a/n: I've had this sitting in my hard drive for about two years so I polished it up and feel comfortable with publishing it now.

Title comes from The National. As always, feedback is deeply appreciated.

–

'it takes an ocean not to break'

–

From the moment Harry Potter and Hermione Granger announced their engagement the most important question became: Children, when will they have them?

In fact, some reports claimed the marriage was to cover up an unwanted pregnancy. Other, (more far fetched), wizarding magazines reported that Harry and Hermione were already parents to multiple offspring.

However, in actuality they decided to get married because, well, they quite liked each other, (even if she stole his socks and he never put the lid on the toothpaste). Besides, it was always a sort of inevitable thing from day one and there was no point resisting anymore.

They supposed the uproar was particularly awful because Ron and Luna had welcomed their first child, Lennon, into the world. They hadn't been married, much to Molly Weasley's dismay, but they weren't exactly the poster family for normalcy anyway.

But seeing as one member of the trio had managed to spawn an heir it was rather decided that the other two should jump on the bandwagon as soon as possible.

They married on the summer solstice. She wore a white dress and he wore his best dress robes, black and not green. Her mother cried the entire ceremony and Mrs. Weasley clutched her husband's hand so tight he lost all feeling in his extremities.

There were no Death Eaters nor any Marauders, but it still managed to feel like old times. When Harry and his bride left for their honeymoon almost every Weasley had too much to drink and Luna was dancing alone again. They smiled at this display, thinking things were perfectly okay for the first time in years.

–

Six months.

It took all of six months for the press to be back at their doorstep, speculating on children and the future of the Potter family line. Harry knew that Hermione was devoted to her work and they weren't exactly getting old anytime soon, so they had delayed any attempt to begin a family. He didn't mind, the thought of being a father terrified him. He hadn't had one so how on earth could he manage to raise a child?

Hermione, on the other hand, was the most nurturing person he knew, (not counting Molly Weasley). She always seemed to be tending to her friends with such intense care that sometimes Harry was baffled why she chose to marry him out of all the other options she had.

After six months of living off horrible cooking and untidy piles of books, Harry had put his foot down and called Kreacher to live in with them full time. The old elf had taken much more to Hermione after the war ended and dinners became much better with him around. Harry had started to raise Teddy Lupin along with Andromeda, as she was aging and without Ted around it sometimes became overwhelming for her.

He didn't mind because Teddy was a good baby for the most part- his bright blue hair and golden eyes were the norm and he didn't much like to change his appearance to go out in public. Generally they spent their time in the remodeled Grimauld Place.

"Oh, Harry, you're going to ruin him with those sweets." Hermione sighs as she walks into the den, finding her husband offering his godson a chocolate frog. He grins at her with his crooked smile that she could never resist.

"He's staying with us tonight, so it's not like Andromeda has to deal with the sugar rush." He winked, smiling down at the toddler. "Isn't that right, Teddy? I won't let this mean lady keep the chocolate away."

Hermione smacks the back of her husband's head and Teddy finds this quite amusing.

"Oy! And you say I'm the bad influence here!" Harry exclaims, faking an expression of indignation.

After they crawl into bed that night, she turns to the messy haired man lying next to her, his bright green eyes reflecting the moonlight outside.

"I want to start trying, Harry." She breathes gently and his lazy expression shifts immediately into confusion. "I want to have a baby." Her words are heavy in his chest and he raises an eyebrow at her and she sighs.

"I know we said we'd wait and we have. Besides, Teddy is going to be three soon so it's not like there'd be two babies around." She curled her fingers around his hand, "I want to be a mom. Luna and Ginny are always going on about their children and I want that. I want us to have that." She whispers in honesty and he gives her a small smile.

"Any chance we can start tonight?" He asks, giving a mischievous wink and she laughs before kissing him deeply.

–

The first time she performs the charm and it comes out negative she rationalizes it, because plenty women took a few months to become pregnant. The second, third, and fourth time she gets a negative she tells herself that maybe she needs fertility treatments.

Each month her period comes is another month Harry finds her in the kitchen doing housework, trying not to think of the possibility that she would never be a mother. She scrubs so hard that her hands are raw and he picks her up off the floor.

"It's going to happen, love, I just know it." He whispers into her hair, kissing her temples gently and holding her tightly.

The tabloids are the worst part, always wondering if her slightest weight gain is the sign of a Potter baby. Hermione is a strong woman, she knows this about herself, but when the sixth pregnancy test shows that she is again without child she breaks down, sobbing in the bathroom floor. She doesn't understand what's wrong with her.

