The Choices We Make

 

It had been raining heavily that day. As darkness began to fall over the secluded cottage in Godric’s Hollow, its elderly occupant prepared to go to sleep earlier than usual.

 

The atmosphere inside the cottage was gloomier than the weather outside, but it was nothing compared to the emotions that were raging inside his heart as his bright green eyes gazed over various pictures of a bushy-haired girl waving happily at him. The girl in the picture had been the source of his current state of mind.

 

His mother’s eyes, his father’s talent, his godfather’s will, and friends’ loyalty; what had they brought him? The endless void no longer amused him; the youth had passed, and now the crippled shadow of his former self laid sufficient evidence. The fame was gone; by then its appeal had grown too bitter. He was their saviour, but at what cost? All those he had cherished, he had lost.

 

A pale hand reached for a picture, a sanctuary to emotions no longer tainted. Looking up at him, a young face, bright brown eyes, bushy hair…and a smile he would never allow himself to mistake. Lost, but not forgotten…

 

His thoughts were broken by a familiar elfish voice.

 

“Can Dobby get Harry Potter anything, Sir?” Dobby asked timidly, looking up apprehensively at his master. Dobby the House Elf had been serving Harry Potter for the past one-hundred years.

 

“No. Thank you for asking Dobby. You may go, I will be retiring to bed,” Harry replied as he headed for his bedroom.

 

That was easier said than done. Harry struggled with the prospect of going to sleep. He desperately wanted to fall into a deep dreamless slumber, but as he had experienced great anguish over the course of his life, it was never to be.

 

He lay on the bed, tossing and turning, trying not to think about the upcoming events of the next day. Slowly, he began to feel drowsy as the familiar smiling image of a bushy haired know-it-all filled his thoughts. He could still remember the smell of her hair as if it were only yesterday. As the innocent, brown eyes of Hermione came flooding into his thoughts, he fell fast asleep…

 

However, what he dreaded the most happened every time he fell asleep.

 

Harry believed that he had finally defeated him in the Chamber of Secrets on that fateful day at the end of his seventh year at Hogwarts.

 

His experiences over the last one hundred years had shown him how wrong he had been.

 

Tonight had not been different from any other. It hadn’t been more than fifteen minutes since he’d fallen asleep before the nightmare had begun.

 

“You cannot sleep now! Wake up, Harry Potter! How can you sleep peacefully when I am not able to? Wake up!” screamed a terrifyingly familiar voice as Harry woke up with a start, sweating profusely.

 

Staring into the darkness, trying to regulate his breathing, Harry realized why he had been so nervous earlier that night.

 

He would be turning one-hundred and eighteen years old in a few hours. Harry got out of bed and paced his bedroom anxiously. It would also be the one hundredth anniversary since his triumph over the Dark Lord, yet Harry didn’t feel like celebrating.

 

Hermione and Ron, along with their son James and his wife Cecilia, were coming to visit him the next day for his birthday. Harry lay down in bed again and stared up at the ceiling.

 

The cottage in which he lived in was the same one that had been destroyed one-hundred and seventeen years ago by the curse that had temporarily vanquished Voldemort. On that Halloween evening of 1981, Voldemort had attacked the Potters, killing all but baby Harry. Harry had had the cottage rebuilt exactly as it had once been when he finished school as a tribute to his parents’ sacrifice for him.

 

Not many people knew that he and Voldemort shared a bond deeper than anyone had imagined. The night Voldemort had given him the scar; he had also unwittingly linked his life to Harry’s in a way that would haunt them both for the rest of their lives. But what nobody realized was that although Voldemort had been slain by Harry in the battle at the end of his seventh year, Voldemort’s ghost had been ceaselessly tormenting him throughout his dreams ever since.

 

Harry got out of bed once again, his troubling thoughts stopping him from sleeping, and took out the Pensieve he stored in his closet. He looked into it and breathed a sigh of relief as he touched his wand to his head, each time removing silver drops of memory and placing them into the Pensieve. As he finished, he started recollecting the events of the day when he had finally defeated the Dark Lord, and watched the memory of Voldemort’s final moments.

