July 2003
Laying in bed, tangled up in one another as they dozed with their limbs intertwined, Harry thought back to the slip of paper Hermione handed him outside.
Cariad Lane.
His brow furrowed as he tried to place the word but ultimately fell up short.
"Mia?" he spoke quietly, not wanting to shatter their peaceful moment.
"Hmm?" she mumbled against his chest and he grinned at the sleepiness in her voice.
"How did you come up with the name of the cottage, Cariad Lane?"
Hermione froze, her soft body going rigid against him.
Frowning, Harry pulled away to look at her. "What's wrong?"
The tips of her ears pinked as he waited for her to reply. Tilting his head curiously, he watched as she fidgeted in place. He'd been in love with Hermione Granger for long enough to know that if he wanted to know the truth, he couldn't push her.
"You'll think me silly," she finally responded hesitantly.
Harry tugged her closer, wrapping his arms around her tightly. She was so small, barely reaching the underneath of his chin where she lay on his chest. Burrowing his nose in her hair, he breathed in the familiar scent of lavender and mint. It soothed him, like a balm to his soul. There hadn't been any question in his mind of what he would smell in Slughorn's start of term Amortentia lesson. When Harry had approached the cauldron, he knew exactly what to expect.
Broom polish.
Lavender and mint.
The backyard of the Burrow.
"You don't have to tell me," he whispered into her hair, his hand finding a loose curl to play with mindlessly. "But I won't think you're silly. I'm rather fond of you, yeah?"
Hermione smushed her face against him, making an adorable noise of frustration.
"One night at the Burrow, I heard Remus calling Tonks cariad," she mumbled, and Harry stilled at the mention of the last Marauder. "It was over the sixth year Christmas hols. I snuck downstairs for a cuppa when I couldn't sleep and they were—" she sniffled harshly, "listening to an old record that Mr Weasley owned. The audio was scratchy and warped but they didn't seem to notice as they danced around the kitchen. It was like a scene from a movie. The war was brewing and things were so tense, but in that moment, they were nothing more than two people in love. Not soldiers at war; not werewolf and metamorphmagus. Just a man and a woman who'd found each other in the most unfavourable of circumstances."
Pausing, she took a deep breath before continuing.
"They didn't know I was standing there. I watched as Remus leaned down and placed a lingering kiss on the crown of Tonks' forehead, her hair flashing through a spectrum of colours in response. It landed on that bubblegum pink she favoured so much and the look he gave her was full of such blatant adoration even I could see it across the kitchen, as he whispered 'My cariad'. I knew Remus was Welsh and since I didn't recognize the word at the time, I just assumed it was a nickname. I snuck back out of the kitchen before either of them noticed me, but something about the moment just stuck with me. I looked up the word later — it means love; to refer to someone as your love, or to be in or fall in love."
Harry's throat grew tight with emotion as he pictured Teddy's parents — the man he should've known as Uncle Moony, and his mate — in such a mundane moment of domestic bliss. Only rarely now did he mourn for the lost vestiges of a childhood he once had. For the family he should have known, for the dreams they undoubtedly had for him. Now he had the singularly excruciating experience of mourning the lives Teddy would've gotten to live, as he watched the boy grow in a hauntingly similar parallel of his own circumstances.
"We should put that moment in a Pensieve." His voice was hoarse, as though he'd screamed himself raw. "For Teddy."
Hermione smiled sadly, reaching up to cup his cheek. "It can be for you, too. Remus can be important to both of you."
He could only nod, her gentle touch sending him beneath the waves as he suffocated on the visceral emotions he was trying so desperately to keep at bay.
"It made me think of you," she continued in the silence. "Of the kind of love you deserved to know growing up. The fact that you should have memories of your parents like that, dancing together in the kitchen, hopelessly in love." Her words were tinged with bitterness and Harry couldn't help but wonder if she was thinking of her own parents, lost to her in Australia.
"When you told me about the camping trip the Marauders went on, it made me think of that moment too. A bit of happiness, of peace found within this tumultuous life. I wanted more than just a single moment, I wanted a lifetime. I wanted to find that peace for myself. I wanted to be loved like that."
She blushed. "Just two people in love, nothing more."
Harry smiled a shaky, watery sort of expression. Pressing his forehead against hers, he muttered, "I love you. Endlessly."
With a wet laugh, she met his eyes, "I love you too, silly man."
Harry continued, trying to find the words to explain the depth of his emotions, "I've wanted to tell you that I loved you for ten years and I'm proper sick of having to keep it to myself. I love you, Hermione Jean. I want a life with you. I want to raise Teddy with you. I want to build a family with you. I want to have babies with you."
"Babies?" Her voice was teasing. "You don't think the one five-year-old will be enough?"
Glancing around the cabin, Harry pretended to think for a moment before shaking his head. "No, I think we'll need a few more at least."
It was Hermione's turn to spare him a watery grin.
"We'll need to expand the cottage, you know," he mused.
She blinked at him, startled. "The cottage?"
Pretending to think, he nodded slowly. "Well, you went to all this trouble. It's secret-kept and everything—" Harry paused. "Who is our secret keeper, by the way?"
Giggling, she pushed against his shoulder. "Our secret keeper, Mister Potter?"
Harry's expression was wolfish as he stared down at her hungrily.
"Ours."
Hermione shivered as his breath ghosted across her face, instinctively leaning closer. Before their lips met, she stilled and glanced up at him from beneath dark lashes.
"Minerva," she whispered.
"What?" Harry jerked back.
Between giggles, Hermione explained, "Minerva is our secret keeper."
Harry melted back into her embrace before poking her in the ribs where he knew she was ticklish. With a yelp, she thrashed in his arms and Harry tilted his head back in laughter.
"Cariad," he murmured fondly, the strange word unfamiliar but not unwelcome on his tongue.
Hermione stared at him, an emotion on her face he couldn't read.
Harry quirked a brow at her. "What?"
Thinking, she chewed on her bottom lip until he reached up to remove it from between her teeth, soothing his thumb across the bruised flesh.
"There was a season of my life where I didn't know if I'd ever hear your laugh again. Not a genuine, truly happy from the depths of your soul kind of laugh. Sometimes it still catches me by surprise. It's one of my favourite sounds, you know?" She sniffled lightly and his heart clenched at the vulnerability on her face.
Brushing his lips across her temple, Harry couldn't even find the words to console her. This beautiful woman, who had been by his side since they were eleven years old. Who stuck by him through everything, who decided he was worthy of being loved by her. There were no words significant enough, nothing that could possibly explain the love he felt for this witch.
His hand fell to her chin, tilting her face up to his. Pressing a soft kiss to her lips, Harry felt something warm spark in his chest when she smiled against his mouth.
When they finally separated, he simply held her in his arms as they both drew comfort from the fact that the other was warm and alive and there.
That night, he tugged Hermione by the hand into the kitchen. Going over to the radio, he fiddled with it until a familiar tune rang out. Pulling her into his arms, Harry danced with the love of his life around their kitchen; pressing kisses to her forehead and whispering to her in the little bit of broken Welsh he knew.
Two people in love.
Nothing more.