I don't own HP

Xx

Harry sighed as he reclined in his cab. He was on night shift again and it had been a long night ferrying people around London and snow was falling lightly covering the city. He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out his pack of fags and his lighter and lit one up. Taking a deep drag he leaned his head back against the headrest of the seat and relaxed. The digital display in console read four fifteen in faint green letters. Another hour and he could head back to the garage for shift change and go home for the day.

It had been over ten years since he was forced from the wizarding world and he honestly couldn't say that he missed it much. Not to say that the years had been kind to him. No, they hadn't been all bad either. Sure he could count the two years he spent at the Dursleys' as close to actual hell with the only bright side being his cousin Dudley, of all people.

Dudley… was an oddity. For most of his early life his cousin was a spoiled bully whose favorite past time was "Harry hunting." Somehow being away from Harry for most of the year and saving him from dementors had turned Dudley from Harry's biggest bully to Harry's biggest defender. They even shared a flat together after Harry was thrown out of the Dursleys' by his Aunt Petunia when he turned seventeen. Harry hated to say it but Dudley was probably his best mate. He was still sharing a flat with Dudley but ever since Dudley's fiancee Marry moved in with them Harry had been flat hunting. He even bought them two tickets to that big American music festival and a month at a resort in California for them as a wedding gift - one of the few times Harry had flaunted his wealth in the last few years.

Harry actually didn't need to live with his cousin. He didn't even need to work, honestly he just did it to give himself something to do. He was, after all, enormously wealthy just from what his parents left him. Dudley had insisted though. Arguing that Harry would just sulk and spend all of his time 'acting like an angsty burk' if he wasn't there to 'kick em' in arse when he needed it.' He was actually grateful to Dudley for that. He had to admit, after they snapped his wand Harry had been thrown into a massive state of depression. Seeing his holly and phoenix feather wand broken before him was like having a chunk of his own flesh cut out with a butter knife. Dumbledore just stood there doing nothing. Then… he had left, sent back to the Dursleys' without so much as a 'by your leave.' Funnily enough being expelled from Hogwarts and having his wand snapped didn't actually mean he was banned from the magical world. He still had to go into Diagon Alley occasionally to sort out business with Gringotts or buy some broom polish, though he almost never went in without being completely hidden by his invisibility cloak. Wouldn't do to be seen when a madman had apparently been out for his blood.

It was funny. At first he had been scared that old Voldy would come through like a hurricane and sweep him away at some point. Voldemort never did. He had seen… felt rather, through his scar that Voldemort was content to leave him alone. Harry no longer having a wand and not learning magic meant that old Voldy no longer considered him a threat. Funny how that worked out. Last he had heard, Voldemort had left the British Isles. He was off terrorizing Wizarding China, for some reason.

Harry was brought out of his thoughts as his cab's radio crackled to life. "Harry? You awake?" Anne's distinctive Scottish brogue cut through the static. Anne was one of the dispatchers who usually worked night shifts and whose voice kept him company during the long nights.

He leaned forward and pressed the button on the mic to reply. "Barely, but I'm hanging in there for now."

"Good to hear," Anne said. "Up for a last minute fare?" she asked.

"Sure." Harry cracked his neck trying to relieve some tension. "Where at?"

"The Natural History Museum " Anne said.

Perfect. If he drove just right he should be back at the garage by five fifteen and be homeward bound by five forty-five. "Got it." He sat up in his seat, put the cab in drive and slowly pulled out into the illuminated streets of London flicking his fag out the window as he did.

"All right, feel free to head back after you're done, yeah?" Anne told him.

I didn't take much time for Harry to pull up out in front of the museum. The woman who called for him was waiting outside the fence looking around nervously. Harry thought she looked kinda familiar with the way her satchel bulged and weighed her down. Harry grimaced at the thought. He hadn't seen anyone from Hogwarts in years and he doubted he'd run into any of them at four AM on the A4. The woman waved him down and he pulled up right in front of her. She settled into the back seat with her bag tucked safely into her side and began rummaging through it.

