Thanks again to HarmonyLover for the beta and for her constant encouragement and support :)
Tying the Knot
May 6, 2002
"I now pronounce you husband and wife."
It had been two years – two glorious, magnificent, wonderful years – since Harry and Hermione had confessed to loving each other with tears streaming down their faces. In that time, much had changed. Ron and Luna had moved into their own flat, leaving Neville and Ginny to take possession of the one they had previously shared with the eccentric blonde. Meanwhile, though Draco continued to live at Grimmauld Place with Harry and Hermione, he spent many hours with Astoria Greengrass, choosing to remain out of the happy couple's way rather than constantly force his company on them. Of course, the "happy couple" wouldn't have minded in the least; both Harry and Hermione were extremely devoted to Draco and always enjoyed spending time with him.
Now, looping her arm through Harry's, Hermione stood by her new husband as their friends and surrogate family converged on them. Two years ago, if someone had told her that she would be marrying the man of her dreams, she would have said that they were out of their mind. Though she had never been able to imagine being without Harry – after all, from the time she was eleven, he had always been an integral part of her life – something had changed upon their confessions of love to each other. Hermione had never viewed herself as being dependent on anyone – in fact, she'd always prided herself on her independence – but if Harry were to ever leave her, she thought that she just might die. Harry, for his part, couldn't stop smiling. After years of doubting his own worth – especially when it came to being deserving of Hermione – here he was, standing beside her, having just been married.
Immediately following Hermione's return from Switzerland – and without her parents – Harry had accompanied her to confront the Grangers regarding their behavior where their daughter was concerned. However, nothing could convince them to accept Hermione for what she was: the brightest witch of her age. Her actions as a result of the war, despite being for their own good, were unforgiveable as far as the Grangers were concerned. They washed their hands of her, though they wished Hermione the best in the life she had chosen with Harry. Disappointed, but determined to try again, Harry and Hermione had returned to Grimmauld Place where they were greeted by Draco, who offered them his support, having gone through the same type of rejection by his own parents.
Narcissa, despite having lied to Voldemort to protect Harry, had viewed her actions as the means to an end – namely, penetrating Hogwarts' defenses and finding her son. Following the war's conclusion, she hadn't understood why Draco had applied to the Auror program and willingly chose to work with Harry Potter. Since then, mother and son had had no contact, despite the deep love they had once shared and felt for each other. As for Lucius, all Draco had heard since his arrest was a Howler that declared him a disgrace to the Malfoy name. Draco hadn't cared what either of his parents had to say, and had continued to go about his business, an orphan for all intents and purposes.
When Harry learned of Draco's position, he informed the blond of his and Hermione's plans: they were commissioning a house to be built where Luna's father used to live before he had decided to travel abroad full-time, having bequeathed the Quibbler to Luna. Though Harry and Hermione had only recently become a couple, they each knew that the other was "the one" for them. As such, there was little doubt in their minds that they would eventually marry. Once they had done so, they would then move into the new house upon returning from their honeymoon, leaving Grimmauld Place to stand empty, unless Draco chose to remain there. Touched by Harry and the future Mrs. Potter's offer to provide for him, Draco accepted.
No one seemed to notice as he began to retreat further into himself, save for Ginny. As the years had gone by, the youngest Weasley had striven to look past the mask that Draco had worn during their school years. As it had been with Hermione, a beautiful friendship blossomed between the two, and Draco soon found himself confiding his true feelings for Harry to her. Ginny understood, having once carried the torch for Harry herself. She gave Draco the same advice that Hermione herself had once given: be yourself. Though no earthly force will ever break Harry and Hermione apart, Ginny said, loosening up and being more natural will make the pain easier to bear. Draco took her words to heart, and found that she spoke the truth. He might not hurt any less when he saw Harry and Hermione together – whether walking, holding hands, or kissing – but he had found a way of coming to terms with his emotions.
As Harry carefully placed one of his hands in Hermione's and the other on her waist in preparation for their first dance together as a married couple, she trembled with barely concealed pleasure. Even after two years, his touch still managed to send shivers down her spine.
"Have I mentioned lately how beautiful I think you look, Mrs. Potter?" he asked, smiling tenderly at her.
"Mrs. Potter," Hermione sighed to herself. "It sounds so wonderful when you say it."
"Mrs. Potter," Harry whispered, while leaning in to capture her lips with his.
Barely pulling away, Hermione murmured in response, "And yes, you have mentioned that you think I'm beautiful. But it doesn't hurt to hear again."
