Close to Grace

Close to Grace

This story is about love, but not about romance. This is about what a person will do to ensure the people he loves will remain safe. This is the story about sacrificing everything to receive nothing. This story is about the search for something more, but mostly this is a story about walking the line between sin and grace.

Prologue :

"S'io credessi che mia risposta fosse apersona che mai tornasse al mondo, questa fiamme staria senza piu' scosse. Ma per cio' che giammai di questo fondo senza tema d'infamia ti rispondo."

"If I believed my answer were being given to someone who could ever return to the world, this flame (his voice) would shake no more. But since no one has ever returned alive from this depth, if what I hear is true, I will answer you without fear or disgrace." Dante's Inferno

July 30th, 2020

My Dearest~

If anyone had told me how life would end up I never would have believed them. Oh sure, I have everything I always wanted, a great career, a great family, and a loving and caring husband. But I want for everything. I climb into bed every night next to my husband and best friend, and every night I'm unfaithful in my dreams. It's not as if I don't love him, because I do. Only it's different.

It's been 22 years since that day you left me. Was I a fool, thinking my love would ensure your return? Maybe I was. For once the brilliant Hermione Granger was clueless. I believed you when you said we were going to have a future together, that we'd tell him and live happily ever after. But happily ever after is only for fairy tales, and it's not as if we live in a Magic Kingdom.

We should never have let anything happen between us. You were practically my brother, practically being the key word. You didn't want it to go so far as it did, I see that now. You knew as if you had some sort of sixth sense about your fate. Maybe I'd never have dated him in the first place if you'd gotten over your fear in the first place. But hindsight is truly 20/20.

Ron's good to me, don't get me wrong. He's a great father to our kids. He always plays with them and they never have said an ill word against him. He tries to love me, but every once and awhile when we go out I see the look on his face. It's in his eyes; the sorrow he feels when he realizes what we have isn't true love, only caring and companionship masquerading as love. Ron deserved better than to get trapped by love, not in love. God, he deserves better.

It's not as if he's ignorant to what happened between us. I've heard him on several occasions. He was talking to his mum the first time I learned that he knew. It was right after I'd given birth to our son on your birthday. He thought I was asleep...

"She loved him Mum."

"Loved who?"

"Harry. She had an affair with him before he left."

"Ron,"

"I know mum. It's in times gone by. It's just I wonder if I did the right thing."

We named our son James after your family's sacrifice. He's graduating this year as Head Boy. Our daughter is 13 and she is more like her father. And now she's starting to ask questions about love. And I don't know what to tell her. Do I tell her that love is what Daddy and I have? Or do I tell her about true love?

I could tell her everything about true love. I could tell her how my insides froze when you brushed your lips upon mine that first time. Every time I looked into your eyes, I saw a reflection of myself within your heart. How I could read your entire face in a single glance. I could tell her of the flowers you gave me, the white roses that I loved and Ron scorned. He thought it was cute, so long as they were never red. But you knew, I hated red roses, hated them for their repetitiveness.

The last time I saw you something bothered me about your appearance. Something was amiss. But I never realized what it was. Now I know. It was the lack of a smile in your eyes. You seemed withdrawn. We talked, and you gave me the ring you said belonged to your Mum. A diamond with two green emeralds surrounding it, James said it reminded him of Lily's eyes, your eyes. I've worn it over 22 years. It reminds me of the good and bad simultaneously.

I miss your smile. The way it would light up even during the most dangerous of times. I bet you smiled when you died. I think about your death often. Were you satisfied, your destiny finally fulfilled? Maybe it's just easier for me to think this, instead of a pain stricken face.

Even worse are the nights when I can't sleep. I hear you whispering my name, your mangled body lying under the ruble at the Ministry. And for one selfish moment you ask why. Why was it you? Where was I? I try to explain, but you never hear me. You never see me and then you're gone. Than I'm alone in a room filled with white roses. Analytically I know that it's my guilt talking and not you. But, God, how I hope you died peacefully.

