For Harry

For Harry

---

It's for Harry.

These words had become her mantra during the past few months. As she sat in the cold stone bathroom with her back pressed against the damp paneled walls, her limp hand shaking violently as it stirred the pinkish-gray liquid in the cauldron in front of her, she spoke the words over and over again...it's for Harry, it's for Harry, it's for Harry...

It had started, Hermione supposed, far before she had ever met the seemingly innocent Ginny Weasley. It had, in fact, started the moment she had seen the picture of the infant Harry Potter in one of the many books she read immediately after being accepted to Hogwarts. She recalled how poignant the eyes on the child looked, a child who knew death, who had seen it before his own one-year-old eyes. She recalled touching the picture and feeling a jolt not unlike the one that marred his forehead. She had shaken her head, taking it for a cold or the flu, and had dog-eared the page.

Her fascination with the boy only increased when she met him, and she immediately felt drawn to the famous Harry Potter. It continued through her first year, and into the summer where, though she did not see the boy, her mind pictured his face over and over. She supposed the old saying was true; absence did make the heart grow fonder, but in her case it was not only fonder, it was more curious.

Hermione's curiosity only grew when she caught her first glimpse of Harry and Ron Weasley as they came in late the next year. But what really piqued her curiosity was the young Ginny Weasley, who sat with the Sorting Hat atop her head proudly. Even from her seat alone at the Gryffindor table, she could see the spark and fire in the girl. When Hermione finally saw the red hair emerge from under the Sorting Hat, she knew that the girl must be a Weasley.

"That," Hermione had mused, "probably means she had the same bad temperament as her older brother and his stubbornness as well."

But, as she spent the next few months observing the young girl, she noticed that Ginny was most certainly not the same as her older brother. In fact, Ginny was about as opposite of her brother as one person could get. Where Ron was loud, Ginny was quiet. Where he was insecure, she was self-assured. The list went on and on in Hermione's mind and the list continued to grow and complicate over the next year.

Of course, like anyone would expect, Hermione and Ginny grew to be close friends. After all, a girl can only take so much time with two boys before driving herself completely mad. In Ginny, Hermione found the younger sibling she craved to have around. Ginny was her only link to the world of femininity, something she hadn't cared for much if at all in her first year. Ginny also became her deepest confidante, and Hermione found herself spilling much of her heart to the girl.

However, Hermione's affection for the great Harry Potter was never a topic of conversation. Somehow, it seemed wrong to speak about the bespectacled boy who never left her mind while the youngest Weasley would gab excitedly about how Harry had paid her a single compliment that day. Hermione would smile and nod as a mother did to her child, telling Ginny that she needed to be more herself, that she needed to make sure that Harry saw the "real" Ginny, not the shy one who wouldn't make a single declarative sentence with Harry in the room.

Instead of talking about Harry, Hermione would talk about Ron. She told herself she wasn't really lying; she did fancy Ron after all, and who was she to deny that? Plus, Ginny always made her feel less embarrassed about her (what Ginny considered slightly abnormal) feelings for Ron.

These conversations sustained her for her first five years at Hogwarts. Five years of feeding Ginny Weasley half-truths and in turn living her fantasies through Ginny Weasley's fantasies. She sometimes felt dirty when she got pleasure out of listening to Ginny speak about Harry, and many times she had to excuse herself in order to keep her emotions under control. Ginny would run after her many times, wondering what was wrong, but Hermione always claimed to Ginny that it was nothing.

She said this, she claimed to herself, for Harry.

---

"Hermione," Ginny called quietly from outside on day early in Hermione's sixth year. "May I speak with you for a moment?"

"Sure, come on it," the brunette replied, turning to the next page in her Transfigurations book. "But why on earth aren't you at Hogsmeade tonight? I thought you were going with Dean?"

Ginny shifted uncomfortably. "Well, I was, but I really needed to talk to you about something. I've been meaning to for a really long time, but I was never quite sure how to go about saying it."

Hermione shot her a funny expression. "Just spit it out."