At this, they both smiled.
"If I have my way, 'Mione, you'll hear how amazingly beautiful you are every minute of every single day," declared Harry.
"Thank you, Harry."
"You don't have to thank me for telling the truth. But you're welcome. I love you, sweet girl, more than my own life."
Smiling softly to herself, Hermione nestled her head in the crook of Harry's neck, her cheek coming to rest on his shoulder, and let him lead her around the dance floor. Harry held Hermione close to his chest, remembering the way she had slowly made her way down the aisle, gripping a bouquet of white lilies, and how he thought she'd never looked prettier in the strapless pale pink gown she had chosen to wear, with its wide sweeping skirt and train and the silver rose attached to the bodice. It was like seeing a fairytale princess walk right off the pages of a storybook and into the real world. In the moment that they were joined in matrimony, neither Harry nor Hermione had ever been happier in their lives – and that included the night they had first made love.
It had been a cold winter evening, their first Christmas spent together as a couple. They'd been curled up in front of the fireplace, listening to the radio, when "their" song came on, the one they had danced to while in the midst of hunting for horcruxes. Untangling the blanket from around them, Harry had stood and offered Hermione's his hand, sweeping her around the room in a similar manner as when they had first danced to this song. However, unlike the last time, there wasn't an underlying tension permeating the room, and fear no longer hung over their heads like an axe – they were free to enjoy the moment, and they did. As the song ended, Harry had drawn Hermione close and began to kiss her. Eventually, the pair sank to their knees on the floor, hands reaching tentatively for sweaters and jeans. Passion soon overrode all else as skin slid softly against skin. Harry explored every inch of Hermione's body with both his hands and his lips, worshipping her as she so richly deserved. Hermione returned the favor, driving Harry crazy with what she could do with her tongue. Finally, when they couldn't bear to draw out the moment any longer for fear of exploding, Harry eased inside Hermione, taking into consideration that this was her first time – his, as well, for that matter – and taking care to be gentle with her.
They lay together afterwards, basking in the glow of the firelight, their bodies fully sated from their activities. They fell asleep where they were, the blanket drawn up around their naked chests to save Draco the embarrassment of discovering them without any clothes on.
Their relationship had only improved from that time on. Having been joined in the most intimate of acts, Harry saw no reason to put off getting engaged and proposed to Hermione the following week, though only after having spent hours searching for the perfect ring: a silver band with a big diamond in the middle and little diamonds descending halfway down from either side. Harry arranged for them to spend a pleasant evening at home, alone. He cooked the dinner and served it, having given Kreacher and Winky the night off. Then, before bringing out the dessert, he got down on one knee by Hermione's chair, producing an elegant velveteen box, and asked her a question, to which she replied with a tearful, "Yes, of course." They kissed, and would have retreated to the bedroom, had Hermione not insisted on sampling the tiramisu that Harry claimed to have slaved over. They took turns spoon-feeding each other, before hurrying upstairs where they quickly shed all of their clothes. That was certainly a night to remember.
The next day, Harry and Hermione gathered all of the Weasleys together and announced that they were engaged. After accepting everyone's congratulations, they asked the Weasleys' permission to be married at the Burrow. They were laughed at, though not unkindly, and informed that they didn't need to ask to use their own home. Harry and Hermione didn't want to make a big to-do about their wedding, something for the papers to go on about. Therefore, a guest list was quickly decided on: family only, which meant that, basically, all in attendance would be the Weasleys and their respective partners, whether married or otherwise. Harry asked Ron to be his best man, while Ginny would be Hermione's maid of honor. Luna and Neville would walk down the aisle as bridesmaid and groomsman.
Almost a year-and-a-half before, and here everyone was congregated in the Weasley garden, finally watching Harry and Hermione recite their vows under an arbor of roses. It was a beautiful sight, one that had long been coming, for Harry and Hermione were perfectly suited for each other, a match made in heaven.
Draco stared, entranced by the bride's radiance, which was only accentuated by the jewelry he had gifted her with to match her dress. The aquamarine pendant she wore sparkled in the sunlight, as did the pink tourmaline earrings that dangled enticingly from her ears. He'd taken Ginny shopping with him, afraid of buying something that would clash with Hermione's skin tone, or something of that sort. Really, though, he just wanted a chance to talk with Ginny alone, maybe even cry a little about losing the man he loved to another woman. Still, he couldn't imagine conceding to anyone but Hermione. What was Draco compared to her? Nothing but a former Death Eater. What did he have going for him that could possibly tempt Harry? Ginny let him have his way for a little while, understanding that he needed to vent. But she soon snapped him out of his mood by telling him that he would do better to throw himself into making this an unforgettable day for Harry and Hermione rather than dwell on what could have been.
