What No Words Could Ever Do
By: HeartofSummer
Genre: Harry Potter - Harmony, of course.
Story: Harry and Hermione are left alone with the children during the vacation. They haven't really been just the two of them in years, actually... 18 to be exact. And one moment changes everything.
"It was like a foul trick of fate, this song, this dance, this moment."
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"Are you sure we shouldn't all go?" Harry insisted, looking at his wife. Her mouth twitched into a small smile, but her eyes were determined.
"No, it wouldn't be fair on the children. It's not like the whole family will walk around in her ghostly living room anyhow. Besides, I can take a few days away from you." She shot an annoyed glance at Fleur who was hanging by her husband's arm, talking rapidly in French to her daughter Victoire. The young, blonde girl was nodding and repeatedly saying:
"Yes mum. Uhu. Of course." She looked embarrassed at all the French and gave her dad a pleading look. He smiled at her and leaned over to his wife to calm her down.
"I trust Harry and Hermione completely, dear. We don't have to worry about her. Now do we?" He looked over at Harry, who nodded and smiled.
"Of course not!" Hermione said firmly. "She'll be perfectly fine. Besides, the Potter house is huge. We don't have to worry about places for sleeping and we'd be absolutely thrilled to have her."
"Now, everything's packed." Ron came with two pink, bulging bags. "The faster we get this over with, the faster we can be back to enjoying our family vacation."
"Speaking of, poor George. He's still working hard at the shop. I'm guessing he'll have to close it up for a few days." Ginny sighed. Somehow she seemed a bit more annoyed than compassionate. Lily put her little, jet black head on tilt.
"Will Sara be there?" She looked hopefully at her dad. Ginny didn't exactly approve of George and Angelina's short haired daughter. While Lily was born in December, Sara had been born in the beginning of February that same year, so they'd start Hogwarts together. She was from an earlier relationship of Angelina's. The two now had one 5 year old boy called Simon and was expecting another one in late September. Angelina was huge.
Sara was just like the teenage version of Fred and George during that age, so you can imagine. She was interested in Quidditch and magical creatures, two things that made Harry like the idea of Lily spending time with her.
He often got the impression that Ginny forced her opinions on their youngest daughter. She was the only girl and therefore his wife had very high expectations of her. He agreed that he wanted the best for his daughter, but he wanted her to spend time with the people she liked. Hugo loved Sara too since she was more of a boyish girl, but when Sara got to choose, it was often their Lily who came first.
Harry realized that Ginny probably thought that Sara might find Lily interesting for other reasons than as a friend. Harry just shrugged when he thought about it. Dumbledore, one of the greatest men he had ever met in his life, had been interested in the same sex. He did not bother dwelling over such trivial things – and besides, they were still 9. Love was love, he realized. He could not discuss this with Ron though, since he was quick to shudder and judge. Harry knew he didn't mean it like that. He just didn't understand what it really meant. Well, neither did Harry. But maybe one day quite soon he would have to.
Hermione kissed Ron's cheek, Fleur gave Victoire a smothering hug, Ginny took Lily's hand as soon as Harry had gotten his goodbye smooches and with a wave of Bill's wand, they apparated away.
"Finally!" Victoire sighed and went straight into the house while Harry laughed at her.
The Weasley's grandmother had met a sudden death. Apparently she'd been in the middle of one of her favorite things; yelling at her neighbors' giant tortoise when she'd suddenly gotten a heart attack and died, on the spot. At least, as Ron had said, she'd been perfectly happy at the time.
Molly was devastated though. It was her mom after all. The old lady had been saving all sorts of old rubbish and had a huge house, so she and Arthur needed help cleaning it up. The children had been called in for emotional support and muscles.
"How about dinner?" Harry turned to Hermione with a small smile. He looked tired too. He'd been up all night with Ginny packing. After all these years he still couldn't see why she needed half of her wardrobe, curling iron, cookbook, her broomstick and 5 pairs of shoes to make it through a few days. But she was a woman and women are curious creatures, Harry knew that. One thing he'd learned was not to ask anymore.
