Chapter Text
It happened too fast for anyone to fully realize what was occurring. Fortunately for Hermione, Harry had always possessed lightning-fast reflexes—he was the youngest Seeker of the century for a reason. May Godric bless his heart for what he did next.
He looked down at the pug-faced girl before him, his green eyes piercing into hers and sending shivers down her body as he firmly held her shoulder to keep her at bay. Harry James Potter was not in the mood to be messed with.
More so because the girl he loved was standing just a few feet away, blinking back tears at the sight of him with another witch. Harry knew he had to act quickly to reassure everyone—especially Hermione—exactly who he belonged to.
“Ms. Parkinson, as I have explained to you before, I have absolutely no desire to ever court you,” Harry said, his voice carrying across the room. “Just because your father drew up a ridiculous contract while I was mourning the loss of my godfather does not mean I am going to follow through with it.”
Pansy narrowed her eyes at the green-eyed, bespectacled man. Her jaw clenched after all she hadn’t accounted for him making such a public fuss. She scoffed at his words, which only irritated Harry further. Shoving her away slightly, he strode past Pansy directly over to where Hermione stood.
Hermione looked stunned as he took hold of her. His hands grasped her shoulders, and he captured her lips like a man possessed. It was a claim, a public declaration showing everyone exactly who she belonged to. He deeply regretted not making their relationship public sooner out of respect for Ron's feelings, and because he remembered the horrific hate mail she had received in their fourth year—especially the envelope filled with Bubotuber pus that had scarred her hands.
He wanted to protect her. He hadn't wanted to jeopardize his friendships with Ron or Ginny, but at this moment, he ignored the rising murmurs around them. He ignored the furious glares coming from Ron, and Ginny and the annoyed expression of Pansy. He didn't care about anyone else. All that mattered was Hermione. His Hermione.
The usually reserved Hermione took no offense to his sudden forwardness. In truth, she had wanted this for a long time, but had kept quiet out of fear that Harry didn’t share her intensity. Her heart pounded against her chest as her arms wrapped around him, hungrily returning the kiss. She blocked out the crowd. All she focused on was Harry. Her Harry.
She chose to ignore the onlookers, particularly Ron Weasley, who just moments before Harry’s outburst had been shoving his tongue down Daphne Greengrass’s throat. Hermione had a strong feeling Ron was only using Daphne the exact same way he had used Lavender Brown.
When they finally broke apart, the room erupted into a mix of cheers and stunned silence. Pansy, Ron, and Ginny stood with flushed, angry faces. Out of the corner of his eye, Harry caught a smirk from Draco Malfoy, who had his arm possessively around Tracey Davis.
Turning back to the three furious individuals, Harry cleared his throat, having no intention of letting them speak until he had finished his piece. “Hermione and I have been seeing each other for the past year and a half,” Harry announced. The revelation stunned the room. Ginny and Ron looked visibly sickened.
“We didn't tell anyone because the war had just ended, and we wanted to settle into a new normalcy,” Harry continued, tightening his grip on Hermione. “And after what happened during our fourth year, I refused to put Hermione in harm's way again.” His gaze locked onto Ginny and Pansy. Pansy remained annoyed, but Ginny faltered, looking away at the reminder of that year.
Harry held Hermione closer. It wasn't just possessiveness anymore, it was pure protection. He was acting as a shield for her from this moment forward. Seeing how Pansy and Ginny reacted told him everything he needed to know. Someone had sent that Bubotuber pus years ago, and looking at Ginny's guilt-ridden expression—and remembering how close she had been to Neville and accessing the greenhouses at the time—the pieces finally clicked into place.
The fire in Harry's eyes ignited genuine fear in Ginny. She knew she had been caught, but Harry didn't relent. “Without Hermione, I more than likely would not be standing here today,” Harry said loudly. “And neither would most of the people in this room. She has helped me from the very beginning, ever since the night we fought off a troll in the girls' bathroom trying to save her.”
Ron’s jaw clenched at the memory. “You didn’t even want to save her that day, Ron despite the fact you were the reason she was there in the 1st place,” Harry persisted, “but you came anyway, so I’ll give you credit for that. But without her, we wouldn’t have made it past the Devil’s Snare under the trapdoor. We wouldn’t have figured out Snape’s potion riddle. I would have ended up with a broken neck during my first Quidditch match if she hadn’t set Snape’s robes on fire.”