Harry further eased Draco's pain, albeit unsuspectingly, by creating a ring of friendship out of all of their birthstones – meaning Harry, Hermione, Ron, Draco, Luna, Ginny, and Neville's – set in a silver band that everyone chose to wear on a chain around their neck. Being included meant more to Draco than anyone could have possibly guessed, with the exception of Ginny, from whom Draco kept no secrets.
"So..." said Draco, drawing out the single syllable as he fell into a chair next to Harry, "How does it feel to be a married man, now, Potter?"
Harry smiled disarmingly at him and answered, "Pretty good, so far."
"I'm happy for you, Harry," Draco continued. "You and Hermione deserve each other."
"Thanks." Harry smiled at him again. "I know you haven't been completely yourself lately, Draco, but I hope you know that you can come and talk to me about anything, anything at all."
"I know, Harry. But nothing's bothering me, I assure you."
"Well, if anything ever does, I'm here for you, as is Hermione and all the rest. You may have had a rocky start, but you're one of us now, Draco, and we look out for our own."
"Thanks, Harry. I certainly appreciate it, you know that."
"Anytime, mate," Harry replied distractedly, searching the crowd for Hermione, who had been whisked away by one of the Weasley brothers.
"I hope you have a wonderful life, Harry Potter," whispered Draco, leaning forward to briefly press a kiss to Harry's forehead, directly over his distinctive lightning-bolt scar. "You've earned it after all that I and others have put you through." Then, with one last backward glance at the man who had unwittingly stolen his heart, Draco weaved through the Weasley clan to approach the table where Ginny and Neville were currently conversing.
"Mind if I borrow your girl for a dance, Neville?" asked Draco courteously.
"Be my guest," Neville replied.
"Am I so easily bought, then?" asked Ginny, shooting her boyfriend a mock glare.
"Don't worry, Gin," said Neville. "You're still the queen of my heart."
"Aww," Ginny cooed, kissing him sweetly on the lips before allowing Draco to lead her away.
The two posed quite a picture on the dance floor: Draco, in his fancy dress robes; Ginny, in the simple purple dress that fell to her knees that Hermione had chosen for her and Luna to wear as bridesmaids. The dress had a band going around its middle that was decorated with flowers, while the sleeves consisted of soft netting. Harry had accentuated both her and Luna's outfits by providing them with jewelry made of their birthstones: for Ginny, peridot; for Luna, topaz.
She and Draco danced in silence for several moments as he tried to collect his thoughts. Ginny gave him his space, understanding how hard this must be for him.
"We'll always be friends, won't we, Gin?" he asked her at last.
"Of course, Draco," she replied softly. "I have no intentions of leaving you."
At her pronouncement, Draco clung to her all the more, wrapping his arms securely around her back and holding on tighter as he buried his head in her flaming red hair, breathing in her distinctive flowery scent. "Thank you," he whispered. "I never had friends before Harry and you and all the others, and I'll do whatever it takes to stay with you."
"Do you honestly think that we'd let you go without a fight?" asked Ginny in disbelief. "After all, you're one of us now," she concluded, unknowingly echoing Harry's earlier words.
They swayed together in place for a few more minutes, before Draco felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned around to discover Harry standing behind him, clearly intent on dancing with Ginny at least once. Acquiescing to his former rival, Draco bent low over Ginny's hand and kissed her knuckles – they had a long-standing joke between them that he was a chivalrous knight and she a fair maiden – before departing in search of Hermione, as he owed her a dance and had yet to offer his congratulations on her newly married status. He found her sitting alone at a table, fanning her flushed cheeks. Taking a seat next to her, he cleared his throat to announce his presence.
"Oh, Draco," she exclaimed. "You startled me."
"My apologies," he said gravely. "I was wondering if you would care to dance with me."
"I'd love to," she said, rising to her feet and taking his proffered hand.
Draco led Hermione onto the dance floor, holding her in a similar manner as her new husband had, with one hand in hers and the other on her waist. He admired her form and the way her skirt swished as she moved, the pink material brushing lightly against his pant legs. Draco soon became aware of Hermione's piercing gaze on him, and he looked down at her, smiling reassuringly.
"Are you happy, 'Mione?" he asked her.
