A/N: This is the second fic in the collection, One Last Day in Paradise. I have two more in mind, so, we'll see how many I can create. This one focuses on the trio, but from Hermione's point of view. She analyzes her feelings and emotions, trying to explain them to herself. Cheers :)


Façade…

Tomorrow is the eve of the wedding, she mentally noted, as she sat on the sofa with her legs curled underneath her body and her hands holding a mug of warm tea.

It was nearing two o'clock in the morning on a summer day and Hermione Granger had yet to go to sleep. Everyone else in the Burrow was slumbering peacefully, she assumed, and here she was on one of the Weasleys' sofas, experiencing insomnia. This was not a new thing, however; the young witch had been having difficulty with sleeping for the past few days.

Hermione shifted a bit, taking a sip of the liquid, and was immobile once more. Wait—today is the eve of the wedding. It's two in the morning Hermione, use your head, she thought wryly to herself. Yes, tomorrow was the big day—the day that Bill Weasley was to be wed to Fleur Delacour.

This was the event that had been the main focus of the Weasley clan for the past fortnight, but especially Molly. It kept everyone involved constantly busy and moving, and even gave a sense of happiness. Consequently, to some this happiness was forced and a false cover-up of their true feelings, and Hermione was one who felt this way. Their union was undoubtedly a wonderful happening that deserved to be joyous, but the Muggleborn felt that it was too cheerful, violently blocking out all other emotions, especially negative ones. It was as though the wedding refused to let one think darkly and to Hermione this was not fair, realistic, or possible. Fleur and Bill alone could not cover up the fact that Albus Dumbledore was dead, the wizarding world was in turmoil, and Voldemort was at large.

A little more than two weeks had gone by since the headmaster's funeral. That seemed to be the last time anyone had known peace, in any sense of the word. The wizard known as You-Know-Who glorified in the fact that his second mortal enemy was deceased, and his joy was evident through rampant, destructive Death Eater activity. One down, one to go. Severus Snape and the Malfoys had not been seen or heard since that time either, much to the chagrin of many (especially a green-eyed boy).

The Minister of Magic, Rufus Scrimgeour, was beside himself for many reasons. The darkest sorcerer of the age was having a field day, his citizens were both terrified and furious in knowing this & demanded he take action, and he feared the entire political system, because of the chaos, was teetering between either an outright dictatorship, to stop the panicking, or anarchy from the panicking! And to add to that, he had still yet to speak with Harry Potter! Scrimgeour knew something of the utmost importance concerning Voldemort was discussed between Dumbledore and Potter before the old man perished; the boy was the Chosen One for Merlin's sake! The Minister was dying to know. He had half a mind to arrest the teenager and drag him into his office since the Gryffindor would not come of his own accord, but knew this would be the father of all mistakes.

If there was any good news, it was that a week after Dumbledore's funeral two Death Eaters were apprehended. Of course, it was the doing of the Order of the Phoenix, and the pair killed itself shortly thereafter rather than speak. But that meant two less of Voldemort's minions. Hermione sighed, thinking of the Order. It was as active as ever, though understandably crippled and devastated by the murder of its leader. McGonagall and Remus Lupin stepped up to take his place, though by no means did they assume his title. The group simply needed direction.

They've had no real time to mourn, or sort everything out—sort their feelings out. None of us have. Voldemort has seen to that, the girl thought. She looked into her mug, finished the tea off, and set it down on the floor. Feelings. Hers were completely shot and jumbled. A loud meow issued from around the corner and Crookshanks then came swaggering into the room. His owner gave a worn smile and patted the cushion next to her, motioning for him. He obeyed and jumped onto the sofa, then looked pointedly at Hermione. It was as if he was not happy with his accommodation and wanted her to know.

Yes, the Burrow was insanely full of people. All eight Weasleys (excluding Percy), Fleur, her younger sister, Hermione, and Arthur's remaining brother, Abel. Fleur's parents had not resided with the Weasleys but that was to change this very day.

