Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

Finally – Part 2

"Finally?" That was all I could say? Hermione thought to herself. She had been in love with Harry for more than three years, and just when he was finally ready to tell her that he felt the same way, the best response she could muster was "Finally!" Why couldn't she have just said, "And I love you too, Harry,"? Was it really all that difficult?

Hermione had been mentally kicking herself for the better part of an hour for being such an idiot. This was the only real blight on what should have been an otherwise perfect morning. She had just gotten everything she had been wanting, and BAM! she ruined it by saying nothing more than "Finally!"

To be fair, she had not exactly been in her right mind at the time. Harry's little story had done a real number on her psyche. At first, when he said, "…I've been seeing this woman," a wave of panic quickly spread through her body. In an instant, she hysterically wondered if she had missed some sign or had totally misread Harry's feelings, but then, when she realized that he was talking about her, and not that leggy blonde from Wizard Resources who always had her eyes on him, the panic disappeared, replaced by a warm feeling that started growing and growing until it exploded into a raging inferno when he said "Hermione, I love you." After that, Hermione wanted nothing more than to kiss Harry, kiss him again, and then take him completely and wholly.

She became a woman possessed, losing all focus and allowing something deep and primal within her to surge forth and command all of her actions. After he had said those wonderful words to her, Hermione kissed Harry fiercely before leaping into his arms and wrapping her legs around his body. She continued barraging his lips with a flurry of passionate kisses, keeping a tight hold of him while he kept a firm grasp of her. Then, Harry sort of fought back, if you could really call it that. It was more that he took over control of the situation, ready to show her that he was just as invested in this as she was. The things he did to her…never had he given her such pleasure before. Harry was so passionate, so unbridled, so liberated—that was the right for it. Harry was liberated—freed from all of the things that had held him back in the past. He was finally free to give himself over to her completely—heart, soul, mind and body—every fiber of his being. Harry gave it all to her at that moment, right there on the kitchen table.

Hermione felt her face go flush at the memory of this; not because she was embarrassed by what they had done or where that had done it, but because how euphoric making love to Harry on the kitchen table had truly been. The irony of it all did not escape her. No one, not even Hermione herself, would have ever thought that she, the girl who almost always played by the rules, who did everything letter perfect, would misuse a simple thing like kitchen table in such a way! But she felt that there was absolutely nothing wrong with it. There really were no alternatives at the time. Going all the way upstairs to the bedroom, or even to the sofa in the living room, was clearly going to be quite impossible. The kitchen table happened to be right there and conveniently the correct height for their purposes. In the heat of the moment it was a great place. In all honesty, Hermione didn't really put all that much thought into it at the time. It was the place where Harry had set her down, where he untied the belt of her robe, and where she returned the favor by helping him out of his traveling cloak and then his pants. Perhaps they might one day get another chance to misuse the kitchen table in the same way again.

Eventually, they made their way back to the bedroom, where the love making continued, and a truly wonderful thing seemed to happen: time seemed to slow down to crawl. Each moment, every touch, every intense spasm of pleasure, all of them were given an unusual sense of sense of clarity and focus. This made their love making all the more gratifying. Neither of them wanted it to come to an end. No on in their right mind would ever wish that something like that would ever come to an end, but sadly, as all good things must do, the passion was slowly brought to a close. She couldn't really blame Harry for falling asleep. He had gotten up very early this morning, sometime before six, and after their late evening the night before, it was a wonder that he even had the energy to go for as long as they had. So she was not angry or disappointed that he fell asleep with his head on her shoulder. In fact, it was especially nice to see that he appeared to be sleeping peacefully for once. She hoped that it was a good a sign; a sign that his reoccurring dream might actually be gone for good.

Although he never once spoke of it or even mentioned it to her, Hermione was quite well aware of the dream that invaded Harry's sleeping mind. He woke her up at least three nights per week when he murmured Ron's and Ginny's names in his sleep, and Hermione had this pesky little feeling that he had this dream far more often than she, or even Harry himself were aware. From the pain and torture in his voice she felt reasonably certain that he was re-living the night that they died. It was difficult for her to see him going through this, but no matter how desperately she wanted to talk to Harry, to comfort him and help him bring an end to this damned dream, Hermione never uttered a single word to him about it.