Gasps echoed through the Gryffindor common room. Ron’s face turned a deep, dangerous shade of purple, while Hermione blushed deeply at the praise.
“It was thanks to her that your sister survived our second year,” Harry pressed on, his voice ringing clear. “Because if Hermione hadn’t researched the pipes, I never would have pieced together what the monster was, and Ginny would be dead.” Both Ginny and Ron went entirely pale, the grim reality of the past washing over them. Ginny stared at the floor, unable to meet anyone's eyes.
“If Hermione had died in that bathroom, she never would have bought Crookshanks,” Harry added, his voice dropping to a dangerous, low register. “And you, Ron, would have kept right on sleeping soundly all while Peter Pettigrew pretended to be your pet rat. He probably would have killed me, or found an easier way to deliver me to Voldemort.”
Harry squared his shoulders, looking down at Ron. He saw the subtle shift from shame to anger in Ron's posture—a temper he had witnessed many times before. Ron was a good friend most of the time, but his jealousy often outshined his loyalty.
“You are my oldest friend, Ron. But we were a trio, and she was the brains of the operation. We nearly got ourselves killed using your dad's flying car the one time we were left alone because we were idiots. Hermione always looked out for us, and I feel horrible for how I treated her throughout the years. The whole Firebolt incident in third year? That was just her trying to protect me. She warned us about the dangers, and we froze her out.” Ron attempted to cut him off, but Harry talked right over him.
“She always looked out for us out of pure care. She cared enough to follow me down that trapdoor. She followed me headfirst into the Whomping Willow to face Sirius when we thought he was a murderer. And yes, Ron, you tried to protect us even on a broken leg, and I’ll never forget that. But there were times I really needed you, and you walked away. Hermione never did. And she still defended you to me, because she knew how much your friendship meant to me.”
Ron looked away entirely, staring at the floor. “Hermione stuck by me when everyone—including you—turned their backs on me during the Triwizard Tournament,” Harry said. “She taught me how to survive. Accio might not be a fancy spell, but it saved me from a dragon.”
Harry felt Hermione stiffen against him. He pressed her closer, placing a soft kiss on the side of her head before continuing.
“After Cedric died, I had been isolated. I know Dumbledore told you both not to write to me, and looking back, I understand it was for everyone's safety. And me snapping only made it so that Hermione pushed herself to step up and therefore the D.A. was formed during our fifth year. Without that, I don't think many of us in this room would have survived the war.”
An unsettling silence fell over the room as the weight of his words sank in. Many of the students who had been in the DA looked toward the couple with newfound gravity.
“And as much as I assumed Hermione was just jealous over me beating her at Potions in sixth year, she was right. It wasn't my own skill, but because of that damn book.” Harry purposely avoided naming the Snape, noting how Draco stiffened nearby. “As much as I liked the success it gave me, that book was dangerous. I almost killed Draco with it. And if I had, we wouldn't have survived Malfoy Manor, and Hermione would be dead because I said his name in frustration.” Draco and Ron both paled at the mention of the manor.
“We wouldn’t have figured out that we needed the sword. We wouldn’t have even survived living in that tent if Hermione hadn’t prepared, packed, and organized everything we needed for the hunt. Ron, you said it yourself back then—we’d be lost without her. And yet it was you who left us for three and a half months.” The words hit Ron like a physical blow. He recoiled, remembering his abandonment.
“Yes, you came back,” Harry said softly, though the edge in his voice remained. “But you left when we needed you most. I understand why you did it, but it didn't take away the hurt. Hermione stayed. And since then, she has become the center of my world. I regret not standing up for her against you in our third year. I regret not protecting her when you talked down to her at the Yule Ball just because you were too late to realize what a brilliant person she was. And I regret defending you when you used Lavender just to hurt her over a kiss that happened years prior.”
Hermione inhaled sharply, turning her furious gaze onto Ron. “A kiss that happened two years prior? That’s what you used to justify hurting me, Ronald? And you used Lavender like a tool because of it?” She sneered, thoroughly repulsed. “I really never thought you would stoop so low. Over a damn kiss.”
