AN:
Hey, all you lovely people! Thank you so much for reviewing, I love the feedback, I really do. I wanted to address a few of the questions/concerns so everyone is on the same page.
HeartsGlow: Yes, Hermione sounds reluctant to be with him. Sometimes taking that leap into a new relationship is scary, especially if you don't know the extent of the other person's feelings for you. Both of them are a little uncertain at first.
mareknowakowski: The intent was not for Hermione to come off as cold but rather blunt. Like she was going to admit feeling something (she hasn't put words to it yet) for Harry and the consequences be damned. Hope that makes more sense.
And this is a general message to Guest reviewers and otherwise… I tried to make it clear from the beginning that this is a Harry/Hermione centered story. If I agreed with every detail of the original ending, then I wouldn't be writing this. Of course I LOVE the books, JKR is a goddess. But I have my own opinion. No one is forcing you to continue reading. Please, I don't want my opinion to inhibit your life.
Ok, hold on tight, this is a long one.
Hermione POV:
Oh, sleep is a wonderful thing…
Hermione wasn't sure what had roused her from her pleasant dreams within the warmth of her sleeping bag. She snuggles her head back into the pillow determined to sleep for at least another five hours. That is until she feels a tickle on her ear.
She scowls when it comes again. And again.
"Harry…" she moans in a raspy voice.
She settles back into her cocoon of slumber only for a moment before she feels the tickle on her cheek this time.
Her eyes snap open. There is nothing in her immediate vision. "Harry…" she warns in a firmer tone. She knows better than to assume he's just going to stop but her eyelids are so heavy…
This time, when the tickle runs over her lips, she feels the bed jostle and knows where the perpetrator lay. She keeps her eyes determinedly open and waits.
After what feels like several minutes of impatience on her part, she sees his hand reaching down from the top bunk with a feather- no, one of her quills - and inching towards her face in another attempt to drive her mad.
Before he can do so, however, she snatches the quill from his hand.
"Hey!" he protests.
She scrambles out of her covers, grabs the pillow and starts pounding him with it, "Harry Potter, you great big prat, you! I was sleeping, you dolt!"
All the while Harry is laughing so hard he can hardly block her blows with the pillow, "I know!" he guffaws. "But I was lonely and bored." He finally gets a good hold on the cotton filled weapon and pulls it from her grasp, much to her distress. "Neither are a good combination for me."
He hops down and is smiling like an idiot.
"Give me back my pillow," she pouts.
"So you can leave me to my own devices again? No way."
"Fine," she snips. "I can sleep without one. And if you tickle me with that quill again, I will hex you into next week."
She curls up on the bed again with her back facing him praying to Merlin that he will leave her be.
His hot breath ghosts over her ear as he whispers, "You didn't say anything about using my fingers." And then he is jabbing said fingers into her sides, making her scream out.
"Ah! Harry!" She can't help but laugh, taking big gulps of air and trying unsuccessfully to keep it inside but it's too much. "Harry, please!" Hot tears stream down her face, some slipping into her ear.
"What are the magic words?" he asks as he continues the hilarious form of torture.
"I- I- I'm going to kill you!" she gasps.
"No, I'm afraid those aren't them. Try again."
"Oh, please! Please, I'll do anything! I won't go back to sleep, I promise!"
Harry is now propping himself above her, keeping her captive under his weight. "You swear?"
His tickling has stopped and she is desperately trying to catch her breath. "Yes, yes I swear."
He grins at his victory. "Good."
She stares up at him, her view unobstructed when he is this carefree. Moments like these make her wish she could find a way to keep that shine in his green eyes there forever.
Hermione finds herself smiling back at him despite her brains insistence that she should be annoyed with him for waking her up. But the erratic muscle inside her left ribcage can't seem to ever agree with her intellectual side.
She closes her eyes and waits because she knows what he will do next and she has no objection to it.
When their lips meet it is soft and tender. She sighs into him and feels his body relax, resting a little more heavily on her but she doesn't mind.
The hands that had been tickling her senseless now spread across her waist, one of his thumbs teases the skin where her shirt had ridden up in all of her squirming.
Both her arms are draped over his shoulders, one hand dipped into the threads of his hair.
Unlike most of the kisses they've been sharing over the past week, this one is unhurried, unrushed, and more certain.
It doesn't last longer than a minute and they pull away to breathe properly. Harry buries his face into the crook of her neck and she feels the cool metal of his glasses on her heated skin. While she holds him she wonders…
Is this what it's like?