"And Harry," she murmured. Of course, Harry— he was there as well. She looked at her pet, "What? I tried to leave you at home for once and you wouldn't hear of it."

Hermione had gone back to her parents after the term at Hogwarts ended (permanently, she feared) for one week. As much as she loved her mother and father, seven days away from her magical life was enough. She had worried fretfully over what was happening and over her loved ones. Especially Ron and Harry. When she finally arrived at the Burrow, for Merlin knew how long this summer, the wedding festivities had begun to commence and she was alone.

Frankly speaking, Harry was not alongside her or already there.

Immediately she knew this summer was going to be the most difficult to get through, and the most awkward. The instant she saw Ron making his way towards her, wearing a shy, uncertain smile and fidgeting his hands nervously, her stomach clenched. He took her in his arms, oddly at first, and was the last Weasley to embrace her. His hold tightened, however; she hugged him in return, already feeling rushed and confused emotions for him crashing down on her. After their interlude (in which the Weasleys had busied themselves in order to give the two privacy), Ron looked into her face and moved some of her hair behind her ear.

"Y-You're all right?" he had wondered. Hermione nodded, knowing this was a lie and the truth.

"Mum wanted to get you here as soon as possible, to know you were all right and keep you under her eye!" The redhead gave a laugh that wouldn't have sounded so broken in earlier years, and looked to the kitchen where Molly was.

"Ron," the Muggleborn began, relieved in being in his company and seeing he was okay, "Where's Harry? I haven't spoken to him since… we got off the Express." Half of her soul was content with Ron—the other half, Harry's half—was desperate.

"Nor have I," he responded, looking at her again. The sorrow in his voice became apparent.

"Oh, is he all right? Is he still with the Dursleys?," Her eyes took on a frantic gleam, "He… he wouldn't have left us! Already! Would he?..." She was pulling his hand in earnest.

It hurt to see her like this because it was just a mirror of his feelings and he could not do much to appease her. She worried over Harry so much. And… there would always be that tiny portion of jealousy for Ron that stung as well.

"I'm sure he's still at his uncle's, Hermione. He… Harry wouldn't just leave… not yet. He'll be 17 soon enough anyway, and then he can leave for good." Ron told her. The witch's eyes dropped to the floor.

"He's coming here, though, so there's a reason to stay."

"When? I thought you said you hadn't spoken—"

"Mum wrote you both to come. He responded to her. He's coming this week. In the next day or two."

Hermione didn't reply, still concerned but much more at ease.

"It'll be interesting huh?" he pondered, looking at Ginny and Charlie.

"What?"

"Between Ginny and Harry." She followed his gaze and stared at the sole daughter of the family. Yes, he had ended their relationship, hadn't he? Ginny must be hurting, no matter how she tried not to show it. She had cared for him for years—since she was 11. Hermione frowned.

She'll manage fine, a superior voice insider her head noted, Harry had his reasons for breaking it off, no doubt valid.

The brunette felt pressure on her right hand; she glanced down and saw it was still in Ron's, and that he had squeezed it. She hadn't even realized she hadn't released it. He smiled at her, for plenty of reasons, and all she could do was smile back helplessly. Oh yes—awkward.

Hermione winced as she unfolded her legs and let them hang in front of her. They had been in that position for too long and were now asleep. She decided to take the empty mug into the kitchen to exercise them and get the blood circulating again. As she picked the cup up and Crookshanks meowed once more, she resumed her train of thought.

It had been odd to be alone with Ron for there was (now) something between them that could not be denied, something that had come out during sixth year. Oh, it had always existed, but the past year had been its time to make its mark. (Hermione felt embarrassed when she currently thought about their last year at Hogwarts. She had acted childishly and foolishly, not like herself. But Ron often made her feel not like herself, didn't he)? Because of what they had gone through, she felt being alone in his presence was difficult. She could feel a long-waited force expecting something to happen between the two—so could Ron. Their glances would turn into gazes, their looks into stares. Touches would linger for too long, eliciting butterflies in the stomach. And the idea of being close to one another's face was unthinkable. So, to avoid it, she tried to stray away from being alone with her best friend.

