Author's Note: So I'm just gonna say it... what everyone's thinking... FINALLY!

Now I know I have not posted in a really really long time. I've actually had pretty much the majority of this chapter written for a while. I'm sure I could give a thousand excuses for not posting in over a month, but to be quite honest I simply needed a break. From about August to September I wrote a smidge over 15 chapters for this story. I feel like that is a crazy amount. That's like averaging about two or three chapters a week... crazy! So yeah I just needed a break. I could say I had to work or that I needed to focus on school or my family... but normally I just ignore all three of those and write anyway :)

So truthfully, I needed a break. But now that break is over and I am ready to kick it into gear again. I have to say that this chapter may not be a good "just got back from a long break and my readers need some juiciness" chapter. BUT it sets up the next chapter where there will be TONS of juiciness. So please keep that in mind. Anyway thank you all for reading my story and sticking with me (Specifically Derr for continually getting on my A double snakes!)

~Meg

Chapter Twenty One- The Missing Part

The sun was setting as the pair sat outside on the terrace. The balcony had a quaint arrangement with a table and wicker sitting chairs that the two had grown accustomed to lounging in as time crawled forward.

Hermione had no idea just how slowly time could move until her stay at the safe house. In the back of her mind, she wondered how Salvatore had not somehow gone crazy. Then again, Salvatore had the luxury of not having to worry about whether a loved one was alive or dead. He only had to think of himself. Still, time inched forward at an aching pace. It was enough to make the most worry free soul turn over with anxiousness, Salvatore included.

Each day was a count down. Another day passed, another day closer.

Arthur's voice cut through her musings. "Hermione, may I ask you something?"

She turned her head slightly to him and nodded.

"It's just… I've been thinking… and… I keep wondering how you knew about safe houses. They're very rare. Most Ministry officials have never even heard of them."

"Cesare had one," she answered quietly.

The older wizard's mouth formed a perfect O as the information settled. Arthur debated whether he should push forward and inquire more. The subject was obviously sensitive as, he knew, the late Italian Minister had been very close to her, but then again he couldn't help it. He had never been the kind of soul to not ask a question once a particular inquiry lodged itself within his brain. It was the main reason why the muggle appliances that his wife despised so much continued to show up sporadically in their home at the Burrow even despite the fact that he no longer worked in the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office.

"Why didn't he ever use it?" Arthur finally asked. Hermione looked down at her hands folded in her lap. That brief moment of hesitation in answering was enough to make Arthur feel like he had overstepped his bounds. "I mean… he must've known he was in great danger. I would've thought he'd have gone into hiding especially after the trial."

"Cesare was never one to hide," muttered Hermione. Her eyes finally lifted from her intertwined hands to look out at the setting sun. With a great sigh, she continued, "He never thought of himself… only the cause. He was all about his principles. And, he didn't want to use the safe house for himself. I suppose he thought it too selfish of an act."

"It appears that is where he and I differ," said Arthur, readjusting himself in his seat. Hermione raised a brow in question. The older wizard shrugged slightly as he explained, "I didn't give a thought to using the house when the attack happened."

"But you were protecting me."

A smile tugged at his mouth. "Yes. But for selfish reasoning still. I took you here because I couldn't bear it if you had gotten hurt too. Your presence here is for my sake."

The two grew silent again.

Hermione knew that the Weasleys had always treated her as if she were a part of the family, her and Harry both. But now, after everything, it felt true and more real than it had ever felt. She understood that that was what Arthur was telling her with his admission. He could not stand to lose another child and after seeing Harry hit, possibly fatally, the Weasley patriarch had done his parental duty by protecting his kin and grabbing Hermione, a girl that he no longer "considered" to be a daughter but instead actually had become one. He fully admitted that he had no qualms about using the safe house for personal reason because it allowed him to remove her from the peril that the Quidditch arena had been sheathed in.

