AN: This is AU. A bit angsty, but this is what my muses came up with. Enjoy. As always, I don't own HP. I'm not JKR. I have no beta, so any spelling and or grammar mistakes are purely my own.
She waited in the dark for him to come home. Held onto the burning cigarette between her fingers. Watched the end glow bright red in the dark room. The smoke rose and curled around her as she sat in the worn armchair. It was fraying in places but was comfortable. Just what she needed. Her mind ran at full speed as she thought about what the detective brought her while she was cleaning the house. Her fingers crushed the burning cigarette into the ashtray as another hour passed. She wondered how long she would have to wait before he finally came home.
She reached for another cigarette. Holding it in the palm of her hand, she rolled it back and forth. Her eyes darted to the one she'd crushed out. She had let it burn in her fingers, but yearned to take a pull from the end. Smoking was her one vice when she was stressed. It was the one thing she couldn't turn too now. Setting the unlit cigarette on the table, she pulled the small yellow envelope towards her. She pulled out the pictures, the letters and other evidence. Her heart clenched in her chest tightly and tears pricked the corner of her eyes as she gazed down at the pictures. He was laughing with her. Smiling. He had his arm around her in one photo and the woman in question gave him a dazzling smile.
Her letters to him were filled with love and affection, full of hope for what their future would be, if only he could be rid of her. His wife. She remembered how she felt when she took the packet from the detective. He'd handed her the small packet, and she handed him a small envelope. He'd placed it in the pocket of his coat and asked her what she hoped to accomplish by reading what was contained within. She didn't know then, and even now, after reading the copies of the letters, after seeing the pictures, she still didn't know. All she knew was the facts. And her hurt crept around her heart like overgrown vines did on an abandoned house. Her love was like that house, slowly getting more and more choked out the longer she read the letters, the longer she gazed at the photos.
Finally, the door opened and he stepped in. He was quiet as he turned to shut the door. He paused a moment, and she knew he hadn't yet seen her seated in the chair. She reached out and flicked her wand toward the lamp nearest him. The living room of the cottage they shared was awash in soft light. The light shone on the space they shared. Pictures littered the walls and knick knacks scattered around on the tables. His emerald eyes landed on her, seated in the chair.
His eyes, always so expressive, showed his surprise. "Grace, what are you doing awake?"
She let out a soft sigh. Watched him as he took a seat in the chair next to her. He slipped off his shoes, and slid his arms out of his robe. He tossed the robe over to the couch.
Finally she said, "How was work?"
He grunted softly as he sat further back in the chair. "Work was fine. Hermione and I finally made some way into finding some of the rogue Death Eaters."
Her heart clenched in her chest at the name. Hermione. She glanced down at the pictures in her hands, at the letters she held. She was beautiful. Much prettier than Grace.
She cleared her throat, "So, I got this today. I think we need to talk Harry."
And she handed the pictures and letters over to him. Her fingers brushed his in the transfer, and she no longer felt the spark that normally accompanied such an action. She wasn't sure if it was because she was still in shock, or if she was too angry.
His eyes widened with surprise. He flipped through each letter, each picture. She noted his hands were shaking as he set the papers on the coffee table.
His voice was shaking as he said, "Who gave this to you Grace?"
Grace was surprised her voice was steady as she answered, "Detective Anderson. He works in the United States. He came highly recommended when Pansy Parkinson suggested I employ his services. Said it was amazing what those American wizarding detectives could dig up."
Harry let out a huge sigh, twisted the gold wedding ring he wore on his left hand.
Finally, he spoke, "How long have you known?"
Grace's voice was soft, "Today. He finished today. Brought it by as I was cleaning."
Silence reigned between them. Finally, she asked the question she'd been wondering for months.
"Why? Why Hermione? Was I not good enough for you Harry?" Grace was surprised to hear her voice break at the last question. She felt the tears sliding down her face, but didn't register them.
Harry looked uncomfortable. She knew him, knew he was trying to figure out his thoughts. What he would say.
"I don't know Grace. It just happened. It shouldn't have, but it did. It was a mistake." Harry's voice was quiet, but carried a firm resolve in it. He truly did regret what he was doing.