The dream was just one symptom of a much bigger problem that Harry had been going through, and that source of this problem all really boiled down to an issue of loyalty. Normally, Hermione would have called Harry's loyalty to those he cared about to be one of his greatest strengths. It had served him well in the past, but it was this same loyalty that had only served to tear Harry up on the inside. It had pulled him in opposite directions; one side to Ron and Ginny and the part of him that was not yet ready to let them go; and the other side towards Hermione and the part of him that was ready to move on and be happy again. In many ways, it was his relationship with Hermione and all that it had blossomed into that was both the source and the salvation for all of Harry's pain and suffering. It brought him feelings of hope and happiness which, in turn, only made him feel as though he was committing an act of betrayal.

Hermione understood what was going on inside of Harry's head. She had been through the same sort of emotional tug of war too and experienced the same sorts of confusion that Harry was having. There was always that certain feeling that she was being unfaithful to Ron which had nearly torn her up as much as it was doing the same to Harry. As for Ginny, it was true that she was not as close to her as Harry had been to Ron, but Hermione always thought of Ginny as a true and real friend. She would never have made any sort of move for Harry if Ginny were still alive just as Harry would not have if Ron were. A real friend would never do that.

Hermione's difficulties began on the morning after their big mistake when Hermione's problems began. She had not really been in love with Harry that night. Sure, she loved Harry in a plutonic almost sisterly kind of way, but she never thought of him in that way. Certainly, there had been things about him that always appealed to her. He could easily have been the one that she preferred out of her two male friends. Harry definitely had all of the things any woman could want. He was intelligent, handsome, courageous, considerate, compassionate, and in terms of compatibility, he certainly had more in common with Hermione than Ron did. It was just that Hermione always looked at Ron in the romantic way. But when she woke up that morning, Hermione suddenly found herself thinking about Harry in that very same way she had looked at Ron and also wondering why she hadn't seen Harry that way before. She ran from Harry's house confused and scared at what was going through her mind.

This was when the real conflict began brewing within Hermione. On one side there was the part of her that was beginning to see Harry as the source of her happiness in the future, a man she now realized she could easily fall in love with. The other side was the side that was screaming "How dare she even consider falling in love with Ron's best friend!...Ron's brother!" It wasn't long before the conflict broke out into a full-blown war with each side of her conscience struggling to gain control of the whole her mind. The two sides went back and forth for a long time. When it seemed like one side was overpowering the other and about to win the war, the other side would suddenly re-emerge and force its way back into the fight.

Gradually with time, the side of her that was falling in love with Harry slowly began to win out. Hermione finally brought the war to an end when she came to the conclusion that Ron would have wanted nothing more than for her to be happy, and that if it wasn't him who helping to make her happy, then it might as well be Harry. She also had to believe that Ginny would at least want Harry to have that same kind of happiness too.

Hermione understood that it could not be as simple of an issue for Harry. It was considerably harder for him because he had a lot more to deal with than she did. Ron had been Harry's first real friend. That friendship had become so close that Ron's entire family thought of Harry as a brother or a son. All of them, that is, except for Ginny. She and Harry had been well and truly in love with each other, and they were fortunate to have time to be in love together, something that Hermione never got to have with Ron. No doubt Harry had dreamt of a future with Ginny that involved marriage, kids, and everything else in between and beyond. It would be hard for any person, even someone as strong as Harry was, to get over something like that. Throw in the deaths of his parents, his godfather, Remus, and Tonks, it was amazing that Harry was as well-adjusted as he was and not some blubbering mass of goop.

So it was necessary for Hermione to wait for Harry, until he was ready to allow himself to be healed. But waiting wasn't always an easy thing. She'd had to do the same with Ron, which was infuriating at times because he just would not grow up! And when everything finally did fall into place for them, it was suddenly taken away. The problem with waiting on Harry was that he was an Auror, and although he excelled in his vocation, it wasn't exactly the safest profession in the world. Like it or not, Harry was human and not indestructible. Losing him was what really scared her the most. It would be even worse to lose him before they even had a chance to be really and truly together. It was a good thing that she never knew ahead of time when Harry was going out on a raid. Otherwise she would have been useless with worry.

