The world of Harry Potter and its characters are owned by J. K. Rowling. None of them are mine.

Chapter 1: Something Borrowed

In a quiet street lined with rather large houses, the silence of the night was interrupted by a loud and resounding crack that echoed all the way down to the street. A man with unruly dark hair was now standing underneath one of the lampposts, breathing hard and blinking at his surroundings. He worried that the sound of his Apparation had broken the night's peace, but no curtains were drawn nor were there lights flickering to life in the upstairs windows. After a moment, he crossed the street briskly towards Number 497, where he was glad to hear the slightly muffled sounds of a television coming through the living room window. The path toward the front door was rather long, giving Harry Potter time to take in the house's appearance. It consisted of two storeys; its red brick façade lined with immaculate glass windows that reflected the streetlamps lining the road. Bushes dotted with little white roses filled the sizeable garden out front, and in the middle stood a little birdbath complete with tiny stone dwarf figures.

Harry raised his hand to ring the doorbell. In no time at all, a high familiar voice called out from behind the door. "Who is it?"

"'Tis I, Harry Potter! Chosen One and the Dark Lord's Destroyer! I have come to seek the venerable Lady Hermione's aid, and pray that she grace me with her presence!"

It opened a crack seconds later, and a brown eye appeared, peering at him carefully. "Harry?"

"My lady! I am honoured— honoured— to be standing upon your venerable porch and seeing you in your venerable polka-dot pajamas—"

"What is Harry Potter's favourite dessert?" she interrupted briskly.

"Treacle tart," Harry answered promptly; flashing what he thought was a winning smile.

After a moment or two, the door opened wider and Harry grinned at the bushy-haired girl looking at him through the gap between the door and the doorjamb. She was wearing an oversized T-shirt and indeed, pajamas riddled with polka dots.

"Harry!" Hermione Granger exclaimed, looking relieved but thoroughly surprised at the sight of him standing on her doorstep. She opened the door fully now. "What are you doing here?"

"Came to see you, of course," Harry said cheerfully, kissing her cheek. "Don't really get to do that often now that you're working full-time at the Ministry."

Still looking thoroughly bewildered, Hermione stepped aside to let him into the dark foyer. With the light of the television coming from the living room, it was then he noticed that she had her wand clutched tightly in her hand. Raising his eyebrows, he gave her a quizzical look as she locked the door behind her. "Something wrong, Hermione?"

"Just a precaution. I put up wards around the house to let me know if someone's approaching," Hermione explained. "I know it's not as dangerous as it used to be, but it's not exactly a time for social calls, is it? It's half past ten, Harry."

She had a point. Harry looked towards the television in the living room, where a documentary on what looked like ancient Egyptian tombs still blared. Hermione shut off the television set and motioned for Harry to follow her deeper into the house, flicking the hall lights on as she went. Harry trailed after her, looking around in interest. He had never been inside Hermione's house before. They had always preferred to meet somewhere in wizarding London, if not at the Burrow.

The hall was lined with many photos that seemed to be arranged in chronological order. The first few photos showed a brown-eyed baby girl, smiling widely with only two or three teeth. Another of the same baby in a bright pink dress, her hands outstretched towards her dark-haired mother who appeared to be laughing with delight as Hermione took her very first steps. Further down the hall was Hermione as a toddler, her arms stretched up above her like a superhero as her father lifted her over his head. There were too many photos taken at various awarding ceremonies. Somewhere towards the second half of the line was Hermione as Harry knew her. There she was, standing on Platform 9 and ¾, where she was wearing a huge smile with her brand new school robes; Hogwarts, A History held tightly in one hand.

Shaking his head fondly at the memory of her unceremoniously entering his and Ron's train compartment a long time ago, Harry forged on, following the sound of her footsteps as they went deeper into the house.

The later pictures told a different story. Photos of Hermione were fewer and more spaced out in time. The pictures taken of her parents at different countries gave off a sense of loneliness. It could not have been clearer that Hermione had stopped spending much time with her family ever since she had started at Hogwarts, even during the breaks. He looked at Hermione and her parents standing under the Eiffel Tower. This was one of the last few pictures of them together, looking carefree and happy. The rest showed varied levels of sad smiles and strained expressions, Hermione's most prominent of all. There were no pictures of her in her seventh year; that had been the year Mr. and Mrs. Granger had been led to believe that they had no daughter.

