Chapter Fifteen: Married Life

And so, Mr. Harry Potter and Ms. Margaret Hansen were married. For months, they've kept on their charade of their original agreement in front of the entire wizarding community. Hermione would organize and accompany Harry to all social events. To make it look more convincing moved into the estate and occupied Harry's adjoining bedroom. Only Dolby knew of their arrangement.

Her "air of acquired efficiency" impressed everyone in their social circle. No one knew the wiser. Many were intrigued and gossiped about the loving couple.

"Isn't that Mrs. Harry Potter who gives those political dinners?" a lady asked her friend as she spotted them on the opposite balcony of the theatre.

"They say he'll be in the British Seat of the International Confederation of Wizards next year," her friend informed her.

"Pity there's no children," she remarked, "Such a wonderful couple. I hear he's devoted to her."

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Next May arrived, and in honor of the Minister of Magic of his re-election, Harry and Hermione decided to host a party at their estate in Godric's Hollow. With her exceptional social and organization skills, the party became a huge success.

"Well it's really amazing! She's gotten him to dance," a guest commented as they watched Hermione glide Cornelius Fudge across the dance floor.

"She's gotten him to smile too!" another guest observed, "That woman's a marvel!"

After all the guests had left, Harry and Hermione, exhausted, retreated back to their rooms. Dolby opened the door for them.

"Good night Dolby, and thank you." Hermione said, walking into the room, "You've managed everything beautifully."

"Thank you," Dolby replied.

Harry followed her into the room, "Yes, thank you very much, Dolby."

"Good night," said the elf and took his leave.

"Well, you certainly mellowed the old gentleman," Harry said happily, "He was positively purring when I put him to his car."

"Yes," Hermione agreed, turning on a lamp, "I think he really enjoyed himself."

"I know I did," he added.

"Oh nonsense," she laughed, looking at the clock, "Oh good heavens! Its already three o'clock and you have two committees tomorrow."

"Today," Harry corrected her with a yawn.

"Yes, that's true. It's nearly morning," she said.

"Morning of May the 25th," he informed her, "Does that suggest something to you?

"It's the anniversary of our wedding," she quickly answered.

Harry nodded, "Will you wait just a moment? You don't look the least bit tired." He walked into his bedroom and returned, holding a small jewelry box. "All my gratitude goes into this Margaret," he handed it to her; "I owe you more than I could put into words."

Hermione opened the box and gasped. In it, was a large emerald necklace surrounded by little precious stones. "Oh it's too beautiful! Really, you spoil me," she examined it on her hand.

"The emerald is said to have belong to the Empress Marie Louis." Harry told her.

"Really? Why it's thrilling!" Hermione forced a smile and handed it to him, "Will you put it in on for me?"

Harry obliged and clasped the necklace gently behind her neck. She examined herself in the mirror before turning to him, "There. How do you like it?"

He studied her a moment, "You know, you're a very beautiful woman."

"Thank you," she replied, "I rather hoped you thought that."

Harry sensed her uneasiness, "Margaret, are you happy?"

"Why do you ask?"

"Seeds of conscience," he muttered, "If I hadn't interfered with your life- "

"I should have never been Mrs. Harry Potter," Hermione interrupted, "Entertained the Minister of Magic. Worn a queen's emerald." She looked off.

"Is it enough?" Harry asked.

"Perhaps not," she admitted softly, avoiding his gaze.

"Is there someone else?"

"No," Hermione shook her head, finally looking him in the eye, "Harry, why are you asking me?"

"Because if there were," he said nervously, "I often wanted to say this, I wouldn't hold you to our bargain. I haven't the right."

"Trying to get rid of me Harry?" she asked, with a tone higher than usual, desperately trying to make her voice sound playful.

"You know I'd be utterly lost without you," he assured her.

"I'm glad to hear that because I like my job," she chuckled uneasily, "A woman told me tonight that she envied me more than anyone she knew." She turned away, "She envied my husband. Most women do."

Suppressing her tears, she said, "Now I really am tired." She grabbed her purse and swiftly moved past him towards the door of her room, "Good night Harry, and thank you for the wonderful present."

"Good night, Margaret," Harry called out with a worrying expression.

As soon as the door was closed, Hermione started to cry. She went over by the dresser and sat down. She took out her jewelry box and grabbed the top tray to replace the earrings she wore for the night. As she placed them on the tray, Hermione gazed down at the jewelry box which stored the tacky beads Harry had given her that night he went to Liverpool. She picked them up and held them to her chest, "Smithy!" she cried.

Suddenly, there was a knock. Startled, Hermione stood up, wiping her tears away. Harry, face full of concern, opened the door, "Margaret, I'm afraid I said something to hurt you."

"No, Harry," she frowned, sitting back down.

He went over to her side, "If I expressed myself clumsily-"

"It's nothing really," she interjected, "Its just nerves."

Harry stared at her unconvinced, "I wish you'd be frank with me."

Hermione looked at the beads in her hands, "Do you?" she whispered.

He sat down next to her. He noticed the necklace wrapped around her hand, "Were those a gift?"

"Yes," she replied, still staring at the necklace, "I came across them quite by chance. They're just cheap little beads."

"But they have a value for you that this does not?" Harry eyed the emerald around her neck.

"He said they were the color of my eyes," Hermione sniffed, holding the necklace next her head; "They are, aren't they?"

"Oh Margaret, isn't there something morbid in burying one's heart with the dead?"

"That's a strange thing for you to say," she replied.

"Really?"

"You haven't even a memory."

"No," he said, turning away.

"But the best of you," she continued, "Your capacity for loving, joy in living is buried in the little space of time you forgot."

"It isn't quite the same thing," he retorted.

"Why not?"

"Because, in some vague way, I still have-"

"Hope?" Hermione finished for him.

"Yes, I suppose that's it," Harry sighed.

"Have you Harry? You feel though, there really is someone?" she asked. "Someday you may find her?"

"I rather not talk of it Margaret," he replied, shaking his head, "It's nothing I can put into words."

"But doesn't it frighten you sometimes?" she continued, "That the years are passing? That you may sometimes find that you've lost your capacity for happiness?" Hermione stared at him intensely, "You may have come so near her. Maybe brushed by her in the street."

"Yes, I thought of that," he replied, avoiding her gaze.

"You might have even met her Harry, and not known her," she eluded, "It might be someone you know. Harry, it might even be me." She waited for his reaction.

"Oh Margaret," he chuckled awkwardly.

Hermione stood up and walked over to her dressing table, "Oh now, I'm talking wildly," her voice trembling, "It's after 3 o clock and I'm tired."

"Yes," Harry took his cue and got up. Putting her earrings back, she went over by her bed, her back facing him, "Harry, I sometimes thought I'd like to travel. I feel like I need a change and some rest."

"To travel?" he repeated.

"Yes, I've never been out of England," she told him, "I like to go to Buenos Aires, or Rio, or somewhere colorful and attractive."

"Perhaps when the committees adjourn-" Harry started to say.

"Oh I don't want to drag you away," she added quickly, "Ill take a house elf, or a friend perhaps."

Harry moved over by her and touched her shoulder, "Margaret, I believe you want to get away from me."

"Oh no." Hermione explained, "Just that, it's a bit strained. I'm just a nobody you know. Been harder than I thought, being the wife of Harry Potter."

"If you wish, of course," he said, "You are a little overtired I think. Shall we talk about it in the morning?"

"In the morning, yes" she agreed.

"Good night Margaret."

"Good night Harry."

As soon as the door closed, Hermione broke down crying.

Stay tuned for the conclusion of Random Harvest!