Bewitched, Bothered and Bewildered

Chapter 18 With All Your Faults...

Ginny sat at her kitchen table watching her best friend cry.

The tiny kitchen table was littered with an unopened bag of pastries, two cold cups of coffee and a Daily Prophet, which was folded open to reveal the Letters to the Editor page. Hermione was leaning across what little space was available, her head buried in her crossed arms. Ginny slid her chair along the table and draped her arm across Hermione's trembling shoulders.

She had been pleasantly surprised when Hermione showed up on her doorstep with a fresh bag of pastries and two steaming cups of coffee. It had been a friendly ritual that, much to Ginny's dismay, died after Christmas. She didn't fault Hermione for wanting to spend all of her extra time with Harry. She remembered what the beginning stages of love were like. As she sat watching Hermione's sobs diminish, she remembered, all too well, the good and bad aspects of new love.

Sometimes, you just need a good cry.

She sat in patient silence rubbing small, comforting circles on Hermione's back. Ginny understood that right now Hermione only wanted to be comforted. She wanted to release her emotions in a safe haven with someone by her side that wouldn't pass judgment or try to solve her problems. They would talk when Hermione was ready.

Nothing about what Hermione told Ginny had come as a surprise. Granted, she hadn't suspected the full measure of Harry's unrequited love for Hermione, but the revelation was not astonishing when you considered Harry's actions since his return. And as far as Harry being impetuous, that was old news.

Hermione sniffed and sat up, her eyes red and puffy from crying. Ginny handed her a serviette and rose to walk to the sink. She returned with a cool, damp tea towel. "Here. Put this on your eyes. It'll help."

Hermione did as instructed and buried her face in the damp towel, pressing her fingers into her eyes. Ginny returned to her seat, draping her arm across Hermione's shoulders once again.

"Thank you," came Hermione's muffled voice through the towel.

"You're welcome."

Hermione removed the towel and looked at Ginny. "Not for the towel."

"I know," she replied simply, squeezing her friend's shoulder. "Are you ready to talk about it?"

Hermione took a shuddering breath and nodded her head.

"Is this the end of your relationship?"

Hermione gasped and stared at Ginny with wide eyes. "That seems like an odd first question."

"Not really, if you think about it. Is what Harry did something you can't forgive him for? You have to answer that question before you can begin to work through your differences."

Hermione looked down at the table. "I don't know."

Ginny nodded her head. "Right. What bothers you the most? The letter he wrote?" she asked, gesturing at the Daily Prophet.

"No, not the letter. To be honest, he did a rather good job with the letter. It's the fact that he didn't talk to me about it."

"Which brought up your hidden anger about him leaving without talking to you five years ago."

Hermione opened her mouth to, Ginny was sure, deny any hidden anger. Before she could get a word out, Ginny interjected. "Hermione, this is me. Don't try to deny it."

Hermione tapped her fingers on the table nervously. "All right."

She admitted that easier than I expected.

"Now that you know why he left, can you forgive him for leaving?"

"I understand why he left, yes."

Ginny shook her head. "Understanding is fine, but if you can't forgive him for leaving, then you will never have the relationship you want."

"Ginny, he has lied to me for seven years!"

"How did he lie to you?"

"How did he...? Everything he's done has been based on a lie!"

"What lie?"

"What do you mean, 'what lie'? Everything! It's all a lie!"

"What did he say to you that was a lie?"

"God, you sound like Harry!" Hermione said angrily. "Did he come up to me and say, 'Hermione, I don't love you'? No, he never did that. But, Ginny! He says he's been in love with me this whole time! Since our sixth year! He got Ron and me together, he left after Ron's funeral without telling me, and he never wrote -- all to push me away. To get over me, he said. And he's just telling me this now. I thought we were coming to this relationship from the same place - as best friends who were exploring something new. This whole time, Ginny! His actions were all deceitful."

"And everything he did was intended to keep you from getting hurt," Ginny said patiently.

"Right. That worked out terribly well, didn't it?" Hermione said sarcastically.

"I would have never pegged you as one to wallow in a pity party, Hermione," Ginny said with a touch of impatience in her voice.

Hermione shot her a disgusted look and rose from her chair, walking to stand by the sink. She looked out the window with her back to Ginny.

"Harry has handled this all wrong, I agree with you on that," Ginny said. "But let's put this in perspective, here. Everything he did, he did to protect you."

Hermione rounded on Ginny. "I don't need his protection!"

"Drop the independent routine for just a minute, Hermione!" Ginny said, her voice rising in frustration. "Having someone that cares enough about you that they want to protect you is not a weakness! I want to protect Neville; he wants to protect me! Doesn't part of you want to protect Harry? It is natural in a relationship to protect the person you love. Harry did what he did because he loves you. There was no malicious intent in his actions. He wasn't trying to hurt you. HE was the one hurt by what he did."

"How do you come to that conclusion?" Hermione scoffed.

"Imagine feeling what you do for Harry and having to keep it inside, telling no one, not even your best friends about it. Then imagine pushing the man you love into your best friend's arms because you think he is in love with her. Then, picture what it would be like having to watch them together for a year."

Hermione turned her back to Ginny again.

"Everyone knew you fancied Ron. What was Harry supposed to do? Get you to fall in love with him and ruin his friendship with Ron in the process so Voldemort could kill him? Stop being obstinate, Hermione! There was nothing selfish in what Harry did."

Hermione sighed deeply. "But why couldn't he talk to me before he left? Even just to say 'I'm going away for a while; I'll be back.' Anything at all would have been better than what he did."

"I imagine he would have lost his resolve to leave if he saw you."

Hermione turned and leaned against the sink. "I keep wondering what would have happened if he had stayed."

"You think you missed out on five years with Harry," Ginny said. Hermione bowed her head, the memory of Ron hovering between the two of them. "Hermione, think back to when Ron died. What if Harry had told you about his feelings then? What would you have done? How would you have reacted? He was right in not telling you."

Ginny could tell by the look on Hermione's face that she hit a nerve. Hermione's expression belied the fact that she was not used to being told she was wrong, about anything. "Don't give me that look, you know I'm right. You couldn't have handled it then. Look at how you are handling it now, five years later!"

