For the ones I love who didn't come back.

Chapter One

'This was a terrible idea,' I thought to myself as a entered the large wooden building that contained the early OWL results day. Apparently, some genius had decided to make it a trade fair too, as the stalls and bustling market indicated.

Crap, Sirius is probably laughing at me down there in hell.

I shut off thoughts of my godfather and steeled myself for the press.

Thankfully, in most countries I was a foot note in history. I was grateful for that, as it meant that the smear campaign the Ministry had been writing around me the past few months had been ignored by the vast majority of the people here.

What did get their attention was me fighting Voldemort...again.

The various flashbulbs inevitably went off as I answered in auto-pilot. My general dislike for the mass media was noticed almost immediately. The press from these other countries seemed to have manners at least, and withdrew back to carry on photographing the world's finest young minds.

It was just before the line up for the slips that contained our results when I saw her.

It had been...how long had it been?

Five years, six months and four days.

It was a long time and yet...

I recognised her.

A few seconds later, she recognised me.

"Good evening," I said, flinching at the sound of my own voice.

It was far too cold for a greeting.

"Hello Harry," she said softly.

Her voice had lost the English accent. It was clinically correct now, as if she had never really used it in a while but had striven to perfect it none the less.

She was still Hermione then.

"Sorry," I blurted out, "It's just a little bit of a shock to see you, even when I had stolen the register that said you were coming."

Her eyes flickered and her mouth curled upwards in amusement.

"Hmm, are you ever going to start trusting anyone, Harry?"

"Probably not..."

There were noises all around from people moving about and talking, but nothing penetrated our little bubble of silence.

"It is good to see you," I said at last.

The years had been good to her. Her tan had darkened a little and she had reached an impressive height, almost as tall as I myself stood. She had a sleek pair of arms that were toned with the slight edges of muscle. I couldn't see any scars on her and I flinched when I realised that she was probably wondering about mine.

"I wish I could say the same Harry," she was using her quiet voice, her way of trying not to cry, "What happened to you? You look like you've been dragged through the past five years on your face? What happened with..."

"Voldemort?" I asked after five seconds.

She nodded.

"Well, that's a long story. How much do you know already?" I asked.

"Only as much as is in the history books," she answered.

I was irrationally angry for a second. She knew about me being in the magical world and yet she hadn't tried to contact me...

That feeling was crushed by guilt.

I ran away, it was hardly her fault for not chasing after me.

"After I ran away...what did you do?" I asked, genuinely curious but also shame faced.

"It was horrible Harry," she said, not quite outright screaming at me but I could see the sentiment and hear the hurt in her voice. "I thought you had died. I thought that they had..." She tapered off and I raised my hand. I was suddenly uncertain as to what to do.

My hand found her shoulder and she stopped looking down.

"I was so angry when it came out that you had run away. Angry at the Dursleys, angry at you for leaving me...hurt that you didn't come to me for help first. And then the magical offers came through for several magic schools and it was killing me. What if you came back and I wasn't there? My parents took control a few weeks later. You remember how we were planning on moving anyway..." Hermione stopped again.

I nodded, stupefied by her reaction. She was never one for sobbing and was in my opinion, the strongest person I had ever known.

I hated myself for being the cause of her pain, no matter how long ago it had been.

"Then...then I left for Beauxbatons. I found out about your...story in the first week. I'm so sorry, Harry," she said, her voice failing her at random intervals now.

"I...Thank you," I murmerd.

My parents death had been buried in my soul for a long time now. I was simply glad she acknowledge the loss.

She smiled weakly and looked up for the first time in several minutes.

"I was wondering if you knew yourself, whether you had been found and brought into the Wizarding world. I...I didn't know whether to write. I wasn't sure whether the owl could find you and...," she lowered her voice to a whisper, "I wasn't sure if you wanted to hear from me."

I hugged her then, it was the only thing I could do in good conscious. I didn't trust myself to speak and explain how I felt properly... and I wasn't going to run from her again.

"You know, to be honest I only came here to see how well you did," she said with a small voice into my chest.

"Hmm. To share a little secret..." I whispered, leaning in closer, our foreheads touching now, "...I was thinking the exact same thing"

We both laughed at that.

Suddenly she dragged me into the queuing line.

"I shall be most interested to see your results, Mr Potter," she said in an incredible imitation of Minerva McGonnagal.

I told her so, and she laughed.

McGonnagal was a legend in life when it came to the teaching world, even in France.

I barely gave my slip a glance and don't even unfold it.

Hermione was driving me through the stalls and the markets, seeing and doing everything at once.

Suddenly I tugged back, sending us both spinning around each other in the snow, the flickering lights from the stalls whirling past us.

We were dancing.

Dancing! In fairly good time with the music flowing through the air too.