“Listen to me, Ronald Weasley,” Hermione continued, her voice trembling with anger. “I did have feelings for you once. But the moment you choose to be with Lavender, those feelings died. The way you treated her was deplorable. It opened my eyes to the type of person you truly are. Like Harry said, I still defended you because I hoped that even if you were a terrible romantic partner, you were at least a loyal friend to Harry. I had hope for you.”
She turned her glare toward Ginny. “And Ron, why on earth did you keep pushing Harry onto Ginny when she was in a relationship with Dean? And Ginny—when I suggested you date other people to get over your obsession with Harry, I never imagined you would use Dean, Harry's roommate, just to make Harry jealous. Because the way you threw him away when Harry showed a shred of interest towards you was foul.”
Dean Thomas shifted uncomfortably in the crowd, looking between the Weasley siblings. He had a feeling his relationship with the red head ended because of her unresolved feelings over Harry which was confirmed when she had kissed Harry barely two weeks after their breakup. He hated being made a fool. And right now he was the fool once more. He had actually given her a chance when she came onto him despite his own budding feelings for Luna that had begun to flourish. He looked over towards Ginny.
Ginny’s face flushed a deep scarlet. Seeing her reaction, Dean scoffed, turned on his heel, and walked out of the common room. Ginny made a move to follow him, but Seamus and Neville stood in her way, blocking her path. Instead, it was Luna who quietly slipped out of the room to follow Dean.
Ginny gulped, her shame quickly morphing into a defensive anger as she turned back to Harry and Hermione. “So what? You two get together and rehash the past like you’re doing something grand?” Ginny spat, her true colors finally showing. “Like the bloody heroes you still pretend to be? News flash. The war is over. You can quit ruining everyone else's lives now.”
Hermione flinched, but Harry stepped forward. “Pansy,” he called out, ignoring Ginny entirely. “Was it your idea to try and force a kiss on me earlier, or was it theirs? Because I already told you I wasn't interested, and you didn't exactly look like you wanted to be there either.”
Pansy was caught entirely off guard. In truth, she had no desire to pursue Harry, knowing he loved someone else. But when Draco had announced his relationship with Tracey Davis, Pansy’s parents had panicked and forced the old betrothal contract forward. She had only pursued Harry out of desperation.
When Harry had flatly rejected her, she had been ready to give up—until Ginny Weasley had cornered her, insidiously whispering that Hermione was just a "plain, ordinary girl" who didn't deserve him. Ginny had manipulated Pansy's pride to get her to knock Hermione down a peg.
Pansy’s eyes widened as she turned to face the youngest Weasley. “You knew I had given up on him,” Pansy said, her voice rising in realization. “And yet you kept pushing the idea that Potter was meant for me, complaining about how unfair it was that Hermione got everything.”
Hermione looked at Ginny, a deep, painful heartbreak breaking through her anger. To Hermione, Ginny had been a sister. “Ginny... how could you?” Unable to face the judgment of the entire room, Ginny turned and fled up the stairs to the girls' dormitories. Hermione began to tremble, and Harry immediately wrapped his arms around her, holding her tightly.
“I knew Ginny had feelings for you, Harry,” Hermione whispered into his chest, “but I honestly thought she had moved past it. I never thought she would be so malicious.”
Ron swallowed hard. Daphne Greengrass still clung to his arm. Her own betrothal contract to Theodore Nott had been nullified when Theo left the country years ago, leaving a void in her life that Ron Weasley had comfortably filled.
Clearing her throat, Daphne spoke up. “I don't know about all of this, Granger. As much as I am grateful for what you and Potter did during the war, I love Ron, and he loves me. His past doesn't reflect his future, and he chose me.” With a firm grip, she began to lead Ron toward the portrait hole.
Before he was dragged out, Ron cleared his throat and looked back at his old friends. “I am sorry,” he said, his voice surprisingly quiet and devoid of the explosion Harry had expected. “For everything I did. I'm with Daphne now because I love her. I know I wasn't always a good friend. I just... I hope you both are happy.”
Harry and Hermione watched him leave, stunned by his sudden maturity.
