DISCLAIMER: I am not J.K. Rowling nor am I making any money from writing this fic, though that would be nice wouldn't it?
AUTHOR'S NOTES: Well, it's almost over. Just one more chapter and we can all move on. I just want to warn you all that there might be some minor grammar mistakes since the only beta I have seems to be myself. Thanks to all who've been here from the beginning, who have read and reviewed, cried and laughed and yes even back spaced in disgust thinking "eww, Harry and Hermione?" Well enough of this, onto the story.
When you try your best but you don’t succeed
When you get what you want but not what you need
When you feel so tired but you can’t sleep
Stuck in reverse
And the tears come streaming down your face
When you lose something you can’t replace
When you love someone but it goes to waste
Could it be worse?
-Coldplay “Fix you”
****
September 28, 2005
She could feel his presence in the doorway. She glances over her shoulder to find him watching her with his hands in his pockets and his shoulder propped against the doorframe. She turns back to the stove.
“You came back.”
“I always do,” he answers quietly.
A lock of golden hair falls into her eyes and she pushes it behind her ear.
“Where did you go?”
“Out.”
Her hand trembles and her grip on the spatula tightens.
“Really? Where?”
She could hear him approaching him and she tenses.
“I saw Ron.”
She feels him wrap his arms around her waist, and struggles not to tremble. He buries his face in her hair and inhales. Her eyes shut involuntarily as her will power begins to crumble at his touch, but something else tugs at her, not letting go.
“Only Ron?” she asks.
The bacon sizzles and pops.
He squeezes his eyes shut and sighs heavily, and she already knows his answer before she feels his lips brush against her ear as he murmurs, “No.”
Gwen fights back tears, untangles herself from him and moves away. She busies herself with the plates as she tries to control her flailing emotions.
“Gwen,” Harry pleads as she brushes past him a second time on her way to the drawers.
Gwen raises a hand.
“Please, Harry. Don’t.”
They eat in silence. She can feel his eyes on her, but she dares not look up. In the midst of the meal, for a split second, their eyes meet, but she tears hers away before the tears could fall.
She takes her dishes to the sink and begins to wash them. He makes to help her, but with a shake of her head she says dully, “Don’t bother.” She could feel his anger and annoyance flaring before he silently dries his hands and leaves the room. Moments later she hears his heavy footfalls approaching the door.
“I’m going to work,” he says roughly.
Then he is gone.
Clear water cascades onto the soapy dishes. Her lip trembles. The pressure within her builds until it becomes too unbearable to batter away. Her lovely features crumble as her gaze falls upon a sparkling object anointing her finger. Her vision blurs. She leans on the ledge with one hand and brings the other up to her face in despair, while her shoulders shake with grief as she purges the sorrow within. Gwen knows what she must do.
****
The sun sets, painting the sky with strokes of rose. He works at his desk, only half listening to the details of past assignments that Miles Regent is listing. Miles hands Harry yet again another sheet of parchment, which Harry briefly scans and signs.
He is tired and wants to go home, but the image of Gwen’s saddened eyes looking into his own stops him from dropping everything and walking out the door.
“Dr. Finnegan has reported that Weasley has completely recovered with no complications and is now being transported to his flat as we speak,” Miles says while shuffling through his reports.
Harry nods, feeling slightly relieved at hearing one piece of good news. Miles pauses to clear his throat, making his transition. Harry drums his fingers against his desk in agitation.
“Moving onto the Levington case-”
“So, er, how’s the married life, Regent?”
Miles looks up from the parchment, clearly startled at Harry’s interruption.
“Er, it’s…it’s, er, fine, Mr. Potter. Now about the case-”
“And you’ve been married for, how many years now? Two? Three?”
“Er, four, Mr. Potter.”
“Four years. That’s not bad for a man as young as yourself.”
Miles thinks this comment strange coming from a man only five years older than his own twenty five years.
“Why, er, thank you, sir.”
Miles’ eyes dart from his sheets to the man sitting at the desk, clearly befuddled on why Harry would take such a sudden interest in his personal life.
Gathering his wits about him, Miles opens his mouth, about to carry on with the report when Harry suddenly pushes his chair back and stands. Miles watches the clearly troubled wizard pace back and forth. His features darken and his brow furrows as he unconsciously mutters to himself. Miles clears his throat, and at the intruding sound Harry lifts his gaze from the floor and to the man standing before him. He appears startled; as if he has just realized that he is not alone.
