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A weary sigh escaped Hermione Granger’s lips as she stared out over the ballroom where everyone was celebrating; she knew she should be out there with them, laughing and dancing and just… generally being happy except for the fact that the two most important people in her life weren’t here. One of them probably wouldn’t show up at all, things between them were too raw- too painful for that kind of meet up just yet.
After all, it had only been 24 hours since she’d blown up her life.
The bushy-haired witch sipped at the fire whiskey in her hand and let her gaze fall to her hand, wondering if it would look any better with the ring she had rejected, or if she was just punishing herself for finally choosing something she wanted for once; they had all made sacrifices during the war, and she was just so… so tired.
Being the Girl who lived was a miserable thing sometimes.
-----
“Where’s that dress? The Periwinkle one that looks like my Yule Ball dress.” Hermione called as she went through the closet she shared with Ron and sighed in irritation- her boyfriend had made such a mess of the bloody closet that it was impossible to find anything, “The one I said I needed for tomorrow for the ball? The one Kingsley wants me to be at?” She was getting worse at hiding her frustrations. She loved Ron, she did, but she was beginning to think that she didn’t love him like that.
“It’s in the closet, Mione, honestly, you just have to look!”
She found it, of course, and made sure that it was ready for the ministry ball. Honestly, the whole idea was in bad taste. This wasn’t how they should be remembering the ones who had died, but the war was over, and no one wanted to listen to their war heroes. An old familiar bitterness rose in her throat, and she had to swallow it back as Ron’s hand on her shoulder snapped Hermione back to reality.
“Are you with us?” He sounded annoyed, which in turn made Hermione’s defenses kick in. “I asked if you had a second.”
The urge to tell him to sod off was almost overwhelming. Why had they even gotten together? All they did was fight- was that what she wanted for the rest of her life? She had been fighting her entire life… Maybe that’s what drew her to Ron?
“Of course, Ron.”
If only she had known.
------
Waiving the bartender down, Hermione ordered another drink, again glancing down at her fingers; if only she had said yes, then there would be a ring on her finger, and she would be one step closer to being a Weasley, except the idea had made her feel lightheaded, and she’d yelled no faster than her brain could process what was happening.
She was a terrible person.
Scanning the crowd, a small sign of relief washed over her at the sight of Luna. The blonde was a good friend, even though half the time Hermione had no idea what she was saying.
“Hello, Hermione.” The blonde said dreamily, “You look lighter.”
“Thanks- I think?” Add that to the pile of things that Hermione, admittedly, didn’t really understand about her friend- though truthfully, she didn’t mind; it was nice to see a friendly face after the disaster of her failed proposal. The last she had seen of one of her oldest friends was the redhead storming off to go back to the burrow.
Maybe it should have hurt more.
“Have you heard from him?”
It would be easy, the young witch thought darkly, to play dumb- to pretend she didn’t know exactly who Luna was talking about – but Hermione is also aware she gave herself away from how tense she’s become, the way her hand grips the glass a little too tightly. Maybe this is her own personal hell, maybe this is the future she’s ensured for herself by letting so many people sacrifice themselves for her, and for what?
A muggleborn who had been forced into a prophecy she wanted no part of?
“I mean, Harry.” The former Ravenclaw clarified, maybe to break the silence between them or maybe because she saw Hermione was struggling- Luna had always seen more than anyone gave her credit for.
“I know who you mean, Luna.”
“I thought so.”
Harry Potter was her other best friend, the son of heroes from the first war who had lost his parents to Voldemort the same way she had- sometimes it felt like Harry was the only one who truly had understood he,r as his godfather had raised him in the Muggle world, ignorant of magic until it was time to go to Hogwarts.
Sometimes she wished she’d asked him to abandon the wizarding world with her- and sometimes she wished that he didn’t understand her so well. “I haven’t.” Hermione finally said, “I haven’t heard from him since he left.” She wanted to be angry, to curse her best friend for leaving her to deal with all of this alone, but overwhelming sadness was the best she could muster.
She missed him.
“He’ll come back. He’s always known when you needed him. Why should now be any different?”
Hermione opened her mouth to ask how the blonde could know that, but snapped her jaw shut and exhaled. “He has no idea anything's wrong.” The former Gryffindor knew better than to pretend she was okay with Lun; she had learned that a long time ago. “I’ll be okay.” Eventually, which was the truth- logically, she knew that was the truth.
She was highly logical when she wasn’t beating herself up.
“I’m sure you will be.” The other woman patted Hermione on the arm gently, “I’m going to go find Ginny and make sure she’s not getting into trouble without me. Just… keep an eye open. You two have always known when the other was in danger.” Luna hummed before making her way back into the crowd and disappearing while Hermione’s thoughts ran wild again, memories of fourth year washing over her.
-----
“If you were going to put your name in the Goblet of Fire, the least you could have done is let me know! But I guess the chosen one is too good for Ron bloody Weasley now, isn’t she?” The redhead demanded angrily in their common room. “Regular old Ron Weasley isn’t good enough for Hermione Granger; the girl who lived and her best friend Harry Potter, son of the famous war heroes. What, did you two plot this together??”