One secret that Hermione keeps to herself is that, over the years, she sometimes thinks about what life would have been like if she'd never been a witch.
It was silly, she knew, because she didn't regret it in the least. But one can't help but wonder.
Of course, if she'd never gone to Hogwarts she wouldn't have met Harry or Ron or any of her other magical (no pun intended) friends and she certainly wouldn't be here in this tent.
But growing up in the Muggle world had made her think about her future differently. Even at the innocent age of ten or eleven, she thought about boys and wondered what it must be like to hold hands with or kiss one.
During her time at Hogwarts there were times when something so - normal? - would happen and it got her thinking: does this sort of thing happen to Muggle teenagers? Would it still be happening to me if I was one of them?
Muggle girls still had to deal with boys, and dances, and hormones, and fitting in.
And now, if she closes her eyes and imagines hard enough, she could be at home for the Christmas holiday lying on the couch with- well whatever Harry was to her, as they hadn't quite established that yet - but in the Muggle world maybe he was her boyfriend.
And the only thing they had to worry about was her parents walking in on them in what she was sure they would deem an inappropriate position with him on top of her. The scariest thing she would have to encounter was her mother giving her The Talk as soon as Harry left after staying over for dinner.
Part of her, the young girl that had no idea a whole other world existed, wishes it was real; aches for it to be real.
But the other part, the rational, well-educated, realistic side of her, the witch she has been for the past seven years says no.
No, she is perfectly happy where she is right now, even if at any moment their lives could be in danger. Because in her imaginary Muggle world she might have continued to grow up in, the boy that would be lying with her on the couch in her home, waiting to be busted by her parents, would not be Harry Potter.
And the thought of not getting this chance with Harry aches worse than any thought of 'What Might Have Been'.
. . . .
As is turns out, Hermione broke her promise of not going back to sleep. But, to be fair, Harry had fallen out of consciousness first.
She had played with his hair, running her fingers through it in a soothing motion and he zonked out like a light.
Before long she had, unknowingly, joined him. The next thing she knew when she opened her eyes was that it was darker than it was when she closed them.
They were in almost the same position except Harry was only laying half on top of her now and his glasses were crooked on his nose.
One of her arms was trapped under his body, preventing her from making an easy getaway. She tugged and pulled which resulted in him rolling the other direction, off the bed and flat on his back.
The sensation of falling wakes him and he lands with an "Oof!"
She smiles apologetically at him, "Oops."
"Kicking me out, are you?" he teases.
She giggles, "I didn't mean to. I think we slept through most of the day."
He looks around and notes the dimness of the natural lighting. "Ah, well. Now we can both keep watch and I won't be so bored."
She narrows her eyes at his smug expression when she remembers how he had woken her up the first time today at the expense of his boredom.
"I'm going to get you back for that, Potter. Just you wait."
He laughs and stands up. "I expected nothing less, Granger."
She wasn't sure when they started using surnames - and she would never tell him this - but it sent tingles up her spine whenever he said hers in that deep, masculine, challenging tone.
Hermione stands and stretches her stiff muscles when her stomach lets out an embarrassingly loud grumble that she knows Harry heard because he is laughing again.
"Hungry?"
"Famished."
His lips quirk and he nods, "Good word choice. Famished, famished." He repeats the word as if testing it on his lips for the first time.
She can't help the smile stretches across her face. It is a strange sensation being this happy after having been sullen for so long.
. . .
After their third shared kiss from a week ago, they found a much calmer way to explain their thoughts and feelings. The initial shouting was mainly due to confusion and fear of rejection. But once it was clear that they were both in pretty deep, it made the process a bit more simple.
Simple but not easy.
How do you explain what you're feeling to someone when you don't even know how to explain it to yourself?
Hermione positively beat herself up trying to form the words in her own head. She would use terrible analogies and wonder if it even made any sense. If she were truthful with herself, she's fancied Harry for years.
She'd developed a small crush on him at the end of first year. Second year was spent trying to repress and ignore it. Third year it started transitioning to Ron; despite the fact that Hermione couldn't ignore that the older Harry got, the less scrawny he was and the more fit he became thanks to Quidditch.
Fourth year certainly didn't help her. With Ron and Harry in a three month row, Harry being in danger due to the blasted Tournament, and Hermione dedicating a lot of time to help him with the three Tasks, it made her realize how much she cared for him.