Pansy Parkinson pressed her lips into a tight line and stepped forward. “I owe you an apology as well, Granger. Potter. Truly. Being raised the way we were... it’s hard to unlearn. But seeing true evil during the war changed things. I want to be a better person. I’m sorry for letting Weaslette get into my head, and I’m sorry for trying to ruin what you two have.”
She offered a tentative, hopeful look. Hermione’s shoulders sagged. The hurt ran deep, but she recognized genuine remorse when she saw it.
“I can't forgive everything right away, Pansy,” Hermione said honestly. “Especially not what happened during the day of the battle. But... I would like to try and build something better moving forward.”
Pansy offered a small smile, nodding in appreciation before turning to head up to her own dorms. Slowly, the tension in the common room dissolved, and the remaining partygoers went back to their conversations. Tracey with Draco and Luna Lovegood wrapped in Dean's arms. And Neville had noticeably disappeared from the party.
Later that evening, Harry and Hermione found themselves standing alone on the astronomy balcony, overlooking the dark, glassy surface of the Black Lake. Hermione sighed happily, leaning her back against Harry’s chest as his arms securely wrapped around her waist.
He leaned down, whispering into her ear, “What are you thinking about, mine?”
The nickname sent a pleasant shiver down her spine. “You know... when I walked into the common room earlier and saw Pansy leaning into you, I was terrified,” she admitted softly. “I thought she was going to take you away. That you’d realize you preferred a pureblood witch over... well, over plain old muggleborn like me.”
Harry immediately turned her around to face him. He gently pulled her hands away from her face, forcing her to look at him.
“Hermione, you are not plain,” he said fiercely, his fingers brushing against her cheeks. “You are brilliant, beautiful, and more than I could ever ask for. You are not just a muggleborn. You are a witch. My witch. I choose you because I love you. The real you. You stood by my side through every nightmare life threw at us. I always assumed you knew how much I worshipped you, so I didn't say it enough. But I will remind you every single day for the rest of our lives.”
Hermione went quiet, a familiar shadow crossing her face. Harry felt a sudden pang of anxiety. "What's wrong, love?"
“You still love me... even though I lost our baby?” Hermione choked out, tears finally spilling over.
Harry vigorously shook his head, his own eyes burning. “That was my fault, Hermione. Not yours. I was so frustrated with the horcrux hunt. With Ron coming back. With not being able to hold you in my arms. Not being able to make love to you., so angry at everything, and I let my temper get the better of me. Saying his name, triggering the Taboo... that's what brought the Snatchers down on us. It’s my fault we ended up at Malfoy Manor. My fault you were tortured. I hear your screams in my nightmares every night. Seeing you in a pool of your own blood. Of our baby's blood. It was never, ever your fault.” He leaned down, kissing her deeply, tasting the salt of her tears. Hermione trembled in his embrace, holding onto him tightly before pulling back just an inch.
“Harry... I have some news.” Harry froze, a small spark of anxiety hitting his chest. Hermione, her face still tear-streaked, pulled a small, charmed parchment from her cloak—a medical diagnostic spell.
Harry’s breath hitched as he read the glowing pink runes. Tears welled in his eyes. “You’re pregnant?”
Hermione nodded, a bright smile breaking through her tears. “We’re starting our family, Harry.”
Harry let out a wet, breathless laugh, capturing her lips again and holding her so close it felt as though they were a single person. “So... that means the contract is officially broken?” he asked enthusiastically against her mouth.
“Yes,” Hermione laughed. “The betrothal contract with Pansy requires the Lord Potter to be unencumbered by a prior family lineage. Carrying a continuation of the Potter line voids it completely. As said in the fine print. The same goes for her if she had gotten pregnant by another. I assume it was her mothers doing.”
Harry smiled, resting his forehead against hers. “I am so lucky I came straight to you when I found out about that contract.”
“Yes, you are,” Hermione teased gently. “Because if you had let Pansy kiss you, the magic might have locked in, and I probably would have left Britain entirely to start over abroad. Raising our kids alone or with someone else.”
Harry grimaced at the horrifying thought. “And I would have been stuck in a loveless marriage. I'm glad I wasn't an idiot. I love you, Hermione. Always.”
“And I love you too, Harry. Always.”