Ron,” said Harry, extending a hand.
Ron shifted the bag he was carrying to his other arm and grasped Harry’s hand firmly. “Hey. It’s been awhile, Harry.”
“Yeah…” Not sure what else to say, Harry shook Ron’s hand and then two men started moving off again. “So, did you get the same note I did?”
“Probably. Some stuff about dragging my arse to her place if I didn’t show up,” said Ron, though he cracked a smile at Harry.
“Well, she always was the bossy one, and we normally needed it too.”
“Yeah, mental, that one,” Ron joked and both men looked at each other and laughed.
“Remember S.P.E.W.?” commented Harry, glad to find a comfortable topic.
“How I could forget? She went on and on about it. Who knew she’d actually figure a way to make it work?” They had reached Hermione’s building and Ron grabbed the door so they both could head inside.
“Well, that’s our Hermione. She’d find a way with pure stubbornness. Never gave up on us, and we were surely hopeless at times.” Harry’s smile faltered a bit as his mind wandered to their current estrangement. “I’m glad she didn’t ever give up.”
Ron did not look at Harry, but continued down the hallway to Hermione’s door. “Me too.”
Harry hurried to catch up to Ron and then knocked on the door.
Hermione opened the door quickly, almost as if she had been standing near the door waiting. She grinned at seeing them there; though, Harry thought her expression changed quickly while Ron was not looking, only to go back to grinning again.
“Come in! Come sit down in the living room. I’ll be right back.” With that, she gestured towards the living room and rushed off to the kitchen, from where fantastic smells were coming.
Harry and Ron exchanged a glance and headed in to sit down. Ron snagged the chair and Harry took one end of the couch. Then Ron opened up the bag he was carrying and retrieved a large bottle of Firewhisky.
“Hermione told me to,” Ron responded to Harry’s questioning glance.
Hermione herself entered at that moment and set down a platter on the coffee table. Before she could sit down on the couch with Harry, Ron had already snatched a handful.
Rolling his eyes, Harry turned to Hermione, “So…what prompted all of this? I mean-I thought you were fine, that we were all fine.”
“Don’t we deserve better than just ‘fine’? When’s the last time we just hung out together? Isn’t it about time that we face our demons, instead of hiding from them and each other?” Hermione was perched on the edge of her seat, ready to say more, but Ron held up a hand.
“What d’ya want, Hermione? Things can’t be the way they used to be.” Ron sank back into his chair, and then grabbed the bottle from the floor by his feet, “Have any glasses?”
“Yes, they’re in the kitchen. I’ll get them,” Hermione jumped up, but Harry grabbed her arm.
“No, let me,” Harry gently pulled her back to her seat, “I’m sure that I can find them.” Harry got up and left Ron and Hermione alone.
“I’m sorry that things ended the way they did, Ron.” Hermione turned back to him, her hand running over her arm where Harry had touched it.
“You don’t need to bring this up, Hermione.”
“Yes, I do. Not talking about things is part of what put us in this mess in the first place.”
“It’s ok, Hermione. Sure, I was upset about it at the time-ok, so pissed off might be a better way to put it-but I got over it. It was only a passing thing.”
“Ron…” Hermione jumped up and hugged him, to which he just patted her back, sitting back in her seat upon hearing Harry come back in the room.
“Found ‘em,” said Harry, glancing back and forth between Hermione and Ron. He set the glasses on the table and grabbed some food, more to keep himself busy than anything else.
After accepting the glass that Ron handed her and sipping, Hermione took a deep breath and began what she had planned to say, “I’m not ignoring that things have become quite difficult between the three of us,” Ron snorted and Hermione gave him a brief glare before continuing, “and I’m not saying that we can fix things overnight. But, I think we have to try. The three of us have a lot of history together. We’ve done some amazing things, but it’s almost always been together.” Harry looked he wanted to interrupt, but Hermione shook her head. “No, let me finish this. Luna said something to me the other day, and it made me realize that we’ll never be happy unless we fix this friendship of ours. I’m not saying that it will be easy. But, Dumbledore warned us about choosing the easy path.” She cracked a sad smile, remembering the man who had influenced their lives immensely.
“Well, when you put it like that, Hermione,” Harry said into the silence that had followed her words. “After all, it can’t be harder than taking out a troll.”
“Or Fluffy,” Ron chimed in.
“Or an Acromantula,” Hermione added, with a sly glance at Ron.
He shivered, and they all laughed. “Hey, do you remember-“
The conversation continued late into the night, helped along by the food and liberal amounts of Firewhisky. They stayed on safe topics and happier times, as they were too relieved in actually talking again to bring up their most recent demons.
Finally, Ron had passed out on the chair and Harry and Hermione were still awake, stretched out on the couch and carefully not touching.
“We’ve had a lot of adventures, haven’t we, Harry?” whispered Hermione, her voice slurred as a result of the alcohol and tiredness.
“Yeah. I never would have been able to do any of it without you, Hermione,” Harry responded. The peaceful quiet was only punctuated with Ron’s snoring.
“Everything would have been lost without you. I would have been lost without you. You’re a great wizard, Harry.” Hermione scooted closer to him.
Harry leaned towards Hermione, “Not great enough, apparently, or I wouldn’t have been such a prat and noticed you sooner. You really are far more than books and cleverness, Hermione, and I’ve let you down again.”
“We were both hurting; we’re still hurting.” Hermione put her forehead next to his. “It’s time to try to make things right. Friends?’
“Best friends,” Harry responded, taking her hand in his.
They sat like that for a moment, both uncertain, both not wanting to break the moment.
Hermione took a deep breath and the moment passed. She laid her head down on his shoulder. “I’ve missed you, Harry,” she breathed.
“I’ve missed you too. What did Luna say, by the way?” asked Harry, but he looked down to see that Hermione had fallen asleep. He wrapped one arm around Hermione and resolved that he would have to thank Luna, for whatever it was that she had said.
~
#3
Title: How They Were
Word Count: 2,022
Rating: PG
Life really had been quite pleasant since the end of the war. Hermione and Ron were married, and Harry and Ginny shortly afterwards.
Actually, life didn’t seem much different than all the summers they had spent together at the Burrow. The four of them still spent most of their free time together-having dinner, going to plays and musicals and the Muggle cinema. They would laugh about old times and talk about what their futures were going to be like.
