The Way We Were

Disclaimer: I don’t own Harry Potter. Duh.

 

 

Chapter 02: Perfection

 

“H-Harry?” Hermione sputtered, looking surprised at him. “W-What are you doing here?”

“Dean told me about this place. I needed to try their famous espresso,” he replied, the stare from his green eyes boring into hers. 

He wouldn’t know how much time had passed; maybe it was just a minute, even less than a minute. It was like a flip, a quick blink, and the sorrow on her eyes was gone.  Hermione gave him a smile, but Harry knew it was forced. 

“Oh, yeah! It’s the best espresso in the city!” she was talking rapidly, like it was a sudden desire to look excited, happy. “They also have a chocolate pie that is to die for, you should try it!”  

Harry nodded, taking a seat by her side. Looking at her again, it almost seemed that it was everything fine, normal.

In front of him was the smiling Hermione Granger-Weasley, smiling, talkative; the one he was used to see at every Weasley’s reunion. But now, he couldn’t stop the wonder at, or rather better, the knowledge of – the fact that it was all a lie, an act.  Harry knew that those previously sad eyes, the ones that she tried so fiercely to hide, were what she really was. 

And he hated himself for not noting them before. “How are you, Hermione?” he blurted out, cutting her off. 

Hermione blinked, mildly surprise, but managed to smile. “I’m fine, Harry.” 

 

“How are you, Hermione?” he asked again, his green stare boring into her brown eyes.

 “I already told you, Harry,” she replied with an uncertain tone, looking down. “I’m fine.” 

Harry smiled sadly, and then took her hand, squeezing it gently.  “No, you aren’t.” His voice was like a whisper. “I know you, Hermione.” 

Hermione pulled her hand away, looking up at him. “Do you?” she asked dryly. 

 

“I’m your best friend!” 

Hermione leaned closer, placing a hand on his cheek. “It has been a while since it’s been truth.” Harry opened his mouth to argue, but Hermione continued.  “In these last years I turned into being only your best friend’s wife.” 

Harry closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. He knew she was right; for as awfully painful as that was - she was right. 

He opened his eyes.  “I’m sorry.” 

Hermione shook her head. “Don’t be. It’s not your fault, or mine. Or maybe it is our fault.” She pulled her hand away from his face.

“Life happened.” 

“A perfect, happy life?”

“I’m happy,” Harry said firmly, but somehow that statement didn’t seem right. Until that very moment he had always considered himself a happy man, a dreams-realized man, but - but now, saying that simple phrase out aloud . . .

Was he only fooling himself?  It sounded so ridiculous to think that a realization about life had came to him just like that - in a Muggle café, chatting with Hermione.

Yes, it was ridiculous.  He was happy. “I’m happy,” he said it again.

Hermione didn’t say anything; instead, she opened her purse and took out some Muggle money from it. She looked around until her eyes finally found the waitress.

 “For the espresso,” she said, giving the young woman the money.  The waitress took it and smiled.

“Thank you, ma’am,” she thanked her, and then walked away.

“I’m going,” Hermione said to Harry. “It was good to see you, Harry.” She closed her book and started to leave the table.

“Hermione, wait!”

“What, Harry?”

The dark haired wizard also stood up. “P-Please, let’s talk a little more.”

She shook her head, but didn’t look angry or upset. “Ah, Harry...”

He ran a hand through his messy hair. “I never realized, or maybe I didn’t want to realize- to see it.”  He heaved a sigh. “I miss you. I miss my best friend, even if I hadn’t realized until now.”  He gave a dry laugh. “This sounds so cliché and even a little artificial.” He looked around, shoving his hands in the air. “Here I am, in a Muggle café, having sudden discoveries about the meaning of life.”  He shook his head. “I know life, my life, isn’t perfect, and maybe - maybe I lied about being happy.  Maybe I’ve been lying for a long time. I don’t know. I just know, now, that I’ve lost my best friend. I’m so -” 

 

“I once told you were a great wizard,” Hermione interrupted him. “I was right - you were and are a great wizard.  A great man, my best friend, but - I simply can’t hug you now and start to exchange confidences . . . say that everything is okay.” She closed her eyes painfully, and when she opened them again, Harry noticed they were tearing up. “I needed you. I needed a friend. I -” She stopped as the tears began to fall down her cheeks. 

 

Seeing her like this brought a strange taste to his gut. He felt suddenly dirty, small. With an uncertain movement, Harry leaned closer willing to take her into his arms, but Hermione’s pushed him away. She just stood there stiffly, tears running down her cheeks.

 Harry wished he could say that everything was going to be alright, that everything was fine.  But he knew it would be another lie.  

~*~*~*~        

Harry and Ginny Potter’s Residence

“You are late,” was the first thing he heard as he stepped inside his house.  Ginny was standing in the middle of their living room, her hands on her hips.  Ginny still was a beautiful woman, even if day after day she was more and more like her mother.  Yet, she was different from Molly Weasley, who had given up of being concerned about her physical appearance after her third pregnancy.  Ginny was always keeping a close watch about her looks.  Her nails would be always done, and her hair constantly shining.  She wasn’t afraid that Harry would think badly of her if her body had changed. She knew she had his heart.  He would love her even she gained two hundred pounds.  He was hers. 

