Chapter 29
"How did you know?" Ron asked Harry drunkenly.
"I'm sorry, what?" Harry responded, frowning at his friend.
"Hermione. How did you know that she was the one?"
Harry looked at Hermione in alarm. They were lounging in the largest sitting room at Potter House with Ron wedged between them on the couch. It was the night before Ron's wedding and he and Lavender had decided they would each spend the night away from their shared flat. The last thing Ron wanted was to spend the night at the Burrow with his mother hovering and fretting and so he turned to his best friends and they'd decided to spend one last evening, just the three of them.
In the spirit of celebration they had agreed that Ron would be allowed to get mildly drunk- with a hangover potion on hand. But Harry had never expected such a question, from what he could tell Ron was completely gone over Lavender. And this time, unlike at Hogwarts, their relationship was healthy.
Well, at least most of the time. Harry was fairly sure his best mate would have committed murder to make sure his fiancee got her dream wedding. He had actually volunteered to accompany Harry and Hermione into muggle London to procure Lavender's extra roses, if it became necessary. Fortunately, it hadn't been; Astoria had seemingly only needed to snap her fingers a few times and Lavender had all the flowers she could ever wish for.
"Are you having second thoughts?" He asked Ron, his eyes never leaving Hermione's, searching for guidance.
Things had been awkward over the past week. Ginny had avoided them entirely- Harry was grateful, but he wondered if it could last. Molly had been strangely silent and he suspected that Arthur had gone out of his way to put his foot down. It wasn't something he did often, but Harry was aware that when he did, it was effective. Harry hoped that, eventually, things would get back to something like normal between him and the family. But he wasn't at all sure he could fix the heartbreak which Ron canceling his wedding would cause, or that he was prepared to have this conversation.
Thank Merlin, as always, for Hermione.
Ron snorted. "What? What are you talking about? 'Course not!" He twisted his head against the back of the couch and glared at Harry. "Why would you even ask me that?"
Harry barely managed to keep from snorting to himself at that absurd question. Only the glassy, unfocused look in his friend's eyes had him refraining. "Oh I don't know, maybe because on the night before your wedding you felt the need to ask me how I knew my wife was 'the one?' That sounds like second thoughts, you arse, don't get mad at me."
Ron blinked at him and then he laughed. "Okay, okay," he slurred, "I get your point. But I didn't mean it like that. I thought we were bonnnnding," the slur in his speech was more prominent than ever. "Last night as a trio and all that. I wanna know."
Harry glanced at Hermione again and she just shrugged. "I don't mind if you tell him, I'd quite like to hear how you answer that question myself," she shot him a coy little grin.
Harry sighed. "I think... she came back into my life and I realized that she was the one thing I didn't want to live without."
Harry braced himself, hoping that Ron's drunkenness would ameliorate the headiness of this confession.
Ron's blue eyes swiveled in his direction. "Always? Since always, right?"
Harry took a deep breath. "I think she always has been, yeah."
Ron shifted his gaze to Hermione, "and the same for you?"
"Yeah," she whispered.
"And yet you kept me around."
For a moment Harry's breath caught, preparing to defend himself, and mostly his wife, until he realized that for the first time there was no hesitation, no bitterness in his friend's tone. But Hermione reacted before he could and she jabbed Ron- hard- on his nearest bicep.
Ron recoiled. "Ow! What the hell, Mione?!"
She continued pummeling him."This is the absolute last time that you are even allowed to hint that you were superfluous to defeating Voldemort, and most of all, to our friendship!"
He blinked, but then his whole contenance calmed. "Okay, okay," he chuckled. He settled back against the couch and many long minutes passed before he looked at Hermione again. "I love you a lot, you know?" He lowered his voice, "Harry too, but it would be weird if I told him that."
"I think Harry knows," she stage whispered in return, glancing at Harry over his head.
"Hmmmmm," he agreed, his body going slack, and Hermione took the opportunity to snatch his drink from his hand. But just when she thought he was asleep he took a deep breath. "I'm going to miss you both."
Hermione nearly bit through her lip.
"We'll be back all the time, mate, Harry soothed. "I have to come back for House business, and Hermione will want to come along and help, plus she and Astoria are still working on all sorts of things."
"And I'll want to see you," she narrowed her eyes in Harry's direction and then glanced back at Ron. "It won't just be business trips."
"Of course not, I didn't mean to say it like that," Harry quickly corrected, and she smirked.
"Good," Ron mumbled, "that's really good."
Harry and Hermione eyed each other as they maneuvered Ron so that he was lying completely prone on the couch and Hermione carefully tucked a throw around his body and kissed his forehead. Then she took Harry's hand and they headed to the master bedroom.
Hermione changed in the bathroom, as was her habit, and then padded out into the master bedroom of Potter House, the majesty of which she was still becoming accustomed to. It both suited her and completely overwhelmed her.
Harry was sprawled out in the middle of the enormous master bed, sheets resting down around his hips. He grinned at her broadly when she reentered the room and extended his arms, wiggling his fingers in invitation. She sighed and shook her head. Any compulsion she'd felt to keep to her own side of the bed for the sake of their best friend downstairs disappeared at the sight of her handsome husband. He chuckled like he knew exactly what she was thinking, which he probably did.
She crawled onto the mattress and arranged herself so that she was almost entirely on top of him, one of her legs wedged between his.
"I've missed you," Hermione confessed, rocking herself against his erection demonstratively. Their week back in Britain had left them very little alone time together.
"Me too," said Harry and then he breathed out a sigh. "Merlin, witch, you are something else. We're going to have to get some bruise paste from George in the morning for Ron's arm."
"He deserved that, it's well past time he stopped doubting himself. And I feel badly, I know we're doing the best thing for us, but it also feels like we're abandoning him."
"He understands."
"I know he does, in his head, but in his place... " she sighed. "I'm really going to have to get used to transcontinental portkey travel, aren't I?"
He chuckled. "I have no problem with you buying a first class airline ticket as often as you'd like, I know how much you hate portkeys, even if they are technically more efficient."
She thought for a moment, and then bit back a smile. "Like you wouldn't be joining me if I decide I'd prefer to spend eight hours in the air rather than a few minutes grasping a portkey?"
He sighed in faux exasperation as she continued to rock against him. "Always, Hermione," he hissed. "I'll follow you, always."