"Chicken?" Hermione smiled, leading the way to the bright, white kitchen. Their summer house was located on the edge of the beach. In a way this was the wizard version of the Isle of White. It was the perfect holiday location with long white beaches with a magical boarder that made muggles see nothing but a far stretching dessert of nothingness. They had everything you would want here. Shops, amusement parks, an endless amount of pools and restaurants – all traditionally magic, of course. There was even a guy who had hippalektryon (magical creature that have the front half of a hoarse and the back part of a rooster) rides along the beach in sunsets and the early mornings. Their feathers and flank always reflected in the most amazing shades of blue, green, yellow and bronze. They were really quite lovely creatures but sometimes if you didn't give them an apple after a ride, they'd peck you with their sharp mule. They wouldn't be too happy if they heard someone was preparing their smaller cousins for a meal.
What Hermione conveniently always ignored was how bad she was at cooking. When Harry had put the children in front of Diary of a Wimpy Kid, he found her in the kitchen, looking at a big yellow onion with a confused look.
"Hermione?" Hermione looked up, and then back at the onion.
"How am I supposed to get this onion into the chicken without using magic? Cut it open?" She shook her head so that her ponytailed curls jumped around her face. Harry tried hard not to laugh.
"The beauty about having a whole roasted chicken is that you don't actually have to cut the bird." Her leaned into her, took the onion and cut it in half. Then he shoved it up its butt.
Hermione gave him a surprised, slightly disgusted look.
"That's how it gets in there?" This time he had to laugh.
"Why don't you get me the best wine you can find, and I'll show you how this works." He winked at her, and Hermione put her elbow into his ribs.
"Stop being so smug, Potter. I don't usually cook roasted chicken. Ron can do the basics, and we eat at Molly's or yours at least twice a week. Besides, M&S does great recipes. All you have to do is put the thing in the oven and you've got a meal."
While talking she took out two giant wine glasses and found a bottle that looked Italian. Filling the glasses up, she studied Harry as he put his apron on, washing his hands and starting to hum as he went around the kitchen.
"M&S is great. But they don't do roasted chicken like this, believe me. First what you need to know," he started, "is that sausages does well inside a chicken. It's ideal for stuffing, really, and the apples should go in as well. Along with some garlic. It's also nice to just put some garlic cloves around the chicken on the outside. It's simple, tasty. Then, when you've shoved it all in there, you put some olive oil on the back, and some thyme, salt and pepper, and you rub it in. Like giving it a massage."
He talked like a professional TV chef. It annoyed Hermione, but at the same time it was great seeing him working like this. His big hands on the two chickens, his mouth moving evenly and the smell of garlic and thyme mixed with the wine in their glasses.
She went up to him, gave him his and took a sip of her own, smiling secretly. Ginny was the lady of the kitchen, but she could tell he loved this. It made him so calm, somehow.
"After that," he said, washing his hands, drying them off on his apron and taking a swig from his wine, "They're ready to be put in the oven. Simple as that."
Hermione shook her head.
"Seems like a bit of challenge to me." Harry grinned.
"Well, I am the chosen one." She hit his arm playfully.
"Oh, shut it. Now, what else should I do?"
"Well," Harry said thoughtfully. "You could always… peel the potatoes. Do you think you can do that?"
Hermione shot him a challenging look.
"Of course I can! That, I know how to do!" Harry laughed.
"Without the wand?" She smiled.
"I'll do my best."
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"Woaw, I can't fit in so much as bean! I'm so full!" Albus had his hand on his swollen stomach. Hermione smiled kindly at him.
"I still can't believe we ate two whole chickens," Harry said, munching on the little bits left on a leg. "Even the mash. Even the beans!" The green beans were really the most surprising of all. But then again, everything goes down with some nice melted butter on top.
"They were so buttery," Albus continued, looking dreamy. "Mum never allows us to butter our veggies." Hermione smiled.
"Well, this is a special occasion. Just don't tell her." The two Potter boys nodded happily.
"Wow, keeping secrets. I like it," James grinned, putting his red head on the side. Rose snickered. "Mommy, can you cook this again?" Hermione sighed, happily full of warm food as well.
"Mhm, I'll do my best." With that, Rose looked pleased.
"Now, I'll make you guys a fruit plate, and you can have half an hour of TV time before bed. Okay?"
