Its funny how life unravels, piece by piece, as if it’s determined to show us just how much we thought we understood but never really did.
I wish I could say I came through the war unscathed, that I somehow moved on, but that would be a lie. Time has a way of bending things, softening the edges of memories, yet the scars stay. Each one, a reminder. I’d always believed, in the depths of it, that we were on the side of right.
Some days, I wonder if Dumbledore would even recognize me. Not just physically; age has its way of carving lines where laughter should be, leaving a man staring at his own reflection, barely recalling the hopeful boy he once was.
No, it’s something deeper.
It’s the choices I’ve made – or avoided making – and the pieces of myself I’ve lost in doing so. The man who taught me that “we must all face the choice between what is right and what is easy” would never have chosen this life for me.
Yet, here I am.
When I was younger, I believed in happy endings. Dumbledore was always there to point me toward the right path, reminding me, urging me, that the easy way is rarely the right way. But I never thought I’d end up questioning everything—my marriage, my life, and myself—all because of a single choice. Ginny’s incredible—she really is. Strong, fierce, so alive in a way that keeps me grounded. We have children together, a life, a future. And yet, I find myself drawn somewhere else…someone else...
I remember the first years after the war, how eager I was to build a life.
When the war ended, I thought the hardest part was over. I’d seen too much death, too much pain, and I convinced myself that settling down with Ginny, starting a family, would be the answer. I thought it was what I wanted, what I was supposed to want. I’d imagined it would be peaceful, easy, and maybe, in the beginning, it was.
I threw myself into my work as an Auror, trying to find some sort of purpose. I had this fire to keep fighting, keep making a difference, but that flame began to flicker out with each passing year. Instead of burning with passion, it turned into something hollow, something routine. The same old, same old. Missions, paperwork, the occasional night of patrols… but I’d come home, and the ache would still be there, gnawing at me like a wound that wouldn’t heal.
Ginny and I had a good life, don’t get me wrong. She’s a brilliant mother. Our children — James, Albus, Lily — they’re everything I’d hoped they’d be. Watching them grow, laughing at their small moments, feeling their arms around me… they are my world. But somewhere along the way, I realized that being a father didn’t fill the hole inside of me, didn’t ease the weight pressing down on my chest.
The truth — the truth that I’ve never dared to speak aloud, not even to myself — is that I love someone else. I love her in a way that scares me, a way that’s consumed me for years now
Hermione.
I have always liked that name . But admitting it out loud feels like crossing some forbidden line. She's… everything. She always has been. When the dust settled after the war, and we went our separate ways, I thought the feelings would fade. I thought I’d get over her — Merlin knows I tried. But life has a way of twisting the knife, doesn’t it?
Hermione married Ron, of course. I was the best man at their wedding. I put on a brave face, smiled, and told myself it was for the best. They were always a pair, right from the start. It was like watching a piece of my soul walk away, but I told myself it was what she wanted, that she was happy.
Ginny doesn’t know. Or maybe she does. In the quiet moments, I catch her looking at me, as if she’s searching for something that was never really hers to find. I suppose she knew from the start that some things between us would remain unspoken. But she isn’t one to dwell on things she can’t change. She’s always been stronger than I am that way.
Hermione, though. She’s the one I can’t get out of my head. It didn’t start as anything obvious – just a lingering feeling, an urge to hear her voice. And after the war, she was always there, steady and reliable as the sunrise.
There were mornings I found myself gravitating towards her, my day inexplicably brighter after we talked. She and Ron got married a little after us, had kids around the same time. Their family felt like a mirror to my own.
I don’t know when admiration turned into something else, something I’d never dare say out loud. It’s funny how that works, isn’t it? You think you’re over it, you think you’ve buried all those feelings under a lifetime of duty and responsibility, and then she smiles in that quiet, knowing way, and you’re back at sixteen, staring at her across the Gryffindor common room.
There’s always this warmth to her, a kindness she never grew out of. And that’s the thing about Hermione; she never lost her way. She still remembers every spell, every hex, every lesson Dumbledore taught us, as if his voice was still echoing in her mind.
”We humans do have a knack of choosing precisely those things that are worst for us.” Dumbledore’s words echo through my mind more often than I’d like.
There was this night, a couple of years back. Ron had just been promoted at the Ministry, and Hermione wanted to celebrate. Ginny couldn’t make it – one of the kids was sick, and she told me to go on without her. “Go and have fun, Harry,” she’d said with a smile, but I caught that glint in her eyes that told me she understood more than she’d ever admit.
The night was uneventful, drinks flowing in that familiar haze. And then, when the crowd thinned, it was just Hermione and me. She’d stayed, saying she wanted a quiet moment away from the noise.