They didn’t talk much about the war, though: Harry didn’t like to discuss it, and if ever it were brought up, he would find an excuse to leave the room. Later that night as the two of them lie awake in bed, Ginny would ask him why, why wouldn’t he talk about it? He would mutter something inaudible and roll over. Once Ginny thought she made out the phrase never want to know. She couldn’t make any sense of this, but she knew she shouldn’t enquire further. She soon learned not to enquire at all.
When they were in public, people would look at them with gentle expressions. Harry Potter, his wife, and their two best friends. The teenagers who had saved the Wizarding World.
Occasionally someone would approach them, asking for an autograph, or for their child to have a picture taken with them. Couples who had married around the time of the first war would smile at them, remembering how the war had brought them together, how scared they had been, and how they had needed that one person to be there with them all the time.
Of course, they would think, their story is the same as ours.
Others would be smiling at the déjà vu they encountered when seeing Harry and Ginny together looking so much like James and Lily had twenty years earlier.
They were happy like that. Perfectly, wonderfully, blissfully happy.
***
The doorbell rang. Hermione opened her eyes to see 2:46 staring back at her in bright red. Normally she would have asked Ron to answer it, and he would have grudgingly obliged, but work had called him out of town for the weekend. She pulled on a bathrobe, slid her feet into slippers, and slowly, groggily, made her way down the stairs.
She opened the door to find Harry standing there. She could tell he was just about as awake as she was, and his wrinkled jeans and t-shirt told her he had dressed in a hurry. Instinctively, she put a finger over her lips as an indication for him to speak softly since baby Rose was asleep.
He just stood there, hands in his pockets and mouth half open like there was something he wanted to say, but he didn’t know how to say it.
“Is something wrong?” she asked.
“I…I…I…I’m sorry. I really shouldn’t have come. Not now, at least.”
And then he turned around and disapparated.
Hermione woke up the next morning wondering if it had all been a dream.
***
After they started having children, it was more like four parents raising five kids together than two separate families. True, they lived in separate houses, but there was always at least one Potter at the Weasley house and at least one Weasley at the Potter house.
The couples held as much authority over their nieces and nephews as they did their own children, and the children respected their aunt an uncle as much as they did their parents.
When they were in public, passersby often couldn’t tell which of the five were siblings, and which were cousins.
They didn’t have as much time for each other. Life became more about cleaning up messes and knowing who was where when and less about double dates and Quidditch matches. Marriage became more about parenting and less about romance.
Hermione and Ron had gotten into the longest argument over what to name their son. It had been agreed that Hermione would name the girls, and Ron would name the boys. Hermione hated the name Hugo. Who in the world names their kid Hugo? Hugh would have even been more acceptable! Hugo is for old, fat men.
Ron had replied that even old, fat men are children at one point. Hermione had finally given in and had come to the conclusion that Harry (who had named his second son Albus Severus) and Ron were just of a cruel kind of human who liked inflicting torture upon small children by giving them awful names.
***
The doorbell rang. Two-year-old Lily loved her Aunt Hermione, so Harry scooped her off the floor and carried her on his shoulders as he went to answer the door. Hermione stood on the doorstep with Rose and Hugo each holding one of her hands.
“Here are the kids! I hope they have fun!”
Lily reached her arms out for Hermione. Harry bent his knees to lean down so Hermione could lift her off his shoulders. “How is my favorite niece in the whole wide world?” Hermione asked before covering Lily’s face with kisses. The little girl giggled.
Harry smiled and looked down at Rose and Hugo. “James and Albus are in the playroom. Why don’t you join them?” The two toddlers let go of their mother’s hands and headed to the playroom. Lily squirmed until Hermione put her down and followed running just as fast as she could to catch up. Harry looked back up at Hermione. “Do you want to stay for a few minutes? Have a cup of tea?”
“Sure.”
Hermione followed Harry to the kitchen, where he set a kettle on the stove to boil. She sat at the small table while he leaned against the counter. “I’ve been thinking a lot,” he finally said, “about the war and the kids.”
“Mmhmm?”
“I know you, Ron, Ginny, and I haven’t really discussed it, and I know that’s mostly my fault, but when should we tell them?”
He paused, looking at her for the answer.
When she didn’t respond, he continued on, “How should we tell them? I don’t want them to develop the mentality that their daddy-or uncle in Rose and Hugo’s case-is a huge hero and they’re better than everyone because of it.”
“I know, Harry.” Hermione said softly.
“They’re going to find out eventually, though…when they get to Hogwarts if not before. It’s not as common as it was at first, but I do still get stares when I go out.”
Harry paused. Hermione could tell he had more to say, so she let the silence hang.
Finally he said with quick, frustrated words, “I’m not that great, you know. Really, it was nothing. It was something that had to be done, and I was the one who had to do it. It wasn’t even a proper choice.”
Hermione walked over to him and placed her hand on his. “I know, Harry. Believe me, I remember.” There was no annoyance in her voice, only gentle love and concern. “Have you talked to Ginny about this?”
Harry hesitated before shaking his head. “I…can’t. I don’t know why, but I can’t ever talk about the war around her. It doesn’t feel right. She wasn’t there with us for most of it. She helped when it came to the action, but she never helped with the process. She never helped with what really mattered.”
“She’s your wife, Harry,” Hermione said, giving his hand a squeeze. “She deserves to know.”
“I tried. Hell, I tried when we were dating. And every time I tried, she would pay attention at first, but then quickly lose interest. I tried to tell her I’m not a hero, and she changed the subject. She wants me to be the hero. She wants to be married to The Boy Who Saved the World not to The Boy Who Kept Getting Lucky.”
The tea kettle sounded, and Harry got out the teacups and poured the tea. He took a sip of his before continuing. “She used to bring it up all the time. She would bring it up, and I would try to explain, and she would change the subject. I finally stopped trying to answer, and she finally stopped asking.”
Hermione set down her teacup. “You should try again. Really, Harry, that was years ago. You talk to me about it all the time. It’s not fair to her.”
Harry sighed and placed his teacup next to Hermione’s. He placed a hand on the side of her face.
They both froze for a second thinking about how they really shouldn’t be standing this close to each other.
Then they realized that they didn’t really care.
“It’s different with you,” Harry said. “You’ve known all along that it was all luck.”
“I’m really sorry she feels that way.” Hermione whispered. And then her lips were on his.
Harry pulled her into the kiss and wondered why it had taken them so long to realize this is how it should have been to begin with-the two of them together. She had always been the one by his side. She had always been the one helping him. Even when Ron left during those long, useless days searching for the horcruxes in the forest, Hermione had stayed.
