Characters © J.K. Rowling.
Plot & Original Characters © Sami-Lee 2004.
Harry walked solemnly down the street. It was a cold, crisp winter evening, but he'd forgotten his coat. He cursed to himself as the wind picked up and he wrapped his arms around himself for warmth.
It had been five years since Harry had left Hogwarts, four years since he had defeated Lord Voldemort, three years since he had last seen Ron and Hermione, two years since he had seen Remus Lupin and one long year since he had left London and gone to New York to train to be an Auror.
Finding himself back in London was unnerving. He simply could not admit that it felt good to be home. He felt horrible; all the bad memories started flooding back to him. All the memories of his school years with Ron and Hermione, which only made him hurt more for having left them behind. All the memories of Sirius, memories of his Uncle and Aunt and Cousin, memories of unrequited love.
He sighed and tried rubbing his arms, which were now starting to feel numb in the cold. He thought about the friends he'd made since he'd lost contact with everyone from Hogwarts, since he'd lost contact with the magical world. The only contact he had with that world now was his profession, which he didn't have much use for, having quit his training, and even that didn't seem magical anymore. He was starting to question his faith, question his mind. Did the magical world even exist anymore?
He rounded a corner and let a half smile creep onto his lips as he saw his flat. He hadn't been back since he left for the training, and the feeling of independence that had overwhelmed him when he bought the flat came rushing back, this was the only place he felt happy. He climbed the stairs, digging in his backpack for keys, and, upon reaching his apartment and finding his keys, he let himself in. It was exactly as he had left it. He'd bought it with money his parents has left him and got a muggle job to pay for the furniture that filled the small apartment. He collapsed onto his couch, dropping the backpack beside it. He should call someone; let them know he was back. But he was tired, and all he really wanted to do was sleep. His bed had gathered a fair amount of dust since he'd left, but that didn't stop him from collapsing on it and promptly falling asleep.
He woke the next morning feeling refreshed and disorientated. Remembering where he was, he crawled out of bed and kicked off his heavy boots, pulled his shirt over his head and wandered into the bathroom. Though it was another cold winter morning, he had a cold shower.
He dressed in a plain pair of loose fitting jeans and pulled a plain light blue T-shirt on, followed by his boots and he headed for the kitchen. Harry wasn't especially hungry, but he felt that if he didn't eat something he just might not make it through the day. He took some bread out of his freezer and shoved it into the toaster, then he went to the cupboard and took out the peanut butter. 'It's probably off.' He thought, putting the peanut butter back and grabbing the toast. He wandered into the living room and picked his backpack up off the floor. He took his wallet and shoved it into his back pocket then he took his mobile phone and shoved it in his front pocket. Last, he took his keys and locked the door as he left his apartment.
He was still hungry, even after the toast, so he headed down the road in the bleak London sunshine to find something for breakfast. 'I wonder if that little café is still on the corner of Hyde and Walker' He wondered to himself. He started to head down towards Hyde Street, nonchalantly whistling a random tune to himself. As he turned down the street he remembered just why he had loved the little café so much – he used to spend nearly every morning there with her. He felt his chest contract as he remembered her face and stopped walking.
He hadn't seen her for about a year and a half; he'd broken up with her 6 months before he left for the US, when he decided to become an Auror. He thought it would be better that way, easier to leave. He would never have guessed how wrong he was. It hurt every time he thought about her. He'd missed her like crazy and wished every day that he'd taken her with him. He regretted dreadfully not telling her where he was going or what he was doing, but he knew that if he did, she would follow him, and if she followed him – she would end up in more trouble than either of them could imagine. 'I wonder if she still works there?' He thought to himself and started walking again.
Aimee Lillian Jade. She was a black-haired, blue-eyed angel. Harry couldn't remember for the life of him why he left her, why he didn't ask her there and then to spend the rest of her life with him. He looked up as he crossed the street and stopped again before he entered the small café. He sincerely doubted she would still work there, but if she did, what would he say? He started walking again, running his fingers nervously through his haphazard hair.
As he pushed the door open his heart leaped up out of his chest and did several laps around the café. There she was, sitting by herself in the far corner, stirring a cup of coffee and reading a thick novel. He faltered. What was he supposed to say? 'I'm sorry I left you standing there on the street that morning and never came back'? That was stupid. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly and made his way across the café. Before he could even think of how to start, something happened that prevented him from having to.
"Harry?!?"
At the sound of the voice four heads shot around to look at him simultaneously. Aimee was the first one he recognised, her long black hair whipping her face as she whisked her head around, her novel forgotten on the table in front of her. The second person he noticed was the one who had yelled out his name, he recognised the voice before he did the face. It was Hermione, and Ron was sitting next to her, his mouth open like an offended child. The fourth head, however, was one Harry had never expected to come across again, the blonde hair and grey eyes that so taunted him in his childhood now stared out at him from under a baseball cap at the back of the café.
Harry froze; he didn't know what to do. Who did he address first? Surely Hermione, as she was the one who had noticed him. He opened his mouth to speak and closed it again, no idea what he was supposed to say.
