Disclaimer : Harry Potter is JKR's.

A/N. This story has been plaguing me since reading DH. I ship HHr and fell hard after reading the Epilogue. Writing it was part of my bereavement process.

Fair warning, I stuck with Canon outcomes in this one. I bit the bullet, including the Epilogue, and those who have read my fics know I'm not the typical Harmony writer. If you want happy HHr don't read this.

All I can say is this provides more details that JKR's epilogue LOL!

The Sacrifice

1 September 2017

An almost indiscernible faint pop interrupted the silence of the night in the quiet neighbourhood of One Pine Hill in the outskirts of London. In the dark, beside a backyard garden shed, a cloaked figure had just appeared out of thin air. She looked around to be certain that she was alone and that her defensive and protective spells remained undisturbed before she put a wooden sticklike figure out of sight.

Hermione Granger uncovered her bushy brown hair and made her way to the modest abode she had called home for more than a decade, feeling a tightness in her chest as she realized this would be one of the last few times she would be walking this path. She let the tears fall, unconcerned, knowing she would arrive home and would be alone.

Two Nordmann fir trees stood firm and strong flanking the corners of the wrap around porch, illuminated by the bright moonlight just as she had imagined they would be when they were planted. They had at one point adorned their family room as Christmas trees, the first one put in when Rose, her eldest, was almost a year old, precocious even then, helping dig into the soil weeks following her first ever holidays. She was three when they did the same to mark Hugo's. It was not that long ago, and she could remember vividly how funny it was that Rose was trying to tell her perplexed ten month old brother what could happen if he didn't stop putting earth into his mouth. The trees were young, sturdy, well rooted, with buds about to branch out and all the space of the sky to grow into, just as she knew Rose was and she hoped Hugo would be.

That morning, it broke her heart to watch her now eleven year old daughter in Hogwarts robes waving goodbye to them at Kings Cross. She thought it cruel that parents should have to go through that, though she knew it had to be. The excitement on her face made up for it, and while Rose was like her in a lot of ways, sometimes too brainy and opinionated for her own good, her daughter was somewhat less annoying than she remembered herself to be and would have her cousins, James and Al, to look after her at Hogwarts.

She was trying to hold back the tears so Rose would not see as the train pulled away from the station. It was good that Ron was there, taking her hand in his, enduring her death grip, returning it, trying to reassure her that Rose would be fine. She told him as she finally let the tears fall after the train left that it wasn't Rose that she was worried about. Ron laughed with her, said something about how time passed by so quickly and they embraced, sharing the parent milestone of letting go with grace, or at least trying to.

They had remained friends even after they separated a few months after Hugo was born, deciding that while constant bickering was something the both of them could endure, they couldn't stay together and let the children see them that way. After some resistance, Ron finally gave her what she had wanted even before Hugo came along; her freedom.

Ron loved her and she loved him; that was never the problem. What they went through at Hogwarts before and during those months they planned, searched and destroyed the Horcruxes brought that out in the open. It was just too bad they couldn't change the way they were with one another. And while their marriage may have been a mistake, she had no regrets. If they had not married they wouldn't be standing on the platform that day seeing off the most amazing girl they created and raised together. Ron was a devoted father and a wonderful friend. He remarried five years ago, another Muggle-born and the last time she asked he was happy.

It must have been close to midnight. Hermione had been at the Ministry clearing her desk and lost track of time. She told the Minister today that she was leaving and she was going to serve him her official two weeks notice tomorrow, her resignation irrevocable, stepping down as Undersecretary and Chief Advisor for Detection and Defence Against the Dark Arts. For good measure, in the past month she made sure he had plenty of reasons to let her go.

While she was a vital cog in the Post Voldemort revolutionized Ministry of Magic, no one was indispensable. It was peacetime, she had achieved all her career goals, which was quite astonishing and sad at the same time considering she was only thirty-seven. It was a good time to step down on her terms and find something more challenging. The only reason why she would need to stick around for another decade or so was if she wanted to become the first female, first Muggle-born and youngest Minister for Magic, a position she had no desire for. And as time wore on it became apparent that she couldn't stay.

As she approached the back porch, the tiny hairs on the back of her neck tingled. Years of previous experience as an Auror alerted her that someone was watching. She casually fumbled in her purse, giving the impression that she was looking for something as she magically scanned her perimeter, thankful that Hugo was over at her Mum's. She drew out her wand and pointed where she detected the presence, holding back the curse she had intended to fire as she heard a familiar voice.

"Whatever happened to constant vigilance?" he said, his visit quite unexpected, "If I were a Death Eater you'd be dead by now."