All of the photos were, up to this point, stationary; but movement from one of the very last frames caught his eye. Upon closer inspection, he realized that it was a photo of Hermione and her parents at her Hogwarts graduation, where all three of them were beaming widely at the camera. Every now and then her parents would wave, smile, and wipe happy tears from their eyes. With around a dozen medallions hanging upon her neck (they gave her so many awards, she had to take some off during the ceremony for fear of suffocation; something he and Ron still tease her about) she was wearing a wreath of laurel leaves (as tradition for each class's top student) in her hair and ceremonial robes made especially for the occasion; and even Harry, who did not care much for clothes, thought it was worth finishing his education just to wear them. They were of deep obsidian, with the Hogwarts crest stitched perfectly into the front. Crimson and gold trim circled the sleeves and the collar, as well as the hem. It wasn't the robes' appearance so much as its symbolism that appealed to Harry. Owning one of these meant that he had finished his magical education through normal means, that he, like almost everyone in Wizarding Britain, had finished school at Hogwarts.

He had not been able to face returning for his final year. He knew that he had once sought solace in its halls, that it was the first home he ever knew. Too many things had happened within it, and the battle that occurred there almost two years ago was just one time too many. He would not have been able to last a day without missing the people he used to walk the corridors with, many of them dead because of Voldemort and his Death Eaters. His mind would keep reliving that last duel if he sat in the Great Hall for too long. And so, he decided to forgo going back to Hogwarts, relieved that Ron had not wanted to go back as well.

Of course, dropping out of school meant that he and Ron never received their NEWTs. Harry had worried that he would find it difficult finding a job, but it turns out he needn't have worried about it all. All the witches and wizards he had approached for work insisted that defeating the most evil wizard of the age easily outranked a handful of mangy old NEWTs. It was yet another mark of how different Harry's life was to most wizards. Destroying Tom Riddle and pieces of his soul constituted as his end-of-year exams; and apparently, he had received an 'Outstanding'.

This impressive little feat had apparently caused everyone to decide that Harry was qualified to take on any profession he chose to pursue. The Auror Department at the Ministry of Magic had offered to take him without training at all. Every single Quidditch team in the league had sent him letters, all declaring that he could replace any one of their players should he decide to join them. Departments in the Ministry sent him job offers almost daily; all of them insisting that his true calling lay in being an Obliviator or an Unspeakable. It seemed as if everyone wanted 'the Dark Lord's Destroyer' to themselves. Quite overwhelmed by the number of requests and all too forward advances, he had taken up the Auror Department's offer, with the condition that he be trained and tested just like the other recruits.

"Harry?" Hermione's voice broke him out of his revelry. Harry had stopped right in front of her graduation photo, staring at it blankly. She walked back towards him, turning to look at it. With an understanding smile, she pulled his arm and continued leading him further down the hall.

"In here."

Harry found himself in a large kitchen, bright and cozy. Gesturing for Harry to take one of the stools lined up along the counter, Hermione retrieved two large mugs from one of the cabinets and proceeded to make tea for both of them.

"Why are you really here, Harry?" she asked, filling the mugs with hot water from her wand.

"Ginny wants those earrings you promised to lend her," Harry said, looking at her slyly as he added, "you know, the ones Krum sent you."

"Oh! That's right, I did tell her I'd lend her those for the wedding," she said, now placing a tea bag in each mug.

"You told us they were from your parents," he accused.

"Well, of course I did. You know perfectly well how Ron would have reacted if he found out it was from Viktor, Harry," she rolled her eyes. "You didn't tell him, did you?"

"Unfortunately, he was in the room when Ginny told me. You should have seen him— he choked on his mead and was on all fours by the time we decided to sort him out ourselves. He wanted to charge up here, but we convinced him that it was better for me to be the one to go. Can't have the two of you in another row this close to the wedding, can we?" Harry smiled at her, amused. "I'm sorry that I had to come this late, but Ron insisted that I should go up here and 'give you a talking to' anyway."

"Let's have it then." Hermione said, eyeing him skeptically. Harry merely shook his head, laughing.

