So, this song is a lot sadder than this oneshot is supposed to be. I've just been having a crappy couple of months, so I've been listening to this song a lot and I was like, "I can make a companion piece to Easy Silence with this!" And thus it was born.
If you haven't read Easy Silence, it would probably be better to read it first, but it's not necessary. But I would be happy if you read both :-)
Globes and Maps(AKA the greatest song ever) belongs to Something Corporate. A few of the lyrics were changed to fit the song, but unless you listen to this song non-stop like I do, you wont notice.
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Light breaks underneath a heavy door
And I try to keep myself awake
Fall all around us on my bedroom floor
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Hermione Granger felt like her life was falling apart. Though the Dark Lord had been dead for a week now, life wasn't happy like she thought it would be. The Weasley's were in mourning, Andromeda was in mourning, and, most devastatingly of all, Harry was in mourning. She had barely seen him since the battle, and the young witch was starting to worry.
The few occasions that Hermione had seen Harry had been brief, fleeting, accidental. A late night quest for a class of milk a few days previous had brought her upon his shadowy form lurking in the kitchen. As soon as he caught a sense of her presence, though, Harry had been out the door in a flash, muttering something about "fresh-air".
The only other time she saw her best friend was in the wee hours of the morning the day before. Awoken by a dark nightmare of Bellatrix LeStrange's laughing face, Hermione had perched herself on the ledge of the sole window in the room she was sharing with Ginny. As she looked up, the first bloody lights of the dawn illuminated the figure of Harry, perched on the window sill a few stories above.
It might have been a trick of the light, but Harry's face looked gaunt and troubled and a million years old to Hermione. As soon as he realized she was staring at him, he climbed back into the house, shutting the window.
Hermione had tried to talk to Ron about Harry, but he said he couldn't get two words out of his best friend. According to the youngest Weasley son, Harry Potter would not eat or talk or even crack a smile. He was a walking corpse, no life in his face at all. But the loss of a brother weighed heavily on Ron, and he couldn't worry about Harry. Not when Fred was gone.
But Hermione couldn't do anything else. It was in her nature to worry, and it was a habit to worry about Harry. She knew he was hurting and that he wished to be alone, but it hurt her to be ignored by her closest friend.
While Ron was trying to convince George to play Quidditch one day a week after Voldemort's death, Hermione quietly climbed the stairs to the attic bedroom he shared with Harry. She pushed the door open slowly, shocked at how dark the room was. While the neon-orange décor of Ron's room always blinded her, it seemed dull and depressed. The blinds were drawn and the only light that came in was from the hallway behind Hermione.
"Harry?" She whispered, closing the door behind her. A frail figure was curled on one of the beds in the room, back to the girl. She tentatively sat on the edge, placing her hand on his shoulder. He made no movement, no sign of recognition.
"Harry? Please, talk to me." He said nothing, staring blankly at the wall. Hermione felt her heart slowly falling apart. Rejection was something she was used to, but she had hoped beyond hope that she would never experience it from Harry.
She said nothing for a minute, blinking back tears and composing her voice. The young witch then stood briskly, walking towards the door. As she reached it, she turned, and asked, "Harry… Do you…find me a burden? Should I just leave? Go find my parents and stay away from you for the rest of my life? Do I burden you?"
Harry sat up quickly, voice hoarse as he replied, "No, Hermione. Never."
She walked back towards him, sitting beside her best friend on his bed. "Then why have you been hiding from me?"
He looked down, unable to avoid her piercing glare. "I…I don't want to make you sad."
Hermione flung her arms around his neck, pulling the boy into a tight hug. "Oh, Harry!" He hugged her back, and Hermione noticed that his arms were a bit too thin, his shoulders much too bony. She pulled back, placing a hand on his face as she examined it. His hair was limp and tame and his complexion pale. Hermione took off his glasses, finding the damage much worse without their cover. His eyes were listless and rimmed with dark circles and his cheeks were dangerously sunken.
Hermione stared at Harry's skeletal arms with such intensity that Harry noticed and, as if reading her mind, pulled off his shirt for her to see his prominent ribcage and sunken stomach. The young girl gasped, hand over mouth as he pulled his shirt back on, falling back onto the bed.
She slowly handed him his glasses back, then sat next to him, eyes wide as she thought. Then, a determined look lit up her face as she came to a conclusion.
"Let's run away."