“I- I didn’t! Why would I want this? I don’t want eternal glory, I don’t want this stupid bloody tournament!” Her name had come out of the goblet last night, and truthfully, Hermione had been waiting (and dreading) this confrontation all day… and of course, he waited for Harry to leave the room. Bloody perfect, she had been stressed about this all day, and this wasn’t helping.
Why did he have to be so… so Ron? To her annoyance, Hermione could feel her eyes burning, and she knew she had to get out of there. “Think what you would like, Ronald.” Hermione hissed, and for a second, she swore the lightning bolt-shaped scar on her forehead was burning, intensifying her anger, “I’ll be fighting for my life in the tournament you so desperately want to be in!” She was practically shouting now, her breath catching in her throat at the realization that Ron had gotten under her skin, and stormed off.
There was an abandoned classroom on the third floor that she had hidden in a couple of times- mostly in first year when everything had been overwhelming (Despite Harry and Ron’s attempts to make everything easier for her)- but she haadn’t been here in so long, honestly she couldn’t even remember the last time she had been here, but when the door cracked open and Harry’s familiar green eyes peeked through she was equal parts thrilled and disappointed.
Part of her had hoped Ron would be the one to track her down.
“I didn’t put my name in.”
“I kn-”
“I didn’t put my bloody name in!” There was a desperation in her voice; Hermione couldn’t hear him over the pounding of her heart in her chest. “Ron’s a gi-” The fourth year Gryffindor didn’t have time to finish her sentence as Harry engulfed her with his arms, and her face buried itself into her chest as all the worry and anxiety of the last couple of days came out in the form of violent sobs.
“I’m here.” Was all Harry could manage as he held her.
-----
Hermione’s attention was snapped back to the present by the feeling of a hand on hers, stopping the fire whiskey in her hand from moving to her mouth- a tight smile on his lips that contradicted the warmth in those green eyes; eyes she hadn’t realized she’d missed so much until this very moment.
“You’re here.” Was the only thing that came to mind.
“I’m here.” Harry echoed, and for a moment she wondered if he remembered saying that in fourth year.
“H-”
“Ron flooed. I figured he would when it was time for me to come back.”
Oh. “Is he mad?” Hermione asked, hating how small her voice sounded, but Ron was still one of her best friends (she hoped).
“He’s hurt, but he saw the writing on the wall. It’s why he proposed.” Harry explained, and Hermione knew him well enough to hear the anger simmering underneath his calm exterior. “Just give him time.”
Time. She could do that. “I missed you.” That seemed like a good segue, and it was true- shouldn’t she be more honest with him?
“You looked like you were a million miles away.”
“I was thinking.”
“About what?”
It was then that they realized how close they were standing- she was practically leaning into him now, but was that her fault? Harry emitted warmth, and safety, and a bunch of other things that she hadn’t realized she’d been missing until just now… Why hadn’t she asked him to stay? The last six months had been missing something, and she hadn’t put it together until just now. “Fourth year,” she finally said softly.
“Ah.”
Hermione’s brow furrowed; for some reason, that one-word response felt loaded. Did he think about it, too? She wouldn’t pretend to be an expert on emotions, for instance, right now, the war heroine had no idea how to explain the rolling sensation in her stomach or why her heart was trying to free itself from her rib cage. “What are you doing here?” she finally asked before realizing she’d already asked that… more or less.
“I told you. Ron flooed me. I knew- I figured you might need someone,ne and I hoped that someone might be me.”
Oh.
The admission caught her off guard. What exactly was she supposed to do with that? “I-”
Harry, as he often did when she was having an emotional crisis, took the lead and just smiled. “Dance with me?”
All she could do was nod.
-----
The Yule Ball was going to be a complete disaster; she hadn’t really expected anyone to think about asking her, since she still heard half the school muttering about how her being in this stupid tournament was a ploy by her to get attention, since she was a muggleborn- no matter what she had apparently done as an infant. Hermione had told herself the whispers would eventually stop bothering her- but she was fifteen now, a fourth-year witch, and every whisper still felt like the first one.
She’d said yes a little too quickly when a boy from Durmstrang had asked her. His name was Anton, and he seemed interested enough in her. Truthfully, he wasn’t her type, but she had been so caught off guard by someone asking that she said yes (She was obligated to go, even though they didn’t want to- and neither Ron nor Harry had made a move to ask her).
Ron, of course, had handled it like a mature adult.
“He’s the enemy!” The redhead had protested later when he’d finally gotten up the nerve to ask her (A last resort, she was pretty sure).
“He hasn’t asked one thing about the tournament! Honestly, he’s nice, and he didn’t take four and a half years to realize I’m a girl!”
Ron opened his mouth to shoot back- this is how they communicated after all, they would fight and then not speak for a few days, and then make up… she had almost convinced herself that the fighting gave her a thrill.
“Leave it, Ron.” Harry finally spoke up, “She’s free to take whoever she wants.” Although he didn’t look happy about it either, and for some reason, that made her feel more ashamed.