We sat there in silence for a while, and then she laughed. “Do you ever think about how much simpler it would’ve been if we’d never gone on that Horcrux hunt?”
I chuckled, but it was hollow. “Simple, maybe. But life is not always simple and easy like now"
She paused, and that smile faded, leaving a look I’ll never forget. “Hmmm...Do you ever feel like you chose the easy path, Harry?”
I didn’t answer. I think she saw the answer in my eyes. For the first time, the truth lay bare between us – that unspoken “what if” hovering in the air, unacknowledged for years.
I’d taken the easy path, the one that everyone expected. I’d married the girl who had been my light, my joy, but never my peace. And Hermione had done the same—stayed loyal to Ron, the man who’d been there for her when I couldn’t be.
Her eyes searched mine, soft, understanding. I don’t know if she wanted me to say something more or if she was just as scared of what might come out. But I leaned back, breaking the moment, and she looked away. We sat in silence for a few more minutes before she stood up to leave.
As she turned to leave, my hand reached out, fingers brushing hers, stopping her in her tracks. 'Hermione…'
Her breath hitched, and for a moment, the world stood still. She looked at me, a storm of emotions behind her eyes—desire, fear, sorrow. She shook her head slowly, but her grip tightened.
'I can’t, Harry. We can’t. You know why ...'
But the way her voice broke, the way she lingered there, told me everything. We stood in silence, and I could feel the weight of every choice we’d ever made pressing down on us. Every unsaid word, every stolen glance, all of it caught up with us in that one, searing moment.
And then ,I was left there alone, clutching my drink, staring at the empty seat across from me, wishing I had the courage to say the things that would haunt me for years.
Days turned into years, and yet that memory lingered like a bruise. I didn’t let myself dwell on it. What good would it do? We were both married, with families who depended on us. But I could feel it there, under the surface, this quiet ache.
The guilt… Merlin, it eats me alive. She’s married to my best mate. She has children, a life of her own. I see her with Ron and the kids, and part of me feels this crushing shame.
Who am I to want her, to imagine a life with her?
But then, I think about Dumbledore’s words, about making the hard choice, the right choice. And I realize I failed him. I did what was easy. I married Ginny because it was comfortable, because it was what everyone expected of me.
But loving Hermione… that was the hardest thing I could have done. Admitting it, to her and to myself, would have changed everything. It would have meant shattering the lives we’d built, hurting people we loved. And I couldn’t do it. I was a coward.
There were other moments, little glimpses into the life we could’ve had. Once, when I was over at their place, she brushed some bread crumbs off my fringe, brushing my hand as she did. It was the smallest touch, but it set something off in me. A reminder of all those nights spent under the stars, of whispers exchanged in the dead of night in the Forest of Dean . A reminder of a life we’d chosen not to have.
Sometimes, late at night, I let myself imagine what it would’ve been like. Her hair tangled on my pillow, her laughter filling up the empty spaces of my home. But those dreams felt like betrayal, and I always woke up ashamed, wishing I could just erase them from my mind.
Then there were the times I saw her with her kids, the way she looked at them, her face soft and warm. There was something so undeniably beautiful in that, in the way she’d give everything for her family. And it made me question everything.
Dumbledore had warned me about this very thing, about making choices that would haunt me. And here I was, clinging to a life that, while comfortable, felt hollow in places I’d rather not examine too closely.
The years have gone by, and I find myself stuck between memories and regrets. Ginny is a good wife, a wonderful mother. And Hermione… she’s everything I never knew I needed. But life is complicated, and love, as it turns out, is more a matter of choice than feeling. I chose to be where I am, to build this life with Ginny, to be a father to my kids. And despite everything, I’m proud of that.
But if I’m honest, in the quiet moments, when the world feels unbearably still, I let myself dream of another life. One where Hermione’s the one beside me, one where I didn’t take the easy path, one where I had the courage to choose what was right, even if it cost me everything.
And now, all I have left is this quiet, gnawing regret, and the realization that I’ll carry this love with me to my grave.In another life, maybe I would have chosen differently. In this one, all I can do is live with the choice I made — and love her in silence, from a distance, for as long as I breathe.
In the end, though, the trouble is, I’m only human. And we humans do have a knack of choosing precisely those things that are worst for us.
“We must all face the choice between what is right, and what is easy.”
And perhaps, just perhaps, I chose wrong.
All was well..
... or so they say. All was well for Hermione, all was well for Ron, all was well for Ginny. But for me? They’ve moved on, smiles plastered on their faces, while I’m here, piecing together a life that feels like a jigsaw puzzle missing its crucial pieces. But hey, I guess that's just the magic of choices. Just another spell I didn’t cast right.
All was well... or so they say.
AN:-
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