Chapter Six: O Perfect Love

Their wedding took place at a small chapel on top of the hill. A plump looking woman, whom Harry was convinced, must've been completely tone deaf played and sang "O Perfect Love" on the organ. Every time she would squeak a high note, he could not help but flinch. As the vicar walked by him, he could tell that he was also having the same thoughts.

So here he was, ready to be married to the most wonderful woman in the world. It was a small ceremony especially since neither of them had any friends in the area. A few locals whom Harry and Hermione became friendly acquaintances came to celebrate their happy union.

Harry now stood waiting at the altar, sweating nervously. He shifted his tie for the umpteenth time today. His brain was restless. A million thoughts were going through his mind, better known as the pre-wedding jitters. "What if she doesn't show up? What does she see in me? I hope I can make her happy." He kept dwelling on it over and over. But all thoughts ceased as he looked up again and saw Hermione walking down the aisle being led by the doctor.

His jaw dropped. She was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen in his life. Her dress was simple white with flowers embroidered on the collar and complimented by transparent sleeves. She finally looked up and gazed at him. He could see she was trying to contain the excitement herself. At that moment, he knew there was nothing in this world that could tear them away from each other.

After the ceremony, the doctor, the vicar and a few locals gave the newlyweds a ride to their new cottage. "Goodbye! Goodbye!" they all called out as Harry closed the door of the carriage.

"I'm so happy for you!" the tone-deaf woman cried as she took out a handkerchief.

"God bless you both!" chimed the vicar.

"Thanks again. Thank you. Thanks for all your kindness," they newlyweds waved graciously.

"Just a minute!" the doctor called out, reaching behind his seat, he pulled out a bottle of champagne with a ribbon on it, "Here take this."

"Doctor, no!" Harry protested.

"That's all right" the doctor insisted, "Keep it for the christening!" They all laughed joyously.

"Thank you so much," he accepted the bottle gratefully. "Goodbye!"

The carriage drove off down the street, leaving the two of them in front of a small little cottage surrounded by a picket fence.

Harry unlatched the gate and escorted Hermione through. As he closed the gate behind him, the hinge made a high pitch squeak.

"I must oil that hinge," he said.

Making their way in, Harry had to push aside the overgrown branch of their tree for them to cross through, "I must cut that back," he made a note to himself.

"Oh no darling, its so pretty!" said Hermione.

When they finally reached the door, Harry pulled out his key from his pocket and raised it into the air. "Home!" he announced dramatically. He unlocked the door and pushed it wide open.

"Home!" Hermione repeated happily.

Harry picked her up gently. Hermione giggled as he kissed her and carried her across the threshold.

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Months later...

The milkman appeared at the Smiths cottage to make his usual delivery in the morning, whistling happily to himself. As he was about to reach to ring the doorbell, Harry opened the door and stopped him.

"Shhhhhhh!" he hushed, gesturing behind him. The milkman acknowledged this and stopped whistling.

"Oh, is it today sir?" he asked.

"I think so," Harry replied anxiously.

"Have you got the nurse in?" he inquired.

"Three days ago," he replied, shaking his head, "Pretty trying, this business."

"I know how you feel sir." the milkman sympathized, "Been through it me self.'

"Did your wife suffer much?" asked Harry.

"Nah! Nothing to speak of. But me!" he exclaimed, "Crickey! Got any pain around you?"

"No."

"Lucky" the milkman whispered, as if saying it louder would invoke the disease, "Oh, I had something cruel last second. What they called, 'Synthetic pain', that's the scientific name."

"Right," Harry nodded with amusement.

"Oh I said I'd never face it again," he rolled his eyes, "But here I am with four and more bad news on the way!" he added, "Well, good luck to you sir!"

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That very night, Hermione went into labor. The same doctor who had seen Mrs. Devanter came over to perform the delivery. Harry was waiting in the living room fretfully and impatiently as he filled up his pipe again. He paced back and forth and back and forth until finally sat himself down beside the window. He didn't even doze for one bit. It wasn't until daybreak when the doctor finally came out of the bedroom.

"Its alright Smith" the doctor informed him excitedly, "She's out of danger now. It's been a hard fight, but she's made it. And you have a son!"

Harry stood still, trying to comprehend and process everything he's said.

"Come on! Pull yourself together!" The doctor grabbed his shoulders and shook him, "She's alright. Nothing in the world to worry you now! It's a boy, that's what you wanted, isn't it? Eight pounds of him too." The doctor patted him on the back, "Don't you want to see her? After all her trouble?"

Harry gave him a weak nod before he made his way into the bedroom. His eyes were tearing as he heard his son's cries for the very first time.