"Yes, very," she replied. "Harry completes me, Draco; I don't know what I'd do without him – or without you, for that matter. Your support of us in these past few months has not gone unnoticed; we appreciate everything you've done."
"Well, you know the way I feel about the two of you," said Draco, attempting to sound jovial and ignoring how his stomach seemed to coil in tight knots at Hermione's words. If only she knew the true depth of his feelings for her husband...
"Mind if I cut in?" asked a familiar voice from over Draco's shoulder.
The two turned to discover Harry standing there, a gentle smile playing across his face as he waited for Hermione, whose face had lit up at the sight of him, to accept the hand he was holding out to her.
"Not at all," said Draco, gracefully bowing out and retreating to the Burrow's kitchen, which had always been a source of comfort for him before. And there he remained until Ginny came to fetch him, informing the blond that the bride and groom were preparing to depart for their two-week honeymoon. Draco accompanied her outside to see the newly-wedded couple off, crushing her hand in his all the while. Ginny, bless her, uttered nary a complaint and simply let Draco continue to cut off her blood circulation.
Then, with hugs and kisses all around, Harry and Hermione disappeared with a pop, leaving the Weasleys and Draco feeling decidedly bereft of their company.
Hermione breathed a sigh of contentment as she and Harry reached their final destination. "Alone at last," she murmured.
"I get very jealous when I have to share you. Now, for two whole weeks, I have you all to myself," Harry whispered in her ear, wrapping his arms around her waist and drawing her flush against his chest.
They stood together observing their surroundings. Kingsley had arranged for them to spend their honeymoon on a deserted island that had been renovated just for them. After all, nothing was too much for the heroes of the wizarding world. Currently spread out before them was an expansive beach, perfect for long walks in the moonlight. Directly to their right was a bungalow, which would be their living quarters for the next two weeks – spacious, but at the same time, cozy. A patio extended onto the beach and palm trees gently swayed in the breeze, adding to the romantic atmosphere of it all.
Nudging Hermione's shoulder, Harry inclined his head in the direction of the ocean. Accepting his silent invitation to partake in a mid-afternoon dip, Hermione took off with Harry hot on her heels. Laughing gaily, they ran through the water, pausing on occasion to splash each other, finally coming to a stop on the shore, just in reach of the waves which lapped at their feet. Clasping hands, they stared out at the body of water spread out before them. Harry raised Hermione's left hand to his lips, kissing where he had placed her wedding ring on her finger mere hours before. Sharing a tender smile, he then reached for her, placing his hands on her shoulders and turning her to face him, before gradually dipping lower and eventually drawing the shirt she wore over her head and tossing it aside. Following Harry's lead, Hermione began to divest him of his clothes as well, until they were both completely naked. Without a trace of embarrassment, they began to kiss – Harry couldn't help but recall what he had seen emerge from Riddle's locket all those years ago, and the way in which that version of himself and Hermione had expressed their feelings for one another – before slowly walking further into the ocean, until Harry was forced to support Hermione's weight, as the water would be over her head. She unashamedly wrapped her legs around his waist and began to thrust wantonly. It wasn't long before both had reached their climax and came groaning the other's name.
Stunned by the intensity of what they had just shared, despite having done this same act many times before, Harry breathed out shakily, resting his forehead against Hermione's, who he still held in a firm grip to prevent her from going under. Though she could tread water reasonably well, it was selfishness on Harry's part that kept him holding on, a reluctance to let his wife go beyond an arm's reach. After so many years of being so close and yet so far apart, he was unwilling to release her now that he had her.
"Wow," Hermione whispered, surprisingly at a loss for words.
"You can say that again," Harry replied, leaning in to kiss her right cheek, then her forehead, followed by her left cheek, then her nose, and lastly, her lips. Hermione responded eagerly to his advances, winding her arms even further around his neck and clutching at his hair with a surprising amount of strength.
Though they could have continued to kiss for the rest of the afternoon – and they had all night for that – there were more pressing matters to attend to, such as seeing what food there was available. Luckily, Kingsley had ensured that the island was fully stocked; they would lack for nothing during their stay.
Moving as one, they bustled about the kitchen making dinner. Hermione was working on a beautiful fruit salad, while Harry split his time between the stove, where he was stirring the pasta, and the counter, where he was busy creating their dessert, a wonderful tiramisu that Hermione had proclaimed his specialty as it had been what he made the night he had proposed to her. Having finished preparing their meal, they gathered a blanket and the necessary utensils and trooped down to the beach. Spreading the blanket across the sand, they made themselves comfortable and began to eat.
