"After so much time, can a seed still grow?
Can a fire be sparked from this ember's glow?
I wonder what you'd say, wonder what you'd do
If I said, my love, I love you."
~"If I Said I Loved You" from The Pirate Queen
Nobody saw it coming, no one ever would have guessed. It never crossed anyone's mind that Harry and Ginny Potter would get divorced—or Ron and Hermione Weasley for that matter. But by the end of the year 2023, the two Weasleys had run off with the Wimbourne Wasps, each having been offered a position on the team. It was highly surprising, considering they were both in their forties, but nonetheless, they were gone.
Their children were left stunned, and hurt. They were all old enough to understand, but that didn't mean they did. And it didn't stop it from hurting.
Christmas was a solemn occasion. The Weasleys still considered Harry and Hermione family, even if they were no longer legally so. The whole lot of them met at the Burrow, as usual, but the typical gaiety was lost. They opened gifts, ate dinner, and went to bed. Smiles were forced, strained. Laughter was not to be heard. And no one dared speak the names of the absentee Weasleys.
Long after Christmas dinner was over, and everyone had gone to bed, Harry sat alone in the living room, on the Weasley's recently purchased couch. This one, thank Merlin, didn't have a spring that popped up unexpectedly. The fire died slowly, until only the quiet embers remained.
"Harry?"
He turned toward the sound to see a figure approaching. He didn't need to cast lumos to know who it was; he'd heard that voice so many times in the last thirty years, it was almost a part of him. "Hey, 'Mione," he said as she sat beside him.
"How are you?" she asked with concern.
Harry shrugged. "As good as can be expected, I suppose. You?"
"The same."
They were silent for a moment, before Hermione spoke again. "How can you be so calm about this? You don't seem angry or surprised at all about Ginny leaving."
He sighed. "That's because I saw it coming," he admitted. "We've been . . . having problems for a while now. More fighting than actual talking, and spending very little time together. I was already contemplating separation when I got a letter from her, explaining where she'd gone, as well as the divorce papers, already signed by her."
"That's what Ron did to me," Hermione said bitterly. "Only, I didn't have the luxury of expecting it. Yes, we've been arguing a lot more recently, but I never once even thought about divorce, or even just separating. I assumed we would work it out, the two of us, somehow." She laughed mirthlessly. "But we didn't."
"I'm sorry."
She gave a small hitch of the shoulders. "It can't be helped, can it?"
Harry paused, choosing his words carefully. "Hermione . . . do you still love him?"
"I love Ron," she stated, "not the irresponsible cad he's become. His actions have proved to me, once and for all, that the man I married is long gone, and I can't expect him to come back." She was quiet for a moment, then, quietly, asked, "What about you, Harry?"
"I think I stopped loving Ginny when James finished school," he said. "She started a fight with me about something—I don't even remember what—but she was so damn insistent on being right that we missed the graduation ceremony."
"You're kidding!" Hermione gasped.
He shook his head, even though she couldn't really see it. "Luckily, I explained to James what had happened, and he understood. He took it quite well, actually. But I did take him to a Cannons to make up for it." He grinned. "And it helped . . . even if they did lose."
She laughed quietly. "Well, it's the Cannons, Harry. They always lose."
"Too true."
Hermione smiled as the familiar, comfortable silence settled over them once again. It seemed so right, so natural, that she should be sitting here with Harry. He'd always been the best at making her feel better, and she liked to think that she was the best at comforting him as well. He seemed to go to her more often than Ginny. Hermione reasoned that it was because they'd been best friends since first year, and Harry hadn't really gotten to know Ginny until sixth. It made sense for him to come to her, and vice versa. Didn't it?
"Harry," she found herself speaking suddenly, "do you have any regrets?"
She could sense his surprise, but he responded nevertheless. "You mean about my marriage to Ginny? No, I don't. Everything that's happened, happened for a reason, though I have yet to determine that reason."
"That's a good way to look at it . . . but I wasn't talking about your marriage."
"Then what were you talking about?"
She shrugged. "Life. Love. The way things have turned out. And I don't mean all the deaths I know you've witnessed. Those couldn't have been helped, and I'm sure you know that by now." He nodded to confirm that. "I'm talking about small things . . . little occurrences that could have gone another way, had you made a different choice." She looked directly at him, though she couldn't see his face in the thick darkness. "If you could go back to one moment, one choice, what would it be?"
Harry was quiet as he considered that. Did he have any regrets? His immediate response would be no; he truly believed that everything that had, or hadn't, taken place in his forty-three years of living, had been for the best. They were what was meant to happen. But as he briefly reminisced about his life, he landed on one day, one event, that he had wished had gone differently, at the time. Later, he'd decided that it was better that it hadn't, but now . . .
