A/N: So here we are, the final installment of The Bingo Trilogy™. If you aren't sure what that means, please see the A/N for my story A One Night Stand In Three Acts for more information on this unrivaled (not really), epic (nope), and unprecedented (maybe?) undertaking.
I mentioned in the previous A/N that writing is a funny thing. Sometimes I get a prompt and quickly plot out a clear path of what will happen, only to have it evolve into something bigger and/or slightly different. For this prompt, I went down an entirely different path than what I'd first imagined. I had something very specific in mind and ready to go, then while walking the dog another idea popped into my head. And funnily enough, that same concept ended up being a main theme of this story.
The bingo trope for this installment is Felix Felicis but in the end, it played a minor role. Suffice is to say, I'm willing to bet this isn't what you would expect from a story prompted by Felix Felicis. But nevertheless, I hope you enjoy.
Hermione stood in front of 12 Grimmauld Place and gathered herself. The floo was her normal method for visiting Harry, but that was entirely too immediate and sudden for today's visit. Though she was now under a massive time crunch, she needed every bit of the fifteen-minute walk to plot and plan out what to say. Having such a temporal shift in her plan at the last minute, after so much plotting and planning had already been done, was less than ideal, because this had to work. She didn't know what she would do if this plan didn't work. There were suddenly multiple new variables to account and plan for over the next few hours, and everything hinged on-
The door flying open interrupted her musings. Just seeing his face settled her nerves a bit.
"Hermione? What's wrong?" They'd said their awkward, unnatural goodbyes two days ago, and it was clear her appearance on Harry's doorstep was unexpected.
"Why would you think something is wrong?" she replied, brushing past him and making a beeline to the sitting room. She desperately needed to sit. Sitting would help.
"Kreacher said you've been standing out there for ten minutes and you looked like your brain was whirring," he replied.
"My brain does not whirr," she said.
Harry grinned. "Buzzing?"
Hermione smiled, and she felt herself relax a bit more; which was the precise reason she was here.
"I need you to come to Australia with me," she blurted.
The gob smacked expression on Harry's face was entirely warranted. She and Ron had decided several weeks ago that the trip to restore her parents' memories would be an excellent way to settle into their new relationship, which meant informing Harry that, despite his willingness, they did not want him to accompany them. Harry's reaction to their plan, and the dread she felt as soon as the words had left her mouth, should have been a red flashing light of how ill advised, counterproductive, and wrong their decision had been.
Although it was clear that he'd been hurt and disappointed, and he'd been quieter and brooded for a bit, Harry did his best to put on a happy face, going so far as securing them access to the Minister of Magic's floo. What she'd thought would be an interminable and annoying six hour, four portkey slog, was now going to be virtually instantaneous. Harry hated using his name and influence but he'd done it, unprompted, for her, days after she and Ron had effectively rejected him.
Ron wouldn't have handled this nearly as well, she remembered thinking at the time. He would have raged and stormed out of the room. He would have eventually calmed down, but he certainly wouldn't have thought to do something so helpful.
That initial warning sign should have clued her in to the flaw in her plan, but because she was stubborn and desperately held onto the concept of what being in a relationship with Ron could be, as opposed to what it would be, she'd ignored it. Her stomach had been in knots before they'd gotten up the nerve to tell Harry, but she assumed the knots would disappear once they'd cleared that rather uncomfortable hurdle. But the knots remained ever present and had grown exponentially by the-
She'd gotten lost in her thoughts again. Her brain was definitely whirring, and buzzing, and whatever other appropriate descriptors applied, but Harry had taken a seat and was patiently waiting for her to continue. He noticed she'd come back to the present and smiled, which caused her to relax a bit more. After the unnaturalness and forced emotions of the last few weeks, being able to settle into this rhythm, this rightness, was revelatory.
"Over the last couple of weeks, as my trip has gotten closer, my nerves have been growing, and I need to be calm. I can't stop thinking about the what-ifs: What if I mishandle the memory reversal? What if my parents hate me? What if they're afraid to be around me? What if they've been unhappy and miserable and hate Australia? What if something totally random and awful has happened to one or both of them, and they would have actually been safer in England-"
"Hermione..."