Hermione worried about that possible day when she would be told that something had happened to Harry. It would be Arthur that would tell her. Something in her gut told her that it would have to be him. Molly wouldn't be able to do it, and Arthur always had a fatherly demeanor towards her that would make him be the one to bring her the awful news. He would walk into the room with a vacant but somehow grim expression on his face, and Hermione would know the awful truth before he could even tell it to her.

Most people would probably have told Hermione that she should have talked to Harry and told him what she was feeling for him, but she thought better of that idea. Doing something like that would have been disastrous. This was the sort of truth that Harry could never hear coming from her lips. The fact of the matter was what had allowed their relationship to come as far as it had was that Harry held on to the belief that they were still nothing more than just friends. It may have just been his way of rationalizing everything, but it was this rationalization that kept his emotional tug of war in some sort of balance and from overwhelming him entirely. If Hermione had expressed her feelings directly to him, this balance would be thrown out of whack. Harry would more than likely flip out, tell her that he didn't feel the same, and break things off entirely. When faced with that kind of probability, Hermione thought it best if she kept her mouth shut altogether and continue to let Harry live in his delusional little world until he was ready to come out of it.

As hard as it was, Hermione resigned herself to the fact that she would have to wait, but there did come a point, very early on, long before she started spending the night with Harry and back when they were just friends who seemed to be growing closer and closer by the day, that she had to know if what she had started to feel for him was something that he might be feeling for her too. Even if he wasn't fully aware of it, she had to know if there was something there. The opportunity presented itself near Christmas time at the Minister's Gala. Hermione had it all planned out. She purchased tight-fitting and somewhat uncomfortable red dress robes. She would use them to entice Harry, to get him to really look at her in ways that she was unaware he already was. Then the unthinkable happened: Harry didn't ask her to go with him. She always thought that he would, but she had not figured on his extreme dislike of gossip preventing him from doing so. She couldn't really blame him for that one. Hermione well-remembered the stares and the hushed words when people saw them or just when they saw her. Nor could she Fred and George's well aimed jokes at their expense.

When Harry did not ask her to accompany him to the Gala, Hermione scrambled and found Justin Finch-Fletchley, who was quite keen attend the event. Making Harry jealous was never really Hermione's intention. All she had wanted to do was to get him to notice her. Then this part of her plan seemed to fall apart too when Harry ignored almost the entire night. Hermione was incensed, partly because she thought her plan was bombing entirely, but mostly because Harry's behavior towards her was atrocious. They were supposed to be best friends. She could not understand how he could just completely ignore her like that. So, at the end of the evening, she bid Justin good night and then waited for Harry, just to give him a piece of her mind, only to discover that Harry was not ignoring her because he was an ass. He was ignoring her out of jealousy. Not only had Hermione made him jealous, but he had noticed her, noticed how wonderful she looked in them, and how alluring she was to him. Her plan had worked even better than Hermione could have imagined.

Going to bed with Harry that night was not exactly one of her intentions either. It was really more of a very nice, very pleasant Christmas bonus. Of course, what would happen the next morning could make or break all of her efforts. Hermione had to be careful about how she proceeded. She couldn't just come out and tell him that she loved him. She needed to be sure of how Harry felt about what had happened, if he was ready to be in love with her or not. From their conversation, it was easy to tell he wasn't ready for it yet. So, Hermione went along with his idea that they could still be friends. There were rules, some of them agreed upon and some of them they just gave an unspoken acceptance of.

Hermione was willing to put up with these rules, the sneaking around, not being able to tell anyone, and the pretending as though nothing was really all that different. She was willing to put up with all of this because even if Harry wasn't ready to be in love with her yet, she knew that he was. He didn't have to say it for her to know. She could tell just by the way he held her in his arms, the way he sniffed her hair (which he really seemed to enjoy doing), the way that he kissed her and just the look in his eyes whenever they were together. That was all that really mattered. It may not have been ideal but if Harry had never got any better or reached the point where he could say those words to her, Hermione wasn't ever going to leave him. So long as they remained together, she could accept never having exactly the kind of relationship she wanted from him.

Thankfully, she was not going to have to settle for a half-way love affair. As she lay in bed with Harry, lightly stroking his head as she listening his slow and steady breathing, Hermione was still staggered by the fact that he was hers now and she was his, openly and honestly. She had Dumbledore to thank for all of this. If Hermione had not been able to tell Harry the truth, there was someone who could; someone to whom Harry would listen. And that was Albus Dumbledore's portrait.