And although a part of Hermione was deeply grateful for his regard for her safety and for his natural familial instinct towards her, another part of her had recently grown to resent it. Despite Arthur's kind reassurances, she could not help the fear still firmly pitted in her stomach and the large lump that bubbled at the back of her throat as she thought about Harry. She had never left him. Never. Not even during the deadliest of battles or the most intense of skirmishes. She always stood by him, unyielding. It made no matter if he was angry with her or she upset with him. When it came down to it, she would never allow him to be alone. It was against every fiber in her being. But in this case she had been forced, pulled away against her will. Now, he was alone, healing in some bed somewhere… hopefully. She had never been away from him when he was injured or bleeding. She had never let him awake without her comforting presence there to greet him, standing dutifully by his bedside. And now, as she sat there in her wicker chair she couldn't help the worry, the anger, but most of all the aching resentment.

He was where she was supposed to be.

They were all they had left. Of course they would always have the Weasleys. Molly would ensure that. But, with Ron and Ginny's absence, it was just them. Hermione and Harry. He had been her rock through the entirety of her break up with Ron and she liked to think that she had done the same for him. But now he was alone. And so was she.

Her body felt like it was missing an entire section. Not just a "right arm". But an entire section. It was as if she couldn't function. Like she was missing more than what her body could afford in order for it to properly sustain itself, to continue to do its day to day processes. Breathing was a constant issue along with sleeping and eating, her appetite had seemingly forgotten to apparate with them, and her tear ducts seemed to be permanently out of reach with her brain. There were no connections. There was no control.

Her body, her mind was merely a mesh of constant worry.

"I've never seen you this way before," said Arthur.

Hermione looked up to find the redhead watching her intently, studying her features carefully albeit humbly in his usual calm, timid way.

"For as long as I can remember you've worried yourself sick over Harry, but this time feels different. Something's changed… I can see," he stated, looking her dead in the eye.

For some reason, she had to look away. She trusted Arthur implicitly, and yet she feared revealing too much. The inner workings of her brain had always been carefully locked away within her, unreachable to so many. Her emotions had always been hers and hers only. She only gave away what she must or what she could no longer contain. As of late, her mind had been so riddled with thoughts that it was hardly surprising that she could not keep up her usual guard in her vulnerable state. Arthur had the rare opportunity to see Hermione truly and so, he seized it taking a far closer inspection of her.

"I'm here to listen if you wish to tell me, but I understand if you don't." Arthur's gaze was soft. He had never been particularly overbearing or forceful with touchy subjects. He had long preferred to avoid them if they could be, but, as in the case at hand, he knew Hermione to be overcome with thoughts and so he offered.

Maybe it was the fact that they'd been holed up in the safe house for a week and half or maybe it was because her insides felt twisted and torn every single time she thought of Harry or maybe it was that she could no longer stand the resentment she felt not only for Arthur but also for herself, for the things she had done and for things she had neglected to do the weeks before the match. So she could not help when the words, almost of their own accord, slipped from her lips barely above a whisper.

"I kissed him."

Arthur was taken aback for a second. Her voice had been so soft and small that had Arthur not been looking directly at her he was sure he would've missed it entirely. The sound would've melted into the short gusts of wind, a new addition to the breeze, but he just so happened to catch it. That he had didn't really change much. He had absolutely no inclination as how to react and so remained with an astonished expression. His mouth opened and closed numerous times before he finally settled upon one question.

"When?"

Hermione took a moment before answering, "After we got back from Paris."

"That was a long time ago," he stated eyeing the young witch's every facial twitch.

"Yes… yes it was." There was a long, awkward pause between the two. Hermione attempted to swallow the lump in the back of her throat as her memory reviewed the events of that particular week. She felt like there was a weight on her chest, but she was afraid to speak it. She feared the reality and the realizations that would come with the words, so she remained quiet even though she felt like she was suffocating.

Arthur looked at her with concern as he observed the emotions passing over her. "What happened after?"

Hermione's eyes closed. She took a deep breath. She didn't want to say anything, but another part of her was eager for Arthur's easy listening ear. "I stopped it before it began. I told him we couldn't be together."

"Do you regret telling him that?" Every perceptive sense of his was completely focused on Hermione. He watched as her brow furrowed and her expression contorted to one of emotional pain.

