a/n: The Harry Potter universe is the property of Warner Bros. and JK Rowling. No copyright infringement is intended. T rating for mild language and adult situations. This is a post-Hogwarts world, with flash backs that are indicated by the dates. The months and years are based on conjecture from canon. This is my first attempt into the murky waters of H/H, although I've been a long time believer in their relationship. I do hope you enjoy!

November, 1997

Her hands were trembling as she fumbled with the buttons on his shirt; she was trembling so badly she could not manage to move the clear plastic button through the buttonhole.

"Do you need me to do it?" he asked kindly, amusement in his voice. She was being ridiculous, she knew that. There was no reason for her to be so nervous. He was her best friend, her most faithful companion, she trusted him with her life. She shouldn't be so worried about something so elementary as seeing his naked body.

"I don't know why I'm so nervous," she said with a small laugh, not looking him in the eye, trying to make light of the fact she could not perform such a rudimentary task of undoing buttons, stretching out her fingers in the hope they would cease their trembling. He took hold of one of her hands, such a strong and forceful grip, moving her hand to his chest. She could feel his heart beating, pumping rapidly, racing quickly like her own heart was doing.

"You're making me just as nervous," he said softly lifting up her chin with his free hand so that she could look into his eyes. He leaned in to kiss her lips, tenderly, softly, almost hesitantly to make sure that this was truly what she wanted. She did not know how they had gotten to such a place, how their relationship had developed into more than just friendship. Perhaps it was being thrown together in such dire circumstances, living in a tent in the stark landscape of the rural countryside, searching for unknown clues to finding and destroying parts of a man's tormented and fractured soul. Perhaps she had always felt this way, and it was only now that they were alone to explore their feelings more fully did she finally see that this was where she was meant to be, with him, here in his arms, kissing him with abandonment.

Their kiss became more intense, her body responding to his touch, her hands moving rapidly towards removing articles of clothing. Never had she felt her heart beat this quickly, hear the blood pumping hard through her veins, her breath releasing in shudders, her mind free from thought or repercussion. Her mind, her body, her very soul, were only able to think, to concentrate, to feel the sensation of his lips exploring her mouth, her neck, her collarbone. No longer were her fingers trembling as she undid the buttons of his shirt, no longer was she hesitant in giving into the most carnal demands of her body, no longer did she doubt her love for this man in front of her.

"Hermione…" he said breathlessly.

May, 2003

Hermione Granger woke with a start, breathing heavily as though she had been sprinting in her sleep. She had had "the dream" again. She quickly climbed out of bed, rushing into the bathroom to turn on the tap, splashing cold water on her face. It was a dream, a memory, nothing more, she thought, her hands bracing herself against the porcelain sink looking at herself in the mirror, water dripping down her face. It was only a memory, you're nervous for today that's all.

Her reflection startled her. She was ghostly pale; her brown eyes were wide with shock, her pupils still dilated with sleep and perhaps with something more. Her hair was damp with cool sweat, her unruly curls in every direction. She looked mad, insane, a deranged woman dreaming of a passionate night that had happened nearly six years ago. She had grown since then, her love for him had changed since then, he had changed since then. No longer were they the naïve teenagers whose hormones and emotions were out of their control, whom fate had brought together, alone, vulnerable, in need of a connection they both so desperately wanted.

She dried her face off with a towel, but without the cool water on her face, she found she was becoming more and more distressed. She shouldn't be thinking about him, not today of all days, and what they had done so long ago. Those feelings had been buried when Ron returned back to them and they could no longer share one another in the way they had become so accustomed to.

He is my best friend, and that was all, she reminded herself. We were kids; we had no idea what we were doing. She walked back into her bedroom, crowded with packing boxes and bags filled with her belongings. It had taken her quite some time to pack up her flat, taken her longer than she had expected to gather everything she had accumulated since the War was over.

The War. That blasted bloody war that destroyed so many innocent lives, destroyed so many hopes and dreams, destroyed her innocence and childhood. She was no longer a girl by the time she, Harry, and Ron had set out searching for Horcruxes, she was no longer free to be a teenager to gossip with friends, to fantasize about boys, to complain about her hair or lack of wardrobe. In reality, she was never one for such supercilious stereotypical girly things, never one to gossip or flirt or complain about the nonsensical. But she would have liked to. Would have liked for a change to worry about nothing more than if her shoes were suppose to match her handbag, or the color of her eye shadow. She was too mature, older than she was meant to be, had been made to age unnaturally. Mostly for the sake of the two boys she accompanied through six years of an extraordinary education, a magical learning not planned in a syllabus where she faced challenges, creatures and the supernatural, things not even a fully-grown witch may encounter in a lifetime. She knew she had to be the strong one, the level headed, the logical one who would be able to carry them through whatever dark and abnormal magic they would encounter. All the while she was reeling with her feelings, conflicted over what she thought she knew, what she felt, and the realities of her heart.