“Sir, if this is a bad time I could-”
“No, no, please continue, Regent. I’m sorry if my mind appears to be somewhere else.”
“Right, well, regarding the Levington case, Tonks has been able to gather some information that-”
“Regent, you’ve known me for five yea-”
“Six, sir.”
“Ah, even better. So you wouldn’t mind if I happened to, er, inquire as to, er, if you are capable of granting me with a bit of advice?”
“Is there anything troubling you, sir?”
“Me? No. It’s, er, a friend… of mine. He’s having a bit of trouble with his…fiancé, and he’s not quite sure what to do.”
“Cold feet?”
Harry laughs softly as he says, “No. No, it’s much more complicated than that, I’m afraid.”
The two stand in silence as Harry sets his eye upon the setting sun. Miles looks around the room for a lack of anything better to do and scratches the back of his neck.
“How did you know?” Harry asks, not taking his gaze from the slowly darkening sky.
“Know what, sir?”
“That she was the one.”
This is probably by far the strangest thing Harry has ever asked him and not to mention the most intriguing.
Miles takes a moment to think it over but with a shrug he merely says, “I just did.”
Harry turns to face him, a wry grin on his face.
“What, no bolts of lighting? No neon signs screaming her name?”
“No.”
“You just knew?” he asks incredulously.
“I just knew.”
“How? How did you know that from all of the witches in this world that you could have chosen, from all of the witches that you are close to, how did you know that she was the only one you wanted?”
Silence hangs over the both of them and Harry, turning back to the window, begins to think that all of this is just a load of foolishness until, “I think it was her smile,” Miles says quietly. His voice, breaking the ongoing silence stretching between them, booms in Harry’s ears and he jerks his head to look behind him.
“What?”
“It was the way she laughed.”
Harry noticed Miles’ eyes take on a far away look and his lips forming a faint smile as he continues, “It was the way her eyebrows furrow when she’s annoyed with me. The way she chews her bottom lip while she’s reading a good book. The sparkle in her eyes whenever she talks about her students’ wild antics.”
Miles blinks and looks flustered to have uttered such rubbish before the infamous Harry Potter standing before him. However, the expression on this said wizard’s face surprises Miles, for Harry doesn’t look as if he were to burst out laughing from the unbelievably sappy sentiments that tumbled from Mile’s mouth just moments ago. Instead he looks thoughtful. Harry stuffs his hands in his pockets and turns to the window once more, propping himself up against the window frame.
“Erm, Have I- Have I been of any help, sir?”
“Loads, Regent. Thank you.”
Still puzzled by Harry’s strange behaviour, Miles looks down at his report and back up at Harry, unsure of whether to continue or not. Without warning, there is a knock and the door opens. At the intruding sound Harry turns and all rational thought promptly takes its leave.
Hermione.
“Oh, I’m so sorry. Am I interrupting anything?” Hermione asks, peeking from the doorway.
Harry glances at Regent then back at Hermione.
Say yes. Tell her you’re busy. Tell her to go.
“No, not at all. Regent, we can continue this tomorrow.”
“Sir.”
The man gathers his things and takes his leave while Harry mentally kicks himself.
He takes off his glasses and rubs his eyes in annoyance. Sighing, he places his glasses back on and immediately wishes he had thrown them away. Hermione stares at him with a worried look plastered on her features, but Harry pays no mind to this. He is mildly aware of his eyes roaming across her elegantly dressed figure. She has on a strapless black evening gown. Her hair falls softly over her shoulders.
“Wow,” he breathes. “You look… incredible.”
“Thank you,” she says with a smile and Harry is glad for the desk separating the two of them. There is a moment of silence between them before she says, “You missed the ceremony.”
"Ceremony? What ceremo- oh bollocks, Hermione I’m so sorry. I completely forgot.”
“Is everything alright Harry?” she asks, stepping forward and peering up at his face.
Harry clings to the desk.
“Why do you ask?”
“I talked to Ron-”
Merlin, he didn’t-
“He told me you saw him this morning.”
“Yeah, well.”
“Harry, are you daft? Do you know how many laws you’ve broken by doing that?”
“Seven.”
“Do you know how much trouble you could have been in?”
“Loads. I know.”
Hermione sighs, exasperated and moves to him. He fights to not step back and away from her as her scent envelops him.
“Harry, we are not children anymore. We’re not in Hogwarts any longer. There are no points to be deducted from. You can’t just go running around breaking any rule and damned the consequences. What if you botched up one of the wards?”
