Part 1
The sun was just rising when Harry Potter entered the kitchen of his home in Ottery St Catchpole. He tiredly shuffled his way to the table and sat, staring into space. He knew that today was going to be horrendous. It was the 27th of January, after all. The 27th of January was always the worst day of the year for Harry Potter. It was the day that he lost Her. There wasn't a day that went by that he didn't think about her and miss her with every fibre of his being, but the 27th was a day of absolute misery.
Even after all these years, 20 he realized numbly, he hadn't stopped mourning her—his first love, his only love, his Hermione. Sure he'd married and had children but he'd never been the same after Hermione's death. When Hermione died, a not-so-little part of himself had died too. The part that enjoyed life. He used to see everything in vibrant colour, especially her with her contagious passion and zest for life. Now he saw everything in black and white. Passion and Zest were things he thought of wistfully, knowing he would never feel them again. He couldn't without her.
So on the 27th of January every year, Harry would disappear for the entire day. No one except for Harry himself knew where he went. In the beginning, this caused untold problems with his wife as Harry absolutely flat out refused to tell her where he went. A few times she tried to follow him but he's not called the Boy-Who-lived for nothing. Eventually she gave up and her feelings towards the situation turned indifferent. In fact her feelings towards Harry in general turned indifferent. Harry couldn't bring himself to care much either.
There was a soft pop that pulled the desolate man out of his musing. Harry looked up to see Kreacher looking at him softly, with pity. Kreacher knew what today was. His beloved master lost his true mistress 20 years ago today.
"Can Kreacher get Master Harry anything? Tea? Breakfast? Kreacher can make the blueberry pancakes that master loves so much? Kreacher has the syrup—oh!" Kreacher stopped mid-sentence his eyes going wide, a little fearful, not sure if he should tell his master what he just felt. The decision was taken out of his hands when Harry sensed his house elf's distress.
"What is it Kreacher? Is something wrong?" Kreacher was now wringing his hands. He didn't want his master to have anything more to upset him today.
"Please Kreacher tell me what is bothering you"
"Master, I felt the wards shift at the house of my old master's. Someone is there right now."
Harry swore and was out of his seat before Kreacher could blink, heading towards the fireplace. After Hermione was killed inside Grimmauld Place, Harry couldn't bear living there anymore but by the same token he couldn't bear to sell it either. Grimmauld Place was where they had had their first kiss, where they had first said I love you, where he had proposed…no he couldn't sell it. So he boarded it up and abandoned it. 20 years, he couldn't even imagine what shape it was in. Why on earth would anyone actually want to break in? He sighed, grabbed a pinch of floo powder and flooed over to the last place on earth he wanted to be right now.
He appeared in the hearth of Grimmauld place, immediately pulling out his wand. He decided not to light it though, even though the place was a bit dark, as he didn't want to give himself away. Carefully and quietly he walked around the whole bottom floor of the London townhouse. Finding nothing he headed towards the stairs. He was a couple of feet away from the bottom step when he tripped over something solid. Cursing again he caught himself on the banister. He lit his wand and gasped, his wand slipping from his fingers as he sunk to the ground, his legs unable to hold him any longer. Because there on the ground in front of the stairs, was and unconscious Hermione Granger.
xxxx
Harry didn't know how long he sat starring at the vision in front of him waiting for it to disappear. She was beaten and bloody but it was definitely her. He reached out a shaky hand and brushed her hair out of her face. He yanked his hand back.
"Polyjuice. It has to be! She looks exactly the same as the last time I saw her! What a fucking cruel trick to play! Today of all days! Wake up! WAKE UP! RENNERVATE!' The figure on the ground groaned. Harry was beyond angry now. Standing up to his full height with his wand pointed at the intruder he spat, 'WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU?! HOW DARE YOU TAKE HER FACE!"
"Harry?" The Hermione imposter whispered hoarsely, staring blearily at Harry.
"WHO ARE YOU?" He yelled again.
"It's me, Harry. It's Hermione."
"YOU ARE NOT HERMIONE! Hermione is dead! If you won't tell me who you are we will just sit here until the Polyjuice wears off. Your choice."
"Harry, it really is me. I don't know why you think I'm dead but you can't Polyjuice into a dead person. It says so in Moste potent potions" And with that she passed out again.