He had always considered the day in the graveyard to be one of the best days of his life, and now he knew that it wasn’t just because he had finally been able to see his parents’ graves and come to peace with that part of his life. It was also because it was something they had shared. Together.
They forgot how they should have been and remembered how they were when they heard a crash in the playroom followed by Rose screaming, “James knocked down my castle!”
***
They never discussed the kiss after that. They both figured they should put it out of their minds. They couldn’t start a love affair. The press had stopped stalking Harry five years before, and they didn’t need a reason for them to start following him again. Even if it hadn’t been a matter of the press, they couldn’t hurt the children that way.
***
The doorbell rang. As Hermione opened the door, the chill of October swept in. Harry stood there wearing a heavy jacket and holding two thermoses. “Do you want to go for a walk? I have hot chocolate.”
Hermione smiled. “Sure, let me put on a coat and shoes.”
“It’s weird, you know, not having them around,” Harry said as they walked through the park.”
Hermione smiled. “I know what you mean. I had begun to wonder if this house would ever be quiet again. When they are here, you sometimes wish they were gone, but when they are gone, you always wish they were here.”
“And you worry about them,” Harry said before taking a sip from his thermos. “I always thought that was just something the mothers did, but I think about the five of them all the time. I want to write them letters and send them packages everyday, but I figure you and Ginny do enough of that to provide them with a lifetime of embarrassment.”
“You’re probably right,” Hermione laughed. “Speaking of, I have a couple of care packages Ginny and I prepared last night for Lily and Hugo. Remind me to send them when we get back to my house.”
Suddenly a hard wind blew and Hermione shivered. Harry put his arm around her. “Do you want to go back now?”
Hermione leaned into him. “No, really, I’m fine. I don’t mind the cold much.”
They walked in silence for a few minutes enjoying the bright yellows and oranges of autumn.
“Hermione?”
“Yes?”
“I love you, you know.”
“Yes. I know.”
“And you know I know you love me?”
“Yes. I know that, too. And you know why it’s too late for it to be that way, right? Why it’s been too late for twenty years now?”
“Yes. I know.”
~
Stories #4 and #5 here.
Authors using skips: elysium_requiem, astarstrucklady
- You are voting for your least favorite and your favorite.
- Do not vote for yourself - either as favorite or least.
- Please present an objective opinion with your 'least favorite' vote. (Examples: Good - the writing style is confusing. Bad - Hermione kissed Ron, eww!)
- Voting will be up for three days.
Here is your voting form:
LEAST FAVORITE
# - (insert valid reason here)
FAVORITE
# - (reason optional)
#1
Title: On Solving Problems
Word Count: 2,719
Rating: PG-13
Notes: A thousand hugs to my beta, bernie_laraemie! He’s been very supportive and a wonderful help. :)
Hermione bit her lip as she walked over to the front door of Harry’s apartment and knocked. She didn’t care about how she looked - though her tousled hair, flustered cheeks and feral expression must’ve been a worrying sight to anybody that saw her standing there. A couple of minutes passed and Hermione was already fretting over the fact that her best friend had possibly gone off to Diagon Alley to do some shopping. Or, as he seemed to do more often lately, had gone to the pub just around the corner.
Shifting her weight from one foot to the other and tapping her fingers impatiently against the door frame, Hermione could only wait. She had to remind herself that she needed to be calm if she’d ever want to make clear to Harry why she had come to him and not babble uncontrollably and incoherently, which she could imagine herself doing.
Breathe, Hermione, it’s going to be all right. Harry will understand. Just -
The door opened with a rather loud bang and Hermione gasped, hurling herself forward onto Harry. He looked bewildered as she embraced him and held to him as if for dear life, knowing already that she wouldn’t be able to immediately collect herself.
“Harry, I…” she mumbled, but her words were muffled as she was pushing her face against his shoulder.
“Come in, Hermione, and then we’ll talk.”
She loosened her grip and glanced at Harry.
He was smiling in that wonderfully warm way of his that always came to mind when she had to conjure a Patronus charm. Of course, such need to cast the defense charm had been rare over the past few years because the War had ended for quite some time and peace had at last been returned to the community. Nonetheless Hermione couldn’t really disagree with the fact that that comforting smile appeared in her thoughts still, from time to time.
“O-okay,” she answered shakily. She walked past Harry, who had stepped aside to let her in. A familiar kind of peace swept over her, almost pushing out the general feeling of despair that had controlled her a mere few minutes ago. She took in the sight of Harry’s living room. It was cluttered and jam-packed with little knick-knacks, laundry draped over every chair and stool in the room, dirty mugs taking over the wonderful glass dining table - without having been put on a drip mat, Hermione noticed with a frown.
“Sorry about that, I didn’t know you were coming,” Harry apologized quietly, walking over to the table and picking up some empty bowls and glasses.
Hermione found this a quite interesting bit of information since she’d always considered Harry to be rather neat and tidy, at least more so than during their years at Hogwarts. So he always cleans up for me before I come over?
Her mouth fell open a little as if she wanted to say something, but the words were stuck in her throat. Instead she did a rather pitiful impression of a yawn and looked at her feet.
Harry, noticing that Hermione didn’t know how to begin her story, said she should sit down while he made her some tea. She nodded at him gratefully before sinking onto the - at least clean-looking - sofa in the corner of the room, by the fireplace.
While she was waiting for Harry to come back, a new wave of pain rushed through her. The cheerful sound of boiling water and the clattering of cups coming from the kitchen made her eyes slightly watery. She rested her head against the soft fabric of the sofa, trying to suppress the feeling of guilt stabbing at her stomach and to ban every single thought out of her head.
It didn’t take long before her best friend re-entered the room holding two cups of steamy, hot liquid. He handed one of them to her and sat down right beside her. She took a hesitant sip.
“Earl Grey with a pinch of sugar, your favorite.”
At that moment, Hermione couldn’t hold back her tears any longer and they started to flow down her cheeks, accompanied by a couple of sobs. Harry carefully took the cup from her trembling hands and placed it on the little table in front of them. He didn’t look at all surprised at Hermione’s outburst and he didn’t ask any questions either. It was now his turn to hold her in his arms. She felt comforting pats on her back that soon turned into strokes.
“Is it Ron?” He sighed when the sobs made place for huge heaves of breath.
“Yes. I… left him.”
Hermione couldn’t believe that she was acting like this, whimpering in Harry’s arms like a ten-year-old. She was supposed to be a competent and rational woman, she thought, as she wiped the tears from her cheek with the back of her hand.