"You think Harry was right in leaving?" she asked with a look of incredulity plastered all over her face.

Ginny considered her best friend for a moment. "Yes, I do."

Hermione's head jerked back in shock as Ginny continued on. "Harry should have talked to you before he left, without a doubt. He was 100% wrong about that. But, he needed to leave. Even you understand that. Do you think he would have turned into the man he is now, the man you fell in love with, if he had stayed in England? I don't. This will sound trite, but if ever there was a man who needed to find himself, it was Harry Potter.

"You were not ready five years ago to hear that your best friend was in love with you. You had just buried your boyfriend and other best friend. Harry leaving gave you the chance to find out who you were as a person without the two of them around. You are both better off for the time you spent apart."

Hermione crossed her arms and looked down at the ground. An uneasy silence settled between them. "Are you mad at me?" Ginny asked finally.

"Furious," Hermione replied, looking up at Ginny with a faint smile. "Because you're right."

Ginny walked over to stand in front of Hermione. "You are one complicated witch, Hermione. Who else but you would be reduced to tears upon a declaration of long-term love from a handsome man?" she said teasingly.

"You think I overreacted, don't you?"

"I think your reaction had more to do with the stress you have been under, and have been trying to hide, than with what Harry told you."

Ginny embraced Hermione and squeezed her tightly. "Just think! Harry has been in love with you for seven years!" She pulled back and looked at her friend. "That is amazing devotion - to maintain those feelings for so long with so many miles separating you. Not to mention the fact that the feelings were unrequited for most of that time."

"It is a bit unbelievable," Hermione said, trying to restrain a smug smile.

"Harry made plenty of mistakes, but for the right reasons. Don't torture him too long."

Begging seems like such a negative word.

Harry walked up the steps of the castle Friday afternoon determined to talk to Hermione and beg for her forgiveness. The day after their big row, Harry had decided to give Hermione the space that she needed to deal with their disagreement by thinking through it, analyzing it, dissecting it, and whatever else her mind did in situations such as this. He had seen her, briefly, at the Great Hall for lunch. His heart leapt when she smiled at him, thinking for a short moment that all was forgiven. Then she told him, a smile artificially fixed on her face, and in undertones so that no one else could hear, that she was not ready to talk yet. She left shortly after he arrived with a small touch on his shoulder. He assumed that was for the benefit of the occupants of the Great Hall rather than any sign of affection for him.

He hadn't seen her since.

Two days was long enough.

He understood, probably more than she realized, what she was going through and how much he had hurt her. But he wasn't willing to sit back and let her decide, unilaterally, the future of their relationship. He was going to go down fighting.

Or begging if need be.

Sleep had eluded him the past two nights. Because of the routine they had gotten into over the previous month with Harry staying at the castle until midnight, any chance of falling asleep before midnight was gone. After that time, although his body was exhausted, his mind was working overtime, analyzing everything that he had done wrong over the last seven years. He imagined different futures based on courses of action he should have taken. He imagined what his life would be like without Hermione. He dreamed about what it would be like with Hermione. He imagined what everyone's life would have been like if he hadn't been born. With that particular fantasy, he half expected Sirius to drop down out of heaven to announce in a whining voice, "Every time a bell rings an angel gets his wings."

The low point by far occurred the night before when he found himself standing in front of the bookshelves in his parlor searching a thesaurus for synonyms for the word "begging."

Suppliant, pleading, beseeching, imploring, entreating, petitioning.

He slammed the book shut and put it back on the shelf.

Begging it is.

Harry took a deep breath, steeling his resolve, and knocked on the open door of Hermione's classroom. He stuck his head inside and was greeted by the last person he expected to see.

Albus Dumbledore.

"Ah, Harry! Come in, come in!" Dumbledore called, motioning Harry in with a wave of his hand.

Harry's feet were encased in lead. He couldn't have moved them if he tried. His immediate thought was that Hermione was gone, never to return. She left without a word in retaliation for the many wrongs, perceived and actual, he had committed over the past few years. A fear unlike any he had ever known settled in his heart.

"Harry! Harry! Can you hear me?"

Harry's eyes came into focus on Albus standing directly in front of him, snapping his fingers inches from Harry's face. "She has just popped down to London for the day for a meeting with Amelia."

Harry felt the life return to his body and he suddenly had the urge to sit down. He walked unsteadily over and plopped into a desk chair. He ran a shaky hand across his forehead, finding it clammy with sweat.

"Forgive me for saying so, Harry, but you aren't quite looking your best."

Harry gave him a half smile and replied. "I'm just a bit knackered."

"Ah," Dumbledore said sagely, sitting in a desk next to Harry. "Exactly what Miss Granger said when I saw her this morning." He looked over his half-moon spectacles at Harry. "This, however, does not look like the fatigue that often befalls young lovers."

Harry removed his hand from his head and looked sideways at Dumbledore, wondering what he knew about young love.

"I haven't always been old, Harry."

Harry suppressed a smile briefly before chuckling out loud. "I'm sorry, sir. I didn't mean..."

Dumbledore waved his hand. "Yes you did. But that's all right. You will be old one day soon and will understand with perfect clarity how amusing this situation is." Dumbledore steepled his fingers and rested his chin on them. "I gather from the demeanor of both of you that you have had your first major row. Am I right?"

Harry nodded his head slowly, keeping his eyes firmly on the desk.

"It must be rather serious judging by your reaction to seeing me in Hermione's classroom."

"I told her I have been in love with her for seven years."

Dumbledore looked puzzled. "And how is this bad news?"

Harry squirmed slightly in his chair. "I don't think that is what upset her, at least I hope not. I reckon she's upset because of my tendency to do things that affect her without consulting her first."

"I see." Dumbledore nodded his head. "She does have a point there, Harry."

"I know," Harry replied testily.

"I noticed you gave Hermione your mother's locket."

"She's still wearing it?" Harry asked. When Dumbledore nodded, Harry said, "I reckon that's a good sign."

"An excellent sign. She told me about the dream she had about Lily."

