Author's Note: Story set after the war, canon compliant, excepting the epilogue. Harry/Hermione pairing. Here is the warning that will apply for the entirety of this story: trigger warning, implied rape, though not graphically described. I would describe it more in the Kilgrave sense than in the literal sense. Kilgrave being a reference to the television series Jessica Jones. If you haven't seen it you are seriously missing out. It is for this reason I've given this story a mature rating, not because it does or will contain smut, because it won't.
The outline of this story is complete and I will make an effort to post the chapters as often as possible. This is not the first fan fiction I've written, though it is the first I've posted, all comments, good and bad, are welcome as long as they're civil. Enjoy and leave an opinion if you feel inclined.
I should also mention that regardless of the main pairing I will never write a story in which Harry and Ginny end up together. Books and movies, she's just boring for me, I don't like her. I will make an effort to be fair to her, but it's unlikely she'll make much of an appearance.
Obligatory, I own no recognizable places or characters, they are the property of J.K. Rowling, Warner Brothers, and Pottermore, and I do not profit from this or any other story I may post in the future. I do, however own the plot of this story and this account is the only place it has been posted so if you see it somewhere else, it's stolen.
I have dates and timelines mapped out so if you have any questions about that let me know and I'll do my best to answer them.
Gone
Chapter 1
The Break in the Bonds
"She wouldn't give up on me, Ginny!" Harry's anger was bubbling over and his patience had reached the end of its strained tether.
Ginny's face contorted into a strange mixture of rage and sadness. Her rapidly changing color made her uncannily resemble her hot-headed brother. "She's dead Harry." She nearly whispered. "you know it. If she weren't she would be here with us. With you." Her tone held an unsettling icy calm to it, the heaviness of finality and the blunt edge of truth.
Harry would've preferred if she had punched him, indeed it felt as though she had. He had to stop himself from physically clutching his chest, the pain was so real and overwhelming. Three years. Three years had passed by in a blur of despair, not once had those words been vocalized. Everyone thought it, but never voiced it, or at least, never to Ron or Harry. He could see the thoughts everyone kept hidden, knew what they thought, but hearing the words was another beast entirely. "Get. Out." He hissed back at her.
"Oh honestly, Harry!" Ginny threw up her hands up in a mock gesture of surrender. "Did you never think of that outcome? Did you think she'd just gone on holiday?"
Harry felt the anger building back up, swallowing up the sadness and the grief. "I said, GET OUT!" He roared.
Ginny was unaffected, she merely rolled her eyes before storming toward the fireplace, she threw in a pinch of floo powder before turning back, "this obsession will be the end of us Harry, I can only take so much."
"We're already done!" he screamed into the emerald flames as she faded from sight. He wasn't sure whether or not he wanted her to have heard him. As soon as she was gone he threw the nearest mug into the wall, satisfied when it shattered and rained ceramic onto the floor.
As if waiting for the cue, the portrait in the hallway began to wail, "blood traitors and filth! Defiling the house of my ancestors!" she screamed ceaselessly.
"Shut up!" Harry yelled while closing her drapes with a flick of his wand. "As soon as Hermione comes back she will find a way to end you!" he told the ragged curtains. Then he stomped to the floo himself, falling into the grate at the Hogs Head a moment later.
The dirty bar was nearly empty save a few shifty looking patrons huddled in a corner table, likely discussing dodgy business ventures. Harry went right to the bar and ordered a firewhiskey, downing it in one gulp.
Aberforth was absently wiping the bar with a rag that was likely doing no favors for the questionable cleanliness of the place. "long day Potter?" He quietly grunted in Harry's direction, not bothering to meet his gaze. Harry nodded and tapped the bar. Another firewhiskey slid across the bar toward him, this one he sipped. "Still no leads then?" Aberforth asked, as if he were merely discussing the weather. Harry scowled.
"She's not dead." He growled at the barman.
"I would think not." Aberforth didn't rise to Harry's prickly mood, just conversationally resumed the topic as though Harry had shown a desire to discuss it. He hadn't. Wanted to discuss it, that was, but hearing someone finally agree with him, believe him, nearly made his eyes water. He met Aberforth's gaze, hoping he would continue his thought. Aberforth cleared his throat and dropped the rag on the bar top before he went on, finally bothering to look at Harry before he spoke, "that girl is too smart and too stubborn to be dead. No, wherever she is, I'm sure she's alive." He picked up the rag again and resumed his ineffective cleaning.
Harry sighed but didn't respond. Aberforth rarely required a response anyway, he wasn't much for conversation. Harry suspected that in some way Aberforth must like him. Though he was surly at best he certainly spoke to Harry more often than the rest of his regulars. It was one of the things that made Harry miss Hermione so desperately, she would've had a better read on the last Dumbledore. If she were here she could've told him if he was considered a friend or if he was merely tolerated.
