A/N: Hey everyone! Whoohoo, finals are over for me and school's out for the summer! I probably bombed on my math exam (I resorted to inka-bink-a-bottle-of-ink to pick some of the answers because innie-Minnie-minie-moe didn't satisfy me!) but hey, I think I did alright! LOL, I'm sorry I kept you waiting so long for this chapter and without further ado.. Let me present to you the next chapter of In This Life I Was Loved By You, entitled Where Do I Fit In The Picture!

CHAPTER NINETEEN: WHERE DO I FIT IN THE PICTURE?

Harry Potter had lost his tennis shoes. He was running around the house he shared with his children, looking behind every cabinet, in every drawer, and under every bed for them. Hermione, who had spent the night at his house to start making up for the time she had lost with their children, was hustling around the house herself, cleaning up parts of the mini party the four of them had the night before and trying to get her children up and ready. There was a carnival coming to Hogsmeade that day. Harry had heard nothing more than "Daddy, can we go?" since Charlie and CeCe had heard it was coming. Now the day had come and they were still dragging their feet.

"Hermione!" Harry bellowed from his bedroom. "Have you seen my tennis shoes?"

Hermione could see Harry from where she was standing. She could also see the brown fleabag behind him. She didn't have to yell, but she hollered back, "Turn around, Harry!"

Harry twirled on his heel to look at her. She was standing there smirking. At his puzzled look, she pointed down next to his feet. There sat the family dog, Scooby, with a blue and white sneaker protruding from his mouth.

"Scooby! I told you to stop this kind of thing!" He ripped the shoe from the dog to inspect it. The sole was soaked with dog slobber. He stuck his finger to it to see if it was wet enough to release liquid. Discovering it was not, he shrugged his shoulders and slipped it on over his sock. Hermione just watched, laughing.

"Alright Scooby Doo, where's the other one?" He eyed the mutt. Scooby pulled back his upper lip and bared his teeth in what the dog was famous for as a smile before he trotted off to he laundry room and his bed. He emerged a moment later with Harry's other shoe.

"Thank You." Harry said, reaching out to take the sneaker. He performed the same slobber test on the shoe and slipped it on. He grabbed a belt off the footboard of the four poster bed that took up most of the space in his room. As he slipped the belt around his trim waist, he remembered everything that had happened on that bed. When they graduated Hogwarts, Harry and Hermione had asked for the bed. It was a part of their history. It wasn't huge, but it was the bed they first made love in, the bed Harry had shed his only tears for Sirius on, and after Dumbledore agreed to let then have the bed, the bed that both of their children had been conceived on. They had always dreamed of having four children, and at that very moment, Harry was imagining children three and four being created right where their brother and sister were. But in the back of his mind, Harry knew that children three and four might only ever exist in his imagination. The way he was with Hermione was a memory, and the way she wanted things to be in the future was the only truth. He knew. But that didn't stop him from wishing, yearning, praying she would come around to him, let him hold her in the nights, let him be the man to be the father of any children she'd want. Truth was, he missed her. He died a little more inside every time in the past day he'd seen her anywhere near the bed he still considered theirs. She was killing him. There was a phrase that said something along the lines of being 'killed softly'. He couldn't say that's what she was doing. He'd fallen so much in love with her that there was no way he could even stand to be around her without feeling the pain of wanting her. And yet, he was setting himself up for the pain. He'd asked her to accompany him in escorting their children to the carnival, and as he walked out of his bedroom next to her, their children appeared at the end of the hallway in front of them, finally showing their excitement to go have some fun.

"Mom, Dad, could you two move any slower? At the pace you're going, we might make it to the carnival next year! Let's go!" Charlie whined, surging forward to grab each of their hands. The boy walked with a spring in his step, showing off what a natural athlete he was, a lot like his father. Everything about his outward appearance showed he was his father's child, but once you sat down with him, he was as introspective and brilliant as his mother. He could look at people, watch them for a few minutes, and be able to tell you intimate details of their personalities. He could handle work as well as his mother had, as well. But on the Quidditch field, just as his father and grandfather had been, the boy was truly a sight to behold. He was a Seeker on a local children's league, one worthy of being compared to his father. Harry could see the kid's talent, and knew one of these days, possibly when Charlie started at Hogwarts and maybe made the House team, people would start to realize what he knew already: Harry Potter's son was better at Quidditch than he was. Cecilia looked like her mother, but had her father's personality. She had his spitfire wit, his unwavering loyalty, his wry but realistic outlook on life. And yet, she knew what was important in life and could be the most affectionate person one had ever come across. In that aspect, she was her mother through and through. At the moment, she was skipping right passed pulling on her parents and had gone straight to seizing her brother's hand and hauling him along with their mother and father up the hallway.

