At first, it was difficult to get them to admit that they liked each other. Like, really difficult. Relationships with their partners would always collapse for the same reason, and yet they never seemed to connect the dots.
"I wish you would come to me with your problems, Harry," they would all say.
It was always tough for Harry's partners. Ginny, in particular, had the unique perspective of seeing what the problem would be before it had even arisen in their relationship. She had hoped that getting with Harry would solve the issue, that he would let her in, but that was wishful thinking. It hurt to think back to the end of her relationship with Harry. Words she didn't mean were thrown and accusations that she knew weren't true were hurled. The irreparable damage she caused to her friendship with Hermione still stung to this day.
Unlike Ginny, most other partners were blind to the problem that would ensure the death of their romance with Harry until it was too late. Unlike Ginny, they thought their words and accusations were true, or would become true if they didn't put a stop to Harry's behaviour. They were right on that last point, eventually. Though no one could put a stop to Harry's behaviour.
Apart from her.
Hermione knew the fundamental issue that plagued each and every one of Harry's relationships. It was at its worst shortly after the war, with Ginny. Harry had nightmares he wouldn't talk to her about. He had fears and worries he wouldn't talk to her about. He had bouts of such painfully loud silences she would never understand.
Hermione knew all about Harry's nightmares, all about his fears and worries; she understood what he was saying in his silences, sharing those same feelings herself. The words Ginny threw at her and accusations she hurled at her would sting for years to come. The truth - which took a while to accept - was painful to hear, sometimes.
Harry's later partners eyed Hermione cautiously. The assurances Harry provided them worked better on them than they did on Ginny, initially. None of them had watched him grow up with his best-friend, Hermione was simply 'like a sister' to him, he would say. At first they believed it, but by the end they knew Harry was deluding himself.
Hermione had it in her power to stop Harry from coming to her. She could've told him to trust his partners, to actually talk to them, to show them that they were the most important people in his life.
She didn't. She couldn't. She wouldn't. It was entirely selfish and Hermione wasn't proud of her failure to intervene, but if Harry needed her, she could never say no, nor would she ever entertain the thought. If Harry needed Hermione, Hermione was what he got. That's just how it was.
"I wish you would prioritise me, Hermione," they would all say.
It was always tough for Hermione's partners. Listening to her talk about him too much to be comfortable with was annoying. Watching her hold him in a hug longer than the ones they got was irritating. Seeing her face light up when he entered a room was worrying. Hearing her spend hours on the Floo talking to him before bed was often the final straw.
"Harry's calling, I'll be a few minutes," were the dreaded words, an indication that they might as well get an early night's sleep. Hermione would be too tired for anything but sleeping after her chat with him. The smile on her resting face whenever she had talked with Harry hurt.
Viktor was both the luckiest and unluckiest of the bunch. He thought he had found the one all those years ago in that library; the girl with ink-stained fingers and copious amounts of books surrounding her was his favourite memory. A few years after the war, he and Hermione lived and loved for a further three in Bulgaria as she worked there as an ambassador. That meant Harry Potter wasn't a consistent threat to him, a privilege Hermione's past and future partners would never have.
But that only meant those moments where he was a threat, he was a threat.
Hermione would talk about him with increasing fondness as they spent further and further time apart from each other (an experience not unfamiliar to Viktor, thinking back to his short time with Hermione during the Tournament). The rare times they would see each other, the hugs would be tighter and longer than Viktor could ever hope to receive from Hermione himself. The glee on both their faces when she saw him in person for the first time in two years would haunt him until the end of their relationship. When Harry gifted her a long-range communication mirror - a moment Viktor would later realise was the beginning of the end for him and Hermione - Viktor struggled to resist stealing and breaking it as Hermione spent more and more nights choosing to talk with Harry over spending time in a bed with Viktor.
He proposed to Hermione as a last ditch effort to save the relationship.
It ended it.
Harry partly knew the fundamental issue that plagued each and every one of Hermione's relationships. Hermione cared for him and loved him, that was obvious to him. It should've been obvious to him that she cared for him and loved him beyond anything else, as he did for her - even if he would only realise the true extent of that love that both of them had for each other much later.