 

The Dark Lord lay injured at the foot of the statue of Salazar Slytherin in the Chamber of Secrets, breathing hoarsely alongside the petrified bodies of Ron and Hermione. He’d been cursing the day he had made the foolish mistake of becoming mortal once again by taking Harry’s blood. Voldemort looked up at Harry as he muttered his last words.

 

“Remember this, Potter: you will pay for this. The Dark Lord does not let go of his enemies so easily. Your parents were noble in death,” he sneered. “Like you, they resisted the path I had chosen. And what did they get from their sacrifice? A terrible death which allowed their only child to spend his childhood with wretched Muggle fools. The same fate awaits you,” threatened Voldemort as he moaned in pain.

 

“It is funny when I think about that,” he mused. “The night I attacked you when you were a baby, I left a part of me in you because of the curse that failed. But you left a part in me as well! We became a part of each other. I know that you fear becoming me. I know that you have desperately tried to avoid becoming what I am or ‘was’ as I soon will be,” he said as if he found that extremely amusing.

 

“Even then, I could never really understand you, Potter. You had the whole world at your feet. You could have been the greatest and most powerful wizard this world has ever known. But you threw it all away - and for what? To impress that fool Dumbledore?” Voldemort asked in an exasperated voice.

 

“You made a choice all those years ago for ideals that you believed in. I made a choice seven years ago for the ideals I believed in,” Harry spat back, shaking his head vigorously. “I was right to follow Dumbledore; you were wrong. You were so horribly wrong.”

 

“I will never leave you. I will haunt you forever. Do you hear me?” Voldemort screamed in agony and frustration as he took his last breath.

 

Harry skipped a few memories forward to witness the evening later on that same day that had changed his life forever. Everyone at Hogwarts had been celebrating the death of the Dark Lord in the Great Hall; it had been such a happy day.

 

Harry had decided to reveal his feelings for Hermione to her. He’d been holding his mother’s wedding ring Sirius had given him once his name had been cleared, in his hand all day, intending to give it to her as an engagement ring. He fingered it with a small grin on his face.

 

But, Harry wasn’t able to gather the courage he needed to go and propose to her. Instead, he decided to go and talk to Ron about it.  But he never had the chance. Ron ran up to him, sitting down on the bench beside him.

 

“I’ve got some good news to tell you,” he said excitedly, motioning to Hermione to join them.

 

“Me too, but you go first. Out with it!” said Harry teasingly as Hermione joined them.

 

“Ok. Here goes.” Ron breathed in deeply and faced Hermione. “Er, Hermione, I know we’re not going out anymore, but what happened today made me realise – I can’t imagine life without you. Will you marry me?” he asked tentatively, grabbing hold of her hand and squeezing it tightly.

 

Harry and Hermione froze.

 

“I love you, Hermione. I thought… it was only natural,” said Ron rather nervously as he noticed the startled expression on Hermione’s face.

 

Hermione looked at Harry in a strange, tearful way before running off.

 

“What happened? Aren’t I supposed to propose to the girl I love? Harry, is there someone else in her life? You’re the person she tells her innermost secrets to, apart from me; you must know. I can’t imagine my life without her. She’s everything to me. I guess I’m just not good enough for her,” said Ron tearfully.

 

Harry was crestfallen. His best friend in the whole world wanted to marry the girl that he himself had loved more than anything else. What was he to choose - his best friend’s happiness or his own? Then he glanced towards Mrs. Weasley, who was hugging and consoling a crying Hermione and remembered how kind Mrs. Weasley had been to him over the years. She had been the closest thing to a mother he had ever had. No, he corrected himself, the Weasleys had been the closest thing to the family he never had and always wanted.

 

He made his decision.

 

“Don’t worry,” he reassured Ron. “There’s no one else in her life. She loves only you. It’s just that she’s a little bit shocked at your proposal – it came totally out of the blue! Wait here, I’ll talk to her,” said Harry, hurriedly turning from Ron as tears threatened to overwhelm him. He walked towards Hermione.