And it was pitiful really! Well, at least to Hermione…. Isn't this what she had wanted since third year? Isn't this why she was jealous of Lavender? Didn't she want Ron? She was supposed to! All of those years of heated fighting—it had been their feelings for each other in disguise! So what was wrong with her now? Had she really expected it to happen? Was she afraid of the prospect of actually being with Ron? Was it something else? Someone else?

"Harry, as usual," muttered Hermione, as she stood over the sink and put the mug in.

She had been exuberant to see Harry come into the Burrow escorted by Remus Lupin & Tonks one full day after she had arrived. It did her heart well to see her other best friend, the one who gave her an entirely different kind of grief, in once piece. She threw herself on him as Ron came bounding down the stairs, beaming. Yes, Harry was the answer.

They could not be together right now, for his sake; it wouldn't in any sense be right. He needed them as friends, not a couple. Their relationship would complicate things for the trio's friendship and probably leave Harry feeling somewhat isolated, something he certainly did not need at the moment. The timing would be horrendous.

With Harry finally at the Weasley home as well, Hermione expected for her emotions to settle down and right themselves a bit; his presence would buffer her feelings and thoughts about Ron to a minimum. This, however, had not proven itself to be the case. Harry brought with him more tangled emotions that were not needed. He seemed to epitomize what the entire wizarding world was going through and at times, it felt as if Hermione could not bear to look at him or else cry. He did not deserve to be the 'Chosen One' and be so burdened.

Harry also made her feel guilty when she did think about Ron. She felt as if she shouldn't out of respect for him, but couldn't help it. These thoughts did not last too long however, for Harry would creep into them eventually and befuddle them all. He made Hermione and Ron more uneasy around each other than they had been before he came for the wedding as well. It seemed as though he expected them to carry out their feelings for each other and wanted to let them know it was all right by him, but they held back, whatever their reasons. This often led to silences and uncomfortable glances that were the theme of the summer—awkward. These moments weren't too frequent, on the other hand, and usually happened when nothing was being said for a long period of time amongst the three. It was then that they were reminded of the possible Ron, Hermione relationship and the fact that it could not be ignored forever.

Hermione knew why she didn't want to act on anything, but wasn't sure about Ron. Did he take Harry's "blessing" to heart and want to move forward, but wouldn't because he had no idea how she felt? Had Harry and Ron spoken about this issue and she not known? It was very probable. They were best friends, slept in the same room, and were together more often than not. The Muggleborn was not going to ask Ron anything for fear that the answer to these would be yes, that's what he was waiting for—her. It would break her heart to explain to Ron her hesitancy and see his self-doubt, embarrassment, and anger form, for they no doubt would. He wouldn't understand that it wasn't him stopping her, it was the timing… or maybe he would understand. Was she giving him a fair chance?

And then there were those unexplained feelings Harry extracted in her that she could not place, the ones that showed up whenever Ginny was in the room.

The ex-couple's first meeting had occurred a few hours after The Boy Who Lived had come to the Burrow. He was talking to Ron and motioning with his hands as the three were walking out into the backyard, and nearly hit an off-guard Ginny, headed for the house alongside George, with a fierce gesture. His hand stopped mid-air as she drew her head back, and he looked like a deer caught in headlights.

"Watch where you flail those things, Harry!" laughed George, patting him on the shoulder and walking around the group. Ron cleared his throat and glanced at Hermione as his sister and best friend looked at one another.

She spoke first.

"Harry. Here finally, are you?" Her voice was even and sounded good-natured. Hermione, a fellow female talented at glossing over true emotions, knew this was painful for the redheaded girl.

"Er… yeah. All right, Ginny?" he responded, continuing to stare at her.

"Of course. Well, I have to deal with being Fleur's bridesmaid and that can be hell sometimes, but at least I'm not Bill yeah?" She gave a small laugh that sounded genuine. Hermione was suddenly, inexplicably, ready to have her out of their presence; she had an urge to steer Harry clear of his ex-girlfriend.