He could tell from the daggered glares and cold conversations that Hermione's partners didn't like him. Not one bit. One of Hermione's burlier boyfriends had even pushed him against a wall once, interrogating him about his relationship with her. He had never seen Hermione so angry when she found out.
Harry had it in his power to take a step back and let Hermione spend time with her partners without his intrusions. He could've been less needy, less desperate to hear her voice and feel her comfort after rough nights and breakups.
But Harry was selfish when it came to Hermione. Hermione could always help him, always be relied upon where no else could even come close. He would always be there for her when she needed him - a trait he developed far too late for his own liking. The idea of being apart from Hermione was often too much. Those two years without seeing her were the worst of his adult life, and a catalyst to his now abundant appreciation for her. She had never been away from him before those two years, he never had to feel the ache that her absence caused before those two years. When she returned to Britain, they were closer than ever.
Harry and Hermione were a package deal, and one day, when they were finally both single at the same time, they realised that maybe they should try being packaged together.
It was a rather brilliant idea.
It was also a rather late idea.
But there was no use crying over spilled milk, as the saying goes. The idea sparked one night in Hermione's office at the Ministry. She was nearing the end of her time as the youngest Minister for Magic ever (both the youngest to get the role and youngest to retire), and Harry was celebrating his thirty-eighth birthday. A quiet dinner between the two was really all they wanted for their joint celebration.
"How about Seamus' restaurant in Upper Flagley?" Harry had asked, "We can skip the waiting list."
Hermione happily agreed and shortly after, the pair were sitting down at their friend's flourishing restaurant.
They both ordered the same dishes - as they often did - and enjoyed conversation about the latest books Harry had read (from Hermione's recommendations), the latest developments in the relationship between the muggle and magical governments that Hermione spearheaded, and how damn delicious the food was.
Later, in Hermione's apartment snuggled together on the sofa with a half empty bottle of wine, Harry had an inexplicable thought of kissing Hermione. It didn't sound strange, it sounded like a completely natural thing to do.
"Hermione…" Harry whispered and, as she turned her head to face him, he, without hesitation, leaned in to kiss her.
Hermione didn't seem surprised by the action, in fact she was more aggressive in the kissing than Harry was. It was gentle, but powerful. It was calm, but a release of wave after wave of decades of tension. It was right. It was love.
It was the inevitability of Harry and Hermione.
The years that followed were the best of their lives. Of anyone's lives, if you asked them.
Harry proposed a year after their first kiss. Hermione cried an enthusiastic yes and, later that evening, an enthusiastic yes.
Sophia and Eliza were born nine months after Harry's proposal, only a few weeks after the wedding of Harry and Hermione Potter-Granger.
Hermione thought Harry was the greatest father anyone could ask for. He had his doubts when they discussed children at the start of their relationship, but seeing him snoring on the sofa with their two little girls snuggled either side of him proved all his doubts and insecurities wrong.
Harry thought Hermione was the greatest mother anyone could ask for. She took fewer hours in her role at the Department of Mysteries to spend time with them and her househusband. She would and did do absolutely anything for them. They deserved the world in her eyes, and Harry could only agree. The sight of their captivated, beaming faces as Hermione read them their bedtime stories often brought a tear to his eye.
But it wasn't all sunshine and roses. Hermione's grief at the tragic death of her parents lasted the better part of a year. It was tough and exhausting for Harry to take up the mantle of single-father for their daughters as Hermione locked herself away in their bedroom most days. He did it for them. For Hermione, Eliza, and Sophia. He'd do anything for them.
When the twins headed off for Hogwarts, the silence in the house without them was often suffocating. It took time for Harry and Hermione to get back into the swing of being together alone, but when they did, it was like the start of their relationship all over again.
Sometimes they wondered how things would've been had they gotten together earlier. Sometimes they wondered how things would've been had they not been so selfish about each other.
They didn't dwell on it too much, however. They have each other now, and that's all that matters in the end.