Wait and Hope

Wait and Hope

"All human wisdom is contained in these two words 'wait and hope.'" -Edmond Dante, "The Count Of Monte Cristo"

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Friday evening found he deep in thought, thinking about what I didn't know. She was always thinking, her wide eyes brimmed with knowledge and something else. It was arguable what exactly it was that only her eyes betrayed. Some said it was maturity, others said hope, a few said passion. I preferred to believe the latter of the three. She had always been so lively and vivacious, but that was before he died.

She'd known it was inevitable, everyone had. His plights were legendary and heroes always had tragic deaths. She wanted so much for them to be happy together, and believe it or not so did I. To the public, their romance seemed to come out of those muggle novels, harlequins I think they're called. It was as if they were meant for each other, and it would last forever. Forever is too long; even she must've known that.

After he died I though to myself wait and hope, just as I had on their wedding day. One day I hoped, she would be mine. When he died she changed though, all the passion seemed to die along with him. Only I disagreed, I waited and gave her wounds time to heal. I held my belief that the passion was there, lurking underneath the surface, just waiting to be released. I know if I keep hoping I'll be the one to rekindle the passion and make her love again. However I've been waiting a long time and I'm still the best friend, the other man.

She still smiles but the smiles are seldom and sweet. In those precious moments you can see her eyes shine. They are beautiful, those eyes, beautiful and unique. I wonder if I'll ever be able to look into those eyes like he did, and know that her smiles are for me. She is concentrating on me now, studying my features, and despite my age I feel a familiar blush creep up my cheeks. I've never been good at reading women, my brothers could tell you that. However, as she looks at me I think she's comparing me to him. I know I can't measure up to the great man he became, but I can still love her the way she yearns to be loved. I banish these thoughts quickly and I rise to leave.

"Leaving so soon?" Her voice betrays what her eyes will not; I realize that she wants me to stay.

"I can spare a few more minutes for you, as always." I say with a smile and I sit back down.

She smiles and turns her head to look out the window, "And I for you."

We hear music playing from across the ward; it's the weird sisters. Suddenly I feel like I'm a fourth year again, sitting across the great hall watching her dance to this song, and wishing I was the one making her laugh. I meet her gaze and for the first time in years I see her eyes sparkle mischievously as they did back at Hogwarts. Without warning she gets out of the hospital bed, the alarm must've shown in my face but she persists on walking toward me. She leans forward and proffers a wrinkled hand.

"You know you never got up the nerve to ask me to the Yule ball?"

"I know you were with him remember?"

"I'm not anymore." She said with a smile. I swallowed nervously; I'm too old for this stuff. It's now or never I realized.

"Ms. Granger may I have this dance?"

"You read my mind Mr. Weasley, I've waited half a century to hear you say that." I took her hand and we began to dance, I never felt better. We danced long after the music stopped and if I believed in angels I would've sworn Harry was there smiling at us. I'd like to think he was, if anyone ever rivaled my love for Hermione it was him.

There are two words I like to live by, wait and hope. It is my belief that if you wait and hope long enough you will always end up fulfilling your dreams. Harry was always more if a "seize the day" kinda guy, but look where that got him. Now as I look into Hermione's eyes I see two things, knowledge and blast, what's the word? Ah yes, hope, and what a good word it is.