CHAPTER ELEVEN.

It's week three of my stay in Kwale, Kenya and coincidentally the 3rd week of "The Plan" which was working so far. I will no longer insult anyone's intelligence by recapping what were all the details but suffice it to say that Dr. John just needed some competition to get him started. I've had great memories here. Pretending to be with Hermione is probably the closest I'll ever get to being with her. Some days I can just pretend that Dr. John does not exist. Most days he's hovering like a UFO over Roswell, New Mexico. But outside of the high school melodrama, I can imagine going back to Kwale. The place actually grows on you. I can see why aside from the obvious attraction, Hermione would be able to last this long where indoor plumbing consists of a hole inside of a mud hut with no roof. The orphans are precious and they've taken to calling me Father and Hermione is their Mother. I'm actually gloating on the inside because they call John just Dr. John. Small wins but as crazy as it may sound I live off of those crumbs of a future that Hermione and I could never have. I wish that we could have a family together. I think we'd make a good team – the orphans mind what Hermione says while I always try to make it fun for them. I remember being an orphan too and since there was no one around to teach me that life can sometimes not suck, I've decided that these kids should know from someone who used to be just like them that it's okay to hope, to be happy and to dream.

I like watching Hermione with the children. A few times she's caught me looking at her and I look away quickly but apparently not quickly enough. Sometimes, I think she's puzzled why and would like to ask but the opportunity has never presented itself. If she did ask, I'm not sure what I'd say. Probably the truth because she has always had a way of ferreting it out.

This particular afternoon, she was reading to the children and Mwanaidi, a rather curious and chubby 3-year old, climbed onto her lap to look at the pictures. It was a sight to behold and I get a painful spasm again in my chest which gets worse every time and more frequent. There were little white spots dancing around as I bring my hand to my chest and I will myself not to pass out. I wish I'd listen to Grawp and didn't shrug this off like it was some big joke. Well who's laughing now? Definitely not me. As the spasm settles into dull heaviness, I go over to sit beside Hermione. I take Mwanaidi from her and make him sit on my lap with a copy of Shel Silverstein's "The Missing Piece". Hermione has finished reading the book and turns to me.

"Harry, you look positively ghastly? Are you alright?" She reaches over to feel my forehead and looks quizzically into my eyes.

"I'm fine." I shake off her hand, "Just a little bit under the weather."

"Well, I hope you have not been drinking from the faucet because the water here is not potable. My first week I was so sick, I couldn't keep anything down because I drank from the tap. But John stayed up all night making broth so that I won't get dehydrated and it was awfully sweet of him. So be really careful. I mean what if you got sick here?"

I grumble under my breath. He makes broth and all of a sudden he's the pope. I wanted to shake Hermione because heck, I've been sweet. Who was it that came back for her when the troll got into Hogwarts? Who was it that defended her to Cho? Who was the one who shielded her from being accidentally gobbled up by a crazed Lupin during the full moon? Surely, it wasn't John. Meanwhile, she's forgotten all those times. I try to be cheeky but it comes off sounding bitter, "Then I'll make the amazing Dr. John make me some broth."

"Harry, you are a silly goose. I thought we were over this. You said that you'll give John a shot. Let's say I get married, what happens then? I would want two of my favorite people to at least stay in one room and not kill each other."

I'm quiet and Hermione takes my silence for remorse. We sit in companionable silence while I hold Mwanaidi who is looking at the picture books. I'm too tired to fight and pick an argument and so Hermione puts her head on my shoulder. It was a perfect moment and I wish I learned a few spells to freeze time and keep us like this forever. Bored, she tries to distract Mwanaidi by playing peek-a-boo over my arm. Mwanaidi chuckles and reaches out to pat Hermione's face lovingly and I got carried away by the moment. I hold the toddler's hand and kiss the top of Hermione's head. Just like that the moment was gone. She straightens up and turns her body to face me.

"Harry, have you been in love? I mean truly sincerely flat in your face been in love with someone."

I panic at this. How can I answer her without giving myself away. I was poised to say "no" but then my mouth acts on its own, often without the consent of my head and I say, "Yes."

"Who is she? Do I know her? Because I take it that it's not Ginny."

"Well it's not Ginny and yes you do know her. Quite well but I'd rather not say who."

"Why not?"

"Because I can never have her and there's just no use saying her name out loud."

"Oh dear – "

"No. Don't feel sorry for me. It just makes it worse."

Then we were quiet again. I could say it out right now. In fact, I probably would have except for the fact that it would be suicide doing so and the main thing was that with everything she's lost, the most that I deserve is the privilege of trying to make her happy and wiping away the nightmares I've caused which she experienced by knowing me without looking to get her in the end. This time Mwanaidi was bored and clambered off my lap. He toddles off towards the other kids.

My as eyes darken as I try to think of her future with someone and that someone is not me when she breaks me out of my dark reverie, "Harry, will you do anything for me?"

I let out a breath as I say it, "In a heartbeat." Doesn't she get it? I would do anything for her.

"Whatever happens, even if you drift away or that you move to another place, promise me that you'll come back and give me away during my wedding day."

Anything but that. I'd have to say no but if she asks like she's asking me now I just know that I wouldn't be able deny her anything. Hermione, you don't know what you are asking of me. She continues and her eyes glisten with tears, "I've always dreamt of that day. My Dad would be walking me down the altar but I guess that will never happen anymore."

An invisible hand has squeezed my heart and has no intention of letting go and the white spots are dancing before my eyes again. Everything was sounding so far away and in an effort towards self-preservation, I stammered out my response, "Look Hermione, I… wish… I… I just can't…" and she looks dejected and downcast, Please dear Lord, let the pain stop for just one instant and I let out a ragged breath which she has not even noticed. "Hermione, what I meant was that I just can't imagine not being the one to give you away to the guy you've chosen. Whether it's John, Viktor or some guy in the future you've never even met yet. It would be an honor to do anything that would mean your happiness."

Grateful, she leans and kisses me lightly. On the lips. I close my eyes so that she doesn't see the words that were left unsaid and it was at this moment that Dr. John chooses to make an entrance, "Err.. Hermione…I was hoping. I'd like to talk to you, if it's possible."

Her eyes are bright with hope and I drop my gaze because I can't exactly meet hers since this could be it. It's been a long time coming. Then she says the two words that could possibly put the nail in my coffin, "Of course" and stands to follow the man of her dreams. No longer able to feign indifference, I drop to my knees and pray to whoever's out there that however this whole drama ends for me, it ends quickly because I seriously cannot breathe.