The trouble with time is that it passes. Moments of beauty that you want to last forever don't and moments of heartbreak that happen in a second seem to stretch on for years. All these moments. And the world spins madly on.

The summer was ending. It had ended the day Harry had left her in heap on the cobblestone street with a near stranger to pick her up. And the world spun madly on.

Bill had been at a loss of what to do. He was angry at her, but wasn't about to leave the sobbing wreck of a girl stranded on a random street in Australia barely clothed and shivering. He had taken her without asking, apparating to the bungalow that he and Fleur had been occupying for the last few months. Fleur had been shocked, greeting them with an open mouth and wide eyes. They had wrapped the near comatose girl in a blanket and had her lie down in the spare bedroom as Bill had explained what had happened.

They were kind. Fleur brought her soup and a change of comfortable clothes and Bill returned to the bed and breakfast to gather her things. And the world spun madly on.

Hermione did tell Fleur, as Bill stood arms crossed in a doorway. She told them about searching and finding her parents on a whim, about leaving Ron, how she broke things off with a poorly worded letter. She spoke of Harry, about their summer, about how the feelings had sprouted between them like freshly watered grass. She cried, Fleur held her, and Bill listened. And the world spun madly on.

They helped her in ways that Hermione never could've imagined that they would. She had been waiting for Bill to chuck her out on the street, but he didn't. Instead he helped her. He forced her up on August the 20th, handed her wand to her, and told her stoically that it was time to finish what she had come here to do.

They apparated to Coomera. They found the dental practice. And she had done it.

It was like watching milk being poured into tea, her parent's blank eyes clouded with memories, orbs spinning like a pensive. It was her mother who cried out first, dropping the dental mold she had been holding in a crash on the sterile floor. She embraced Hermione as if she were going to disappear, her father joining moments later. There were gut wrenching sobs and bone crushing embraces, teary eyed introductions to the red headed man with the scars standing awkwardly behind them. Through all these things nobody noticed the dark-haired boy with the green eyes watching from across the street.

And the world spun madly on.

Hermione had latched onto her parents like a lifeline. She told them everything that had happened from the moment in August nearly a year earlier when she had wiped their memories to the moment she had found them. They were angry with her for taking their memories and quarreled deep into the night. Her parents struggled to realize that they were not of the magical world and as much as they wanted to, they could not protect their daughter from that which they did not know.

They rejoiced at the pregnancy. The Granger's were having a little girl and were six months pregnant. They spoke of names as Hermione rested her head against her mother's belly and listened to the baby's heartbeat. She felt safe for the first time in a long time. She loved Harry, she loved Ron, she loved the Weasleys, but her parents were home. They were the people who had known her the longest and Hermione had been petrified that she would never get the chance to see them again.

But she was different, and her parents noticed. The driven, decisive, and measured girl who had left a year earlier was not the girl who returned to them.

She was flat and anxious, unsure and teary eyed. Bill had not let Hermione forget that Ron was in a right state at the burrow. Just because she had found a brief reprieve in her parents did not mean that the problems she and Harry had created did not still lie in wait. Her parents did not let her forget that an answer was due to Hogwarts in a matter of days and that her entire future could be on the line. They had always put the greatest stock in Hermione's education and even though they could see she was utterly heartbroken they made no secret that they thought the best option would be for her to return to Hogwarts for a final term to complete her N.E. .

And then there was Harry. He had left her in pieces, in a strange country, with an impossible task looming over her head. He had left her without warning when days earlier he had promised to stick it out. He had nearly ruined her. But she had ruined him as well.

She had lured him to Australia out of fear of losing him. And he had followed her. And she had fallen in love with him. But she couldn't give him the answer that he wanted when he asked her so plainly to choose him. She was riddled with guilt and despair over what she had done to him, but she was also angry. He had left her, demanded a choice when she was in no state to give him an answer. So he had left forcing her hand and she had chosen him. Screaming out into the night she had chosen him, but he had left.

She wrote to him. Long angry paragraphs scrawled on parchment, pages blotted with tears, but the letters went unsent.

To the Granger's it was simple. Teenage romance was messy, and Harry, Ron, and Hermine had been through one of the most traumatic experiences they could have ever endured, mixing feelings, reliance on one another, it was a recipe for disaster.

"Hermione," her mother spoke one night in late August over dinner, "I know you love him… I know you love them both and this feels like the end of the world, but the truth is, unless you let go, unless you forgive the situation, unless you realize that the situation is over, you cannot move forward. There is so much more ahead of you than you even know."