 

“Er, Hermione? I need to talk to you in private,” said Harry nervously, watching Hermione trying to regain her composure as she took leave of a worried Mrs. Weasley’s company. Her eyes were red from crying. Harry was in a daze as he entered the empty Gryffindor common room with her.

 

They were alone. Both of them kept glancing at one other for what seemed like hours. Suddenly, Hermione moved closer to Harry and hugged him tightly. She started crying again as Harry wrapped his arms around her. Harry struggled with the storm of emotions that was raging inside that tender heart of his.

 

Harry could smell the perfume she was wearing as she sobbed freely in his arms. He was devastated. He knew that Ron and Hermione had been going out on and off for the past few years, but he never realized that Ron had actually been thinking of marrying her.

 

“Don’t you want to marry Ron, Hermione? He’ll make a very good husband,” said Harry, fighting his own conflicting emotions as Hermione stopped sobbing abruptly. She jerked her head off his shoulders and looked angrily at him.

 

“You really think Ron would be the best man for me, Harry?” She asked as she tried to read Harry’s face with her tear-filled eyes.

 

“Yes. Ron’ll make a brilliant husband. He loves you. It’s only natural that he wants to marry you! Aren’t you in love with him?” Hermione nodded. “So, why won’t you marry him? Or is there someone else?” asked Harry, trying to appear cool.

 

Hermione shrugged herself out of Harry’s embrace and turned her back to him. She stared at the ceiling.

“So you think I should marry Ron?” she asked finally.

 

“Yes,” Harry answered. If only Hermione knew how that one word had sent daggers stabbing through his heart.

 

“Yes, you’re right,” she murmured after a moments thought. “I’ve gone out with him for so long, and I do love him. Why shouldn’t I marry him?” With that, Hermione left the common room and headed back to the Great Hall.

 

Harry stood there dumbfounded until Ron and Hermione entered the common room together holding hands. Ron looked so happy.

 

“Hey Harry! Guess what?” Ron said, letting go of Hermione’s hand long enough to run up to Harry. “She’s going to marry me! And you’re going to be my best man! Whatever you said to her worked - we’re getting married in two weeks time!” he said excitedly as he lovingly kissed Hermione, who had caught up to them.

 

“Congratulations! I know that you two will be very happy,” Harry said to Ron as he tried to avoid Hermione’s icy glare.

 

“By the way, Harry, what was the good news you wanted to tell me before?” asked Ron as he continued to kiss Hermione.

 

“Oh it's nothing. Hedwig just gave birth to a baby owl – a girl,” Harry lied in a cool sort of voice.

 

“That was the good news? You’re one of a kind, Harry!” laughed Ron uproariously as he hugged Hermione.

 

“You’re right on that one; he’s definitely one of a kind. Give Hedwig an extra owl treat for us,” said Hermione as she hugged Ron and kissed him passionately.

 

Harry could take no more; he excused himself and went to his dormitory.

 

It was true that Harry had never professed his love to Hermione. Partly, it was because he never had the courage to declare his love for her. And partly because he was scared she would reject him. At the same time, he knew that Ron would be devastated if he found out how Harry felt about her. Harry didn’t want to complicate things; he wanted Ron to be happy.

 

Ron and Hermione were married at the local church in Hermione’s home town. He’d been Ron’s best man. Hermione looked so beautiful, yet sad, as she walked down the aisle with her father.

”Do you, Hermione Granger, take Ronald Weasley to be your lawfully wedded husband?” asked the priest.

 

Hermione gazed for an instant towards Harry and then back to Ron before replying, “Yes, I do.”

 

“And do you, Ronald Weasley, take Hermione Granger to be your lawfully wedded wife?” asked the priest turning to Ron.

 

“I do,” said Ron without any delay.

 

“Then by the power invested in me by God, Jesus Christ and the Holy Ghost, I pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride,” the priest announced.

 

And with that kiss Ron and Hermione became husband and wife…

 

Harry remembered that scene as if it was yesterday, and he put away the Pensieve back in its closet, sadly coming back to the present, although it didn’t stop the memory from continuing in his mind.

