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Harry Potter did not want to celebrate his thirtieth birthday. He didn't want to turn thirty, frankly. Thirty felt like a threshold, one that he wasn't ready to cross.
It wasn't a new feeling, but rather one that had already been creeping up in his periphery for years. It began with Ron's wedding two summers ago. The fact that Ron—Ron, of all people, who continued to act like an adolescent until he was at least twenty-three—was getting married gave Harry a sensation like he was sliding down a slope and couldn't stop himself.
And turning thirty made it feel like that slope was getting steeper.
The worst part was that he couldn't pinpoint what exactly he was inexorably sliding towards that made him want to stop so badly. Adulthood? He was already an adult, wasn't he? He certainly felt like one, and acted like one far more than Ron ever did. He lived on his own and took care of his responsibilities and didn't have parents looking over his shoulder when he paid his taxes to the Ministry. He even had a bit of a taste of fatherhood from when he and Hermione used to take care of Teddy on most weekends during the years when he was too much for Andromeda to handle on her own.
So what was it? He really wasn't sure. All he knew was that he didn't want to turn thirty. But, just as he couldn't stop his sensation of endlessly sliding down that slope, he couldn't stop the sun from rising upon his thirtieth birthday.
He did his best to keep it as quiet as possible, which was a challenge considering that there wasn't a witch or wizard in Britain over the age of eleven who didn't know the date of his birth—it was mentioned in the one chapter of their History of Magic textbooks that they actually paid attention to, after all. The memos chased him around all day at work, and each time he returned to his office, there were new owls tapping away at his windows. And after work, the only thing that he had the urge to do was go out for a pint of butterbeer with Ron and Hermione.
"Really," Ron asked, looking thoroughly amused, "you want to celebrate turning thirty by feeling fifteen again?"
The question landed harder than he undoubtedly intended, and Harry carefully hid his wince.
Hermione, however, clearly detected his discomfort, and patted his shoulder. "It sounds like a perfectly suitable plan to me," she said, although he knew her too well by now to miss the way she modulated her tone in an attempt to conceal the consoling nature of her comment.
They put on a few glamours to disguise themselves: Ron turned his hair golden-blond and hid his freckles, Hermione darkened her hair and sharpened her features, and Harry turned his hair almost as light as a Malfoy's, whitened his complexion, and, most importantly, hid his scar. Once they were all recognizable only to each other, they apparated over to Manchester, where the magical community was relatively small, and went to a bar and ordered a trio of butterbeers.
"To thirty, mate," said Ron, holding up his mug.
"Yeah," Harry muttered, clinking his glass against Ron's.
"To your birthday," Hermione said instead as she joined the toast. "The number doesn't really matter at this point, does it?"
Her words made Harry feel better, exactly as they were intended to do.
Ron, finally seeming to realize what the problem was, went quiet for a long moment as he drank. "Thirty's not all that bad," he said finally. "Wouldn't you say so, Hermione?"
She shrugged as she took her own sip, coming away with a bit of foam mustache that made Harry smile. "To me, it doesn't feel all that different from twenty-nine, or twenty-eight."
"Well, I can't say the same," said Ron, and a fresh grin split his face. "But, if you're keen to forget about your birthday and celebrate something else instead..."
He trailed off dramatically, and Hermione narrowed her eyes. "What is it?" she asked, immediately as impatient as ever for new knowledge.
Ron leant close. "You're not supposed to know yet, so don't let on to Mills that I've told you, but... Guess who's going to be a dad."
Silence reigned for a few seconds as Harry and Hermione both stared at him in shock. Then it was utterly demolished as Hermione burst noisily out of her chair and surged around behind Harry to hurl herself at Ron in a missile hug. "Congratulations!" she exclaimed.
"Thanks." Ron grinned at Harry over her shoulder, and Harry grinned back.
Inside, however, Harry's feelings were inappropriately mixed. He knew that he should be feeling happy for Ron and nothing else, but he also felt like he'd suddenly just gotten an extra push down that slope and was sliding even faster. And he was quite upset with himself for feeling that way over Ron's good news.
* * *
Ron left a bit early to go see his pregnant wife, and Harry and Hermione decided to apparate a few blocks away from her flat in London and take a slow walk the rest of the way.
"It feels odd that Ron's going to be a dad, doesn't it?" Harry asked.
"I don't think it should. He's thirty and married. Bill, Percy, and George were all younger than that when they had their first."
"Yeah, but... he's Ron."
"I get what you're saying, but he's been married for two years now. I just thought that Millie would want to get a bit further on in her career before she started having children."
"Well, she isn't you."