I spotted Luna as we were running through the place again, two teenagers suddenly ten again. The little blonde girl raised her eyebrows high above the band than split her face horizontally in half, and turned her sightless eyes towards me as we went past.

"Shut up," I murmured, in Luna's direction.

"What?" my companion said, looking up at me.

"She's internally questioning my sanity...raising her eyebrows at me smiling. What cheek!"

We talked as such for what seemed like years. I was turning back from a stall selling all kinds of rare books when I spotted her sitting on a step, already reading through her selection.

Our eyes met and suddenly, we knew we needed to talk about less pleasant things.

"I'm sorry."

"Me too."

"I should have known that if I was magic, you were going to be. You always were..." I tailed off. She was always what?

As if I was really about to say that I thought she was magical?

Where had I got this gushiness from? Why the hell did I believe it to be true anyway?

I felt my cheeks...I was blushing?

When was the last time that had happened?

Hermione was distracted however, biting her lip indicating that she was extremely concerned about something.

I tried to pull her back into reality.

"I see you came prepared," I observed, looking at her wooly hat and gloves, her winter coat and her scarf.

"See you haven't," she said, not quite coming out of her thoughts.

I indeed had not come prepared for any long stay in the outdoor weather. That she had insisted on wandering through a frosty garden for forty minutes was, I think, her punishment for me. 'Always come prepared' was something we agreed to...so long ago when we thought the world would always be predictable.

"It's a rather beautiful picture isn't it?" I asked, in reference to the window next to me showing us a view of frozen forests and the river.

"Picture? Silly you, this is the real world," her reply came seamlessly, hitting me with a pang.

She had said the very same thing twelve years ago when I had confused a picture book with the view outside.

Sometimes I loved that she remembered as much as me, before I then thought of how painful viewing some of those memories must have been for her.

The times when either of us had been bullied, the times when the Durselys had been especially cruel.

I don't think I told even her about the cupboard...or the occasional beatings.

But she knew enough to worry.

"So how did you do?" she asked me.

I glanced at her, confused for a second before I remembered my secondary reason for coming here.

"Oh right...I don't know. I haven't looked," I admitted, feeling a little foolish at not doing so.

"I would be cross at your lack of excitement, but to be fair to you, I haven't looked at mine either."

"No?"

"No."

"I would have thought you at least would be interested in your results."

"I am interested, just not in my results," she said.

"Swap then?" I offered, thinking that it would be nice to see some good marks before looking at my own.

Her marks were good. Very good.

Annoyingly good.

"I can safely say that you have passed, Miss Granger," I said with a straight face, passing her marks back.

She ignored the outstretched hand and plunged into a close hug.

"You did brilliantly, Harry."

"In all fairness, probably not as good as-"

"No," she interrupted, "If I did anything close to what you did, I'll be happy."

"Hmm, you are going to be very happy then," I said, muffled slightly by her scarf.

Our results turned out to be almost identical.

We were strolling outside when the event began to wind down.

I wasn't looking forward to leaving and I doubted she was either.

"So are you walking or..."

I saw the look on her face. Being so cavalier about leaving now after everything we'd done today was an insult.

"Sorry. I just-"

"You find it so easy to leave."

Her accusation hung in the air.

"You always find it too easy to leave."

"I spent five years looking for you, you know," I said, not meeting her gaze, unwilling to let her see the truth of her statement in my face.

"And I was waiting long before then for you to show one damn honest smile on your face. Not just that one you wore when we were playing, but a sweet smile, a happy smile. Every time you used to smile you looked so sad."

"I tried...

"You remember that teacher we had in nursery?" Hermione said, not letting up, "You let her hold your hand, but that was it. Everyone else got a hug off her but for some reason you never-"

"You were the first."

Silence.

"You were the first person who hugged me. I think...you might have been the first to make me smile too."

"Oh..."

"I won't say that today was a mistake'" I said in a voice that sounded otherwise. "I enjoyed seeing you again. It was the best Christmas I've ever had."

"Harry, stop-"

"No...no, I still see you as my friend, my confidant, the only family...the only family I've ever had. But I'm not going to hurt you again. I can barely live with myself already. So if this is it...I will walk away. I wish you the best. Go back to your life Hermione. Mine is...as you say, sad."

I don't know how long we spent facing each other. I was freezing by now.

The only sign from her about the weather was the tinged red nose. I wasn't sure the cold was responsible for her moist eyes.

There didn't seem to be anything more to say.

I don't clearly remember who turned away first.

I like to think neither of us did.

I have a horrible feeling that it was me though, that I gave up first and left my friend staring helplessly into the darkness after me.

I don't know what she was thinking, but I was lost in memories of today. I tried to throw away the images of her smile, her prepared pocket full of gloves and hats. It was futile however.

She was still my Hermione.

And I was her Harry.