Of course there was also Viktor Krum, the first bloke to really fancy her. Cho Chang, the first bird for Harry to really fancy. And then Ron's insane, inexplicable jealousy of Viktor. Aforementioned jealousy lead her to believe that Ron could actually have feelings for her.
Meanwhile Harry only had eyes for Cho Chang through fourth and fifth year. Which officially knocked the sense into her; he didn't see her that way. But Ron might. And for the next two years, that's who she thought of and paid attention to.
Her self-proclaimed silly infatuation didn't cross her mind again until that fateful night.
Hermione hated having these inner monologues. Her deepest, most private thoughts sounded shallow and selfish even to her own ears. It's not that she would fancy just any bloke that gave her attention, even though attention is nice and certainly helps if you already fancy that someone.
But Ron and Harry were her best friends. They knew everything about each other. All these years investing her time, her thoughts, her heart, and soul into these two boys. Not all her time; she had other friends of course, like Ginny, and Luna, Neville, Angelina Johnson and Katie Bell, even Fred and George. There was just something different about Harry and Ron, something she couldn't help falling for.
Long story short, it had been a small, simmering flame that almost died out when six years later it lit a fuse. For a year she told herself to not let it affect her, not let it change anything. Then, seven nights ago it exploded.
. . .
Not that she told Harry all of that. But once she had organized and rationalized her own thoughts she was able to give him the condensed version.
Ever since they got rid of that particular string of tension (because there was more than one, and some were much thicker than others) Harry had been in such a cheerful mood. And she didn't mind in the least.
It was a side of him she's only seen a handful of times but this time, with it directed at her and only her, it was sensational.
He was very touchy, finding any excuse to lay a finger on her. He was playful, tickling her and taking her hand to twirl her in passing. He was energetic, motivated, and enthusiastic (almost to an annoying extent).
Oh, yes. It was safe to say Hermione liked this development of theirs very much.
Harry POV:
Harry had an absolute pep in his step. And he couldn't even bring himself to care if it was silly or ridiculous. Not one bit.
What a change from just a few days ago.
. . . .
For Harry, (it was quite the opposite of Hermione) she was always just his best friend (besides Ron, because you can have two best friends, especially if one of them is a girl and the other is a bloke) nothing more, nothing less. It was like it didn't even occur to him that they could be anything more. Until that night when her heart broke in half and he realized he would do anything to fix it.
Then she kissed him and it was like putting on a new pair of glasses when he thought he could see perfectly fine with the ones he had. It was like opening doors he didn't know were there. It was like tasting a food you'd never heard of for the first time and having a constant craving for it afterwards.
It was sudden, and revealing, and shocking, and wonderful, and scary.
And no matter how hard he tried he couldn't let it go. A year of distractions, a year of believing it was just him and she felt nothing, he finally snapped. Only to find out she'd been holding back as well.
Her words to him echo in his mind: I caved.
Meaning, she later explained, that I gave in. To you, I mean. No, I didn't want to at first. It sounded like another way to get my heartbroken if I let myself feel what I ended up feeling for Ron.
To which he responded, Phew, sounds like I have some competition.
She took it better than he thought she would and just laughed it off, Don't worry. You're already doing better than he did.
I'll never hurt you like that, he'd promised her.
And that was that.
They then decided to continue practicing their talents at snogging. It was a deep exploration complete with teeth scraping lips, and dancing tongues, and low moans of pleasure.
Since that night there had been a release of tension. Harry felt much more relaxed.
Part of it was because Hermione seemed happier and that automatically improved his mood, not to mention he could kiss her whenever he felt like it. There was just something about being able to cut her off in the middle of a sentence with his lips; he couldn't help it.
And he could touch her. Whether it was an innocent sweep of the cheek or running his lips along her ear before nipping it to get her blood rushing.
She was being a bit more forward as well. He loved it when she took the initiative with something.
Sometimes she would take his hand and rub soothing patterns along his palm and fingers, or hug him for no reason other than she wanted to. She'd take off his glasses and clean them with the hem of her shirt before placing them tenderly back on his face, she would ruffle his hair and kiss the hollow of his neck.
If he thought about it in terms of pace or timing, he would say he's quite surprised at how easily they have transitioned to this state of comfort with their physicality.
But hey, he's not complaining.
. . . . . .
(direct quotes from DH, not mine.)
.