"No, she isn't." Hermione glanced across the street at a couple of kids who were playing hopscotch on the sidewalk. "I feel like this is the first time I'm really going to feel like an aunt. I mean, Vic and Domi and Roxy have been calling me Aunt Hermione for years now, but this time will feel different, since it's Ron."
"Yeah, I reckon it's the same for me."
She glanced at him, and lightly nudged his shoulder with her own. "You know, thirty is really not that bad."
He was caught off-guard by the sudden topic change, and failed to hide his wince this time. "Yeah."
"Like I said, for me, it doesn't feel that different from twenty-eight, or even twenty-five."
"Well, you've always been a bit old for your age, haven't you?"
"Oh shut up." She nudged him again, and then looked up at her building that was now visible as they turned the corner. "Want to come upstairs?"
"Sure."
They dispelled their disguises before entering her building so as not to confuse her doorman, and arrived in the cool comfort of her flat, which was well-warded against the July heat outside. The walls were an emerald-green color that she found comforting, and the furniture was comfortable and perfect for lounging with a book.
He threw himself down onto her couch, watching as she briefly disappeared into her kitchen and reemerged with a pair of glasses of water. "Thanks," he murmured, taking one of the glasses from her and sipping the cold water.
"Would you like anything else?"
"No, thanks."
She settled down beside him, leaning against his shoulder.
"Want to watch a film?"
"You're going to suggest Iron Man again, aren't you?"
He chuckled at her very justified assumption. In the two years since the film's release, he'd already asked her to watch it with him half a dozen times. "It's so good."
She gave a dramatic sigh. "Fine, but only because it's your birthday." Drawing her wand, she summoned her laptop and set up the movie for them.
He smiled through his favorite scenes, and, as always, his smile flickered during the scene where Pepper resigned from her job, even though he knew it wouldn't stick. Tony's response caused a familiar buzzing in his ears.
"I shouldn't be alive... unless it was for a reason."
For a reason. That was why Harry, too, came back, wasn't it? He came back to defeat Voldemort, to save everyone. Lately, though, it didn't feel like he had much reason for anything.
And the thought seemed to give him an extra push down the slope.
By the time they reached the climax of the film, Hermione's breathing had evened out, her head limp on his shoulder. He idly caressed her back as he finished the movie on his own and then shut her laptop.
"Hermione," he whispered then, prodding her waist just enough to gently wake her.
"Hmm," she hummed, not opening her eyes or lifting her head off of him.
With a wry smile, he shifted his arms beneath her and lifted her up, carrying her into her bedroom, which was also colored emerald green. Gently placing her on her bed, he drew his wand and transfigured her attire into clothing she could comfortably sleep in.
"Stay," she murmured.
"If you insist." He transfigured his own clothes and lay down beside her. They had shared a bed so many times by now that there was no discomfort in it at all for either of them, and he didn't flinch as she automatically shifted to return her head to his shoulder, her arm falling across his chest.
"Good night," he murmured, and decided that this was a really nice birthday, thanks to her.
* * *
He woke up and blinked around at the wood-paneled walls of his bedroom at Grimmauld Place, and then froze, realizing that this wasn't right. He'd fallen asleep last night at Hermione's, hadn't he?
It was never a good thing when he woke up in a different place from where he fell asleep, even if it was in his own bed.
"Hermione?" he called, and there was no answer. He scrambled out of bed, blinking at the bright sunlight visible around the edge of the maroon curtains on his window, and hurried out of his room. "Hermione?"
The house was empty, but he found Pigwidgeon tapping away at the kitchen window. Letting the owl in, he retrieved what turned out to be a duplicate of the birthday card that Ron and Millie sent him yesterday, and puzzled over it.
Was this some sort of delayed birthday prank?
Hurriedly getting ready for the day and then flooing to the Ministry, he went straight for Ron's office.
"Happy birthday, mate!" Ron greeted him, just as he did yesterday.
"Very funny," Harry muttered, holding up the duplicate card. "What's this about?"
Ron frowned. "What about it? Millie thought you'd like to hear from us first, before any old Ministry sod beat us to the punch."
Harry faltered at Ron's very convincing display of confusion. "Yesterday, I get it, but today..."
"What are you on about?"
"Happy birthday, Harry!" exclaimed Cynthia, a younger auror who'd gone through Hogwarts with Mills. She came up behind him, chucking a memo onto Ron's desk, just as she'd done yesterday.
Harry stared at her, and then at Ron. "Thanks," he murmured.
"What's with you?" Ron asked.
"Not excited to turn thirty and be a proper adult?" Cynthia asked, patting Harry's arm consolingly.