"I don't want to try anymore. Not for a little while." She admits that night as Harry runs his fingers through her unruly hair.

"Okay." He replies softly, because he thinks that she's driving herself mad in pursuit of a child and he just wants her to feel happy again.

She doesn't tell him that she scheduled an appointment at St. Mungo's because she doesn't want him to think she's desperate. The healer gives a pitying expression when she tells Hermione the odds of her carrying a child to full term were slight at best.

When she arrives home she finds Harry bouncing Teddy Lupin in her arms and blinks back the tears threatening to escape. She wonders if maybe having Teddy a few nights out of the week will be enough for her. She knows somewhere deep down that it might be enough, but she can't stop picturing Harry's child with his dark hair and her brown eyes.

–

She wakes up in a wave of nausea, running to the bathroom the irrational thought enters her mind. What if- after she leaves the toilet she grabs her wand in shaking fingers and performs the spell, the positive result flashes in front of her and she raises a shaking hand to her mouth.

Pregnant. She's pregnant.

"Harry!" She calls shakily from the bathroom, her mind racing, "Harry!"

Her response comes from a very sleepy Harry Potter, who managed to stumble out of bed and into the bathroom.

"You okay, love?" It takes him all of two seconds to take in the bright smile on her face.

"I'm pregnant!" She exclaims, throwing her arms around his neck and burying her face in his shoulder, laughing and crying. He grins and squeezes her close to his chest.

"I knew we could do it." He whispers against her mane of curls.

Hermione begins to plan the nursery almost immediately, clearing out the room next to theirs and Harry watches with a bemused expression.

They tell their friends at Harry's birthday dinner and there's a lot of backslapping and hugs and crying and Hermione has never felt more content in her life.

–

In the middle of painting one of the nursery walls she feels a slight pain in her abdomen, which then turns into a stabbing pain. She falls to the floor, her hands clutching at her stomach, calling for Harry. He finds her curled into a ball, the front of her clothes stained with a deep red color he's too familiar with.

"I..." But there were no words that Hermione could form, her grief was beyond tears, but Harry knew what had happened. Two months of wild daydreams for a child and now that light was diminished.

Harry cradled her body carefully, carrying her to their room. She was numb all over, her hands shaking violently and her body racking with sobs as he tries to clean her up and put her to bed.

"Why is this happening to us?" She asks as he puts her under their covers, her brown eyes are still wet with tears and Harry doesn't know what to do.

"I don't know, Hermione." It's honest and that's what she needs, "I love you, no matter what." He whispers gently and she nods against him, tears spilling once again as he pulls back.

–

There are two more pregnancies that year, but she doesn't tell Harry because she loses the baby within the first month in both cases. Life goes on for her, she helps raise Teddy Lupin and furthers her legislation on house elf rights. She begins to withdraw from Harry, because his green eyes remind her of what could have been and what she can't give to him.

It's months and months of walking on ice, both afraid they're going to say or do something that will plunge back into a state of despair. Hermione's smiles become less frequent and Harry spends more and more hours at the Ministry.

He comes home early one night, hoping to surprise her for her birthday but instead finds her mopping up blood in the kitchen and his heart sinks. He bends down to take the sponge from her and do it himself but she pulls back in anger.

"I can do this, Harry, it's not my first time." The words slip out and he realizes in horror that this has happened more than once and he's not been around to help her. She's kept her pain and grief hidden from him and everyone else for all this time. It strikes him that this the first time he feels like he's failed as a husband.

"How.. how many have there been, Hermione?" His voice shakes with the barest hint of anger and she looks up at him, her expression cloudy.

"This is the third since the first time." She whispers, her entire body sagging under the grief.

His expression falls, "Why didn't you tell me? I'm your husband! I was their... their.." but the word 'father' just won't come out and she looks up at him with her own anger.

"Because the healer told me that I would probably never carry to full term. I couldn't bare to see you go through it again." Her hands are shaking, covered in suds, "Because you have a defective Mudblood wife who can't even give you a child!" She yells at him, and he feels like he's been slapped across the face with the viciousness of her words.

"I don't care if we never have a child, but this is destroying you, Hermione." He says quietly, taking her face in his hands. "Maybe.. maybe you need to get away for a little while. Away from here."Away from me hangs in the air but she hears it anyway.

She packs her bags and heads to her parents home that night and Harry is left to a large drafty home, feeling just as lost and hopeless as he had when he was seventeen.

–

They spend three months dodging each other at work. She finally feels more like her old self again, given the steady diet of tea and her mum's warm cookies. Harry finds himself a mess, sometimes getting drunk enough to destroy the walls of the nursery and sometimes too depressed to move from theden.