"You and I both know I'm not stupid enough to try and give you a talking to about Krum, Hermione. I only came to shut Ron up so he wouldn't bother Ginny," he told her, accepting his tea with a smile of thanks. The last part wasn't entirely true, but he didn't bother saying it out loud. The truth was he found the wedding planning suffocating and was glad to have an excuse to leave the Burrow. It was nice to escape the noise and kerfuffle that filled it as Ginny ran around, organizing and planning to the very last detail. He had expected her to become slightly anxious at the very least, as the day of their union came nearer, but she seemed to be drawing strength from it. She had put up a board in the middle of the Weasleys' small sitting room, and on it she had pinned hundreds of tiny notes, cloth strips, and photographs. It made Harry nauseous just looking at it, but it all seemed to make sense to his fiancée. Every day she pinned more and more things onto the board; he could only assume that she had cast a Steadying Charm on it as it hadn't toppled over yet. She'd work hours into the night, snapping at whoever was foolish enough to bother her. It seemed that Ginny wanted their wedding to be perfect, down to the last napkin ring.

Ginny wanted a grand wedding with more than a thousand guests, complete with its own choir and orchestra. Harry had refused; he wanted something small and private, but she was adamant. She argued that this would only happen once in their lives and wouldn't he want it to be unforgettable? Plus, she reasoned, it would cost only a fraction of what it normally would anyway, as many of the businesses in the magical England would gladly give their services for free in exchange for the endorsement of the Potter-Weasley wedding. In one of their worse arguments, Harry even went so far as to suggest postponing the wedding until they both agreed on a compromise. His expression faltered after he saw the look on her face. Harry gave in to her pleas in the end, tired as he was of the nagging and fighting.

He sat there quietly for a few minutes, sipping his tea. Hermione did not seem to be in any hurry to break the silence either; she looked like she was lost in thought. As this behavior wasn't entirely unexpected of her, Harry contented himself by looking at his surroundings. The kitchen was spotlessly clean, but not unnaturally so like Aunt Petunia's used to be. Its light yellow walls gave off a warm, welcoming air, and the little blue accents found here and there gave the room personality. Knives and other utensils were arranged on a little metal island in the middle, and pots and pans hung upon the walls. Its spaciousness prevented the room from feeling stuffy. Harry sensed that this room was used very, very frequently.

"This is my Mum's room; she loves cooking. So much in fact, that she wanted to be a chef until my grandparents convinced her that dentistry was a better choice. Carry on the family business and all. Gramps is still upset about my career choices— he couldn't understand why I preferred to work in an office instead of my very own clinic," Hermione said from beside him. He realized she had been watching him as he was looking around. "Mum and Dad turned in early tonight; I think they're going to a dentistry convention in Cornwall tomorrow."

Harry looked at his best friend. There were deep shadows under her eyes; indeed, deeper than he had ever seen them for a long time. She looked pale and tired, like she usually did during exam weeks in Hogwarts.

"Are you all right, Hermione? Them at the Ministry aren't piling too much work on you, are they?" he said indignantly. "You've only been there a month!"

"What? Of course not," she said, looking startled. "They're not giving me enough, actually. I've asked, but they seem to think I've more than enough work as it is."

"Well, obviously they don't know the great Hermione Granger all that much," he said. He smiled, but he was still troubled. If they weren't giving her as much work as she would have liked, then why did she look like she wasn't getting sleep at all? "Are you sure you're all right, though? You look exhausted."

"Oh, I've had the flu these past few days, that's all. I haven't had time to buy some Pepper Up from Diagon Alley, but I've been making do with some of the Muggle medicine we have lying around. I'm all right now." She said quickly.

"And you still showed up to work even though you were sick," Harry guessed, shaking his head.

"Well of course I did. I couldn't let the paperwork pile up, could I? Oh, shut up," she said, when he smirked at her. She hadn't smiled once since he had arrived and he was glad to see a grudging smile appear as he continued to snigger.

"I think you've got to get going, they might wonder where you've got to. I'll go get those earrings." She started to get up from the table. Watching her slight frame straighten up, Harry had a feeling that Hermione didn't want him to go. He could not shake impression that she was feeling rather lonely.

He touched her arm to stop her. "It's okay, Hermione. Believe me, I'm in no big hurry to get back to the Burrow myself. Ginny's probably too busy and Ron will only be happier that I'm taking a long time to talk some sense into you."

She didn't smile, but she sat back down and stared at the table top. "How's the wedding planning going?" she asked, looking up.

"I've been helping out, but Ginny's only got me doing the littlest things. She's put up this board filled with notes and stuff, and she gets so caught up sometimes I think she forgets where she is. I think Luna's feeling slightly guilty that Ginny's doing all the work," Harry said, a little awkwardly.