Her head dipped down, unable to look at him for fear of what he might think. She nodded before affirming in an emotion laden voice, "Yes."

Suddenly, realization dawned on Arthur. As he took in Hermione's demeanor before him he thought to himself: no wonder she had been so upset. No wonder she had been acting differently. It was because there was more between them. Initially after the article in the Prophet, he had supposed briefly that there might be more, especially after Harry's particular visit to his office the day of the post. But he had eventually laid the thought to rest as the two continued to act normal and live together peacefully, without any outward clues of tension. Now, as he recalled things, he felt like a fool for having overlooked it.

"What were you so afraid of?" inquired Arthur, his head lolling to the side as he gazed at her.

"I didn't want to fall only to break again," she whispered. She inhaled shakily as she tried to control her haywire emotions.

Quietly, Arthur stood and made his way over to her chair. He knelt down before her taking hold of her hands that lay resting in her lap. Slowly, her watery, chocolate depths rose to meet his kind and clear blue eyes. "Hermione, my dear, it appears as though you've already fallen."

"Kingsley, you said they would be here by now," stated Molly as she paced the kitchen of number 12 Grimmauld Place. Her husband had been missing for two weeks now and the Head of the Auror Department did not appear to think anything of it.

"Be patient, Molly," replied the calm, collected Kingsley as he sat at the table.

"Patient? I've waited a fortnight without having any inkling as to where my husband is! You promised, Kingsley. You said you set the safe house, you said they'd be there!"

"Mum, just because the time is up does not mean the house will release them. And even if it does, they'll probably check the Burrow before Dad thinks of coming here," piped Bill.

"Bill's right, Molly. Still, there is no need to worry. I have Aurors standing by at various locations to escort them here if they turn up. They'll be here eventually, I promise." Just as he finished his sentence, the swinging door was pushed open. The party all turned eagerly in unison towards the entrance.

"Oh Harry, it's just you, dear."

The recently recovered boy-who-had-a-knack-for-living stood just inside of the doorframe. His left arm rested gently in a black sling that, alone, was the only outward sign of the horrendous injuries that he had overcome. He appeared to be as good as new standing there in his usual trainers, jumper, and worn jeans.

"Yeah it's just me," he said with a small smirk and a shrug. Kingsley chuckled softly from across the table.

"Well come now. Have a seat. Let us fix you something to eat." As per usual Molly immediately went about preparing a meal for Harry. Ever since he had awoken a week ago she had been constantly doting on him.

Harry slid into a chair right next to Bill who gave him a soft brotherly nudge. "All right, Harry?"

"All right, Bill?" returned Harry. He took a minute to eye the quite obviously tension filled group. Molly was bustling about in such a way that Harry knew she must be worried about something. Fixing him supper, although a task she was always very keen to do, now appeared to be more of a desperate distraction while Bill and Kingsley both seemed outwardly calm, but just as worried inwardly. Kingsley had yet to turn a page in the post despite reading the same page for a good five minutes and Bill was staring deeply into his bowl of soup. "Why is everyone on edge tonight?"

Bill looked up and smirked, "You've noticed, eh?"

"Arthur and Hermione are going to be released from the safe house tonight," explained Kingsley folding the post and setting it on the table.

Molly crossed the kitchen and set a bowl of soup down in front of Harry all the while glaring across the table at Kingsley. "They're supposed to be released tonight… whether they actually are going to be is another matter. Whether they have even been at the safe house for the last two weeks for sure or not is-"

"Mum, they're there. All the aurors witnessed it. Dad grabbed Hermione and they apparated away. They're fine and they will be here," interrupted Bill quickly. He knew is mother was on the right track to worrying herself silly. Of course none of them wanted to think of the possibility of what if the two had not actually been safely tucked away in a Ministry funded sanctuary because the other options were far too terrifying to consider.

Kingsley and Bill both knew that they would have to deal with that hurdle if it came. But for now, the best idea was to continue to believe that Arthur and Hermione were alive and well. And unfortunately included with that meant waiting, a task no wizard was quite good with especially a Weasley.

