May 1998 #3
FOURTEEN
MAY 1998 #3
Harry tipped the vial of silvery liquid into the pensieve and took a trembling breath as he reached forward. He remembered this day, but Hermione had avoided him for the majority.
The memory sucked him in and spit him back out in a Hogwarts dormitory. Looking around it wasn’t Gryffindor tower; from the color scheme he assumed Hufflepuff. Hermione stood next to a single bed, her eyes red and puffy. For the most part she looked the same. She had put on some weight since their time in the tent but nothing drastic.
She stood staring at her reflection in a broken, dusty body length mirror. Harry watched, his arms crossed tightly over his chest as his fists clenched, she was wearing a cotton night shirt and a pair of soft sleep pants. The sun was just barely over the horizon. The group of them would soon converge in the great hall and begin moving the dead for their burials.
He watched as she studied herself, before angling to the side, lifting her shirt and placing her hands on her stomach. Harry let out a soft gasp as his heart fluttered and ached, tears burning his eyes. Just under her fingertips was a slight swell, a barely noticeable bump. In most of her clothing, one would hardly be able to tell anything was different. He moved forward, stepping as closely as he could to her memory, crouching down and aching to reach out and touch her belly where their daughter grew. He felt the tears that spilled over but didn’t bother to wipe them. “I’m so sorry little one.” She whispered hoarsely. Her voice startling him. She stared down at her growing belly, her hands fluttering over her skin and tears rolling down her cheeks. “You deserve so much better than me.” Harry looked up, taking in her face. There was still a cut across her cheek from the day before. “Your daddy…he would have adored you.” The words made Harry’s anger flare. He would have. He would have been so proud.
Hermione closed her eyes, more tears streaming down her face. “But I did this for your daddy. I know you don’t understand, and you may never understand, but your daddy gave so much of himself to everyone. He deserves to be happy. Ginny…deserves to be happy. I won’t say you were a mistake, Mummy will never say that, but daddy didn’t love me.” Harry’s mouth dropped open. It was like she was saying the words, desperate to believe them herself. How could she have believed she was so unlovable? Hermione pulled her shirt back down, covering the swell and hiding it from view. “We were the best of friends and…Mummy was scared little one. So scared that this, us…we would destroy that. Daddy lost so much; I refused to take away one more thing from him.” Harry stood up, his mind whirling. She was trying to salvage their friendship, but by doing so, so took away the very things she said she wouldn’t.
The memory twisted, blurred until a new scene formed. It was later that afternoon. Present Harry could see his memory self standing up on the podium, Professor McGonagall by his side. “We lost so many good lives to this war. From this day forward, we will continue on, knowing that our loved ones did not die in vain. We will be eternally grateful for their sacrifice and will honor their legacy by living each day fully, loving without hesitation and moving forward with a sense of positivity.” Harry followed as Hemione stepped back from the crowd, his own voice drifting as she left. He remembered this, once his speech was finished, the dedications made, and the congratulations passed along, Harry had stepped down, fulling intending to love without hesitation but instead finding Hermione long gone.
The memory spun, spitting him out back in his office. Harry stared at the remaining vials. He needed to walk, to get away from the memories for just a while.
Harry stepped out on the front porch before apparating away. It didn’t surprise him when he opened his eyes just outside the gates of Hogwarts.
He knocked on her door. He wasn’t sure why he ended up here, just that he needed to get answers. Hermione opened the door, her face flush with surprise. “Harry?” She stepped aside, allowing him to come in.
Harry stilled, what was he doing? Anger rolled off him in waves. His eyes scanned the room, assuring they were alone before he spoke. “How could you?” He asked. His voice dangerously low. “Harry…” He turned, facing her as his hands trembled at his sides. “I thought that by watching your memory, seeing it from your perspective would give me some clarity. Some closure, fuck…some understanding.” He threw his hands up in the air causing her to flinch. She remained quiet, unsure of what to say. “All its done, is make me angrier.” Hermione’s lips parted and her eyes filled with tears. “I meant what I said in the tent.” He started, the anger leeching from his tone, replaced with a deep sadness. “I wanted to give you that future. I had for a long time Hermione. Since that first day on the train.” Her lips parted with a soft gasp. Harry turned, looking at her, his anger seemingly burnt out. “I don’t know where to go from here Hermione. I don’t know how to feel. Seeing these things…seeing what I missed. It’s not fair.” Hermione stepped forward, her hand hovering just over his arm. “Please,” He whispered. He sounded so broken, “Don’t touch me. I’m not sure I can handle that right now.” Hermione nodded, backing up a step and holding her hands clasped behind her back. “I would like to take Rosalee out tomorrow afternoon. I want to start getting to know my daughter.”
He didn’t wait for a reply. He couldn’t, he was close to breaking, and he wanted to do that alone.