"She did?" Harry asked, shocked that Hermione would mention anything even remotely related to their sex life to Dumbledore.

"I think she wanted reassurance that it was, in fact, a dream and not some sort of vision."

Harry chuckled. "Typical."

"Quite," Dumbledore agreed with a smile. "From what Hermione told me, I believe it was an echo of Lily, much like what you saw in the graveyard the night Cedric Diggory was killed. I was rather surprised to hear Hermione speak of it, honestly. She must have forged a connection with the locket and Lily when she put it on for the first time."

"Will she continue to dream about my mum?"

"Quite possibly, although I doubt it will be a nightly occurrence." Dumbledore rose from his chair. "Your mother was a very gifted seer. Her visions were extremely accurate."

"Did she tell you about her visions of me."

"Yes, she did. Not long before she died. She knew I wouldn't interfere with the future, despite the fact that my faith in most seers is rather thin. Your mother was an exception. Every vision she had about you has come true."

"Good and bad?"

"Unfortunately, yes."

Harry nodded his head, at once comforted and disturbed by the knowledge that his mother saw the happy and horrible moments of his life. He remembered the letter his mother had written and realized that Dumbledore knew of possible events and people in his future. He knew the answer he would receive before he asked the question, but was compelled to ask anyway.

"So..."

"No, Harry. I will not tell you, so don't even ask." Dumbledore smiled the smile of an omniscient man. "Instead, I will ask you a question: have you ever doubted that Hermione is the woman in your mother's vision of your wedding?"

"No. Never."

"Then that is your future."

"Hello, Lily. I've been waiting for you."

"Have you? Well, aren't we confident in our abilities to communicate with the dead all of a sudden?"

"I want to know if it was I you saw in the vision."

"I can't tell you that, Hermione."

"Yes you can."

Lily sighed. "Are we going to do this all night? You can ask all you want, but I will not tell you. I am extremely stubborn."

"So am I."

"I'm dead."

That statement halted Hermione's thought process. "What does that have to do with anything?"

"We can do this all night and it won't affect me at all. I won't be bothered by it or frustrated or even care that I am repeating the phrase 'I can't tell you that, Hermione' over and over again. You on the other hand will quite possibly have an embolism before an hour is out. And I really don't want to be the cause of death of the woman my son loves. So, if it is all the same to you, I'd rather not have this conversation."

Hermione slumped in her wing chair, defeated.

Lily sat down on the hearth of the fireplace. "Why do you want to know so desperately?"

"Assurance."

"That you made the right decision in forgiving Harry?"

"I haven't forgiven him yet."

"Yes, you have."

"This is like talking to Dumbledore. You know all the answers before I ask the question, or even know what the question is."

Lily looked up and said loudly. "Did you hear that, James? She compared me to Dumbledore. Beat that!" Lily looked back down at Hermione, a huge smile on her face. "Sorry," she said, arranging her face in a serious expression.

"Don't mind me. I'm just dreaming anyway."

"Can I give you some advice? Woman to woman?"

"Of course, as long as it isn't about sex."

"No, you seem to have that sussed quite nicely without my help." Hermione blushed and Lily laughed. "You brought it up, not me."

"Touché. What is your advice?"

"Let go of perfection, Hermione."

"Right. You are just like Dumbledore. Not only are you all knowing, you're cryptic, too," Hermione said in exasperation. "What exactly does 'let go of perfection' mean, Lily?"

"Being the best at everything you do is your control mechanism. You control your surroundings with logic and knowledge. Anything short of perfection and you feel like a failure. Sound about right?"

Am I that easy to read? Hermione thought.

"No, you are just a lot like me," Lily replied. "Relationships are not perfect. Harry is not perfect. You are not perfect, although you give it a good go. You have to understand that the flaws in your relationship don't make it a failure. How you and Harry deal with each other's flaws will determine the success or failure of your relationship."

Hermione dropped her reading glasses on top of the papers in her lap she had been reading when she fell asleep. She pinched the bridge of her nose and closed her eyes, the events of the past week weighing on her.

"Are you stressed about your new job?" Lily asked kindly.

"Among other things."

"Minerva is right -- it is the perfect job for you. We have bets going on about it, you know."

Hermione looked at her sharply. "Bets? About what?"

"When you will become Minister of Magic."

Hermione scoffed. "I was teasing with Harry about that. No matter how much progress is made, I doubt I will see a muggleborn Minister of Magic in my lifetime."

"I wouldn't be so sure about that."

Her interest piqued, Hermione asked, "So what are the bets?"

"Well, James agrees with you, no offense intended, of course. He likes you very much, but a muggleborn Minister of Magic is a bit of a stretch, he reckons."

"No offense taken."

"Sirius is very cocky, surprise surprise. Since he knew you when he was alive, he feels very confident in his prediction."

"Which is?"

"When you are forty."

Hermione nodded her head. "Seventeen years. That seems very far away."

"It does, doesn't it?'

"What is your prediction?"

"Well," Lily began. "Sirius and James made me swear that I hadn't had a vision about it before they allowed me to bet. My prediction is 35."

"That sounds better than 40." Hermione narrowed her eyes at Lily. "Did you have a vision about it?"

Lily placed her hand on her chest and inhaled a shocked breath. "I would never use my sight to prove my husband and Sirius wrong. I don't particularly need to; they are wrong about so much anyway."

Lily winked at Hermione, who returned her smile. Hermione looked around the room, suddenly restless. She wondered what the etiquette was regarding ending a conversation such as this. As much as she enjoyed talking to Lily, she had an overwhelming urge to see Harry and set things right. She looked at her watch, noting the time and wondered if he was still awake. She smiled faintly at Lily, who gave her a knowing grin.

"You want to talk to Harry, don't you?"

"Yes."

"He wants to talk to you, too."

Hermione jolted awake, the papers on her lap spilling to the stone floor and her glasses hitting with a clatter. She looked around her room, which was dimly lit by the dying fire, for Lily and found only Crookshanks staring at the door.

Knock-knock-knock.

Please don't let this be the Head Girl needing something.