The redhead scratched her head. "Well...I sort of need a...a love potion."

"A love potion?" Hermione repeated, scooting to the edge of her quilted bed. "What on earth do you need a love potion for?"

Ginny flushed. "Well seeing as things are as they are, Hermione..." the red-haired girl began, chancing a look at the picture of Harry, Ron, and Hermione that was on Hermione's nightstand. "Hermione, you know I've been mad about Harry since I met him. And, well, he's going through some difficult times now. What with Sirius having died and everything...he's just not healthy anymore. He can't deal with this alone. But he isn't going to let anybody get really close to him now. We need to help him. And we need to help him now."

Hermione shook her head in disbelief. "And how in Merlin's name will a love potion accomplish that?"

But then it struck her like a mallet striking a stake. Hermione gasped, and stared at Ginny, speaking weakly. "Are you mad? Not only is that completely and totally illegal, it's morally wrong! Further, how in the world would making you his girlfriend be the solution?"

"Because," Ginny concluded, "I can open him up. Once I'm his girlfriend, he'll have the support he needs to stay strong. Hermione's he's battling for his very life now..." She stopped and looked the brown-eyed girl diametrically in the eyes. "It's time for all of us to put our selfish feelings aside and do what's best for Harry."

It took a moment for Hermione to absorb the implication of the words. "You're joking right? Ron put you up to this, didn't he? He wants me to look like a sodding fool..."

But no joke lay in Ginny Weasley's eyes. "You fancy Harry, Hermione. I know it. You know it. Even a small, very deep part of Ron knows it. He tries to ignore it with all his might, but sometimes it gets the better of him. He's ever so jealous."

"Does Harry know?" Hermione whispered anxiously.

"Not a chance," Ginny retorted. "Like I said, he's been under so much stress lately that he wouldn't be able to tell the difference between a Quaffle and the Snitch. Listen Hermione," Ginny sat down on the comforter next to Hermione, and grabbed her hands. "People half expect Harry and me to date at some point. Nobody is going to suspect a love potion's involvement. But you..." Ginny stopped. "Hermione, he's never shown any interest in you outside of friendship. And you like Ron, so everything works out perfectly! You must understand that. With me, there's always been the chance. Everyone knows I'm crazy about Harry, and above all, it makes sense. He's practically a Weasley already. Dating me only solidifies it."

Hermione's body sat calmly for a moment as her mind spun nearly out of control with questions. Why was she even considering this? Why didn't she just tell Ginny to go away and to kindly not tell anybody that she was madly in love with Harry Potter while she was at it? Why? WHY?

She wanted to cry, wanted to scream, wanted to hurt Ginny for even daring to make the suggestion, but she couldn't because, deep down inside, she feared Ginny was right, and who was Hermione to deny Harry a piece of mind?

"Fine," Hermione murmured quietly, holding back tears that threatened to fall. "It'll take me awhile to finish it, you must understand. But it'll be done soon. I promise."

---

She watched as Harry put the love-potion spiked pumpkin juice to his lips three months later, and watched as the orange liquid entered his mouth. She noticed his hand tighten around the goblet until his dirty nails scraped against the metal. When he put the goblet down, he had a funny expression flitting across his handsome face, something between confusion and ecstasy.

"Feeling alright Harry?" Ron asked, looking the boy straight in the eyes.

"Fine," he replied, shaking his head and looking strangely at Ginny Weasley. "Absolutely fine."

---

Knock. Knock.

"Yes?"

"Ginny, can I come in?" Hermione's muffled voice called from behind Ginny's room door.

"Yes, of course," Ginny replied as she picked at a scab on her hand. Thankfully, it was the only injury she had received from the final battle with the Dark Lord. "Just push the door open."

Hermione walked in irritably, her arms folded across her plump breasts.

"Are you alright?" Ginny asked cautiously.

"I'll be frank, Ginny," Hermione started, dropping her hands to her sides. "It's high time you stopped giving Harry the love potion."