Right. She was rambling. Harry's interruption had helped stem the rambling before she shared some of the truly insane what ifs involving scorpions, kangaroos, and dingoes that had been whirring in her brain. And she didn't even want to think about the drop bears that Luna had warned her-
She'd gotten caught up in her thoughts again. And worst of all, it had involved Luna's insane story about fanged koala bears that dropped from trees and attacked unsuspecting muggles. Hermione had come up with a well thought out speech on the walk here and she was already going totally off script. She took a breath.
"Ron's tried to help…he really has…but it isn't working. We aren't working. I kept waiting for it to work; and the fact that it never started working has only added to my nerves. Can you imagine how much it would have escalated once we were in Australia and had to navigate the added stress of him being in the muggle word? Not to mention dealing with my parents-"
"Hermione..."
She'd barely gotten two sentences in and she was already rambling again. She took another breath.
"I know it's last minute, and I know you were hurt that I didn't want you to come originally, and I'm sure you have plans for the-"
"Hermione!"
This was stupid. Her planned script was stupid and contained entirely too many words. Sod the plan. This was Harry, and Harry never stuck to the plan.
"I need you there. I'm terrified, and thinking about you being there with me makes me feel less terrified. Please."
She felt a bit selfish because, despite her irrational fears, she was almost positive what Harry's answer would be. She'd spent years studying Harry Potter and she knew, when it really mattered, Harry always came to the rescue.
"Kreacher!" Harry called, and the elf shuffled into the room. "Master Potter called?"
"I'm going to be gone for-" He looked at her.
She fought the urge to scream in relief. "Two weeks. Three weeks at the most."
"Three weeks," he repeated to the elf. "And I'll be leaving-"
"10:00 tonight," she informed, wiping away the relieved tears that had begun to fall.
"Tonight," he repeated to the elf. "So you'll have to continue the cleanup by yourself for a bit."
The elf did his best to hide his disappointment at the news, and it struck Hermione how Harry-like his reaction had been. It appeared even Kreacher wasn't immune to Harry's influence.
Hermione lurched forward and clung. "Thank you," she finally managed as she felt the knots recede ever so slightly.
It was clear that her forceful reaction had taken him by surprise, but Harry had become much better at handling her forceful reactions over the years. He simply grabbed on and muttered, "Of course."
And then it happened. For the first time in years, she had to tamp down on the urge to tell Harry that she was hopelessly in love with him. Over the years she had convinced herself otherwise and, after a time, the urge had become virtually undetectable. But having her Plan B flame out so spectacularly had opened the floodgates to dreaming about Plan A once again.
But this was not the time or the place…and restoring her parents' memories was her main priority…and Harry didn't feel that way about her; he'd reconnected with Ginny and he didn't feel that way about her. It was a wonderful future to consider but it wasn't realistic, and this was more than enough. Harry's friendship and counsel was more than enough.
As they began their drive to Sydney, for the first time since Harry had agreed to join her, Hermione allowed herself to take a breath. They'd had to stay a bit longer than she'd hoped at the Australian Ministry, but that had been factored into the plan once Harry had agreed to accompany her. Harry's exploits had spread across the globe, and while she suspected he would be able to remain relatively anonymous in many parts of the world, given the recency of Harry's latest ridiculous feat and Australia's Commonwealth status, it was inevitable that a few local dignitaries would want to glean a photo opportunity from his arrival.
To her surprise, they were almost as excited to get their picture taken with her. Given Australia's origins, they were infinitely more sympathetic to muggleborns, and it appeared their victory over the purebloods had served as a bit of validation. Getting to celebrate a muggleborn that had so spectacularly helped stick it to the purebloods had elevated her status here. She'd experienced a bit of the attention Harry had to deal with on a daily basis and it was awful. They all meant well, and it thrilled her to some extent, but they were meant to be going and kept being pulled back.
Eventually they had made their way to the muggle side of Canberra and fetched their rental car without issue. Harry, because he was in many ways still an idiot, offered to drive. His total lack of experience and the disturbing gleam in his eye had been more than enough for her to shut down that train of thought immediately. Besides, she'd obtained her driver's license precisely for this sort of situation. As they made the drive to Sydney, she found the serenity and calm of the muggle form of transportation to be exactly what she needed to help settle her nerves to prepare for what was to come.