Hermione's eyes brimmed as she pushed the food around on her plate. "I don't want to leave you… how can I go back there…without them… when I've only just gotten you both back?"

"Darling," her father reached across the table squeezing her hand, "if you really don't want to go… then we won't force you to do anything, but we will not be your excuse. You're not going back, you're going forward."

"It might not be pretty," her mother chimed in placing a hand on the back of her head, "and you're going to have to face your mistakes sooner or later, and its going to hurt darling. It's going to hurt a lot, but you just put one foot in front of the other and try to move forward."

And she did. That night she wrote to Professor McGonagall accepting the invitation to return, embracing next steps through the fear and doubt. And even more difficult she took the gut-wrenching action of writing to Ron, letting him know her decision to return to Hogwarts, asking him if he would meet her in Diagon Alley on the 31st.

It would be a lie to say she wasn't looking forward to seeing Ron. It would be a lie to say she wasn't dreading it. It had been exactly a month since she had left with Harry. Exactly one month since she had sent him a letter telling him that he had been right. There was somebody else. Somebody that she needed to explore things with and that she couldn't offer any other information than that. It was cowardly and avoidant and her stomach surged in trepidation as she sat in the Leaky Cauldron waiting for him.

She was seated in a booth towards the back of the pub, her eyes cast down. A brimming mug of butter beer sat fizzing untouched in front of her, the thought of its sweetness making her stomach turn. She wrung her hands nervously and scraped her teeth over her bottom lip terrified and unsure of what she was going to say.

Ron was late, which didn't surprise her, as his time management had always been poor. She glanced around looking for the familiar crop of red hair, eyes scanning the establishment and its patrons. They fell to the window next to her and what she saw nearly made her choke.

It was Harry, standing across the street, smiling, deep in conversation with Cho Chang. His hair had been cut, a shade lighter than usual from the weeks they had spent under the sun, and his beard was gone entirely. He was dressed simply, somewhere between the old and new, in a pair of frayed jeans, green t-shirt, and all black trainers.

The feeling that rose-up in Hermione was unlike anything she had ever experienced before. Her heartbeat thumped loudly in her ears as she stared dumbfounded through the dusty window, watching the two of them.

He was smiling. Harry had left her in pieces in Australia without a second glance and now here he was standing laughing with his ex-girlfriend in Diagon Alley.

Her cheeks were hot and jaw clenched, palms pressing into the table.

The rational version of herself would have told her that it was jealousy and anger. That she should take a deep breath and realize that she too was sitting waiting to meet with her own ex-boyfriend. But the rational version of herself hadn't fallen into a mad love with Harry Potter.

Seeing him had erased all thoughts of Ron from her sub-conscious. She stood from the booth and exited the Leaky Cauldron. The sunlight hit her hard and she squinted as Harry embraced Cho who pulled back and kissed him on the cheek. It was as if her mind was disconnected from her body and a blind rage seeped from the pit in her stomach to the base of her throat. She was striding towards them, her flats soundless as they melded into the cobblestone with each step. Cho had just pulled back from Harry when Hermione reared past her and shoved Harry with all the strength she had in her petit body.

"You bastard!" she snarled, eyes blazing, and Harry had barely righted himself before she started pushing him again.

The only thing more unthinkable than leaving was staying; the only thing more impossible than staying was leaving.

She had consumed him. He was putty in the palm of her hand. She had looked at him with those brown eyes that haunted him for so many months and told him she could marry him. He was hers and she was his. Or so he had thought.

Why would we choose this?

Harry had thought that was obvious.

We're fucked.

He knew they were broken, but weren't they beautiful too?

It was as if a switch had flipped. They had been flying higher than he had ever thought possible, and in a moment had come crashing down to earth.

And so he left…

But he didn't get far. The days that followed passed in a blur. There was alcohol, there were tears, there was anger, there was guilt, but none of it mattered. Sober or drunk, it was always her. Sad or angry, she was there. She had been branded into his psyche like a burn and as much as he wanted to run and never look back, he couldn't. He couldn't leave her. Not until he was certain she was going to get what she came for.