"I won't give it up," Ginny countered as she fingered the picture of herself and Harry on her nightstand. "He may have won the War, but he's still torn inside. He needs me more now than ever, Hermione. He needs someone to put the pieces of his life back together."

Hermione forced herself to stay calm. "When is this going to end, Ginny? WHEN? When he's old and wizened beyond repair? Or when you finally get bored with him?"

"It's not like that, you bloody well know!" the redhead snapped. "He really does love me. He even asked me to marry him today." Ginny stuck out her hand, showing her the exquisitely crafted engagement band on her ring finger. "He did it right after dinner. He took me aside and said that there was nothing more he wanted than to make me his wife."

Hermione flushed with anger. "How can you even consider marrying him, Ginny? Don't you understand? He loves you because of the potion, nothing else! You can't do this to him! He deserves to find his own happiness! It might even be you! But it might be someone else, and you have to accept that!"

Ginny shook her head, her eyes blazing. "I don't need you anymore, you know. I can make the potion all by myself. You're useless to me now. I don't need you."

"Ginny, just think for a moment what you're doing to Harry..."

"I think you should go Hermione," Ginny spat back.

Hermione turned toward the door, her brunette locks flaring behind her. "You said it was for Harry, Ginny. It isn't anymore, is it?"

---

She let Ron hold her hand that evening as they lay in the flickering lights of the Weasley's family room. She felt a slight guilt creep into her body as she looked at the way Ron adored her, the way that he would do anything to keep her safe from harm. For the last six months they had dated, fulfilling the picture-perfect image of an extended Weasley family that the wizarding society so craved after the death and devastation the War had brought.

She wanted to vomit the feelings of guilt away, purge it from her body like she had tried to purge her love for Harry, but she was immobile as he pulled a single box from underneath him.

"Hermione," Ron started quietly, gazing out the windows of the Burrow. "I know that Harry just proposed to Ginny. And I know...I know that somewhere inside you loved Harry. I've...always sort of known. I just didn't really accept it. And we've been together so long, and I hope that somehow you got over him. I hope that maybe you finally realized that he and Ginny are meant to be. He loves her so much, Hermione. I can just see it in his eyes when he looks at her. It's pure, what they have. It's untainted."

Hermione smiled ruefully, and kissed his cheek, wanting to scream out to the whole world that the last thing the love that Ginny and Harry shared was untainted.

Ron moved off the couch and knelt on the floor. "And I hope that you have figured out that we're meant to be together. Because when you look at me, I know that you love me. I can feel it. And I hope you realize how much I love and need you, Hermione. There's nobody I'd rather spend the rest of my life with."

His index finger pulled back the cover of the box to reveal a small diamond ring in the center. It gleamed in the low light of the fire, and Hermione gasped in spite herself.

"Hermione Granger...will you marry me?"

"Oh Ron..."

His blue eyes fell as he saw the uncertainty in her eyes.

"Yes." She smiled and laughed until her ears hurt. "Of course."

"Can I...will you let me..." his voice trailed off nervously, and she could feel the pounding of his blood through his hand.

"Can you what, Ron?" she whispered back.

"May I...please..."

"Oh!" she whispered, half-surprised. "Oh, yes. Of course. I love you Ron."

She heard the words leave her mouth before she could take it back. Inside, her stomach flipped and her heart sank as Ron's eyes began filling with small tears of happiness. She forced herself to smile, and to exhale as Ron's lips met her own in a sweet, tender kiss.

"I love you so much," he mumbled as his fingers ran through her hair and his nose bumped hers. "I've always loved you, I think. I just never really knew it until last year. I love you..."

He said it over and over again as he kissed her. She kissed him back with all the passion and pent-up frustration in her soul over the boy with the dark hair and flashing green eyes, and she found herself lost in the kiss that she imagined was coming from Harry and not the boy in front of her.

"I love you," she whispered back as his arms wove around her and his fingers fumbled with the buttons on the back of her dress.

It was all for Harry, after all.

---