If only they could see
If only they had been here
They would understand
How someone could have chosen
To go the length I’ve gone…

Cayman Islands
Kings of Convenience




The Great Hall was packed with people.

Harry wandered amongst them, a ghost. He passed the injured, the dead and those who mourned them; he bowed his head, ashamed and afraid to see their faces. It was all too much to bear. But he had to find her.

She stood near Ginny, a blank expression on her face. Harry knew what she was feeling, for he felt it as well - the emptiness, the loss, the despair, and, most of all, the hopelessness. It would all be over soon.

“Come with me, Hermione,� said Harry. It didn’t matter that Ginny and Ron needed her; there would be a lifetime for mourning, hurt and comfort for them. Not for Harry, though. Wordlessly, she followed.

…………………………

They sat in silence, both timidly staring at the floor, eyes glazed over with weariness. It had been this way since Ron left.

Harry glanced at Hermione. Her beautiful face was wrought with fear and sadness. The journey had taken a heavy toll on them both, but Hermione was hit especially hard by Ron’s abandonment. Things seemed hopeless, Harry knew, but he couldn’t bear to see her this way. He never wanted her to be unhappy, especially over something he’d done.

A song came on the radio. Without thinking, Harry got up and walked over to Hermione. He extended his hand for a dance, a goofy grin on his face. Looking slightly amused, and wearing what may have been her first smile in days, Hermione accepted.

They danced. They tripped and stumbled and laughed until their cheeks hurt. Suddenly, there was no Voldemort, no Horcruxes, no pain and no death. It was just them, smiling and laughing and being two homesick teenagers. And it was beautiful.

The music slowed, and soon they stood completely still, locked in a close embrace. Harry needed to kiss her, to tell her how he felt and to reassure her that everything was going to be all right. He needed to be with her. But he couldn’t. Not with what he had to do. Not with what lurked outside the walls of that tent, waiting to attack.

They broke away. Hermione returned to her bunk.

“I need to be strong,� thought Harry. “For her.�

…………………………

The hallway was empty and silent, and they stood next to an ancient statue, hidden from view. Harry gazed into Hermione’s deep, brown eyes. She looked worried, confused and impossibly lovely. Throughout all these years, and in spite of all he’d faced, Hermione had given him the strength to live. Now, she would give him the strength to die.

But would he have the courage to face this last challenge?

“Harry…� questioned Hermione, but she was cut short.

Harry kissed her, and he experienced a magic beyond any he’d felt before. He glimpsed a new Letter, a new Hogwarts, new spells and new adventures. This was a new world Harry had never seen – a world of love. But he knew it could never be.

Harry broke the kiss and saw that the fear and sadness in Hermione’s eyes had been dulled, replaced with something new and different. Was it… could it have been…?

“Hermione,� Harry began, “it’s all been for you. All of it. All the trials I’ve faced, the ‘bravery’ I’ve shown…� Harry paused, collecting himself as his mind began to go numb. “Facing Quirrell, the Basilisk, the Dementors, winning the Triwizard Cup, dueling at the Ministry and Hogwarts, searching for the Horcruxes – I wanted to make you proud, to protect you, to keep you safe.�

Hermione’s eyes began to fill with tears. She turned away, burying her face in her sleeves, but Harry caught her cheek and looked into her eyes.

“On the Quidditch pitch, in that graveyard, on the rocks of that lonely sea-cave,� said Harry, now smiling warmly, “you were with me. You were always with me, no matter what. But… now I need to go it alone.�

Harry braced himself just in time to catch Hermione in his arms. She buried her face in his chest, clutching his robes, while sobs wracked her body. Harry held her tightly, resting his head against hers and whispering to her.

“Shh, ‘Mione… it’s all right.�

He didn’t know how long they held each other, but he could sense that the Time was fast approaching. With all the strength he had left, he forced himself to separate from her.

He held her by the waist as he prepared to complete the most difficult task of his life. He would gladly have faced ten Hungarian Horntails or spent 100 summers with the Dursley’s if it meant he didn’t have say goodbye to Hermione.

“It has to be this way,� breathed Harry, struggling to hold back the tears. “Voldemort is going to be defeated. We’re going to win this.�

Harry forced a smile. He wasn’t sure who he was trying to convince.

“You’ve been everything to me, Hermione. And, the truth is…�

Harry paused. This was the End.