He lingered in Coomera like a ghost, spending his nights by the water and days perched in the window of the coffee shop across the street from Wilkins Dental. He didn't remember the exact day, but late one morning he saw a man with long red hair pulled back behind his ears appear out of nowhere, his familiar fang earring glinting in the sunlight. And he saw her. It had been only days, but the sight of Hermione made Harry's stomach lurch and his chest felt heavy as he gripped the newspaper he was pretending to read tighter, forcing himself to remain seated.

He waited… seconds… minutes, hours it seemed. He was afraid if he blinked he would miss it. And then he saw it. Through the window he saw a very pregnant dark-haired woman lunge and envelop Hermione in her arms. Moments later William Granger came into view pulling both of the sobbing women into his own embrace, pressing his lips to his daughter's temple, eyes screwed shut. Harry's heart soared and he gritted his own teeth in a tight-lipped smile. She had done it. His beautiful, brilliant girl had done it. He had to suppress the urge to jump up and start clapping as he glanced around the shop making sure nobody had noticed the change in his demeanor.

Seeing Hermione reunite with her parents was a moment Harry would not soon forget. He didn't know the Granger's well at all, the muggle world having been something he had turned a blind eye to for such a long time. They had only met a handful of times and while they were kind Harry had never really given them much thought. But watching the family embrace made Harry's chest hurt with longing and a part of him wished he did know them, wished he was a part of it, wished he was a part of Hermione still.

When he thought of family, he thought first of the Dursleys, who were a horrible example. Then his mind shifted to his parents, who he had only gotten to know through, mirrors, photographs, stories, and a turned stone. He thought of Sirius, who had been taken from him just as quickly as he had become a tangible presence. And despite himself he thought of the family that had loved him like a son from his first year at Hogwarts. He thought about Mrs. Weasley, and the words she had said to Sirius during his fifth year.

"He's not your son Molly."

"He's as good as."

He thought of Mr. Weasley, of George, Bill, and Charlie, even Percy. He thought of Ginny and the bond they had built since fifth year when she had finally started talking to him. And he thought of Ron, his very best friend. He hadn't allowed himself to think about him because of the guilt that came with the realization of betrayal. But he missed him. He missed all of the Weasley's more than he had cared to admit and seeing Hermione enveloped in her parent's arms brought this boiling to the surface.

He wanted to be embraced. He wanted to curl into a ball and have somebody put their arms around him and tell him it was okay. He wanted to stop taking care of everybody, of fighting, of lying, of avoiding. So he went to the place that felt like home.

Andromeda was bouncing a smiling Teddy on her hip when she heard the crack. She turned abruptly to see a familiar silhouette outlined on her porch and she motioned with her free hand for him to come inside.

"My dear boy!" she smiled widely at Harry as he pushed open the screen door, "where's…" she trailed off as she saw the expression on his face.

Harry shook his head, jaw clenched, and his lower lip began to quiver.

"Oh my boy," Andromeda exclaimed softly and setting Teddy down in his high chair she pulled a trembling Harry into her arms patting his back.

Harry didn't hesitate to tell Andromeda what had happened as she already knew the half of it. He told her about North Berwick, about the letter from Hogwarts, about their arguments, searching and finding her parents. He recalled Bill, their fight, his demand, Hermione's inability to give him an answer, and how he left. He was about to continue when Andromeda who had been sitting opposite him on the couch stood quickly shaking her head.

"Wait," she interrupted holding both her hands in front of her signaling Harry to stop. "Did you just say, that you found Hermione's parents, Bill Weasley caught you, and you demanded an answer from her to choose you, and when she couldn't give you an answer, you left her."

Harry sat heavy lidded and he ran a hand through his hair. "That's not how it happened. She told me we were fucked. She told him she only brought me to Australia because she didn't want to lose me. She told me that she didn't know who she was going to choose…"

"So you left her!"

"You don't understand," Harry shook his head.

"Harry, you left that poor girl a wreck in a strange country-"

She… she, broke my fucking heart." Harry spat defensively his voice cracking.

Andromeda softened and she fell into the seat beside him as Harry leaned forward his head in his hands. She placed a hand on his back as she spoke, her tone less biting, but her words still deliberate. "I know she hurt you Harry, but that doesn't give you the right to hurt her back."

Harry jumped up angry, spinning around to face her. "I didn't leave to hurt her!" He bellowed loudly hands flailing. "I left because I was tired of waiting for her to choose! I left because I was tired of looking at her and thinking I was it and then learning hours later that I wasn't! I left to stop the hurt…" he trailed off breathing heavily.

