If you don't like angst, don't read.
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
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Hermione never told Harry that she'd fallen in love with him somewhere in between that majestic flight with Buckbeak or the time she'd taught him the Summoning Charm before the First Task.
She knew that he didn't reciprocate her feelings. First it was Cho. Cho was a bombshell, no doubt about it, and her only possible competition was Fleur Delacour (a fact not unnoticed by Ron). She was the type of girl that made your eyes bulge out and your lips lurch forward in a foolhardy attempt at a kiss, and Hermione did her best to respect Harry's crush as she tried to repress her own feelings. She never told him that she wished he'd asked her to the Yule Ball, that she was so frustrated that Ron, of all people, had even noticed her availability before he had. She knew from the moment Viktor hooked his arm in hers that she was dressed to stun, and her assumptions were proven correct by the look on Harry's face that said, Oh my God, that lucky git. But the look was as much a curse as a blessing, as it only proved that Harry had never thought of her as a girl before, much less a pretty one.
Their fifth year she'd done her best to support him in his attempt at a relationship with Cho, and she thought she'd done an admirable job of hiding her own feelings for him. It wasn't just Cho, though: it was everything at once, and Harry had more on his mind – Voldemort, namely – than some silly sixth-year Ravenclaw seeker. Hermione had long since deduced Ron's crush on her, and she felt an attraction towards her other best friend, as well. It wasn't the kind of love she felt for Harry, but it was something, and so, after the debacle at the Department of Mysteries, Hermione took her own advice and forgot about Harry Potter. She was more than anything a human growth culture of insecurities, and she knew that if she wasted much more time Ron might move on. After five years of devoting her life to one individual, Hermione needed someone to devote their time to her.
Then Lavender Brown came along and ruined everything. Hermione never told Ron how she felt, and perhaps that was the real mistake. She hadn't told Harry and she hadn't told Ron and now both her boys were gone and she was lonely Hermione Granger again, the girl reading in the corner that was too smart for her own good. She handled the situation like any other teenage girl. She screamed and she cried and she fought with Ron more and more. It helped to push Harry from her mind, and that year she spent much less time with her two best friends than she ever had before. Harry found Ginny, Ron found Lavender, and Hermione found a geyser of misery and loneliness, spurting up at every inopportune moment.
Things changed. Ron seemed like he'd finally grown up, but then he left during the hunt for the Horcruxes. Hermione knew this would be her last chance to change things with Harry, but a wall had been erected between them, a wall no spell could bring down. And so went the year. Hermione's heart nearly stopped when she saw Harry's limp form in Hagrid's arms, but then he rose, the most brilliant phoenix Hermione had ever seen, and defeated Voldemort. After that, they settled into a routine. Harry paired off with Ginny, and Hermione paired off with Ron. Ron, at least, she had the guts to kiss.
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Harry never told anyone he was having second thoughts.
His marriage with Ginny was a week away. Their engagement had lasted eons – every little detail had to be meticulously planned by an assortment of brides and bridesmaids and caterers and mother-in-laws and so on – but Harry did not feel part of the growing furor surrounding the build-up to the wedding. He knew that Ginny was a lovely girl, and a girl that would devote herself to making him happy, but more and more he began to wonder if maybe things weren't quite right. It was unfair to Ginny to say that she loved the myth rather than the man, but that definitely played into it, and she did enjoy the fame he'd always shunned. Their nights together were exhilarating, but their days were long and tedious. Conversation did not come easily, and Harry often had to fight to agree with whatever it was that Ginny was saying. No longer were there two entities fueling this marriage. There was just Ginny. He was a mere spectator.
It didn't help that he had lunch with Hermione three times a week. As Head of the Aurors and Head of the Magic Law Department, respectively, they naturally had a lot to talk about, and these lunches were their way of staying close. Harry saw Ron all the time, seeing as they worked together, but Hermione wasn't just Hermione any more. She was now his best friend's fiancé, and the moments of innocent intimacy they'd once shared no longer seemed so platonic to the outside world. It was interesting how a simple change of title could so irrevocably change a relationship, but they still had their lunches, and as long as they could keep their lunches Harry knew he could keep his sanity.