God, how I love you Harry. Even to this day with everything I have, I still would give it back just to have you. I kiss Ron and close my eyes. For just a second, the time it took for me to fall in love with you, I see your face painted upon my eyelids. And I feel that if sure will could bring you back, I'd have accomplished it at least 1,000 times. But that doesn't happen- instead you rush through my memories. I see you on the Hogwarts Express, taped glasses and all. I can smell the scent you picked up when we flew through Quidditch fields and twilight sunsets. All this until your eyes are burned into my eyes, so that when I open them I expect bright emeralds and see warm sapphires instead. Just as equal, yet not quit right.

Tomorrow you would have turned 40. Your Birthday is a holiday now. I chuckle, because I know you'd hate the idea. Just like you'd hate the idea that Ron and I go up to Godric's Hallow at least once a year on your Birthday, though sometimes more. We bring a single white rose for you, a lily for James and lilacs for Lily. Others bring flowers throughout the year, and I feel sad. Sad that they will never know you the way I did. And every year I cry. I got seven glorious years with you and I came to learn what love truly is. And Harry, you were true love, even if for a moment. I have to go now, the kids and Ron are waiting, we are going to celebrate James' birthday.

With all my heart and devotion

Hermione Granger Weasly

Chapter 1: Truth

"I can tell by your eyes that you've probably been crying forever

and the stars in the sky don't mean nothing to you they're a mirror.

I don't wanna talk about it, how you broke my heart, if I stay here just a little bit longer, if I stay here, won't you listen to my heart..." I Don't Wanna Talk About It, the Indigo Girls

February 14, 2021

Hermione Granger Weasly sat at her desk in the small cottage she owned outside Hogsmeade. Her husband was away at work. That was a relief in itself. She hated it when he was underfoot for the day. She was never at peace. Her daughter and son were both at Hogwarts and wouldn't be down until the next Hogsmeade weekend. The wrought iron picture frame was cold in her hand. She looked deep into her daughter's face, seeing nothing of herself in it. Rebecca had bright flaming hair and a face covered in freckles. She was on the Gryffindor house team by her second year and was making a "bloody brilliant chaser" in the words of her father. The only thing that betrayed her was the hazel of her eyes. She didn't have her father's blue or her mother's brown, just a mix. But that was it, as far as Hermione was concerned when it came to her daughter's resemblance to herself. Her son, however, resembled his mother. His dark brown eyes and wavy brown hair, as well as his grades and attitude were that of his mother. Not to say that her daughter wasn't smart, but all the same James was smarter. He currently took his job as Head Boy as one of utmost importance. He could have taken anyone out on this special occasion, but he would rather make sure the school was in order. Hermione smiled thinking of her oh, so Ravenclaw son. Ron had been shocked when the hat had sorted James into Ravenclaw, but Hermione knew better. The only reason she had wanted in Gryffindor was she was sure that was where Harry Potter would end up. The Sorting Hat had tried hard to place her in Ravenclaw, and she just as stubborn as that old hat had wanted Gryffindor. She had been elated, but, now looking back on her life, she wondered what would have happened if she had made the other choice. After all, it is our choices that make us who we are, and Hermione would have been completely different if it weren't for Harry Potter.

And that was the reason for her mood on this "festive" holiday. Again she was stuck in the past. Her husband didn't know what vexed Hermione when no one was around. She set down the picture frame with a sigh and walked over to the cloak rack. Picking up her winter cloak, a thick wool that Mrs. Weasly had knitted her, she left the house.

Once she reached the outskirts of Hogsmeade she apparated to Godric's Hallow. The small town slept under a blanket of creamy white. Though the weather was mild, the snow stayed. It crunched under her feet as she walked, to the place she walked everyday, whether in her mind, or in real life.

Harry Potter sat in his relaxing room. The soft breeze played across his face as he penned his letter. They told him that he wouldn't be allowed to remember certain things, such as why he was going back. But Lily had assured him that he would remember Hermione. That alone was enough for him. And so he wrote, his soul and feelings on parchment. When he was finished he folded it and put it in his pocket before taking the bitter potion that had been given to him, in order to carry out his task...

