A/N: I had a very hard time working this chapter into something I was completely happy with. You as readers deserve nothing but the best and I hope you're expectations are met. I'm proud of the new life I was able to breathe into this story. I'm particularly pleased with its current progression and the way things are all starting to tie together. Hopefully, you are too.
Review, review, review! I work hard to present you with my very best efforts. The only acknowledgement of this comes from your comments – so please, take a minute or two to tell me what you think!
I still own nothing, in case you were wondering.
Look forward to quite a few, long-awaited confrontations in these next installments.
A/N 2: THANK YOU TO WHOEVER NOMINATED ME FOR "THE QUIBBLER AWARDS". I'm truly honored.
Harry was seriously considering running from the Burrow and leaving the whole mess behind him. Unfortunately, seeing as bolting wasn't really an option, he began to slowly make his way back towards the Weasley's home. He released a deep sigh of resignation and idly thrust his hands into his pockets. Something brushed against his fingers.
Curiously, he removed the contents of his pocket. The object in question was the folded note Ron had tossed to him earlier in the day. He stared at it thoughtfully for a moment. Honestly, he'd completely forgotten about it. Before, he'd had no real interest in reading it whatsoever, but the way things had transpired over the past few hours had suddenly made its message much more lucrative. Harry felt he could really use some affirmation at the moment and something told him everything he needed would be written here. It seemed like a ridiculous thought, but at the moment it was pretty much all he had to go on. He slipped a shaky finger under the first fold and then the second and the third until the paper was open to its full size.
For a moment, Harry stared at the paper without really seeing anything. Then slowly the scrawled, severe handwriting began to form words before his eyes.
Ladies and Gentlemen - It takes a strong, intelligent man to realize his dreams and achieve his goals in life and love. A man that is not afraid to live life to its fullest and embrace what is truly important; a man with above-average looks and a charming personality. But enough about me...
Harry rolled his eyes, but couldn't stop a smile from crawling across his face.
The reason we are all here today is to celebrate a very unique, very rare kind of magic; a magic that surpasses Potions and Spells and Incantations. It is Love that I speak about – the exception to all the rules and answer to all the unknowns.
If anyone had told me I'd end up being best mates with the famous Harry Potter, I'd say you were mental. If anyone had said he'd end up being a part of my family, well, I would have directed you to St. Mungos. But, here we are, after quite a long and eventful road and I can sincerely say, I'd believe just about anything nowadays. Some of you have watched us grow up. Some of you are new friends. Some of you, who we miss so dearly, are looking down on us proudly. It is only because of all of you that we are able to celebrate anything today.
I know I'm supposed to say something deep and profound about love now, but I don't know if I could possibly do it justice. I've watched something truly beautiful blossom between these two. Apart, they were a force - together they are absolutely unstoppable. They compliment each other in ways far beyond the realm of magic - something that has been apparent to me for many, many years. They have saved each other in ways fit for fairy tales, overcoming insurmountable odds to prove that goodness and love really are triumphant over all. They have taught me the importance of patience and compassion and compromise. And, in real, unending love – forgiveness can light the way for what is truly meant to be. Love is not about settling or taking the easy road – it is about fighting for what you believe in and risking everything because without that person, you'd have nothing. The complete joy and awe they bring into each others lives is truly enviable and I can only hope that one day, I find as perfect a match.
So, now, I ask you to raise your glasses in a toast to two of the most important people in my life.
Can you imagine anyone more in love?
And then the words stopped.
Harry turned the paper over in his hand, even though he knew the other side was blank. He sighed with exasperation. What was the point of this? Why had Ron been so vehement about having Harry read it? Then, something in his head seemed to click. He re-read the scrawled writing, slowly. This time, the meaning was clear. Ron wasn't describing him and Ginny. In fact, Ginny wasn't mentioned at all. Harry had become an honorary member of the Weasley family long before his proposal to the clan's youngest female. No…this wasn't about him and Ginny at all. Ron was describing him and Hermione.
Harry reeled with the possibility. It had been him and Hermione who had defied the odds, who had triumphed over evil without becoming jaded and cold. It was him and Hermione who taught Ron patience and compromise and rationality. It was him and Hermione who'd shared a special connection since the tender, early age of eleven. The subtly placed bit on forgiveness also made Harry wonder if Ron had known something of the truth well before Hermione had showed up this afternoon. He read it over again, further solidifying his suspicions.