Everyone had been shocked to hear that Ginny had not chosen Hermione to be her Maid of Honour. Oddly, she looked quite relieved and only slightly offended when Ginny broke the news. Ginny had apologized profusely to her after seeing everyone's reactions, explaining that she had promised Luna the title (Luna looked surprised at these words). Hermione merely waved away her apologies, assuring her that it was completely okay, acting so cheerfully in fact, that she had convinced everyone by the time she had to leave. Ron and Ginny had had a fight about it later that night, however; Ron was insisting that Ginny should make Hermione Maid of Honour because it "only made sense," as she was the groom's best friend and the best man's girlfriend. Ginny in turn had yelled at him that she, the bride, had already decided and that he had no right to tell her who her Maid of Honour should be.

"Well, you know better than I do that when Ginny puts her mind up to something, sooner or later it's going to happen," she said. "My earrings're going to be the Something Borrowed, aren't they?"

Ginny had included a few Muggle customs in the wedding plans. One of them was the tradition that the bride should wear something old, something blue, something borrowed, and something new.

"I think so. She never really told me, she just ordered me to get them from you tomorrow and that was when Ron started choking," Harry said, examining Hermione's face closely as he added, "how are things with you two, anyway?"

He held her gaze firmly, sensing that she would change the subject.

"We're good! So tell me more about the wedding, is it true Celestina Warbeck's going to perform?" she said, a little too brightly.

"No, you don't. Tell me what's wrong, Hermione," he said, looking at her in concern. He had been worried about the pair of them lately; weeks have passed since he saw Hermione for longer than five minutes and it seemed like Ron wasn't doing any better. He was more irritable these days, ready to lash out at the slightest provocation. Harry rather resented this side of Ron, and had learned to avoid him whenever Ron was on one of his strops.

"But nothing is wrong, Harry! Ron and I are fine!" Hermione said, a little too forcefully.

"All right then, if you say so," Harry said, backing down but not quite believing her.

She sighed.

"I'm sorry. We are fine…. We're just…going through a rough patch, that's all. It's completely normal." She tried for a smile.

These 'rough patches,' however, were happening much too often for Harry's liking. It wasn't just Hermione and Ron's usual bickering anymore— he felt that whatever his two friends were going through, a few of Ron's jokes wouldn't be able to fix it anymore.

"That's good, then. How's work? Have they given you a case yet?"

"It's wonderful! They made me read through some of their more interesting cases, and you wouldn't believe how horrible some of them were, Harry!"

A month ago, Hermione had come to the Burrow and surprised them all with the news that the Ministry had offered her a high-ranking position within the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Amidst the cries of "Congratulations!" and hugs, however, she surprised them all further by announcing that she had rejected the offer, but with the compromise of taking a job that was considerably lower than the one she was supposed to take. She explained that she would be more like an intern, instead of a proper employee.

"I bet I'd learn loads! I could work my way up and by the time I'm ready to be Head, I'd know everything to do with the job then!" she had gushed excitedly, as the rest of them exchanged exasperated looks.

Back in the Grangers' quiet kitchen, Harry watched her as she spoke animatedly. This was the most lively he had seen her all evening. He took the opportunity and threw himself completely into the conversation, ignoring her slightly bemused looks as he asked her questions and reacted with uncharacteristic interest. Her stories were actually intriguing. He was horrified when she told him about a wizard who had gotten himself stuck half-human half-newt while illegally practicing Animagism, and guffawed when he heard about witch who had her nose hairs curled after trying to enchant a curling iron. He found it a relief not having to talk about anything remotely close to silverware, and he could sense that Hermione too, was glad that the subject of her and Ron's relationship had been dropped.

"Harry, what time is it?"

He and Hermione had been so engrossed in their conversation that they had forgotten about the time. He pulled out the pocket watch he had received on his seventeenth birthday. His heart sank when he saw that it was almost one in the morning.

"Blimey, it's late. I'm surprised Ron hasn't come charging up here yet."

"We'd better go get the earrings, Harry," Hermione said, jumping down from the stool and placing their long empty mugs into the sink. "Come on."