“Hermione-”
“You could have gotten yourself killed! What was so important that you couldn’t wait until visiting hours? What was so important that you were willing to risk your life?”
“Hermione, why don’t we go somewhere else and talk about this?”
“Here is as good as any other place, Harry. Now answer my question.”
Harry rubs the back of his neck and looks out at the night sky as he mumbles, “I couldn’t sleep.”
“You couldn’t sleep? So you decide to cure your little case of insomnia by trying to kill yourself?”
“I wasn’t trying to ki-” Harry stops himself, not wanting to argue and instead continues in a steady voice, “I had to talk to Ron and it couldn’t wait till daylight.”
Hermione gives him a calculating look as she searches his eyes for something.
“Are you sure you’re alright?”
“I’m fine.”
“Does it have anything to do with work?”
Harry chuckles to himself. “God I wish it did. No, it’s much more personal than that.”
There is a moment of silence and Hermione looks away, not able to meet his eyes for some unfathomable reason.
“Gwen?” she says in a small voice.
Harry does not utter a word.
Hermione fiddles with the purse in her hand and asks, “Would you like to go for a walk?”
*****
The moon hangs high overhead illuminating the lone couple. One has his hands in his pockets and the other firmly clasps her purse. They are silent. Every now and then a familiar face passes them along the path and they are forced to smile or nod in greeting. Then they continue onward, comfortable in each other’s presence, but anticipating the other’s next words.
It is Hermione that breaks the silence with the question that she has been burning with from the moment Ron had told her about the visit.
“Why didn’t you come to me?”
“It’s…complicated, Hermione. You wouldn’t understand.”
A bit miffed at his answer she looks up at him, her eyes glinting dangerously.
“And how could you possibly know that?”
Harry sighs inwardly. “Trust me.”
Hermione suddenly stops, hands firmly on her hips.
“Has there ever been a time when my advice has never
helped?”
Harry smiles wryly as he says, “Well, there was this one time-”
Hermione cuts him off with a swat of her hand against his arm.
“Honestly, Harry, this is serious.”
Harry laughs as he says, “Alright, I’m sorry.”
Silence.
They begin walking again.
“Maybe I can help.”
“Believe me, Hermione. You’d do more harm than good.”
Harry’s eyes, directed at the ground and not at the woman at his side, miss the hurt look that flashes across her face.
Hermione pauses in her steps and places a hand on his arm. Her touch burns him and he does all he can to prevent himself from taking her in his arms.
“Do you trust me, Harry?”
“What? What kind of question is that? Of course I do.”
“Then why won’t you talk to me?”
“Am I not talking to you now?”
She rolls her eyes. “You know what I mean.”
A pained expression flickers in his eyes before he says quietly, “I can’t.”
“Why won’t you tell me, Harry?”
“I can’t, Hermione.”
“Tell me, Harry.”
“No.”
“Tell me what’s troubling you,” she demands, and her eyes
widen in surprise for a brief moment as he takes her shoulders in a firm grip.
“How can I?” he says with wild eyes and voice tinged with desperation. “How can I when the thing that troubles me most involves you?”
She is too stunned by his words that she cannot speak.
“I’m getting married, Hermione to the most beautiful woman. She’s sweet. She’s kind. She’s wonderful. She loves me. So why can’t I stop thinking of you?”
A burst of laughter from a couple passing by breaks the spell between them and Harry looks away, embarrassed. He rubs the back of his neck, smiles fleetingly at the couple and takes Hermione’s hands. He leads her off the path and into a circle of trees. She cannot take her eyes off their clasped hands and doesn’t say a word.
“I’ve been trying to forget. I’ve been trying to push these feelings away, but the harder I try the more stubborn the feelings become.”
His gaze travels from their clasped hands to Hermione’s thunderstruck features.
“Harry, what are you trying to say?” Hermione asks in a trembling voice.
Harry swallows.
Dare he look into her eyes?
Dare he allow himself to drown in them?
“I…I think I’m in love with you.”
Hermione blinks, but doesn’t say a word and Harry takes a deep breath and continues, “Today when I saw Ron I asked him for advice because well, I couldn’t go to you could I?”
He laughs nervously, but gaining no response from her he says, “Well I- I asked him what I should do, and he got me thinking. I do love Gwen and I am willing to spend the rest of my life with her, but then there’s you. Hermione, you’ve been a part of my life for the longest time and I just can’t imagine a moment when I didn’t think of you. When I didn’t know that you were always there. And the thing is, once I stand up at that altar, once I say ‘I do’, I’d be giving up my whole self to Gwen, but how can I do that when a part of me belongs to you?”
