Harry Potter Oneshots

eighty two-harry/hermione

ship: harry/Hermione

prompt: "heroes are never happy"

category(?): fluffish??

warning/tags: guitar playing!Harry, talk of heroes, vivid eye description, historical figure talk, hermione is a lawyer but it's not explicitly stated, famous people, harry calls her Herm

notes: in my mind, they're twenty three-ish and been married for two years.

words: 466

We had been sitting near each other quietly — I reading and Harry was plucking that stupid guitar of his. I didn't hate it, but it was annoying when I was trying to study my cases.

I was about to ask him to stop, when he suddenly took hold of my hand.

  "What is it, Harry?"
His eyes were excited, lit up. The way they had been after we freed Sirius. The way they always were after winning a game of Quidditch.  The way they had been at our wedding, just before the 'I do'.

  "Hermione, how many heroes do you know that were happy? You can't name one can you?" His voice held a challenge to it. He was daring me to contradict him.

I considered the challenge.

How many heroes were happy?

Heracles, famous for his strength, was driven mad, and killed his own children;

Tycho Brahe, a famous Danish astronomer, forced a dwarf to dress as a jester and sit under the table during meals;

Justin II was a sixth century Bryzantine emperor who, legend says, ate two of his servants, because he heard voices;

And finally, Empedocles, a greek scientist and philosopher from the fourth century B.C. He believed he was a god, and leapt into an active volcano.

None of them could have been happy.

Hermione looked back up at Harry and shook her head. "Not any heroes I know of."

He nodded, now on his knees. "Exactly. No hero is ever happy."

  "Harry, what's the point of this?"

  "They never let you be famous and happy, Herm." He leaned close to my face and whispered, "Want me to tell you a secret?"

I nodded. "What's your secret, Harry?"

  "I'm going to be the first one."
  "Will you?"
  "Yeah, you wanna know why?" He was so close I could see the different shades of green in his eyes, the little lines and dots, every single one of his eyelashes.

I nodded again. "Tell me why, Harry."

  "You."
  "Pardon?"
He grinned, and I noticed several of his bottom teeth were crooked. I wonder why he'd never had braces. Perhaps Dad could fit him some?

  "You're gonna be the reason, okay, Hermione? I'm gonna be famous and happy because of you. Will you swear it?"

I had no idea how I was supposed to swear to make him happy, but I did. How could I ever not? "I swear it."

He linked our pinkies together. "I swear it."

We sat for a minute, our pinkies linked, and he sat back, grinning still. "I've gotta tell you, Herm. I feel like I could take on the world. Voldemort himself could rise from the dead and come in that door, and I would still be grinning."

  "Let's not jinx it, shall we?"
  "You're right. I've had enough trouble for a lifetime."
  "Harry, you're an Auror. That's the only profession you can beg for trouble in."
  "True."