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Their first kiss happened on New Years Eve.
There was champagne and dancing and bad muggle music. It was bad champagne too. And it was their first kiss, even though their neighbors and friends thought they had been married for years.
The kiss - just the slightest press of lips, the seal that they were still in this together even if it was no longer destroying bits of some mad wizard's soul but instead living a normal life.
It's the only moment Harry lets her keep.
It starts:
"Maybe we should just stay here, Harry. Grow old."
They try. It doesn't really happen, but the thought behind the idea works well enough for awhile.
There's not much to tell if Ron never finds them.
Somewhere along the way they run out of ideas. Somewhere, courage fades in the light of being seventeen and having the world's crusade upon their shoulders. It fades from exhaustion. Eventually the dreams stop and the panic subsides. They forget about the world, about the chaos, and they see nothing but quiet solitude around them. They stumble upon a place hidden from magic and muggle alike, a small secluded town that welcomes them with open arms and asks no questions.
It's temporary - they say
He is James and she is Jean, and it's close enough to the truth that they can forgive themselves for letting it play out.
Harry still plucks hairs from the locals, asks Hermione to brew Polyjuice Potion and sneaks off into magical towns to steal papers. This is a monthly occurrence, a reminder of why he's a terrible, selfish person. A reminder of why he won't go back.
But Harry is still a martyr and these reminders are necessary.
Their home is a cabin on the edge of the woods in between the McAlisters and the Bradys. Hermione gets a job at the school as a secretary. Harry works at the diner. Some days they don't even use magic, but then, for the first decade of their lives they never did. Harry finds it's not much to miss.
Life is still easy without magic. Easier without the burden that came from having it.
The last time Harry steals a paper it's on the morning Hermione tells him she's pregnant. It has the obituary of Ronald Weasley. He tries not to think about the implications.
And again, there's not much to tell when Ron never finds them.
Hermione's heart is broken, but it heals, eventually. Harry waits because what else is there to do. Whether they fall into this thing out of true romantic love for one another or just need, he'll never know. But he can say without a doubt, that there is no one he'd rather spend the rest of his life with.
It may be the one wish that comes true for him.
James and Jean have a daughter.
They name her Louise.
Her father sleeps on a cot next to her crib for the first six months, afraid his ghosts will haunt her too.
Over the next few years, they catch a bit of luck. Hermione becomes a teacher and the owner of the diner dies and leaves it to Harry. They move out of the cabin and into a bigger house in the center of town.
Their best friends think James should run for mayor.
It's not much different than the path they left behind.
Louise is five, and she shows no sign of magic.
Under different circumstances they would fight about this. Hermione would be worried. Harry would tell her to give it time. They'd wait and hope. And eventually when it didn't happen, they'd convince themselves that it was okay to have a squib for a child. They would pray for a miracle. They'd be normal magical parents.
Under these circumstances, a squib is the greatest gift they could have been given.
Five years pass and then...
Louise is ten when she accidentally sets her tree house on fire.
She blames it on a book of matches.
Harry and Hermione pray it’s the truth. Just in case, Hermione takes to walking the town limits muttering protective enchantments and hoping the neighbors just assume she's lost her mind.
It's not the truth.
Louise turns eleven and Harry spots a pair of Death Eaters at the edge of town with a letter in hand, stuck behind an invisible wall.
At night he dreams of bloodshed, rotting corpses, Ginny's shrieks of agony and Ron's dead eyes all while Voldemort laughs, projects the vision of Hermione and Louise in their places.
Voldemort names the time. Harry always knew the place.
Hermione doesn't blink when he tells her he's heading off to die.
Harry doesn't blink when Hermione says she's going with him. She says she'll leave Louise with the neighbors. That it's safer this way. That Louise will grow up happy and healthy. That they both started this together and that's the way it will end.
Hermione turns her back to him, to gather her things, and forgets she married an orphan.
Hermione is exceptional at memory charms. She doesn't like to talk about it, how easy it is to peer inside someone's mind, to curve their memories, build tiny walls around their mind. Memories never actually disappear; just stay hidden, deep where only the caster can find them.
Harry is not very good at them, but he's a quicker draw than Hermione.
It's three days later. To Hermione it's just another day. Put on her coat and walk the dog. Run the diner because her husband is away on business. (Louise asks for how long and the answer gets tangled in Hermione's throat.) Cook dinner and help Louise with her homework.
That night the sky flashes green over Scotland. The whole town gathers on their porches to watch.
Louise says something about the Northern Lights. Hermione sheds a tear, watches as it gets trapped in the pages of her novel. She doesn't know why it's there.
The taste of champagne lingers suddenly on her lips.