After a while, things really began to settle into a steady thing. Hermione was spending most of her nights with Harry, and generally speaking, she was happy. Harry, however, was making some progress but not nearly enough. It was all clear to Hermione how he felt. It was more that he was stalled, not willing to go any further to acknowledge those feelings. Hermione began to doubt whether or not her strategy of not confronting Harry was the right course of action. At the same time, she could never bring herself to out and out tell him as she was afraid of what his reaction would be. On the day that she was asked by the Head of her department, to give the presentation about working in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, Hermione saw the opportunity that a trip to Hogwarts could hold for her. The prospect of it excited her, and immediately, she began forming her plan.

She arrived at the school, had tea with Hagrid, and then gave her presentation, ignoring the impatience she was feeling, wishing the clock would move faster. When that was finally done with, Hermione cautiously approached Professor McGonagall with the request to speak to Dumbledore's Portrait. She wasn't entirely sure if she would be allowed to speak to the portrait. The portraits in the Headmistress's Office were there to lend advice and counsel to the sitting Headmaster or Headmistress, not to do so for the students…or former students.

Professor McGonagall, fortunately, did not think it an unreasonable request, especially for someone with Hermione's stature, and Professor Dumbledore seemed only too happy to speak with Hermione. She went into the meeting really only hoping to get a few words of advice from Professor Dumbledore. Apart from herself, no one else knew Harry better than Dumbledore. He would be able to tell her what to do or what to say to get Harry to comer around.

Dumbledore's Portrait greeted her with a warm smile and his usual gracious courtesy. They spoke for a few moments about her work at the Ministry and the difficulties she was having in getting her House Elf Rights Bill to even be considered for legislation. He offered her a few words of advice on dealing with the politics within the Ministry before finally bringing their meeting to heart of the matter. With a deep breath, Hermione began speaking, talking for several minutes, and telling Dumbledore pretty much every thing that had gone on between her and Harry. She left out a few of the more intimate details, of course, but she also did not hide the fact that most of her nights were spent staying with Harry. Dumbledore sat patiently, listening to everything she told him, not betraying a single hint of surprise or shock at the revelations Hermione was imparting to him. If she had not known any better, Hermione would have thought that he had already known the truth long before this day.

As she told her story, Hermione felt as though a great weight was being lifted from her shoulders. Considering that these were things that she had been holding in for so long, hiding them from everyone else, the simple thing of just telling someone, even if it was a portrait, was a great relief.

When everything was finally said, Dumbledore agreed with her that Harry did indeed need to be allowed to come to terms with all of this on his own. However, this did not mean that Harry did need some help along the way either. Harry's life was stuck on the wrong pathway. It was a path that led to comfort and relief, but there was a danger that if he continued down this trail, Harry would only become more and more complacent in his belief that he and Hermione were still nothing more than friends. The longer he stayed on this road, the more difficult it would be to get him off of it. What Harry needed was for someone divert him to the correct path by telling him in no uncertain terms, the cold hard truth about his life, and since she was just as much a part of this as Harry, that truth would need to come from someone other than Hermione. Dumbledore gladly volunteered to assume that task.

Dumbledore warned her that what would happen after he spoke with Harry would not be entirely pleasant for either Harry or Hermione. In the worst case, their conversation would end in a complete failure, and Harry would break it all off with Hermione completely, just as he would do if she were the one to talk to him. On the other hand, if it did work, Hermione could expect a noticeable change in Harry's behavior towards her. He would most likely become distant and perhaps even cold towards her for a while. This would be Harry's way of first trying to prove that the truth was actually false. Once the reality began setting in, Harry would need some time to sort this new truth out for himself. As uncomfortable as it would make her feel, Hermione could not take this personally; she could not allow herself to become frightened by Harry's attitude towards her. She would need to patient, understanding, and above all silent with Harry. It might be a week, or a month, or even a year, but when he was ready, Harry would come to her, ready and willing to accept that he was in love with her.