“… I love you. I always have.�

The pain was growing unbearable, but Harry forced himself to continue.

“I wish I could have told you sooner. I wish things had turned out differently, and –“ Harry stopped himself. He had to commit to his destiny, to push away childish fantasies. “No. It’s best this way." Harry sighed, pushing a strand of hair out of Hermione’s face. “Be good, stay out of trouble – look after Ron for me, ok?� he said, laughing softly. “Maybe, someday, we’ll see each other again. Good… Goodbye, Hermione.�

Harry turned quickly; he couldn’t stand to look at Hermione any longer. The pain was like nothing he’d ever experienced – it felt as though his heart had been ripped in two. Harry would welcome death, now. He needed it.

Hermione caught him halfway to the entrance, pulling him into a kiss. Harry felt himself being lifted, felt the feeling come back to his body and the pain in his heart subside. Hermione kissed him deeply, passionately, pouring her soul into his, giving him her strength.

“I love you too, Harry,� she whispered, staring into the green depths of his eyes. “And I always will.�

Your love will be

Safe with me

re: Stacks

Bon Iver

Harry awoke suddenly.

For a moment, he wasn't sure if he had actually opened his eyes – the darkness that surrounded him was impenetrable and disorienting. He had trouble remembering where he was or how he had gotten there – he knew only a serene sense of peace, as one often does after being roused from a daydream. Harry felt as if he was waking up for the first time.

His body seemed very light, and he was curiously numb in places – the sensation was similar to being submerged in warm water – though he did perceive a slight pressure on his chest. As his eyes adjusted to the light, Harry surveyed his surroundings and was reminded of a small cupboard under a staircase, many lifetimes ago…

Maybe it was all a dream, Harry thought to himself, rather comforted by the idea. It had all felt very dreamlike, that was true. Half expecting to hear Mr. Dursley calling for his breakfast, Harry was startled when the weight on his chest stirred slightly. He caught the faint scent of strawberries, and it all came racing back to him…

...

The battle had been long and hard-fought. Harry felt drained – his strength was nearly depleted now. But he needed to fight on.

The Dark Lord faced him from across the hall, and while he towered over Harry, he was clearly weak as well. His breathing was heavy, and he swayed on unsteady legs, but his red eyes gleamed fiercely from beneath his skeletal visage. This was it.

"WHY DO YOU LIVE?!" screeched Voldemort, anger, fear and frustration strangling his harsh voice.

Harry, on the verge of giving up, allowed himself to consider this. Why did he push on? Why did he fight? Why did he continue, even when he knew he could not win? His outstretched arm, wand clutched tightly in his hand, began to sag…

And then he spotted Hermione's face. Images flooded his mind from all the eventful years past. Instantly, he was reminded of all he had fought for – all the hugs, the tender glances, the kind words. All the love. His strength returned, and multiplied, until he felt invincible. He knew why he lived. His gaze settled again on Tom Riddle.

"Because I have something worth living for."

A split second of silence tore the hall in two.

"Avada Kedavra!"

"Expelliarmus!"

Tom Riddle hit the floor with a mundane finality, his body feeble and shrunken, the white hands empty, the snakelike face vacant and unknowing. Voldemort was dead, killed by his own rebounding curse, and Harry stood with two wands in his hand, staring down at his enemy's shell.

Hermione was the first to reach him. Her arms enveloped him, her warmth overwhelmed him, and their lips crashed together in an eruption of joy. He kissed her with such passion and held her so tightly; he thought he might die from the sheer elation of it. Soon other arms were upon them, surrounding them in a sea of happiness and love. It was pure and perfect bliss.

Tears in his eyes, Harry surveyed Hermione's smiling face one last time before the vast wave of fatigue finally overcame him. He drifted off into unconsciousness, Hermione still in his arms, as a thousand supportive hands carried him away…

...

"Harry?"

It had been no dream. There, lying in his arms, was Hermione, just as lovely as ever. She looked up at him with a sleepy smile etched upon her face. He brushed back her bushy hair and sighed, utterly contented.

"You passed out," she whispered, afraid to break the silence of what Harry now realized was his old dorm room in Gryffindor Tower. "They all carried you up here so you could get some rest and, well," she blushed shyly, "I wanted to stay with you. Do you mind?"

Harry held her tightly against him, actually chuckling at the thought.