Hermione lowered her wand and a man emerged from the shadows to meet her at the steps. Harry Potter, now Ministry Head Auror, the boy with the scar who rid the world of arguably the most evil Dark Wizard of all time, was standing a few feet from where she stood. His dark hair was as unruly as the day they met some twenty-five years ago, his green eyes kind as always and he greeted her with a smile that made her heart skip a beat every time. Harry had long ago dispensed of his spectacles and the scar on his forehead was barely visible unless one looked really closely.

There would be no need to ask him personal questions to verify who he was. She knew him too well she didn't have to.

"If you were a Death Eater, I'd tell you you're nineteen years too late to join the fray," she quipped back. "Go find yourself another gang."

They embraced, tight and snug, longer than the perfunctory one they had earlier that day on Platform 9 ¾ when they saw their children off to Hogwarts. She stepped away guiltily thinking that was much longer than they really should. Sometimes she wondered whether the brief demonstrations of affection were worth the torture they put themselves through.

"Seriously, it's not funny," he reminded her, "There are people out there who'd like to get to you and Ron. Rose and Hugo could have been here."

She thought it ironic that eons ago that would have been her line. But then Harry was a family man. He lived this every day. Shaking up the Ministry since joining it following Voldemort's defeat had earned all of them enemies with no definite faces or affiliations, Harry more than her and Ron, but he was nevertheless right. It would only take one disaster to happen and a lifetime to regret it.

"I'll take care of it," she said just to get him off her back; there would be no need for the house would be vacated within a few days and Hugo would be at her Mum's until their trip.

They stood for quite some time just looking at each other with a gravity reminiscent of their last talk the night after his most recent birthday. She hadn't yet and she was thinking about telling him what she was about to do. Sensing his eventual displeasure, she had put it off for so long, making Ron promise he wouldn't tell anyone until she was good and ready to start answering questions.

She was never going to be ready to say goodbye to him for how does one say goodbye to someone they loved?

A deep throbbing discomfort erupted from within her chest, an absolute anguish as she thought about distancing herself from the man who would always own her heart. It was more painful than what she felt during moments when she thought of him and knew for a fact that they could never be together, at least not the way that she had wanted them to be.

Occasionally, during fits of loneliness, she would fantasize it still possible, but reality always burst that bubble. He was married, happily, finally living his heart's desire, with children and a wife who adored him. If anyone deserved such happiness it would be him, and knowing what he had endured in his lifetime, she was the last person who would get in the way of that.

At one point in time she thought it promising that she could be a part of it, of what he wanted in life. Not anymore. She no longer wished it because it could never be. It would be like going back time and time again to look into the Mirror of Erised. Her heart's desire was an impossibility and continuing to think it was a futile exercise. She had two children and a full life to live. She was determined not to waste it hoping for what she could not have.

That morning, the image of the Potter family walking up to meet them at Platform 9 ¾ crushed her insides and almost sent her into tears. This difficult decision to move away from the haven of the Weasley-Potter clan was making her very emotional. Kids usually distracted her from her depressing thoughts but it did not help to see Rose and Al beside each other, splitting copies of her and him when they first met years ago, taking her back to the time when neither of them were aware that the friendship they would eventually develop would be one fraught with complications.

Hermione waited, sensing he had a thought he wanted to discuss, the reason for his late night visit. Better his first than hers.

"I've heard rumours," he said to her, probing, and she was certain her eyes would betray her.

She did not answer. He knew. At least that saved her from having to come up with how to break the news to him gently.

"So, it is true. You finally did it," he said calmly, resigned that it was a done deal.

To his credit he had not lost his temper as she imagined he would, considering this was something he would have expected her to talk to him about first. After all, they were best friends; they were supposed to tell each other everything; almost everything. It was good that Harry knew better than to get angry. She had mentioned it to him a few times before, and each time she did, he gave her reasons why it wasn't time. While she allowed herself to be swayed those times, ultimately, it was her decision to make and hers alone.

"Yes. I did."

"When?"

"This morning," she replied, "Officially I'm around for another two weeks but I've cleared my desk and I've pissed the Minister royally I doubt he'd need me."

"I should have known you were going to do something like this," Harry said, "You've been burning quite a lot of bridges lately."

"I always wanted a fiery exit," she half-joked, trying to lighten up their conversation; didn't work.

"I guess you got sick and tired of me telling you not to. Where are you off to?" his gaze was piercing, observing, like she had seen him do countless times during interrogation, or when he sensed she was trying to hide something from him.

"A trip, see interesting places, visit some friends, family, get some needed R and R," she rattled off, hoping sheer volume would make it more believable.

"With Hugo?"

"Yes. He's quite excited."

"How long?"

"A month, maybe longer."

"And after?"

She hesitated, and that was all he needed.

"Your house is packed. You're not staying in London after, are you?"

The movers came earlier and magically transported the furniture and boxes away. He noticed the empty house, probably through the window. There was very little she could keep from him. He knew her too well, and it struck her hard that no other person ever would, even if she let them. An aching sensation was stuck in her throat.