"How is that working out for you Harry? For both of you?"

"I don't care!" Harry yelled at her, "I've had enough. I wanted out so I left. I wanted it to end so I left. I made the decision she couldn't make for her, for myself. I'm done caring. I don't care anymore."

Andromeda sat unflinching, her expression calm. "You do care Harry. You care so much you feel as though you will bleed to death with the pain of it."

And she was right. Harry was utterly gutted. Gutted at himself for leaving her when she needed him most.

"Listen to me," Andromeda stood to face him, "I know you love her, but this… is… well its not healthy. She hurt you, so you left her, your together, but it's a secret. I think its time for you to start thinking about your own life."

"You don't understand," Harry trailed off, "I'm fucking in love with her."

"I know you are Harry-"

"No you don't!" he raised his voice an octave. "She… she's it for me. Believe me I wish she wasn't, but she is. I know she's not supposed to be… that its wrong."

"Its not wrong Harry," Andromeda shook her head, "you don't love the wrong person, but sometimes you love the wrong person at the wrong time, the wrong moment. Sometimes you do things because of love that hurt other people, that hurt the one you love. That doesn't make her the wrong person Harry."

Harry stared at her his eyes shining. "What am I supposed to do?"

"My dear boy," she placed a hand on his cheek, "you just put one foot in front of the other."

And despite it all… he did.

He discussed Hogwarts with Andromeda at length. He was straight forward in the fact that he couldn't fathom going back to school, but when she asked him what he wanted to do instead he didn't have an answer. He had spent the summer love drunk and focused solely on the present, blocking out the world around him. The idea of being subject to school rules, curfews, and dormitory living seemed laughable at this point. He had grown to crave solitude and expect freedom. Where being inside the castle walls had once given him immense comfort in now gave him a feeling of claustrophobia that he couldn't quite explain.

Andromeda didn't chastise or pressure. She was a good listener and when Harry lamented this to her she explained that she had spent so much time trying to change Tonks that she had nearly lost her daughter in the process.

Andromeda was creative, and where Harry had seen a dead-end she saw opportunity. She encouraged him to seek out Professor McGonagall to discuss his options and when Harry had pushed back she said in sing-song. "You'll never know unless you ask."

So in late August Harry found himself inside the Three Broomsticks face to face with Professor McGonagall.

It was very strange to be seated across from her and she looked as out of place as he felt.

"Well, Potter… I have to admit I was quite surprised to receive your owl. I'm guessing this visit is about more than whether or not you have decided to return."

"Yes," Harry nodded running a hand through his messy hair. "I wanted to talk to you about coming back… about what that will look like for me."

"I can assure you Potter," Professor McGonagall cut him off, "that it will look that same as any other year."

"That's what I wanted to talk to you about… I don't even know if I want to come back, but I don't know what else I'm supposed to do and sticking around and taking N.E. seems like the… well the smartest option. But if I come back… I need it to be… well different."

McGonagall appraised him sternly, her lips tight, "Different… how?"

"I want to live in Hogsmeade," Harry blurted it before he could hesitate, "I… If I come back I don't want to live in the castle… in Gryffindor tower."

McGonagall squinted at him as if he was speaking another language. "Mr. Potter, I can promise you that Hogwarts will not finance-"

"I'll pay my own let," Harry cut her off abruptly, "I just… I can't. Please try to understand. I can't stay there. Not after everything that's happened."

"And what about your duties as Head Boy?"

"I don't want to be Head Boy. I don't want to be Quidditch Captain either, it should be Ginny." Harry paused meeting her hard gaze. "Look, I know this is… unusual."

"Very."

They sat in strained silence as Harry tapped his finger nervously on the table.

"What about your friends Potter," McGonagall's voice had softened slightly. "What about Mr. Weasley and Ms. Granger."

"Like I said," Harry hesitated, "I can't stay there."

McGonagall assessed him through her spectacles and after a pause that seemed to last for minutes she spoke, her voice sharp. "You will be at every one of your classes on time and in school robes. You will be permitted use of the castle and grounds during the hours of seventh year curfew, 6:00am to 10:00pm. You will walk to and from the grounds using the main entrance and a password that only you shall possess. No secret passageways – yes I know they exist Potter. No friends are to visit you outside of Hogsmeade visits, unless they are of age and have my written permission and only between the hours of curfew. I am able to change any of the above written rules at any time that I deem fit, do you understand me Potter."