Harry and Hermione had to run after their children when they reached the carnival gates. The kids were ecstatic as they ran up to the ticket booth. Hermione, in the midst of jogging after them, was marveling. She'd been to many Muggle carnivals, but the magical carnival was so much more entertaining. Stopping when they saw their children were standing in line at the ticket booth, Harry and Hermione stood side by side as Hermione took in her surroundings. Harry laughed as her eyes grew wide. The first thing Hermione saw was the Unicorn Carousel. There were stunningly realistic white unicorns spinning at the perfect speed. A sign posted next to the ride boasted real vintage Firebolts could be ridden instead of the plastic unicorns. Hermione smiled at the memory of the first time she'd ever encountered a Firebolt, and how angry Harry had been when she'd gotten it confiscated after only a few hours of him owning it. But she'd never been afraid of making him furious. There were times she had to, and that was one of them.

"Are we really that old?" Harry said from beside her. "We were thirteen when the Firebolt was made, and now its vintage. How sad is that?" He chuckled.

Hermione was still too amazed to respond; Harry understood. He, too, was always thunderstruck by the carnival. The Unicorn Carousel was just the tip of the iceberg. There was a ride that let people sit in a cart that was suspended and swinging above a fake dragon that blew real flames at the riders as they flew by. The flames were coming entirely to close for the comfort of some. There was one ride that was a humungous snake that slithered around a track, much like a Muggle roller coaster. There was a long line at the Bumper Broomsticks. The broomsticks were suspended above a pit of large pillows. People were falling off the brooms left and right.

Harry and Hermione had followed their children from one amusement ride to the next when Harry got bored. How he got Hermione to agree to ride some of the rides with him was beyond his best daydream, but she did, and she ended up enjoying herself more than she had in a while. They rode the Spider (a mechanical spider on its back on a twirling plate with carts on its feet) until they almost threw up. Charlie and CeCe were standing in line for the Horror House, which housed boggarts, pesky ghosts, and an assortment of the most terrifying creatures known to wizard kind, watching as their parents held each other up from sheer dizziness after their fifth time on the spider.

By the time the children returned from the Horror House, white faced and petrified, they were all ready to instead walk around the carnival, taking in the various vendors booths and oddities attractions. Charlie and CeCe begged to go see the mummified remains of a three-headed-puppy. After some convincing, Harry gave them a sickle each and sent them on their way.

"Dad, aren't you coming? I know you love looking at weird things."

"Baby, I'm an Auror. There's nothing a traveling carnival that is going to phase me. I'll just go over to that bench with your mother and wait for you, alright?" Harry pulled his baby girl into a hug and kissed the top of her head. "Go. We'll be right over there when you guys get done."

"Fine, Dad, I'll go." She walked ahead a few feet. "See me, Dad? I'm getting closer to the three-headed-dog without you! Are you totally sure you're not going to come?"

"I've had enough three headed dogs in my lifetime, really." Harry smiled. CeCe eyed him suspiciously. "Really, I have. Go." CeCe huffed and caught up with her brother in line. Harry beamed at his kids and returned to Hermione, who was seated on a bench behind him, her world still spinning, partly from the spider, but mostly from Harry. He flopped down next to her, grinning in a way that strangely reminded Hermione of his lovable mutt Scooby.

"So, what do you think our favorite three headed dog did before he died?" Harry questioned slyly.

"Puppies always come in litters." She countered.

"There can't possibly be more, can there?" He looked slightly worried.

"I guess that's up to you to find out, Mr. Hotshot Auror." Hermione smiled. "We outwitted one at eleven years old. They aren't really that dangerous."

"If you know how to handle them. How Hagrid ever wanted to keep one, I'll never know."

"It's Hagrid we're talking about. That's all that needs to be said." Hermione responded. After that, Harry and Hermione lapsed into silence. Harry would glance over at Hermione every now and then, only to find her staring determinedly ahead. He did this four times before he started to get irritated. Finally, he snapped.

"What's going on, Hermione?" He asked.

Hermione tried to play innocent as she turned to look at him. "Nothing. What do you mean?" Harry gave her one of his famous stare downs, enough to let her know that he wasn't buying the stupid act she was peddling. Hermione shook her head and put it in her hands on her knees. "I don't know, Harry. I just don't know."