"I need the change, Harry."

"This is a big change, bigger than what you asked of me."

Hermione bowed her head, seeking relief from his inquisition, rubbing off tears before they could fall down her cheeks. She told him the night after his birthday that they couldn't meet like this anymore, on their own, in the middle of the night. He was taken aback, not expecting the request, for it was something they had gotten accustomed to for the past nine years. It was a big change for them.

They were not doing anything wrong after all, and Ginny, his loving wife of thirteen years, knew he was off to see Hermione most times. He would bring the kids, sometimes when Ginny worked, when she needed quiet time or had errands to do. And during the times it seemed too late to see Hermione by himself, the understanding wife that she was she presumed if he went to see her it would be about work or about Ron. Ginny trusted Harry implicitly. For while he had Ginny and Ginny was a wonderful listener, just like their search for the Horcruxes and his then task to finish off Voldemort, there were some things he could not share with her. And as frustrated as Ginny had been in the past about that, she had come to accept it.

Sometimes their talks were about work but not always. They talked about the children, parenting, Ginny, her parents, Ron and the rare boy friend she had after they split, as best friends would. It wasn't in any pattern of regularity, but spontaneously, he would ring her to see if he could come, even if it was just a quick meeting at her office, having lunch together at her desk or showing up unannounced like tonight.

A few times she would do the same, ask him to come over, just to hear some rant, or get his perspective on something, or invite him to one of the children's school affairs. One time, Hugo had a bad spill off his toy broom and Harry stayed with her at St. Mungo's as the Healers took a long time to set him right. He spoiled and treated her children like any good uncle would, sometimes as if they were his own. Hermione thought this was probably because he felt a bit sorry for them, for being part of a fragmented family.

What concerned Hermione was with the kids grown, their talks on their own had recently become more frequent and she sensed a disquiet within him that she selfishly wanted to encourage but knew she shouldn't. A couple of months ago, gossip and speculation about them became rampant and while Ginny had assured them that she was above all that and knew they were just friends, history taught Hermione that prudence was the better part of valour. They talked the day after his birthday and she was able to convince him that it was for the best, though he was quite unhappy being hostage to what other people thought.

Hermione reminded Harry that they went through this years ago and got their priorities straight. They valued their children and their families the most. But keeping the press at bay for their families' peace was not the only reason she asked him to stay away. Weaning each other off the other's company was difficult, but hopefully it would help them both when she left. She should have done it years ago.

"You knew then that you were leaving."

She didn't have to explain anything to him.

"You don't have to do this. You don't have to leave."

"I need to, Harry, for myself," she retorted, with firmness and resolve, to convince him of it. "I've done what I can here and it's time to move on."

Hermione had rehearsed this line since she decided it was time to go, to the point that she almost believed it. But it was a lie, as big a lie as the one her leaving London was supposed to conceal. Quitting the Ministry was one thing; leaving London, her family and friends was another. It was the best excuse she could come up with, for she knew Harry would never stop her if she said she was doing it for herself. She prepared for the questions she knew he would ask, ready to answer with more fabrications and flat out lies.

"Where are you headed after your trip?"

"I'm accepting the Canadian Minister's offer to clean up their Ministry. I think I'll be in Ottawa for a long while."

"What about Hugo and Rose?"

"Hugo is coming with me," she replied, then added, "Rose can join us during the holidays she's not with Ron and Anne."

"Ron's okay with that?" Harry was sceptical.

"Yes, he is," she answered, "Look, we'll be around. It's not that we won't see each other anymore. And you and Ginny can come over and visit once we're settled."

"It'll be different here without you."

It will be different there without you. "It'll be fine."

It had to be. She had to have some hope that it would be.

"Ottawa is so far away. Lily will lose her best friend," he paused, for a moment looking boyish and juvenile as he added, "I'm losing mine."

She took his hand and squeezed it tight, "No, you're not. We'll always be best friends, Harry."

"Yeah. Always. Right."

Harry squeezed it back, as teary eyed as she was, biting his lip as he was about to say something. He pulled her gently into his arms and they held each other in an embrace, emotions heavy, even weightier in the still night when not even the sound of darkness could be heard.

She closed her eyes to commit the moment to memory as he broke the quiet, in a clear, sure voice, leaving no doubt about what he was saying, "I love you, Hermione. You know that, right?"

His words hung in the cool September air, piercing her chest in a slow agonizing motion, awaiting her reply. It was ironic how the very same words that a long time ago brought subconscious bliss now made her heart ache terribly. He hadn't said that in a while and she had hoped never to hear those words from him again.

"I do, Harry."

I love you, too.

He kissed her on the top of her head quickly and he would do no more, pulling away with the same bittersweet smile on his face she would have on hers. He said goodbye and she watched him turn and disappear right before her eyes.