"Harry, I think it's Christmas Eve!"
.
" 'The last enemy that shall be destroyed is death…' "
.
"He's coming! Hermione, he's coming!"
.
"Confringo!"
.
"I couldn't get the Horcrux off you. It was stuck, stuck to your chest. You've got a mark; I'm sorry, I had to use a Severing Charm to get it away. The snake bit you too, but I've cleaned the wound and put some dittany on it…"
He pulled the sweaty T-shirt he was wearing away from himself and looked down. There was a scarlet oval over his heart where the locket had burned him. He could also see the half-healed puncture marks to his forearm.
"Where've you put the Horcrux?"
"In my bag. I think we should keep it off for a while."
.
"Where's my wand, Hermione?"
The holly and phoenix wand was nearly severed in two.
"Harry, I'm so, so sorry. I think it was me. As we were leaving, you know, the snake was coming for us, and so I cast a Blasting Curse, and it rebounded everywhere…"
.
"You're still really angry at me, aren't you?"
"No. No, Hermione, I know it was an accident. You were trying to get is out of there alive, and you were incredible. I'd be dead if you hadn't been there to help me."
.
"The Forest of Dean. I came camping here once with mum and dad."
(end quotations)
. . .
Harry was keeping watch while Hermione slept. She had stayed up with him for a while but he knew she was tired and told her to get some rest.
"Maybe we should just stay here, Harry. Grow old," she'd said wistfully.
Yes, that does sound nice; being able to live. Ah, well…
He kept her wand but she flat out refused to give him the locket. She didn't think it was safe to wear after the searing mark it left on his chest so she kept it in her bag.
It was dark, it was cold, and it was Christmas Day.
Neither of them had really acknowledged it in light of the disaster that had transpired at Godric's Hollow. It frustrated him to no end how something they thought would be so promising turned into a complete catastrophe.
He thought seeing the graves of his parents might give him some closure to their deaths but instead it fueled the anger and hatred he felt toward their murderer.
They wondered if that was the place they could finally find another Horcrux or even locate the Sword but instead they were almost caught face to face with Vol- with You-Know-Who.
An utter failure, that was.
The chilling wind bites at Harry's face. Breathing through his nose stings and causes it to run which makes him sniffle every few seconds.
His thoughts continue to roll through his mind's eye which is why, when he sees something out of his peripheral vision, he thinks it is part of his imagination.
He blinks rapidly and looks on as a white ball of light peeks out over a scattering of trees in the distance. The tiny little wisps around it swirl, making the image of a doe.
Harry jumps up, shocked and amazed at what he is seeing. The doe seems to beckon to him, for him to follow where it leads.
Hardly being able to help himself, he does just that and walks after the Patronus into the darkness of the forest.
. . . .
Harry is shivering- no, shaking. He thought he'd been cold before but nothing compared to this. This was as close to the physical pain of the Cruciatus Curse he's felt since it was cast upon him right after You-Know-Who had risen at the end of fourth year.
He doesn't know all of the medical Muggle terms but he knows enough that he is sure his body is going into shock.
The Sword of Gryffindor is leaning against a fallen log while he attempts to put his clothes back on over his wet body but he never takes his eyes off it.
Even though his body is numb, his mind is racing.
Of all the places it could be the bloody Sword is at the bottom of a pond in the middle of a forest no one has heard of.
The only significance of this place is that Hermione came camping here with her parents.
Who put it there? Could it have been Dumbledore before he died? How would he have known?
He's finally finished dressing and grabs the Sword with trembling fingers. With a soft "Lumos," he traces his way back to the tent, constantly looking about for any signs of danger.
When he sees the burlap canvas he breathes a sigh of relief.
Twenty more paces. Ten, seven, five, three…
"Her-mione! Herm-ione, w-w-wake up! Hermione, I've g-got it. I've got the Sword."
One lamp lights the inside and he's never been more thankful for a flame so small. Upon his arrival, he drops the Sword and nearly collapses before Hermione - who must have heard his shouting and seen his state - catches him around the waist.
"Harry! Agrippa's Sake, what happened?" She half drags, half carries him a few more steps where he tumbles down on the bed.
His teeth are chattering, "F-f-f-f-found the Sword. At the bottom of a frozen p-p-pond. Had to j-j-j-jump in t-to get it."
She looks astonished. "Oh, you are going to explain the whole thing to me later but first we have to get you warm."
