DISCLAIMER: I do NOT own Harry Potter or any of its characters. I also do not make any money from this.
WARNINGS: Yaoi (male x male), Yuri (female x female) adult topics, swearing, sexual scenes and violence.
This has not been Beta'd.
PAIRINGS I know of so far: (pairings will be added as they are mentioned in chapters, so be prepared to see this list get longer)
A/N: AU! This is set five years after the defeat of Voldemort. Dumbledore still dies in the same way, albeit this Harry is more inclined to forgive and understand why Draco did what he did (or rather didn't do).
Please review! This is only the second fanfic I've started, but the first one has been on stand-by for a while. I've written it, just not posted yet. This will probably be finished before my first one as I've taken a liking to this plot line.
'text' is thought
"text" is talking
Hidden Element
Chapter 1
Dark clouds swirled angrily in a blue-grey sky as rain hit her white umbrella, the letters Paris, Paris, Paris, spelled out across its sloped shape in black. As she twirled her umbrella slowly in circles above her head she laughed silently at the almost symbolic weather. Of course, when it came to this particular task, the weather would be a gloomy one.
It had taken her more than two years to figure out the clues she had needed to lay the final piece of the puzzle together. Being the person she was, however, the task done.
She had given him sufficient space; five years was more than enough time to wallow in self pity.
The cottage before her was white washed, the roof thatched and the sparse flowers blood red in colour... which made her worry about the mental condition she could find him in. She stood glued beside the small unhinged fence. Was this really such a good idea? 'No!' She shook her head angrily. To leave the matter alone would be even more cowardly and pathetic than to try and fix it, no matter how broken it... he seemed.
She drew in a deep breath before making her way down the gravel path towards the daunting bright blue door, on her way, stepping into a big puddle. She groaned as she came to a standstill on the door step. The black fluffy boot was shook haphazardly, and the clothing choice doubted once again. Her creamy cotton turtleneck, thigh high jacket with belt and jeans stained easily, especially with the massive puddles she had encountered thus far in the countryside.
No answer came when she knocked. No answer to the second, third or fourth knocks either. She was, however, surprised when the slightest push of her hand opened the door with an ominously resounding click. She had been expecting heavy security and was now upset at his blatant regard for his own safety.
Chewing her bottom lip, she took a tentative step into the cottage. That it wasn't clean was an understatement, but then again, he had never been the cleanest person on Earth. At least something hadn't changed. She searched the untidy mess for something, anything that could give her the next clue.
Cans and take-away boxes littered grimy wooden table tops. Furniture was sparse, with books and newspaper clippings scattered across precariously placed seats. Slowly, she made her way to the curtains, coughing slightly at the dust that shook off them as they were opened. Had he been living in utter darkness? As the curtains opened, a soft moaning sound caught her attention.
On a coach in the corner of the room, huddled between the blankets and trying to move away from the light, was what she had been searching for these past two years.
Trying not to seem too eager, she lowered the cocooned blankets. With a gasp she fell to her knees, not caring how the dusty floor most likely stained her clothed knees. Emerald eyes glared up at her slightly teary face, and a groggy body pushed itself up into a seated position.
The blankets fell down his shoulders and pooled into his lap to reveal a simple dark blue hoody clad torso. His eyes were slightly puffy and his hair more hap hazardous as was normal. His face looked more mature, his features were more masculine, strong to be precise. He looked... like one would expect the strongest wizard alive to look, as cliché as that sounded.
"Mione, I should have known it would be you," he stated gruffly, voice still thick with sleep.
"Oh Harry, Would it be OK to hug you?" He drew her into a tight hug, instantly craving more of the motherly warmth she had always bestowed upon him.
"Harry..." she began, trying to keep the tears at bay.
"I'm sorry, I didn't know you were coming otherwise I could have cleaned the house," he interrupted. Harry knew that lecturing tone of voice and was trying to avoid it as best as possible.
"You'd have been gone if you knew." He didn't even try to deny it, they both knew she was right. "Could you come back now?" she sniffed, settling back on her knees.
"Would it be inconsiderate of me to ask for more time?"
"You know it would be." Harry sighed, rubbing his eyes as he did so. Hermione took note he wasn't wearing his glasses and hadn't reached for any upon her arrival either. "I'm not judging you, you needed time, desperately, but it's time to face the music and come home. You know it yourself, Harry James Potter, or you wouldn't still be here listening to me."