She sat in the small park and watched as people went by. Little did they know that beyond the bare lilac bushes lay Harry Potter's grave. There was an official memorial in the town middle, but that was for all the victims of Voldemort's wrath. Harry's grave had been hidden to avoid any problems. Hermione had wanted a place for Harry to have peace. His entire life had been spent running toward what would ultimately lead to his death. At least in death he could be happy. She kept an eye on his grave, one of the few that could see it, she read the quote on his grave. Over and over it played on the recess of her mind: "Love is the beauty of the soul and because of your beauty I have found love, and because of your love I have found my soul." The words were something Harry had written her once, though no one knew it, while waiting for her in a small café in Hogsmeade. Hermione had gone with Ron instead and sealed her fate. She was lost in thought when she noticed a tall man lurking about the grave. She got up to see who it could be. After all only certain people were aware of the grave.

Then the man's knees buckled under him and Hermione rushed over to him. She knelt down to him and flipped him over to see if he was still breathing, and for a moment she was afraid she was going through a memory. The dark black hair was tousled over a familiarly pale face. And above his right eye was a scarlet scar. Hemrione gasped. She checked for a breath and found that this man, this apparition, whatever he was, had one. She brushed the hair out of the man's face and felt the heat radiating from his scar. And than, his eyes opened, green sapphires were the first shock she received, until the man whispered, "Hermione?" Before passing out once more...

Hermione would never know what got her back home with this stranger, but it was a strength and calmness that she had forgotten she possessed. She had levitated the mystery man to the couch and then had flooed her husband. Now she sat in her kitchen, while her husband and his co-Aurors checked to verify what she already knew was true. Harry Potter was alive.

Among the aurors was Sirius Black, Harry's godfather. Hermione looked up as he walked into the room. She had never seen the man before her look so happy yet soscared at the same time. And if she could look into his soul she would know why.

Sirius hadn't made it through Azkaban without learning a thing or two about human nature. He learned how to read people a long time ago, and Ron was about as easy to read as a first grade primer. Sirius could see the look on Ron's face when it was determined that the man on the couch was indeed Harry. A look of relief was the first thing that he noticed, but this was quickly replaced with fear and jealousy. Sure Sirius could read those things, but why they were there he did not know.

He knew that Harry always carried a flame for Hermione, but he figured that Hermione had either turned him down, or he had never said anything to her. But that was the least of his worries. He was more worried about why and how Harry had come back. The day of Harry's departure had been one of utter grief to Sirius. He had lost two Potters already, but to lose the final Potter was more than he could bare. It took many years for Sirius to resume a normal life, the only way he could do that was by telling himself that they were all in a better place. He silently shook the thoughts out of his head like cobwebs falling to the floor.

"Sirius, is that him? Is it really him?" Hermione asked with a timid voice. The past few hours had been tough on her. Guilt, grief, and happiness all mingled with in her heart. What would happen to them? Ron knew her secret, but would Harry want anything? And her kids, gods, why was her life so difficult?

Sirius pulled a chair up to the table where Hermione sat. Peering deep into her eyes he saw the scared, determined girl he met while in the Shrieking Shack.

"Yeah," Sirius cleared his throat. "It's him. I'm going to be going home to try and figure out what happened. I'll see you later?" Hermione nodded and than made a move to get up, but Sirius stayed her with a hand.

"Hermione, before you go in you should know we don't know quite how to deal with this situation," He paused. "Just be careful."

Hermione got up, "Thank you Sirius, I'm sure you know what this means to me."

"Yeah, I do."

Hermione walked through the narrow hallway that connected the cozy kitchen to her front parlor. As she walked in, she noticed things as she had never seen them before. There was a small crack running up the taupe colored walls. She noted the family pictures, all marking the passage of time, which hung loosely upon the wall. Her eyes focused on her wedding picture, she was smiling, but she knew the ache in her heart that day, the need for something more than what she had that day; and than she saw his emerald eyes looking expectantly up at her. She was equally aware of Ron's eyes watching her intently from the corner. The moment stood in time as the other aurors excused themselves.