"Yes, yes!" Harry sputtered in absolute shock, "none of this will be a problem."

"This is a privilege Potter. You are coming back to school and while I understand there are circumstances that prevent you from doing so in a usual manner you will be held to the same standard and expectation as any other seventh year student. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, yes Professor."

"And one last thing," she said her eyes scanning his face.

"Anything."

"Shave that beard."

He found a one-bedroom flat on the main street in town above Scrivenshaft's Quill Shop. It was in quiet part of the village, the shop owner lamenting that they were never particularly busy. The flat was small and partially furnished. It housed a small wood burning stove, creaky old oak floors, and an oversized clawfoot tub. Harry was reminded of the cottage in North Berwick and his chest felt hollow as he had signed the lease agreement.

There was an ease that came with choosing. He had made the decision to return to Hogwarts on his own terms and he felt a confidence that he hadn't felt in a very long time. Andromeda was right. You didn't know what would happen unless you tried. So pushing past the void of Hermione, he did the thing he was dreading most. He wrote to Ron.

It was a simple letter – pathetic, but a letter all the same.

Dear Ron,

How are you?

I know I've been a prat and I can't tell you how sorry I am. I'm pretty screwed up. But I miss you.

I don't know what you're doing, but I'm going back to Hogwarts. I'm living in Hogsmeade, it's a long story, but I had a drink with McGonagall and she's letting me rent a flat. Anyway, I really want to catch up. I'm going to be in Diagon Alley on the 31st and hope you'll meet me. Either way I'll keep an eye out for you.

Harry

He spent the days leading up to his departure for Diagon Alley as he had earlier in the summer, with Teddy. He savored his moments with the little boy and had missed him more than he'd realized. He was growing like a weed and it seemed like every single day a new part of his personality was surfacing. Whether it be a laugh, a smile, or a look, Teddy was a welcome distraction from the pit that seemed to permanently exist in his stomach.

It was impossible not to think about Hermione. She plagued his mind like a virus and when he closed his eyes at night he dreamt of her brown eyes, her body beneath his as the waves crashed around them. He would wake up reaching out to hold her and his fingers would grasp at the empty space. He didn't know if she was going back to Hogwarts, what her plans were. They had never gotten that far. When faced with the conversation of what would happen in the real world they both had been too paralyzed to answer. The thing about space and time is that it had given Harry a painful, but eye-opening dose of reality. They had been love-drunk on each other, oblivious to the outside world and those around them. They were an escape for one another and escapes could not exist in the real world.

Harry promised Andromeda that he would stop by as often as he could, and that they were welcome at his small flat any time they wanted. Andromeda kissed his cheek and promised she would write often and that she would see him soon. With a final stroke of Teddy's soft head, Harry pulled a handful of floo powder from the tin next to the fireplace and departed for Diagon Alley.

He appeared in the fireplace at the Leaky Cauldron around half past nine, his rucksack slung heavily over his shoulder. He had already sent his trunks to his flat earlier that week and he nodded to Tom the barman as he exited onto the bustling street.

His first stop was to Weeoanwhiskers Barber Shop. Harry wasn't entirely sure if McGonagall was serious about his beard or not, but he figured it was better not to push his luck. He had to explain to the barber several times that no matter what he did his hair would not lie flat and after the gentleman had threatened to shave it all off Harry had stood and exited as quickly as he could.

His eyes scanned the crowds for Ron as he walked. He hadn't received post back and he wouldn't blame him if he had chosen to ignore Harry's letter and request to meet. Harry had just decided to head towards Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes when he bumped smack dab into a familiar face.

"S-sorry," Harry stammered as he righted himself and he looked down to see Cho Chang.

"Harry!" she said gleefully placing her arms on his forearms to steady herself, "how are you?"

"Cho… hi," he was surprised to see her. "Sorry… I didn't mean to."

"No, bother! Are you heading back to Hogwarts? I wasn't sure who was going back, but I've run into quite a few people."

"I am," Harry nodded pulling his rucksack back over his shoulder.

"What about Ron and Hermione? Are they with you?"

Harry shook his head a little too quickly, "No, no just me. Actually, have you seen Ron by chance?"

"I haven't," Cho said looking around. "I'm sure they're here somewhere. I heard they finally got together. I saw Katie Bell over the holiday and she told me all about it."

"Right." Harry nodded his jaw pulsing.

"I remember when I thought you fancied her," Cho laughed.