He followed her up a flight of stairs, emerging into another long hallway. Instead of photographs, plaques and awards hung on the walls. There were so many that Harry could not make out the colour of the walls behind them. Hermione walked past two or three more doors before reaching the one at the end of the corridor. She turned the knob and went inside, leaving the door open behind her.

Unsure whether he was allowed to come in, Harry hovered by the doorway.

Hermione's room was painted a pleasant shade of light blue. Shelves were installed on three of the four walls, all of them packed to bursting with books. The wall that wasn't, however, was filled with photographs upon photographs; many of them, if not most, seemed to be of her, Ron, and Harry at Hogwarts. There was a picture of them in the Gryffindor common room, laughing uproariously. Another that looked to be a few years later, sitting under the beech tree by the lake. Ron was messing up his hair, Hermione was reading, and Harry was grinning for some reason. There were many, many more, and he could not understand where she had gotten them. He had never even seen her use a camera before.

"Er…Hermione?" he said, tentatively.

"Hmm? Come in here," she said, pointing at the chair that stood by a table laden with yet more books. She was rummaging through the depths of her dresser, finally coming up with a little black jewellery box. "Aha!"

"Hermione, where'd you get all these pictures?" Harry asked her.

"Oh…erm..." Her expression turned sober. "I got those from Colin Creevey. I saw him looking at his prints and I asked if he could give some to me. He used to mail them over to me through Muggle post."

Harry nodded, remembering the little blond boy who had admired him so very much. Colin was hardly ever seen without his camera, snapping away. He had been among those who died in the battle, having sneaked in from Hogsmeade despite being underage.

There was silence for a few minutes. Harry found that he was glad Hermione had them. They were concrete evidence that three of them had used to spend all their free time together; which, he reflected sadly, had stopped being the case for almost a year.

"Well, here you are," Hermione said, approaching him with the emerald studs nestled in her open palm. She had worn these to Harry's eighteenth birthday party, looking embarrassed as everyone complimented her about them, and praising Ron for his thoughtfulness. Spluttering incoherently, the latter denied his involvement, looking very sorry as he did so.

Hermione flicked her wand, conjuring a little velvet box to encase them. She handed it to Harry, who tucked it safely into his jacket's inside pocket. Harry stood. Hermione was already starting towards the hall.

"You should go, Harry. It's late. "

He spoke without thinking.

"Hermione—will you go to Godric's Hollow with me?"

Hermione stopped walking abruptly, turning slowly to face Harry.

"What?"

"Will you go to Godric's Hollow with me?" he repeated.

"What—now?" she said, looking puzzled. "No, no, not now…Just….soon, before the wedding." Harry said, looking at her beseechingly. "Please?"

Hermione sighed. Harry crossed his fingers behind his back, hoping she'd say yes. She stared at him.

"I don't get it, Harry. Why don't you just ask Ginny to go with you?"

Harry took in her words. Why didn't he just ask Ginny? It made more sense. After all, she was his fiancée, and wouldn't it be prudent to visit his parent's graves with the girl who would soon be their daughter-in-law? The thing was, Harry found visiting his parent's graves intensely private; so much, that he had never brought Ginny nor anyone else with him before. The only person whom he had ever visited them with was Hermione, back when he had gone to Godric's Hollow for the first time. Harry felt that he could not bear to go there with anyone else; not when he was so jangled with thoughts and nerves about the upcoming wedding.

"I— I can't, she's too busy. I'll take her as soon as the wedding's over, I promise. In the meantime, will you please come?" He looked at her pleadingly.

She stared at him for a few more moments, her expression unreadable. After another minute, her face cleared.

"Of course I will. You know that, Harry." She said finally and he breathed a sigh of relief. "When do you want to go?"

"Whenever you're free, I suppose. Chief Stonehill's given me an entire month off for wedding preparations. It's ridiculous."

Hermione considered him for a few seconds. "What about tomorrow afternoon?"

Harry gaped at her.

"Tomorrow afternoon? But Hermione— it's Friday! You have work tomorrow afternoon!"

She smiled at his outburst. "It's okay, Harry. I'll just take half the day off, tell them I'm sick. They'll believe me—I have been looking pretty awful for the past week."

Harry couldn't speak. Anyone who knew Hermione Granger knew what a mark it was that she would willingly skive off an entire afternoon of work.

"But—you—why?" He spluttered.

She laughed. "Consider it an early wedding gift."

And with that, she took his arm and led him off to her porch for him to Disapparate back to the Burrow.