Andromeda doesn't let Teddy stay over as much and Hermione hears from Ron that Harry is quickly becoming the worst employee the Ministry has seen in many, many years.

She once had felt that when the war ended Harry would at best become an alcoholic and at worst lose his mind. She wonders if maybe he would've if she hadn't found him at the back of one of the countless funerals they'd attended and simply took his hand in hers, and that one motion was enough for him to know. He always seemed to just know.

"It isn't either of your faults, sweetie." Her mum says over afternoon tea at a cafe Hermione had frequented as a teenager in the breaks between learning about runes and potions.

She knows that, she does. "I'm the smartest witch of my age, I was top of my class, I saved the world, I-" She chokes for a second, "I married Harry Potter. All he's ever deserved is a family and I can't even give him that."

Instead of crying, she turns to look out at the London winter and sigh, wondering what her husband might be doing right now. She doesn't cry as much anymore, it's a sadness that weighs too heavily on the mind for tears to be enough to assuage the pain.

"He has a family, Hermione," Her mum places a hand over her daughter's gently, "He has you. And Teddy. And all those Weasley's."

Hermione chuckles at that, "But, what if that is never enough, mum? What if we can't get through this?"

There's a pause and then Mrs. Granger looks her child straight in the eye, "Hermione Granger, you defeated the most evil wizard to ever live, you put back together a man who should've been destroyed, and you did all of it with nothing but love in your heart, why on earth would you think that would change now?"

"I don't know, mum, I honestly don't." She sighs, pulling her cold tea cup to her lips, the cheery peppermint flavor is almost too much for her to swallow.

The company Christmas party is always awkward, there are too many grudges that run too deep. Anyone who could be related to someone who fought with Voldemort might as well keep their heads down and save up to move abroad.

At this point in the year, Harry and Hermione would be packing some things to go stay with the Weasley's or the Granger's and they'd be humming Christmas carols and wrapping little trinkets for everyone else. They would be happy.

However, now they stood as two strangers on opposite ends of the room, avoiding eye contact and forcing smiles at their friends.

Hermione looks brittle, he can see the outlines of her wrists and elbows with clear definition, her eyes dark from nights without sleep. He looks just as messy, dirty hair and wrinkled clothes, his hands shaking from withdrawls.

They both get too drunk off the minister's punch recipe and he follows her into a broom closet, her mouth on his before he can speak.

"Fuck, Hermione," He hisses, his hands in her hair and mouth on her collarbone.

She sighs into him, her dress already hiked up to her bellybutton, hands fumbling for his belt. There aren't any words from either of them - it's better that way. Her hand works its way down his pants and wraps around his cock, moving up and down rhythmically.

Her breasts are smaller than he remembers under his mouth as he flicks her left nipple with his tongue; her long and unruly hair covers her shoulders and there is suddenly too much of her he wants to taste.

Pulling her hand from his pants, she reaches to tug off her knickers and leads him gently to her opening. He moves in slowly, and she moans quietly into his ear, one of her hands wrapped so tightly in his hair he thinks she might rip it out.

"God, I've missed you so much," He breathes, pushing himself into her fully.

But then the moment is over and she's pushing him away from her and collecting herself. He stands, rumpled and confused, but mostly heartbroken.

"Why did you have to say anything?" She sighs tiredly, moving to open the door and return to the party.

She leaves her husband and his shaking fingers alone in the claustrophobic confines of a broom cupboard.

Teddy turns four without much fanfare, he gets a bright green cake and he changes his hair to match. Harry shows up sober because he has some tact after all, and Hermione drops by briefly to give Teddy a present and a hug and promises to see him soon.

She doesn't look at Harry. He doesn't look at her.

Life goes on.

Until one morning he wakes up and decides he doesn't particularly care if it does anymore or not. He's managed to destroy the entire nursery, all the little details Hermione had painted onto the walls are now blurred with burn hexes and slashes. He thinks back to how they had rebuilt this house from the inside out together, how proud Sirius would've been, how disappointed he must be now.

If there's one thing Harry's pretty good at it's disappointing people. That's what happens when the media stamps you with the title of 'hero' before you're old enough to know you're even a person.

So he sits in the nursery, rocking back and forth in the chair that once belonged to Hermione's mum. The bag of aconite clutched in his hand is easy to open, he pulls some of the plant he's stolen from work out and carefully puts it in his mouth.

The taste is bitter and disgusting and he washes it down with the firewhiskey he's been nursing all night.