Harry spent the next half hour silently sipping his drink and considering where to look next in search of Hermione. She had disappeared the very day after he and Voldemort had met for the last time. They had gone to sleep in the castle and when they awoke, she hadn't joined them. The search at first had been frantic, the castles enchantments had still been gravely compromised, anything could have happened. Her face was pinned to every storefront, speculation in every paper. Harry spent days that slipped into weeks into years hating himself for feeling secure, for feeling safe. Childish. Foolish.
After months of tireless searching by the remaining Order members, by the Weasley's, and by the new ministry, hope drifted away like smoke on a breeze and less and less support came in. Harry and Ron were mostly alone in their continued efforts, and Harry was starting to feel like he was losing Ron too. He had noticed the gradual drop off with Ron, even though neither had voiced it. Ron had contributed less and less to Harry's feverish rants on every flimsy lead, searched less and less for information, spent less and less time with Harry himself.
Harry's troubled thoughts were interrupted by a heavy body dropping onto the stool next to him. A friendly arm was thrown across his shoulders before George spoke, "you and Ginny had another row then?" Harry nodded but didn't give any details. "She's been coming 'round the shop a lot."
"Yeah, well, I don't think it's working out, tell you the truth." Harry sighed, "I love her, I do, but what I'm doing is important."
George gave a thoughtful nod. "If-" he seemed to choke on the words for a moment then pulled a determined look before he continued, "if we didn't have Fred, you know," Harry did know. They had Fred's body, Hermione had disappeared, that was the difference. "Well," George cleared his throat, "I would never have stopped, like you, I wouldn't give up on him, not ever. I don't imagine Ginny can be angry at you for that, and if she is, well, I suppose she's still got some growing up to do."
"Thanks George." Harry told him honestly.
"Yeah? Thank me by buying me a drink." George shot back. Harry laughed and signaled Aberforth to bring them another round. "Ron's got a date tomorrow, did you know?"
Harry couldn't believe what he'd heard, Ron didn't date, Ron waited for Hermione, and that was that. "What about Hermione?" Harry asked stupidly. He didn't miss the pained expression that passed over George's face and it sent a burning pain through his chest.
"Katie Bell is trying out for the Harpies, Ron's been going to some of Ginny's practices, one thing led to another, the way they do. Angelina told me. I don't think it's the first one to be honest with you. I think Angelina avoided saying anything for a while." George said with a false tone of lightness. His intense glances in Harry's direction gave away his concern.
Harry downed the rest of his drink, "Good for him then, Katie's a nice girl." He could hear the forced nonchalance in his own words but he hoped George would ignore it.
He didn't get the opportunity to find out because a voice yelled in their direction, "Hey! What did you do to Ginny this time Harry?!" Ron bellowed from the front door he'd just stormed through. Harry sighed and ran his hand over his face.
"Take it outside Weasley, I'm warning you." Aberforth growled from behind the bar. Harry could see the wand twitch in his hand but he knew the only way Ron would go outside is if Harry did, so he threw some money on the bar and started toward Ron.
George shot the pair of them a smirk, "play nice ladies." He gave an exaggerated wave and received a dirty look from Ron.
Harry gestured Ron out of the bar and followed on his heels. He was trying very hard not to be angry with Ron, it had been three years after all, but he was finding it unexpectedly difficult. It was like an uncomfortable weight on his chest, as if he were bearing witness to Ron's abandonment of Hermione. Almost as though Ron was cheating on her in some way, he knew that wasn't fair, but he couldn't shake the thought. He needed someone to help, he needed someone beside him searching for her, believing like he believed. Just like the horcruxes, Ron was walking away.
"Ginny's at the Burrow, stomping around about how you dumped her Harry, it better not be true! You're my best mate, but she's my sister, don't forget that!" Ron was ranting away in a secluded alley beside the Hogs Head and Harry was only half listening.
"Ron," Harry sighed heavily, "you're dating Katie? Why? What about Hermione?" Harry didn't even bother to respond to the questions about Ginny. All he could really feel was relief about that right now, truthfully, it was a long time coming.
Ron paled, "how-how did you know about that?" He sputtered uselessly.
Harry felt the overwhelming urge to hit him, "does it matter?" He forced through gritted teeth.
It was Ron's turn to give a heavy sigh. "Harry, look, she wouldn't just abandon us, you know?" Harry hated the pleading in his voice, it only made him angrier at him. "If she isn't, you know, well then she doesn't want to be found does she? She's smarter than us, if she doesn't want to be found, we're not going to find her."
This was another theory Harry hated listening to, Ron wouldn't admit he thought she was dead so he'd rather think Hermione had just skipped off into the sunset. That she'd found a new life, one she preferred. He had the vicious thought that Hermione deserved someone better than Ron, who wouldn't think that of her. He knew better. Hermione didn't abandon him when Ron had, she didn't leave when they were starving and living in a tent, she didn't leave when she was tortured, when she'd lost her wand, and she didn't leave this time either. "Okay Ron." Harry started in a deadly calm voice. "I'm sure she's just decided she 'doesn't want to be found.' Have a nice date with Katie, yeah?" With that he turned and disapparated. In truth, he didn't go far, just into George's Hogsmeade shop. Both Weasley locations were the only shops still keeping the posters of Hermione in their windows, her photo smiled serenely at him from the posters. His heart gave a painful jerk that he ignored and headed straight for the floo in the back.