She opened the door to see Harry standing there, a nervous look on his haggard face. Hermione felt a wave of guilt wash over her as she saw the physical effects the last two days had had on Harry. His skin was colorless, contrasting starkly with his dark hair, which by virtue of his nervous expression seemed more disheveled than normal. The most disturbing aspect of his appearance was in his eyes. The eyes that she loved, the eyes she could spend hours staring into, were void of their usual sparkle. The change that this one feature made in his appearance was frightening. If she had ever wondered about the depth of his feelings, his shattered form standing in front of her drove any doubt out of her mind forever.

Hermione stepped forward and threw her arms around his neck, hugging him tightly. "Oh, Harry!"

Hermione felt the tension leave Harry's body as he slumped into her arms, returning her embrace, burying his head in the nook of her neck. Hermione felt his breath on her skin and heard his muffled voice repeating the same words over and over. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

She pulled his head back and saw tears streaming down his cheeks. "I'm so sorry, Hermione."

"Shhh," Hermione whispered, placing her lips on his. "I know." She framed his face with her hands, gently wiping away his tears with her thumbs. "I'm sorry I left like I did. I'm sorry I made you think we were over." She ran her hand through his hair and rested it at the base of his neck.

Harry leaned his forehead on hers and closed his eyes. "Please don't do it again."

Hermione knew without clarification what he meant. "I won't leave. I promise."

Harry's hands, which had been resting gently on her waist, rubbed up and down her sides. "We need to talk."

"I know," she replied, pulling him into her room.

As she closed the door behind Harry and looked around her room, she realized how inadequate their surroundings were for a conversation. Her room, not large to begin with, consisted of bookshelves, a fireplace, a chair and a bed. Up until this point, most of their in-depth conversations in this room had occurred in bed, after making love.

The awkwardness she felt was apparently mutual, as Harry turned around aimlessly, his hands in his pockets. He shrugged his shoulders and they both laughed at the situation.

When their laughter died down and silence fell in the room once again, Hermione began, "I read your letter in the paper."

"Oh?"

"It was really good."

Harry raised his eyebrows in response.

"I never had a problem with the letter. I just wanted to be consulted about it."

"I know, and you're right. I've been doing that kind of thing for a long time. It's going to take some doing, but I'll work on reining in my impulsiveness."

"All I ask is that you talk to me."

"I can do that."

Hermione nodded, unsure of what to say next. The resolution to the letter seemed to be anti-climactic. After all, that was the instigating issue -- the problem that spurred her reaction, or over-reaction as Ginny implied, to everything that came after. If that was so easily resolved, then she had to ask herself, what was the real issue?

They both began speaking at the same time.

"Harry, I just..."

"Listen, I..."

Harry smiled and motioned for Hermione to continue. "Go ahead. You first."

This was the first time Hermione could remember that she didn't want to go first. Still bothered by the question of what the real issue was, she searched for something to say. "Ginny thinks I over-reacted."

"You told Ginny?"

The look on Harry's face plainly said that he wished she hadn't, and Hermione questioned herself for a moment. Why did she talk to Ginny about a personal problem between herself and Harry? "I needed to talk to someone."

"I wish you would have talked to me."

"I needed someone objective."

"Someone who would agree with your side, you mean?" Harry said somewhat defensively.

"No," Hermione replied evenly. "She mostly agreed with you, truth be told."

"I guess I should thank her, then." He ran his hand nervously through his hair. "There were some things I would rather no one but you know." He rubbed the back of his neck with his hand and gave Hermione a meaningful look.

"Oh! I didn't tell her about what you were thinking after Ron's funeral."

A small smile of relief spread across Harry's face. "Thank goodness."

"Harry," she said, walking towards him. "About the thought you had after the funeral..." She saw Harry blanch and she rested her hand on his arm in consolation. "I hate that you have tortured yourself for years about that. It was an errant thought, something you considered in passing, along with more altruistic thoughts that you can't even remember. You had done everything you could while Ron was alive to respect Ron's feelings for me. You shouldn't torment yourself for the rest of your life for thinking about yourself in one inopportune moment."

Harry let out a shaky breath and grabbed Hermione's hand. "The look you had on your face when I told you that...I just knew that your faith in me was shattered."

Hermione looked down at their intertwined hands, loving the feel of his cool skin on hers. "No, Harry. You aren't the only person that has inappropriate thoughts." To Harry's puzzled expression, she explained, "In the months after Ron's death, a feeling of relief settled on me. Relief that I wasn't going to have to have the conversation he and I were destined for. Nothing will ever change the fact that I would rather have Ron here, standing in front of me, forcing me to have that conversation - telling him I wasn't in love with him. But he was gone and a part of me I'm ashamed of was glad to be spared that scene."

She looked up at Harry's shocked face and said nervously, "And now I'm worried about your opinion of me."

"No," Harry said, embracing her. "I'm just wishing we had been there for each other five years ago." He looked down at her. "It is my fault we weren't. I shouldn't have left. I should have been here for you."

Hermione shook her head. "I said this weeks ago, but it took talking to Ginny to remind me. You became the man I fell in love with because you left. If you had stayed, who knows what might have happened. What's done is done. I'm not going to wonder any more about what we missed out on. I want to focus on the here and now, and our future."

"We still have a future?"

"Right. Listen up," Hermione said sternly. "I don't mind telling you 100 times a day that I love you, because I do and I love seeing the look on your face when I say it. But I'm going to draw the line here. You have got to trust that I'm not going to bolt every time we have a row. I can't have the guilt of that hanging over me every time I want to be good and angry with you. We are going to argue and make up, and argue some more. As long as you don't cheat on me or perform illegal charms on a goat, we're going to be fine."

"Two things I would never dream of doing," Harry said with a smile.

"Then we will have a long and happy life together, filled with marital disagreements resolved peacefully and with lots of great make-up sex as a perk."

"Can we get that perk before the marriage part? Because great make-up sex sounds rather appealing right now."

Hermione saw the sparkle return to Harry's eyes and color was returning to his complexion. "I feel certain that can be arranged."

"Ouch!"