"No! No passing out! Rennervate! Rennervate! Damn!" He sank back to the ground and put his head between his knee's breathing deeply. This couldn't be Hermione. No matter how hard he wanted to believe it was, it was impossible. Not just because she was supposed to be dead, her body was actually never found, but it was more to the fact that the Hermione in front him hadn't aged at all. Surely If this was really Hermione she would look older? Twenty years had passed after all. He took a deep fortifying breath and looked up at the woman in front of him. Tears sprung to his eyes, he'd almost forgotten how absolutely breathtaking she was. He lit his wand again; he wanted a proper look at her face. He wanted to be sure…wanted more than anything for her to look older under the light, because that could mean that she was real. That it really could be her.
What he saw made him gasp. He had been so shocked that Hermione was lying on the floor of Grimmauld Place that he hadn't taken more than a cursory glance at her injuries. She had a huge gash on the side of her head that was leaking blood steadily. She also had a big bruise on her left cheek. He shone the light further down her body. He saw that her clothes were bloody and torn in places and her left arm looked broken. If she had further injuries he couldn't tell through her clothes, but she looked broken. Making a split-second decision he levitated the unconscious woman ahead of him. He levitated her into the library and laid her gently on the dusty couch. He lit the lights with a gentle flick of his hand and just stared at the woman for a while, letting the tears fall. God he missed her so much! If this was some sort of joke then it was an awful, cruel joke and he would never forgive the person behind it. He watched her for a full hour and when there was no change to the girl he grew impatient. He needed to get to the bottom of this.
"Accio Moste Potent Potions." The book came sailing from across the room and landed in his outstretched hand. He turned to the table of contents and found the correct page. He took a deep breath and started reading.
Polyjuice potion is a potion that allows the drinker to assume the form of someone else. It is a complicated and difficult potion that even the most talented of witches and wizards struggle to brew correctly as it requires great skill and patience. After brewing, the potion must stew for an entire month before it can be used and any error in the brewing process, however minor, will leave you with a completely useless cauldron of goop.
"Yes, Yes I know this." He muttered. He skimmed the page until he found what he was looking for.
It is also worth noting that one cannot impersonate a dead witch or wizard using polyjuice potion. In 1856 a man named Elwood Thompson attempted to impersonate his dead brother to seduce his brother's widow. When Mr Thompson took the Polyjuice potion containing his late brothers hair it acted like a fast moving poison. He was dead within a matter of minutes.
It continued on for another half a page but Harry had read enough. He looked back to the woman on the couch. Could it really be Hermione? He pointed his wand at her.
"Finite Incantatem." he whispered.
Nothing happened.
His heart leapt for joy and he raced over to Hermione. Hermione! He felt tears running down his face again but he didn't bother wiping them away. He reached out and cupped her cheek in his hand. It was then he realized just how cold her cheek was and how shallow her breathing. He cursed, he couldn't take her to St Mungo's, there would be too many questions.
"Kreacher!" he called desperately. A second later the wizened old elf appeared in front of him.
"Yes master?" he replied dutifully. The elf's eyes flitted over to the unconscious woman. "Master, is that…"
"Yes, Kreacher, I think it is! But she is injured. I need you to go and get Luna Lovegood and bring her here. Tell her it's an emergency and I need her here right away. Don't take no for an answer, Kreacher, ok?"
With a quick "Yes master" he was gone with an enthusiastic pop.
Less than five minutes later, Kreacher was back with a serene looking Healer Lovegood.
"Hello Harry! I thought you'd be in the Forest of Dean by now. Isn't that where you go every year on the anniversary of Herm—Hermione," Luna breathed, catching site of the woman of the couch. "How Harry? That's Hermione! I'd know her aura anywhere!"
"I don't know how, Luna. I think the only way we're going to get answers is from Hermione herself. But she's injured. And she's so cold. Please, please! I can't lose her again! Heal her!"
"Of course I will Harry. Scourgify. I'll need to remove these clothes. Evanesco." She spent the next 10 minutes healing Hermione's head wound before moving onto her broken bones. Seems she had 2 broken ribs, a broken arm and a fractured leg. The ribs had come pretty close to puncturing her lung but all-in-all the most serious injury was her head wound. Luna said that she had a concussion but a potion was needed to fix that, so they would have to wait until she woke. Harry conjured pyjamas and a blanket for her and they settled in to wait.