"Absolutely not," he said, grinning. "This is, without question, the single greatest morning I've ever experienced. Wait… it is morning, isn't it?"

Hermione nodded and murmured something like "yes" against his chest.

"Everyone should be in the Great Hall waiting for you," said Hermione, "when you're ready."

Harry honestly felt as though he could lie in his old four-poster bed with Hermione for the rest of eternity and have no complaints. Still, he wanted to see everyone, and there would be plenty of time to hold Hermione later. Wouldn't there?

"Hermione," began Harry with, with some trepidation in his voice, "what you said earlier. What I said earlier…"

Hermione put a finger to his lips. "Harry. You know I meant what I said."

"You mean…"

"I love you, Harry," she said, with the utmost confidence in her voice.

"I… I never thought… I mean, how long, Hermione? "

"Oh, Harry," sighed Hermione, as she often did when explaining something to him. "I've always cared for you – you know that – but, over the last few years, I've grown to see you as the man you've become. And I love that man, Harry. I love you. Didn't you know that?" she teased, tapping his nose with the tip of her finger and eliciting a laugh from Harry.

"Well… no. I didn't. I guess I never thought you would – of course I knew you cared for me, but… love? Wow." That was all Harry could really say. Love. The thought made his insides flutter.

"And what about you, Harry? Did you mean what you said?"

Harry didn't even pause to think. "Every word. I've ALWAYS loved you Hermione. I know it sounds crazy, but… I dunno. The moment I saw you, something just sort of clicked inside of me. It was something I'd never felt before, and it didn't take long to figure out. But I couldn't tell you. I needed you – I couldn't risk losing you. I was afraid I'd push you away, I guess. Yes, even I, the great Harry Potter, am capable of feeling fear." Hermione smiled at this. "And that – that fear – kept me going. I did everything I could to make sure I'd never lose you, that I could always have you with me. I really don't know what I would've done without you, 'Mione."

At this, Hermione reached up and kissed him, and he felt her tears against his face, though whether they were of joy or sadness, he couldn't say. "Nothing could ever tear us apart, Harry," she said, and it was with such certainty that Harry was forced to believe her. "Not before and certainly not now. You did it, Harry – you've passed the final test. There's no need to be afraid anymore."

And Harry wasn't. He knew now that, finally, he had nothing to fear. He would have a long life ahead of him, one filled with joy and possibility. But best of all, Hermione would be there to enjoy it with him – always.

"It's just too bad that it took the threat of death to make you tell me, Harry," said Hermione with a smile. "Am I really that frightening?"

"Well…" laughed Harry, "death is a powerful motivator…"

...

At last, Harry, still a bit unsteady on his feet, reached the stairway down to the Great Hall with his arm around Hermione. The golden light of morning bathed the castle in jubilant shades of red, yellow and orange. Harry had only a moment to enjoy the sight, as the hall was suddenly filled with the thunder of applause.

Hundreds of smiling faces shone up at him. Ron, Luna, Neville, Seamus, Dean. All the members of the DA. The entire Weasley clan. The faculty, all beaming with pride. The Order, with Tonks changing hair-styles every quarter-second. Centaurs, ghosts, house-elves, half-giants, even Peeves and Argus Filch; all hooting and cheering riotously. It was overwhelming.

The party went on for hours. A great feast, greater than any the Great Hall had ever seen, was laid out, and many toasts were given, enough to make the ever humble Master Potter go red in the cheeks. Hugs were received and pats on the back were handed out amply, mostly by Hagrid, which was always a pleasant experience for the recipient. Fireworks lit up the imitation sky with blinding frequency, courtesy of Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes and a clearly delighted Filius Flitwick. Firewhisky was enjoyed by all.

It was, without doubt, the greatest day of Harry Potter's life. It had an equally wonderful ending – as night fell, he found himself once again in his old four-poster, with a very tired Hermione curled up against his chest. Life was wonderful.

And it could only get better.

What is there to know?

This is what it is

You and me alone

Sheer simplicity

Know How

Kings of Convenience

Harry awoke just as the first curious rays of sunlight began to peer through his bedroom window. He blinked twice, taking stock of his blurry surroundings, then yawned and shut his eyes once more, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. Hermione slept peacefully in his arms.