 

However, there were the others - and herself.

There were always the expectations,  always the critics’ eyes on them, on her.  She was Harry Potter’s wife. She was the mother of Savior of the Wizarding world’s children.  She needed to be perfect.

“I’m sorry,” Harry replied with a tired smile, kissing her lightly on the forehead. Ginny hated when he did that. Kissing her on the forehead. It seemed so brotherly like.

 

“Something came up at work.” Harry didn’t know exactly why, but he didn’t feel like telling Ginny about his encounter with Hermione. It wasn’t like it had been a secret meeting with a lover, or something like that - and he knew (or at least, expected) that Ginny wouldn’t have a problem with the fact that he and Hermione had a coffee together.  Ginny leaned closer and wrapped her arms around his neck. 

 

“Caught some bad guy, my hero?” she asked.  

 “No,” he responded, shoving his hands into his coat’s pocket, “but I did take notice of some monsters.” 

Ginny stepped back, letting go of her husband. “Monsters?” she questioned, looking puzzled. “What kind of monster?”

 

The kind that makes my best friend to look so sad . . .

“I don’t know.” He sighed. “I just realized they exist today . . .”

“Are you alright, love?”

“Yeah, I’m just ti -” 

 

“DADDY!”  A small yet potent voice interrupted him.  With a smile, Harry turned around, opening his arms.

“Lily,” he greeted his daughter, “come here and give your old dad a huge hug, my princess!”  Giggling, the young Lily Potter ran towards her father, who rapidly took her into his arms.  Embracing her tightly against his body, Harry could just for a short moment forget about anything - and everything.  

 

“How was your day, princess?” he asked, breaking the embrace but still holding her arms.

“Good, Dad.”

Harry gave her a nod, before letting his green gaze wonder up and down her small figure. With a mischievous glint in his eyes, he turned to his wife, who was looking at them with a strange expression on her visage.  But he decided to dismiss it.  

 

“You know, Gin, I don’t think we should send Lily to Hogwarts next September.”

“Dad!”

“And why not, Mr. Potter?” Lily and Ginny asked at same time. 

“It’s that I just noticed how pretty my baby is, and I don’t think I want those Hogwarts’ boys flirting around my princess,” he said with a smirk. “Maybe we should just lock her in a tower, don’t you think?” 

“Daddy!”  Lily was blushing furiously.  Harry laughed.

“Maybe you are right, Harry,” Ginny commented. “After all, while her mother only received a bloody kiss on the forehead, she gained a hug - and a sincere smile.”  

Harry frowned at Ginny, the laugh dying on his throat. She looked back at him, her lips pursed in a thin line, but didn’t say anything else.  Harry took a deep breath, feeling suddenly uneasy.

 “I’ll take a shower, and then we can have dinner, okay?” he said to Lily, but his stare still was on Ginny’s.

 

And without really waiting for a reply, Harry went to his and Ginny’s bedroom.

~*~*~*~

The dark haired wizard grabbed some clean clothes before coming to bath when the bedroom door suddenly opened and a teary face Ginny Potter rushed towards him.

“Oh, hon, I’m so sorry!  So sorry!”  She wrapped her arms around him.  “I didn’t mean to say that!  It was uncalled for!” 

 

Harry released himself from Ginny’s grasp, and then looked pointedly at her.

“Yeah, it was uncalled for, but that’s okay.”  He wanted to smile, but he knew it would be forced.  He lowered his gaze at her lips and wondered when was the last time he did really want to kiss his wife.  He simply couldn’t remember.  But despite those strange thoughts, Harry did give Ginny a small peck on the lips. 

~*~*~*~

Ronald and Hermione Weasley’s Residence

Hermione sighed as she watched her husband and son having dinner. She wanted to tell Ron how her day had been, her new work project . . . but she knew it would be in vain.  He wouldn’t be interested.  He never was.

 

 “Uh, Ron, I’m working in this new project, you know? I’m very excited ab -”

“Er, Hermione, I know this is probably fantastic, but couldn’t we talk later?  Or maybe about something else?  I’m kinda tired now.”

 She could hardly remember the last time they had really talked.          

 “Hermione, pass me the potatoes.”

“Please is a good word, Ronald.”

Ron snorted. “Yeah, yeah, can you please pass me the potatoes?” 

Hermione passed him the potatoes. “You don’t need to snort, Ron.  I just think it’s nice to show your son some sort of politeness.” 

“For Merlin’s sake, Hermione!  I’m fucking tired.  Can you please not nag me, just for once?!”

Hermione narrowed her eyes. “I can’t -”  But then she was interrupted.

“No!” Eleven year-old Hugo Granger-Weasley cried, standing up.  “Stop it, please!  It’s always the same thing!  Why do you have to fight all the time?”  And with that, Hugo stormed out the room. 

“Hugo!” Hermione cried hopelessly.

“You know what?”  Ron’s voice brought her attention back to him.  “I’m done.”  He stood up.  “I’ll take a walk. Don’t need to wait up for me,” he said in monotone tone just before disapparating. 

Hermione pursed her lips, and looked at the empty seats.

Where did her ‘and they lived happily forever after’ have gone?