"How are Ginny and the kids, Harry?" Luna asked after a few minutes of silence.
"They're all good. Al was made prefect this year. James is Gryfindor Quidditch captain and Lily made the Slytherin Quiddich team this year. Ginny is…well Ginny. We don't really see much of each other anymore. We live in the same house but live very separate lives. I think if it were possible we would be divorced by now. How are Rolf and the boys?"
"Rolf has been suffering from a chronic Wrackspurt infection. For some reason positive thoughts aren't working to dispell them. His head is constantly fuzzy. Worst is that it seems to be spreading to the boys. My father has been working on a new potion to help them."
"Er that's awful, Luna. I—"
"Harry?" The woman on the couch whispered. Harry rushed over and grabbed her hand.
"Yes sweetheart, it's me."
"Harry, where's Ron? He was just here."
"Ron? Ron's not here sweetheart."
"No he was just here Harry. I told him that you and I were getting married. Please don't get angry. I know you wanted for us to tell him together, but I thought if I told him alone it would stop him from throwing a violent tantrum. I didn't want you boys fighting. I didn't think he'd hurt me like he would you, if you told him. But he got so angry Harry. He wouldn't listen to me when I told him that I loved you. That it had always been you. He wouldn't stop yelling. So I walked away. But he hit me in the back with something as I was walking down the stairs. Harry…my head hurts."
Luna handed him two potions. Harry nodded his thanks.
"Here sweetheart, these potions will help. Open up." Once she had swallowed both potions what Hermione had just said sunk into Harry's brain.
"Wait, Ron did this?!"
Hermione's eyes flew open.
"Yes, he- Harry!" she sat up, her eyes now focused on his face, "You—what? Harry you look different. Older. How— What's going on?"
"That's what we are trying to figure out." Luna said in her patented dreamy voice. Hermione attention shot to her.
"Luna? You look older too. What the bloody hell is going on? If this is some prank it's not very funny Harry James Potter!" It was completely inappropriate considering the circumstances, but Harry couldn't wipe the silly smile off his face. God how he had missed that indignant tone of hers! Hermione glared at him fiercely.
"Hermione no one is playing a prank on you." Harry said in a soothing tone, running his thumb over the back of her hand to placate her.
"Luna and I look older because we are older. Sweetheart, you have been gone for 20 years."
"Gone? What do you mean gone?"
"We all thought you were dead. That is what Ron told us. He said that he was coming to meet you and that he arrived at Grimmauld Place just in time to see a Death Eater fire the Killing Curse at you and disappear with your bloody body. There was a pool of your blood on the floor and—" Harry fought back tears. She's here, he told himself. She's alive!
"But you said just said that you did see Ron! That Fucking backstabbing piece of shit. He lied. He's lied to me for 20 years! I'm going to fucking kill him!" He tried to stand up, ready to storm over to the Burrow (Where Ron still lived with his parents) and beat the shit out of him. But Hermione tightened her grip on his hand.
"20 years?" she whispered in disbelief. "How—Oh motherfucker!" Harry jumped, it wasn't often she used that type of language.
"What sweetheart? What is it?"
"I think I know what happened. My latest project for work… well I guess I can tell you. I probably don't have a job there anymore anyway," She mumbled looking thoughtful. Hermione had worked for the Department of Mysteries. She was the youngest person in history to become an Unspeakable.
"I was working on something for the Auror department actually. It was supposed to help with arrests. It was a potion spray. Once it touched human skin it would transport that person to a small dimensional pocket. A waiting room of sorts. No, more like a holding cell, I guess. The idea was that you would spray the perp and they would be transported and held in this dimensional pocket and then when the Aurors are ready, it's a simple spell to release them. It was a work-in-progress and it had its kinks but I was positive that if I just put more time into it then I could get it working properly. So I broke the rules and brought it home. Harry, I had a bottle of it in my pocket!"
"So when Ron hit you with that spell and you fell down the stairs, the bottle broke in your pocket?"
"Exactly!"
"Then why don't you remember anything about this other place?"