"Harry?" Hermione's voice brought him out of his stupor. "You can tell me."
He looked in her direction, seeing no more than a black outline, but it gave him the courage to speak his mind.
"I would have kissed you," he whispered.
She gasped quietly. "You what?"
"I would have kissed you," he repeated, sounding more confident. "When we were dancing, in the tent. We were so close . . . and I wanted to . . . but I didn't."
Hermione was at a loss for words. Never in her wildest imagination would she have expected those words to come out of Harry's mouth. But they had, and she found herself completely mystified. At length, she regained some control over the rational part of her mind. "Why didn't you?" she asked in what she hope was a composed, calm voice.
"Fear," he said. "And . . . you were upset over Ron."
"Fear?" she asked, disregarding the last part. Despite herself, Hermione couldn't help but give a short laugh. "For heaven's sake, Harry. You faced dragons, Dementors, Death Eaters, and bloody Voldemort himself, but you couldn't manage to kiss a girl?"
"Thank you for putting it so kindly," he deadpanned. He was quiet for a moment. "I was afraid it would ruin our friendship. We'd never been that close before. I figured it was because you didn't want to be, so if I'd kissed you, it would have ruined it." He shrugged. "What can I say? I was seventeen."
Though he tried to reflect a sense of resignation through his words, Harry couldn't help but wonder, now, what might have happened? Would it really have ruined their remarkably close friendship? Or was there a chance it would have blossomed into a love that would not have resulted in a painful divorce and five heartbroken children?
"It wouldn't have ruined it," Hermione whispered, as if reading his thoughts. "I would have welcomed a kiss."
Harry froze, taking a moment to let her words sink in. "Really?" he asked.
"Without a doubt."
A thousand thoughts and feelings rushed through him at once, the most prominent of them being, at first, a renewed regret that he hadn't. That was soon quelled, as he reminded himself that the past could not be changed, and replaced with a fast-growing desire to do it now. But as his teenage fears resurfaced, he found himself hesitating. No, he told himself. Don't pause, don't over think this. You've always wished you'd done it, and now you have the chance. Just take it.
Cautiously, quietly, he asked, "What if . . . I kissed you now?"
Hermione's entire body went rigid, and her face flamed. Had he really just asked what she thought he had? Yes, it seemed he had. Her heart was pounding, as though trying to force its way out through her ribs. Taking a shaky breath, Hermione turned her head toward him. By now, her eyes had adjusted somewhat to the darkness, and she could just barely see his face, though she couldn't see details. Not that she really needed to. She could picture every single laugh line, every eyelash, every feature of his ruggedly handsome face. But not being able to see the emotions in his eyes was unnerving. Usually, she could read them, but now, they were hidden in shadow.
"Hermione?"
She started, having fallen into a sort of trance. "Yes?"
"You didn't answer my question."
"Uh, hmm?" was her incredibly intelligent response.
He moved closer. "Would you welcome a kiss now?"
It took Hermione all of two seconds to decide. In the first second, she remembered Ron, and his irrational jealousy and fiery temper. Who knew how he would react?
But then, in the next second, she remembered that Ron wasn't here, and he wouldn't be coming back any time soon—if ever. And she also remembered how she had wished for this, waited for this, wondered if it would ever happen. She recalled the silly, naïve hopes, the girlish dreams, and above all, the shattering realization that it wasn't going to happen, and the bittersweet feeling of settling for mediocrity. She did love Ron, but she'd loved Harry first.
And she still did.
"Yes," she answered, her chest rising with confidence. "Yes, I would."
The air between them seemed charged with a sort of electric current, and a magnetic force that pulled them together. And then, finally, after twenty-five years of waiting, wanting, wishing, and wondering, their lips met.
Time stood still for a split second, then it seemed to turn backwards. Gone were the years of sadness, of regret. They were teenagers again, dancing in a tent, in the middle of nowhere, lost in a private, perfect moment. Their hearts raced, their blood pumped, and their breaths mingled as they shared their first kiss—twenty-five years too late. But, as they would say in years to come, better late than never.
"I love you, Hermione," Harry whispered, and as he said those words, he realized just how true they were.
Hermione's eyes glistened in the faint moonlight. "I love you too, Harry."
Nobody saw it coming, no one ever would have guessed. It never crossed anyone's mind that Harry and Hermione would fall in love.
But they did.
A/N: So, what do you think? Just a little ditty I came up with randomly. Reviews are muchly appreciated! :D Oh, also, quick disclaimer. I do not own Harry Potter, or the lyrics that appear at the beginning of this story.