Harry stared at her incredulously. "What?"
Hermione grabbed his hands, kneeling on the ground in front of him. "You, me, and no one else. Let's just get away from England for a while."
He stared at her, trying to comprehend what his best friend was saying. Then, he answered, slowly and unsurely.
"A-alright…"
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And you think that you've made a mistake
And there's a pain in my heart from another sleepless night
And I struggle to get myself up again
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"I don't know about this Hermione." Harry stared at the looming shadow of the Burrow, unwilling to move past the comfort of the dark. It was quite early, not yet dawn, and Harry and Hermione stood outside, rucksacks packed. A short note had been left on the kitchen counter for Mrs. Weasley, thanking her for her kindness and telling her not to worry.
"It will be good for you, Harry. You need a vacation." Hermione took his hand, pulling him gently towards the path that led out of the protective barriers. He stood in his place, grimacing.
"But what about the Weasley's? I should stay and help them…" Hermione sighed, exasperated.
"Harry, please, be selfish for once in your life."
There was a pause, then Harry quietly replied, "I should be telling you that."
Hermione smiled softly, tugging once more on his hand. He followed this time, and the two walked away from the home that held so much sadness, into the unknown world._
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I wanna hang onto something
That won't break away or fall apart
Like the pieces of my heart
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They went to Australia first, making sure that Hermione's parents were doing well. But they didn't stay long; watching her parents live happily without her pained the young girl in more ways than she could count. They moved on quickly to the neighboring New Zealand, where they found a small wizarding village settled neatly on the coast. They were quick to recognize the savior of their world, but after a few hushed words from Hermione, kindly did not contact the Daily Prophet with the new whereabouts of the Man-Who-Conquered.
At first, Harry obediently followed Hermione around as she took him to the mountains and waterfalls and wizarding spots of historical significance. But after a week he started politely refusing, taking to his room for hours at a time.
It was all Hermione could do to not cry.
Some days, when she had more energy, she would quite literally force Harry to go to the beach with her. She would bring a book and pretend to read, but Harry always distracted her. The way he laid down in the sand, sadly watching the waves crash onto the shore, the way his shirt moved eerily around his body, as if he were blowing away like the sand he was sitting in.
On one of these excursions, Harry fell asleep where he was reclined in the sand. As Hermione moved to wake him up, he grabbed her arm, eyes moving frantically behind his eyelids as he dreamt. She placed her hand on his head, nudging him gently until he woke up. As his eyes sprang open, he released his grasp from her arm, and walked away, leaving Hermione with her heart falling to pieces in the sand.
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And globes and maps are all around me now
I wanna feel you breathe me
Globes and maps I see surround you here
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They quickly moved on to Spain, after giving a rushed thanks to the kind villagers. They settled down in a small flat above a wizard market place, where the smells of hot food and the sounds of laughing children could reach them easily. Hermione found it to be a delightful place, full of history and culture.
But Harry's mood did not improve. In fact, it seemed to worsen. He kept to himself more and more, until Hermione stopped worrying about neighbors reporting his location to the papers. For all they knew, Harry was still at the Burrow, sleeping off his victory.
But Hermione would have given anything to have Harry out in the open, smiling under the Spanish sun as wizarding children ran past, playing with toy wands and brooms.
She was beginning to wonder if it had been a bad idea to take Harry away from his adopted family. Maybe he had only agreed to come with her to be nice. Maybe he was regretting ever saying yes to her.
But Hermione was too afraid of rejection to ask. For the time being, she would just pretend he wanted to be with her, two friends on a vacation. She had always been good at lying to herself.
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Why won't you believe me?
Globes and maps they charter your way back home
Do you wanna leave or something?
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Hermione knew the signs of suicidal tendencies better than anyone she knew. Depressions ran her family, on her mother's side, and she had lost an Aunt and nearly a cousin to it's poisonous effects. So when the hairs on the back of her neck began to stick up as she observed Harry, she knew she was right to worry.
They had been in Spain for about two weeks, and she had barely seen him eat a thing. He would not speak to her, would not smile, wouldn't even get out of bed. As hard as she tried to force-feed him, to tell him jokes, to get him to come to the market with her, Hermione just couldn't get through to Harry.
She realized one night, as she chopped some tomatoes for a dinner for two that would only be enjoyed by one, that she had been worried about Harry…leaving her prematurely long before the end of the war. There had been things he had said to her, small nuances of wishing for the peace of death, that had struck fear in her heart, fear for the loss of her best friend.