Without hesitation, she starts tugging off his sweater and jumper, then his shoes, and trousers. His clothes, which stuck to his water-covered body, froze in the wet spots on the way back making the task a bit harder to perform.
And despite feeling like he was being stabbed by pins and needles, he can't help but find the situation amusing. "So eager to steal my virtue, eh Granger?"
She pauses, looks at him incredulously, and then laughs, "You wish."
That alone warms him up.
"Er, can you, uh, remove that last bit alright by yourself?"
She's talking about his boxer shorts that cling to his lower regions like a second skin. He can't help himself, "Not how I imagined our first time being."
He's still teasing her but he's taken aback when she throws this at him, "Oh, so you've thought about it then?"
Oh, man.
"Um…"
"Right," she jumps in, whether to save him from answering or to save herself from listening he doesn't know, but he's grateful. They're not quite at the point where they have a conversation about it, much less actually doing it. "Well, I'm going to get you some fresh clothes while you. do. that."
. . .
Ten minutes later he is dressed, has chugged a cup of tea, and has Hermione clinging to him, claiming that he needs her body warmth more than she does.
Another five minutes and he has told her the whole story of seeing the doe, following it and retrieving the Sword - which is now safely tucked inside Hermione's never-ending-bag-full-of-stuff.
And an hour after he arrived at the tent they notice the early signs that dawn is on the horizon.
Harry's eyes start to droop and the last thing he is aware of is Hermione taking off his glasses and kissing him softly on the forehead, right over his scar.
Hermione POV:
Mental checklist for the day:
Make the bed? Check.
Ration the food? Check.
Snog Harry? Double check.
Destroy a Horcrux with the Sword of Gryffindor? Done.
Next? Convince Harry to go see Xenophilius Lovegood.
. . .
It took a lot of coaxing on Hermione's part. Harry was very reluctant at first, saying that it would be risky, dangerous, just like Godric's Hollow had been.
But the type of persuasion she was using was quite pleasing to both of them so really it was a win-win when Harry agreed to go talk to Luna's dad tomorrow with only the small price that she keep kissing him.
And she was all too happy to oblige.
So the bed she made that morning? Now it was a mess of tangled blankets under their tangled bodies.
And she may as well put a third checkmark next to the task called: Snog Harry.
. . .
Although it had originally been her idea, Hermione was now immensely regretting the decision to visit one Xenophilius Lovegood. He was a complete nutter.
And Harry, who had initially not wanted to go at all before she convinced him, was enthralled with this story of the Three Brothers and the possibility that the Deathly Hallows existed.
Ironically enough, though he was pleased with this newfound information, Harry had been right about the risk of repeating their Godric's Hallow incident.
Because Mr. Lovegood, though his intention was a desperate attempt to save his daughter, had betrayed their trust by selling them out.
They only narrowly escaped.
Hermione had grabbed Harry's hand and, in her panic, Disapparated to a familiar place. She vaguely remembers marking a tree as an indicator of where they'd already been and it is next to that tree that they find themselves now.
Harry starts grasping at her, "Hermione, are you alright? Are you hurt?"
When at the same time she is apologizing profusely, "I'm so sorry, Harry. You were right; that was such stupid thing to do!"
As they stumble over their words something happens that Hermione can't quite explain.
It's like a flutter in the air. She feels it pass through her and the only thing she can think to describe it is magic.
Harry must feel it too and when they look in the direction it seemed to come from they see what they could not see before.
"Ron!" They say simultaneously
The three friends run to each other, meeting in an embrace. And the questions start flying.
"What are you doing here?"
"How did you guys find me?"
"What were you thinking?"
"Where have you been?"
"I can't believe this actually worked."
"Hold on!" Hermione's voice rings out.
They all stop.
"Can we actually answer some of these questions so we all know what's going on?"
They nod.
Hermione turns to Ron and throws her hands up in exasperation. "One thing at a time. What are you doing here?"
"Looking for you. What are you doing here? Not that I'm not thrilled."
Harry answers this time, "We were following a lead." Ron raises an eyebrow in question. "It's a long story. Pretty much we went to see Luna's dad for some information."
"And?"