 

The night of the wedding saw Harry and Hermione sitting alone in the Granger house as they watched people celebrate outside.

 

“I’m so happy for you,” said Harry, trying to sound cheerful. “I wish you both a happy life together. You couldn’t have chosen a better man to marry.”

 

“I know you want me to be happy,” Hermione replied. “I know you value the friendship between us more than anything in the world.” She looked lovingly into his clear green eyes.

 

Harry looked at her oddly; the bitterness of the past few days was absent in Hermione’s voice. He had never been able to understand Hermione’s feelings towards him. After all those years she had gone out with Ron, Harry had never believed that Hermione would ever have feelings for him. Neither had he ever imagined Hermione and Ron as a married couple, but this was a reality now, and that reality hurt him so much that he found it difficult to breathe. As he opened his mouth to explain how he felt, Hermione placed her finger on his lips.

 

“Don’t say anything Harry,” she whispered. “The last seven years with you and Ron have been the best years of my life. I still remember the very first time I met the both of you on the Hogwarts Express; you with that bewildered and innocent look on your face and Ron with that smudge on his nose.” She smiled at the memory. “It has all been a wonderful journey that I will never forget,” she said, tears building in her eyes as she held Harry’s hand tightly. “And you know what they say, ‘in order to hold onto something precious, one has to let go of something precious too.’ I don’t want anything to ever come between the three of us,” Hermione finished, the tears sparkling in her eyes.

 

After that night, Harry left for Godric’s Hollow so that he could be alone. As much as he loved them both, he couldn’t bear to see Ron and Hermione as a couple. Besides, he had his own demons to exorcise.

 

It had started the night he had slain Voldemort. As soon he fell asleep after the little party thrown in the common room for Ron and Hermione’s engagement, he heard a familiar evil voice.

 

“So you think you can sleep peacefully after killing me?” The voice startled him. “You are wrong, so very wrong,” Voldemort continued.

 

“You will suffer all your life as I have suffered since the night I first attacked you. Do you know that your friend Ron tried to protect your filthy little Mudblood friend by trying to fight with me? He loves her so much; he really does,” he sneered.

 

“What are you going to do? Are you going to stand aside and let him marry her or are you going to be a man and tell them the truth? You still have a chance to redeem yourself; don’t let that Weasley boy marry her,” said Voldemort as he looked strangely into Harry’s eyes. Harry remained dumbfounded, his dream self staring at the ghostly image of Voldemort in shock.

 

“The wrath of the Dark Lord falls upon his enemies even after death. Hear this, Harry Potter! You will never be able to sleep peacefully again for the rest of your life. You will always have to contend with the memories of me. I will never leave you. I will haunt your dreams, driving away all the sweet memories that you may ever have. You and I had a special bond when I was alive; we will continue to have that bond in my death - the bond of everlasting nightmares.”

 

The Dark Lord’s evil laugh echoed in Harry’s ears as he awoke from his dreadful dream the next morning. He didn’t want to go back to sleep for fear of encountering the Dark Lord again. But Harry continued to dream of him every night without fail from that point on, unable to fight sleep no matter what he did.

 

Sometimes, he would dream that he was back in the churchyard in Little Hangleton. He would look into the grave of the Dark Lord, as it cracked open to reveal Voldemort’s horribly decaying body that would rise from its coffin, staring nastily at Harry.

 

“So, you come back to me again and again, Harry Potter? As I have said before, both of us are alike in so many ways. Both of us are orphans, unloved; loners, who were always considered to be freaks by the outside world. Oh, you might not consider yourself a freak, but I do. Look at you. You have been living alone in your little cottage year after year with no one to look after you. Look at me I have been lying in this hole with no one to tend my grave!” The Dark Lord laughed, as he relished the misery of his arch nemesis.