The raven haired teenager opened his mouth to say something at the same time as Gabrielle ran out of the Burrow, calling for Ginny.

"Ta mère te veut, Ginerva," she relayed. She then saw Harry and blushed, "Bonjour, 'Arry." (The first time Gabrielle had seen Harry she was overcome and ended up weeping embarrassingly). He nodded at her in acknowledgment.
"Mum wants me, then," Ginny noted, rolling her eyes, "That means I'll be occupied for at least two hours. I'll see you lot later, maybe." She then walked off with the younger Delacour daughter, who looked back and grinned. When they were gone, Ron and Hermione looked at Harry simultaneously.

"What?" he questioned a bit gruffly and returning their gaze.

"Nothing, mate! Nothing. Come on. You were saying?" Ron interjected.

The next night in Ginny's room, while Gabrielle was sleeping heavily, Ginny came to Hermione teary-eyed and ready to talk about Harry. She admitted it was damn hard being under the same roof as him after their breakup, and expressed her desire for them to be together again.

"I know Harry, and he won't think of it until this… this You-Know-Who, business is over with!," she sobbed. I know him too, and have longer, Hermione surprisingly thought in a bitter voice, "He says he's doing it for me, but I don't care! I'll risk it!"

"But he won't, Ginny, and that makes all the difference," Hermione told her quietly, "You know how Harry is about protecting the people he cares for." The redhead looked away defiantly, eyes brimming with tears.

"I waited so long for Harry."

"I know, Ginny. I, of all people, know."

"And what if it ended at the funeral? What if he doesn't want to get back together? I don't think I could handle that Hermione, not after having him! What if Harry doesn't… doesn't—"

"Doesn't what?" the brunette wondered, sensing what her friend was trying to say and not liking it.

"Doesn't live! That thought is so horrible, Hermione, but I can't stop it!" the ex-Chaser said.

"You're not the only one Ginny!," she snapped in response, "All of us who care about Harry have thought that! It's terrifying! You just can't focus on it or else you'll break down." There was silence for awhile as Ginny collected herself. With one final sniff, she stated:

"I just miss him, Hermione. That's all."

After that night the Muggleborn's unexplainable feelings for Harry made themselves terribly known, much more than ever before. (Had they always existed)? Every time Ginny came around the trio she would wish her gone, no matter if she and Harry were getting along amicably. How did Hermione justify this strong emotion of not wanting Ginny near Harry? It was difficult and she had tried many times, always coming to the same conclusion: she didn't want him to get hurt. She felt an obligation to protect him from anything, everything, that might harm him, and that included Ginny. It was like a sister wanting to defend her brother, much of what Ron always displayed when it came to Ginny.

Hermione liked this sibling related answer, but it failed to describe why she had never felt this way about Ginny before, or at least not to her knowledge. (Because Harry didn't fancy her before! Because they broke up and it crushed his heart, a-and I don't want to see it crushed again! she had often rationalized). It also failed to describe why she found herself looking at Harry for prolonged periods of time without anyone noticing. (Because I'm worried about him! Can't someone look at someone else without it being a crime? He's my friend)! In addition, it didn't precisely explain why she liked looking at his face. (…. no rationalization for that, I'm afraid).

Thus, Harry made things more complicated than anticipated.

Hermione caught herself staring in the sink in a reverie, and shook her head. Lost in thought, again…. She sighed and moved back into the living room. Sometimes, recently, she wished she could simply clear her mind of all thought and emotion. Life would be much happier if she were blissfully ignorant, even with Voldemort running amok. Hermione threw herself on the sofa, covering her eyes with a hand. Her cat was craftily stalking something on the ground.