Harry scratched his head and felt his shoulders sag. Nothing made sense anymore. This morning, he had been confident and excited. He had been anxious to officially declare his love and devotion to Ginny. He couldn't wait to get married, to move on, to definitively leave his past behind him. But, that was just it. This was all a selfish ploy. Harry's stomach flipped nauseatingly. Getting married was not truly about spending the rest of his life with Ginny, was it? No, it was merely a way to further the distance between himself and Hermione. But now, Hermione was here and she'd unfairly dropped some heavy information on him. She'd completely turned his world upside-down, again, and while the blame was obviously on her tactlessness, Harry wasn't completely innocent. After all, he was the only one who could grant her such power.
Despite the way his stomach churned, Harry was surprised by a peculiar weightlessness that had accosted his being. Subconsciously, he had long wrestled with the decision to marry Ginny. He had been plagued by doubts and worries, but he'd ignored them. He had pushed them out of his mind, attributing the thoughts to normal pre-wedding jitters. Harry tilted his head, thinking hard. Proposing to Ginny had been a choice, a conscious decision with carefully inspected pros and cons. Spending the rest of his life with Hermione had always been a given. He never actually said "I want to marry you", because he'd never felt the need. It would be like announcing the sky was blue or Hedwig was an owl. It was obvious, the next eventual step in a series of pre-determined, expected events. It was never a conscious question, because it was just a common certainty. The sun would rise tomorrow morning, because that's just what happens. You needn't ask it or even acknowledge it; it's all part of an intrinsic, logical cycle.
Of course, that had been before and regardless of whether or not Hermione truly was still the only person for him, one thing was apparent – Ginny was not. He had justified his feelings countless times. Ginny was smart and beautiful. She loved life and took any curves head on. She was funny and compassionate and selfless. They shared interests, got along great, had incredible sex and rarely argued. But something was lacking; something Harry had avoided acknowledging. There was no real sense of awe or striking passion. While at the end of the day, Harry looked back fondly on the time he'd spent with Ginny, it had been the early morning hours during his time with Hermione that had really moved him. Waking up beside her, with the day stretching out limitlessly before them, endless possibilities abound, Harry had been repeatedly struck with a thrilling wave of wonder. He was taken back by the simple gift of being in her presence, the prospect of empty hours waiting to be filled.
A thick sigh escaped from Harry's barely parted lips. Heartbreak was not foreign and he'd been making difficult decisions since he was eleven. This one, however, was painfully challenging - not that he really had a choice in the matter anymore.
He carefully refolded the paper containing Ron's scribbled writing and placed it back securely in his pocket. Swallowing hard, he continued slowly towards the backyard of The Burrow, hoping with each step that he could somehow keep his resolve.
Hermione stared into the sink. She wondered how long she could possibly stay locked in the loo before someone came knocking. She raised her eyes slowly and met those of a familiar, plain looking girl. She sighed sadly at her reflection in the mirror above the sink. For being the most brilliant witch of her age, she'd sure made some stupid choices. She turned on the faucet, wetting her hands then pressed her cool, moist palms against her cheeks. There was really no reason to stay and endure this torture any longer. Surely, this would most likely be the last time she spoke to Harry and she doubted he'd care much if she didn't stick around. He'd probably prefer if she left, actually. She knitted her brows, determined to keep from crying again. She wondered what she would do now. It seemed as though she'd had her life on hold, waiting for the moment when she could finally make things right. Apparently, that time had come and gone, if it had ever even existed at all.
Her train of thought was suddenly derailed by a soft knocking on the door. She could feel her heart begin thumping faster and a large lump lodged itself in her throat. What if it was Harry?
Carefully, she reached for the doorknob, giving it a slow turn and pull. The door creaked open, revealing the knocker. It was not Harry, but instead of relief, Hermione was seized with paralyzing terror. It was someone worse – much worse.
Ginny stood in the doorway looking incredibly small. The long, full fabric of her gown was bunched into her fists, effectively hiking up the skirt and revealing a pair of white, untied sneakers. In the past, Hermione would have found this hidden, signature-Ginny addition funny, but today and under the circumstances, she could barely force a smile.
"Ginny…hi," Hermione croaked. Her mind was running wildly through possible scenarios. How would Ginny react to her presence?
"Hi." Ginny nodded then tilted her head thoughtfully. "It's been a long time," she said softly.