Maneuvering through brown packing boxes in her small London flat, she went into the kitchen to make some coffee. Looking over to the clock on the wall she saw they would be here at any moment. Pull yourself together, she thought, leveling off the appropriate amount of coffee grounds and water, switching on the machine. She had opted for living in a Muggle flat, with television and electricity and everything she remembered from home. She had wanted to escape magic for a while, to forget there was ever a magical war, to try and go back to a time before she knew about the Wizarding World or Voldemort or Harry Potter. She wanted to surround herself with the comforts of the ordinary, the mundane, the simple. Ron thought she was mad, thought every time he came over he was stepping into one of his father's fantasies with all the cords and wires and Muggle appliances he could dream of. But she would be leaving behind the comforts of home; she would no longer have the comforts of her friendly simple neighbors, her kind mailman delivering her post on foot, even her toaster. She would move into the home they had found together, near the Wizarding village of Ottery St. Catchpole, close to the Burrow, close to her new family.

Pouring herself a steaming cup of coffee, she gratefully sipped the black liquid needing the caffeine to wake her from her thoughts of passionate nights between two scared teenagers. She smiled in her cup, thinking over such naughty musings. But a knock on her front door woke her from anything of that nature.

"Hermione?" a woman's voice called out.

"In the kitchen, Ginny!" she called back. Wading through the sea of boxes, walked in her mother, Molly Weasley and Ginny.

"Hello, dear," Mrs. Weasley said happily coming over to give her a kiss on the cheek.

"Merlin's beard, Hermione, how did you ever get all this into this tiny little flat?" Ginny said, coming over to hug her as well.

"Undetectable extension charm," Hermione smiled. "Hello, mum."

"Hello, sweetheart," she said, giving her a warm hug, wearing a rather dazed expression. After the War, Hermione went to Australia to look for her parents. It had taken her the better part of three months to do so; almost giving up hope she would ever find them again to be back in time for the start of the new school term. But found them she did, settled into a nice enough town, with new friends and relations. However, the extent of her Memory Modification Charm had been great in the case they had been discovered and tortured for information. Reversing it had done some harm. They were able to remember their daughter, remember the parts of the life they had together, but they became prone to wandering, to have a slight dazed and confused look about them. Her father's damage had been worse than her mother's, and he was unable to return to his dentistry practice. Everyday they became a little better, and all the Healers at St. Mungo's believed in their recovery, but it was slow with some days worse than others. Hermione wondered at times if she had done them a disservice, returning them to their lives in England, able to remember her, but not completely the same. They had seemed happy in Australia, settled in their new lives. She sometimes wondered if she had been selfish to remove them from their new lives. But it was for days like these when she really needed her mother did Hermione reassure herself it had been the right thing to do.

"So are you ready? Not nervous are you?" Mrs. Weasley said, looking excited. She had not changed much since the first time Hermione had met her. She had perhaps a bit more grey hair, perhaps a few more wrinkles, and a deep, everlasting sadness from the death of her son, but she was still the same tender, nurturing, and at times overbearing woman she grew to love as much as her own mother. What Hermione loved most about Mrs. Weasley was that she took pleasure in being mother, in a way Hermione always admired. And now in being a grandmother, Hermione could not find a woman more suited to the vocation. When Bill and Fleur would bring Victoire, and now their newest addition, Dominique, over to the Burrow she delighted in seeing her granddaughters. Even five-year-old Teddy Lupin always had the most marvelous time when he was with Molly Weasley, whom he still would mistakenly would call Nana.

"No, not nervous," Hermione said, watching Ginny help herself to a cup of coffee.

"The two of you have been dating for so long, I feel this is going to be more a marriage of convenience now that the two of you will be living under one roof." Said Ginny, taking a sip of her coffee.

Hermione smiled at her future sister-in-law.

"It's only proper that they should be living separately until they are married." Mrs. Weasley said, giving her daughter an appraising look. "I was always against you and Harry living together before you'd married him."

"Mum," Ginny said rolling her eyes making Hermione grin. "You're so old fashioned. Most couples live together before their marry. Tonks and Lupin did."

"Yes, but they married so quickly after moving in with one another, there hardly could have been much impropriety between them. Besides, they were much older and wiser than you were."

"How is Teddy?" Hermione asked with the mention of her old professor and his wife. Their deaths were one of the reasons Hermione needed an escape from her old life, needed time away to grieve. When Harry was named the boy's godfather, and when the War was over and they were safe once more, he took up the role at once, making sure the boy was never in want of love or affection or toys and Hermione and Ron took the time to see the boy as much as they could.