"Sorry."

"Here," Harry said turning on his side. Hermione pressed her back against his chest and snuggled into him, pulling the blankets up around them. Harry ran his hand along the dips and curves of Hermione's side, ending with rubbing light circles on her hip. He propped his head on his other hand and looked down at Hermione, whose eyes were closed. "Hermione?"

"Hmm?"

"Is this all behind us now?" he asked tentatively.

Hermione shifted a bit so that she was looking up at him. "Do you mean, am I going to keep bringing up the fact that you left?" Although she said this in a very neutral tone of voice, Harry knew that she was trying to hide her defensiveness.

"No." Harry said firmly. When Hermione continued to look at him without responding, he relented. "And yes."

Hermione gave a slight sigh and looked away.

"It's the same as what you said earlier about not wanting to be worried that I think you are going to leave every time we have a row," Harry explained. "I don't want this to come between us for the rest of our lives. I don't want it to get dredged up when we are fighting about what plants to put in the garden in thirty years."

Hermione returned her gaze to Harry's. "It's behind us. Completely."

Harry smiled and kissed her lightly on the lips. "Okay."

Hermione repositioned herself and closed her eyes again, her hands clasped under her pillow. Harry watched her for a moment before kissing the curve of her bare shoulder.

"If Minerva finds a replacement for you before the end of term, will you come live with me?"

Her eyes still closed, she replied simply. "Of course."

"You have no moral objections to living together before we are married?"

"Nope. I'm a scarlet woman, remember?" she whispered dramatically, looking at him mischievously out of the corner of her eyes.

"Right! How could I forget?"

They lay together in silence, Harry continuing to absently caress Hermione. "Hermione?"

"Hmm?"

"For the last two days, I've been trying to think of anything at all I haven't told you that I need to."

"And?"

"There is one thing." Harry saw a quickly veiled look of apprehension cross Hermione's face, and he pressed on hastily. "I'm the benefactor for the ABMB."

Total silence and a blank expression greeted this revelation. "When I left for America, I deeded Grimmauld Place to Remus. I knew that he would still need to have a job. I also knew that because of his condition he would have a hard time finding one. So I left a large sum of money in an account at Gringotts, in Dumbledore's name, and I asked him to find some way to get it to Remus. He came up with the ABMB."

Hermione continued to stare at Harry. "Say something," Harry pleaded.

Instead of speaking, she lifted her head and kissed Harry. "You are an amazing man, Harry. I hope our children have your heart."

"I hope we have lots of children."

"That would require marriage."

"Then let's get married."

"I haven't been asked yet."

"Hmm...good point. I guess I need to get on that, don't I?"

Hermione shrugged her shoulders nonchalantly. "No rush."

"No rush? What does that mean?"

"Well, I know you aren't going to ask me right now."

"Why not?"

"You don't have a ring," Hermione said simply.

"Are you quite certain about that?"

Harry grinned at the mixed look of fear and apprehension on Hermione's face. "Maybe I've had a ring for years. Maybe I was walking down Rodeo Drive one day and saw the perfect ring for you in the window of Tiffany's and bought it on a whim, hoping to have the chance to give it you some day."

Harry could tell now that Hermione was torn. Part of her was excited that maybe he really did have a ring, and part of her was anxious that he was about to pop the question. He sat there with a grin on his face until her eyes narrowed and skepticism took over.

"You don't have a ring."

Harry shrugged his shoulders. "Maybe, maybe not. Don't worry, though. I'm not going to ask you when you're naked. That wouldn't be a good story to tell our children, I don't reckon."

"That is true."

Harry moved her hair away from her neck and kissed her skin lightly, inhaling the scent of her hair as he did so. "Did I hear you talking to someone when I knocked on your door?"

Hermione turned her head quickly to look at him. "You heard me talking?"

"It sounded like two voices. Were you having a floo conference?"

Hermione looked thoughtful for a moment before replying. "No. I was talking to your mum."

"You were asleep?"

"Yes. At least I think I was. Your knock woke me up." Her brows furrowed into a look Harry was very familiar with - studious Hermione. "Dumbledore agrees that I'm not having visions. But I'm not dreaming either, per se."

"He told me it's like an echo."

"It is like I'm communicating with her through my dream state or something. It is very peculiar. Dumbledore was quite surprised when I told him about it."

Harry fingered the locket that was ever present around Hermione's neck. "So, this gave you a connection with my Mum?"

"It seems so."

"Tell me what's she like?"

"Cryptic. Keeps what she knows close to the vest."

"She won't tell you if you were the one she saw in the vision of my wedding, will she?"

"No," Hermione said, then started. "How did you know...?"

"Dumbledore guessed it." Harry kissed Hermione gently on the lips. "It doesn't matter one way or the other. I'm going to make sure that you are the one I see in the memory of my wedding."

Harry's heart melted at the look of joy this statement brought to Hermione's face. "Besides the fact that your mum won't tell me everything she has seen, she is very nice. Very proud of you, that's easy to spot. And she's funny, too, but in an understated way. I don't reckon she was ever the instigator of a prank, but I'd bet she could pull them off with the best of them. I need to get her to tell me the story of your first birthday and your dad's blue hair so I can tell you."

"I could ask Remus, as well."

"I asked Dumbledore if you would be able to dream about her if you wore the necklace."

"Really?" Harry asked, surprised that the idea hadn't occurred to him. "What did he say?"

"He doubted it. He thinks the connection is between the locket and me, just as it was with Lily. If anyone but her had worn the locket, chances are it would have been just an ordinary piece of jewelry."

Harry thought for a moment about somehow having the ability to talk to his parents after all these years. It was something he had wanted for as long as he could remember. But the thought of it actually happening gave him a feeling of despair instead of happiness.

"I don't think I would want to. I'm afraid it would just make me realize what I have missed out on my entire life. It would be worse knowing what I missed than wondering what I missed."

"I know what you mean," Hermione said sadly.

"I would rather look forward to my future family with you than back at my past."

