AN - Hey, guys, this is my first fanfic so I hope you enjoy! Let me just tell you that this chapter doesn't hold that much Harry/Hermione stuff yet. In fact, it may seem the opposite, but a reason will come in good time. Rated T for reasons :D

Disclaimer: None of the Harry Potter franchise belongs to me, if it did I would be so RICH! Wouldn't that be neat?

JUNE 1, 1998

It's been two months since the downfall of the Dark Lord, Voldemort. The muggle community was mostly oblivious to this fact, except for the dubbed "Owl Shower", the same thing that happened 17 years prior. The wizarding families were both extremely happy but also devastatingly sad. Voldemort was finally taken down, yes, but at what cost? Almost every family that had children attending Hogwarts has suffered some kind of loss, be it a son or daughter for standing up against the Dark Lord, or a parent who was a Death Eater that ended up in Azkaban. Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry was rebuilt in a matter of weeks, thanks to Goblin magic. The Ministry of Magic, run by Kingsley Shacklebolt, encouraged Hogwarts to reopen. The whole staff changed, with Minerva McGonagall as lead Headmistress and Filius Flitwick as Deputy Headmaster. The Hogwarts Express had just pulled out of Platform 9¾ when a certain black-haired teen had just triggered some hot water that was sure to come his way.

In a small house that was more or less tucked away in a small city that could be found a ways from England, a certain Hermione Granger had just plopped down onto her comfy sofa. The young woman had decided in her two months of Voldemort-free time that she would not go back to Hogwarts, despite the fact that she was Hermione Granger, the girl that would give anything for school. But she was also Hermione Granger, the woman who would give anything for her family back. Now she knew how Harry Potter would feel. No, scratch that. She never will. She lost her parents because she wanted to keep them safe. Harry had lost his because of some rampaging, murderous, white-faced prick. Hermione sighed, shoving her face into her arms, starting to lightly sob. She could never bring her parents back. Their memories about her were gone, lost in oblivion, vanished from life itself. And nothing can bring that back. And of course thinking about lost family made her think about Harry.

The Boy-Who-Lived. The Chosen One. The One-Who-Defeated-You-Know-Who. These are all names coined to the legendary boy that were given to him based on his ability to defeat Voldemort. Unfortunately, most didn't know that Harry hated all those names. And the fact was, to Hermione, Harry Potter was just that. Harry Potter. Nothing more. Yes, she thought of him as her savior at the time of the troll attack in the girls laboratory. But then, since the seemingly small confession at the end of the search for the Philosopher's Stone, Hermione's perspective changed. See, Hermione looks into things, things that really don't have any purpose to be looked into. But that's just her sixth sense. So when Harry said, "Not as good as you," as a reply to the girl telling him how great he was, she realized something. Maybe it was the way he said it, or the way his eyes shifted downwards in shame, but it was certain, to Hermione at least. The thing was, Harry doubted himself. And it didn't help when she saw Vernon Dursley at the train station, either. She couldn't get him to talk to her about his life at Privet Drive, but at the night of Pettigrew's escape in the Third Year, Hermione learned more information. The girl had woken up in the Hospital Wing and looked at Harry, who was awake, but barely himself. Hermione learned that he was on some anesthesia meds at the time, and she somewhat abused the fact that he was in a high and drunken state. She asked him if he was having trouble at the Dursleys, and Harry admitted to being badly abused. Hermione was glad that Harry had not remembered the conversation when he woke up an hour later, but she still felt guilty and angry at her findings. Ever since, Hermione had been slowly unraveling her best friend's life apart, careful not to raise suspicion. Needless to say, she found out more about Harry in the Fifth and Seventh Year than any of the years combined.

So that brought her back to the present. After the defeat of Voldemort, Harry left for Godric's Hollow, not caring about anybody else. He left Grimmauld Place and told Hermione that he would just leave it to rot. Sadness crept through her brain and out through her despaired sigh as she realized that the only person the boy had talked to was her. Not Ron, not Ginny, not anybody, just Hermione. And that was only twice. Harry would keep his house locked unless he opened it, and he seemed to lose weight and bags started forming under his eyes. Hermione knew he kept sequestered in his cottage and only left to get food. And the fact that Harry kept blaming himself for everybody's death didn't help. So the girl took the liberty and forced him to promise to go to Hogwarts with Ron. It took some time and a few shouts were emitted but Harry did end up agreeing that he should go. Sighing, Hermione closed her eyes and refused to cry when she thought of some of the hurtful things she said.

Tap!

Hermione blinked her eyes open quickly, scanning the room, her hand already grasping her wand.

Tap!