Distant though it seemed, less than a week had passed sense the fall of the Dark Lord. Much had happened in those short few days, and much of it was good. There had been joyous celebrations; too many to count. There had been new developments that had changed the Wizarding World for the better. And, greatest of all, there had been moments like these - sweet, indescribably blissful moments alone for Harry James Potter and Hermione Jean Granger.

And, yet, there had been moments of great pain as well. Tears. Mourning. Funerals. Just how many people had given their lives in helping Harry's cause? How many friends, brothers, sisters and sons had died on that last day alone? Thoughts like these frequently threatened to overwhelm Harry with anguish, and they certainly would have, if not for the warm bundle he currently held before him. Hermione turned over in his arms and smiled at him - and, sure enough, the pain was washed away.

In time, Harry would feel the full sting of this great sadness, would know the true pain of all his losses. But, for now, it was kept at bay, chased away by the jubilation of Hermione's presence. Being with her, holding her, kissing her, and knowing that he had a whole lifetime to spend with her made him so deliriously joyful that sometimes he was positively dizzy with happiness. This particular morning was one such occasion.

"Hey you," said Hermione, peering up at him and snuggling against his chest.

"Good morning, beautiful," replied Harry, "sleep well?"

"Of course. You make quite the excellent teddy-bear, Harry," cooed Hermione, squeezing him tighter. "But we'd best be getting out of bed. We don't want to be late, do we?"

"I s'pose not…"

Harry sighed, desperately wanting to stay in bed with her for a few hours longer, but, sadly, he had fallen in love with Hermione Granger. And Hermione Granger was nothing if not punctual.

Hermione dislodged herself from Harry's grip and, smiling, stretched by arching her back and pushing her hands forward on the bed, looking rather like a contented house cat. It was, Harry noted, quite adorable.

"You're the cutest thing I've ever seen," said Harry, eliciting an appreciative kiss from Hermione.

"Thank you. Now - go get ready."

Doing as he was told, Harry lazily made his way to the bathroom that was connected to the master bedroom of Number 12 Grimmauld Place, which he and Hermione had been staying in since the battle. Various friends (many of them Weasleys) had been dropping by frequently, and today Harry and Hermione were meeting Ron and Luna for lunch. Those two have been spending a lot of time together lately, mused Harry as he washed his face in the basin.

Brushing his untidy hair back, Harry took a moment to survey himself in the mirror. He looked older, more care-worn, though his emerald eyes shined brightly from beneath his weathered visage. The lightning bolt on his forehead was joined now by new scars, the last gifts of Tom Riddle. Long streaks, like claw-marks from some massive beast, were etched upon his face - three at the jaw-line, one across his left eye. They were curse-marks - permanent.

Sighing, Harry passed a hand over his face, momentarily allowing a wave of grief to course through him. Voldemort was dead. The Wizarding World was saved. But some things had been wounded too deeply. Some scars would never heal.

Then Harry felt a pair of arms encircle his shoulders from behind. Looking up, he saw Hermione's loving, chocolate-brown eyes in the mirror. She reached up, held his face in her hands, and planted feather-light kisses on each of his scars. Then she whispered in his ear:

"You're perfect."

...

They met Ron and Luna at the door of a small café in one of London's more pleasant districts. Harry noticed, with a shock of recognition, that Ron and Luna had been holding hands, though he was more than prepared to let it go for Ron's sake. Hermione, however, was not so easy to deal with.

"Alright…" sighed Ron, upon seeing Hermione's wry smile, "out with it, then…"

"What's this?" said Hermione gleefully, "how long have you two…?"

Harry surveyed Ron's hilariously tortured expression and smiled broadly; Luna, looking quite as spaced-out as ever, looked ready to divulge the full details. Acting every bit the best mate a guy could ask for, Harry quickly (though regretfully) intervened…

"Hermione, dear," said Harry, wrapping an arm around her and ushering her into the restaurant, "let's find a table…"

Ron uttered a silent "THANK YOU" as he and Luna followed them inside.

Over sandwiches, Ron filled the group in on some of the details his father had shared with him over the past few days. It seemed that Kingsley Shacklebolt would indeed be acting as Minister for Magic, at least for the interim, and his first order of business had been to free all the innocent wizards imprisoned under Thicknesse's regime. The surviving Death Eaters who had not immediately surrendered were quickly being apprehended and sent to Azkaban, which was no longer being staffed by Dementors. As expected, Professor McGonagall had been made the Headmistress of Hogwarts, and had reappointed Remus Lupin as DDA teacher and Head of Gryffindor House. Harry himself had already been contacted by the Ministry as a candidate for several prestigious positions, though he had yet to give the idea much thought so soon after Voldemort's defeat. And while there was still a great deal of clean-up work to be done, overall the future of Wizarding England looked bright.