Fortunately, it was the latter of the two possibilities that played out. The really bad part, the part where Harry all but ignored Hermione completely, was relatively short, lasting only for about a week. After that, things started to become progressively better. Harry started to open up more and became even more affectionate towards her. Still, there were some days when Harry would be just un-talkative and remote, staring off for long periods of time at nothing in particular. Hermione knew what he was thinking about when he got this way. It was difficult for her to not say anything to him, to not help him through this, but Hermione did exactly what Dumbledore suggested that she do. She pretended that nothing was wrong, trusting that Dumbledore was correct in the assumption that this was a decision Harry would have to come to on his own.

And now, Harry had made his decision. Some day, Hermione would come clean with Harry and tell him everything. She could or would not keep this from him. Harry would need to know everything including the most important thing of all: that she loved him enough that she would never have left him.

At some point Hermione must have finally fallen asleep because the next thing she knew her eyes were opening. She lay on her side and felt Harry's body pressing close against her while his arm snaked up from behind and around her torso, gently holding her close to him. What woke Hermione up was the sudden thought that she and Harry were supposed to be doing something that afternoon. It took her a few moments to clear her head enough to remember that her parents had invited them over for dinner. Her eyes quickly looked up to the display screen on the clock next to the bed. It read five minutes past one in the afternoon. They were supposed to be there in just under an hour.

Her first thought was to cancel on her mum and dad. The idea of doing anything other spending the entire afternoon lying in bed with Harry was simply ludicrous. However, Hermione thought that it would not be a good idea to call off the dinner. She had cancelled dinner on them last week already. Doing it again didn't seem like a good idea. She lay in bed a few moments longer trying to savor these last few moments in Harry's arms for as long as she possibly could, but eventually, she had to get up and get ready.

She carefully extricated herself from Harry's arm and slipped out of the bed, doing her best not to wake him. She would have preferred Harry to go with her, but he was so tired, she decided that it would be better to let him get some sleep. She would make up some excuse for her parents. Her father would be very disappointed. He absolutely loved Harry and hearing all of his stories about his work, which he found to be interesting and exciting.

Hermione's mother was a slightly different story. She liked Harry well enough and was glad that he made her daughter happy. It was more that her mother was ready to become a grandmother, and she was growing rather impatient with the amount of time it was taking Harry to marry her daughter. Hermione had explained all of the reasons to her mother a countless number of times, but this no longer was having any effect whatsoever. It was getting to the point that her mother was starting to drop some not-so-subtle hints that her daughter might want to look elsewhere for a husband, an entirely preposterous suggestion. It annoyed Hermione to hear this from her mother and angered her even more when her father seemed to ignore what his wife was saying, but there was little she could do short of telling her mother to shut it and mind her own business, something Hermione could never quite bring herself to do with her own mother. At least now she had some good ammunition to fire back when her mother let loose on her this afternoon, which seemed like distinct possibility.

She debated taking another shower, but there really wasn't time for that. So, she headed to the wardrobe to pick to get dressed. The weather was cold enough that she decided to wear the lovely cashmere turtleneck that Harry gave her last Christmas. After dressing, she headed to the bathroom to brush out her hair, put on some makeup, and dab a little perfume behind her ears. There was a time when Hermione would not have gone to this much trouble just for dinner with her parents, but after five years of working at the Ministry and doing her best to look nice and professional, it was sort of a habit to leave the house looking nice.

Something else that had become a kind of habit for her was the use of a chalky white liquid contained in a small vial that Hermione kept in one of the drawers next to the bathroom sink. The liquid was a potion that she brewed herself from common ingredients. This potion was specifically meant for women to prevent a certain accidental or unintended thing from happening. Specifically, it prevented her from getting pregnant. In a more desperate time, Hermione once considered going off of it entirely, with the thought that if she were to conceive, Harry would have to commit to her. There was no question that he would do the right thing. In the end, Hermione could never bring herself to take that route. She could never force or manipulate Harry in that way.

Now, as she looked at the small vial containing the chalky-white potion, Hermione wondered if there was still a need to continue using the potion at all. Presumably, she and Harry were fully headed towards getting married and having a family now. Then again, they had really only taken one step in that direction. There were so many more things in between now and that future, namely that they had to come clean to Molly, Arthur, and all the rest of Weasley family. For now, the future was something they would discuss sometime later.

