Author Note: So, I've changed some things. After trying and trying again to write this story the way this chapter had it originally going and realizing that I was simply rewriting what thousands of other mediocre fanfic writers had done before me – I decided to change some things up. Hopefully this will turn into a legitimately entertaining story and not drivel. Thank you to those of you who have already left feedback – let me know what you think of what I've done
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In 2004, during his seventh year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Harry Potter finally defeated the Dark Lord Voldemort. Sadly, the details of this defeat are sketchy, as Potter and Voldemort were the only ones present. Potter walked out of the chamber shaking from head to toe and then spent two weeks in the hospital ward recuperating. He refused to speak of it – begging his closest friends not to make him relive the horror. Voldemort, obviously, was in no state to discuss the duel – as Albus Dumbldore, Sevrus Snape and Remus Lupin all declared him dead and thoroughly destroyed at that time.
Hermione Weasley cracked her knuckles and took a sip of pumpkin juice as she re-read her manuscript. The Man Who Lived: A Biography of Harry Potter was becoming a true labor of love for her. The only reason that she was tackling such an undertaking was that Arthur Weasley, the Minister of Magic and her father-in-law, had asked her to.
It has been fifteen years since that day, and very little is known of Harry Potter today. There are many theories as to his whereabouts, each as preposterous as the last. Many people believe that he is an unregistered Animangi and is spending his days living in the jungles of Africa. Others believe that he married, has three children and is currently serving as Minister of Magic in the United States under the name of Anderson Marcus. The least popular theory, but still thriving, is that the defeat of Voldemort so drained his powers that he is living life as a Muggle.
Most wizards refuse to believe this and sincerely hope that the hero who saved our people has not abandoned us and will reappear once again.
As for the other heroes of the Great War (2002-2004), the few that survived were heralded as heroes. Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts, continued to serve in that position, despite many wizards insisting that he become Minister of Magic. He instead nominated Arthur Weasley and became Arthur's chief mentor until his death in 2009. Minister Weasley has served as Minister since the end of the Great War and is generally known as one of the best ministers the wizarding world has seen in recent times. For more on the reforms put in place by Minister Weasley, please refer to The Aftermath written by Luna Longbottom. Potter's best friends, Hermione Granger and Ronald Weasley, were married two years after. Both returned to Hogwarts to serve on the teaching staff; Hermione as Muggle Studies and Ronald as Qudditch and Flying Instructor. In 2016, after just ten short years of marriage, Ron was diagnosed with terminal brain cancer and died three months later. Hermione now serves as Transfiguration professor and Assistant Headmaster to current headmaster, Minerva McGonegall.
"That's a good place to stop for the night," Hermione whispered to herself, replacing the quill in the inkwell. "I believe that's a good place to stop."
As she went through the motions of getting ready for bed, she thought, as she did often, about Ron and Harry. Both names caused a dull ache in her soul. Ron, because of the love that they had shared and the memories she had – but that ache was healing. It had been five years since she had seen him and it was getting easier to live alone each day. But memories of Harry were a whole other story. Harry's memory caused pain. But not the ordinary kind of pain. A longing kind of pain. The kind of pain that's there when the person you love isn't.
Hermione took a deep breath and got out her pensieve. Plunging her face near its swirling silver surface, she prepared herself for the deluge of Harry memories.
"But if you don't do this, Hermione" she told herself, "you'll never get to sleep."
They moved by in rapid succession. From that first day on the Hogwarts express to the night they discovered Sirius in the Shrieking Shack to Graduation until it finally settled on the last one. The one it settled on every night. The one the pensieve wouldn't let her forget.
It was at her wedding…
"You look beautiful, Hermione," Harry smiled as he whirled her around the dance floor.
"You don't look so bad yourself, Harry," Hermione replied.
There were a few moments of comfortable silence before Harry looked piercingly into her eyes and asked, "'Mione?"
"Yes?"
"Are you happy?"
She was completely taken a back by the question. Happy? Of course she way happy! It was her wedding say for sodding out loud. But as she caught the look in his eyes, her heart stopped.
No.
She wasn't.
Or not at least the way those eyes wanted her to be.
He must have known, somehow, her response, because he smiled sadly and kissed her softly on the cheek. As his lips pulled away, he whispered, "I love you."
And her reality shifted, just that much.
As she pulled her head out of the cupboard where she kept her pensieve, Hermione wiped the tears from her eyes.