Hermione walked to and sat on the swing, staring at the spot which had Harry's face just moments ago, rocking gently, and remembering his kiss.

That was how it started years ago, before he married Ginny and before she married Ron. Harry's brotherly kiss was meant to comfort her when it seemed her on-again-off-again relationship with Ron was really over. Hermione kissed him back in kind, sister-like, as Ginny, annoyed at his insistence to keep her in the dark about his work, had broken up with him, too.

Unexpectedly, it ignited a passionate physical relationship between them. They became lovers. She remembered that time, how liberating it was to be with each other completely, intimately, savouring each moment and wasting no time, feeling they had wasted so much time already. Both of them decided to selfishly keep it away from family, friend and public scrutiny at first, knowing the extent of the circus that would ensue, wanting to be on firmer footing when it happened.

Near the end, when they were just about ready to let their closest friends in on their little secret, he asked her to wear his mother's engagement ring. For one night she was his fiancée. Overwhelmed, she gave it back to him the morning of that fateful day when everything that could go wrong in her life did.

Then, it was over. The shock of it all was surreal and, for a time, it was as if the three idyllic months with him never happened. He married Ginny, his first true love, as he was supposed to. James came the year after. She married Ron then Al and Rose were born the following year. Lily and Hugo came two years later.

Alone, Hermione was crying heavily but silently, until she thought of Hugo and Rose. Uncontrollable sobs escaped from within her as she wondered if they would ever forgive her for breaking up their family further than it already was. She wondered if Harry would ever forgive her when he found out, for he would, eventually. She wondered if he could look past the deception to see that all she ever wanted was for him to have what he had longed for all his life, hoping he would realize they had already given up so much so he could have that.

Hugo, now nine, was more and more becoming his father's son. She doubted that once he attended Hogwarts, she could come and see him often enough to magically disguise his black hair and green eyes to the brown and brown everyone in the family, including Ron, knew him to have. More concerning to her was how noticeably so unlike hers and Ron's Hugo's personality was, and she could tell from knowing them both that it was Harry he had taken after. Somebody could easily pick that up. Hugo and Al would look and sound more like brothers than Al and James.

She could only imagine what Hugo would go through being Harry Potter's bastard. No mother would want that for her son and she did not have much of a choice. She had to take him away, far away from all that could hurt him, make him strong within first, arm him with the truth, and then allow him to choose if he wanted to come back, which she hoped he would.

Ron knew Hugo wasn't his. She told him when she found out she was pregnant but the true friend that he was he gave Hugo his name and treated him like his own son. He asked her once who the father was. She told him it was some married bloke and that it was over. Ron never asked again and both preferred the unspoken truth.

Rose, she wanted to take with them too but that would not be fair to Ron. She would try to see her often though she had a feeling that at some point, her daughter might not want to see her. She was the one Hermione felt most guilty about for this really had nothing to do with her. Rose did not know it yet but she was about to lose a lot for Hugo and for her Uncle Harry. If it were her she would detest the mother who made that decision for her. She hoped she raised her daughter with a bit more compassion that she had.

And Harry. That night ten years ago he came to her hurt and angry was the night Hugo was conceived. It was her fault. She shouldn't have let him. It distressed him even more after he came to realize that he cheated on Ginny, who was pregnant with Lily at that time, hating himself that he was thinking about leaving Ginny to be with her.

She set him right and told him straight off to forget her and go home. Ginny loved him and she knew he loved Ginny; they had two young boys, a daughter on the way; what was he thinking? She reminded him that he already had what he wanted and his duty was to hang on to it by living life as he envisioned he would. And she pointed out to him that they could never have what he and Ginny had and could have, not with so many people involved, people they cared about who would get hurt. They had to accept that their moment had past.

A scandal of an affair and an illicit child could ruin everything for Harry. That was why she never told him the truth about Hugo. Ginny would be hurt, his children would resent him and the whole world would feed off his misery. Ron would be humiliated and Rose would hate her. As for Hugo, he would be treated like an oddity, ostracized for his parentage and scrutinized like a freak for the same reason.

In a few years, Hermione hoped their children and their loved ones would be more forgiving and accepting, but right now, she had to protect them both. Hermione was going to take their son away, get settled, and then start looking forward to the day when they could come back.

A/N. Sorry, I couldn't help it. While this is a one shot for now just to appease my grief, I purposely wrote it in a way that it could be more. But I hope to finish TPP before seriously plotting the story out if people think it's worth reading an HHr story where they might not be together in the end.

Let me know what you think. Is it worth reading another 20 chapters of?

Addendum: It seems that after two weeks only 7 of those who have read it felt strongly enough to leave reviews and they have been mixed. I have to say that's not very encouraging but since I wrote it mostly for myself, I don't feel too badly. :)

5 June 2008 ...And more notes...So, I decided to make this one complete. The story does continue in The Keeper.