"Can we have ice cream?" James asked hopefully narrowing his bright blue eyes. All the children's faces were turned towards Hermione, even Ted and Victoire who had been looking at nothing but each other all night.
Harry snickered. Hermione hesitated slightly, then she shrugged.
"If you all put you plates away and have a fruit first, knock yourselves out."
A small eruption happened around the table as they all tried to get to the sink and the fruit bowl as quickly as humanly possible without apparating.
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"I was right," Harry said as he entered the kitchen. Hermione looked over her shoulder from where she was manually doing the dishes. She loved magic, but some things she still preferred doing the muggle way. Harry came up to her and leaned against the side of the sink before finishing his sentence.
"…they were impossible to get to bed after all that sugar. But I succeeded!"
Hermione smiled as she turned back to the plates, soap up to her elbows. "I never doubted you."
"Well, the trick is to make them think I wanna hang out with them to miss out on all of the dishes and grown up stuff."
"The truth, you mean?" Hermione chuckled. Harry shot her a flirty glance over the side of his glasses that Hermione pretended to miss.
"I'm wounded, Miss Granger. That you would think of me as such a lowly ranking person… Anyway! They got so tired of me saying I didn't wanna go to sleep and that I wanted to tell them all of my secrets and mishaps, that they realized they wouldn't get their privacy unless I thought they were already asleep. Brilliant, aren't I?"
"I wouldn't call it that, but I bet it was effective." Harry nodded.
"Very. Only 20 minutes after I started working it, they were in bed in separate rooms. Well, except for Victoire and Ted. I let them watch some film in Ted's room." Hermione's eyebrows rose and she turned halfway to face Harry.
"I don't know if that's such a good idea. Aren't we supposed to be chaperoning them?" Harry gave her a dumb look.
"Huh?" Hermione sighed, shaking her head and smiling a little bit.
"I've said it before and I'll say it again, sometimes Harry, you can be as dense as Ron." She gave him a few more seconds to think but he just stared at her, waiting for an explanation. "They're obviously interested in each other. It's all over their faces – and bodies, for that matter." She rolled her eyes as Harry started protesting.
"They've known each other since they were babies, Hermione! It's not possible! You can't be interested in someone you've seen naked when you were 3!" Hermione burst out laughing.
"Harry, love knows no limits. It just happens. Often it develops during a long period of time. Just look at us." Harry blinked, looking more confused. Hermione realized her mistake and blushed slightly.
"Oh Harry, I mean look at our relationships! Both you and I ignored the fact that Ron and Ginny had a crush on us. But during all those years it slowly grew on us, right? And then suddenly one day, we realized. That was how we'd started to feel for them. Love." He smiled at her.
"You always make such good sense of everything, Mione." The nickname made her freeze for a second. It was something he'd started using. When James was a baby and he had a very hard time saying her full name. He'd started calling her Mione and it had stuck. She turned back to the dishes.
"Anyway, do you think it's alright? Fleur would kill us." Harry shook his head.
"Oh, it's not like they get a chance any other time. Let them have their fun, they wouldn't do anything I wouldn't do in that age."
"Harry, Ted's 18 and Victoire's 17. There are a lot of things they will do if they get the chance."
"…maybe I should check on them…" Hermione looked up at Harry. He was deeply torn between being the cool Uncle Harry he'd always been, or to take the responsible father role he'd had a few times here and there. Hermione loved both of those aspects and she knew that even though Ted didn't always show it, he did as well.
Suddenly Harry's eyes lit up like the tip of a wand when you do a Lumos spell.
"Do you hear the song, Hermione?" She stopped to listen, while Harry turned it up.
They measured the room, they know the score
They're mopping up the butcher's floor
of our broken little hearts
O children
Hermione recognized the music immediately. It flowed straight into her, immobilizing her with that same pain and sadness. The moment was suddenly so clear in her head though she hadn't let herself think about it in years. That night she'd been carrying the hourcrux around her neck, replaying the moment of Ron leaving them. How he always left when things got hard with Harry. She loved Ron, but sometimes he could be such a jerk, so dense… though he might've had a point. Hermione however, could not leave Harry and go with him. She loved Ron yes, but leaving Harry alone out there in the woods, to face the world's evil all by himself… The idea had hardly occurred to her, because it was an impossible thought.