Harry had quickly become enraptured at having control of the radio and quizzed her on what songs she was familiar with. She hadn't really kept up with muggle music over the years and had failed miserably at the quiz, but discussing and discovering the various songs that played with Harry had been fun and different. Their discussions over the last few years had been so consequential and important; it was nice to chat about something so benign and normal. She'd never seen Harry look as happy as when a song she finally recognized came on and she'd managed to sing along to almost every word. Hermione knew she should feel embarrassed, and she did…but it was a good sort of embarrassed. Being a bit ridiculous and vulnerable in front of someone who would celebrate and accept it, regardless of how ridiculous she looked, felt special and unique; something that was only possible with Harry. She'd never imagined that the Spice Girls could supply her with such a wonderful memory, but Wannabe had indeed worked its magic.
They were several hours into their journey when she finally broached the subject she was simultaneously excited and terrified to ask about.
"So, how are you and Ginny?"
Harry shrugged. "We broke up. When I told her I was going to Australia with you she sort of lost it. She knew that Ron wasn't going by then and expected it, I think. She said she was tired of me not making her a priority."
"I'm sorry," she replied sincerely. Despite her feelings for Harry, she wanted him to be happy. The possibility that she had derailed that possibility was not pleasant.
"Don't worry about it," he consoled. "We'd just made it through all the funerals and planned to spend the rest of the summer together, and then I came up with something else to do immediately. I don't blame her."
She remained silent, not knowing what to say. Above anyone else, Harry deserved every scrap of happiness he could manage, and she'd ruined his first chance at a bit of peace and normalcy.
"It's really okay."
Damn it all. She'd gotten out of practice schooling her expressions in front of Harry.
"It's not okay," she blurted. "If anyone deserves a break it's you, and I've-"
"Stop it," Harry interrupted. "It wasn't the same as before and she was right to end it. My heart wasn't in it and Ginny knew it."
"But-"
She'd only been able to get that one word out before Harry interrupted once again. "When I went to the Ministry to set up your Floo trip, I was bombarded by people in the atrium. It was like the Great Hall after we'd won all over again; total chaos. It took awhile but Kingsley sent a few of his people and they got me out of there. They took me down some back hall for more privacy, but there was one Ministry employee we passed...she saw me and started crying. She just stood there crying and thanking me."
She must have looked horrified on his behalf because Harry chuckled. "It was fine…just different. I actually ended up hugging her if you can believe it. It feels unreal when it's all those people…but having this one stranger thank me…I don't think it had sunk in what we'd accomplished until that moment. It felt good to know how much I'd helped that woman…Abigail…her name was Abigail…but she insisted on me calling her Abby. She works in the Ministry canteen and said I'd earned free coffee and pie for life. I remember wishing I could help you as much as I'd helped that woman…to pay you back for all that you've done for me. I reckon helping you with your parents is a good start."
Harry's unexpected revelation caught her breath. She wanted to respond but couldn't come up with the words and, despite her best efforts, a few tears emerged.
"Oh Christ. I'm sorry, Hermione."
"It's okay," she replied, giving him a reassuring smile and wiping her eyes. "They're good tears. And you don't owe me anything."
"Agree to disagree," Harry answered before flipping through the radio stations once again.
Hermione pounded on the steering wheel in frustration as she let the tears, the bad kind tears, pour freely and unbidden.
Everything had gone according to plan; they'd spent the last few days adjusting their sleep schedules to the time difference, and after two days of searching, had successfully located the dental practice of Monica and Wendell Wilkins. She'd justified making the phone call as one final bit of confirmation that it was indeed her parents and not another pair of muggle dentists that bore the exact same names. It was a ridiculous, irrational thing to be worried about; the chances of there being a pair of dentists located in Sydney with the exact same names was infinitesimal. But she'd lied to herself to justify the call instead of admitting the truth; that she ached to hear her parents' voices again, if only for a moment.