Although they spoke on occasion, making small talk when appropriate, the two lovers communicated more through their eyes than anything else. Just that morning they'd been joined in holy matrimony, which had created a bond between them beyond what had already existed. Hermione's diamond ring sparkled in the pale moonlight, a constant reminder of the connection they now shared.
Harry raised his glass of wine to Hermione in a toast. "Here's to us," he said.
Clinking glasses, Hermione leaned forward to share a charged kiss with Harry. "And all the years to come," she finished for him, her voice barely above a whisper.
"Dance with me?" Harry asked suddenly.
Hermione, who had grown used to Harry's impulsive behavior over the years, allowed him to pull her to her feet and straight into his arms. They swayed in place for a moment before Harry began to guide her around the beach, almost as if they were back on the dance floor at their wedding reception. At the dance's apparent conclusion, Harry dipped her so low that her hair almost brushed the sand, while still maintaining a firm grip on her arms to prevent her from slipping, and bent down to kiss her, slowly and sensuously. When he had finally helped her to stand upright again, she looked dazed and slightly stunned, as she brought a hand to her lips which were still tingling where Harry's had been moments before. He smiled unapologetically at her and surged forward to connect their lips again, albeit more briefly this time. Harry never had been able to resist kissing her whenever the opportunity presented itself, and sometimes even when it didn't. Both he and Hermione were still occasionally plagued by self-doubt, and each sought to assure the other of the sincerity of their feelings. Harry, especially, having never been shown love growing up, did his best to make up for his own neglect by showering attention on those he loved, but none more so than Hermione.
"Why don't we go inside, and you can slip into something more comfortable?" he whispered, his breath puffing against her sensitive earlobe and sending shivers down her spine.
"Alright," she whispered back.
Taking her hand and lacing their fingers together, Harry led his wife back in the direction of their bungalow. Once inside, they passed silently through the darkened house until they reached their final destination – the bedroom. Pausing to briefly kiss Harry, Hermione slipped into the bathroom where she had previously stowed her outfit for just this occasion. Meanwhile, Harry was busy, too. While both he and Hermione had enjoyed their first time together immensely, Harry intended to make this an unforgettable wedding night for Hermione, worthy of anyone's "first time." He pulled back the gossamer curtains around the bed, and then placed lighted candles in strategic locations about the room before spreading rose petals on the floor and charming a disc to play romantic music in the background. When Hermione finally emerged from the bathroom, clad in nothing but a sheer black lace negligee, Harry felt his jaw drop. She looked stunning. Of course, he hadn't fallen in love with her body alone, but he wasn't about to complain.
"You look beautiful," he whispered reverently.
"Don't I always?" she simpered, flouncing over to the bed and perching on the edge of the mattress.
"That you most certainly do," he chuckled, moving to stand before her and taking her hands in his. He raised them to his lips and kissed the knuckles, pulling her up so that she was standing level with him. Hermione wrapped her arms around his neck and smiled coyly up at him; Harry couldn't believe how turned on he was by her behavior, however strange and unlike his Hermione it was.
With a sudden surge of passion, he picked her up, cradling her in his arms like a child, and laid her gently down on the bed. He crawled on top of her and began to slowly undo the buttons to her dressing gown until she was bared before him, completely exposed and utterly vulnerable. She stared up at him with trusting eyes that spoke of her faith in his abilities as both a man, husband, and lover. Harry wasted no time in joining Hermione's state of nakedness, and both spent several minutes just taking the other in, hands stroking bare flesh and whispering promises for all the days and years to come.
In this instance, Hermione was the one to make the first move, rolling on top of Harry and fusing their lips together, releasing him only to suck on his neck and sometimes his collarbone. Harry moaned and writhed underneath her until he could no longer stand it and had reversed their positions. Now Hermione was the one to feel the full extent of his emotions for her, and Harry soon had her begging for release. He had always enjoyed watching her in the throes of passion: spread out on the bed as she was, pliant to his every wish or command, and with her eyes squeezed tightly shut in what some might assume was pain but was actually pleasure, Hermione had never been more breathtaking. As she came down off her high, she looked up to find Harry smiling at her. She returned the smile; seeing Harry happy had never failed to make her happy, too.
"That was perfect, Harry," she whispered to him, leaning as far forward as she dared – fear of further straining herself beyond what Harry had already pushed her to limited her movements – to kiss his bare chest.