"Is it really you?" Hermione had stood and now she moved forward and reached her hand out as though she thought she was going crazy and he might not really be there. He chanced a sideways glance at Aimee, who was staring at Hermione in utter distaste. Typical that she would still be jealous of any girl within a 5-mile radius of Harry. He sighed and nodded, moving his eyes to his worn boots and leaving them there. Hermione let her hand brush the side of his cheek before she pulled it almost violently away. Ron hadn't moved from his chair behind her.
Before he had a chance to look up and see whether Hermione was okay, Harry felt his body jerk backwards as someone threw themselves at him. Aimee's arms wrapped around his shoulders and her head nestled itself in his neck. "You came back." She mumbled. He didn't respond with words, instead he let his own arms wrap around her waist and pull her close to him, as though he never wanted to let go, and he didn't, either. He took in the smell of her hair, the soft touch of her skin; both of which had haunted him since he had left. He didn't want to move. When he eventually did, it was because he noticed the blonde in the back stand and leave, he caught Harry's eye as he reached the door and smiled. Not a smirk or a sneer – a smile.
"Aimee," He said softly as he released her and she took a step back to look at him once more, bewildered, relishing the fact that Harry was really standing in front of her. She took her hand in his and it didn't seem she would willingly let it go any time soon. He turned back to Hermione, whose expression had turned to one of complete confusion and slight remorse. "These are my good friends Ron and Hermione." He said, looking at Ron for the first time and smiling. Ron smiled back and waved to Aimee in greeting. Hermione smiled and nodded politely. "Guys, this is Aimee." Aimee took her turn to blush and wave, though she didn't let as much of a fake smile cross her lips, Harry could tell she disliked Hermione already, and Hermione disliked her. He sighed inwardly, all thoughts of the mysterious blonde gone from his thoughts.
"Where have you been, Harry?" Hermione asked, her eyes filled with worry. Harry knew how Hermione felt about him, he also knew that when he hadn't returned the feelings, Hermione had fallen back on Ron. It looked now, though, that they had simply stayed friends. He wasn't sure how to answer, he didn't want to tell them that he had been training to become an Auror, it would mean having to talk about his past with them, and in turn explaining why he hadn't finished the training. He would then have to explain his past and the magical world to Aimee, which he also didn't want to do. He closed his eyes and rubbed them with his free hand, his other hand still clutched tightly by Aimee.
"If I agree to sit down and tell you, will you buy me lunch?" He smiled cautiously. Ron, who had in time stood up, patted Harry on the back. Harry felt a sudden rush of relief as Ron did so, and smiled his gratitude, Hermione also seemed to lighten up, realising that they still had the same old Harry, regardless of where he'd been for the last three years. Aimee looked up at Harry apprehensively. "You'll join us, wont you, Aimee?" He said and she smiled in relief and nodded, grabbing her things, as the four of them took a seat at the table where Ron and Hermione had been sitting.
Harry didn't tell them much about where he'd been, just that he had gone to New York, that he needed a change and felt like his past was chaining him down. He told them all about New York, which seemed to get their mind of why he had left in the first place and ultimately – why he had left the magical world. He was trying to hide his nerves every time Ron and Hermione looked as though they might say something related to his past, and sighed in relief discreetly each time the conversation took a new turn away from it.
They spent a few good hours sitting in the small café, talking about life in general and how it was working for each of them, catching up on old friends – "Lavender has become a fortune teller, surprise, surprise." Ron indulged – And learning about each other, in Ron, Hermione and Aimee's case. The three of them also had a good laugh at how Harry's accent had changed slightly and was now a bizarre mix of his own accent and some American. Harry had filled them in on what he had done since he'd last seen them and about his relationship with Aimee. As his past had managed to be avoided, talking about Aimee was the hardest part of the conversation. He wanted her back, but he spoke about it he faltered.
Hermione's expression dropped and Harry could tell her heart had started pounding inside her chest. She thought that now he was back, she would have a chance at being with him, she hadn't known about Aimee – did she really think that after three years he would still be single? That he wouldn't have found someone to share his life with? Alright, so he wasn't marrying the girl, but still, how could Hermione waltz back into his life and expect to suddenly be the most important thing in it. His thoughts were interrupted when Aimee stood up, his hand in hers once more.
"Right, well, we should get going, Harry." She said, as though he had never left and they had never been apart. However, he didn't stand. She looked at him quizzically.
"Aimee, I just got back, I've been single for a year, I'm not about to go rushing back into a relationship. I need time to get readjusted here." He said simply, looking into her blue eyes and fighting the urge to get lost in them. He didn't have to fight for long as Aimee shot out of her seat and glared daggers at him. She didn't say anything as the tears started falling freely from her eyes and she fled the café. Harry looked depressingly at Ron who had just lifted his wrist and examined his watch.
"Oh, bugger, I have to get back to work, it was good seeing you, though, Harry. Don't let it be another three years before we get together again, ok?" He smiled warmly and shook Harry's hand. "And don't worry about Aimee, she's a nice girl, she'll come around, hell, any girl would for you." He said, winking as he stood up. Hermione smile half-heartedly as Ron left the café.
