About Harry

Hermione

The day passes pleasantly, I welcome all the small attentions and kindness he pours over me, I let him spoil me and I feel really loved in a way.

I stop to reflect on how bizarre the procedure on which character is formed. How is it possible that a person that has not received love for all his childhood and very little while a teenager, a person mistreated by people and destiny, can develop a loving personality. How that happened?

Sometimes I wonder if a different person could have defeated Voldemort. I believe not. Having a pure heart was essential to defeat evil.

I wonder if Dumbledore had placed him to the Dursley with a scheme, maybe Harry has so much to give just because he never received any. Perhaps Dumbledore had done it on purpose to develop this trait in his character (because, let's be honest, I'm sure that giving in a bit of thought a better solution could have been found). Well, I sincerely hope not. I don't want to have to harbour rancour against Dumbledore. I know I should see the whole thing in a different prospective. It's one life against the hundreds that would have suffered if Voldemort wouldn't have been defeated, but still, I cannot. It seems a bit hard in his regard. Like if his life was somehow less important.

Anyway, I spent a very nice day on the whole and I think he did too. Only two things created me some disquiet.

In the afternoon he brought me some strawberries accompanying them with the affirmation that they are my favourites, which is not true and while we were talking and laughing about some silliness just before going to bed, he almost kissed me. On the lips I mean. He has never done it up to now. Not even once, not by mistake. I was about to auto combust from the inside with anticipation but as soon as he realised what he was about to do, faltered and seemed very afraid for a moment. He forced a smile and caressed me, but plunged in a complete silence, turned back from me going to sleep.

Should I grow afraid? Should I mention it to Ted?

____________________

The next day I'm still a bit sore in my muscles but nothing so debilitating. Harry is quite caring and seems to go above and beyond to please me.

I wonder if Ginny felt her luck in having such husband. I'm sure she did, despite she was often complaining about his messiness and carelessness. I anyway feel mine. Only during my pregnancies Ron, carried away by happiness, treated me in the same way. And I ask myself why he wasn't affectionate to me all the time. With the kids he has always been very loving. He has never been stingy of kisses and hugs. Why then it wasn't the same in my regards?

We were so happy when we finally got together. I was so taken. After years at Hogwarts wishing for each other and never acknowledging it, this desire growing steadily and increasingly with every year, every month, every day, every minute spent together. It reached its zenith in that kiss the night of the Hogwarts battle (because I made a move, otherwise we could have waited forever).

I just wanted him so much. I had already experienced making love and at that age, once you start, there is not stopping it. You have that desire burning under your skin all the time.

Then the battle raged, and Fred died. Ron was devastated, the whole family was devastated, George was distraught, shocked. It was such a calamity in a family as united as theirs.

Harry needed to recover, tired beyond belief. Everybody was gathered in the Hufflepuff dormitory, we hid as far away as possible from them. They wouldn't leave Harry alone and he needed to sleep. Me and Ron offered to guard his rest. The Gryffindor dormitory had been damaged but not destroyed. Their room was still intact.

Harry, exhausted, nodded off as soon as he touched the bed but we, although as exhausted as him, couldn't doze. We were laying in Ron's bed, and we were too close to feel the tiredness, our desire too heightened. Years of waiting and all of sudden we couldn't wait a second longer and with the only precaution of letting the four posters bed's curtain down, we made love there for the first time, only a few feet from Harry sleeping. Probably it hasn't been so nice of us but we were so delirious by the victory and so happy to be alive. We were so in love.

Ron didn't realise it wasn't the first time for me. Perhaps he never had a doubt about it, perhaps he was a bit naïve or perhaps only too excited, tired, grieving, and euphoric all together to notice. I don't know, but it worked perfectly for me. I would have named Krum as the man if pinned down. I'm sure Ron would have been furious, but anyway better than the truth.

When he found out years later, he went berserk. Scary really but not surprisingly. Ron, for all his life, felt second in importance in pretty much anything, and he just couldn't bear that even with me he had been second after Harry. Poor man. He has always been second with me after Harry.

Today, the weather being acceptable, we had a walk in Cornwall. It was very soothing and relaxing. We walked hand in hand, sometimes in silence observing the lovely scenery, sometimes chatting.

He talked as if we were going to spend together our whole life somewhere else other than England, I obviously thought he was in jest. However, I grew uneasy when I asked in the same playful tone, 'What about the kids?'

And he answered a bit too seriously 'What kids?'

I didn't know what to say but, thankfully, after a moment, seeing my expression, he wavered and added 'Ah yeah, the kids... They will come with us of course'

I decided to believe he was still in jest.