Harry smiled as she tried to stifle a yawn, bending down to press his lips to her forehead. "Sleep, my dear sweet girl," he murmured.
Hermione needed no further urging, succumbing to her body's need for rest. Harry chuckled lightly and, with a flick of his wrist, extinguished the candles before pulling the thin satin sheets over them both, wrapping his arms around Hermione and guiding her head to rest in the crook of his neck.
In this manner, their wedding night drew to a close.
It was several days later, and Hermione had woken up early, before the sun had even risen. She spent several moments just watching Harry sleep, during which he looked more peaceful than he ever had when he was awake. Sleep continued to remain elusive, though, and Hermione finally got up to fetch a book from her luggage, 'The Mists of Avalon,' before retreating to the patio where she had a lovely view of the horizon. Glancing occasionally between her still-sleeping husband and the pages of her book, Hermione soon lost all track of time. It must have been mid-morning before she sensed an additional presence behind her, and turned to discover Harry leaning casually against the doorframe, a playful smile on his face as he watched her.
"I love how you can get so caught up in a book that you forget all about your surroundings," he remarked.
"You're no better when you're working on a case," she quickly countered.
"Touché," he replied, and offered Hermione a cup of freshly-made coffee as he took a seat opposite her. "What are you reading, anyway?"
"The Mists of Avalon," she told him. "It's an interpretation of the Arthurian legends told from the point of view of the women. It's fascinating and I love it."
"It definitely sounds exciting," said Harry.
"Remember the last time I had my nightmare?" asked Hermione, referring to the events that had taken place the week before their confessions of love to each other when she had dreamed that she had accompanied Harry to his death. At his affirmative nod, she continued, "I was reading 'The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe' before I fell asleep. I've always been intrigued by magic, ever since I was a little girl, before I even knew that magic was real. I loved to read medieval-based stories because that seemed to be when magic was most prevalent. The people of that time faced danger at every turn, but good would always triumph over evil in the end. I envied the adventures that the heroes and heroines would go on because their lives seemed to be so much more exciting than mine was. Then I came to Hogwarts where I met you, and my life has become one adventure after the other ever since."
"Do you regret any of it?" asked Harry, gripping his coffee cup tightly as he waited for her answer.
"No, Harry, I don't regret anything, certainly not meeting you," Hermione replied assuredly. "Loving you has been the adventure of a lifetime so far, and I wouldn't want to miss out on a single minute of this," she finished, gesturing to the space between them.
Harry sipped his coffee, smiling at her from over the rim of his cup. "We haven't even begun to live," he promised her.
"And what were the first seven years of our friendship?" she teased him. "A pleasure cruise?"
"Not exactly how I'd put it," Harry laughed. "Don't forget: I did die in that forest. I'd say that my life really began upon my return."
"Mine ended when I thought you were dead," Hermione whispered, staring into her coffee cup in an effort to escape Harry's piercing gaze.
"I know, and I'm sorry for any pain that I may have caused you," Harry replied, reaching across the table for one of Hermione's hands. "But the point is that I came back. Death gave us a reprieve. That's what counts – making up for lost time, starting with now."
"I know," said Hermione. "I'm glad that we have this chance, Harry."
"Me too," said Harry, smiling tenderly at his best friend, wife, and lover.
Neither Potter would take the life they'd been given for granted. They would live each day to its fullest, making every moment count. But most of all, they would take every opportunity that presented itself to express the love they felt for their chosen partner, never turning down the chance for a hug or a kiss. They were soul mates, in every sense of the words, and had always been destined for each other.
After two blissful weeks on their tropical island, it was time for Harry and Hermione to return to the real world. With a final glance at what had come to represent paradise for them, the couple Apparated away, appearing again with a pop in the middle of the lawn of their new home. Their house was a modest two-story dwelling, designed to accommodate their family as it grew. There was space for growing flowers, as well as fruits and vegetables – Hermione was nothing if not practical.
They approached the house together, hand-in-hand. Harry stopped Hermione on the porch step, moving forward on his own to open the door alone. As it swung inward, he glimpsed a bundle of loose wildflowers situated in a vase on the hall table. Returning to Hermione, he scooped her into his arms and carried her across the threshold, pausing only to briefly connect their lips.
"Welcome home, Hermione," Harry whispered, pressing their foreheads together.
"I never left," she replied, placing her left hand that bore the glittering diamond wedding ring which signaled her commitment to Harry over his heart while leaning forward to join their lips for another sweet and innocent kiss.