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She thought she had given up that silly dream long time ago. That pestering, fleeting crush. But it was more than simply fleeting. It always was, ever since he was the first to find her to save her from the hands of a troll.
From that day onward she vowed to show loyalty to him. She never faltered. Never deterred. Only wanted to keep him safe, perhaps a quiet, simple debt back to him. But then eventually, he had to give her more than what was once bargained, and Harry would give her his soul if she were to ask him of it.
No one believed him that night when his name drifted up from the Cup. No one but her. First, only her. She’d read everything. Tried to find each loophole. And she helped him, helped him beyond his imagination. And he should have been more grateful. More appreciative.
She never was his, and he never was hers. It was meant to be simple. Easy. To ignore her feelings. The strong fire she felt when Harry was wronged. To push the desire to help him so. To touch him. Feel him alive. Breathing. Heartbroken, but breathing. He’d chosen Cho. He’d chosen Ginny. But so long as he was breathing and she was by his side, she didn’t care. Her feelings were deemed irrelevant in the world of war and the weight upon his being. Hermione Granger always learnt. And she was learning to be okay with that. Ron seemed to warm up to her, and maybe, she wouldn’t have her Mr. Darcy. Perhaps that was fine, because she’d convinced herself she didn’t need someone like that. Someone she hadn’t dreamt about being with.
Her heart knew of the lies her mind spoke.
Harry expected her to go with Ron. In fact he wanted her to. To leave. He deserved the solitary loneliness. This was his mission, alone. They never should have come. He only brought danger, and he couldn’t risk her in danger.
But at that moment when Ron had accused her of something that was so foreign to his own tongue, it settled into his bones. They never were subtle. With the touches. Fleeting moments. Each other’s comfort. She looked to him and she made her stand, as if to say ‘what did you think I’d choose to do? Abandon Harry?’
It was an idea that seemed like a putrid attempt at separation.
And now they were a pair, together. Alone. She never left his side. And maybe he was starting to wonder how and why had he gotten his own guardian angel, his protecter and most loyal friend. If she was the Sun, he’d be a happy asteroid to watch her from the stars, he’d burn in her embers if it meant to only understand one another.
What Harry didn’t know, was that he was her Earth, and she was his Moon. Protecting him through the impossible, keeping him safe. His constant star and everything magical stitched into one. The brilliance of her dedication and sheer will.
He felt like the word friend seemed distant now. She was more than that the night of Christmas when they visited his parent’s graves.
Emotionally intimate, so deeply woven into them, to the very fabric of their being and soul.
But then the unspoken one came back.
And things changed from then on.
Now he stood at the side of the altar, Ron Weasley in the middle of it all, face shiny and happy.
Harry Potter had tried to match his level of energy, but his magical core seemed to have dimmed considerably. He didn’t know why. He wanted to back away. Hide. Just run away from it all so he didn’t have to sit witness to the scene that was about to unravel everything in front of him. He felt like Harry underneath the stairs, in the cupboard again, trying to make one of his family members happy so he could get through the day.
It was too late to leave, as the song began, the flower girl’s descending, and he couldn’t take her eyes off her the moment she stepped out in her gown.
Hermione looked exquisite. He wanted to scream as she went towards Ron, not himself. He wanted to look away. His magic almost begging him not to.
His eyes returned to her and he gained some strength. He knew this dress wasn’t the one she wanted. Her hair was in a bun when it shouldn’t be. This was more modest. She had wanted to be free. To be free. And yet she didn’t know if she wanted to truly go through with this anymore.
Her core was at a pull. Hurt, her arm went to her mid section as she dropped the flowers, and hunched over slightly. Her eyes flickered to Harry, and he knew. He knew she felt the same pain as he did.
He was there right by her side, quicker than any groom could have been.
Hermione looked at Ron, a glassy look in her eyes, then she looked way and shook her head.
Harry got her out of there and into the Forest of Dean.
She removed her bun and ripped her sleeves, her magic wanting to be closer to Harry. He sensed her frustrations, and simply hugged her.
She broke into cries, sliding down as Harry kept her steady.
Time seemed to pass and then finally, she drew in a sharp breath, and turned to face his head.
“Maybe we should just stay here, Harry–”
“And grow old?” He finished for her. A smile broke out on her face.
And their magic was at peace again, it resonated with the wind, the trees, just as it always had been, as she finally had her Mr. Darcy, and he had his Solar.