"I agree," Hermione said, wrapping her arm back around his head, exposing her breast. Harry ran his hand up Hermione's stomach and began stroking her breast with his fingers. He heard a slight intake of breath and felt her nipples harden under his caress. He felt a surge of satisfaction from her response, his male ego bolstered with his ability to make her respond so quickly to his light touch.

"Will you stay tonight?" Hermione asked in a whisper, reaching between their bodies and grasping him. Thoughts of the uncomfortable bed fled his mind as she began to move her hand.

"You're very convincing," he groaned.

"It's a cause I believe in."

This just might be the worst day of my life.

Hermione walked into her room and plopped face down across her bed. She squeezed her eyes shut and watched dots dance around her eyelids. She relaxed her eyes and let the darkness of her buried face envelop her. She reluctantly rolled over onto her back and looked up at the sun streaming through her window. Earlier, on the way to solve yet another problem, she passed by a window overlooking the lake and saw that it was indeed a beautiful, sunny day in mid-March.

Not that I have had a chance to step foot outside and enjoy it.

It seemed that from the time she woke up until just now, when she finally got a chance for some peace and quiet, nothing had gone her way today. For the first time ever, she ran out of hot water in her shower, right after she had shampooed her hair into an impressive lather. By the time she had finished rinsing her thick head of hair, her teeth were chattering uncontrollably. At breakfast, an owl from the Daily Prophet pooped in her food and knocked over her goblet of pumpkin juice. Granted, those two things were easily fixed with magic, but seen through the prism of the rest of Hermione's day, they took on an entirely new, more irritating light.

Possibly because of the beautiful weather, her students seemed restless and bored; it was a challenge keeping them focused. Matters weren't helped in her second class when the quiz she had written on the chalkboard earlier turned into an advertisement for the "Hermione Granger Fan Club" when she said the charm for her writing to reappear. After the initial shock, she had been amused at the advertisement.

JOIN NOW!

The Hermione Granger Fan Club

Do you like your women smart and sexy?

Does studying turn you on?

Want to be the best at what you do

And look good doing it?

Then this is the club for you!

Join for one galleon and receive a

Glossy color photo of Professor Granger

(hair up or down, your choice!)

The amusement wore off quickly when she realized that none of the cleaning or erasing charms she knew would take the advert off the board. She had hastily hung her cloak over the board and attempted to continue on with the class, but the damage was done. Their attention was gone for the remaining time.

Her third and final class went smoothly until the last minute when a student in the back of the class, Hermione wasn't sure whom, set off a Filibuster Firework. Almost immediately, the bell rang signaling the end of class and the blue fairies released by the fireworks added to the bedlam that ensued. Fairies were flying around the classroom wreaking havoc, girls were screaming, boys were laughing and all were running out of the room. Two of the fairies flew to the chalkboard, removed Hermione's cloak from the advert and flew into the hall with it. They dropped it on a group of first years, which presently ran into a rather large suit of armor, sending it crashing to the ground.

Apparently flush with knowledge about the layout of the castle, the fairies split up and began a rampage of pranks that was unprecedented since Fred and George Weasley's tenure. It seemed to Hermione that she was the only professor left in the castle, as the Head Boy and Girl repeatedly sought her help in dealing with a myriad of problems.

"What seems to be the problem now?" Hermione asked wearily as she followed Charlotte down a thankfully deserted corridor.

"There are some second years hanging from a chandelier in the Hufflepuff common room."

"Of course there are," Hermione said dryly, knowing full well why Professor Sprout wasn't being summoned as she, Neville, Harry and Hagrid had taken advantage of the beautiful Friday afternoon to begin work on Molly's garden.

The seat of her chair had barely warmed when a Ravenclaw prefect and Quidditch player in a state of hysterics, about what Hermione wasn't sure, had found her. Once she had gotten the girl to calm down, she was told that somehow the trunks holding the Quidditch sets had all been opened in the Quidditch Closet at the Pitch. She and another Ravenclaw had gone down for a bit of practice and had been nearly decapitated by out-of-control bludgers.

"We were somehow able to shut the door before the bludgers got out. But now they are pounding at the door, trying to get free. I'm sure it's only a matter of time before they break the door down."

Hermione closed her eyes, willing herself to be calm. She rose briskly from her chair and strode into her office. She grabbed a handful of Floo Powder and threw it into the fire before thrusting her head into the cool flames and shouting "The Burrow!"

Her head stopped spinning to find Molly's back to her, filling glasses at the kitchen sink. She jumped and turned when she heard Hermione's voice.

"Sorry, Molly. Can you get Harry for me?"

"Is everything all right, dear?" she asked, a strange look on her face.

"Besides the fact that I'm having a horrible day and there are bludgers apparently beating down the door of the Quidditch Supply Closet, yes, everything is right as rain."

"Oh, dear."

"Yes, well, I need Harry to tell me the charm to stun the bludgers. I don't know it and frankly don't have the energy to look it up. Could you get him, please?"

Molly hesitated, then said quickly, "Of course. It may take a few minutes. He was knee deep in muck last time I saw him."

"It is his Quidditch Closet, not mine."

Hermione watched Molly bustle out of the room and waited. She heard muffled voices and the sound of a shovel or hoe and the 'whump' of dirt being thrown. She could smell the remnants of lunch and her stomach growled, a reminder that she hadn't eaten lunch. Impatience began to set in when Harry did not appear in the first five minutes. At seven minutes, irritation and a dull ache in her knees from kneeling on the stone floor took over her mood. When Harry finally bounded through the door out of breath a minute later, Hermione was almost angry.

"Hiya, sweetheart," Harry began, a smile on his face.

Happy to see his friendly face but put out with the course of her day, she said shortly, "What is the charm to stun bludgers?"

"Nice to see you, too."

"Harry, I'm having a really bad day, okay? I'm not trying to be rude, but I'm not in the mood for chit-chat. Could you tell me the charm, please, so I can take care of yet another problem and then lock myself in my room for some peace and quiet?"

Harry sat down cross-legged on the floor in front of her, concern etched on his face. "Has your day been that bad?"

"Yes," she said wearily. She looked at him and smiled, her irritation melting and her day looking considerably brighter just by seeing him. She furrowed her brows and said, "Molly said you were knee deep in muck? You look pretty clean to me."