Hermione opened the vial and put it to her lips and took a small swig into her mouth, wincing as she swallowed it down. It was a nasty flavored liquid that she guessed was somewhere between earwax and rancid orange juice. Fortunately, only a small amount of the potion was needed and a glass of water helped to dispel most of the after taste from her mouth. There was a charm that she could have used. It was certainly faster and easier than brewing a potion, but the charm also usually left her feeling nauseous for several hours afterwards. A foul tasting potion was much more preferred than that.

Before leaving, she took one final look at Harry as he slept, wishing nothing more than to be snuggled up next to the man she could now fully call her lover—or boyfriend. Either term worked, although she preferred boyfriend. Lover wasn't really a bad term. It just seemed to have a slightly impermanent meaning, as though this thing was only temporary. After leaving a short note on top of her pillow explaining why she wasn't there when he would wake up, Hermione leaned over and kissed Harry on the cheek, walked downstairs, put her coat on and headed out the door. The weather outside had not improved in the slightest. It was still unusually cold and the wind had picked up only adding to the chill in the air. The sky had also now turned grey with clouds. The weather report from one of the local radio stations was calling for snow flurries starting late this evening. Thankfully, with apparating, the trip to her mum and dad's house took only a scant five minutes.

As expected, her father was very disappointed that Harry would not be there while her mother was slightly indifferent about the whole matter. Dinner turned out to be rather interesting. Her parents had also invited a dentist friend and his wife to dinner. Their presence really kept Hermione on her toes to keep her Muggle cover story straight. Like most Muggle-born witches and wizards, Hermione had to create a story to hide her real life in the magical world from the Muggle part of her existence. Keeping the main part of her story straight was not the hard part. Hermione had gone over it a dozen times or so. Telling them what it was like for her when she was at university, every day details about what she did at her job, and all the other meaningless anecdotes that people always seemed to be the most interested in were the real difficulty. She weathered that storm pretty well intact.

The dinner itself was alright, not the best meal she had ever eaten, but between Molly and Kreacher's excellent cooking, Hermione had sort of become spoiled by having really good food most of the time. The hard part was paying attention to the various conversations at the dinner table. Her parents and their friends often got involved with conversation about dentistry, a subject that hardly interested Hermione. During these moments, she found her thoughts often kept drifting back to Harry and how much she really wanted to get out of here as soon was possible. She could not believe how much she missed being with him now, even though it had only been a few hours since she left him. Was it going to be this way from now on? Was this what it really felt like to be in truly, deeply, and openly in love? she wondered to herself.

Her parents' friends finally left around seven that evening. They had lingered around far too long in Hermione's estimation. Then the dishes still had to be done and the kitchen cleaned. More than ever, Hermione wished that her parents would allow her to use magic to do everything. It would have taken her less than ten minutes to do it all that way, but her parents always preferred doing things by the more conventional, non-magical means. Hermione pitched in knowing that it was the only thing she could do.

They set to work in their usual places, her mother washing the dishes, Hermione drying them, and her father sitting in front of the television.

They had only been working on the dishes for a few minutes when the doorbell rang. From the other room, Hermione could hear her father grumble "Who could that be?" as he went to the door, but with the running water Hermione really could not hear who the mysterious visitor could be. But something made her stop. A sudden eerie feeling began sweeping through her, a feeling that told something was very wrong.

Hermione found herself slowly walking out of the kitchen and into the hallway. Her father came around the corner and following close behind was someone she did not wish to see now. It was Arthur. It was the look on Arthur's face that stopped Hermione cold. His face was pal and his eyes were bloodshot and almost vacant. It was the same look he had had when he learned that Ginny and Ron were dead, and in her mind, she had pictured Arthur a hundred times standing in front of her with this same look.

And Hermione knew right then and there. Her heart started racing, her legs got shaky. "No…no, no, no…not Harry. Please not Harry," Hermione begged to Arthur, hoping and praying that he would tell her what she already knew was true. But Arthur could not say anything. He just closed his eyes and nodded.

Somewhere in the distance, Hermione felt the vague sensation of the dinner plate she had been holding slipping from her grip and crashing to the floor. Then it was all gone. She couldn't feel anything. She couldn't feel her body slump the ground and heave with her uncontrollable sobs. All she could feel now was pain.

Harry was dead…