 

“So, do you think your fate has been any different to mine, Harry Potter? Yes, you killed me, but you haven’t had much of a life to boast about since, have you? You lost that Mudblood girlfriend of yours to that red haired Weasley boy.” The Dark Lord paused thoughtfully in the middle of his tirade. “I think ‘lost’ would be the wrong word - ‘donated’ would be more appropriate. Noble, generous Harry Potter donated the love of his life,” he taunted, laughing cruelly. “Come with me and see the fool you have become. Memoritious!” he chanted. Harry began to go through what seemed like a world full of memories. His memories.

 

He was transported back to the hospital wing where Hermione had just given birth. Ron was sitting besides her holding their newborn son.

 

“Do you like that?’ the Dark Lord whispered in his ear, stunning him out of his reverie. “That baby could‘ve been yours, you know. All you had to do was to tell Hermione that you loved her that night. Instead, what did you do? You told her that that red haired boy would make a good husband. No, sorry, an excellent husband. You are pathetic,” Voldemort hissed as Harry watched Ron and Hermione look lovingly at their first born son.

 

“What was it that Dumbledore fool said once? ‘It is the choices we make that make who we are.’ I hate to say it, but that fool was right. You’ve dug your own grave, Potter, but my case was different, my grave was made by your silly little ideological beliefs. We could have been great, you know. We could have ruled the world, only if you had joined me. That girl and baby you are gazing at with so much longing could have been yours. But, you threw all that away for what? Nothing.” The Dark Lord laughed.

 

“No, you’re wrong. Dumbledore was right. I was right. Hermione would never have been my friend if I had been on your side!” screamed Harry, waking up from the dream.

 

Harry spent the rest of his life as an Auror chasing the last remaining Death Eaters. His only goal was to remove the legacy of the Dark Lord from the world forever. Now, as he was about to turn one-hundred and eighteen, he began to reminisce, lying once more on his bed, his hands behind his head. Had it been a life worth living? Why hadn’t he died along with Voldemort a hundred years ago? Why didn’t he kill himself after being tormented by him for so long in his dreams?

 

Deep down, he knew the answers to these questions. It was Hermione. Try as he might, he could never bring himself to forget the girl he loved. He knew that she would have been devastated if she came to know of his miserable state of mind. She would have been even more so if she found out that Harry had spent his life agonizing over his unrequited love for her. He went to the Burrow each year on the pretext of celebrating his birthday with them, or he would invite them to come to Godric’s Hollow for the weekend. The real reason, of course, was to get a glimpse of Hermione; otherwise he wouldn’t see them often.

 

The thought of her was the only thing that had helped him sleep at night; she gave him hope. His heart would be filled with joy whenever he saw the happiness in the faces of Hermione and Ron as they played with their son – James – over the years.

 

Hermione often asked him why he didn’t visit more often. Harry would dismiss the question with the excuse of work, but he knew that Hermione didn’t believe it; she was too smart for that. They had arrived, after a while, at an unspoken understanding about the discussion on that night of Ron’s marriage proposal, but Harry couldn’t help but think about it almost every day.

 

Hermione seemed to be happy. She was the happiest when she was playing with her son. And Ron loved her so much. Harry’s heart would fill with joy when he saw them playing with their son. Through them, he caught a glimpse of his parents playing with him when he was a baby. Lily and James Potter lived again during those moments…

 

As Harry grew older, Voldemort’s taunts grew more vicious.

 

“You still love her don’t you? You poor, pathetic man! What have all your sacrifices got you? A lonely life filled with nightmares of your arch-nemesis. Is this what your parents wished for when they gave up their lives for you? Accept it, Harry Potter; you received nothing for being famous, and for being on the ‘good side’! If you had only listened to the Sorting Hat all those years ago and had been sorted into Slytherin, you would have had anything you wished for. Including your Mudblood lover,” Voldemort taunted in one of Harry’s nastier dreams.

 

“No, I wouldn’t!” Harry spat back at the ghostly image of Voldemort that grew clearer and clearer as the years went on. “Hermione and Ron wouldn’t have been my friends if I’d been in Slytherin. I’d rather live a life full of misery than live without knowing Hermione and Ron!” Harry retorted defiantly.