Unfortunately, the key issue of the day could not be put off for long, and soon Hermione had given it her full attention. Luna had no problems opening up about it.

"It was during the course of the battle, actually," began Luna, staring into her tea with a dreamy smile on her pale face, "Ronald simply could not wait any longer…"

"Well, it was sort of 'now-or-never', wasn't it?" said Ron defensively, "you two did the same thing, didn't you?"

"You've got me there," laughed Harry, while Hermione simply blushed and turned the conversation back on the duo across the table.

"Yes, well… I'm glad you were able get together. You make a rather… interesting pair..."

Ron's ears turned a bright shade of red. It was true - they did seem like a rather odd couple. But, somehow, in some strange way, they seemed to work quite well together.

"Ronald likes my cooking," said Luna, which, Harry noted, would certainly explain a great deal of the attraction, "Have you tried my dirigible plum pudding, Harry? It really is quite good."

"Ah, yes," said Ron, taking on a dreamy look of his own, "it was love at first bite."

This earned him three very different reactions: a hearty laugh from Harry, and punch on the arm from Hermione, and, from Luna, an appreciative kiss on the cheek.

An interesting pair indeed, thought Harry.

...

After lunch, Harry and Hermione stopped to sit on a park bench and enjoy what had become a warm, golden afternoon. With his arm draped around Hermione and her head resting on his shoulder, Harry was once again overcome with sensations of peaceful bliss, and he realized, keenly now, that this must be what it felt like to be in love.

"'Mione," began Harry, his tone cautious but hopeful, "do you feel it, too?"

Hermione understood almost immediately.

"Yes. It's wonderful, isn't it?"

"Wonderful? It's bloody brilliant!"

They both laughed at the sudden Ron-ism, but, truthfully, that was the best way Harry could express the feeling. Bloody brilliant.

"Hey, Hermione?"

"Hmm?"

"What do you want to do now? I mean… now that it's all over - er, just beginning, I mean. Are you going back to Hogwarts?"

Hermione seemed to consider this carefully for a moment before responding.

"Maybe, but… I was thinking of trying something else, actually…" said Hermione, trailing off.

"Something like…?" probed Harry, poking her in the side (one of her many ticklish areas).

"Oh, Harry. You'll just laugh," she concluded, blushing shyly now.

"You know I won't. What is it?"

"I… well… I was thinking of maybe trying - one day, that is - of trying to be… Minister for Magic…"

Hermione had barely finished before Harry scooped her up in a hug and kissed her vigorously.

"Oh, Hermione, that's great!"

"…really?" said Hermione, still flustered from Harry's kiss-attack.

"Absolutely! You're a shoe-in, no question."

"Thank you Harry, but we'll see. One day, maybe," she concluded wistfully. "But what about you, Harry? What's next for the Savior of the Wizarding World?"

"Me?" asked Harry. He honestly hadn't given the future too much thought, beyond his next kiss with Hermione, that is. After hearing her ambition, though, the answer seemed obvious. "I want to be the Minster for Magic's husband."

And that comment earned him more than a few kisses from the future Minister.

...

Night had fallen as the happy couple made their way back to Grimmauld Place. A few blocks from home, Harry quickly ducked into a small shop and returned carrying an ice-cream cone in each hand. Hermione grasped one and surveyed it curiously, giving it an experimental lick.

"'Mione," said Harry, chuckling at the sight, "you have eaten ice-cream before, haven't you?"

"Of course," responded Hermione, glaring at him indignantly (and adorably). "It's just, well, my parents never let me have much of it - dentists, you know - so I'm still a bit unfamiliar with it…"

"Like this, see?" Harry leaned over and licked her cone to demonstrate, then kissed her quickly, giving her a taste of strawberry-and-Harry ice cream (a very unique flavor). "Good, right?"

"Very!" said Hermione, nodding vigorously. She gave the cone another large lick, seeming to enjoy it greatly, before her features suddenly contorted in pain. Brain-freeze.

Laughing, Harry kissed both her temples and put his arm around her shoulders.

"You're perfect."