But while she did hear her mother's voice, it was a recorded message: a recorded message informing her that Wilkins Dentistry would be closed from July 1st through July 8th, and should you need emergency treatment-
That was the point where she'd slammed the receiver down, sprinted from the phone booth to their car, and started crying.
This was all wrong. She was meant to be restoring her parents' memories on the third of July. The number three was a very powerful magical number and she needed everything to be perfect because she had no clue how she would be able to manage it if this went wrong. Even the seventh was out, and she'd now lost an entire week of spending time with her parents before Hogwarts started. Everything was going wrong and she couldn't do this. She was going to foul this up, or they were going to hate her, which was a moot point because they would most likely succumb to a pack of drop bears during their holiday, and she was never going to see her parents again.
At some point Harry had gotten into the car and she started unthinkingly blurting out all the words that had been whirring in her brain. Over the years she'd always done her best to have these panic attacks away from Harry's prying eyes and ears, but everything was going wrong and she was terrified, and talking at Harry made her less terrified. Harry sat patiently and listened to every rational and irrational thought she vomited out, keeping quiet for the most part. Occasionally, when she said something particularly insane, he'd grin, and despite herself, she would grin with him, and every time she became just a little bit less terrified. Harry waited until she'd gotten it all out of her system before responding.
"This gives us a bit more time to scout out their neighborhood and maybe do a bit of sightseeing as a distraction while we wait. I've never been on a proper holiday," Harry offered.
"We were meant to leave the potential sightseeing options to do with my parents-"
"Because things might be awkward and spending time doing touristy things would help ease you back into the relationship. We went over this the night before we left…and during the drive…and before we went-"
"You aren't funny," Hermione snapped feebly. She'd never been able to pinpoint exactly why, but getting Harry to tease her always felt good; like she'd pulled something out of him most people would never see. His kind, mischievous smile always felt like a gift.
"We can go to a magical part of the country then. It would be cool to see how different it is here. I think the Quidditch season is over, but maybe we could go to a Quodpot match."
Hermione knew he was lying. She knew Harry and she knew that his own desire to delve into Australian magical culture had nothing to do with his suggestion. That's what she wanted to do if there was time after her parents were sorted. But his suggestion was meant for her, and would serve as a nice distraction as they waited for her parents to return from their holiday, assuming they managed to avoid drop bears.
Her irrational side wanted to stubbornly remain focused on the negative, and how thoroughly non-magical the date would be when she'd be able to restore her parents' memories, and the sodding week she would have to wait. But Harry was here, and that was more important and powerful than any number or delay could ever hope to be. Her irrational side sighed in defeat, once again vanquished by Harry Potter.
"That sounds good."
Harry grinned and exited the car before leaning back down to look at her. "I'll check the phone book to see if we can get their home address. Once we sort that out we can get some dinner, yeah?" She nodded her agreement and Harry trekked back to the phone booth to begin his investigation.
She wiped away her tears, checked her face in the mirror, and started the car. If she'd guessed right her parents' home would be near the coast and she was sure they could find a nice place along the beach nearby to eat. Harry had never seen the ocean before…
As interminable as the wait had been, the plan had gone perfectly. They'd had over a week to scout the neighborhood, refine their plan even further, and everything was going perfectly. They had apparated a few blocks away at a nearby construction site and made the moonlight trek to 21 Brookthorn Lane under the invisibility cloak.
Thankfully, unlike their house in Britain, the Wilkins had not had the time or inclination to splurge for a security system, and after a quick Alohomora, they entered the house. Hermione had a brief misstep when she let out a squeak when Crookshanks bounded up to her. He looked thoroughly disappointed in her for taking so long, and it was such a Crookshanks expression that she couldn't manage to stop the squeak before it escaped. But Harry shushed her with a grin, her parents remained asleep, and Crooks followed them into the bedroom, leaped onto the bed, and began his silent observation.
Hermione had felt a twinge of guilt initially when she'd come up with the plan to break into her parents' house and restore their memories in the middle of the night, but that transgression, when compared to the memory modifications and compulsion charms that had sent them halfway across the world, seemed minor.
