Harry's POV

Hermione was there, sobbing in front of him, and Harry felt his resolve collapse. There was too much history there, too many memories, too much responsibility, for him to be able to ignore her. He kneeled beside her, gently wrapping his lengthy arms around her much smaller form.

"I'm sorry... I'm so sorry... oh, Merlin, what have I done..."

"It's okay," he heard himself saying. "Okay. It's okay. It's okay... it's okay."

And they sat there, Hermione against Harry, holding each other, for a long, long time.

There was a dry silence as they walked back to the house. An acute feeling that nothing had been solved, nothing had been fixed, and yet, things between them had changed. They were partners, now. Not friends or lovers, but partners. We have a job to do, Harry thought to himself rather grimly. Whatever life we may have had... Whatever choices we made... He glanced at his companion. It doesn't matter anymore. All that matters now is raising our daughter.

Harry wondered vaguely if Hermione felt the same way, but decided that, too, didn't matter.

When they reached the house, Rose waddled out to them, embracing Hermione in a way Harry was still not used to. He swallowed, his throat dry.

"I have... I have a few letters to write," He said, more to himself than to her. Hermione looked up at him and nodded slowly, her eyes still red but understanding.

Harry opened the door to the house and trudged up the stairs to a room her assumed to be the study. The late morning light filtered cheerily through the large bay window, contrasting his rather dark mood.

Pulling a piece of parchment and waiting quill from the oak table, Harry rubbed his tired eyes and dipped the feather into the ink bowl. Hovering it over the paper, he blinked several times and watched the black ink slip down the quill and blot onto the paper. He closed his green eyes and sighed.

Fluttering them open, Harry once again dipped his quill in ink and scratched it across the parchment with renewed strength.

Dear Ginny,

There's something I have to tell you.

Four hours later, when lunch had long come and gone and Harry's stomach was growling insistently, he still had yet to write another line. Hermione found him hunched over the desk, parchment crumpled around him as he discarded idea after idea.

"Harry," She began quietly, entering the room.

He lifted his head tiredly. "What do you want, Hermione?"

She seemed to shrug this off, and set a white platter of cheese, bread, olives, and a small mug of tea on the table next to him.

Harry found himself laugh hollowly. "So, what? Is this life now?" His fingers hovered over the food, a peace offering he didn't want to take. "You're my little housewife who cleans and cooks for your hardworking husband?"

Hermione brows furrowed deeply, and Harry immediately regretted what he had said. "Look," he began, but she cut him off, her eyes fiery and fierce.

"Forget it," she told him hotly. "I'm going out. Enjoy your food."

And, just like three years earlier, she was gone.

Hermione's POV

Hermione's phone buzzed in her pocket. Cara had texted her back.

B right there,

-Cara

Biting her lip, Hermione looked around the nearly empty cafe. It was 4 o'clock, the sun high and hot in the sky. She closed her eyes, hoping when she opened them, this whole mess might go away.

Of course it did not.

"Mia!"

It was Cara's unmistakable bubbly tone. It did not matter to Cara Barclay how loud she was, and it did not matter how many times Hermione had told her "Mia" was not a nickname she wanted.

"Hermione is far too long," Cara had explained after calling her Mia for the first time. "You don't mind, do you?"

At least she doesn't call me 'Mione... Like Harry and Ron used to...

Hermione shook her head vehemently and rose from her chair to greet her friend. After kissing her twice on each cheek (it was very French, and Cara adored the French), the two friends sat across from each other at the checkered table.

"So," Cara laid her manicured hands across the table, gently grasping Hermione's in her own. "What was so important tha' you jus' had to see me righ' away?"

Hermione withdrew her hands, not quite ready for the comforting touch. She took a deep breath. "It's about Rose..."

"Rose? Is she alrigh'? 's somethin' wrong?" The chair squeaked loudly as Cara pushed it back across the floor and stood. Her hands clenched into fists. "Wha's going on, Mia?"

"Shh!" Hermione stood to, pulling her companion back down. "She's fine, I promise." Cara's body relaxed instantly, and Hermione felt a surge of affection for her daughter's Godmother. "You didn't let me finish. It's Rose's father."

"Father?" Cara shook her head uncomprehendingly. "You mean that Ron guy?"

Hermione winced slightly. "Not exactly..." she frowned, trying to decide how to phrase all of what she needed to get off of her chest. "I always said it was Ron... my school sweetheart, you know, and that he didn't want her so... I left."

Cara nodded. She was vaguely familiar with this story.

"Well... I lied. It wasn't Ron. It was Harry."

Cara's blonde eyebrows furrowed. "Harry... You mean, Harry... tha' Harry?!"

Hermione swallowed and nodded very slowly.

"Merlin," Cara said. "Harry Potter is the dad of your kid? Isn' he gettin' married?"

"Yes."

"And you have 'is kid?"

"Yes."

"And he didn' wan' her?"

"Er... not exactly."

Cara raised one eyebrow. "I think I need the whole story, Mia."

Hermione nodded, and looked down. "It was Harry's 18th birthday. He and Ginny... you know, his fiance... they were in a rough patch, and I decided to take him out for a party... he wanted to go to a muggle bar. So we did... and we got really drunk..." She gulped. "And... and we... shagged."

"And then what?"

Hermione felt her stomach drop, and she closed her eyes briefly. "So after... I guess we sort of... tried to forget... and I came here to find my parents just a few weeks later. And I was here, for a few weeks... And then I found out I was pregnant and... I... didn't tell him."

Cara let out a tiny gasp, her eyes narrowing. "You didn't tell 'im he got you pregnant? For how long?"

Hermione looked away, her eyes watering. "Until yesterday, when he showed up at my doorstep."

Cara stood, the chair once again screeching across the linoleum. "YESTERDAY?" She bellowed, causing the owner of the cafe to stare at them oddly. She lowered her voice considerably, leaning across the table. "He's here?"

Hermione nodded, and continued to explain for the better part of the hour. How Harry showed up, his anger, their continuous arguing, and their tenuous, unspoken agreement.

Throughout the conversation, Hermione kept taking quick glances at Cara's face, but it was unreadable.

"Wow." She said when she finished. "Tha's... a lot to take in, Mia."

Hermione wiped a stray tear from her eyes. "I know what I did was wrong, Cara... but how could I end the rest of his life? I just hoped he would never find out... honestly, I don't even know why he's here!"

An odd expression floated across Cara's face, but it was quickly gone. Her face set in a grim line. "Alright. So what are you gonna do about it?"

"I don't know!" Hermione said, burying her head in her hands. "I'm so confused, Cara." She paused. "I think I still love him."

"Merlin, Mia!" Her companion shook her ruby curls. "You need to go back and care for your daughter. You need to forget about old Harry. This Harry is getting married. He needs to tell his fiancee and you need to work this out. Okay?"

"You make it sound so simple," Hermione scoffed, raising her eyebrows slightly. "But you're right. I have to try and fix this."