"Harry!" They turned to see Hermione approaching, and looking oddly unsure of herself. "Erm, could I have a word?"
"Oy, is that any way to greet your best friend on his birthday?" Ron asked.
But Harry took comfort from her uncharacteristic confusion, which reflected how he felt. "Sure, Hermione. Come on." He led her back to his office, sighing with relief as he shut the door and closed them off from whatever madness was happening outside.
"So, the oddest thing happened to me last night," she began cautiously.
"Today is yesterday," he blurted, hoping that she was about to explain that she was experiencing the same phenomenon.
Her expression immediately relaxed into one of relief. "You're seeing it too? I was beginning to wonder if I'd somehow dreamt up a whole day in vivid detail. I mean, I have vivid dreams sometimes, but never like that."
"No, yesterday definitely happened. I mean, didn't it?" Harry also had vivid dreams sometimes, but nothing like experiencing a whole day that didn't happen.
"I'm quite sure that it did... but then..." Her confusion returned.
"What happened?" Harry asked the question for both of them.
"And why are we the only two for whom the day is repeating... at least as far as we know?" she added.
"Maybe it's something that happened at your flat last night, after we fell asleep," he offered. "Or rather, tonight, I guess." He sighed as an owl arrived at the window carrying a birthday card, and quickly let it in before it could start tapping away. If he had to experience this birthday again, couldn't he at least just skip to the part where it was quiet and cozy in her flat in the evening, with no more owls from near-strangers?
When he returned his attention to Hermione, she was worrying her lip between her teeth. "I can't think of anything that could cause this," she finally admitted, looking quite dismayed about it.
"So what do we do?" he asked, setting aside the birthday card without opening it. He already knew what was written in each of them.
She shrugged. "I suppose we should just go about our days, and see if anything else strange happens that might shed some light on this. I do have a lot of work to get done."
He sighed. "Alright."
"Do you still want to go out for butterbeers later?"
"Not really, but I guess Ron will be put out if I don't want to do anything."
"It's entirely up to you. I'm sure he'll understand. Besides, Millie will want him to be around more now that she's..." A small smile flitted briefly across her lips. "We're really not supposed to know about that yet."
"No, we aren't."
"So what would you rather do?"
"Could we just go back to yours after work? I'd rather just skip to the relaxing evening with you."
She reddened a bit. "Fine, but we aren't watching Iron Man again."
"Oh come on, you know it's a good film."
"Yes, but there are other good films."
"Fine," he agreed with a smirk.
* * *
The day went by extremely slowly, every bit of it a repeat of yesterday from the moment Hermione left his office until the moment they met up again at the end of the day. He let her choose the movie this time, which led to him being the one who fell asleep while she giggled at some romantic comedy.
When she nudged him awake, his face was buried in her wild, sweet-smelling hair. "Sorry," he murmured, pulling off stray strands of brown curls that stuck to his skin.
"It's okay. Had a nice birthday nap?"
"I didn't plan to. How is it that an absolutely brilliant woman who is notoriously terrible at relationships gets such a kick out of silly, hare-brained romantic stories?"
"You're one to talk about being terrible at relationships."
It was true. They were both infamously dreadful at relationships, to the point where it had become a part of the mythos surrounding the Boy-Who-Lived and the Brightest Witch of Her Age. Hermione never had any shortage of suitors, but she always put her career first and generally avoided dating altogether, while Harry's distaste for talking about his past and his tendency to mentally check out the moment it became clear that a woman saw him as a hero first, which was the case with just about everyone, meant that he was almost as perpetually single as his best friend was.
But it felt perfectly alright so long as they got to be perpetually single together.
"I think maybe we should try to stay awake," Hermione suggested, "at least through midnight. That way, if there's some form of magic that sent us back in time a day as we slept, maybe we can stop it from happening again."
"Okay," Harry replied doubtfully, not sure how they would stop such a spell, or whatever it was that had affected them. "So what should we do in the meantime?"
She retrieved a deck of cards, and they played a variety of games as midnight slowly approached, and then...
...He awoke in his own bedroom again.
* * *
"Let's try staying at your place tonight," Hermione suggested. "If it's something in my flat that's causing this, I can get rid of it later, but let's at least get safely into August first."
She had come to his office immediately this time, joining him in ignoring everyone who was trying to wish him a happy birthday a third time around.
"That sounds like a plan," said Harry, very eager to escape from this day.
They again went about their days like normal, and then returned to Grimmauld Place together at the end of the day, settling down on his bed when the time came to sleep. When he awoke, he found her sitting on the edge of the bed, staring down at him. "It worked," he murmured.