This realization in mind, Hermione found that this underlying fear had played a greater part in her running away than anything else.
She had asked Harry to go away with her, because she was afraid he would do it by himself, permanently.
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And I can't take this anymore
Well I know that I can't take this anymore
I can't take this anymore
'Cause I know someday I'll see you walk out that door
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Harry stared at Hermione as she left his room, a frustrated expression on her face. Harry covered his face in agony, wishing Hermione would come back. But he knew she was only with him because she pitied his pathetic state; she was surely regretting her decision to stay with him. Who would put themselves through this kind of torment?
Harry knew he had to let her go. He wasn't quite sure where he'd go once she was gone, but France sounded nice. He could live on a secluded beach and wallow in his pain as a hermit for the rest of his life.
A lump formed in his throat at that prospect. He didn't want Hermione to leave. He wanted her to stay by his side like she had been doing since they were eleven years old. But he also loved Hermione, and wanted her to go back to England and marry Ron and be happy.
The thought sickened him as much as it delighted him.
The next day, though, he made up his mind. Hermione needed to stop wasting her life with him and go back home. She could go back to Hogwarts and finish up her education with Ginny and Ron, then get some important Ministry job and do the world some good.
It was late in the afternoon before Harry could pull himself together enough to go through with his plan, though. He came into the small living area where Hermione was reading, and sat on the arm of her chair. She looked up, surprised, setting down the book. "Harry?"
He cleared his throat, looking away. "Er…you know, you can leave. You don't have to stay with me."
He had said the words too harshly for his liking, but it needed to be done. Hermione looked taken aback. "Do you want me to leave?" She asked in a small voice. Harry could not say anything, but nodded tersely.
She looked down, tears forming in her eyes. "Okay. Let me go pack and I'll be gone." Before Harry could see her cry, Hermione had dashed into her room, locking her door. Harry resisted the urge to punch the wall as he slid into a chair, head in hands.
Twenty minutes later and Hermione stood in the living room, bag packed. Harry stood in front of her, eyes on the ground. Neither said a word, an awkward silence suffocating them. Finally Hermione spoke, voice quiet and wavering. "Well…goodbye, Harry."
"Bye." Hermione placed her hand on his arm for a second, then turned on the spot, disappearing into thin air.
Harry slid against the wall, letting a few tears escape down his cheeks.
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And dreams came around you in a hazy rain
You opened your mouth wide to feel them fall
And I write a letter, from a one-way train
But I don't think he'll read it at all
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Hermione let out a sob as she appeared on a hill overlooking the Burrow, sinking to her knees. Rejection hurt; she had felt it's white-hot stab before. But now it just felt like her heart had been torn to pieces.
As she composed herself, she thought of Harry, all alone in the tiny flat. Who would force him to eat? Who would talk to him if he never left his room? Who would stop him from…leaving?
Pictures of his cold, dead body flashed through her mind as she stood up, nearly sending her back to the ground. They involved nooses and bottles of poison and knives, all surrounded by flashes of green light. Harry would die if she left him alone, Hermione was certain of that.
Suddenly, a new body appeared next to Harry's in her visions. A smaller one, with bushy brown hair. In that moment, Hermione realized that she could not live in a world without Harry. With a fleeting glance towards the Burrow, the witch turned on the spot, apparating away.
As soon as she appeared in her bedroom in the Spanish flat, she stormed through the door, to where Harry sat against the wall of the living room.
In a flurry of emotions Hermione threw her bag into a chair roughly, throat tightening. "I'm sorry, Harry, but I can't do this. I can't leave you here by yourself. I'm just so…afraid. Afraid you'll leave me…for good. And I can't lose you, Harry. I can't lose you again."
Harry stared up at her, eyes wide as he watched the girl confess her fears to him. She looked so frail, standing there hunched over and crying, arms dangling uselessly at her sides.
He got up slowly, wrapping Hermione in a hug. "I'm sorry, Hermione. I thought you wanted to leave. I thought you were regretting your decision to stay with me."
She looked at him incredulously though her tears. "No, Harry. Never."
He smiled, pulling her back to him. And, in a moment of tender care that Hermione had never witnessed from Harry, he kissed her head, lips lingering on her hairline as he reveled in the scent of vanilla and old books.