"And although it told us nothing about Horcruxes, we did learn-"
Hermione interrupts, "Nevermind that for now. We'll fill him in later. You, Ronald Weasley," She points at him accusingly, "What were you thinking? Where have you been? It's been weeks. You look like a caveman. Have you even been taking care of yourself? How-"
"Whoa, whoa, whoa, slow down. What happened to one thing at a time? To answer your twenty questions, I wasn't thinking when I left that night. Not clearly at least, I'd been wearing the locket all day and I think it affected me more than it did the two of you. Turned me against myself. And you."
He casts his eyes downward in shame. But continues.
"I wanted to come back as soon as I left. I just didn't know where to find you." He sighs. "I came to my senses but it was too late. So, I've been looking for you both, hoping you'd show up somewhere we'd already been. And you did."
"Well, I'm glad you're alright. But I can't believe you've been alone for over two months!" Hermione exclaims.
"I survived."
Harry walks over to him and claps him on the back, "Good to have you back, mate."
. . .
"So what did I miss?" Ron asks.
Harry proceeds to fill him in on the last nine weeks when it was just him and Hermione. She adds a few things here and there.
Ron is ecstatic when they tell him that they found the Sword and destroyed the locket. He asks questions when he seems to be lost and they answer as best they can.
Hermione notices the strange tension and the looks that Harry tosses her way as if silently asking, 'What are we going to tell him about us?'.
And, honestly, she is glad that they can't talk about it privately because she has no idea how to answer that question.
So when he sends her those pleading looks after Ron asks a question about how they've been keeping busy over the past couple months, she has to tell him only with her eyes that, 'We will talk about this later.' and hope that he understands.
. . .
They thought they were safe.
It seems that when things go wrong, it tends to happen too fast.
One moment everything is fine. The next… chaos
. . .
They had only been reunited with their long-lost friend for a few minutes, twenty at most.
She was teasing Ron about the ridiculousness of his beard and how untidy his appearance was. He was adamantly defending himself and claiming that he actually liked the beard.
Harry rejoiced when his ginger friend gave him a wand that he'd "picked off a Snatcher a couple weeks back," even though it was short-lived when he found out how little power the wand held for him compared to his beloved holly and phoenix wand.
They were all trying to overcome the awkward moments of silence, not knowing what else to say and relearning how to be around each other after what happened when Ron left.
She and Ron agree that they should probably set up the larger tent to fit all three of them once again.
Harry, perhaps in an attempt to escape said awkwardness announces, "I'm going to get some more firewood. It's freezing," he says while rubbing his hands together.
He only gets a few paces away when she hears a voice that does not belong to either of her companions.
"Well, look what we have here!"
Hermione, who had been handing tent poles to Ron, whirls around. They all see a group of men blending in with the trees surrounding them. Snatchers.
The three of them exchange terrified looks.
Harry, Ron, and Hermione are too far apart.
So they run.
"Well, don't hang about. Snatch 'em!"
They run for their lives.
. . .
They weren't fast enough.
There were too many of them.
She did the only thing she could think of to protect them and sent a Stinging Jinx flying at Harry. It hit him square in the face, right where she'd been aiming, and it knocked him flat on his back.
Then ran to him, took off the glasses from his swelling face and hoped to Merlin it would be good enough to get them by.
The man who was presumably the leader started bragging about how they had been tracking Ron, trying to catch up with him ever since their last run in with him two weeks prior when he'd Stunned one of them and stolen his wand.
And stupid, stupid Hermione. After weeks, months, of being so careful, so cautious, so terrified of being caught, we forgot to replace the boundary Ron took down in order for us to see him.
How could this have happened?
Apparently, luck was not on their side today.
The lies were not enough.
After a close inspection of Harry's forehead, where his scar should've been if it weren't stretched and contorted, the leader - Scabior was his name - says "We're not taking this lot to the Ministry."
And she had a feeling the alternative he had in mind would be much, much worse.
AN:
Whoo! That was an exciting chapter to write and I got it out in less than a week! Wow, we just covered a lot of content I feel like.
Some of the parts near the end were written identical to the end of chapter 8. This time instead of it being in Ron's POV, it was in Hermione's so of course there were some differences.
One more thing I want to make clear: This is not a Weasley-bashing story. I love the Weasley's! I love Ron and I love Ginny. I just think they're better suited for other people and Harry and Hermione are perfect together.
I hope we got a lot of questions answered this time 'round. But it may have presented you with new questions and I would LOVE to hear them!
Questions, thoughts, concerns, agree, disagree, like, dislike, love? Please tell me, I can't wait to read all the reviews!
Stay safe, and be kind!
*Sunshine*