"No, it didn't," she replied morosely. "I woke up in my own bed, and flooed right back over here. It's still your birthday."
He groaned and rolled over, burying his face in his pillow. "I think I'll just stay home this time."
"I think we should go to the Department of Mysteries. If there's some sort of enchantment on us, maybe the Unspeakables can figure it out and undo it."
"Great," he muttered, "love going back there."
She patted his back consolingly.
* * *
The Unspeakables prodded them with a variety of enchantments, but didn't find anything unusual. Harry and Hermione followed them into the Time Room, which was once again full of time-turners, but again, nothing odd was detected.
"Can we stay here overnight?" Hermione asked. "Maybe the room will detect whatever magic is affecting us as soon as it kicks in. Or maybe we'll be protected from it in here."
The Unspeakables agreed, but her plan didn't pan out anyway, and Harry again awoke in his bedroom with her sitting beside him.
Again and again, they looped through the day, and he watched as she grew more and more agitated at her own uncertainty. He began avoiding the Ministry, letting them all think he'd decided to give himself an impromptu day off on his birthday, while she went to take care of her essential work and then immediately returned to Grimmauld afterwards, or else invited him over to hers.
The sense of ennui set in inevitably, until Harry decided that they needed to start being more adventurous. They went to the zoo, and then through the various gardens in London, and then to anywhere else they thought of, but even that started to get old before long.
"Let's go clubbing tonight," she suggested one night, to his shock.
"What?"
She shrugged. "It's something different to do. And I haven't been in years."
"I haven't either, for good reason."
She shrugged again, and he realized that she was right. Anything different felt like a good different right now, after however many times they had gone through this day.
So they got dolled up and went out, finding a place where the crowd didn't universally look several years younger than they were. Harry got drinks for them and found a table that was semi-secluded in the corner, and watched as Hermione surveyed the people around them. She was wearing a silvery top with thin straps over her shoulders, and with her wild mane of hair, she looked like she had just stepped out of a movie.
"Should I dance with someone?" she asked him.
"Someone?" He eyed her. "You mean a bloke?"
"Do you have a problem with that?"
He briefly bit his tongue. "They're all Muggles," he pointed out after a moment. "Whatever magic is affecting us at midnight, if they see it..."
"We've got over an hour before then. I'm not saying I'll go home with anyone." She stood, perusing the crowd again.
"I'll dance with you," he decided, rising alongside her.
"Really?"
"Yes." He took her hand and led her onto the edge of the dancefloor, where he pulled her close to match the proximity of the others dancing around them.
"Protective, are you?" she asked, looping her arms over his shoulders.
"With you? Always." He began moving with her, catching every bloke who cast an envious look their way as they danced. "And for good reason."
She rolled her eyes, but moved closer. "Well, if we're keeping this loop interesting, I hope you're prepared to follow through on your claim."
He looked down as she eliminated the space between their bodies. "What exactly do you have in mind?"
"Something that we haven't done in a while. And I don't think you've done it with anyone else recently, either. Nor have I."
He arched a brow at her, and knew that she could feel the moment his body started reacting to her proximity and her suggestion. "Are you sure?"
"Very."
He kissed her, and immediately decided that this was the best loop yet, and wondered why it had taken them so many to get around to this.
Then again, it had been years since they last did this. In their early twenties, they'd had an arrangement that they acted on whenever they were both single, but they came to a mutual understanding that it gave them too much incentive to sabotage genuine attempts at relationships. They were simply much better at shagging each other than either of them were at shagging anyone else, which could probably be chalked up to the fact that they first learned sex together as a pair of scared and lonely teenagers in a tent, and were forever afterwards attuned to each other's particular preferences and pleasures.
Still, as she sank down on him later when they were back in her flat, and he felt her tight cunt mercilessly grip his cock for the first time in years, he wondered how it could possibly have taken them this many loops to get back to this.
Her words echoed his thoughts. "Why did it take us so long to get to this?" she moaned as she began to sensually roll her hips on him.
"No idea," he breathed, taking hold of her hips and helping her move. "Maybe we never should have stopped doing this in the first place."
She laughed through her next sigh. "Maybe you're right." Then she let out a stuttering exhale as she rolled her hips just right to take him even deeper inside her. "Remember that deal we made all those years ago? If we were still single when we were thirty..."
"...we would marry each other," he finished for her, chuckling half at the memory and half at the pleasure she was eliciting. "I think we were in the middle of doing this when we said that."
She nodded before rolling her head to the side. "Oh, Harry. Maybe we should follow through on it."
"You say that now. Once we're out of this loop, though..." He sat up, wrapping his arms around her and kissing her sweaty skin.