They stayed in Spain another week, then boarded a train to France. Hermione had always loved trains, and Harry had only ever ridden the Hogwarts Express, so they decided to do as the muggles did. As Harry dozed off, Hermione wrote a long letter to Ron, explaining everything in detail. She was so sure he would burn the letter as soon as he saw who it was from, but she had to try. He was, after all, her other best friend, and she had neglected him far too long.
As soon as they settled in, in the rented attic room of a sea-side cottage, Hermione borrowed the owl of the cottage's owners and sent the letter to Ron, few hopes for a reply.
But a reply did come. In the beginning of the letter, Ron seemed angry; the remnants of a school-boy crush and a sense of abandonment. But farther along in the letter he calmed down and seemed genuinely concerned about Harry. Hermione couldn't have asked for a better reaction, writing back immediately. And thus began their secret correspondence.
That night, Hermione discovered another problem of Harry's that she had not realized before; his nightmares. Sure, Hermione had frequent nightmares, usually starring Bellatrix or Fenrir Greyback, but of late Harry had been playing a guest role, saving her from the demons that plagued her. Harry, on the other hand, seemed to have no savior to protect his subconscious.
Hermione was changing into her pajamas behind a screen she and hung up between their beds when Harry started moaning. Quickly pulling on a large shirt to cover her undergarments, she rushed out to find Harry, sweating and shaking in bed. He was muttering to himself, voice strained.
"No…no, please not her…no…" Hermione placed a hand on Harry's forehead, wondering if he was relieving his mother's death.
"Harry…" She whispered, shaking him gently.
"No. No, no, no, no….NO! NO! Not her, please, I'll do anything!" He tossed and turned, shivering violently. Hermione shook him again, a bit harder.
"Harry, wake up. Har-oh!" She gasped as he grabbed arm, digging his nails painfully into her flesh. She bit her lip, trying to remove his hand from her arm in vain. His face was one of pure anguish, and she tried to shake him awake again.
"NO! NO! NOT HER! TAKE ME INSTEAD! NOT HER! NOT HE- NO! HERMIONE NO! HERMIONE!" He was screaming as he woke, tears streaming down his face. As he saw her face, he released his deathgrip on her arm and pulled her into a hug, sobbing into her shoulder. Hermione stroked his back, breaking away only when Collette, the granddaughter of the kind old man who was renting the attic room, ran up the stairs to see what was wrong. She quickly fetched them some water, then left them alone. Harry would not let go of Hermione for the rest of the night, and they fell asleep that way, wrapped in each other's arms.
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And globes and maps are all around me now
I wanna feel you breathe me
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It was Christmas Eve, and Harry was smiling.
Yes, smiling. The sight of it was the best present Hermione could have asked for, lighting up their attic room like the star on top of the Christmas tree. He told her to bundle up in warm clothes and to hold on to his arm as they apparated away for the evening. Hermione couldn't argue with him; he actually wanted to go somewhere. Two impossibilities in one evening. It really was a Christmas miracle.
Hermione gasped as she realized where they were. Back in England, in the village of Godric's Hollow. It was exactly the same as it had been a year ago, except there was no fear of capture looming over their heads now. Harry led Hermione to the old graveyard, a small smile still on his face as he passed by the Dumbledores and Abbotts and other recognizable names till he found the grave he was looking for.
Harry knelt by the tombstone, pulling Hermione beside him. He brushed back some snow from the two names, then started to whisper. "Hey Mum, hey Dad. I guess this is the start of a tradition, if you don't count the fact that an evil, horcrux-powered snake isn't waiting to kill me this time." Hermione nearly died of shock when she heard his attempt at a joke.
"Um, well, I don't think you were properly introduced last year. This is Hermione, the most wonderful girl I have ever known." Hermione blushed, squeezing Harry's hand. "You'll really like her, Mum. She smart, like you were, and a muggle-born like you as well. She's really been helping me these last couple of months. It's been hard, and it will continue to be hard, but I know I can make it through as long as she is by my side…" He paused to lower his lips to her cheek, then he wrapped his arm around her shoulder. "Like she always has been."
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Globes and maps I see surround you here
Why won't you believe me?
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Shortly after Christmas, Harry and Hermione left France with promises to come back and visit the family they had stayed with for so many months. Young Collette, a pretty, round-faced girl of fifteen, gave Hermione an old camera as she and Harry left, to record the progress of the mental health of the Man-Who-Conquered. Hermione thanked the girl and promised to send pictures as soon as she could.