Finally it was the three of them. Hermione couldn't help it- she rushed Harry in a hug. He felt so real. She felt her hands reaching all over. His back, his shoulders, his silky hair; all of it was him. She took his face within her hands, "It's you. Oh gods, it's really you." Ron had moved closer to them and Hermione backed away from Harry.

Ron hugged Harry back, "It's good to see you, mate."

"It's good to see you ,too," Harry said. Hermione let out a small gasp, to hear his voice again. "Both of you." He added with a nod toward Hermione. They all moved in together each taking the others hand, until they were whole again.

"So where have you been, mate?" Ron asked Harry.

"I don't know. I don't remember," Harry answered with a sad voice.

Sirius Black sat at the table in his living room. Strewn across the small oak coffee table were books and journals. The rest of his house betrayed the life of a confirmed bachelor. He never remarried, although he had been cleared years ago, before Harry even went on his final battle, he could never quite shake the bad guy persona. However, that did not make him unhappy. He had a happy life he had his friend, Remus Lupin, and he reveled in watching Hermione and Ron raise their family. Perhaps it was a little voyeurism, but he knew it was what Harry would have wanted.

Sirius sat back onto his couch after taking a sip of his coffee and began reading his journal on ancient lands and prophecies. It wouldn't be long before people wanted answers, and he wasn't sure he wanted to be there when people found out.

Harry had fallen asleep after a few minutes of talking to Ron and Hermione. Whatever he had been through had taken its toll on him, though the Medi-wizards said he would be fine. Hermione was relieved to hear that Harry's reappearance was to remain top secret. Ron sat in the kitchen watching his wife as she cooked a simple vegetable soup.

"Today was supposed to be special," he whispered.

"It is special Ron."

"I meant- well I think you know what I meant. I had dinner planned and everything," He paused and than quickly added, "Don't get me wrong, heavens know I am glad he's back after all, it is not like this sort of thing happens everyday."

"I know, Ron," Hermione sighed, thoughts of a time gone by and many untimely deaths ran through her mind. "Believe me I understand," She said as she added the chopped carrots to the soup.

"I'm going to Sirius's house. I'm going to help him with his research. The sooner we know what happened, the sooner Harry can begin his life," Ron finally said after a long moment of silence. He got up and kissed Hermione on the cheek before apparating out of the house.

Hermione let out a sigh; it had been hard to keep her feelings to herself while he was about. At this moment all she wanted to do was watch Harry, just to be sure that he would never disappear. She turned the soup down to boil and walked back into the parlor where Harry slept. He looked so young with his glasses off, though this was something that everyone in the Gryffindor common room had noted when they were at Hogwarts. But he had aged, wherever he was, his hair was beginning to grey above his left temple, and small laugh lines surrounded his eyes. This ruled out any possibility that he had been trapped in some sort of time warp, if so he wouldn't have aged. Hermione bent over him and covered him with a blanket. As she sat down, he opened his eyes and Hermione smiled.

"Hey, sleepyhead."

To that Harry smiled and took Hermione's hand in his own. He looked at the ring on it which marked her marriage to Ron. It was a small heart shaped diamond surrounded by a circle of rubies. Hermione secretly thought Ron had bought one like this to compete with the one she wore from Harry.

"He picked out a good ring for you," His smile was bitter sweet. "But we both always had your best interest at heart." She could feel her eyes welling with tears. He was so considerate, even after everything.

"Harry-"

"So tell me about your family. The boy and girl in the picture over there- are they your kids?" Hermione nodded, biting her lip.

"In the boy it's obvious, but he wasn't blessed with your eyes like the girl was. What are their names?"

"Rebecca and James," Hermione saw Harry look up slightly at what she had just said, an unasked question in his eyes.

"Yes, we named him after your dad. It was Ron's idea actually." She said. Harry sat up and made room for Hermione on the couch and motioned that she sit with him. He held her in his arms.

"Harry, do you think we could just sit for awhile, and not talk? I just want to feel that you are here."

"Alright love, it's fine with me." Harry said, brushing her hair away from his chin.