She would have to let Ron go to safety, make that sacrifice for his sake. That was something she could do – she would do almost anything to have him back, to hug him, to console him. To hold him and tell him that she did love him, she needed him. But no matter how much she loved him and needed him she couldn't… live without Harry. The mere thought of a life without him was so painful, so unthinkable that she sometimes blacked out just starting the thought. She lost control of herself. And to make things even worse in that aspect – she had known Harry couldn't live without her. In that moment, no matter how depressed she was after Ron had left, she and Harry had grown into each other so violently that the reality without one or the other would be impossible. Hermione was sure that if Harry were to die, she would die to – and vice versa.
And that's when Harry had suddenly appeared in front of her as she was curled up in a ball in the stairs. She'd been staring blindly at the radio, trying to catch her breath. He'd reached out his hand and she'd taken it with some hesitation. Her eyes had found his, staring straight into them. They had reflected her own, bottomless sorrow. But he'd looked down at her neck, reached out around her and for the first time since she'd worn the necklace, made her pulse quicken. Then he'd thrown it away, pulled her out onto the roomy floor of the tent. She'd been slightly prefunded and slightly anticipated to see what he was doing. That's when he'd started moving with her awkwardly, like he was on some 5th grade school disco.
They're gathering around with all my friends
We're older now, the light is dim
And you are only just beginning
O children
Now, in the kitchen, Harry caught her gaze and did the same he had done all those years ago. He offered her his hand, and she took it, and he pulled her out on the kitchen floor with a smile this time, instead of the tired but intense look he'd worn back then. He started moving goofily along with her, Hermione's cheeks growing flushed.
It was a crazy dance at first, like last time. They forgot their worries, their obligations of being a parent, being married and being an adult. Pulling their arms back and forth, jumping and throwing their heads back with laughter.
She had never heard the song since. Now she could, for the first time, listen to the words and it scolded her heart. It wasn't fair. Just like that night in the tent, all the possibilities came rushing back.
Harry heard the lyrics to the song so suddenly as if Hermione had whispered them into his ear. He swore himself for repeating this scene that had played way too many times in his head. He would remind himself of that night when he and Hermione had managed to forget about the rest of the world for a few seconds. But it was also the night he had thought of nothing but to be close to her. He just wanted to pull her into him, have her on his skin, and whisper anything that would soothe her into her ear.
When he'd pulled her closer to him that night, and she'd rested her head on his shoulder, his chest had been bursting with feelings he hadn't known where to put. They wanted to get out, but found no opening.
He somehow knew it had been obvious in his eyes when they'd pulled apart. How much he needed her, wanted her. In that moment wanted to be nowhere else with anyone else, despite the consequences that had brought them there.
Now he felt it again. They say that sounds and smells can trigger powerful memories. Harry understood perfectly well what they meant. First the song and now the sweet smell of Hermione as he pulled her close. She rested her head on his shoulder, replaying the scene they'd acted out once before.
Hey, little train! Wait for me!
I once was blind but now I see
Have you left a seat for me?
Is that such a stretch of the imagination?
The déjà vu was making her knees buckle – or was it the smell of Harry's aftershave? She wasn't completely sure. The rough fabric of his shirt against her cheek, and under that the familiar scent of Harry himself. He smelled a little bit like a mixture of fresh bread, wet grass and warm towels. She closed her eyes, trying to get a hold of herself and grabbing his arm to give her some support to push away from the body her own was melting into so perfectly.
But as she did, she met his gaze.
Harry held her hand firmly in his own. As she leaned back to look at him, he was caught in her beauty. It still surprised him how beautiful she was to him. It was not just her face, neck, nose, wrinkles and eyes but it was as if her whole personality shone through. He could see a reflection of the girl he had danced with in the tent all those nights ago. His heart did some sort of circus freak move in his chest, and he leaned closer. So did Hermione.