Later, when the Yule Ball was beginning to wind down, and Ron had driven her date off, it was Harry who asked her to dance with him.
It had been (almost) perfect.
-----
“Sirius says hello, by the way,” Harry murmured as they swayed to the music- it was a slower song, but that was fine- Hermione was in no mood to flail about to some rock song (When had she gotten so old?). “He kept telling me it was time to come back. I think he still frets after we disappeared back then.”
“He should hate me. I dragged you both-”
“Stop it. You didn’t drag anyone anywhere. I told you when you were at Hogwarts that I’d go with you. That didn’t just mean for the forest to die.”
Hermione cursed the way that made her heart beat harder against her ribcage. Why did everything have to be so complicated? She had chosen in her sixth year; she had chosen Ron because he needed her, and well, quite frankly, she could fix him.
But maybe that isn’t what she needed.
“Why do you keep doing that?” She asked softly, almost hesitantly- and her voice sounded so small that she despised it.
“What do you mean?”
“Forgiving me. Letting me keep crawling back to you.”
“You haven’t done anything wrong.”
“You left because of me. Didn’t you?” Hermione had suspected at the time, but she hadn’t been brave enough to put the words out there. “
“I left for that healer internship,” Harry said firmly.
“And…?” Hermione pressed as a sudden, and familiar, need to know something clawed its way up from her chest to her brain.
“And I knew it was time for me to move on. Not leave permanently, just… create some space. Nothing would stop me from being there for you.”
“I- I thought I needed to be with Ron because he needed me.” Half of the young witch was convinced she needed to shut up, the other half was determined to get this out- that Harry deserved to know. “That I could fix him and that would make for a good relationship, but I never considered what I needed and when he proposed I- well, the thought of that being the rest of my life scared me.”
“Maybe you should explain that to Ron,” Harry suggested gently.
“I will…. Tomorrow.” Hermione said, “I need to make sure he understands that it’s over. I want to be friends still, but I-”
“I get it.”
“Can I-” Hermione swallowed back her anxieties, “Can I make a selfish request?”
“Always with the big words.” Harry teased, his one hand reaching up and brushing against the lightning bolt scar on her forehead- there was something… intimate about it. “I’ve never been able to tell you no. Which might be Sirius’s fault, he told me to never refuse someone I love.”
There it was. Love. The idea made her entire body shiver with anticipation of finally allowing herself to be loved by him.
“Wait for me? I don’t want to jump into something right away,y but I… want this.”
“Is that all?” Harry asked in amusement, “What about our relationship so far indicates that I wouldn’t wait?”
Hermione beamed and, for the first time that night, truly relaxed. Her head rested against Harry’s chest, and it was in that moment that she felt like everything would truly be alright.
----
A day off when you were a medical intern was a rarity, and so Harry was determined to enjoy it. He had coffee brewing in the kitchen and was currently scanning a letter from Sirius as they talked about current events, Harry’s internship, and the weird holding pattern that he was in with Hermione. His fingers brushed over the scar on his arm- a cursed scar that he had been told would never go away, but he was fine with that- he had bought them enough time to get out of Malfoy Manor.
It had been worth the price.
The word Traitor stared at him, angry and red, and for a moment he wanted to throw something- to curse Bellatrix for carving the word into him or the healers for being unable to heal it…. But what good would that do? So instead his thoughts turned towards Hermione, and for a moment he wondered if she had changed her mind..
It had been six months since the ministry ball where he’d shown up to comfort her. Harry had to go back to America- his internship couldn’t be put off, but they had written every single day. She had told him about making peace with Ron, that Ron was now seeing Padma Patil and seemed to be genuinely happy.
That she was healing slowly.
Then, about two days ago, the letters had stopped. Hermione had mentioned that she was thinking of going overseas- getting away for a while. That she was tired of being the girl who lived, a war heroine who didn’t feel very heroic. Maybe she had left, had gone somewhere owls couldn’t reach. He immediately cut that train of thought off, not letting his self-doubts get in the way of his faith in her- no matter how silly it might seem to others.
They would figure it out- they always did.
It was after lunch when someone knocked on Harry’s door, which was odd because he wasn’t expecting any company. He hadn’t really made friends here since he knew his time would be limited. Just in case it was a neighbor or someone else from the apartment complex, he currently lived with Harr,y made sure to tuck his wand up his sleeve where it could easily still fall into his hand if it was an attacker- call him paranoid, but they’d just fought a war.
The face on the other side of the door was Hermione Granger, and even though it had only been six months since he had seen her, the way he had missed her seemed to hit all at once. “Hi,” she said finally with a hesitant smile. “I uh, I took the Muggle way here. That’s why I didn’t write and-”
“It’s okay.” Harry said, finally, “Does this mean…?” He trailed off, ushering her inside the house.
Hermione nodded, reaching out shyly.
Their fingers intertwined, and while he was sure there were plenty of things to say, they could be handled later. Their lips met, years of longing and mistakes melting away into the kiss.
In that moment, nothing else mattered.