"Spoiled rotten," Mrs. Weasley said grinning. She too was so taken with the beautiful boy, who so resembled his mother and the Black Family, yet was very distinctly his father's son with his thoughtful manner and proving himself a most accomplished wizard even at age five. However, he did have that Marauder streak of playfulness, a gleam in his eye Hermione had on occasion seen in Remus' eye, one that seemed to torment poor Andromeda Tonks, but brought delight to Harry who declared Hogwarts had better watch out for such a terror. Hermione knew Mrs. Weasley had looked on Tonks as a surrogate daughter. Hermione remembered her friend often, with her bright pink hair and her eccentric choice of clothing and taste in music, remembered Tonks confiding in her and Ginny saying how grateful she was she had Molly Wesaley in her life, as she and Lupin would have never survived their time apart without her tea and sympathy. After her death, Mrs. Weasley saw Teddy as her own grandson, look after him the days his grandmother Andromeda was working at hospital or Harry and Ginny were working at the Ministry or Quidditch. She delighted in watching all her grandchildren, loved watching them interact with each other, loved seeing how Teddy fit in with them all, not seeming to care he wasn't directly related to them. Though, Hermione remembered, they were all distantly related through his portion of the Black Family pureblood.

"Harry is practically about to adopt the boy, he's at our house more often than not." Ginny said, smiling affectionately at the thought of the five year old. "I'm surprised he hasn't taken to calling him 'son'."

"Harry is going to make a wonderful father someday," Mrs. Weasley said looking to her daughter as though waiting for the announcement of a grandchild. Ginny just rolled her eyes again, sipping her coffee. Ever since Ginny and Harry had been married a year ago, Mrs. Weasley had been pestering them about children at any chance the conversation would allow her. And now with Hermione to wed her youngest son, she would soon enough direct her attention towards the prospect of grandchildren from another source.

"Teddy is enough for us to be getting on with at the moment mum," Ginny said. "Besides, I have years left in my Quidditch career. I'm not about to give up my position with the Harpies just to satisfy your need for more grandchildren. I think you have enough to be getting on with now George and Angelina are married, and Fleur seems to be popping them out every two years."

"Hmm, we'll see about that," said Mrs. Weasley, a knowing gleam in her eyes.

"Time is ticking away!" Helene Granger said happily, pointing to her watch. Hermione always felt a bit of pity when her mother was invited to Wizarding events. As much as Molly Weasley was fond of Mrs. Granger and would include her in conversations, or take her under her wing, there was always a barrier between them, like they were speaking in an unknown language Helene would never be able to understand. Terms like Quidditch, or people like Teddy were still unknowns to her, no matter how many times Hermione explained them. It seemed her brain had been through enough damage that she simply refused to accept any new information.

"Your mother is quite right!" Mrs. Weasley said. "We should be getting to the hall soon. Hopefully Harry and Ron are up and on their way as well."

"We can only hope," Ginny muttered. "Harry had a bit of a rough day at the office. It's still so shambolic over there and he didn't get home until one in the morning."

Hermione could understand late nights at the Ministry. Since the fall of Voldemort, Kingsley had been working hard to make the Ministry of Magic an institution that was a pillar of strength, leadership and morality. He wanted to clean away all the shady dealings and characters, wanted to make sweeping reforms so that equality of inherent rights were given to all, not just the few. Hermione with her work for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures had spent many sleepless nights pushing for further reform, editing and reediting legislation in the hope of disbanding abusive practices towards non-humans and half-breeds. Her ultimate goals were set on tackling werewolf reform, mostly for Remus, but also for Teddy that he should never feel the sting of rejection for what his father was, but even she had to admit it was a long way off, especially with so many fighting her proposed reforms for house-elves and their working conditions.

"Well, we should head over soon," Hermione said, looking again to the clock on the wall.

"Come on, I'll help you pack up," Ginny said, taking Hermione under the arm and leading her back into her bedroom. There wasn't much to do; Hermione in her typical fashion of being prepared, had already packed her bag for the honeymoon, a separate bag of what she would need for the ceremony, her dress hanging neatly in a garment bag in the closet.

"Really Gin, there is nothing much to pack-"

Ginny shut the door firmly behind them before saying briskly, "Alright, spill."

"What?" Hermione said laughing a little. Ginny was standing by the closed door, arms folded over her chest, looking at Hermione as though she were hiding something important from her.

"You're much too calm, much too collected, even for you." Ginny said, scanning her friend as though to find she had been replaced in the night by emotionless android.

"Because I am," Hermione said, starting to pull the sheets off her bed, folding them into neat piles. "It's like you said, we've been dating for ages, and it doesn't feel like a huge step getting married."

"Hermione, Harry and I had been dating for nearly as long as you and Ron have. Yet I distinctly remember you having to hold back my hair on my wedding day so I could vomit, I was so nervous." Ginny said, walking over to the bed so Hermione could no longer pull away her sheets. "What's the matter? You can tell me, Hermione. I know he's my brother, but you're still my best friend. I won't be offended if that's what you think."