Once he returned to Grimmauld place he summoned the stack of parchment he kept on every effort he'd made toward finding Hermione. He would go over everything again. It wasn't the first night he'd spent pouring over the same information.
First they had searched her home in Hampstead. That had been a dead end. The place was completely empty and untouched. Through a few well-placed confundus charms they'd learned the home was actually owned by Hermione Granger and not by her parents. Additionally, a building they found to be a closed dental practice was owned by Hermione Granger. When they'd inquired further they'd come up empty. Harry had to admit, her parents were completely buried, they couldn't find a trace of them until they went to Australia themselves, which was the next place they went. With no evidence of a struggle they assumed she'd gone looking for her parents.
However, Monica and Wendall Wilkins ran a moderately successful dental practice with no children to speak of and no knowledge of a girl named Hermione. Still, Harry and Ron had stayed there for months, staking her parents out with the invisibility cloak to see if she'd turn up. Ron had even attempted to pose as a patient in order to get close to them. That had backfired spectacularly when Ron ran out of the practice while screaming about how mental muggles were.
Within the stack of parchment were many correspondences with Professor McGonagall. Harry had written her to ask where Hermione had gone to primary school, where she'd possibly have extended family, every piece of information he could possibly compile about Hermione Granger. He kept every mundane fact he remembered, and everything he had learned since her disappearance, written down as best as he could. He even had her little beaded back tucked in the box, though it gave him nothing of use.
There were photos too. If he was being truthful, that's what he was really doing tonight. Looking at her smiling and waving out of the photographs he had collected. Most included him or Ron, many had all three of them. Dennis Creavy had, very generously, gone through rolls and rolls of Colin's film to find many of these for Harry. Some of them were cut out of old issues of the Prophet, even a few from Skeeter articles.
He ran his fingers over the well-worn photo of the three of them taken after Voldemort fell. It was published the very next morning, in fact. They were hugging each other in a grip so tight he would be surprised if they'd been breathing at all. Hermione had tears pouring down her cheeks but she was smiling. He had also kept every story about her disappearance, carefully clipped with every photo, every issue, every rumor, every theory, and every lead.
Suddenly Harry broke out of his memory. "Kreacher!" He nearly screamed. The elf popped into being next to him and Harry jumped out of his chair in excitement. "Kreacher! I need you to do something for me, if, er," Hermione would want him to be kind. He took a deep breath, "if you wouldn't mind. Er. Please." He said awkwardly.
Kreacher looked positively thrilled. "Kreacher would be happy to help Master Harry." He clapped his hands together delightedly.
"I need papers Kreacher, newspapers, from everywhere. To help me find Hermione." He told the elf.
"Master is already checking all the newspapers, Kreacher is watching master." The elf seemed confused by his redundant request.
"No. I mean, Dumbledore, he said he read muggle newspapers, to stay informed or something," He told the elf distractedly. The memory of Dumbledore explaining the ministry ignoring muggle issues as inconsequential or unrelated to the wizarding world was screaming through his head like a siren, berating him for the oversight.
Harry drew a deep breath, "sorry Kreacher, what I mean to say is I would like muggle newspapers. Someone, somewhere, just has to have captured a picture of Hermione, even if she's just in the background. So what I need you to do is get as many muggle newspapers as you can, from everywhere you can." Kreacher was nodding his head in understanding now. "You can't be seen by muggles through Kreacher, do you understand? I'll get in trouble if you're spotted. Also, any time you see the name 'Hermione' anywhere, bring me that as well. Even if she's using another last name I don't think she'd change her first, and it's fairly unique, especially with muggles." Kreacher bowed and disappeared with a pop.
Even if Ron was right and she was hiding away from them, the muggle world would be the only place she truly could. Even in the muggle world, she wasn't immune to photographs and that would mean some had to have been taken. Harry would find them. Even if it meant he searched every muggle and wizarding publication the combined efforts of him and Kreacher could obtain. Somewhere, she was out there, and he wasn't giving up or moving on, Ron could do what he wanted but Harry was just getting started.
With new hope ignited Harry made his way slowly up the stairs toward his bedroom. He mused on the idea that Kreacher was now his only real ally remaining in his search for Hermione. The thought was disheartening. It was true that Luna believed she was alive, though she offered no information. Unfortunately Luna was also off scouring some remote part of the world looking for some creature she had probably invented.
Chrookshanks was already taking up what he had decided was his side of the bed, Molly had been only too happy to let Harry take the surly thing. He seemed to tolerate this living arrangement but was never particularly nice to anyone without Hermione around. One more ally. Harry's last thought before he drifted off to sleep was what Hermione would make of his misfit band of heroes.