"I guess I knew you'd come eventually. But I also knew I could count on you to give me the time I needed to get my head straight. And I'm going to be honest here. No, I'm not 100% fine, and after all I've been through, I don't expect myself to be, but I've accepted that fact. Someone wise once told me that accepting something's wrong is the first step to solving the problem."
"I'll make us some tea and then we'll chat. Sound like a plan?" When she was answered with a tired nod, she stood up and left to find the kitchen.
It was the most homely area of the house and it gave her a sense of satisfaction knowing that at least he'd been eating something healthy along with all those take-away boxes on the floor. She went through the motions of preparing the tea almost subconsciously, leaning against the counter as she waited for the water to boil.
She tried to mentally sort through Harry's problems in her head, the ones she knew of at least, trying to figure out which ones to attempt approaching and which ones to leave for Harry alone.
If anything time had told her, it was that her attitude could come across as a tad bit suffocating. Harry hadn't been the only one who'd changed in five years. She would have to wait patiently for him to approach her, and then give honest opinions when the need arose.
Silently, the tea was prepared. Carrying the two cups with her, she placed them upon the small side table next to the coach and blinked in abject horror at the empty coach before her.
He hadn't... had he? She helplessly turned in a circle, not really knowing what to do in this situation.
A chuckle came from the door. In exasperation, she twirled to the door, brown curls finally settling around her face after their almost slow-motion twirl around her head. Harry walked back to the coach he'd previously sat upon and gestured for her to follow. He then took a chair from the dining room and, twisting it so he was seated facing the back of the chair, placed his on top to keep his head up.
This was not how she'd expected to find him, and she knew he was aware of that fact too.
He had gained a considerable amount of muscle to his once, slightly toned body. He was not bulky, but his arms and legs became more powerful in composure, his shoulders now wider, and (what she was sure of) a six-pack underneath his black collar, half-sleeved shirt. His dark blue jeans only highlighted the change, and then there was the lack of glasses on his face, which she was sure he'd explain to her sooner rather than later.
"If you'd found me a few years ago, you'd probably see what you were expecting to see. I'm assuming that's why you're gawping like a fish." She closed her mouth and blushed at the wording of the sentence. "Still easy to make you blush," he said. "I'm glad that hasn't changed any. I decided I'd get myself sorted physically before I would mentally. As for the eyes, I had them corrected like you'd told me to do all those years ago. You probably have many questions, but I'd probably answer all of them once everyone's there to hear them. I guess I owe everyone that much. But let's cut to the chase 'Mione. Knowing you, you thought me leaving and coming back on my own, no matter how far into the future that may be, was a good idea. After all, you believe in sorting your own problems out, everyone else would only hinder or influence me into a decision that I probably wouldn't have come up with on my own.
"You seeking me out, that's an act of desperation to get me back. It means magic's involved and that you think I'd be helpful in stopping it. No 'Mione, don't make that face, I'm not saying it to make you feel guilty. Like I said, I have come to terms with it. I am who I am and nothing cannot change that fact, no matter how much I want it to. Whatever it is, it can't be worse than Voldemort."
Hermione pursed her lips. He needed to be on the same page as her... all of them.
"I think that's something we should all tell you. Many things have changed. Our situation, us... it's complicated, you'll see." He stood slowly, following suite as Hermoine made to take his arm.
"What's this I see?" he arched his eyebrow at the simple silver ring that rested round her finger. She blushed once more and encircled her arm around his.
"Ron proposed... we're engaged." He smirked at her sudden shyness on the matter, and decided to prod the situation further.
"Really? I thought you'd have been married by now!" she kicked him playfully. "Let's go then. Wouldn't want to keep your fiancé waiting."
Squeezing his arm gently, she found herself undeniably happy. They would all be together again, and perhaps it would take a while to get things the way they were before, if they ever could, but together, they could do anything. 'The Golden trio' she chuckled to herself, the annoying school term now sounded oddly endearing.
The cottage now stood silent. A freeze frame of five years worth of misery and thought, void of breath or human warmth. The blanket of security it had provided now lay tangled on the floor.
After five years of instability and doubt, a temporarily missing Harry Potter, had returned to the rest of the world.