"So…" She said, feeling a lot less happy about calling out to him than she had when she first saw him, but a lot better now that Aimee had fled in tears. "How did you and Aimee meet?" She didn't really care to know, he knew that much, but at least she was trying to make conversation. He smiled and stood up, remembering the day he met her.
"We met here, actually. It almost seemed like something out of a movie, really, I turned around with my coffee and spilt it all over her, we laughed about it and sat down together and started talking, four hours later we were back at my place and – "
"Wow, that's amazing, almost as though it was meant to be…" She swooned insincerely, standing and moving past Harry to the door. "Well, I best be off then."
"Wait, Mione." Harry placed his hand on her arm and she turned and looked up into his still sparkling green eyes. "Will you stay and talk with me some more, there are some things I need to talk to you about now that the others are gone." She smiled at him, genuinely for the first time since he stepped foot in the café.
"Of course, where would you like to go?" She linked her arm in his and they left the café together, Hermione gradually forgetting about Aimee, and Harry forgetting about Hermione's feelings for him. Not having been in London for so long, Harry let Hermione lead the way around the busy streets, they peered in shop windows and speculated about buying ridiculously expensive things. It was almost just like it had been when they were at school, but soon, without even realising it, it was almost too much like it had been in the past; Harry soon found himself standing outside The Leaky Caldron. Hermione, as though out of habit, moved to enter the dingy pub, but Harry grabbed her arm.
"I don't want to go in there." He stated emotionlessly, his face set. Truthfully he was terrified as much as he simply didn't want to go in. Hermione watched him for a few moments as the turned their backs on the pub and started walking in another direction.
"Why did you leave, Harry?" She looked at him, watching his face contort in what looked almost like pain as he searched his brain for the answer to give her. He didn't want to lie, nor did he want tot tell her the truth, but sadly there was no in between of it, he either told her the straight-out truth, or he told her a straight-out lie. He ran his ringers through his hair, much the way he had seen his father do in Snape's pensive.
"There isn't any one reason, Hermione. Like I said, I simply had to get away, away from the magical world, from London. Everywhere I turned I was greeted with sad memories. Everywhere I went I was still recognised as The-Bloody-Fricking-Boy-Who-Lived." He sighed. "I don't know, it was just heaps of things. Things even you and Ron don't know about, things I haven't even told Lupin." Harry shut his eyes for a moment, fleetingly thinking of the blonde in the café, opening his eyes abruptly as he did so. Why was he thinking of him now? After so long…
The finished their day together with another coffee and an exchange of phone numbers. "It was great seeing you Harry. If you need anything – "
"I'll call you Hermione, you can count on it." He said, getting up to leave. "And tell Ron I'll be seeing him around, too." She nodded and stood, moving to hug him goodbye. Harry froze, it was too soon and he didn't want Hermione getting too close in case something came up. He patted her shoulder and smiled. Hermione's heart sank and she watched him turn and start to walk away.
"How far from here do you live, Harry?" She didn't want him to leave and he knew it.
"About 30 minutes walk."
"Don't be ridiculous then, come on, I'll give you a lift home, it's freezing." She was right and he didn't want to upset her as he had Aimee, besides, this was Hermione. He smiled and followed her down a few side streets to a fairly nice looking apartment building. "It's not much…" She started but Harry interrupted her.
"It's great." He didn't say much more as they got into her car and started down the busy London streets. In fact neither of them spoke as the little car wound it's way to Harry's house.
"So, I'll see you soon?" She asked, as she flicked the indicator on and pulled over outside his house. None of the lights were on, and there were no cars about, so she figured there mustn't be anyone else home. "You sure you don't want me to come up?" She knew he was surely old enough to stay in the house by himself, and certainly able to keep himself sufficiently amused before he fell asleep, but that had nothing to do with her reason for asking. She hated goodbyes, especially when they were ones that could surely be avoided. Ok, so this wasn't a goodbye, it was simply a goodnight, but that still didn't compensate for everything that had just been cut short and ruined with his sudden weirdness and "I have to go". She was never going to be able to tell him that she loved him. She knew it would ruin everything if she did.
"I'll be fine, really. I'll call you." He smiled a quick half smile and got out of the car. 'So like him.' She thought angrily. She knew she didn't really have any right to be angry with him, but it still hurt that even when she made it so blatantly obvious that she liked him, he still managed to shrug her off so easily - like he knew, but didn't really want to know, so instead acted like her feelings for him didn't exist. She didn't wait to watch him walk up to the door, and decided to take the long route home. She turned the radio up, and put the headlights on.
"Why me?" She said to herself aloud. 'It always happens to me.' She added as an after thought. The back streets of Cheltenham were deserted, as they usually were at this time of night. Though she knew that it was highly unlikely she was going to come across any other drivers, she took the corners slightly slower than usual. Not only were her eyes starting to fill with unwanted tears, she had one of those feelings - And it was lucky she had.
She slammed the brakes on just in time. The person standing before her was obviously slightly drunk, but sobered up quickly at the realization of what had just happened. But she noticed a flash of something else on her face, besides the shock and fear. It was her eyes, the way she was looking at her. That ice-cold look of hated recognition.