Hermione looked at her. Pretty little Ginny had grown so much since they had both graduated Hogwarts nearly four years ago. More than gaining maturity, she had come into her own, found her voice and her passion for Quidditch. She had been her best girl friend, had always been the one she could confide in on matters that were beyond the scope of two teenage boys. There were even things she couldn't talk to Harry about, and those matters went straight to Ginny. But how was she to tell her best friend, her maid of honor, that last night she had a dream about a time that seemed hundreds of years ago, a time when she had finally tapped into her sexual desire, a time when she and Harry Potter had been everything to each other.

April, 2002

Hermione knocked on the door. Her hands were trembling. Why did she always feel so nervous at times being alone with him? It was like she was a silly school girl again, not a grown woman of twenty-three.

"Hermione?" he called back to her, "is that you?"

"Yeah, it's me," Hermione called through the door steadying her voice. "I got your note."

The door opened. Hermione almost took a step back seeing him there, the rush from the quickly opened door taking his appearance quite by surprise.

"Oh thank Merlin you're here," he said, pulling her into the bedroom. "I can't seem to tie this and all the spells I know aren't working." Harry Potter was nervous. Really and truly nervous, worried about not being able to tie his silken cream bow tie correctly for his dress robes. Hermione wanted to laugh. She tapped the fabric at his neck once with her wand, making it twist and fold until it was perfectly sitting at the base of his throat.

"Thanks," he said, examining his appearance in the mirror.

"Harry Potter, nervous?" Hermione giggled. "The Chosen One, Defeater of the Dark Lord, Savior to Wizarding Kind, nervous?"

"Sod off, Hermione," Harry said playfully looking back at his best friend. But the way he examine her in her new dress, the way his eyes lingered over her body made any humor between disappear in a hazy cloud of confused longing and sexual tension. Feeling the lingering gaze of his eyes, Hermione's heart started fluttering rapidly, and she turned away blushing.

"W-was there anything else you need, shoe laces tied or any other simple spells you'd like me to perform?" she asked, hoping to continue with the pretense of humor, but the slight tremble in her voice gave her away.

"There was something yes," Harry said quietly, and the seriousness in his tone made Hermione turn around. "I know we agreed to tell them eventually, agreed that it would be better that it was out in the open, but I'm getting married Mione, and I don't-"

"It's alright, I understand. I mean, it was almost five years ago. There's no need to bring up the past where it's not needed." Hermione said, noticing the troubled nature of his startling green eyes, those eyes who only moments ago made Hermione forget Ron, forget Ginny, forget that fact that any moment now the Master of Ceremonies was going to call for them to take their places so the ceremony could begin.

"Do you ever think about that time?" Harry asked her, the unspoken question that always seemed between them finally out in the open.

"Harry-" Hermione said wearily.

"No really Hermione," Harry said earnestly, walking closer to her and Hermione was starting to feel the familiar sensation of the nervous butterflies in her stomach and the deep aching, longing, for him to come closer, close enough to touch her. "Do you ever think back to those nights when Ron had left and we were so blind in our search for Horcruxes, all alone in wild wildernesses, lost and confused. You know it really is amazing we're even alive right now thinking back to it all."

"Harry, it's pointless thinking back to it." She said sternly. It was a conversation she had in her head over and over when the War was over the Recovery began. "We both agreed that we were reckless, foolish to think that we would have lasted more than those months we had together."

"I know," Harry said, looking suddenly very stern and angry, "I shouldn't even be saying these things. I'm getting married today."

"You are," Hermione agreed helpfully, "to a woman who loves you very much Harry. You two belong with one another. Not with me." She concluded sadly. During her time in the search for her parents, on nights when she was alone in unfamiliar towns and with even more unfamiliar people she would think back to that time. How alive she had felt, had glorious it had been to be the center of his focused attention, to be the only thing those piercing green eyes saw. She thought about Ron, thought about how angry and depressed she had been without him those first few days after he left, remembered feeling even angrier still at his return with nothing but a friendly greeting. But also thought about the swell of emotions she felt for him after, thought about the guilt in sleeping with Harry, as though she had betrayed him.

"It could have been you, Mione," Harry said, brushing a curl away from her face. "It could have very easily been you..."

a/n: So with passions being denied, Hermione must decide whether she should follow her heart, or take the pre-determined road laid before her.

Ever since I began reading the Harry Potter series, I have always wanted Harry and Hermione to get together, but obviously, that never came to pass. Even watching the films I kept thinking, okay, now it's going to happen. So, I thought it would be interesting to find out what would happen that within the world of canon if they would find one another the way I would always wish for them to be. If you'd like to read more, please click the review button below!