 

He woke up shivering with anger. But, it made him wonder. “What good did my being famous do to me?” he pondered more than once. “I was never able to lead a normal life. I was always forced to be the ‘famous Harry Potter.’ I lost Hermione to my best friend because I was too busy fighting the Dark Lord.” He frowned darkly.

 

“Don’t lie! It’s wasn’t your fame but your friendship with Ron that made your life hell! If it hadn’t had been for that red haired boy, you would have been married to Hermione. That boy you see every year on your birthday would have been yours, and not a Weasley! Although,” the Dark Lord chuckled inside his head, “you would have been unhappy as you would still have me to contend with in your dreams, but at least you would have had Hermione and a family to comfort you.”

 

“No! Don’t you realize that I’m happy because I see Ron and Hermione leading a happy life? That’s all I want! I would never be able to live with myself if I made Ron unhappy!” said Harry determinedly.

 

“How very noble of you. But you do realize that the Granger girl might be equally as miserable as you if she feels half what you feel about her? What kind of a happy thought would that be to know that you made your other best friend unhappy and miserable just because you had to play the part of the great, noble and ever-sacrificing Harry Potter?” said the cunning voice of the Dark Lord.

 

“Stop messing with my head. Go away!” screamed Harry.

 

Harry glanced at the clock. It was exactly midnight. He was now a hundred and eighteen years old.

 

He turned his gaze to the other side of the bed to discover Hermione standing at its edge. She had tears in her eyes.

 

“Hermione,” he whispered. He looked around her. “Where are Ron, James and Cecilia? Aren’t you here a little early?” he asked, as he tried to wipe the tears that suddenly formed in his eyes.

 

“We wanted to surprise you. They’ll be here in a couple of minutes; Ron’s bringing the luggage. I heard you talking in your sleep. You were speaking in different voices,” said Hermione, looking concerned. She handed her coat to Dobby before she sat down beside Harry. “Is everything ok?”

 

“It’s nothing, just a bad dream,” Harry replied, trying to calm the volatile storm of emotions that raged inside him. Harry wasn’t sure if he would be able to keep this façade of well being for much longer.

 

To his surprise, Hermione gave him a tender kiss on his forehead. She then caressed his scar for a few moments. Harry never wanted this moment to end. He rested his head on her shoulder.

 

“Are you happy?” he whispered. “That was all I prayed for. I wanted you and Ron to be happy. I think I saw that when James was born. Believe me, all I wanted was for you and Ron to be happy,” Harry repeated, as a tear fell across his cheek.

 

They held each other for a few minutes, hugging each other tightly.

 

“This scar has been a thorn in our lives,” Hermione murmured, tracing her finger lightly over it once more. “This scar took away your mother and your father. Don’t let it take away any more of your loved ones. And don’t think for one moment that you have lived your life in vain – you’ve touched so many people, Harry. They celebrate your victories over the Dark Lord. They tell their children and grandchildren the story of ‘The Boy Who Lived’. But, not only did that boy live, he lived to make the lives of his loved ones as happy as he could make them. What greater gift can anyone give to their friends and family?” she asked in a choked voice. She had wanted to do this all her life, to try and make his pain go away. She loved him so much. And she realized at that moment that Harry loved her as much as she did.

 

She looked back at that night in the Gryffindor common room. She had tried so hard to make Harry admit his feelings for her, but she had failed. She was very angry with him at that time, but now all the anger had disappeared. She had found happiness in her life as she had a wonderful husband in Ron and an adorable son in James. They both loved her more than life itself. What more could she ask for?

 

She understood then all those years ago and even more so now that Harry loved both her and Ron very much. She had been too harsh on him by making him choose between them. She just wished she could make all his pain go away.

 

 

Some relationships don’t have to undergo a formal ceremony to be recognized as being special. They are special just by the bonds some people share with one another out of love and respect. This kind of bond is not formed by some ugly or special scar; this kind of bond is formed by the eternal love for another person. The kind of love that resided between a boy called Harry Potter and a girl called Hermione Granger.

 

Harry Potter is dead. Long live Harry Potter!