They never stayed anywhere as long as they had stayed in France. A week in Germany, two in Prague. They even spent a week and a half with Viktor Krum in Bulgaria after he promised not to tell Ginny, his newly found pen-pal, of their whereabouts. He did show them an interesting article from the Daily Prophet she had sent him, though, starring the world's favorite trio. The headline read: Where is the boy-who-lived?All of England had been in an uproar when they discovered their hero and one of his loyal companions were missing. Luckily, Ron had agreed to an interview, and had answered the question quite plainly, "On a well-deserved and long-needed vacation."
After bidding farewell to Viktor, they moved on to Greece, Turkey, India, across Asia and into Africa, South America, North America, then back to France, happily welcomed back by Collette and her grandfather. Hermione documented their explorations well, grateful for the camera Collette had gifted to her. The girl loved sitting by the fire, listening to where they went and what they saw. She was kind enough not to ask about the War, and for that Harry loved the young girl even more.
One night, Hermione came up from her shower to find Harry missing. She searched frantically, until she heard laughter coming from outside. As she followed the noise, she found Harry and Collette sitting in a tree, telling stories from school and summer adventures with friends. Harry's hair was a mess, sticking up everywhere like it used to. Collette's was the same, the two dirty blonde braids always threatening to burst. She looked up to Harry as a brother, an admiration that seemed to be good for the wizard. Hermione raced back inside and grabbed the camera, then stood beneath the tree as she caught permanent proof of Harry's laughter, something she had not heard in years.
It was Collette's last night in town before she left for her fifth year at Beauxbatons. Her grandfather, Pierre, took them all into the wizarding village of Soleil for dinner. As they walked down the street, a guitarist and a singer on the curb began to play a song, and Harry, in a moment of pure happiness, twirled Hermione around the village square, her blue dress flying everywhere. Collette laughed and snapped a few pictures of the scene; One for Harry and Hermione, one for their friend Ron, and one for herself, to keep on her bedside table at school. She knew her surrogate brother and sister would not be there when she got back for Christmas. Harry was too happy. They would be going home soon.
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Globes and maps they chart your way back home
So do you wanna leave? Do you wanna leave?
Globes and maps they chart your way back home
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Hermione sat on the floor of their attic room, tapping her favorite picture of Harry with her wand. Using a spell that Pierre taught her and Harry, she stood in front of the picture, smiling. Then, she began to speak.
"Hello, Ron. Isn't this a neat trick? A kind old wizard showed it to us, here in France. We'll teach it to you when we get back. Which, if Harry's mood is any incentive, will be very soon. We both miss you terribly, and are feeling quite homesick and cannot wait to get back to England." It was true. Though they both loved Pierre and Collette very much and were very grateful for their company and hospitality, they were both ready to go home.
"Harry is doing so well. This picture I've sent you is proof. He smiles, he laughs, he sleeps… it's like having our old friend back again. Like a part of him didn't die at the battle." A lump formed in her throat, but she kept talking.
"Speaking of which, how is the family holding up? I wish we could have stayed and helped out, but Harry was just so…I couldn't force him to hurt himself anymore. But how is your mum? Your dad? George? How's little Teddy? I know Harry is dying to see his godson again. Is Andromeda holding up alright?" The family had to be alright, or Hermione couldn't let Harry go home.
"And you, Ronald Weasley? How are you? Have you proposed to Violet yet? Will there be wedding bells ringing when we return? I do hope so. She sounds lovely and I am dying to meet her." This was so true. Hermione and Harry had heard nothing but talk about Violet for the past year, and Ron had even confessed that he was planning on proposing soon. This was another reason they were dying to get home.
"Well, I must go. Harry will be back soon and I'm sure he doesn't want me talking about his feelings to anyone else. Boys…" She rolled her eyes. "We miss you, Ron, and we'll be home soon. Very soon." She blew him a kiss and tapped the picture again. Then, borrowing Francoise, Pierre's owl, she sent it off to Ron.
A few hours later, after Francoise had returned with a reply for Hermione, Harry stole the bird and one of the pictures of him and Hermione dancing in Soleil. Using Pierre's spell, he recorded his own message.