Last time, she'd leaned in before pulling away. Even though Harry had leaned in, she'd known it wasn't going to last. She loved him, she'd known that. But it was a childish sort of love. The kind that you time and time again tell yourself was way too passionate to stay. It would be smothered in time, by reality. She'd walked away because she knew that Harry loved Ginny. She'd known that making him more confused than ever before would only make the quest to find the horcruxes harder. And even though she wanted nothing more but to kiss him then and there, and let go of everything else… she couldn't. She couldn't let him betray his best friend like that. Ron would never forgive him if he lived up to his expectations.
Besides… Hermione had been scared to death. What if it turned out what they had was something that people call love – soul mates, she'd even dared to hear Trywalnie say she saw in her teacup once, that crazy old bat. Anyhow, if that had been the case and Harry or she… died. Where would that lead them? No, she had to priorities their lives – and friendship. And she did not wish to confuse Harry more with stupid love triangles when it was about the world's safety. She always did what was best for Harry.
In this case it had been to turn her head from what she wanted most and walk away. At Hogwarts and that last battle, it had been to ensure Harry they would be alright without him. In some wicked way, kissing Ron – which of course a part of her really wanted, because he made her feel wanted and she, well, a part of her loved him – had somehow meant letting Harry know it was alright to die. They would miss him, but he had to do what he had to do. In some wicked, psychotic part of her brain she'd known it was exactly what he needed to know. She also somehow knew, she would not stay alive if he didn't. But that was something he should never see – especially not in that moment.
Now though, none of that mattered. The war was long since over with, now all they had left were each other, their significant others and… their children. They couldn't risk that, could they?
But they couldn't stop looking into each other's eyes either. They drew a tiny bit closer with each breath, and Hermione could see each black hair on Harry's upper lip.
It was like a foul trick of fate, this song, this dance, this moment.
Hey little train! Wait for me!
I was held in chains but now I'm free
I'm hanging in there, don't you see
In this process of elimination
The song was fading away, but the two childhood friends remained attached to one another. Hermione leaned even a tiny bit closer, heart racing, noses touching and noticed that Harry looked like he was surprised. Surprised and something else… Mesmerized?
Harry could do nothing but let his eyes roam over her rosy cheeks, her fringe lightly touching her forehead. Then he looked back into her eyes and saw the golden flicker that had always been there. Like a little reflection of light running along the side of her hazel brown iris.
Their breaths melted into each other as they stood but mere couple of inches apart, Hermione closing her eyes slightly, giving in. The hand that was holding hers moved its thumb across the back of her hand, making her shiver.
She moved her hand on his shoulder hesitantly towards his neck, suddenly holding her breath as…
"Daddy!" They sprung apart as if someone had burnt them. In the doorway Albus appeared, looking slightly bothered. A million explanations flashed before Harry's eyes as the boy yawned quietly.
"James is telling ghost stories again. It bothers me when he can't shut up." Harry suddenly let go of the breath he'd been holding. Albus was terribly scared of the dark, and James was naturally a devil at telling horror stories. He smiled knowingly at his son, offering his hand to him. James took it hesitantly. What he hadn't wanted to admit in front of Hermione was how much his brother's stories scared him. He was 11 and supposed to be a big boy, so to speak. Starting Hogwarts in just a month, after all.
Harry gave Hermione an apologetic look.
"I think I'll put Albus to bed and…" he hesitated, trying not to get caught in her beauty. "…then turn in myself. I'll see you in the morning, yeah?" He didn't really wait for a reply as he followed his son out.
"Goodnight again, auntie Mione," Albus yawned.
Hermione was left in the kitchen, feeling naked and cold, like someone had skinned her alive and somehow gutted her at the same time. A new song was playing on the radio, and she felt like cursing because it was one she knew.
I want to tell you so,
before the sun goes dark
how to hold my heart
Cause I don't want to let go,
let go,
let go of you
"Goodnight, you two…"
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A/N: I have a feeling it will be… probably 2 more chapters of this story. It's all thanks to the amazing Jasmine that this is even out here. I wanted to write a Harmony fanfic, she gave me this idea. After an hour of brainstorming, we had a story. Now I'm just putting it into words and actions. I love writing these two, and their children. Please let me know what you think of the characters keeping well in character, of my ridiculous ideas and of course, what you would think of two more chapters ;P