Well, this is my first Harry Potter fanfiction. I was listening to Arctic Monkeys' Cornerstone and this came to be.
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, JKR does.
He was roaming around muggle London, as usual. Thinking about her. He went to a pub, one different from last week. Maybe this time she would be there. The bar was nearly empty, only two tables occupied. He sat next to the window, just waiting for something. Someone.
A girl was glancing at the stranger at the bar. He was certainly handsome, with his pale blond hair and gray eyes; but also mysterious. She could feel his emptiness just by looking at him. Maybe she could do something to help.
A couple of hellos and some unimportant questions later, she asked him to accompany her to her flat. "To get to know each other more" was all she offered as an explanation for her sudden proposition.
So there he was, sitting on the edge of her bed, contemplating the woman in front of him, when a sudden question escaped his lips.
— Can I call you her name?
Another Friday, another night wasted in some muggle bar. London certainly had enough bars to prevent him to meet her again.
He got caught in his drink and almost forgot the reason why he was there on the first place. Until he saw somebody. He couldn't help but notice her. Wavy hair, brown eyes. A beautiful laugh that resonated in his mind and made him remember their good times. He stood up and approached her before his brain could stop him. He just meant to get a closer look, to see if she was her. Instead, he grabbed her waist and kissed her.
And to his surprise, she kissed him back. Alcohol made everything feel better. Until they broke apart. She wasn't the one he was looking for. However, she felt really good. So all he could do was ask:
— Can I call you her name?
It was time to go home. The Manor, the place that had been once a happy place to return at night after work. She would wait for him and they would talk about anything. It was again a place of solitude, where he could hear her screams, those screams that haunted him long ago. She was so forgiving, and consoled him when he woke up in the middle of the night with those nightmares. He was sure she also had them, but she was so brave and caring to make him worry about that too. Not that he would've minded. She was his everything and more.
Life was the closest you can be to perfect, before it all went to hell.
Now all he could do was smell his Quidditch uniform, that still had her scent. Was their time together even real or just a product of his imagination? Loneliness was known to wreak havoc in people's minds. And he had been on his own for a long time now. His family couldn't care less and his friends were gone, tired of him pushing them away.
He needed to move on, she would've liked that. Always caring about others before herself.
But maybe not today.
What are the odds? He was again in a pub when he saw her once more. A closer look made him realize it wasn't her. But she looked so alike. She had that gleam in her eyes just like she used to when something was really important. He couldn't lose anything, so he took his chance and walked right up to her.
This time, they ended up in some cheap motel nearby. Some other time, he wouldn't have dared to step foot in such place, but he just didn't care anymore.
They were already naked when the dreaded question appeared.
— Can I call you her name?
— Okay.
— Hermione...