Before he could stop himself, he brings a hand to brush away an unruly strand of her hair. Mere seconds later, he blinks as he realizes what he has done, and in a flash darts his hand away.
“Why are you telling me this, Harry? After all this time, why are to telling me this now?”
He looks at her and almost smiles.
“Because it was just today I realized that I might be making the biggest mistake of my life by marrying a woman whose love I can’t return.” He moves towards her, closing the space between them. “And I think- I know this may sound ridiculous but, I think that there’ll always be a part of me that wants you.”
Completely unaware of his actions and his surroundings save her, Harry leans down towards her. He feels the slight pressure of her hands on his shoulders as she stands on her toes to meet him. The feeling of her lips brushing against his own sets off alarm bells in his head and his eyes fly open as he quickly steps away from her.
“I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking, I- I didn’t mean to- I-”
“Harry-” Hermione takes a step towards him, but Harry moves away wanting to put as much space between them as he can.
“No, don’t come any closer. If you do I- Just go, Hermione. Go before I do something we’ll both regret.”
She looks at him not saying a word, then nods and dissapperates. One moment he is looking at her and the next, she is gone.
*****
Downing another glass, Harry thanks the barman as he places the platter of food before him.
“Rough night?”
“Something like that, yeah.”
Harry pushes the now empty glass to join the three more on the other side of the table.
“Don’ yeh worry. I’ve got jus’ the stuff.”
Some time later, with the table cleared and only a bottle of firewhisky to keep him company, Harry tosses back another glass and fills it up once more. He winces as the liquid burns a path of fire down his throat. The clock chimes the twelfth hour.
*****
September 29, 2005- 12:40am
Now back in his office, Harry sits at his desk with his head in his hands. There is a knock and the door opens. He lifts his head, his eyes shadowed from fatigue. At the sight of the figure in the doorway all feeling of exhaustion evaporates and his throat goes dry.
“Hello, Harry.”
“Gwen,” Harry breathes.
“May I come in?”
He jumps to his feet.
“Yeah, yeah of course.”
Gwen closes the door behind her.
“When you didn’t come home I got worried. You never sent an owl so I thought… well, you’re fine then, aren’t you?”
“Yeah, just tired that’s all.”
“I came in earlier but Mr. Lupin told me that you had gone out.”
“Yeah, I…I did.”
They stand there staring at each other, wondering what to say next.
“Are you hungry?” he asks.
“Oh, no thank you. I already ate. You?”
“No, I picked something up at the pub.”
A dash of awkward silence swallows them once more.
“It’s a lovely night. Do you…do you want to go for a walk?”
“Yeah, sure.”
****
1:00am
They are sitting on a bench looking out at the river. There is silence around them save for the distant sounds of the night. Echoes of passing cars and buses making their rounds whisper in their ears. Every now and then a burst of a horn blares, quickly followed by a shout, then the travelers continue to go about their business.
The sound of the water lapping against the port, pulling in and out with graceful rhythmic motions, gives the couple the air of peace which they both are struggling to find. Peace however is far from their minds and their unconscious actions show it.
The man, his unruly hair as dark as the clothes he is wearing, shifts in his seat every few moments. He brings his right hand up to push his dark glasses up the bridge of his nose. Bright green eyes scan his surroundings as if by habit, darting to every dark corner or sudden movement; not nervously, but still seeming quite alert. A touch of sadness mars his face, coupled with an endless fatigue that would surely never leave his chiseled features.
The woman beside him is just as soft as he is hard. Her physical appearance looks to be a mockery of him, being the complete opposite. Golden silken hair, which his fingers are well acquainted with, is tamed into an elegant twist at the top of her head. Her flawless face is turned in the direction of the bridge.
Her eyes, the only thing that seems to not oppose the man’s features are blue and just as bright as his. A tinge of worry and a familiar hint of sadness now take residence in them. Her hands calmly folded in her lap don’t betray her emotions. Instead, her lip becomes the perpetrator as it allows itself to be continuously bitten with a furious intensity and determination that it begins to weep crimson.
Neither of them says a word to each other. They appear to be merely content in their present situation of being left to their own thoughts. The young man dares to steal a look at his companion from the corner of his eye and he manages to catcher her absentmindedly fingering the ring adorning her finger. His features darken and he focuses his gaze on the dark waters.