Did she have feelings for Ron or not? Of course she did; that was obvious. Had she cared for him for awhile? Of course she had. It started third year and became somewhat serious fifth year. Did she think their relationship would be easy? Of course not; Ron drove her absolutely mad many times! They were opposites in so many ways and could anger one another such as no one or nothing else on Earth. Did she want to find out how they would work? Yes…. Was she afraid? Deathly. Did she wonder, sometimes, if she had feelings for Harry as well? Of course; she knew this. Hadn't she told Ginny she cared about him? Did she mean feelings other than friendship?... Possibly. Had she wondered for awhile? … Yes. Since fourth year. Did Hermione have any business of even possibly harboring those kinds of feelings for Harry?

"Of course not," she groaned, slumping over.

Harry was not Ron! She felt for Ron, in that maddening, complex way of theirs! But that was it, wasn't it? With Ron it was so complex, so trying, so arduous. Harry was… was different. Entirely. Harry—

Is not an option! she screamed at herself. Hermione then began laughing. (Crookshanks peered at his master darkly before going back to his hunt, which led him out of the room). She wasn't even sure if those feelings for him were there, if they were even real! So it didn't matter! She could stop killing herself over it! Right?...

At what point had her best friends become more than just that? At what point had romance been thrown into the concoction? Things had been so much easier before she had decided to bring in other feelings that weren't platonic into the picture! Oh, to be eleven again….

Hermione stopped laughing sardonically and sat up, after a moment. Here she was, mulling over things like this while the Dark Lord was terrorizing the wizarding world. Way to have your priorities straight, dearie, she told herself. She looked round for her pet after sighing and didn't see him.

"Crookshanks, come here. I'm done being insane," she called out.

"Sure about that?" replied a male voice. She looked sharply at the entrance of the room and saw pajama-clad Harry walk in. Crookshanks accompanied him, meowing.

"Harry! What are you doing up?" she pondered, hand instantly going to her hair. It wasn't at its best, and she immediately regretted him seeing it.

"I'll answer if you do."

"I'm always up, didn't you know? I'm lucky if I can sleep nowadays." Hermione told him wearily, looking to the right of her.

"Nice to know I'm not the only one. This is the first time I decided to get out of bed, however," he remarked. Harry then moved to sit next to her, on her right. She moved over to make room, though he had plenty. He sat closer than necessary, in her opinion.

"What've you been thinking about?" he asked.

"Everything," she scoffed, smirking.

"How ironic—so have I! That's not a subject one tends to think about often." She looked at him and laughed. She had always liked his unique sense of humor.

"Bill and Fleur are getting married tomorrow."

"I hadn't noticed." Harry joked, arms folded. She half-smiled and looked down at her fingers, picking at them.

"Seems kind of weird that something as normal as a wedding could take place, doesn't it?" he noted, after a short period of silence.

"Exactly." Hermione rather breathlessly agreed, looking up at him. He met her gaze.

"Hermione."

"Yeah?"

"What's going on with… with you and Ron?" She didn't answer. Instead, she resorted to staring at her hands again.

"I mean, I won't b-be… upset or anything. If you two want—" he began.

"Harry, don't," the Muggleborn advised. Her best friend frowned and turned to face her.

"What? Hermione, I—"

"You don't have to say anything, Harry. It's okay. We're… nothing's happening. We're friends… like always." For now…. Harry looked at her.

"Yeah?" he inquired, after more silence.

"Yes," she confirmed. He turned away from her and stared straight ahead like before, getting comfortable again.

"Right."

"Like you and I." Hermione softly noted.

"Like me and you," he mumbled. She looked at him and caught his eye. Harry grinned, and she smiled.

He then engaged her in conversation, and during their lengthy talk, Hermione fancied that Harry moved closer to her.


A/N: So, it turned out longer than I expected and didn't end how I pictured it. Whatever! Anyway, I know I hinted at H/H, but if you read my profile you'd know that was my favorite ship. It wasn't too much though, and I had to include Hermione's feelings for Ron in there because they can't be denied.

Arthur only had two brothers, right? Bilius, the one who died, and the other. As for Gabrielle, well, she's in there. Lol. I forgot what I wanted to say about her.