Turning around, Hermione looked out towards her window, sighing as she saw a rock hit her window. Grumbling, she stalked over to the window, opened it, and was about to yell at the kids she saw a couple of meters away when something flew past her and hit her wall. Hermione, upon closer examination, realised that it was not a rock, but a very tiny bird. An owl. It was Pigwidgeon! Murmuring softly, the girl picked up the small owl, rubbing its tiny head. "Pig, what are you doing here?" Hermione inquired. The owl simply hooted and fluttered down to the ground, where there was a letter. "Oh," Hermione stated, unsure of what to say. Why? Wasn't it, what, five hours since the Hogwarts Express left the station? Why was Ron mailing her so soon? Groaning, she reached down to pick up the letter and Pigwidgeon zoomed past her and out the window, which Hermione promptly closed. Sighing, Hermione plopped down on her sofa again, opening the letter without looking at it. She pulled out the letter and looked at the scrawl of Ronald Weasley.

Hermione,

Hey, I just wanted to let you know that I'm sorry I mailed you so soon, but I feel this has some importance. You see, after massive searching of the train, Neville and I concluded that Harry never boarded at all. I don't know what he's playing at! Why is he so distant? Can you find that out for me? I'm really worried, because I thought he would be happy to go back to school. I don't expect a reply just now. Maybe talk things over with Harry, but please don't hurt his feelings. He suffered a lot, you know.

Thanks again,

Ronald Weasley

Though the letter was extremely short, and Hermione had the ability to read a paragraph in a matter of seconds, said girl was having a difficult time processing it. Her eyes skipped over certain words, as if she didn't want to read those certain parts. After five long, dragged out minutes, the letter was fully read, and Hermione felt both saddened and angry at Harry's betrayal. Grasping letter tightly, she yanked apart hard, fatally ripping the page apart. Ron had told her not to hurt Harry's feelings, but why shouldn't she? The prat needed to be pushed around a lot. Hermione got up and stormed out on the front porch, making sure to slam the door extra hard, and dissaperated out into the afternoon.

Harry sat down on his dining room chair in Godric's Hollow, yawning widely. Today had been a weird day. The boy had woken up at 11:00, already late to the Hogwarts Express. Harry knew that Hermione had wanted him to go, but frankly, he didn't want to. His excuse of being late would just have to do. But it probably won't. Harry had the strong suspicion that a few hours after the train left, Ron would send a letter to Hermione, and Hermione would come straight to his house. The teen shut his eyes and waited for the worst.

Crack!

There it was! A few seconds passed, and Harry casted a silencing charm on all the windows and doors right when Hermione burst through the door, her hair wild and eyes narrowed into slits. Harry fought the will to flinch and just stared back at her, thinking out this conversation.

"Well?" Hermione shouted, spraying spit everywhere. Suddenly, Harry's excuse was plain and small. How in hell was his excuse gonna get by? Sighing, he looked down at the ground, resigning his strength.

"I was late," he grumbled, almost feeling the glare his friend shot in his direction.

"Late?" Hermione inquired, her voice starting to rise. Harry could do nothing but nod, a small head tilt. "You bloody prat!" The boy grasped his pockets tightly, his nails scraping against the denim. "You're lying!" Hermione spat at him. "You would have gotten there in plenty time and you know it. I know it's hard for you to sleep, so why suddenly sleep a ton on the night you weren't supposed to?"

Harry's head shot up and stared into the brown pools of anger on her friend's face. "And how would you know? Maybe I've been recovering! Is it that you lost your trust in me? Do you not care to know how your friend is feeling?" the teen shouted, his voice echoing off the walls. Hermione walked over to him and punched him as hard as she could. After recovering, Harry could smell blood on his upper lip and tears threatened to pull from his eyes.

"I care about you very much, you selfish imbecile! If I didn't care, I wouldn't be trying to get you to go to Hogwarts so you wouldn't feel like the sad loser you are!" Hermione growled, her face screwed into so much anger it rivaled Ron's at the night of his flight on the Horcrux search.

Harry stood up abruptly, pointed to the door angrily, and shrieked, "GET OUT!" Hermione huffed, then dissaperated right there, in the middle of the room, leaving a large hole in the wall. "Fuck you!" he shouted at the empty space, startling some passerby outside. Harry pointed his wand towards his room, and his trunk appeared with all his clothes inside. He took out a quill and parchment, ready to leave a note to Hermione saying he was leaving. Harry paused. After what happened a few seconds ago, Harry couldn't care less if Hermione couldn't find him. Instead, he wrote down the three words he meant to say all those times when they were alone. He dropped the parchment on the couch, the threatening tears finally letting loose. He looked at the letter one last time, and whispered the words that were displayed on there. "I love you!" before disappearing into the night.

AN - Hope you enjoyed it, maybe I also hoped that was a good place to leave it off. Nothing like a good cliffhanger, right? Like I said, the real Harry/Hermione stuff is gonna happen in a few chapters' time. Until then, enjoy yourselves.