She missed Ron. But she ached for Harry.
She had had very, very limited contact with Harry over the years. A few letters from foreign owls – each different. One right after she and Ron had moved to Hogwarts. One randomly about four years later just to let them know that he was all right and having a good time and he would try to come visit sometime soon. Never told then what he was doing, but he assured them he was happy. There was another when he heard that Ron was sick, another two weeks later when he heard that Ron was really sick and letting them know that he would come visit before Ron died.
And he did. Harry came about six weeks before Ron passed away – bringing with him Francesca Valencia. Francesca was the world renown wizard healer cancer specialist. Many wizards believed that their race was immune to the deadly diseases Muggles suffered from – and in most cases they were right. But certain forms of cancer along with genetic diseases struck wizards as hard as Muggles. Francesca had spent her life studying the effects of cancer on a wizards' body – Hermione had read all 67 books she had written on the subject.
But even with all of her expertise, Francesca didn't have any other diagnosis besides what the other Healers had already told the Weasleys. Ron had approximately eight weeks to live. He was gone in six.
But Harry stayed with them for those six weeks and it was just like old times. He and Ron laughed about Quidditch and gladly mocked Hermione's cooking. As Ron got weaker, Harry took up responsibilities around the house. Hermione would frequently return from classes to find a clean house and a cooked dinner. The two of them would stay up long after Ron had drifted off to sleep, correcting essays, grading tests or simply talking.
Besides the companionship, Harry brought wisdom and stability to their lives. When Hermione and Ron would feel like everything was spinning completely out of control – it was Harry who would quietly step in and make everything right. The Weasleys never asked how he did it, but he always seemed to make everything better.
The night before Ron finally died, Hermione overheard the two of them talking in the living room while she was mixing a pain draught for Ron.
…..flashback…..
"So, I'm standing in the middle of Diagon Alley, holding a bucket of fish and a jousting lance!" Harry could barely get the story out, he was laughing so hard.
Ron was wheezing – the closest he could get to laughing – but he managed to say, "Only you, Potter. Only you."
Hermione smiled as the two fell into companionable silence and was about to go in and join them when she heard her husband start talking again.
"So, Harry, how much do you love her?"
Who's he dating now and why hasn't he said anything to me! Hermione thought.
"Love who, Ron?" Harry's voice cracked nervously.
"My wife."
Hermione nearly shattered the bottle she was holding.
"Hermione? She's my best friend, mate! I love her more than anything, Ron! You know that," Harry chuckled.
"That's not what he means," Hermione whispered to herself, inching closer to the door.
"That's not what I mean," Ron sighed, "and you know it. "
There was a long moment of silence, during which Hermione thought she just might die. But then Harry spoke and she realized that she was going to have to.
"I'm pretty sure that I couldn't love anything more, Ron. I'm pretty sure that I'm so ass backwards in love with her I can't function. And I'm pretty sure that it has taken everything within me over the past ten years not to kick your ass for marrying the woman I love."
Hermione's world stopped.
She heard a familiar chuckle. "Yeah," Ron said weakly, "that's what I thought."
"What you thought? Shit, I thought no one knew!"
"Oh, Potter, that's a good one," Ron continued to chuckle.
"Really, mate, I'd appreciate it if you didn't laugh your way through our little session of 'True Confessions' here," Harry growled.
Hermione bit her lip to keep from laughing herself.
"Harry, anyone who has ever been in the same room with you and Hermione is fairly positive that you're in love with her. Lupin, Dumbledore, even Snape for crying out loud! My mother is always telling me that I should divorce Hermione because you'd be a lot better for her," Ron finished.
"Your mother said what?" Harry almost shouted. "Ron! She loves you!"
"Yes, yes she does," Ron said, "but not like she loves you."
"Ron, I –"
"Harry, please, let a dying man talk, eh?" Ron cut him off. Harry must have nodded his assention, because Ron continued.
"Do you remember seventh year when Hermione and I started dating? No, you couldn't because you weren't there. Harry, we lost you seventh year."
"What? I was…"
"I know, you always say that you were there with us. But you weren't, Harry. You weren't," Ron muttered. "It's not like we blame you or anything! 'Mione and I both wish you would have told us the prophecy, but that's water under the bridge. When Voldemort kept getting stronger and you kept getting more distant, 'Mione and I only had each other."