She sped up her movements, moaning louder, and then...
...he woke up in his own bed, with a very frustrated Hermione sitting beside him.
* * *
"Are you listening to me?"
"Hm?" he snapped back to the present, meeting her narrow eyes.
"I asked if you were listening." They were sitting in the library at Grimmauld Place, surrounded by her usual piles of books.
He smiled indulgently. "I hang on every word you say."
"Very funny. Stop thinking about sex for two seconds. It's been barely an hour since we shagged."
"Which time?"
She rolled her eyes. "Focus, Harry."
"On what? Haven't you tested every single possible theory by now?"
"Well something has to get us out of this!" she snapped.
He quickly sobered at her frustration.
"Sorry."
"It's alright. I get it, believe me."
She sighed. "I think we may have accidentally made a magical vow of some kind."
"What?"
"When we said that we would get married at thirty."
He frowned. "That was just a silly thing we said in the heat of the moment while we were shagging."
"Yes, while our magic was mingling together. Magic works in quite silly ways sometimes, especially when we're not completely in control of ourselves."
He blinked at her, still frowning. "But it wasn't a vow."
"Maybe it was. Not the kind that kills you, but the kind that traps you in a time loop until you fulfill it. We're both thirty now, ergo, magic thinks it's time we follow through on our promise."
"But we're both thirty for fifty more days after this one. Why today?"
She shrugged.
He sighed. "So we actually have to get married?"
"I believe so. And, you know, I'm usually right about these things."
"Yeah," he muttered. "That'll be a hell of a thing, to plan out and have a wedding in a single day."
"It doesn't have to be big. I'd rather it not be, honestly, given the circumstances."
Her words made him feel better, the underlying ridiculousness of the situation notwithstanding. "I agree."
"I still want my parents to be there, though."
"Right, of course."
* * *
He felt like he was twelve years old all over again as the two elder Grangers stared him down.
"So let me get this straight," said Frank, shifting his stern gaze to his daughter. "The two of you jokingly made a promise to marry each other if you were both single at thirty, and now magic, for some reason, is making you follow through on that promise?"
"Yes," Hermione replied without her customary confidence.
Harry winced as his soon-to-be in-laws shared a long, unhappy glance. "I'm sorry," he mumbled, "I never meant to trap Hermione in this situation."
"We know, Harry," Helen replied. "That doesn't mean we're happy with the way you've gone about this."
"Well, there's nothing to be done about it now," said Hermione. "Harry and I have to get married."
"And what if this doesn't work?" her father asked. "What if this isn't the way out of your time loop?"
"It has to be. We've tried everything else."
He sighed and exchanged another long glance with his wife. "Well, Harry, you have our blessing, even though it's given under somewhat more duress than we would have preferred."
"I'm sorry," Harry repeated.
"Oh don't be like that, Frank," Helen admonished her husband. "Harry has had our blessing for a long time now. We just didn't think it would take something like this to finally bring the two of you together."
"What?" Harry and Hermione asked in unison.
"To be honest, we expected the two of you to get married years ago, and not because magic forced the issue."
"Oh not this again," Hermione muttered, as Harry snapped his head towards her.
"Haven't you ever wondered, Harry, why none of Hermione's other attempts at a lasting relationship have succeeded?"
"Mum..."
"We're both rather awful at relationships," he confessed self-consciously.
"What you mean is that you're both awful at relationships with anyone other than each other. Why is that?"
"It doesn't matter!" Hermione snapped, frowning at her parents. "We're wasting time, and Harry and I have to get married today!"
"Fine," her mum agreed, "let's get the two of you out of this loop, and then you can sort out the finer points of your situation afterwards, if magic allows it to work that way."
* * *
"You look beautiful," he whispered, approaching her as she stared at the interior of the wedding chapel. She had transfigured a wedding dress for herself, and done a very impressive job of it.
"You're not supposed to see me before the wedding," she whispered back half-jokingly.
He shrugged. "How are you feeling?"
"I'm kind of nervous. Aren't you?"
"I'm definitely nervous," he confessed.
"Well, you did agree to marry me all those years ago."
"While we were in the heat of the moment. I didn't think it would matter this much." He let out a dry laugh. "I should have known better, with our luck."
"Yeah, I suppose so." She grimaced. "Still, I would rather this were our choice. We never get to do things the normal way, do we?"
"No, we don't." He took her hand. "But at least we get to figure it all out together, like always."
Her grimace turned into a proper smile. "Yes, that is a very bright silver lining, isn't it?"
So they married in a quick ceremony, and then returned to her flat for a particularly energetic consummation of their marriage, each of them excited to finally be free of the time loop that had trapped them in a single day for so long, and then...