“I’m sorry… it’s just been such a rough time lately, with me being fired and all-” She wanted to explain her sudden weakness to him, but Harry shushed her almost immediately.
“Hermione...I know you've had a horrible time recently. If...if you need anything, I'll do what I can to help,” Harry whispered, slowly letting go of her and looking her in the eyes.
Hermione nodded. This was what she needed to hear.
“Well, yesterday at breakfast… I told Ron I didn’t want to continue my life with him. I talked about how our relationship isn’t made up of the things it should be made up of. How it doesn’t - how it didn’t give us comfort or warmth anymore. How it was better if we’d just split up - oh, Harry, I’m such a horrible person! I told him he could have the apartment but he refused and started packing his things. He didn’t even look at me anymore, it hurt so much more than I ever could’ve imagined.”
Hermione sipped from her cup, too distressed to hold it straight. “I needed to get away from our flat - as he was packing. I suddenly hated the sight, the smell, the feel of it. I don’t want to be there right now.”
“You can stay here for as long as you want to. “You can take the bed, if you like. I'm comfortable on the sofa,” Harry said.
Feeling utterly speechless, Hermione took Harry’s hand and squeezed it firmly. It felt strong and soft in hers.
*
Hermione was sitting on the sofa that evening, watching Harry’s movements as he set the table.
“I want to help,” she said stubbornly, but her friend just smiled.
“You’re here as my guest so why should you feel obliged to do anything?”
She eyed him sulkily before turning her attention to her feet. When Harry disappeared into the kitchen again, Hermione couldn’t keep her mind occupied with trivial feelings anymore - gloomy thoughts swept in and out of her mind, making her squirm uncomfortably.
She suspected Harry had been off to see Ron a couple of hours ago. His unexplained absence had only lasted for about half an hour, but nonetheless Hermione had taken the opportunity to look inside his fridge while he was gone. And it being filled with all sorts of Uncle Snodgrass' One-Zap Quick Hot Plates, pre-cooked fish and plastic bags of pasta, she knew that he had definitely not gone shopping.
“I made chicken with mushrooms. Hope you like it.” Harry had suddenly entered the room with a large plate.
“It smells lovely.”
*
She was sitting next to him again on the sofa and when checked the clock above the mantelpiece her eyes went wide with surprise seeing that it was already past midnight. They had been talking animatedly for a couple of hours.
“Do you want to go to bed?” Harry asked her when he saw what she was looking at.
Stifling a yawn, she shook her head. “I want to talk to you about it - about me and Ron,” she said, “but I’d be taking advantage of you.”
“You know you’re not, Hermione.”
She smiled weakly and looked down.
“I knew this was going to come one day.”
Hermione felt a sting as she continued. “I had a feeling, a nagging one at the back of my mind that...that Ron might not...that he wasn't...”
A whole variety of memories, good and bad, swirled through her mind at that moment and she couldn’t go on. Harry sighed and continued for her.
“You were fighting rather a lot those past few weeks, weren’t you?”
A sentence formed itself on her tongue and jumped out as if it wasn’t a part of her. “We never really fit together. When we became a couple, we were young and passionate and needy and desperate for-”
“I get the picture.”
“Sorry,” Hermione uttered hastily, “I just meant that our fire died pretty quickly after we got together. And afterwards, we stayed together for all the wrong reasons.”
Harry looked at her, and he knew it was going to be a long night.
*
It was almost two ‘o clock in the afternoon when Harry was preparing them what he called ‘a rather late brunch’. She sat on the same chair as the previous evening, the one that was positioned perfectly to watch Harry’s busy movements in the kitchen. As tempting smells of frying bacon and cooked eggs came drifting into the room, she felt somewhat at peace for the first time in days.
“Fuck!” Harry cried out and then Hermione heard a loud clanging of falling pots and pans.
“All right, you’re going to need my help anyway, even if you still don’t want me to!”
Hermione grinned, and sprinted towards the kitchen.
*
“I’m absolutely certain that it’s going to be Kinglsey Shacklebolt.”
“Well, I think it’s definitely going to be Sturgis Podmore, though I absolutely prefer Kingsley .”
“And what makes you think that it’s going to be Sturgis Podmore?”
“I think that the hierarchy of the Ministry is still highly archaic and also submitted to the law of ancient family-lineage. And since the Podmores have delivered four Ministers in as many centuries-”
“Harry, you’ve read that copy of The Wizarding Society and its Recent Political History I gave you last Christmas, haven’t you?”
“Okay, you caught me,” he smirked at her.
Hermione raised her fist victoriously in the air and thought of kissing him full on the lips.
*
It was by far a much less noisier pub than she would have expected. A few people by the bar were quietly sipping their beers and the bartender stood by the window, staring at a field outside with glassy eyes.
“I can’t believe I’ve never been in here with you,” she said, turning to look at Harry.
“Oh, it’s all right. I just like the peace and silence of this place, that’s all. It’s not like I spend a lot of my time here.”
They sat down at a table in a corner and ordered their drinks.
“I don’t want to pick up clothes and other stuff from my flat, but I really need them. I’ve been wearing the same blouse and skirt for three days so I must look and smell like a beggar.”
Harry grinned and shook his head. “You would never look or smell like a beggar, Hermione. I quite like seeing you like this. All…disheveled.”
Hermione gaped at him for a few seconds.
“But I can pick up some things for you if you want, on my way back from the store.” Harry added hastily.
“No, we’ll do it together,” she suggested before taking another sip of her drink, “I want to make sure you pick out fruit in the store that isn’t in a state of decay this time.”
*
It was evening and Hermione loved the sight of the dancing red and gold flames in the fireplace. She and Harry were snuggled up in a blanket, sitting closely together, the warmth of the fire licking their skin. A distant voice came out of the Wizarding Wireless on the table in front of them as Harry was talking to her about how he would take her flying tomorrow.
She put her head on his shoulder and nodded curtly before she fell asleep.
*
Hermione heard a loud bang somewhere near the bed and she sat up, searching her pocket for her wand in an old reflex. Realizing she was in her pajamas, she reached for the bag of clothes Harry had fetched from her flat yesterday. She grabbed the thin, smooth piece of wood out from under a skirt in the bag and pulled herself to her feet, trying to determine were the sound had come from.
“Lumos!”
“Harry!” Hermione yelled as she saw her friend, standing in front of a chest of drawers, rubbing a reddened knee. “Did you run in to that?”
“Er… I have to admit I did.”