Molly nodded accepting Bill's reassurances before flicking her wand towards the dishes in the sink. Immediately the mess went to work washing itself. With a sigh she took a seat next to Kingsley.

"So is George going to come by later?" asked Kingsley in an attempt to steer Molly to a better topic.

"Yes. Once he closes the shop. And Percy should be by tomorrow morning," she answered.

"How's the shop doing these days?"

As the three went about conversing in an effort to get their mind off things, Harry instead found his own mind particularly focused. His recovery had been painful. Despite being comatose for the worst of it, somewhere in the back of his mind he had somehow registered the bursts of pain. But above all, during that time he remembered Hermione and her face. His dreams had been filled with her and her look of horror after he had been struck, the image having been burned into his retina where his mind could return to it. To the day, her scream still echoed in his ear. His name shrieking from her mouth had been the last sound he had heard before slipping into unconsciousness.

Once his eyes had shut, it took him a week before his mind finally released him back to the waking world. Healer Jones had stayed with him practically the entire time, only bothering to eat or sleep when absolutely necessary. She had been quite dedicated to his care. Luckily though, she was able to get some rest during that time as she did have four of the most willing substitutes.

Initially, Kingsley had kept them confined to the house, but after three days when Healer Jones noted that Harry was relatively stable he had lightened the wards. None of them left, of course. They all refused to part from Harry until he awoke which, thankfully, he did four days later.

After his waking, Harry had drastically improved.

Jones continued administering him potions, but as the week drew on he got stronger and stronger. Now, besides a potion here and there, all he had was the sling which he, quite frankly, didn't really think he needed. He only wore it to appease Molly. His left side had taken the brunt of the blow, nearly blasting off his entire arm. The sling had been necessary at first, but Harry had been secretly taking it off throughout the day to see how his arm was faring. Obviously, he didn't have full range of motion and he wasn't much for lifting anything, but he figured it was healing rather nicely. George was the most optimistic of them all, promising to work with him and help him rebuild the muscle. Jones doubted if Harry would ever get full use of his arm back, but that did not deter George. The wizard would not hear any of it which Harry was immensely grateful for.

"I guess my Quidditch career is officially out the window…" He had solemnly said one day.

"I thought that was officially out the window with your auror career?"

"True… but I figured I might keep it as a back up… Still, I'll never really play again."

"Now if I had to name one bloke in all of England who could bounce back from injuries like you've had… well Harry Potter'd be the first one I'd say. You'll play Quidditch again, mate… Probably better than ever. You're the boy who fucking lived after all!" George had patted Harry's back and right there that had been the end of his negativity about his arm. Since then, he had been far more determined.

He wanted to get better. He wanted to heal.

But, even so, no matter how hard he begged his mind to focus on healing, he simply couldn't. Not while she was away. And when reminded of her absence, as in cases such as right at that very moment, he found his whole body switched gears entirely. A desperate and unstoppable shift occurred in his system where the only thing he was capable of was thinking of her. After such incidences, it was a surprise that he could pull himself out of it to do much of anything let alone heal his broken body.

It was at night that he thought of her most, right as he laid down to rest. Her face, her scream continually popped into his brain, a nightmarish token of his waking life.

He worried about her constantly. Where was she? Was she ok? Was she even as safe as Kingsley and Bill believed? When would she return? If she didn't, what would he do then? What could he do then? He felt powerless. More than anything he felt empty. He had awoken a week ago expecting to see Hermione's tired and worried face hovering over his bed. Instead, he had opened his eyes and had been met with the careful, calculating ones of an elderly mediwitch that he had never seen before. It was fine and all having Mrs. Weasley, Bill, George, and Kingsley around during the day as distractions. But at night, he found he could not keep his thoughts at bay. He could not keep her away.

He missed her.

Life just didn't feel right, it wasn't the same. What was the point of getting better when everyday he'd wake and there would be no relieved Hermione by his side? And despite all of George's optimism, how could he truly believe his arm was going to fully heal without having heard the history and statistical probability of all left arm injuries from a certain bookworm?