Harry had practiced the sleep spell diligently in the week leading up to this moment and cast it on both of her already slumbering parents flawlessly. While they were both sound asleep when they'd arrived, it was prudent to ensure it was as sound as possible.
It wasn't until Harry cast the silencing charm and nodded for her to begin that the panic hit her in full force once again. She'd raised her wand and pointed it carefully at her mother's forehead, slightly above her brow to maximize the charms' effectiveness, and…nothing. The words wouldn't come…and as the seconds passed, and no words came, her hand began trembling…and she'd meant to do this precisely at 3:00 am, but that was five minutes ago and her hand was now shaking so badly she could barely keep hold of her wand.
She pulled the vial out of her pocket that she'd procured for just this situation. She was blocked from downing its contents by Harry.
"What is that?" Harry asked in a whispered hush.
"Felix Felicis," she supplied.
For the first time since he'd agreed to help, Harry frowned.
"It's no good," she pleaded. "Seeing their faces…it's too much. I can't-"
She was startled into silence as Harry grabbed the vial and stowed it away in his own pocket, then gripped her hand
"You don't need luck. Your plan has worked perfectly so far and this is just one more step in the plan. You know the spell, you know the wand movement, and it's time for us to finish the plan."
She looked into his eyes, and for the second time in the last week, she had to tamp down on the urge to tell Harry that she was hopelessly in love with him.
But Harry probably didn't feel the same way about her, and she needed to finish her plan. It had been over a year and she was so close to finishing her plan. And she didn't need Felix Felicis because Harry was here…holding her hand…and she couldn't wait to hear her parents' voices again.
She raised her wand, pointed it slightly above her mother's brow, and finished the plan.
Hermione was meant to be doing something…anything…but had instead spent the entire day taking turns between sitting on the edge of her hotel bed and pacing, waiting for Harry to return from his visit with her parents. Harry being interrogated by her parents without her there had never been part of the plan.
Thanks to Harry, she'd restored her parents' memories exactly as planned, and the pair had patiently waited in the kitchen, Crookshanks nestled in her lap, for them to awake. The three hour wait had been excruciating, but Harry had held her hand, she'd laid her head on his shoulder, and scratched Crookshanks in his favorite spot to pass the time. But soon enough her confused parents emerged from their bedroom, wrapped their arms around her, and she cried a flood of tears. Good tears.
The moment had been so overwhelming that it was several minutes before her parents noticed Harry quietly standing in the corner, holding Crookshanks. After introductions were made, and the emotion and relief of the moment passed, the weight of what Hermione had done, what she had done to them, settled in. The joy and relief at seeing their daughter had been replaced with anger and betrayal.
She had anticipated this and had agreed with Harry that, if this happened, he would leave and let her begin the difficult discussions, alone. It was the prudent thing to do, but she felt a profound sense of loss as Harry gave her a reassuring nod and disappeared from sight.
Their stunted and awkward discussions eventually evolved into proper conversations, and she explained the how's and why's of what she had done. But to adequately explain the why, she had to talk about so many things that she'd kept from them for years. Whereas once they had thought of Harry as the slightly awkward boy who had been a good friend to their daughter, her stories had cast him in a different light.
He was the boy that his daughter had risked her life repeatedly for…the boy who she'd modified her own parents' memories and went on a suicide mission for. She'd done her best to explain how amazing and selfless Harry was…how he deserved anything and everything she could do on his behalf…but based on her parents' expressions, they'd come to a different conclusion. He was the boy their daughter had chosen over them. The worst part was they were right.
They'd spent two days together as a family and had managed to avoid any prolonged screaming matches or unthinking insults that couldn't easily be taken back. But despite the progress they'd made, they were so frustratingly far from what they used to be. As happy as they were to have their daughter back, they were angry, hurt, and to Hermione's dismay, somewhat afraid of her.
She remembered how excited her parents had been to see her do magic during the Christmas break after her seventeenth birthday. But those moments were nothing but a memory, and she purposely kept her wand stowed away and hidden during her visits for fear of angering them; or worse...frightening them.
She'd been all set to spend the next day with Harry while her parents went to work when, to her surprise, they informed her that they'd cancelled all their appointments and wanted to spend the day talking to Harry. Only Harry.