“What were you walking around the room in the middle of the night for?” Hermione stifled a very girlish giggle.
“You screamed! In your dream, I mean. Anyway, er, I wanted to wake you up.” He was blushing like a little kid caught in the act of doing something particularly naughty.
“You certainly woke me up.”
“I’m sorry.” He blushed more.
“I don’t mind. What were you going to do after you woke me up?” Hermione laughed.
“Why, comfort you, of course.” Harry grinned sheepishly.
“Well, then, my heart is still pounding in my chest because you really startled me there. I could use some comforting.”
Harry’s grin didn’t fade as he made his way to the bed.
*
“You went to see Ron again!” Hermione fumed, turning her back to him and crossing her arms in front of her chest. She knew she was making a fool of herself and that she must look absolutely ridiculous, but it didn’t matter to her anymore. A feeling of rage built up inside her, exponentially growing and her face flushed. The anger needed to come out in one way or another so she let out a violent shriek.
“Please…” Harry was looking at her, nonplussed at the sudden eruption. “I did, but I only talked to him about solving this problem!”
“Solving this problem? You talk about it as if it’s some kind of cryptogram in a puzzle book!”
“Hermione, listen to me.”
Suddenly, the peaceful sound of his voice calmed down the waves of fury gushing through her body. She sighed deeply and turned to face him again.
“Harry, I’ve got to tell you the truth.”
“The truth?” He looked suspicious.
“Yes. Why don’t we sit down?” Hermione suggested with what she thought would be a kind smile.
Harry sat down and waited patiently until she did the same. He was watching her face curiously, one eyebrow raised in a very familiar manner.
“I don’t want you to solve this problem. And that is the truth. I know I’ll get on speaking terms with Ron again somewhere in the future, probably even on friendly terms. We have too much of a history together to step out of each other’s lives completely, but…”
Harry still didn’t speak. She wished he would find a spot to stare at open-mouthed other than her lips.
“I want to be with you, Harry.” The words came out of her mouth in a serene melody.
Suddenly, Harry didn’t have to answer her anymore: his eyes spoke a thousand words. He leaned forward with a mischievous grin, taking a couple of strands of her chocolate-brown hair between his fingers. A ray of sunshine splintered between the silky strings and they turned golden before their eyes.
“I was really hoping you would say that, Hermione. I have to admit I wasn’t trying to solve this problem wholeheartedly. I trying to get Ron to speak to you again, that’s all.”
He gave her quick peck on the cheek before jumping up, startling her. “Come on, you promised me yesterday you’d sit on a broom again if I’d steer it. We’re going to take a ride above London.”
A feeling of joy washed through her as she followed him outside, a tingly feeling in her fingers telling her that she wasn’t only excited about flying through the sky with Harry, but also about the new chapter in her life that had just begun.
~
#2
Title: From an Unexpected Observer
Word Count: 2,960
Rating: PG-13
Life had grown awkward between the Trio. While their public appearances reassured the public that those responsible for the downfall of Voldemort were healthy and happy, the truth was much more difficult. Feelings spawned in the midst of the tumultuous war that they had fought had cooled, leaving broken or straggling relationships. The struggle to realize the better world that they had fought so hard for constantly left them weary. Harry and Ron worked in the newly reorganized Auror department and Hermione was the assistant director for the Sentient Species Liaison Office, one of many reforms that had come to the Ministry. Its destruction had been a boon to some as the breakdown of the previous bureaucracy had allowed for a reconstruction. Not that the new Ministry was perfect-there would always be those who worked with their own agenda and disagreement over the importance of some departments.
It was perhaps this new struggle to make the world better, where one could not duel one’s opponents with a wand, which caused the stress that had fractured the Trio. They had always worked well together, particularly Harry and Hermione. Now, while their goals were in essence the same, the approaches were far more different than ever. The harder they worked, they more they fell apart, and they hid the pain by devoting more time to their new causes.
~~~~
Hermione and Luna were meeting for lunch on Tuesday at the Leaky Cauldron to go over notes for an upcoming conference that Hermione was attending. Luna would be there representing the Quibbler, which was more popular among some circles than the Daily Prophet. Its popularity corresponded with friends of Harry, Hermione, and Ron, who were only too appreciative of the support that Luna had given them.
Hermione was detailing the conference schedule, in particular pointing out the seminars that Luna may want to focus on, when she was suddenly interrupted.
“Friendship is certainly the finest balm for the pangs of disappointed love,” said Luna, her large, grey eyes seeming to stare straight through Hermione, without seeing her at all.
“What-I guess you enjoyed the books I loaned you, then?” Hermione replied, startled at Luna’s response, though she should be used to the younger girl’s insightfulness by now.
“Yes, they were quite delightful and I can see why you enjoyed them. Muggles are quite peculiar in so many things, but in others, we’re a lot alike,” Luna continued to muse.
“Well, of course we are, that’s what this conference is all about,” Hermione, having returned to a comfortable topic, started speaking quickly, “After all, so many people had that misguided view that the Fountain in the old Ministry Atrium propagated-that the wizard was the superior creature. One can’t truly believe such things and then rely upon the advances made by other races, honestly-“
“I’m not talking about the conference, Hermione,” Luna cut in again, her focus completely on Hermione this time, making the latter uncomfortable. “You’re hurting-all three of you. None of you are happy and all of your accomplishments seem empty. You’ve lost your friendship. Emptiness like that attracts the worst sort of little creatures. They feed on it and make it grow, especially as I’m sure that you’ve not been using fennel perfume to keep them away.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Luna,” said Hermione dismissively. “I’m fine. We’re all just fine.”
“When’s the last time the three of you spent any time together?” Luna’s gaze had left Hermione’s face and she now seemed to be doing some mental calculations.
“I…uh…Well, there was…no… Surely sometime in the last-six months.” Hermione winced. How had so much time gone by? Were not these two her best friends? Then why did it hurt so much to be around them?
Luna continued to watch Hermione out of the corner of her eye, noting the change in expression now that she had really started to think about the question. Luna then stood up and patted Hermione on the shoulder.
“My point exactly.” With that, Luna waltzed out of the café before Hermione could say anything else.
Hermione turned back to her cup of pumpkin juice and stared at it, while Luna’s words echoed in her head. Granted, she had known that things were not going well, but she did not think it was so obvious to everyone else. Her mind raced through all of the halting interactions the Trio had had. It had simply become so painful to think about that she had grown accustomed to placing all such thoughts in a box and ignoring them. She let out a quiet gasp as her chest was seized with a sudden constriction. Tears bloomed in the corners of her eyes and she got up and quickly left, leaving a few Galleons on the table to cover their partially eaten lunch.