Harry's eyes widened a bit and he replied with a smile, "I couldn't be all dirty before I saw my girl, now, could I?"

"If it would have gotten you in here five minutes sooner, then yes, you could have. The charm?"

"Right. It isn't exactly a charm. Get my whistle from my office and blow 'S-O-S' in Morse code. They will drop right to the ground."

"You're joking, right?"

"Nope."

"Who thought of that?"

"I did," Harry said proudly. "Each referee has their own secret charm so the bludgers can't be tampered with during a game. That's mine." He leaned forward and whispered, "Don't tell anyone!"

"Don't worry," Hermione said, her eyes rolling. "I've got to go. Have fun playing in the dirt."

Now here she was two hours later, on her bed, the Quidditch Closet sorted out and her day over. She was determined to ignore any and all knocks on her door; let another professor deal with the students' spring fever. She shook her head and sat up, wondering why she was reliving such a horrible day. She removed her shoes and robe and changed into more comfortable clothes. Her grumbling stomach overriding her sensibilities, she requested a sandwich be delivered to her room, along with a pot of tea. Almost immediately, it appeared on the table beside her wing chair, and she blessed the efficiency of the house elves.

Grabbing some papers from her bag to review, she settled into her wing chair, tucking her feet under her and grabbing half of the sandwich. She munched absently while attempting to concentrate on what she was reading. Soon, the sandwich forgotten and her tea untouched, her eyes drooped closed and her head fell to rest on the back of the chair. She felt Crookshanks jump into her lap and settle down, his warm weight comforting and the vibrations of his purring lulling Hermione into a deep sleep.

"Hermione?"

She felt a gentle touch on her cheek and a warm weight lift from her lap, replaced by the cool air.

"Hermione?" she heard again, her hand being covered in warmth. She opened her eyes and slowly focused on Harry kneeling in front of her, a slight smile on his face.

"Hey, sleepyhead. I thought you didn't take naps?"

Hermione inhaled deeply and looked around, noticing that the sun streaming through her window was now replaced with the bluish light of early evening. "I don't. What time is it?"

"About 6:45."

Hermione's eyes widened in shock upon the realization she had been asleep for almost two hours. She looked at the not even half-eaten sandwich, the bread curling from dryness. "I missed dinner."

"So did I."

"I refuse to ask for another meal in my room and I'm starving. Want to go to the kitchens with me?"

"How about I take you to the Three Broomsticks?"

Hermione shook her head. "I can't. Minerva is in London and she left me in charge. I can't leave."

"I saw Minerva on my way here. She told me to tell you she was back." Harry looked a bit sheepish. "I asked her if I could take you out of the castle for dinner and she agreed. I hope that was all right."

"It bloody well was. After today, I want to get out of here more than you know. Just let me get changed."

Fifteen minutes later, they walked across the grounds toward the main gates, hand in hand, each giving the other a rundown of their day. Almost to the Three Broomsticks, Harry stopped and patted his pockets. "I forgot my money!" He pulled her hand, tugging her towards the road that led to his house. "Let's stop by my house and pick up my wallet."

"I'm sure Rosmerta will spot you. It isn't like you aren't in there four times a week."

"Yeah, but I hate doing anything that looks like I'm benefiting from being, well, me." He pulled her hand again. "Come on. It will only take a moment."

"Okay," Hermione replied reluctantly, her stomach growling loudly in response to the smell emanating from the pub.

They walked through the front gate of his garden, and Harry bounded up the stairs two at a time. He pushed open the door and entered the dark house, calling to her, "I think it's in my bedroom. Come on in."

Hermione stepped through the threshold of the door and the darkened room was suddenly ablaze with lights.

"SURPRISE!!"

People, tons of people, were standing in a semi-circle around the room, smiling and clapping at Hermione. Fireworks erupted and blue fairies, the bane of Hermione's day, flew up and wrote "Happy Birthday, Hermione!" in the air above the group's head. Multi-colored balloons lit from within were floating lazily around the room emitting a soft glow.

Hermione's first thought was that she was dreaming -- that she was still sitting in her chair in her room dozing with Crookshanks on her lap. She looked around in a daze, her eyes settling on Harry, who was standing in the middle of the semi-circle, the biggest grin she had ever seen plastered on his face. He walked toward her and asked, "Are you surprised?"

"No, I'm asleep."

Laughter rang out from the group, which she now saw consisted of her friends. Ginny, Neville, Fred and George (I need to have a word with them, she thought), Minerva, Professor Sprout, Dumbledore, Amelia Bones, Remus, Molly, Hagrid, Madam Rosmerta, Seamus and Fiona and others were all talking at once.

"I knew she wouldn't believe it," Ginny said laughing.

"Did someone get a picture of the look on her face. That was priceless," Seamus said good-naturedly.

"Yep! I got it," Fred said, brandishing a camera.

Hermione looked at Harry, completely confused. "Harry," she whispered. "It's not my birthday."

"Well, not technically, no. But it is your half birthday. Today, March 19th, you are 23 ½ years old."

Relief that Harry did in fact know her birthday was September 19th washed through her, quickly replaced with shock at what he had done for her.

"You did all of this," she said, gesturing at the room, "for me?"

Harry nodded his head. "You said once that you were rarely surprised. I wanted to see if I could do it."

"Wow," Hermione said, looking around. "You did. I had no idea."

"You have been a bit distracted today," Harry said with a smirk.

Hermione's mouth gaped open as comprehension dawned. "YOU!" she said. "You arranged all of those pranks, didn't you?"

Harry forced his face into a serious expression. "I would never do that. I promised Minerva I wouldn't prank a teacher, and I didn't. I have an alibi."

Minerva sidled up to Hermione, handing her a glass of wine. "When Harry told me his plan, I had no idea the extent of his distractions." She looked rather sternly at Harry (but Hermione could tell it was forced) before walking off to mingle with the other guests. Everyone took that as the cue to walk up to Hermione and wish her a Happy Birthday and tease her good-naturedly about her shocked expression.