But their lunches reminded him that Hermione knew him better than anyone else, that Hermione was constantly looking out for him, that Hermione was more likely than anyone to tell him just how much of an idiot he was being. Ginny and Ron were always supportive, and he appreciated that, but sometimes constructive criticism was a necessary measure. He made Hermione laugh, and while she didn't make him laugh like Ron did, at the end of each lunch his dry lips began to crack from smiling so much.
Their final lunch before his wedding, Hermione reached out and wiped a stain of chocolate from his cheek with her thumb, and it was then that Harry realized that he was in love with her.
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Hermione never objected at the wedding of the man she loved.
Which was perfectly understandable, seeing as she sat through the entire ceremony next to her fiancé (and Harry's best friend), and that would have made things a tad awkward. So she watched while Harry and Ginny said their vows and kissed, and it was only a small consolation when she saw Harry's eyes roam in her direction as he broke apart from his new wife.
Harry never objected at the wedding of the woman he loved, so for all intents and purposes they were even.
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Hermione never summoned the courage to watch as another woman gave birth to Harry's child.
Others might have found it strange that Hermione sat alone in the waiting room of St. Mungo's while Harry and her husband coached Ginny through the birth. The rest of the Weasley family waited outside the room, some (Arthur) pacing and some (George) causing mayhem amongst the nurses and healers. Ron later joked that she had been more nervous than Ginny. When Ron said this, Harry smiled sadly at her.
Fleur informed Hermione that the child had been born, and she was third person to ever hold James Sirius Potter, after his mother and father. As she stared into the baby's green eyes, she felt her heart leap and break at the same time. This baby boy was so perfect in so many ways except for one, and near-perfection had always been in Hermione's mind the most tragic trait.
When Rose Weasley was born, Harry was on a double-shift, covering for Ron. Harry never congratulated the couple on the birth, instead deciding for an easy grin and a fake air of happiness. He'd never been a man of words.
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It would seem safe to assume that Hermione and Harry never kissed, but perhaps that was the greatest surprise.
It was noon on a Wednesday in March – in other words, lunchtime. Hermione would never forget that day, the day when they sat on her sofa with chicken salad and pork chops laughed about Kingsley and Ron and everyone in between.
They'd finished their meal and were sitting together in comfortable silence when she asked him about home. He shrugged. She asked him about Ginny. Another shrug. She asked him about the kids, and he laughed and told a story about James and Lily and a lawnmower.
Without further prompting, he mentioned that he and Ginny hadn't laughed in ages. He mentioned that they'd fought, and that they'd taken to sleeping on opposite sides of the bed. He admitted that the only reason he came home was to see his children.
She in turn confessed that her own mother had questioned her devotion to Ron, and ever since that moment she felt alone in her own house. She felt as if she'd betrayed her husband by not being in love with him, by wanting more than what she had, and that was the closest Hermione Granger ever came to telling Harry Potter that she loved him.
One moment, Harry was hugging Hermione; the next, their lips met in the most immaterial of kisses.
It was a brief kiss. They broke apart, stared at each other, and then each stood up. Harry apologized. Hermione apologized. Harry told her it had been a mistake. Hermione agreed. Harry stressed his love for Ginny, and Hermione her love for Ron.
They'd always had the ability to speak without words, and this occasion was no different. They silently agreed not to talk about their one glorious slip-up, and on Friday they met for lunch again. Their punishment for the kiss was five minutes of contrived conversation; after that, Harry regaled Hermione with the story of little Al's first steps, and their friendship was repaired once more. They'd come dangerously close to the truth, almost-perfection, and that, in Harry's mind, was the most tragic fate of all. With one unspoken agreement their only kiss was just another thing that never happened.
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