"Then answer me this. Where do we go from here?" He challenged.

"Where do you want it to go?"

"You know where I want it to go. I want you home, with me and our children. I want to fall asleep next to you every night after a round of wild lovemaking, and then wake up to you every morning. I want to be able to call you in the middle of the day, just to hear your voice, because it revives me. I want you. Now the question is, what do you want, Hermione?"

"Time. I want all the time in the world to get used to be around you guys. I want a place of my own to stay in London, not far from you. I want us to be friendly enough that we can raise kids together, and time to figure out for myself where I want things to go with us, as a couple. I want time to figure out if I want to be with you or not. Is that too much to ask?"

Harry didn't know hw to answer. Hell yes, it was too much to ask, in terms of him and his feelings. But he knew he was pushing her. Restraint had never been his strong suit, especially when he wanted something so badly. He had never, in all his life, wanted something, somebody, so badly. You can't make a heart love somebody, meaning he couldn't make her love him, not until she was ready to love him again. He knew there was only one answer.

"Of course, it's not too much to ask." He murmured dejectedly, as his heart screamed the completely opposite words. "Asking me to just be friends with you is the equivalent of taking me out and shooting me execution style, but hey, I always have said I'd die for you. We'll take it slow then. You take all the time you need. As always, I'll wait. You are quite the test of my fucking patience, you know that?" He growled angrily at her.

"Harry, wait!" She said as he got up to walk away. He did, looking her square in the eye, waiting for her to say her piece. She approached him and stopped inches from him, keeping his gaze. She sighed. "I am sorry. I am so sorry that I'm hurting you. I don't want to. I care about you, more than I can make you believe at the moment, and I know it." She looked away.

"One of these days, you're gonna love me, just as much as I have always loved and continue to love you. You'll remember everything we had, and everything we could have had together. And then you'll discover that I can't keep going like this. I'm not Superman, as much as everyone thinks I am. This kind of thing is a pain I can't ignore, and it has to stop. Yeah, Hermione, we can be friends. But I can't do this anymore."

"I know. Harry, I'm sorry. I can't stand to see you in pain."

"Then make it stop."

"How am I supposed to do that?"

Once again, Harry had no answer. Quoting her, he said "I don't know, Hermione. I really don't know." And he left, gathering his kids from the attraction and taking them home.

Later….

Harry had taken the kids out for dinner after the carnival. He arrived home and sent the kids straight to bed. He took his coat off and went to hang it on the rack when he stopped short. Hermione's coat was on the rung he would normally hang his on. He dropped his coat on top of hers, fished his keys from the pocket, and walked into the kitchen, where he found her sitting on a barstool waiting for him.

"Hi." She said quietly. He stuck his hands in his back jean pockets, cocked one knee, and hung his head for a few seconds before looking at her. His face was flushed, like he'd spent most of the evening laughing. Even after everything that had happened between them at the carnival, Hermione could still feel the tug of lust at her belly. Harry Potter was one sexy man, but as much as she wanted to have all of him to herself just one more time, she knew he wouldn't go for it, and for that she was glad. It would be a mistake, one that would ruin any chance of reconciliation between the two of them. In spite of everything, there was a small part of her true heart, the part that had nothing to do with what her head was telling it, the part that showed how she honestly felt, that was holding on to the hope that one day, she would again be Mrs. Harry Potter. There was a glimmer of hope there. She wanted to be his wife. She had realized that while she was sitting in his kitchen waiting for him. She wanted to be with him, forever and for always, just like she'd promised him she would be so many years ago. And yet, for some reason, she wouldn't tell him so. All he'd know, for now at least, was that she wanted to be friends.

"I'm sorry I made you angry at the carnival."

"I'm sorry, too. I thought about it, and being friends with you is ten times better than not having you at all. There's a flat right down the road that's for sale. I've been in there a few times. It's nice, you should check it out." Harry told her.

Hermione's heart went out to her school sweetheart. She rose from the barstool and crossed the tiled floor to him. She wrapped him in a tight hug. For once, he let himself go and squeezed her back, not worried about pain, but enjoying her again, because this time, she'd been the one to come to him. She was his friend. "Thank you, Harry."

A/N: I had a request to introduce Hermione's mother into the story, and I thought it would be a good idea. So next chapter, I'll start to integrate her in, so please stay tuned to In This Life, and thank you so much for reading and reviewing! Love from Turice