Instead of rushing back to the office, as she normally would have done, Hermione cast a quick Glamour Charm and wandered down into Diagon Alley. She saw evidence the war, but at the same time, she saw people moving on with their lives and that some things really had changed. Madame Malkin’s no longer sold just robes, but was expanding into Muggle clothes, especially for the younger witches and wizards just out of Hogwarts. A witch was walking out of Flourish and Blott’s and there was a Muggle history text in her pile of books. There was a house-elf and a wizard sitting at Florean Fortescue’s and the elf was in a chair of his own, not waiting on the wizard nor hiding. Though the elf looked quite uncomfortable and some of the people passing were scowling in their direction.
All of these changes were tremendous, but what struck Hermione the most, as she meandered slowly down the Alley, was the overall feeling of the place. It was full of hope and determination not to make the same mistakes as caused Voldemort to be able to take power. Seeing a few people she knew from Hogwarts, their casual banter touched her anew. In working so hard to make a better world, she had been unable to enjoy the benefits of it. Her heart ached with all that she had lost and she wondered if perhaps she too should make a change for something better.
Hermione realized that it was time to focus on making her life better, instead of worrying more about everyone else’s.
~~~~~~~~
Twin letters arrived in two separate offices by interdepartmental memo a little later that afternoon.
We need to fix this mess between us, before we’re all so far gone that there is no coming back. We were always better when we were working together.
My flat, Friday, 8 p.m. No excuses will be tolerated. If you do not show, I will hunt you down and drag your arse there.
Love,
Hermione
Ron took one look at the note and started cursing, then picked up a quill.
What the bloody hell are you up to? You said we were over a long time ago. Why are you bringing this stuff up now?
Ron
Ron, stop being a prat. This isn’t about you and I. This is about the three of us-our friendship.
You can bring the Firewhisky. See you Friday at 8.
Hermione
Harry stared at the note. His first reaction was to write back and say that there was no way he was going to be there. After all, he really did have plans already…or at least work to do. Plus, Hermione’s tone pissed him off a little. What right did she have to boss him around as if they were still school kids? Then, a little voice in his head, which still sounded suspiciously like Hermione, reminded him how much he owed her. The voice reminded him how much he had enjoyed being with her and the history that they shared. He took up a pen and paper-he thought quills were really quite ridiculous for his work-and stared at the blank sheet, trying to come up with something to say. In the end, he simply wrote,
Sure.
~~~~~~~~
Friday evening came along and Hermione had cleaned her flat twelve times, chosen and then rejected an outfit eight times, picked out five different options for food, rearranged the furniture three times, and by seven p.m., was wondering what had possessed her to propose such an idea in the first place.
“I shouldn’t be going this crazy,” she muttered to herself, “It’s just Harry and Ron.” With her determination renewed, she chose a pair of jeans (that flattered her bum quite nicely, not that she was thinking of such things) and a simple, red shirt. Then, she started rehearsing what she wanted to say, while she checked on the food in the kitchen.
Ron, having been fully convinced that showing up at Hermione’s would be the worst way to start out the weekend, nevertheless found himself standing in his room on Friday at seven-thirty, trying to find a clean shirt to wear. After finding one that was not too wrinkled and did not smell too bad, he Apparated off to buy some Firewhisky.
It was seven forty-five and Harry was sitting in his living room, wearing a blue shirt and black jeans, as he had been for the past hour. Over the past few days, his mind had gone over and over the note that Hermione had sent. Why, after all this time, had she contacted them? He rather assumed “them” as he had decided early on that the note could not mean just him. Sometimes, the note made him smile, as the bossiness was so typically her. Other times, thinking of her just brought back the pain of everything they had been through and their slow estrangement. It had been easier just to push the pain away, to just do what was expected of him. He had his routine down, but now she was trying to shake things up. When had things become so complicated? Who could have guessed that a girl-with buckteeth and bushy hair, looking for a toad-could have affected his life so utterly?
Glancing at his watch, Harry stood and then flicked his wand, vanishing without a sound.
Appearing in an alleyway near Hermione’s building, Harry slowly walked out, having made sure that he was not seen. Noticing Ron up ahead, Harry hurried to catch up with him, figuring that he should make an effort as Hermione had already done so in calling the three of them together. Ron heard Harry approach and turned around just before Harry reached him.
“Hey, Ron,” said Harry, extending a hand.
Ron shifted the bag he was carrying to his other arm and grasped Harry’s hand firmly. “Hey. It’s been awhile, Harry.”
“Yeah…” Not sure what else to say, Harry shook Ron’s hand and then two men started moving off again. “So, did you get the same note I did?”
“Probably. Some stuff about dragging my arse to her place if I didn’t show up,” said Ron, though he cracked a smile at Harry.
“Well, she always was the bossy one, and we normally needed it too.”
“Yeah, mental, that one,” Ron joked and both men looked at each other and laughed.
“Remember S.P.E.W.?” commented Harry, glad to find a comfortable topic.
“How I could forget? She went on and on about it. Who knew she’d actually figure a way to make it work?” They had reached Hermione’s building and Ron grabbed the door so they both could head inside.
“Well, that’s our Hermione. She’d find a way with pure stubbornness. Never gave up on us, and we were surely hopeless at times.” Harry’s smile faltered a bit as his mind wandered to their current estrangement. “I’m glad she didn’t ever give up.”
Ron did not look at Harry, but continued down the hallway to Hermione’s door. “Me too.”
Harry hurried to catch up to Ron and then knocked on the door.
Hermione opened the door quickly, almost as if she had been standing near the door waiting. She grinned at seeing them there; though, Harry thought her expression changed quickly while Ron was not looking, only to go back to grinning again.
“Come in! Come sit down in the living room. I’ll be right back.” With that, she gestured towards the living room and rushed off to the kitchen, from where fantastic smells were coming.
Harry and Ron exchanged a glance and headed in to sit down. Ron snagged the chair and Harry took one end of the couch. Then Ron opened up the bag he was carrying and retrieved a large bottle of Firewhisky.
“Hermione told me to,” Ron responded to Harry’s questioning glance.
Hermione herself entered at that moment and set down a platter on the coffee table. Before she could sit down on the couch with Harry, Ron had already snatched a handful.
Rolling his eyes, Harry turned to Hermione, “So…what prompted all of this? I mean-I thought you were fine, that we were all fine.”