* * *
...he woke up in his own bed. She was again sitting on the edge of it, her arms wrapped around her knees, staring at the sunlight peeking around the edges of his maroon curtains.
"I was so sure that I was right," she said glumly, her brown eyes wet.
He groaned lowly, covering his face against the light and the grim reality that they were still trapped.
She took a deep breath that trembled on the way out. "I think we should spend a few loops apart," she whispered.
"What?" he lowered his hands and sat up, staring at her in horror.
"You heard me."
His insides felt like they were turning to ice. "No, Hermione, please..."
"I think it's for the best."
"But we just got married!" he blurted desperately.
"No, we didn't. We got married tonight, and it didn't count."
"So now you want to break up?"
"We aren't together!" Her voice was halfway between whisper and shriek now as she stood up, her hands flailing outwards. "We're just friends, Harry! Friends who are clearly going more than a little bit insane as we try to figure this out, and that's getting us confused about things!" She turned to him, crossing her arms. "So I think we should spend some time apart."
"I don't want that."
"Well, I think we need it. Or I need it." When he didn't respond to that, she sighed. "I'll stop by in a few loops, but I think this will be good. A chance for both of us to think clearly, without distractions. Maybe we'll finally figure this out."
He buried his face in his knees, unwilling to contemplate enduring this endless loop without her. He didn't want to have to endure anything without her.
But she left, regardless.
* * *
"Harry?"
"Hey, Mills."
Millie Weasley stared at him in surprise as he stood on the doorstep of the house she shared with Ron. "What are you doing here? Aren't you meant to be at work with Ron?"
Harry laughed dryly as he looked her over, from the short bob of brown hair framing her pale face and deep-set, hazel eyes to the long, pink, flowery dress that she wore. She wasn't showing any signs of her pregnancy yet. "Could I come in?"
"Of course." She stepped aside to allow him to enter, and then gave him a brief hug. "Happy birthday, by the way."
"Thanks," he muttered. "And thanks for the card."
She led him into the kitchen, which she'd decked out in Hufflepuff colors, and he sat down heavily on a black stool in front of the granite island that filled the middle of the space while she put the kettle on.
"So what's bothering you?" she asked when that was done.
It occurred to him that he'd never been alone with her before. He'd made a point of avoiding her when she and Ron first got together, not wanting to draw extra media attention to them. It was already enough of a scandal at the time, considering that Ron had just turned twenty-six and she was not quite twenty, but they fit together well. As Hermione had put it, their emotional ages were much closer than their physical ages. So Harry had kept his distance and tried to keep the national attention elsewhere to let Ron develop the controversial new relationship in relative peace, and he himself didn't really get to know Millie until after Ron proposed to her.
"Does this have something to do with Hermione?" she asked when he failed to respond to her previous question.
"What makes you say that?"
She gave him a knowing look. "If you don't mind me saying so, whenever you're looking this emotional over anything, it has to do with Hermione."
He sighed. "Yeah, I suppose so."
"Don't let Ron know I told you that, by the way. He's dead-set on letting the two of you figure it out on your own, but a girl gets impatient after a while."
Harry wasn't sure what she meant by that, so he changed the subject. "How have you been feeling?"
She paused in confusion, and then looked down at herself when she realized what he was referring to. "Speaking of things that aren't meant to be said aloud yet..."
"Sorry."
"Don't you apologize. He's the one who shouldn't have told you yet, but I can't say I'm surprised." She smoothed her hands over the front of her dress, which was still perfectly flat. "I've been alright. The vomiting hasn't been as bad in the past week."
He winced. "Good to know."
"Hey, you asked." She turned back to the stove at the exact moment that the kettle started whistling. "And what about you? You've only been thirty for a few hours, and you're already sitting there slumped like an old geyser."
He gave a wry laugh. "Ron is five months older than I am," he pointed out.
"Yes, but I keep him young. And Merlin knows that the baby will do the same." She set a steaming mug in front of him. "Maybe that's what you need, to go and knock up some broad. And then our sprogs can go to Hogwarts together."
"That's the sort of joke that he would make."
"What can I say, we rub off on each other very well." She sipped her tea.
He sipped his own. "That's too much information."
"Would you rather hear more about the vomiting?"
"Not particularly."
"So then why don't you tell me about whatever Hermione did that's got you looking like this?"
"Do you really think I'm only glum when it involves Hermione?"
"I'd say it's a question of magnitude."
He sighed. "It's complicated."
"It's really not as complicated as you think it is."
"You'd be surprised."
