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Chapter 25 : finding the meaning
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"You will find as you look back upon your life that the moments when you have truly lived are the moments when you have done things in the spirit of love." –Henry Drummond
You snooze, you lose
Well I have snost and lost
I’m pushing through
I’ll disregard the cost
I hear the bells
So fascinating and
I’ll slug it out
I’m sick of waiting
Mike Doughty, “I Hear the Bells”
“I love this song,” she said, smiling softly as she closed her eyes, focusing solely on Mike Doughty softly singing “I Hear the Bells” in the background of the pub.
Harry chuckled as he watched the recent Hogwarts graduate act like a simple, normal teenager—it was then that he realized just how much he had missed seeing her like that. “It’s okay.”
She shook her head slowly. “No—no, it’s not just ‘okay’. It’s so much more than that Harry.”
“It’s about some bloody bells that, apparently, are ringing,” he said in disbelief, chuckling slightly at the absurdity of it all.
She let out a small breath of a laugh as she slowly opened her eyes. “It’s so much more than that Harry.”
He slightly cocked his head to the side as his expression quickly changed from one of amusement to one of bafflement. “I don’t see it,” he admitted.
She smiled at him sympathetically. “You will—one day you’ll get it. One day you’ll think about this conversation, this song, and you’ll understand what I mean… you’ll finally know why I adore it so much,” she promised him.
“And what do I do until then?” he asked her, a bit bothered by the fact that she wasn’t going to explain why the bloody song meant so much to her.
“Until then it’ll just be a few words about some bells to you, and I’ll be a total mystery,” she told him, nudging his shoulder with her own playfully before closing her eyes once again to immerse herself in the sweet lyrics.
He just stared at her in disbelief, letting her have her moment of silence to enjoy the song as he tried to comprehend what that underlying connotation in it was. He wanted to know what was so special about the song that it made her look so—so free.
He watched he as the priest spoke, instructing Ron and Luna in their vows. It all just seemed so surreal, so bloody out of nowhere. He had wondered for so long if it would ever be possible, and then if she was even real. But there she was, in all her glory, flesh and blood, and he couldn’t help but be utterly enamored by the image. He could tell that she felt his gaze on her when she turned to look at him, sending him that small crooked smile that he had come to adore for its simplicity.
While he couldn’t name the exact shade of blue that her dress was, or the cut, or even her hair style—he honestly didn’t care. He knew that later in life all that he’d remember, all that would matter to him, was the fact that that stunning, slightly insecure, crazy woman was his.
He had wanted her for so long, screwed up so many times, dealt with the pain of her leaving as she did, for the great length of time that she did, but it was finally over. The pain was done with and all that was left was a mended man who had become an extremely sentimental and sappy bloke—a very unmanly trait that he would certainly never attest to out loud.
In reality though, nothing else mattered now that he had her.
He was wrong, some things did still matter.
“Chin up,” he heard a light and playful voice order him as she took a seat by his side.
He raised his chin.
“Funny,” she commented with a genuine laugh. “But honestly Harry, you can’t be so sensitive, it’s really not that big of a deal.”
“I’m not bloody sensitive,” came his grumbled response, accompanied by a low growl. “Sensitive is unmanly as and the bloody ‘boy-who-triumphed’ I’m the epitome of manliness.”
“Sure you are love,” she assured him, patting him atop his head in a highly condescending manner. Damn chit.
He glared at her.
“Oh come on Harry, so you didn’t catch the garter after I got the bouquet, as if that’s really that big of a deal.”
“He got to put his hand up your dress,” he muttered as he chugged what was left of his fire whiskey.
“Well if it’s any consolation you’re the only man whose hands I want up it.”
He didn’t respond; he wouldn’t give her the satisfaction of knowing that she had sort of sated him with that last remark. He was brooding and was dead set on getting the due respect for that.
“Seriously Harry, if you think about it, in the whole cosmic balance sense of things the fact that you’re the best man to my maid of honor offsets that other superstition,” she reasoned.
He didn’t say anything, as immature as it may have been he liked where she was taking the whole thing and was hoping to be further reassured of the fact.
“But, then again, if that superstition is actually stronger than the whole maid of honor-best man, true love thing, it could also mean that Jason and I will end up getting eloped or something,” he could practically hear the smirk on her voice as she made that comment.
That was the point at which he decided to screw the whole silence thing—she was just far too talented at goading him. “Shut up.”
She chuckled. “You know, you’re kind of sexy when you’re all demanding and controlling like that.”
“Oh, so we’re back to that again? Well then how about, now that the wedding’s over, we go back to our place and I can show you just how much I’d prefer your hands on me?” she asked him in a low, seductive tone that quickly worked wonders on him.
His eyes widened as he turned to her with a small, suggestive leer. “Really?”
“Why don’t you find out yourself because, personally, I think tat words are mush too overrated,” she told him as she playfully wiggled her eyebrows, effectively breaking whatever barriers he had built against her manipulation.
He groaned. “Hermione, you can play me far too well, you know that?”
“Well I should hope so, I’d hate to see that you’re the only one with that power in this relationship, it wouldn’t be very fair.”
“Really?” he asked her in surprise.
She just smiled at him as she touched a hand to his cheek in a soft caress, nodding slowly before surprising him by suddenly disapparating.
“Bloody hell,” he laughed before quickly following her lead.
author’s note: and I’m afraid that that’s all she wrote lol.
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