"I'll have pictorial proof to you tomorrow," Fred said over his shoulder.

"I can't wait," Hermione said dryly.

Hermione took in the scene in front of her of her friends talking, laughing and eating food catered by Madam Rosmerta. She turned to Harry and said, "This is, by far, the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me. Thank you." Standing on her tiptoes, she reached up and gave him a kiss. "You are going to get so lucky tonight," she whispered suggestively.

Harry raised his eyebrows. "Suddenly, I want everyone to leave."

Hermione wiggled her eyebrows at him and strolled off to begin visiting with her friends.

It was close to midnight, and Hermione was lying on the sofa, her bare feet propped up on the arm, wiggling her toes.

"I don't think I've ever been so completely knackered."

She waited for a response from Harry, which didn't come. She sat up and looked around, wondering where he'd gotten off to. "Harry?"

"Yeah, just a minute!" she heard him call from another room.

She plopped back on the sofa and waited, wondering if she had the energy to fulfill her promise to Harry from earlier.

"Hermione, come here a sec!"

"I'm too tired. You come here!"

Harry walked into the room and around the sofa, bending down to pick Hermione up. "You're lazy," he said reprovingly.

"No, I just wanted you to carry me like some damsel in distress."

"Yeah, right," he said, kicking open the door to the bathroom, which was suffused in flickering candlelight. The tub was full of thick green bubbles, steam rising from the water. "I feel a little guilty about being the cause of your bad day, so I drew you a bath. I hope you don't mind," he said, setting her feet gently on the floor.

"What did I do to deserve all of this?"

"Love me."

"When you do things like this, it's easy to love you."

"Don't forget to love me when it's hard, too."

She placed her hand on his cheek. "I won't." She looked at the tub and back at Harry, unbuttoning her top. "Care to join me?" she asked, dropping her blouse to the floor.

"I'd love to, but you need to relax. And I want to clean up out there a bit," he said, gesturing vaguely to the rest of the house. He kissed her gently on the lips. "Take your time."

He turned back to her as he was closing the door. "By the way, you're staying here tonight. Minerva knows and doesn't care." He gestured to the hook on the back of the door, on which a pair of Hermione's silk pajamas was hung. "I nicked some of your things a couple of nights ago."

Thirty relaxing minutes later, Hermione walked into their bedroom to find Harry leaning against the headboard, fully clothed, on top of the bed. He scrambled off the bed and over to her. "Why aren't you ready for bed?" she asked.

He shrugged his shoulders. "How was your bath?"

"Excellent."

"Good. Feel better?"

"I've felt great ever since I walked in the door to your house tonight."

"See, you can be surprised."

"Apparently, I can."

He framed her face in his hands and gently kissed her. "I love you so much."

"I love you, too."

He pulled her to him and kissed her deeply, running his tongue lazily around her mouth, his hands sliding up and down the silky material of her pajamas. Hermione closed her eyes and leaned her head back as he kissed his way down her neck and body, pausing briefly to kiss her breasts through the smooth material. She intertwined her hands in his hair as he pushed her top up slightly to kiss her stomach, flicking his tongue in her belly button, his hands sliding down her legs. It took a moment to realize that Harry had stopped and she looked down to find him on his knees staring up at her.

She smiled at him. "Why did you stop? I'm not that tired."

Harry smiled up at her, a bit mischievously. "Hermione?" he asked, raising his hand. "Will you marry me?"

Hermione looked at his hand and saw, to her amazement, that he was clutching a ring. She felt sure that her eyes were about to pop out of her head and that her jaw was without a doubt on the ground. She looked from the ring to Harry and back to the ring, not only unable to speak, but completely unable to think.

"Surprise," Harry said, when she returned her astonished gaze to him.

Hermione dropped down to her knees and grabbed Harry's hand, looking at the ring he held. Unlike many of the women she knew, she had never given much thought to a wedding ring or what she would want when the time came. Even with the discussions she and Harry had had about marriage, she had never given much thought to the ring. As she looked at the ring he held in his hand, she realized that he knew her better than she knew herself.

It was absolutely perfect.

It was a platinum band. At least, she thought it was platinum from the little bits of the band she could see around the edges; the emeralds encrusted all around obscured most of it. It was beautiful and striking without being pretentious and gaudy. She guessed that if all the tiny emeralds on her band were merged into one stone, the size of it would be obscene. But that didn't matter one jot to Hermione; her thoughts kept returning to the fact that Harry knew her so well and knew what she would want, even when she didn't.

"It's beautiful," she breathed. "Just what I wanted."

"Really?" Harry asked, childlike enthusiasm emanating from him.

"Really. It's incredible! Oh, Harry!"

Harry started to put it on Hermione's finger when he stopped. "You haven't said yes, you know?"

Hermione smirked at him. "Yes."

Harry grinned broadly and slipped the ring on her finger the rest of the way. She placed her hand on Harry's chest, splaying her fingers and wiggling them. "Perfect fit, which I suppose shouldn't surprise me."

"Want to know the best part of it?"

"What?"

"I have charmed it so that only you and I can see it."

"Really?" Hermione asked, intrigued.

"Here is my thought, but we can undo the charm if you want. As soon as people find out, the Daily Prophet will have a field day again. Seeing that they have finally left us alone, I thought we shouldn't add any fuel to their fire."

"I agree with that."

"And, well, I don't want to take anything away from Neville and Ginny's wedding. So, I thought we could keep it to ourselves for a while and then announce it after they get married. Is that all right?"

"Then why did you ask me now?"

"I couldn't wait. I wanted desperately to hear you say yes and see the ring on your finger."

Hermione looked admiringly at it again. "Where did you get it?"

"Tiffany's."

Hermione looked sharply at Harry. "When did you get it?"

"A couple of years ago." Harry watched her warily. "Are you angry?"

Shocked out of her stunned silence Hermione responded, "No. I'm just amazed by it all. And a bit surprised at how well you know me, to have bought this two years ago when we were so far apart and hadn't seen each other for years."

Harry smiled and began unbuttoning her top. "Right. Now I want to see what you look like wearing only that ring."

---