"Where to, Miss?" Harry asked in what he called his 'cabby voice.' It was a good mix of polite, tired and just a dash of condescending

The woman paused in her pursuit of whatever was in her bag for the briefest of moments before shaking her head and resuming her search. "Islington," she said and gave him the address of her flat. Harry faltered as he reached for the shift. Her voice had caught him off guard. She sounded so… familiar. He shook his head. There's no way he'd run into her out here. Especially not on the A4. Harry put the cab in gear and pulled out onto the road for the relatively short drive to the woman's flat.

Harry's gaze flicked back at the woman in the backseat. He caught her glancing up at him through the rearview mirror. She would look up, frown, bite her lip, shake her head and look away In a very familiar way. Almost like… never mind. Harry sighed, it had been a long time since he had thought about his old school mates. After he had been ostracized from the wizarding world he hadn't had so much as a postcard from them. So much for house loyalty, ay?

Soon enough they pulled up to the front of the woman's building, which turned out to be a towering homage to Britain's love of being packed together like rats on one big sinking ship. The only difference being these rats aren't smart enough to jump. I told her the price on the meter and she slipped a hand full of fivers through the little window in the back of the cab. "You're going to have to wait a moment while i get your change," Harry told the woman. She slipped out of the cab and walked to the driver's side window. Harry handed her the change, all the while doing his best to avoid looking at her face. He was about to put the car in gear he heard her speak. "Harry?" the woman's voice was almost a hoarse whisper.

shit.

Harry finally glanced up into the woman's face to confirm his fears. There, staring back at him, was the face of his best friend for many years. Harry was surprised how much her features had softened and changed since he had last seen her but was still very much the same Hermione he knew right down to her soft brown eyes. "Hey," he said lamely. "How've you been, 'Mione?" the next thing he knew he was struck by a bushy-haired rocket as she launched herself through the window and wrapped her arms around him in a tight hug. Harry awkwardly patted her shoulder.

She pulled back and held him at arm's length through the window. It was only then that he noticed the tears in her eyes. Tears, he noted, that were quickly replaced with confusion then anger as her hair seemed to bristle around her. "Harry James Potter!" then she began to stutter furiously. "You unbelievable ass!"

That threw him for a bit of a loop.

"Ten years. Ten years and you haven't returned a single one of my letters!." her voice held back something. He knew it was there but couldn't tell quite what it was.

Harry was more than a little confused. "Letters? What letters? I haven't gotten a letter from the wizarding world in years, Hermione." It was the truth though technically he still received the odd letter from Gringotts.

Hermione's brows knitted in confusion. Before she shook her head as if to clear her thoughts. "Harry, what are you doing?"

Harry cocked an eyebrow. "Working," came his rather blunt reply, gesturing to the interior of the cab.

Hermione gave him an incredulous expression. If he was anyone else he might have thought she was having an aneurysm. Maybe she was. "No that's not…" Hermione began before stopping herself and taking a deep breath and looking him in the eyes. "Just… come upstairs for some tea." She looked almost as tired as he felt in that moment.

"I can't," came Harry's short reply. "Not allowed to leave the cab alone," he explained. Hermione looked like she was about to interject so he quickly added. "Also i've been on shift for over twelve hours. I'm sorry, Hermione but I'm bloody well knackered."

Hermione's lips soured. "Oh no," she started. "You're not getting out of this that easily. Do you have a phone?" Harry nodded and she held out her hand. "Give it here."

Harry had a dilemma. He could give Hermione his phone and thus have contact with the world which scorned him again, or drive away like a coward and pretend this never happened. Though if he was being honest he didn't really have a choice. Hermione, if she was anything like how he remembered her, would stop at nothing to track him down and considering she now had the name of the company he worked for there would be no stopping her.

With that bit of mental gymnastics out of the way, he calmly handed over his phone and waited as Hermione put her contact info into it and his into hers. If he were honest with himself none of this was sitting right with him. The whole affair was beginning to make him a bit queasy.

A few minutes later he was driving away phone in hand and mind racing down every rabbit hole and scenario it could muster in its limited capacity. Maybe… maybe that's why he didn't see the lorry until it slammed into the front of his cab. He wouldn't remember until much later. But the one thing he'll always remember were those damn fluorescent headlights.