His arm had been reattached. His bone had grown back along with some muscle, tendons, and skin, but his heart seemed to have gone missing. And he knew that he would not feel whole again until she was as safe as she'd ever be in the only place that mattered: with him. So like Molly Weasley across from him, Harry found himself achingly anxious praying for the arrival of Arthur and Hermione.

Then just as if his wishes had been granted, he heard the front door down the hall open.

Looking up from his soup, he saw the rest of the group halt as they too heard the same. Off in the distance, the front door was shut with purpose and then the creaking of footsteps was heard coming down the hall. Everyone turned to the swinging door waiting for whoever the new arrival- or arrivals- might be.

The door swung forward as a red tuft of hair poked its way around from behind it.

"It's just George," muttered Bill as the entire group deflated.

"That's what you think dear brother, but I found a few strays out on the street. Figure I should bring 'em in," smirked George stepping aside. He held the door open to reveal the eager face of his tired father.

"Arthur! Thank Merlin!" cried Mrs. Weasley rising from her seat. Hurriedly she made her way over to him as he stepped through the door. Arthur stopped just past it as Molly threw herself into his awaiting arms. "I was so worried."

"It's all right. I'm perfectly fine, my dear," replied the smiling wizard. "But I am happy to finally be back." The two shared a kiss.

"Ahhh gross! Oi! If you two aren't too busy snogging, do ya mind moving aside so the rest can get in here?" shouted George.

Molly still had enough wits about her to manage at least one glare at George before shuffling out of the way. Hermione stepped through next, closely followed by Healer Jones. As Molly shot out of Arthur's arms to engulf Hermione into a bone crushing embrace, Arthur went to greet Bill and Harry, who were now standing waiting for their turn.

"Thank Merlin Harry that you're all right!" exclaimed Mr. Weasley. With a gentle eye, Arthur surveyed the boy before him, taking note of his thin body and the sling wrapping his left arm. Carefully, he pulled Harry in for a short embrace. Breaking apart, Arthur let out a sigh of relief, one that he had been holding in for nearly two weeks. As much as he had believed Harry would pull through, another part of him, however small, feared the worst upon their return. He knew most of all that Hermione may never have forgiven him had the outcome been different.

"We thought we may have lost you," he said soberly.

Harry nodded, "I thought I might've lost you too."

Shaking his head away from those negative thoughts, Arthur smiled and pulled Harry in again once more for good measure. This time as he drew back he made sure to clap him joyfully on the shoulder.

As Mr. Weasley moved over to Bill, Harry's eyes shifted to Hermione.

It was as if he could feel her chocolate depths examining him. When he turned to her, he saw that she had broken away from Mrs. Weasley, their initial embrace having finished. Instead, she stood still and guarded watching him, cataloging his every motion. He could tell just from her furrowed brow and her darkened eyes that she had instantly taken notice of his thin stature, a result of being bedridden for nearly a week and half. He could feel her eyes scan his arm like some sort of x-ray machine. He knew she was already drawing her conclusions about his state, his wellbeing.

She seemed leagues away from him even though she stood only a couple meters distance.

And as sudden as it always came, he felt the desperate need to be near her. He wanted nothing more than to close the gap between them, to be whole again. But not even before he took his first step did the two fingers of her hand rise in the most infinitesimal of gestures halting him where he stood. Briefly, her eyes gave way to something he could not pinpoint. Was it fear? Alarm of some sort?

Whatever the reason, he had registered that small plea for him to stop and so he did, although his questioning eyes never left hers.

With determination, she broke eye contact and turned to Kingsley. "I need to speak with you, Kingsley."

Whether the rest were aware of Harry and Hermione's lack of joyful reconciliation was unclear, but all were quiet as they regarded Kingsley and Hermione.

"Alone… please," added Hermione to the newfound stillness of the kitchen.

Kingsley looked around, seeing everyone's interest, before nodding slightly. With a definitive breath, Hermione turned on her heel as the Head of the Auror Department followed close behind. Just before walking out, Kingsley turned to Arthur and Harry. "Arthur, there are some things I'd like to discuss with you after this and Harry, I'd suggest you follow Healer Jones upstairs so that she can administer your potions."

The two nodded and then watched as Kingsley pushed through the door.