Happy

Happy

Hermione stood with her fingertips pressed against the glass window-front of what used to be Ollivander's. She closed her eyes when the vision of her 11 year-old self buying her first wand materialized in the neglected shop space in front of her. She remembered her excitement, curiosity and anticipation for entering this world. She knew that this where she belonged--finally.

She needed to see the positive parts of her life again, and she supposed this is what fueled this late-night walk down Diagon Alley.

She was alone--without the two most important people in her life--at once understanding and bewildered by their absence. But more than the physicality of her being alone, she felt alone. She felt alone on the inside.

Hermione walked on, seeing shadows of herself at 12, 13, 14 and so on appear and disappear around this familiar street. She walked alone with her hands in her pockets and her head slightly bowed from the weight of her thoughts.

She had loved him. Oh, how she had loved him. And, even now, looking back, she has no idea if he loved her, too. She had spent her life with Ron, but now he was off with Harry, reveling in youthful bachelorhood.

Having finally come together the summer after their sixth year, she felt the happiness of being with Ron mending the sadness of losing Dumbledore and finally easing the void she felt after being left by Viktor.

No one knew that part. It was assumed by many that Hermione and Viktor's romance had fizzled because of her disinterest. It was rumored that Hermione loved another, and was happy to remain friends with Viktor, never really wanting more from him than the first kiss she had already received.

But Hermione knew the truth. She knew that the long letters she had penned by Gryffindor's fireplace always went unanswered. As soon as Viktor had returned to professional Quidditch, he quickly lost interest in Hermione. Her letters got lost in the mountains of fanmail he received daily, and she was relegated from enigmatic spit-fire at Hogwarts to just another fan-girl.

No one else knew this because she was too proud and too embarrassed to admit to anyone that, to Viktor, she just didn't matter anymore. She just wasn't enough to hold his attention.

So, when Ron finally took notice and gave her the affection she so desperately wanted and needed, she was finally happy again. Hermione gave Ron all the best parts of herself. She loved all the things about him--even the parts about him she didn't actually like, like his jealousy or wandering eye.

Hermione knew, though. She knew in the back of her mind--she was too smart not to have figured it out. Timelines didn't add up in his explanations, the feeling of distance between them, the numbers of other girls written in curly script on random scraps of paper on his desk--she saw and felt it all; she cheerfully ignored everything.

But that was all after the--what she thought--glorious time they had together at the beginning: talking, laughing, reading, sitting, watching, kissing, not talking....There were Sunday mornings spent laughing and wrestling when she would look at him smiling at her, and she would know that she could do this forever.

She gave him all the best parts of her, and for a while, she thought he gave her all the best parts of him, too.

Maybe he did. Hermione could never understand what he thought or felt, and, in hindsight, she was of two minds about the situation. When she started noticing the phone numbers and strange owls, she noticed his restlessness. At first, she thought she knew what was going on: She knew that he loved her and that, maybe, it scared him. So, Hermione decided to work through it. She even felt herself changing--struggling to be the girl she thought he wanted. And when he told her he couldn't do it anymore, she was hurt, but not shocked. Ron went on to blather something about being too young, needing more experience from life and not wanting to have to be responsible to anyone. He had been seeing other girls and still needed to know what was out there for him. All this, along with some of the most hurtful things she'd ever heard about how she was 'always around' and he didn't want to put up with it anymore. Ron had screamed the last part of this at her, as though releasing a fury he had been feeling for a while. The red-headed temper she used to love was what ended her infatuation for him. His raised voice shattered any illusions she'd had, and she thought that she had moved on fairly easily. After all, how could she still love a man who had screamed at her like all of his insecurities were all her fault?

What amazed Hermione was that she hadn't broken when it was all said and done. She simply went on. Thankfully, she had started a new job at the Ministry, and that provided distraction. Between all of her new duties and meeting so many new people, she hadn't had much time to feel lonely. Eventually, the loneliness did come, though. When the first stabs of emptiness started, she reached out to the person she knew would understand her the best: Harry.

Harry had been just as taken aback by Ron's sudden release of Hermione, but he understood better. Harry understood Ron's need to strike out on his own--make his own name and do his own thing. He knew that explanation would not help Hermione. It was possible that it would only make her feel worse. She never asked for explanation, not wanting to hear for fact why she wasn't enough for Ron.

Hermione turned the corner to her building. She climbed the stairs, and let herself into the flat. After making herself a cup of hot tea, she sat on her couch in the empty room and gave in to the memories that had been boiling just under the surface.

The revival of Harry and Hermione's friendship rekindled the glow in her life. She had forgotten just how much fun they used to have together as friends at Hogwarts--battles with Lord Voldemort not withstanding.

Harry and Hermione went out to eat, went on long walks, owled each other bad jokes, and spent lots of time laughing together. Hermione felt herself healing again. She felt like she could breathe again.

Prompted to celebrate by her new-found rejuvenation, Harry and Hermione hit the local pub. The two old friends never stopped laughing as they drank firewhiskey after firewhiskey and danced like no one was watching. The band spun out fast number after fast number, and Harry and Hermione gave them a run for their money as to who was entertaining the crowd more.

When the band finally played a slow song, they breathed sighs of relief, thankful for the break from dancing, and made their way back to the table. They sat in companionable silence, people-watching and drinking their newest round of firewhiskeys.

Harry and Hermione took turns pointing out the odd-looking witches and wizards in the pub: the guys trying too hard to impress the girls, the girls too shy to talk to the guys. Their heads bowed to whisper and laugh confidentially, they brushed cheeks occasionally in fits of giggles.

At one point, Hermione looked up at Harry's mirthful face and saw the happiness shining in his eyes. She realized, gratefully, that she was happy, too. She was genuinely happy and it was all because of Harry. Harry had made her happy again.

Harry noticed that Hermione had stopped laughing and asked her what was wrong. She answered him honestly, looking straight into his eyes.

"You make me so happy."

Hermione smiled again and leaned forward. She kissed Harry.

Too shocked to respond at first, Harry did nothing, but soon he was running his fingers through her hair and kissing her back. They spent the rest of the evening smiling, laughing, and kissing, giddily unable to keep their hands off each other.

They never lost physical contact--always holding hands, touching the other's arm or hip or small of the back. They entwined themselves dancing, sitting and walking. Hermione believed she even went to sleep with a smile on her face that night, so happy to finally be happy with someone who, never mind the redundancy, made her happy again.

Harry and Hermione spent the next few weeks smiling, laughing and kissing each other--enamored of the other and soaking up all the happiness they could. One night, cuddled together in a single armchair, Hermione quietly asked Harry what he told Ron he was doing while he was actually out with her.

"I tell him that I am out with a girl. He doesn't question who. I think he thinks that I am like him--happy dating random girls from random pubs."

"Is that, I mean, is he happy? Dating other girls?" Hermione asked quietly.

"Seems to be."

"Are you happy?"

"Absolutely."

"And you don't think that what we're doing is wrong? To him, I mean. Dating behind his back?"

Harry sat quietly, not looking at Hermione.

"He didn't want to be with you anymore. It was his choice, right? So, I think that we have a right to do what we want," Harry replied delicately, still not looking at her. "I think we should tell him eventually, though."

"As do I."

"So...one day we will. But not now." He kissed her on her forehead, and they went back to sitting contentedly, trying to be as close to each other as physically possible.