Harry's reaction to the request hadn't surprised her in the least: While initially looking surprised and slightly scared, he immediately nodded his agreement.
"Any last words of advice?" he asked before leaving their hotel room.
If this had been part of the plan she would have written out a long list of do's and don'ts…her parents' likes and dislikes…topics to avoid; the list would have been very long and very detailed. But as she wrapped him in a hug, she realized it wasn't necessary; because it was Harry. She buried herself into his chest and wondered once again how she would have managed this trip without him.
"Just be yourself, they'll love you."
She was all set to force herself to finally leave the stifling hotel room and find some supper when Harry's silvery stag bounded into the room. "Your parents want you to join us for dinner. They said you can apparate into the guest bedroom."
The stag disappeared and she felt tears falling once again. Hermione had cried so much over the last few days, she thought she would have run out of tears by now, but suddenly felt foolish for worrying so much. Her parents were good people…and good people were drawn to Harry like moths to a flame.
She quickly checked her appearance and prepared to apparate. Now that her nerves had receded slightly she was suddenly starving.
As she popped into her parents' house, she was greeted by her mother. "I thought the crack would be louder," she commented idly.
"The what?"
The crack," she continued, "I remembered reading about it, and your Harry warned us, but it wasn't that bad. Does it sound different for each person?"
And suddenly she was transported back to that last Christmas with her parents, before Dumbledore died and everything went to hell. Whenever Hermione had cast a new spell her father would grin like a loon and her mother would give her impressions before bombarding her with questions.
It was a mundane and meaningless comment, except, at that moment, it meant everything. She sprinted into her mother's arms.
"I'm sorry, Mum," she mumbled for the thousandth time in the last few days, as the good tears began falling once again.
"We'll get there, Janey," she comforted, "we'll get there."
She nodded into her mother's shoulder. When the hug finally ended, her mother asked her to dry her sopping wet shoulder, and the tears flowed once again. She'd cast myriad drying spells over the years; it was one of the most basic and simplest charms to learn. But having her mother trust her, after what she'd done, it was too much. Her wand hand had trembled slightly until she'd remembered Harry's instruction.
You know the spell, you know the wand movement, and it's time for us to finish the plan.
Those words, Harry's words, were enough, and she cast the thoroughly mundane enchantment without a problem. Her mother inspected her work and muttered, "That's our Hermione," and wrapped an arm around her waist as she pulled her toward the door. The words hadn't been invented, in any language, to explain how much the utter normalcy of the moment meant to her.
"The crack varies for each person," she finally supplied. "I purposely try to keep mine quieter. Harry's is typically very loud…unless he needs to be quiet…then it's much quieter than I can manage. Harry can cast spells better than me when he really wants to." She could feel the grin splitting her face at getting to resume their old routine.
"He's not my Harry, by the way," she offered half-heartedly as they made their way to Harry and her father.
"Just because he hasn't said it out loud doesn't make it any less true."
The rest of the evening had been lovely; not anything like it used to be, but whatever Harry said had helped tremendously, and her parents getting to share stories of her Pre-Hogwarts days had helped brighten the mood considerably. Harry would always laugh in the right places and occasionally chime in with an equally embarrassing story of his own. Her parents particularly enjoyed her opinion that getting killed was preferable to expulsion.
Hermione was so exhilarated that, once the evening had come to an end, she suggested they walk for a bit before apparating back to the hotel. They'd barely made it down her parents' drive before her excited interrogation began. "What did you say to them?"
Harry's casual shrug was infuriating and she punched him in the shoulder.
"What was that for?" he asked, grinning.
"This-" she mimicked his ridiculous shrug, "is not a suitable answer. Not nearly."
"Fine," Harry acquiesced, "but it might make you mad."
"That still isn't an answer. Give me an answer," she nearly screamed, only amusing him more.
"Well first of all, they are just like you. They didn't beat around the bush. I'd barely sat down when they asked if I agreed with what you had done to them."
"And you said?" she prompted.
Harry took a breath. "I said I didn't, which helped me with your parents, I think. Then I told them about the Firebolt."
"You compared me wiping my parents' memories to a broomstick?"