“Harry?”
The timid voice startles him out of his reverie and he turns to find that her head is still inclined toward the bridge, seemingly far more interested in the passing cars than her fiancée sitting beside her. No matter that she is the first to utter a word since the two of them had stepped outside. No matter that their once loving relationship is now at this very moment, crumbling in their fingertips, leaving the remains to be taken and caressed by the cool breeze.
He doesn’t answer her and only waits with baited breath for her to continue, to say the words that he could not.
“I’m sorry. For this morning, I mean.”
“No, it’s me who should be sorry. I should have waited until morning to see Ron and not leave you in the middle of the night.”
Gwen looks to her clasped hands. The diamond ring winks back at her and she swallows.
“Is that it then?” He looks to her once more as she continues, “Are we just going to go on with our lives pretending that nothing is the matter and that we are happy with each other?”
“Aren’t we?” he says, longing for her to look at him.
“Don’t be thick, Harry. Please. Not now,” she says and looks out at the rolling waters.
It is now Harry’s turn to look at his hands.
“What do you want me to say?” he says with a voice tinged with helplessness.
“Tell me you love me.”
“I do.”
She turns to finally look at him and he is startled at the look of intensity burning in her eyes.
“Do you, Harry? Only me?”
She searches his eyes as if her answer could be found there, and when he doesn’t say a word she only turns away and raises her gaze to the night sky, desperately fighting back tears.
“You can’t have both of us, Harry,” she says in a strangely calm voice.
“Don’t you think I know that?” he whispers in agony.
“Do you even know if she holds the same feelings for you? Well? Do you? But you’ll still go on loving her anyway won’t you?”
She turns to him, but he is now staring at his hands. His mouth opens as if to answer but not a sound comes forth. Gwen swallows and smiles ruefully.
“I won’t share you, Harry. And I know when I am beaten.”
“Beaten?”
“Oh, surely you’re not as daft as that. The girl is so far gone that even I cannot believe she’s managed to stay away from you for this long.”
“What are you talking about?”
He looks up to meet her and finds that Gwen has no longer bothered to hide her tears for they sparkle, unshed in her eyes.
“She loves you, Harry. She simply adores you. And she fights tooth and nail to hide it from me.”
Harry cannot believe his ears.
“This can’t go on. You do know that right, darling?”
“What?”
“Us.”
This conversation sounds familiar to his ear and he twists his body to fully face her. Taking her hands in his he says, “You don’t mean that.”
She only looks at their entwined hands. The diamond glints back at her.
“I do,” she swallows before says, “We have to end it.”
Harry breathes her name.
“I can’t go on like this, knowing that you belong to another. Knowing that you can be far happier with her than you are with me.”
“Gwen, you don’t-”
“I do. I do mean this, Harry.” She disentangles her hands from his. “And I want you to know that I’ll never regret a single moment.”
He is at a loss for words and something inside him clenches painfully as he sees her slowly taking off his ring from her finger and placing it into his hand.
“It was wonderful while it lasted, Harry. But we have to end it.”
He looks at the ring resting on his palm. The beauty mocks him and he feels hollow inside. He looks up to find that Gwen’s face is streaked with tears as she tries to control her trembling voice.
“You never loved me. At least, not the way I wanted you to.”
Finally finding his voice, he reaches to place a hand on her cheek, brushing away fresh tears cascading down her smooth skin.
“I never wanted to hurt you, Gwen.”
His hand falls back to his lap but he doesn’t turn away. Her eyes fail to meet his as her fingers twist in her lap; her left hand, now bear.
“I know,” she says.
Silence falls over them once more, broken only by the passing vehicles, rolling waves and the faint sounds of sadness from the woman on the bench. The man hands her a handkerchief and she thanks him silently and dashes her tears away. Moments later with faint goodbyes and a polite refusal to see her home, the woman makes to hand him his handkerchief, but he pushes her hand away gently with a shake of his head. She nods, looks at him one last time then walks away.
The man, now quite alone looks down at the object in his hand. His face twisting in grief, he throws the sparkling object into the river. For a moment, the diamond shines bright in the moonlight then it disappears with barely a splash and sinks into the dark waters. The man then leans forward as he rests his elbows on his knees and places his head in his hands.
Minutes go by and with a sigh he looks up. Taking off his glasses, he rubs his eyes in fatigue then stands. Shoving his hands in his pockets he walks off into the night.