Ron took a deep breath before continuing. "It was the afternoon after the attack on Hogsmeade – remember that day?"
'Who could forget,' Hermione thought ruefully. "Lucius Malfoy destroyed half the town!"
"Well, anyway, that afternoon you just up and disappeared! I know now that you were in the Room of Requirement training, but then? I had no idea. You took the map, so I couldn't find you. Nor could I find my girlfriend. I was faced with the options of doing my homework or taking a bath in the prefect's bathroom – so I went with the bath option. I was getting ready to go in when I heard crying. It was Hermione and I was concerned, (and also a little excited that she might be naked) so I peeked my head around the corner to see if she was alone. Well, here – see what she said," Ron said, as he pulled out his pensieve.
Hermione didn't need reminding what she had been dealing with that day. She was rather surprised to know that Ron had heard her – especially since he hadn't said anything in 13 years – but she remembered that day perfectly.
It was the day she realized that she was in love with Harry.
She and Ron had been dating for about six months, they were even talking idly about marriage, and it was wonderful. It was comfortable. It was boring. They did the same things all the time, had the same arguments over and over and she was beginning to think that she just couldn't stand it anymore.
She made a list of pros and cons of dating Ron and at the bottom of the 'con' side, she had shocked herself by writing, "He's not Harry Potter."
She had run up to the prefect's bathroom to be alone and rail against her thoughts.
"Harry bloody POTTER! The Boy Who Lived? The Famous Harry Potter? What the bloody hell am I doing falling in love with Harry Potter?" She distinctly remembered screaming to the (supposedly) empty room.
She was snapped back to reality by Ron's voice in the living room.
"She kept saying that over and over again – Ron's not Harry. And then I guess she finally came to a conclusion, because she stood up and said, 'Well, it's not like Harry will actually ever pick me and I'm perfectly happy with Ron. I may even love him, I just don't know yet. Come on, Granger, pull yourself together!"
The men laughed as Ron continued, "So I decided that her maybe loving me was better than nothing and I would keep going until she said stop. Because quite frankly – "
"No one knew how long any of us were going to live," Harry finished quietly.
"Yeah," Ron said. "It's kind of ironic, eh? I survive the bloody Great War and some damn Muggle disease finally gets the best of me?"
"No, not ironic, it just fucking sucks," Harry said.
"Yeah, well," Ron trailed off. "So when did you know you were in love with her?"
Harry took a deep breath, "Around the middle of sixth year."
"SIXTH YEAR?" Ron said loudly. "You should have told me!"
"No," Harry said firmly. "Because if Voldemort knew I was dating someone or even had feelings for someone – they were as good as dead. I knew that I couldn't have any sort of relationship until after I killed him. Besides – the whole House knew you liked Hermione. I wasn't going to stand in the way of that if she liked you back."
"First of all, I think that's all absolute bollocks – the no dating because Voldemort would kill her business."
"Shove off."
"No, Harry. I think you've been hiding behind that for a lot of years now."
"So, what was my real reason?"
Ron shrugged weakly. "I'm not sure. But I think it's got something to do with the fact that you spent the first 11 bloody years of your life in a cupboard. To let me have her was just easier."
Harry didn't respond and Ron was loosing the energy to fight him. Dredging up anything in Harry's past was beginning to require more energy than Ron had in him at all. But finally, Ron whispered, "So we were both just going until she said stop."
"More or less," Harry agreed.
"So, when I'm gone," Ron said, "you'll take care of her?"
"Yeah, mate – no worries."
As the conversation moved on to Quidditch, Hermione turned back to the pain draught – hoping that her tears wouldn't completely throw the potion off.
….. end flashback …..
But in the five years since the funeral, she had seen Harry twice. Once at McGonagall's inauguration and once at the Burrow for Christmas.
Taking a deep breath, Hermione came to a decision. She was done.
"I am 40 years old tomorrow," she said aloud.
"Happy Birthday, dear," her mirror replied.
"Thank you," Hermione replied absent mindedly. "I have a wonderful life. I had a wonderful husband whom I loved and love. I have a wonderful job! Why am I moping about for some bloke that I fell in love with 27 year ago?"
"I don't know," said the mirror.
"Neither do I," Hermione said definitively. "Neither do I. Harry has had plenty of time to act upon his supposed feelings for me and I have been waiting ever so patiently but now I am done. No more moping, no more wallowing, no more!"
And with that, she went to bed.
