Present Day
Hermione's POV
Hermione flipped the letter between her fingers anxiously, barely aware of the stinging paper cut she had given herself.
A horse and a stag were intertwined on the front of the card, and it was stamped closed with a swirled red and green seal. Simple, but elegant.
Despite herself, she smiled faintly.
Taking a deep breath, Hermione flicked the letter open and it zoomed happily out of hands and unfolded in the air in front of her. With a small flourish, a recognizable pair of voices sprouted from the card.
"You have been invited to the celebration of marriage between Ginevra Molly Weasley and Harry James Potter on the 5th of August this year. The ceremony will be held at the house of Arthur and Molly Weasley, at the Burrow in Ottery St. Catchpole. Send a reply to 12 Grimmauld Place in London– we hope to see you there!"
The letter folded itself into a tiny broomstick and flew around Hermione's head, landing back in the square center of her palm. She took a deep breath her mind whirling. She had expected it, yes, everyone had, but it seemed so soon. Had it really been 3 years since she had seen Harry?
Just thinking of his name made her stomach clench as she flashed back to that fateful night three years ago.
Without looking at it again, she threw the invitation in the rubbish bin.
Harry's POV
Harry sat on the edge of the bed as the sun rose through the window. His hands were clasped under his chin, his face a frozen picture of concentration. He was topless, his tanned upper body impeccably straight from years of Auror training. His green eyes sparkled in the early morning light, and his hair, was, as always, disheveled.
A soft hand snaked up his back, gripping his shoulder. Ginny pulled herself up and rested her head on his shoulder.
"Come back to bed, Harry," she said softly into his ear. He shook his head slowly and she sighed. "You have work tomorrow, babe. So do I."
"I'll come back in a minute, Gin," he said, turning his head and pecking her cheek. "Promise."
"Maybe it didn't get to her," his fiance was now fully awake, covering herself with a lush blue bathrobe. "It has been–"
"Three years," Harry finished, his voice dull. "Three years, 302 days, approximately 4 hours."
Ginny nodded slowly. "I know, I know. I miss her."
"Me too," Harry said, surprised at the apparent vulnerability in his voice. "I just thought she might come... or write back..."
"We all did," Ginny reminded him gently. "But if Hermione doesn't want to be found, then she won't be." She piled her red hair on top of her head in a bun and sighed, before making her way downstairs for morning tea. In just a few hours, she would leave for Quidditch practice, and he would go in the opposite direction to the Ministry of Magic. They would kiss on the cheek as they did every morning, and head off to their busy days. When they came home, they would sit in the parlor together and talk about their days– she would complain about rival chaser Kit Salzman, and he would groan about the Ministry's newest privacy policies. Together, they would make dinner and tell jokes and laugh until their sides hurt. That night, they would snog and shag and they would fall asleep in each other's arms.
It was a happy life that Harry and Ginny had, and he had grown attached the familiar routine that accompanied it. After years of unexpected turmoil and pain, there was a comfort in order. But as the big day edged closer, Harry could not help but feel his life, though picture perfect, was incomplete. He fell backwards on his bed, the covers flopping around him.
Hermione had disappeared three years ago, right after Harry's 18th birthday. He and Ron had looked everywhere, but no one knew where she had gone. Owls came back with no response, or, more often, without ever reaching her. It became clear, after just a few months, that Hermione did not want to be found. Either that, or she was dead.
Harry felt a horrible pain in his chest when he thought about her, what she might be doing– why she had left.
It seemed ridiculous, after all this time, but neither Ginny nor Harry could imagine their wedding without her. It felt... empty. They had sent her four invitations, three by owl and one my muggle post (just in case), and even though they had been received by someone, there had been no reply.
Harry was beginning to feel as though he would never see his best friend again.