Now it was Hermione's turn to nod.
An uncomfortable silence stretched between them. The tension was so thick, Hermione could barely breathe. She shifted nervously on her feet.
"Well, I'm done if you needed to use the loo," Hermione said, wanting nothing more than to bolt from where she currently stood. She moved forward, hoping to slip around Ginny and run as fast as she possibly could down the hall and out of The Burrow. Ginny, however, moved to block her way.
"Actually, I was hoping we could talk."
Hermione bit her lip as her stomach flipped. She had no idea what Ginny could possibly want to talk about, but she guessed it would be something along the lines of "stay away from Harry". Of course, who could blame her? Hermione would just have to reassure her that she was planning to do just that – without any prompting.
Ginny moved into the small room, giving Hermione no choice but to back up. She closed the door softly behind her then leaned back against it. Hermione felt a flutter of panic, realizing she was now trapped. Of course, in desperation she could apparate, but she was really hoping the situation would not escalate to such extremes. Ginny chewed thoughtfully on her thumb nail. A sudden question popped into Hermione's head and dribbled out of her mouth before she could stop herself.
"How did you know I was in here?"
"I saw you…when you walked passed my door," Ginny answered.
Hermione's mouth went dry. What else had Ginny seen, or worse, heard? Seconds of silence ticked by painfully. Ginny cleared her throat.
"Listen, Hermione – I know why you're here. I mean, not exactly, but I have enough of an idea. I guess I sort of expected it really. I always figured you'd show up eventually. Not sure I thought you'd wait this long, but it's something I did prepare for."
Hermione stared, unblinking. She wanted to say something, but her mouth refused to form words. Ginny continued.
"You've always been around…not literally of course, but you have. Harry…he gets this look – like he's watching the most incredible thing, but no one else can see it. It's secret and that makes it special. Sometimes, when he's looking at me…well, he's not. He's looking passed me; through me. He's not seeing me – he's seeing you."
Hermione felt a strange tightness in her throat. She could feel moisture burning just behind her eyes. She swallowed thickly.
"I know what you did. I know how badly you hurt him. I know, because I helped put the pieces back together. I did it because I wanted to and I'd do it all over again if I had the chance, but the whole time, I also knew the risk I was taking. I knew he might not be ready…might not be able to love me the way I loved him. But see, everything with Harry – it's always been a risk."
Ginny's breath hitched in her throat and Hermione reflexively winced. There was silence as the small red-head regained her composure then with a deep breath, she continued.
"I can't compete with you," Ginny said dully. Hermione's eyes widened and she leaned her hip against the sink for support. Again, she tried to form words, but an obvious disconnection had happened between her brain and her mouth. And, quite possibly her ears it now seemed.
"You slept with Viktor…or didn't sleep with Viktor…or whatever it is…but, I still can't compete. Maybe all your escapades by Harry's side throughout Hogwarts granted you immunity or something, I don't know. Maybe you've saved him enough times to truly be deserving of his unconditional affection. I won't judge, but I can't help but wonder every single day why I'm not."
Ginny sniffed and wiped at her eyes.
"Ginny, he loves you," Hermione breathed. Her voice sounded odd and unfamiliar.
The red-head smiled wistfully and shook her head. The edges of her eyes sparkled with wetness.
"He wants to love me. He wants to love me so that he doesn't have to admit he's still in love with you."
Hermione felt tears spill over onto her cheeks. There was simply not enough room in her body for all the emotions she was feeling.
Ginny sighed and straightened.
"I'm sorry," Hermione whispered pitifully and she was. Her lie had caused so much damage and so much hurt. She hated her self more than ever in that moment; despised every inch of her being.
Ginny shrugged.
"I just…I just wanted to talk to you. I wanted to try and understand…to see what he sees."
There was another space of silence then Ginny swallowed hard and wordlessly let herself out the door.
Hermione stood alone, horrifically bewildered for a few moments. It was as though her body had been Petrified. Then, her brain seemed to click back on and she bolted from the loo. She ran out into the hallway, down the stairs and clear through the kitchen. She pumped her legs as hard as she could until she reached the spot where her father had parked their auto. She flung the door open and dove into the backseat, a huge, inhuman wail escaping her lips in the process. She curled into a ball on the seat, being sure to keep her head below the windows. She cried into her knees, shaking with the force of her sobs until she could barely breathe.