To Love Someone

January 12, 2001...it was the most perfect day of her life, Hermione thought. Ron stood before her swaying in time to the music.

He held her close and whispered in her ear, "I always thought you looked stunning in white, but you've outdone yourself today."

She blushed and tried to draw closer to Ron. They were married. She had been waiting so long for this. He was hers in every way now. She sighed contentedly into his arms.

"May I have this dance?"

Hermione looked up into Harry's face and then Ron's. She saw something pass through Ron's eyes that looked almost like jealousy, but he quickly smiled at Harry.

"Just make sure you give her back; we have a busy day tomorrow."

A hurt look flitted across Harry's features, but he smiled back. He took Hermione's hand in his own and placed his other hand on her lower back as they began to dance.

"Congratulations, Hermione," he said to her.

"Thank you, Harry." She paused, then, "I'm sorry it didn't work Harry. I do love you, but..."

Harry interrupted, "I know. I love you too. But I knew it wouldn't work out. We're too...alike. You needed someone who would force you to stop working and look outside every now and then. I knew I couldn't give you everything you needed. It's better this way. I'm happy for you both." He did not look at her as he spoke, but she knew he meant it, even if it hurt him.

At the end of the night, Harry saw them both to the Muggle car which would take them to a nearby airport for their flight to Greece. He gave them both a great hug and said, "I want you to know I will always be here for you two. I have no hard feelings. I know this is how it's supposed to be. I love you both." He winked and continued, "Have fun tonight."

He left the two of them contemplating his backside as he walked inside. Shrugging, they kissed and moved into the car in preparation for their honeymoon week. Both were glad in their hearts for Harry and his friendship. They had hoped that he would be ok with this whole situation eventually. They hadn't expected him to recover so quickly! She had only broken up with him eight months before. But she loved what he did for them. She truly loved Harry...and Ron.

Smiling, she kissed her husband and readied herself mentally for their honeymoon. She was giddy like a school girl.

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The meetings of the Order were far from satisfying. At every turn, they were thwarted by You-Know-Who. Never blatantly: the jabs and digs were always very subtle and very effective. Morale was low.

Hagrid was still away, trying to convince the Giants to join their cause. Personally, Hermione hoped that at the very least they would stay neutral: the giants could be devastating. Sirius was constantly on the move, searching for something or another that Dumbledore thought of. Everyone was busy.

She and Bill were constantly working, beating their heads futilely against the curses. While they had made headway into the Cruciatus Curse, the effort was simply not enough yet. Bill was haggard and disappointed, blaming his lack of ability for their stalemate. She comforted him with the knowledge that they were not, by far, the first to attempt this.

As far as the Imperius Curse went, it was decided that only strength of will could turn it. They practiced daily, each member of the Order testing the others with the Curse to build up willpower. Bill thought they should simply find a way to detect the curse instead of deflect it. Hermione agreed.

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At home, the Order was never spoken of. Hermione forbade it. She wanted only Ron in their house; not work, only Ron. They spent their evenings and nights together in silence and comfort. Ron would play chess against himself, leaning his back against Hermione's leg as she read on the couch. They made love passionately. This was their life. Ron was her life. She loved him madly.

They dreamed of children. They argued about them. Ron wanted them but Hermione could not bear to think of children in today's world.

"Let's wait," she would say.

He would only nod sadly and fold his arms about her, tucking her head under his chin.

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The years passed, overwhelmingly the same. There was no progress from the Order. You-Know-Who was moving slowly but surely forward. Word came that Hagrid had been murdered. You-Know-Who had possessed the giants' alliance and they, in turn, had slain Hagrid to show their agreement. More members were murdered. Each loss lowered the Order into the shadowy depths of grief and despair.

The Order wept and invariably moved on. What else could they do? To give up meant to accept the horrible life You-Know-Who would impose. They would never give up, the Order would continue until it died.

'Fools.'