Grace kept her voice firm, "It needs to stop. Now. Break it off."
Harry kept his eyes low, but she knew he understood. If word got out, it would be a nightmare for all involved. She saw him wince, and figured he was imagining the public's reaction if they found out.
He opened his mouth to say something, she wasn't sure what.
She cut him off smoothly, setting her hands on her stomach. "Harry, I'm pregnant."
His eyes flew up to her brown ones. Shock and surprise registered in those emerald eyes. They'd been trying for months for a baby with no success. It figured that as soon as they stopped trying, she was pregnant.
Harry rose from the armchair and reached out to pull her up. She let him, stood quietly as he lifted the edge of her tank top, as his fingers slipped over the slightly rounded swell of her stomach.
"How far along?" The question was spoken softly, as his lips were mere inches from her stomach.
Grace kept her voice soft, "4 months. The doctors think it might be a boy."
Harry's eyes filled with tears as he gazed up at his wife, "a boy? A son?"
Grace nodded. Harry's eyes fell back to her stomach and he rose. His fingers stayed pressed gently on the soft flesh.
His eyes locked with hers. "I'm sorry Grace. Forgive me?"
Grace sighed, "It's going to take a while Harry. Trust is easily broken, hard to repair."
Harry nodded. He embraced her, his arms tight around her. Harry pressed his lips to hers softly.
She watched him walk towards the fireplace, watched him grab a handful of floo powder. She shifted her weight as he tossed it into the fire with an easy grace. He yelled out the name of Hermione's flat and poked his head through.
Grace watched him as he spoke to her. She heard the anxious tone Hermione used and watched her husband turn back around. He met her eyes for a second and she nodded. He reached out his hand and pulled the other witch through the fire. Hermione's eyes landed on Grace and she gave the other witch a soft smile.
"Grace, its wonder-" Hermione's voice died out as she spotted the letters and pictures still scattered on the table.
Hermione drew herself up with that quiet strength that had been so useful to her during the war and leveled her gaze at Grace.
"I'm not going to apologize, if that's what you are looking for. And don't make Harry choose between us. I'm afraid you won't like the outcome." Her eyes were steely, her voice hard.
Harry turned his attention to the woman who had been his best friend since he'd been 11 and Grace watched as he told her, in his own way, that their relationship was over. He wasn't leaving his wife. He couldn't afford the scandal, and he wasn't about to give up. That wasn't his style.
Grace watched Hermione's eyes fill with tears, watched as the man she'd come to love told her he honestly regretted what they were doing. Her eyes were full of confusion as Harry told her he still loved his wife. How he couldn't leave her now. This was his chance to make things right and he wasn't going to blow that.
Hermione's eyes darted from Harry to where Grace stood. Grace placed her fingers on her stomach and Hermione's eyes widened.
Her voice was breathless, "Grace is pregnant."
Harry nodded. "I don't love you Hermione. I don't know if I ever did. I wanted to find some kind of release from the failure I was having in my marriage. That was wrong. Grace didn't deserve this. She's willing to forgive me, in time. I need to be a good father for my children. I can't continue this anymore."
Hermione rose, anger radiating off her in waves. " This is wrong. I love you Harry."
Her eyes pleaded with him, and he walked over where I stood. His eyes held a quiet strength. "I'm sorry Hermione, but I don't love you."
Hermione reached for the floo, went to leave. Her eyes landed back on where he stood with me. She was at war with herself. Finally, she spoke: " Congratulations."
Harry and I stood in the dark living room. Neither one of us spoke. Harry reached out and picked up the letters and pictures and tossed them in the dying flames of the fire. The flames roared up a bright orange as they consumed the evidence of his affair with Hermione. Once they were ashes, Harry reached out his hand and pulled me up the stairs to the bedroom we shared. I knew it would take a long time for me to forgive him. I knew, in some part of my mind, that I loved him. I knew that a natural reaction would have been to leave. But I couldn't leave.
I made a vow. In sickness and in health, through all walks of life. Til death do us part. Like Harry, I wasn't about to give up so easily.