Harry and Hermione

            “Oh Ron, what should I do?” Harry asked. Harry Potter, the fifteen year old orphan with tousled black hair, shockingly green eyes, and the lightning bolt scar on his forehead, was sitting by Ron Weasley, Harry’s best friend with vivid red hair and freckles, in the kitchen of the Burrow. The Dursleys had let him stay with Ron for the summer. The two boys had been discussing what had been going through Harry’s head recently: Hermione.

            Harry couldn’t stop thinking about her. He wanted to tell her, but he didn’t know how. So, Harry and Ron were discussing the situation.

            “Just tell her. She’ll be here in a few days. She’s coming straight here from Bulgaria.”

            “Oh. Right, she went to visit Krum.” Viktor Krum was one of Harry’s opponents in the Triwizard Tournament. He was also the Seeker of the Bulgarian Quidditch team. “How do I tell her though? She seems pretty close to Krum.”

            Suddenly, they heard Hermione’s voice coming closer.

            “She’s early. She sounds angry, too,” Ron said.

            Hermione Granger, Harry’s other best friend, with bushy brown hair, came into the kitchen. She looked extremely angry.

            “I hate him! I just hate him!” she yelled.

            “Who do you hate, Hermione?” Ron asked.

            “Viktor Krum! Do you know what he did?”

            “Er…No,” Harry said cautiously.

            “He dumped me! When he found out that I was Muggle born, he dumped me!” she said furiously.

            “Really?” Ron said with a smirk. “Harry wants to tell you something.”

            “What? No, I don’t,” Harry lied.

            Hermione was looking curiously between the two of them.

            “What are you two hiding from me?”

            “Harry likes…” Ron started before Harry kicked him under the table. “Maybe now’s not the time.”

            “Who does Harry like?” Hermione asked Ron.

            “Er…Harry, do you think we should tell her?”

            “I don’t know. Maybe. You can tell her.”

 “Alright, Hermione, do you want to know what we’re hiding?” Ron asked. When she nodded, he continued, “Well, Harry likes you. He just didn’t know how to tell you.”

            “Oh,” she replied, a little note of surprise in her voice.

            “So,” Harry said, speaking for the first time in minutes, “what do you think, Hermione?”

            “Er…Can I think about this for a little while?”

            “Yeah, take as much time as you need.” At that, Hermione walked out of the kitchen. A few moments later, Harry and Ron heard Ginny scream, “NO!” she sounded very devastated. Ron’s youngest and only sister had a crush on Harry. It was obvious that Hermione had told Ginny.

            “Oh, Harry,” Ron said cautiously, “don’t try to talk to Ginny right now. From the sound of it, she might do something that she’ll regret later.”

            “I’ll do my best to avoid her.”

            Over the next few days, whenever the boys saw Hermione, she was deep in thought. Finally, a week before break ended, she revealed her answer.

            “Harry,” she began, “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking and I’ve decided that I’d like to be your girlfriend.”

            “Really?” said Harry happily. That was all he could say.

            So, Harry and Hermione began going out. Whenever anyone saw them in the halls, they were always holding hands. They were the cutest couple in Hogwarts. All the Slytherins hated them, but that was natural.

            As their last few school years went by, the bond between them grew stronger. On the last Hogsmeade weekend before graduation, Harry managed to get away from Hermione for a while. With Ron by his side, Harry went to the jewelry store.

            “Do you think she’d like that one, Ron?” Harry asked, pointing to a very beautiful diamond engagement ring.

            “She’d love it.”

            So Harry bought the ring. But he was very secretive about it. For the last week of school, Harry didn’t tell Hermione about the ring.

            When graduation day came, Harry decided to propose. He took Hermione off to a corner of the common room where no one would bother them.

            He got down on one knee, pulled out the ring and said, “Hermione, will you marry me?”

            She screamed so loud, but through the screaming, he distinctly heard the word yes. By now, the entire common room was looking at the two of them. When they figured out what was happening, a mass “Aww” went around the room.

            They got married shortly after graduation. It was a small ceremony. It only included her family and their friends. Hermione looked beautiful and she had made her hair sleek again.

            The next three or four months were uneventful. On their four month anniversary, Hermione said two words to Harry, “I’m pregnant.” After those words were said, Harry insisted on waiting on her hand and foot.

            Eight months later, Hermione gave birth to a little girl. The two had decided early on not to tell their child about Harry’s past until he or she was eleven.

            When their daughter, Abigail, turned eleven, she got her invitation to Hogwarts. They sent an owl back right away. Then, they told her the story.

            “Abigail, come have a seat,” Hermione said. “We have a story to tell you.”

            “Oh boy! A story! What’s it about?”

            “It’s about a little boy named Harry Potter,” Harry said.

            “You?” Abigail said in awe.

            “Yes, me,” Harry said.

            “Cool.”

            “You’ve known you were going to be a witch since you were young, but I found out when I was eleven.”

            “Were you Muggle born, daddy?”

            “No, I was born to a witch and wizard. That’s kind of where the story begins. Your uncle Sirius is actually my godfather. He was my parents’ best friend. He told me much of this.

            “Long ago, long before you were born, there was a dark wizard by the name of Voldemort,” Harry said. A shiver went down Hermione’s spine as Harry said the name. Harry took note of this, but continued the story. “Voldemort had been gaining strength long before I was born. He came to my house a year after I was born. He killed my father first, then, he killed my mother. My mother died to save me. After he killed her, he turned his wand on me. He tried to kill me, but the curse rebounded onto him. He didn’t die because he wasn’t a real mortal.”

            Hermione was crying by now. Harry took note of this too and kept going, “I was taken to my aunt and uncle’s house. They were Muggles and they hated magic. I was used as a kind of servant. I was ignored for eleven years. Then, Hagrid came. I had been getting letters in the mail, but my magic hating uncle wouldn’t let me read them. So Hagrid, the groundskeeper at Hogwarts, came to take me to Diagon Alley. I was in shock at the fact that I was a wizard.

            “I didn’t understand how everybody knew my name. Then, Hagrid told me about Voldemort. I was famous. I got on the Hogwarts Express and gained a best friend, Ron Weasley, who was later killed by Death Eaters as they tried to find their master. I also met your mother on the train. But I didn’t like her at first. But then, Ron and I saved her life.” Harry paused to comfort Hermione, who was now crying freely. He could tell that she missed Ron as much as he did.

            When she was slightly calmer, he went on, “It was a shock that everybody in the school knew my name. I gained enemies. They were all in the Slytherin house. I got on the Gryffindor House Quidditch team. I was the youngest player in a century. Through all of my years, I kept having close calls with Voldemort. He was out to get me. But he’s dead now.”

            “Why did you tell me this?”

            “You needed to know about the Potter name.”

            “Oh.”

            “Now go play. I have to comfort your mother,” he said to Abigail, “Hermione, come here.” She leaned on his shoulder and started sobbing. As Abigail left, Harry said, “It’s ok. We’ll always have the memory of him. As long as we remember him, he won’t really be gone.”

~~~

A/N: This is probably not going to happen. It’s my take on what might happen. It’s a pretty good story. :: looks vain :: Alright, alright, so it’s up to you. :: rolls eyes ::