Harry x Hermione Short Stories

Always Constant

But under the candlelight... wow. It's like seeing her for the very first time.

As his heart pounded in his chest, he knew.

He would win this war for her.

So that she would never sleep like this again.

She deserves a proper sleep every single night in a bed of satin sheets – all safe and warm.

He would keep her safe in his arms as they would snuggle together.

"I love you Hermione", he whispered into the cold night air. He stared at her for a few good minutes before deciding that it's best to wake her up so she could properly rest on the bed.

He reached out to her shoulder, gently shaking her. She immediately stirred.

"Wha – Harry?", she muttered as her chocolate brown eyes opened.

"Hermione you need to sleep. Over there. On the bed", his voice was determined. He wouldn't want her to argue about this.

"Okay", she slowly moved to stretch before standing up. He gave her a small smile which she returned. She walked towards her bed and was immediately knocked out.

He left her sleeping inside the tent as he continued to keep watch. Something happened here at this very moment. With a determination he's never felt before, his heart filled with hope for peaceful days in the future. He will win this war for her, so she could get a goodnight's sleep every single day. Hopefully, in his arms.

The old man smiled. His eyes were drawn to the sleeping baby who shared his wife's name.

"Sleep well Baby Hermione. Grandy will keep you safe. Grandmy is watching over you in heaven. You are loved", he whispered. He closed the nursery and slowly made his way to the library. His Hermione had a large portrait there.

As his aching muscles cracked with every step, he strengthened his resolve. It was a nightly ritual of his to say good night to her portrait. Their children, grand-children, and great grand-children wanted him to just move the portrait to the master bedroom, but he disagreed.

"She would hex me when I meet her in the afterlife if I remove her portrait from the library", that was his constant answer. They would never understand how his Hermione loves the library.

Finally, after what felt like an hour, but was actually just ten minutes, he reached his wife's favorite room. He remembers all the times he spent with her there. Generation after generation of Potters have been enthralled by her voice as she reads her favorite stories for the family.

"Grandy? What are you doing here?", Ophelia Rose Potter, his great granddaughter asked. After Baby Hermione, Ophelia is his second favorite Potter. She too inherited his wife's hair and eyes.

"I planned to say goodnight to your Grandmy's portrait. As always", he grinned. His great granddaughter only rolled her eyes.

"You know Grandy, every female Potter has very high standards in men because of you", Ophelia had a fond smile as she walked over to help him take a seat across his Hermione's portrait.

"Why is that dear?", he asked.

"Well, all of us grew up with stories of how great yours and Grandmy's love story is. It's stuff of legends", she sighed dreamily.

"Oh?", he prodded.

"Grandy you love Grandmy so much. Every night without fail, you say goodnight to her portrait. Always constant", she replied.

"I just miss her so much", his voice cracked with sadness and old age.

"She really was very beautiful", Ophelia remarked as they both looked up at Hermione's wedding portrait. He had a copy of their first picture as a married couple taken mere seconds after the wedding on his nightstand. But her portrait on the library was his absolute favorite. Because she was standing all alone in the picture as if she was walking towards him.

"She is. Just like you. You have her – "

"Her hair and her eyes. I know", she smiled.

"That makes you my favorite Potter. Until Baby Hermione was born", he chuckled.

"Yes. Everyone here knows that", she snorted.

"Ophelia, you should go sleep dear", he patted his great granddaughter's arm.

"Goodnight Grandy", she kissed him on the forehead.

"Sweet dreams. You are safe", he replied.

"Goodnight Grandmy!", Ophelia waved to Hermione's portrait.

"I love you Hermione", Harry Potter said to his wife's portrait before closing his eyes. Maybe he could sleep here tonight. He was too tired to go upstairs.

A sweet feminine voice he hasn't heard for the last five years called out to him. He refused to open his eyes in fear that it was only a dream.

"Harry Potter! Open your eyes right now!", the voice snapped in the same bossy voice that he loved so much. Afraid of getting into trouble, it was second nature to him to immediately comply to whatever she wants when she uses that tone on him.

He gasped. Standing in front of him was his Hermione. All solid. In a beautiful white gown. Just like her portrait.

"Hermione?", he had tears in his eyes.

"Come along, love. You waited too long. It's time", she extended a hand for him to take. Finally...

"Hermione?", he asked. His grip on her hand was tight. He was afraid of losing her again.

"Yes, Harry?"

"Why are you in your wedding dress?"

"Well it's your favorite version of me don't you think? Besides, the afterlife would hardly seem promising if I pick you up looking old and wrinkly, won't I?", she huffed.

Harry Potter smiled. All was well. His Hermione was still her same adorably bossy know-it-all self. She is always constant. Just like his love for her.

THE END