A/N: Just letting you know, this is a story about baseball. It's mostly a love story, but it does contain a little baseball.

This is my first foray into the wonderful world of fanfiction, so please give me a little mercy from your wrath.

The Game

Chapter 1-Pregame-November 3rd, 2002

Harry

I hold my jersey in my hands, tracing the red number 7 on the back. I bring it up to my nose and take a deep whiff, the familiar scent of clean grass and dirt invades my nostrils. I hear lockers slamming around me, and the clack of metal spikes on the locker room floor beats a rhythm on my eardrums. I throw my jersey on and pick up my glove, and run my hands over the cool, beaten leather, my only friend in The Game. I taste tears in my mouth, the salt attacks my tongue.

Not bothering to wipe the tears from my face, I clasp the locket around my neck, just like I've done every single game. I bring it up to my lips and kiss it, just like I've done every single game. I open it and look at the pictures, both of Hermione, just like I've done every single game. I tuck the locket under my undershirt and press it against my heart, just like I've done every single game. I slam my locker shut and punch it, which I've never done before.

I sit down on the bench and wipe away my tears; no outside emotions are allowed in The Game, or it will tear you apart. Nevertheless, I hear Hermione's words from five hours ago.

"Everything's about baseball! Everything! You care more about a game than you do me!"

"That's a lie! I love you! And it's more than just a game, it's my life!"

"Then make a choice, Harry. Me or the game. I can't live like this any more, I'm losing you to a game." Tears flow freely down her beautiful face.

"I want you, Hermione."

"Then promise me, right now. Promise me that this is your last game."

"I can't do that. Give me a week, and I can tell you. But not right now."

"No! I need an answer, now!"

"Please, Hermione! Just a week!"

"If you even need to think about it, then you don't love me like I love you. I'll give you one more chance."

We stand there for five minutes, I can't answer. Hermione rises up on her toes, kisses my cheek, and presses something into my hand. Her shrunken luggage is already in her pocket, she knew I wouldn't be able to answer.

She opens the door and hesitates; I can feel her gaze on my back. I don't turn around, and she whispers, "I love you, Harry."

Then she was gone.

I open my hand, already knowing what the object is. I let slide off my hand, and the ring hits the floor with a dull thud.

A finger prods my back. I get up and turn around, and grasp my best friend's and catcher's forearm, Joey Beam.

"Hey, buck up, kid. You're about to win us our first World Series. You're the best pitcher we've ever had."

I can't muster a smile, so I just say, "Yeah."

He goes about the wrong way trying to cheer me up. "Hey, man. It's just a woman. There are more women than men out there. You'll find another one."

I close my eyes and shake my head, and walk up to the field. My home.

Hermione

I don't want to use magic to get back to London, and a long flight is just what I need to finish the book that I'm reading: The Eye of the World, by Robert Jordan.

A strand of hair pops out of my ponytail and falls into my face, and I lift up my left hand to brush it away. I stop before I reach my face, though. My hand feels too light.

I look at my ring finger, and there's a pale strip of skin that is paler than the rest of my hand. Almost two years I've worn that ring, and my hand already feels incomplete without it. I remember the day the day I got it clearly in my head, one month before Harry's first major league game.

"I do." I'm looking up into Harry's smiling face, my husband's smiling face.

"You may kiss the bride." Harry wraps his arms around me and pulls me to him, and his warm lips press against mine, sealing the bond of marriage.

He breaks the kiss, brings his lips up to my ear, and whispers, "I love you, Hermione. I'll always love you."

I whisper back, "I'll always love you too, Harry. Always."

We dance our first dance as husband and wife, and I feel complete.

I'm brought back to the present when an announcement blares out of the mounted speaker.

"Attention, all passengers waiting to board flight 473 to London. Due to unfortunate circumstances, the flight has been delayed for two hours. The new departure time is 9 P.M. Sorry for the inconvenience."

A collective groan rises from the people sitting near me. I check my watch: 6:02 P.M. A woman cradling a child on her hip sits next me and asks, "Are you okay, dear?" and holds out a handkerchief.

I bring my hand up and touch my face. I can feel the wet trails on my face where my tears ran. Dazed, I accept the proffered handkerchief and wipe my face, thanking the woman and assuring her that I'm fine.

Harry

The announcer reads off the lineups as the two teams line up on the base lines. Our opponents, the San Francisco Giants, are lined up on the first base line. The team that I play for, the Anaheim Angels, are lined up on the third base line.

All the players put their caps over their hearts but me. I place mine over the locket and find myself drifting back to the she gave it to me as the national anthem begins.

"Happy first anniversary, Harry!" Hermione's lovely voice wakes me up.

I sit up against the headboard as Hermione shoves a wrapped parcel into my hand. I grab my wand with my other hand and accio Hermione's gift from it's hiding place in the closet. I give it to her, and we both tear into our gifts at the same time.

I open a small box and see a locket resting on the bottom. It's in the shape of a heart, bu somehow its still manly.

"Harry, I love it!" She hooks the necklace that I got her around her neck. The red ruby in the shape of a heart rests just above her breasts. "Open it, Harry!"

I open the locket that she gave me. There's a picture of Hermione in her wedding dress on the left, and a picture of her smiling face on the right. "Now you can always bring me onto the field with you."

I gather her in my arms and give her a kiss. Our marriage had hit a rough patch near the end of the baseball season because I had been neglecting her for baseball. Everything turned out fine when the season ended, though, and here we are, laughing and kissing, celebrating our first anniversary. We beam at each other and kiss again.

I hear the crowd cheering; the seventh game of the World Series is starting. I walk up to the mound and grab the ball, pushing all thoughts of the woman I love aside.

I look at the sun. There are still another 15 minutes of sunlight left. I look at my watch again, and it reads 7:00. My heart has been aching for the last hour, so I decide to head to the bar.

There is a bunch of people there, and a nice man gives up his seat for me. I order a martini and stare into it. I hear the name "Harry Potter" and glance up. All eleven TVs in the bar are tuned to the World Series game.

Harry is warming up, firing the ball into the catcher's mitt. I tell myself to leave, to end my suffering, but I can't. It's Harry, and I can't tear my eyes away from the face of the love of my life.