"Because I was unconscious, Harry."
"The whole time?!"
"Time doesn't exist in the dimensional pocket, Harry. It's like a stasis charm, whatever state you're in going in is how you will stay until you are out."
"Well then why did the spell release you now?" Luna asked. Both Harry and Hermione had forgotten Luna was there, they were so caught up in each other. Hermione was silent for a few moments, deep in thought.
"I'm not really sure, Luna. The potion was supposed to keep the person in the dimensional pocket for no more than two days, but as I said I didn't have it completely worked out yet. Maybe I reached the time limit and the dimensional pocket just spat me out. But that is just a theory we may never know for sure."
"So you're really here? This isn't a grief-fuelled hallucination? You're really here?" Harry asked huskily, swallowing the lump in his throat.
"I'm really here Harry." Hermione whispered, reassuringly. Luna smiled dreamily and nodded to herself slipping out of the room to give the couple some privacy, knowing that they had a hard road ahead of them but she was sure that they would get through it. They had to. Neither Harry or Hermione noticed as Luna softly shut the library door closed behind her.
Harry brought both his hands to Hermione's face, cupping her cheeks. Slowly he brought his lips to hers, sobbing against her lips when he felt how solid they were. As he drew back, Hermione turned her head and kissed the palm of his hand. Harry felt her stiffen before she grabbed his left hand.
"You're married." She stated.
"Yes." He whispered knowing there was no use in lying.
"Oh." Hermione breathed, staring at the ground.
"Hermione I—you—it's—," Harry stammered, trying desperately to find the right thing to say.
"Harry, I understand," Hermione whispered brokenly, her eyes still planted firmly on the dusty floor of the library. "It's been 20 years for you. It's completely irrational to expect you to still be mine." She said more firmly, looking up but avoiding Harry's eyes. She didn't want him to see her heartbreak but Harry saw it anyway, he knew her too well. He could always read her. He felt sick. He wanted to scream that he was still hers! His heart still belonged to her, still beat only for her even though he had given his name to another.
"I still love you." He rasped hoarsely.
"Harry…"
"No Hermione, I never stopped loving you. I will always love you!"
Hermione leapt to her feet and started pacing.
"Harry that isn't fair! You are married! You have a home and no doubt children with someone else. I don't begrudge you any of that, it's been a very long time for you…"
"Hermione!" He cut her off. "Do you still love me?"
"Harry, don't do this."
"Do you love me?!" He demanded, grasping her upper arms firmly but gently, forcing her to stop her pacing.
"YES! Of course I do! It was just a few hours ago for me that we were planning a future together. But none of that matters anymore. You are married! You know there is no divorce in the magical world. I love you but I won't be your mistress, Harry. I deserve to have someone who can give me all of himself. A man that can give me marriage and children. Not a life of stolen moments and secrecy. It breaks my heart, Harry, because I love you desperately, but we can't be together! We can't!"
"No! I just got you back Hermione. I'm not letting you go again!" He claimed her lips in a passionate, possessive kiss and wrapped his arms firmly around her waist and pulled her body flush against his. She tried feebly to push him away for a few seconds before giving in and kissing him back. Harry backed her up into a bookshelf, not once letting up the pressure on her lips. When breathing became an issue, he let his lips travel down her neck, nipping and sucking. Hermione let out a breathy whimper. He smirked triumphantly, if there was one thing he was an expert on, it was Hermione's body. His hands started to wander, starting at her thighs. He brought one shapely thigh up and wrapped it around his hips and palmed he arse, eliciting another moan from her.
"We were always so great together Hermione. God, how I have missed you! Not a day went by where I didn't miss you. Think of you. Mourn you." His voice seemed to jar her out of the trance she had been in and she pushed him away sharply.
"Harry no!"
"Hermione…"
"No Harry! This can't happen again. You know it can't. Not only is it not fair to me it's not fair to your wife either. Please don't make this harder than what it already is." She said tearfully.
"Please Hermione…" he reached out to her but she stepped out of his reach.
"I don't have my wand. Can you please transfigure these pyjama's into jeans and a jumper. I would like to go to the ministry now."
"Hermione..." Harry tried one more time. When she avoided his gaze he sighed and pulled out his wand to do what she said.
xxxx