“Don’t we deserve better than just ‘fine’? When’s the last time we just hung out together? Isn’t it about time that we face our demons, instead of hiding from them and each other?” Hermione was perched on the edge of her seat, ready to say more, but Ron held up a hand.
“What d’ya want, Hermione? Things can’t be the way they used to be.” Ron sank back into his chair, and then grabbed the bottle from the floor by his feet, “Have any glasses?”
“Yes, they’re in the kitchen. I’ll get them,” Hermione jumped up, but Harry grabbed her arm.
“No, let me,” Harry gently pulled her back to her seat, “I’m sure that I can find them.” Harry got up and left Ron and Hermione alone.
“I’m sorry that things ended the way they did, Ron.” Hermione turned back to him, her hand running over her arm where Harry had touched it.
“You don’t need to bring this up, Hermione.”
“Yes, I do. Not talking about things is part of what put us in this mess in the first place.”
“It’s ok, Hermione. Sure, I was upset about it at the time-ok, so pissed off might be a better way to put it-but I got over it. It was only a passing thing.”
“Ron…” Hermione jumped up and hugged him, to which he just patted her back, sitting back in her seat upon hearing Harry come back in the room.
“Found ‘em,” said Harry, glancing back and forth between Hermione and Ron. He set the glasses on the table and grabbed some food, more to keep himself busy than anything else.
After accepting the glass that Ron handed her and sipping, Hermione took a deep breath and began what she had planned to say, “I’m not ignoring that things have become quite difficult between the three of us,” Ron snorted and Hermione gave him a brief glare before continuing, “and I’m not saying that we can fix things overnight. But, I think we have to try. The three of us have a lot of history together. We’ve done some amazing things, but it’s almost always been together.” Harry looked he wanted to interrupt, but Hermione shook her head. “No, let me finish this. Luna said something to me the other day, and it made me realize that we’ll never be happy unless we fix this friendship of ours. I’m not saying that it will be easy. But, Dumbledore warned us about choosing the easy path.” She cracked a sad smile, remembering the man who had influenced their lives immensely.
“Well, when you put it like that, Hermione,” Harry said into the silence that had followed her words. “After all, it can’t be harder than taking out a troll.”
“Or Fluffy,” Ron chimed in.
“Or an Acromantula,” Hermione added, with a sly glance at Ron.
He shivered, and they all laughed. “Hey, do you remember-“
The conversation continued late into the night, helped along by the food and liberal amounts of Firewhisky. They stayed on safe topics and happier times, as they were too relieved in actually talking again to bring up their most recent demons.
Finally, Ron had passed out on the chair and Harry and Hermione were still awake, stretched out on the couch and carefully not touching.
“We’ve had a lot of adventures, haven’t we, Harry?” whispered Hermione, her voice slurred as a result of the alcohol and tiredness.
“Yeah. I never would have been able to do any of it without you, Hermione,” Harry responded. The peaceful quiet was only punctuated with Ron’s snoring.
“Everything would have been lost without you. I would have been lost without you. You’re a great wizard, Harry.” Hermione scooted closer to him.
Harry leaned towards Hermione, “Not great enough, apparently, or I wouldn’t have been such a prat and noticed you sooner. You really are far more than books and cleverness, Hermione, and I’ve let you down again.”
“We were both hurting; we’re still hurting.” Hermione put her forehead next to his. “It’s time to try to make things right. Friends?’
“Best friends,” Harry responded, taking her hand in his.
They sat like that for a moment, both uncertain, both not wanting to break the moment.
Hermione took a deep breath and the moment passed. She laid her head down on his shoulder. “I’ve missed you, Harry,” she breathed.
“I’ve missed you too. What did Luna say, by the way?” asked Harry, but he looked down to see that Hermione had fallen asleep. He wrapped one arm around Hermione and resolved that he would have to thank Luna, for whatever it was that she had said.
~
#3
Title: How They Were
Word Count: 2,022
Rating: PG
Life really had been quite pleasant since the end of the war. Hermione and Ron were married, and Harry and Ginny shortly afterwards.
Actually, life didn’t seem much different than all the summers they had spent together at the Burrow. The four of them still spent most of their free time together-having dinner, going to plays and musicals and the Muggle cinema. They would laugh about old times and talk about what their futures were going to be like.
They didn’t talk much about the war, though: Harry didn’t like to discuss it, and if ever it were brought up, he would find an excuse to leave the room. Later that night as the two of them lie awake in bed, Ginny would ask him why, why wouldn’t he talk about it? He would mutter something inaudible and roll over. Once Ginny thought she made out the phrase never want to know. She couldn’t make any sense of this, but she knew she shouldn’t enquire further. She soon learned not to enquire at all.
When they were in public, people would look at them with gentle expressions. Harry Potter, his wife, and their two best friends. The teenagers who had saved the Wizarding World.
Occasionally someone would approach them, asking for an autograph, or for their child to have a picture taken with them. Couples who had married around the time of the first war would smile at them, remembering how the war had brought them together, how scared they had been, and how they had needed that one person to be there with them all the time.
Of course, they would think, their story is the same as ours.
Others would be smiling at the déjà vu they encountered when seeing Harry and Ginny together looking so much like James and Lily had twenty years earlier.
They were happy like that. Perfectly, wonderfully, blissfully happy.
***
The doorbell rang. Hermione opened her eyes to see 2:46 staring back at her in bright red. Normally she would have asked Ron to answer it, and he would have grudgingly obliged, but work had called him out of town for the weekend. She pulled on a bathrobe, slid her feet into slippers, and slowly, groggily, made her way down the stairs.
She opened the door to find Harry standing there. She could tell he was just about as awake as she was, and his wrinkled jeans and t-shirt told her he had dressed in a hurry. Instinctively, she put a finger over her lips as an indication for him to speak softly since baby Rose was asleep.
He just stood there, hands in his pockets and mouth half open like there was something he wanted to say, but he didn’t know how to say it.
“Is something wrong?” she asked.
“I…I…I…I’m sorry. I really shouldn’t have come. Not now, at least.”
And then he turned around and disapparated.
Hermione woke up the next morning wondering if it had all been a dream.
***
After they started having children, it was more like four parents raising five kids together than two separate families. True, they lived in separate houses, but there was always at least one Potter at the Weasley house and at least one Weasley at the Potter house.
The couples held as much authority over their nieces and nephews as they did their own children, and the children respected their aunt an uncle as much as they did their parents.
When they were in public, passersby often couldn’t tell which of the five were siblings, and which were cousins.