"Hey, Ron. How is everyone? Is George alright? And your parents and Ginny? And Teddy? Is the little tyke eating enough? Is he happy? I have so much to teach him when we return. I know Hermione snuck you a picture behind my back while I was out, and I hope she didn't go on and on about my feelings or anything. I'm fine. I'm better than fine…I'm happy." He spoke the truth, feeling a small flash of triumph as he said the words.
"These last two years have been hard, especially on Hermione, though she would never admit it. She's been wonderful, and I can't imagine anyone more perfect in the entire world. There's just this…I don't know, easy silence when I'm with her. Neither of us has to say anything and we know what the other is thinking. She's been the quiet I've been craving since I found out about the prophecy, since Sirius died… She's the one, Ron. I know it, deep in my gut. She's my everything." Though Harry and Hermione weren't dating, or even romantically inclined, Harry could just feel it. He knew she was the only girl for him.
"Now, stepping away from the sentimental crap, how is your significant other? Have you proposed yet? Or, more importantly, told her about the magical world yet? I hope that goes okay, mate. But from the sounds of her, she's a keeper. I honestly can't wait to meet her." He stopped, thinking.
"We'll be home soon. Very soon. I just hope your family can forgive us for running off like that. I hope you can forgive us, too. We miss you so much Ron, and are excited to come home and see you." He tapped the picture, then sent away Francoise with one of his most personal revelations tied to her leg.
A few weeks later and they were ready to go home. They had bid farewell to Pierre, promising to write every day and visit on holidays to see Collette. Though Harry tried to pay him for all he had done for the couple, the old man refused, insisting that saving the magical world was payment enough.
They sat on the naked floor of their attic room, now stripped of pictures and decorations. They left a few for Collette to find, but packed most of them to take home to Ron.
"I can't believe, after all this time, we're finally going home." Hermione muttered, putting the final touches to her packing. Harry nodded, lost in thought.
He watched her as she worked, astounded. This girl was a miracle. She had given up everything for him, had stuck by his side through Hell and back. And in that instant, Harry knew that he was in love with her.
His brain and his desires completely detached, he walked straight up to Hermione, tilting her head up to meet his, lips gentle against hers. She seemed taken aback, but quickly dropped her bags and wrapped her arms around his neck, deepening the kiss. They broke apart, smiling, no words needed to explain what had just happened. It was clear to Hermione what Harry was trying to say.
Thank you.
Harry quickly produced a patronus, sending it off with a message: "Ron. We're coming home. Prepare the family. We'll be there in twenty minutes, if you'll have us."
In less than two minutes Ron's terrier flew through the window following Harry's stag. Ron's amused voice came from the dog's mouth. "Don't be a stupid prat, Harry. Of course we'll have you. You're family, aren't you? We took Percy back, didn't we? I'll go warm up the family for your grand entrance. And Violet here is very excited to meet you."
The animals faded away, and Harry took Hermione's hand. She was so excited that she could only ask, "Does this mean he proposed then?"
Twenty minutes passed and Harry and Hermione apparated to the hill overlooking the Burrow. The leaves were changing beautifully and the walk home was a pleasant one. They strolled along, hand-in-hand, silently, both too nervous and happy to speak. Harry tentatively knocked on the door, unsure of what would meet him.
Ron's face was visible for a second until Hermione attacked him, burying the poor boy in a hug. "Herm-I-nee-can't-breath-" He choked out, laughing.
Mrs. Weasley, who had been standing right behind her son, screamed and pulled Harry inside, starting a commotion. Harry heard his name called a million times, and was smothered by a million different arms hugging him. He even felt his face get slapped, by Ginny of course, but she hugged him soon after. It wasn't for a while that Harry got to meet Violet, Ron's new muggle fiancé who lived in the muggle village down the road. She was short and made of smiles, and absolutely perfect for Ron. She would make an excellent addition to their group of friends.
After the party that Ron and Violet had planned settled down, and everyone else went to bed, Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Violet sat around, telling stories of their adventures. Violet soon drifted off in Ron's arms, who quickly followed. Harry shifted on the couch so he was lying down, with Hermione snuggled close to his chest.
He had tracked across globes and maps with this girl-- this utterly perfect, wonderful girl-- and now, here he was, at home with her and those who loved them.
She would never realize it, but she had saved his life more times that he could count, more times than she knew. He knew he would never have been happy without her.
And here, with Hermione curled up in his arms, he knew he was home.
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Your way back home…
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