She scoffed. "If I were to go and fetch her right now, what would she tell me?"
He grimaced. "She's busy at work right now."
"And she would leave it behind in a heartbeat if I told her you needed her help with something."
"Don't. She's busy."
No sooner had he said that than the fireplace flared to life with green flames, and Hermione emerged. "Millie? Sorry to drop in on you like this, but... Harry!"
He stared at her, and she stared back.
"Hermione, this is a surprise," Millie said amusedly into her mug. "To hear Harry tell it, you're awfully busy at work today."
Hermione opened her mouth and then closed it again. "Yeah," she muttered. Turning away from him, she gave Millie a chance to set down her mug before pulling her into a hug. "How are you feeling?"
Millie chuckled wryly. "I imagine you'll be more amenable to hearing about the vomiting than Harry is."
Hermione grimaced. "Maybe a bit."
"Don't worry, I'll spare you. Just something to look forward to when your turn comes around. So what is it that you wanted to talk to me about?"
"Er..." Hermione glanced awkwardly at Harry. "I didn't, really. Just thought that maybe we could have a bit of a girls' day."
"Don't you have a lot of work to do?"
"Yes, but it can wait until... tomorrow."
Millie looked back and forth between her and Harry. "Whatever this is, maybe it's a bit complicated after all."
"What gives it away?" Harry muttered, looking away from both of them as he took a longer sip of tea.
"I appreciate you wanting to hang out, Hermione, but I'm going to decline, in light of it being Harry's birthday." Millie circled the island and patted his shoulders with both hands. "If your work today isn't essential, I imagine that no one else's is, either, so what say we throw Harry an impromptu party?"
Harry groaned. "That really isn't necessary."
"I disagree. You seem like you need a reminder of how much everyone appreciates you."
"I really don't."
Ignoring his protests, she continued circling around to the fireplace. "I'm going to fetch Ron. No shagging on the counter while I'm out."
She was gone in a whirl of green fire, and Harry and Hermione were left alone. Hermione sighed, leaning her elbows on the counter and putting her face in her hands. "I'm sorry about this."
"Don't be."
"I just thought that she and I could..." She trailed off. "What have you been up to these past few loops?"
He grimaced at the reminder of all the time he'd spent alone since the morning she left him. "Scouring the Black Library, mostly."
"If the answer were in there, I'd have found it by now."
"I know."
She sighed again. "I've tried a bunch of different libraries. It seems like no one has ever encountered magic like this before."
"That's how it tends to go for us, isn't it?"
She huffed.
"We should be trying to figure this out together."
"That wasn't working. We even went so far as to get married, Harry, and it was meaningless."
"It wasn't meaningless."
"Well it didn't mean enough, clearly."
He met her frown with his own. Before he could say anything else, however, the fireplace flared again, and they both schooled their expressions as Millie returned with Ron.
* * *
The party was held in Dean and Ginny's backyard, in the space between the two sets of quidditch goal posts that she'd rigged up at either end. The star chaser herself plopped down beside Harry as she surveyed the small crowd that had gathered on her property. "Happy birthday."
"Thanks. And thanks for agreeing to host this on such short notice."
She smirked. "Please, I barely had to do anything, knowing that Millie was involved. She's a force of nature when it comes to parties."
He looked over at where Ron and Millie were swapping jokes at the center of the crowd. "Yeah, very much like her husband."
"Or like a Weasley in general." Ginny took a sip of firewhiskey. "Not so much like a Potter."
"Oh, I don't know about that. My dad apparently enjoyed attention almost as much as Ron does."
"Yes, but you don't. I'm amazed that they convinced you to agree to this so easily."
"Yeah, well, it was good for a change of pace. I've had a long... week."
She cocked her head. "Have you?"
He didn't meet her eye. "It's complicated."
"Ah yes, 'it's complicated,' the eternal Harry-ism for 'I want to talk about it with Hermione and no one else.' I can't say I've ever missed that."
"Sorry," he muttered, looking over at where Hermione was laughing at something Seamus was telling her, a near-empty wine glass in her hand.
"So when are the two of you finally going to get your heads out of your arses? Don't tell Ron I said that, by the way."
He looked away.
* * *
The whole party wound up watching Iron Man on Dean's big television. Harry winced when they got up to Pepper's resignation.
"You stood by my side all these years... and now... you're gonna walk out?"
"I shouldn't be alive... unless it was for a reason."
For a reason.
"Stop the movie!" said Harry, rising to his feet.
Everyone looked at him in surprise, and Dean paused the film, freezing the frame on Tony's determined expression.
"I just finally know what I have to do," Harry muttered the next line to himself as he turned to Hermione, who was seated between Ginny and Millie on the other side of the crowd.