They didn’t have as much time for each other. Life became more about cleaning up messes and knowing who was where when and less about double dates and Quidditch matches. Marriage became more about parenting and less about romance.
Hermione and Ron had gotten into the longest argument over what to name their son. It had been agreed that Hermione would name the girls, and Ron would name the boys. Hermione hated the name Hugo. Who in the world names their kid Hugo? Hugh would have even been more acceptable! Hugo is for old, fat men.
Ron had replied that even old, fat men are children at one point. Hermione had finally given in and had come to the conclusion that Harry (who had named his second son Albus Severus) and Ron were just of a cruel kind of human who liked inflicting torture upon small children by giving them awful names.
***
The doorbell rang. Two-year-old Lily loved her Aunt Hermione, so Harry scooped her off the floor and carried her on his shoulders as he went to answer the door. Hermione stood on the doorstep with Rose and Hugo each holding one of her hands.
“Here are the kids! I hope they have fun!”
Lily reached her arms out for Hermione. Harry bent his knees to lean down so Hermione could lift her off his shoulders. “How is my favorite niece in the whole wide world?” Hermione asked before covering Lily’s face with kisses. The little girl giggled.
Harry smiled and looked down at Rose and Hugo. “James and Albus are in the playroom. Why don’t you join them?” The two toddlers let go of their mother’s hands and headed to the playroom. Lily squirmed until Hermione put her down and followed running just as fast as she could to catch up. Harry looked back up at Hermione. “Do you want to stay for a few minutes? Have a cup of tea?”
“Sure.”
Hermione followed Harry to the kitchen, where he set a kettle on the stove to boil. She sat at the small table while he leaned against the counter. “I’ve been thinking a lot,” he finally said, “about the war and the kids.”
“Mmhmm?”
“I know you, Ron, Ginny, and I haven’t really discussed it, and I know that’s mostly my fault, but when should we tell them?”
He paused, looking at her for the answer.
When she didn’t respond, he continued on, “How should we tell them? I don’t want them to develop the mentality that their daddy-or uncle in Rose and Hugo’s case-is a huge hero and they’re better than everyone because of it.”
“I know, Harry.” Hermione said softly.
“They’re going to find out eventually, though…when they get to Hogwarts if not before. It’s not as common as it was at first, but I do still get stares when I go out.”
Harry paused. Hermione could tell he had more to say, so she let the silence hang.
Finally he said with quick, frustrated words, “I’m not that great, you know. Really, it was nothing. It was something that had to be done, and I was the one who had to do it. It wasn’t even a proper choice.”
Hermione walked over to him and placed her hand on his. “I know, Harry. Believe me, I remember.” There was no annoyance in her voice, only gentle love and concern. “Have you talked to Ginny about this?”
Harry hesitated before shaking his head. “I…can’t. I don’t know why, but I can’t ever talk about the war around her. It doesn’t feel right. She wasn’t there with us for most of it. She helped when it came to the action, but she never helped with the process. She never helped with what really mattered.”
“She’s your wife, Harry,” Hermione said, giving his hand a squeeze. “She deserves to know.”
“I tried. Hell, I tried when we were dating. And every time I tried, she would pay attention at first, but then quickly lose interest. I tried to tell her I’m not a hero, and she changed the subject. She wants me to be the hero. She wants to be married to The Boy Who Saved the World not to The Boy Who Kept Getting Lucky.”
The tea kettle sounded, and Harry got out the teacups and poured the tea. He took a sip of his before continuing. “She used to bring it up all the time. She would bring it up, and I would try to explain, and she would change the subject. I finally stopped trying to answer, and she finally stopped asking.”
Hermione set down her teacup. “You should try again. Really, Harry, that was years ago. You talk to me about it all the time. It’s not fair to her.”
Harry sighed and placed his teacup next to Hermione’s. He placed a hand on the side of her face.
They both froze for a second thinking about how they really shouldn’t be standing this close to each other.
Then they realized that they didn’t really care.
“It’s different with you,” Harry said. “You’ve known all along that it was all luck.”
“I’m really sorry she feels that way.” Hermione whispered. And then her lips were on his.
Harry pulled her into the kiss and wondered why it had taken them so long to realize this is how it should have been to begin with-the two of them together. She had always been the one by his side. She had always been the one helping him. Even when Ron left during those long, useless days searching for the horcruxes in the forest, Hermione had stayed.
He had always considered the day in the graveyard to be one of the best days of his life, and now he knew that it wasn’t just because he had finally been able to see his parents’ graves and come to peace with that part of his life. It was also because it was something they had shared. Together.
They forgot how they should have been and remembered how they were when they heard a crash in the playroom followed by Rose screaming, “James knocked down my castle!”
***
They never discussed the kiss after that. They both figured they should put it out of their minds. They couldn’t start a love affair. The press had stopped stalking Harry five years before, and they didn’t need a reason for them to start following him again. Even if it hadn’t been a matter of the press, they couldn’t hurt the children that way.
***
The doorbell rang. As Hermione opened the door, the chill of October swept in. Harry stood there wearing a heavy jacket and holding two thermoses. “Do you want to go for a walk? I have hot chocolate.”
Hermione smiled. “Sure, let me put on a coat and shoes.”
“It’s weird, you know, not having them around,” Harry said as they walked through the park.”
Hermione smiled. “I know what you mean. I had begun to wonder if this house would ever be quiet again. When they are here, you sometimes wish they were gone, but when they are gone, you always wish they were here.”
“And you worry about them,” Harry said before taking a sip from his thermos. “I always thought that was just something the mothers did, but I think about the five of them all the time. I want to write them letters and send them packages everyday, but I figure you and Ginny do enough of that to provide them with a lifetime of embarrassment.”
“You’re probably right,” Hermione laughed. “Speaking of, I have a couple of care packages Ginny and I prepared last night for Lily and Hugo. Remind me to send them when we get back to my house.”
Suddenly a hard wind blew and Hermione shivered. Harry put his arm around her. “Do you want to go back now?”
Hermione leaned into him. “No, really, I’m fine. I don’t mind the cold much.”
They walked in silence for a few minutes enjoying the bright yellows and oranges of autumn.
“Hermione?”
“Yes?”
“I love you, you know.”
“Yes. I know.”
“And you know I know you love me?”
“Yes. I know that, too. And you know why it’s too late for it to be that way, right? Why it’s been too late for twenty years now?”
“Yes. I know.”
~
Stories #4 and #5 here.