And after a few minutes the Boy Who Lived leans his head back and closes his eyes and isn't even afraid that this is the end.

When opens his eyes everything is out of focus, but he would recognize the tangled bushy ponytail hovering above him anywhere. He wishes he could lift his hand to touch it.

"Hermione?" He tries to say but instead the words come out more like, 'Hermy?'

She exhales sharply and he feels her cold fingers wrap around his. His mouth is so dry, bone dry. This can't be Heaven. And they aren't in King's Cross.

"Thank god," She says quickly, still holding onto his hand.

He moves his head with lethargy, taking in the familiar hospital room at St. Mungo's. There isn't anyone else in the long room of pristinely made up beds. There isn't even a healer in sight. It's just Hermione above him, like an angel.

"What're you doing here?" He asks sluggishly, his mouth doesn't feel like it's part of his face anymore. They must've pumped him full of sedatives.

Her eyebrows furrow, "I'm your next of kin, Harry. That's who they tend to floo when someone's spouse decides to eat aconite for dinner!"

Suddenly she's Hogwarts Hermione, her voice reminds him of nights she lectured him for not doing his homework or pulled an essay of his hand to proof read it. It's her worried voice. He never thought he'd hear it again.

"How-" How did I get here? He wants to ask but he's so tired and they're so many words to force out. He just inhales deeply instead.

"Andromeda was bringing Teddy by to show you how he looked in the outfit you gave him for his birthday," She says because she's knows him, even when he doesn't know what to say, "I don't... Harry, I don't know if she'll let you see him again until you get help."

Looking up at her, she's less blurry from before, the drugs are slowly wearing off and he blinks a few times before motioning towards the water on his bedside table.

"Do the others-"

"Just Ron and Luna. I promised them I would let them know when you wanted to see them. You need to rest." Her hands are on his forehead.

Her mouth trembles for the hint of a second, "I'm sorry, Harry. I only ever wanted to make you happy."

You did make me happy, He wants to say, You were my future and that was enough for me. He wants to scream at her, wants to shake her until she understands.

Instead he just leans into her touch and brings his cracked lips to her skin tenderly.

"It's going to be hard, Harry," Her voice wavers, "Really hard, you're going into detox and then you'll have to start healing emotionally."

He runs a hand through her hair easily, his fingers instinctively remember how to navigate her curls. She still smells like vanilla, just like she had at Remus' funeral when she came to him and told him with nothing more than a look that she was going to put him back together.

He didn't know if she could do that again. Or if she would even want to.

"I don't care," He finally manages, his throat burning with each word, "I don't care about any of it, I only care about you."

As her hand starts to leave his skin, he slides his fingers over her thin wrists, "Stay."

"Okay." She says quietly, because he's Harry and he's asking for her help and when has she ever been able to walk away from that?

"I love you, even when you don't love yourself." He whispers into her hair later as she lays against his side and holds his twitching hands in her own.

"I love you, even when you don't trust yourself." She breathes back, freeing one had to push his glasses up his nose. He's clammy and smells like vomit and sweat but she stays by his side because this is where she belongs, it's always where she's supposed to be.

She stops taking the fertility treatments the same night he attends his first AA meeting. They aren't ready for a child anymore, and perhaps they would never be, and that felt okay.

The tabloids focus more on his alcohol addiction and forget all about bringing children into the world.

When he gets out of rehab they don't let Molly organize a big dinner, instead she brings him back to their home, where she asks Kreature to put on some stew before leading him up the stairs to the room that's haunted them both.

The door swings open easily and the inside is no longer the scarred remains he'd left. There is a little bed and dresser, and some trainsets here and there and sitting in the middle of the floor playing with them is Teddy, his hair the usually bright turquoise.

"Harry!" He squeals, running straight for his godfather's legs. Harry reaches down and pulls Teddy up easily. His hands don't shake anymore now.

"Hey bud. I missed you! You've grown at least four inches since I've last scene you."

"Five," Teddy corrects automatically and it makes Harry laugh.

Later that night after Teddy has been picked up by Andromeda, Harry lays in his own bed next to his wife for the first time in nearly a year, his arms wrap around her automatically.

"Is this enough?" He asks. She knows what he means though: Am I enough? Is Teddy enough? Are we enough?

She rolls over to look at him and she smiles softly, "I think we'll be okay."

Which is good enough for him as he leans forward and kisses her slowly.

"Thank you for putting me back together again." He says, and she reaches a hand up to trace his face.

"We're going to be okay, Harry," He closes his eyes under her touch, "We're going to be okay."