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."