He nudged her shoulder with his, knocking her slightly off the sidewalk. "Do you want the explanation or not?"
She laughed and nudged him back. It had little to no effect as, due to his size and stature, Harry's pace was barely affected and he remained firmly on the sidewalk. She didn't mind.
"If you'd asked me to get my broom inspected, there was a chance I would've refused, so you did it behind my back. I told them you were willing to risk losing my friendship because it was more important that I was safe. You should have asked me…we should have talked about it…but you didn't want to take the risk, and you were willing to sacrifice your own happiness in order to eliminate the risk. When it involves people you care about, you have a saving people thing that makes your brain go a bit wobbly."
Hermione opened her mouth to respond but stopped. That was exactly the same thing as she had done to her parents. And as annoying as it was to have her own words thrown back in her face, he was right.
The best she could manage was a feeble, "My brain does not go, nor has it ever gone, wobbly." But her heart wasn't in it, and all it did was cause Harry to grin.
"Your mum said you would have never forgiven someone if they'd done that to you."
Hermione nodded sadly, unable to argue with her mother's assessment.
"I disagreed. I told them I thought you would eventually; if it was someone who cared about you and they had done it for the right reasons. Even though I think it was wrong, you did it for the right reasons, and sacrificed a lot for it. You've had to make so many sacrifices."
She wanted to laugh and point out that any sacrifices she had made paled in comparison to what he'd suffered over the years, but Harry didn't like talking about that, so she merely nodded her agreement and inched a bit closer.
Harry pulled out her bottle of Felix Felicis and held it out for her to take. "I took this with me in case it didn't go well. If I set them off too much I was planning on sneaking into the loo and getting a bit of liquid courage. But it wasn't bad. It was a little intimidating having two versions of you interrogating me, though."
"They aren't that bad, and I'm not that bad." she protested.
"They are absolutely that bad and you are most definitely that bad," he replied, "but it's great. It was nice to see where you got it from and exchange stories. Your parents are brilliant, just like you."
Hermione looked into his eyes, and for the third time, she felt the urge to tell Harry that she was hopelessly in love with him.
There was a small part of her that still worried that he didn't feel the same way, but her mother said he belonged to her, and her mother was exceedingly smart. And the plan was done…it had taken over a year but the plan was finally done…and she wanted nothing more than to take another road trip with Harry; she would be at the wheel while he constantly fiddled with the radio.
She thought about downing the Felix Felicis in her pocket but pushed back on the urge; because this was Harry…and with Harry she didn't need luck…and she didn't need to be worried about being embarrassed…because being embarrassed in front of Harry wasn't scary.
"I am so in love with you," she blurted, failing to hold back the grin that formed at finally saying something so good and right out loud. It was the third time she'd felt compelled to say the words, but somehow she knew that this was the perfect moment. Three was a magic number after all, and she would have spontaneously combusted if she held it in any longer. It had taken her far too long to utter the words that she desperately wanted to say, and Harry deserved to hear.
The nervous, insecure fourteen-year-old, bushy-haired part of her braced for him to pull back…or stutter and sprint away. But that version of herself was well in the past, and Harry…her Harry, would never react that way. They had been through too much for him to ever pull away.
He stopped walking.
"So it isn't just me?" he asked, relieved and happy. He was so clueless.
The tears came once again…the good tears. "It isn't just you," she replied before she pulled him close, stood on her tiptoes, and kissed him.
The thirteenth of July, 8:42 pm, held no magical significance. Every number involved was inordinately normal and held no import. It was all thoroughly boring, mundane, and lacking in power or luck.
But she and Harry didn't need power or luck. They created their own magic, and they'd had more than enough excitement.
The world, be it magical or mundane, had been terrifying for entirely too long. But on the thirteenth of July, at precisely 8:42 pm, it became infinitely less terrifying.
A/N: Thanks, as always, to Nauze. You are a tremendous beta and friend and I'm sorry I didn't use your suggestion for Hermione's parents to relocate to Eucla, Australia. I know you have close personal ties to the place, but the population simply isn't large enough to support a two person dental practice in the lifestyle that the Wilkins are accustomed to.