"Are you alright?" she asked, looking at him with a similar expression to the one Pepper was giving Tony.
"It's for a reason," he replied, the seated crowd parting around his feet as he approached her. "All of it happened for a reason, and we forgot about that part."
"What are you talking about?"
"Every morning since you left, I've woken up hoping you would be there again. And then I've paid a visit to Gringotts and retrieved a single item from my vault."
"What?"
"You were right about why we were trapped. You were right about what we have to do. We just didn't go about it the right way." He knelt on one knee in front of her. "It wasn't meaningless, Hermione, but you're right that it didn't mean enough."
"Harry..."
"I don't want to wake up without you anymore, not ever again. We've always been best friends, but we've also always been more than that, and we ignored it because we thought that wasn't how it was supposed to go, that it was too simple for us. But your mum is right, there's a reason why we're both famously dreadful at being in relationships with anyone else."
Ginny scoffed. "As if her mum is the only one who's ever said that." Hermione and Millie both shot her frowns, and she quickly shut her mouth. "Sorry. You were saying, Harry?"
"I love you, Hermione. And that's it, that's the reason. We didn't break free the first time around because we didn't acknowledge it, we pretended that what we were doing was merely a solution to our problem. But it's so much more than that. It's what I've never let myself want all along." He reached into his pocket and pulled out the ring that he'd retrieved from Gringotts every morning since she left. "I want to marry you, Hermione Granger. For real this time."
Silence reigned as everyone stared at him.
"That was the most confusing proposal speech I've ever heard," said Cynthia from where she was leaning against Millie's knee. "And also the most romantic one."
Millie clamped her hand over her friend's mouth. "And also the most long-awaited one." With her other arm, she nudged Hermione hard.
Hermione jerked up from where she'd been staring at Harry in shock. "Yes!" she blurted, before catching herself. "I mean, yes, Harry, I think you're right about everything you just said. And yes, I would also like to marry you for all of the above reasons." She swallowed, and then held out her left hand. "And, as I'm quite sure everyone here already knows, I love you too."
There was a general murmur of agreement from the onlookers, and Harry chuckled quietly as he slipped the ring onto her finger. And then he stood up and kissed her soundly, to applause.
"I can't believe you just proposed in the middle of Iron Man," she mumbled against his lips.
"Oh come on, you know it's a good film." He pulled away from her. "We're getting married tonight," he said, looking into her eyes but loud enough for everyone to hear him. "As soon as possible. Let's go and fetch your parents."
"And mine," said Ginny. "My mum would kill you if she were to miss this, you know that."
* * *
The moment that he and Hermione were declared bonded for life, Harry knew that it was indeed for real this time. He leant in and kissed her soundly, earning another applause from the crowd.
The following morning, he looked around at the comforting emerald-green walls of her room and grinned, then kissed his sleeping wife, earning a happy little hum from her as she stirred.
"Good morning," she murmured, not opening her eyes just yet.
"Good morning." He kissed her again. "It's the first of August."
"I've noticed."
A giddy chuckle burst out of him.
She hummed again and pressed her face into his shoulder. "I feel a little foolish."
"Why?"
"All this time, all I had to do was simply admit that I'm in love with you."
"Yes, well, you're not the only one who struggled with that." He pulled her close, kissing her cheek. "I do love you, though. I really, really do."
"I love you too." Her hand caressed his ribs.
He let out a happy sigh, reflecting on what they'd just gone through. "You know, I really didn't want to turn thirty."
"I know."
"For a couple years now, it's felt like I was sliding down a slope and couldn't stop myself."
"That's pretty much what getting older feels like. I've just kept myself as busy as possible so it doesn't feel like I'm sliding as quickly." She kissed his skin. "But it feels a lot better when I'm not sliding alone."
"Yes, it does," he agreed. "I don't mind it at all when I'm sliding together with you."
She lifted up until she reached his lips, and kissed him languidly. "So you want to slide forever with me, do you?"
"I do, Mrs. Potter."
She smiled. "That name is remarkably easy to get used to."
"Well, it's been a long time coming, hasn't it?"
"Yes, it has, even if we were barely engaged for an hour before our wedding."
He chuckled and rolled them over, kissing her again once his body was above hers. "In that case, we'll have to make up for lost time."
"Oh yeah? And what do you have in mind for— Oh!" She cut herself off with a moan as his hand landed between her legs.
"How's this for a start?" he asked as he began pleasuring her.
"Good start." She spread her legs wide to aid his access, and her moans grew louder as he kissed his way down her body.
The first of August was going to be a great day.