Harry laughed a little too hard at this swallowing the bile that had risen in the back of his throat. "So, what are you up to?"

"I've actually started healer training." Cho nodded sweeping her long black hair off her shoulder.

"That's great," Harry spoke genuinely for the first time, "Cho that's really brilliant, good for you. You'll be a wonderful healer, I'm sure of it."

"Thanks Harry," she smiled at him fondly and looked over his shoulder. "I'm actually supposed to meet somebody…"

"Of course, brilliant to see you." Harry was relieved to have an end to the conversation.

"You too Harry," she grinned as she pulled him into a friendly hug and grazed his cheek briskly with her lips.

One moment he was standing saying a friendly goodbye to his ex-girlfriend, and the next was stumbling backwards. It took him a moment to register that he had been shoved and he landed in a thud against the window of the empty shop behind him. He looked up half expecting to see Ron, but his eyes bulged in shock as he registered Hermione, her brown eyes alight with fury, her hair windswept, and cheeks flushed.

"You bastard!" she snarled with menace as she slammed him back against the window.

"Hermione-" Harry tried to get a word in, but she cut him off.

"You bloody bastard," she continued to claw at him with blind rage.

"Stop pushing me!" he yelled after a moment, and when she did not relent he did the only thing he could think of. He enveloped her in a bear hug pinning her arms against her sides.

She struggled against him cursing at him to let go of her.

"Calm down!" he breathed sharply into her hair. He looked around at the pedestrians who were slowing to watch as they passed and turned his eyes to Cho who stood helplessly her mouth hanging in an O.

He nodded at her once, and quickly turned, dragging Hermione gently, but purposefully by the arm into the alley behind Ollivander's abandoned wand shop.

"Let go of me Harry," Hermione flung herself from his grasp. "Get your hands off me!"

"You're making a scene!" Harry bellowed at her arms wide as he glanced to the street behind them.

"What are you doing here?" she spat bitterly as she rounded on him. "What are you doing back in London?"

Harry opened his mouth to answer, but she cut him off.

"You left me!" Hermione couldn't help the cry that escaped her lips, nor could she stop the hot angry tears that slid down her cheeks. "You left me and now you show up here… as if nothings happened."

Harry's heart nearly snapped in two. He slung his rucksack to the ground and reached inside pulling the invisibility cloak form the back pocket. Wrapping it around his shoulders he stepped towards her without a second thought concealed them both beneath its silky, silvery shroud. She crashed against him, fists balled against his chest, deep sobs wracking her tiny body. His arms enfolded around her and he buried his face in her hair breathing in her scent as if she were going to disappear.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled softly after a few moments and she pulled back to meet his gaze, her eyes puffy and red. The sight made his own throat thick, and he pulled her face into his hands wiping their trail with his thumbs. He pulled her lips to his own automatically. Hermione caught his bottom lip between her teeth and their kiss quickly grew feverish. Hermione pressed herself into Harry as hard as she possibly could, slinking her arms beneath his t-shirt and her fingers raked up his muscled back. Harry groaned into her mouth and turned so that she was flush against the wall.

How she had missed him.

How he had missed her.

Abruptly, Harry pulled back and Hermione was about to protest when he did something unexpected. He dropped his head to the crook of her neck and wrapped his arms tight around her middle. She felt the muscles of his shoulders contract as he squeezed her, breathing in the scent of her neck. She smelled of summer, of everything he remembered. Hermione removed her hands from beneath his shirt and wrapped them around his neck hiding her face in his chest. They stayed like that for a long time. Neither one of them wanting to break the moment.

A noise from the street beyond eventually broke their trance and Harry was the first to pull back. With a shaky breath he stepped away from Hermione and pulled the invisibility cloak from around them balling it up beneath his arm.

Their moment of togetherness had been permeated by reality almost as abruptly as it happened. They were no longer hiding on a beach in Gold Coast, no longer running wild from those they left behind. There was a chasm between the two of them that had existed since their last night in Burleigh Heads that not even passion could obscure.

"Harry we need-"

"Hermione I-"

They spoke simultaneously, all words and nerves.

"We need to talk," Hermione said flatly her earlier rage gone.

"I'm supposed to be meeting Ron…" Harry ran a hand through his recently cut hair, "and here I am tangled up in you…"

"I was waiting for him in the Leaky Cauldron when I saw you…" Hermione trailed off swallowing back the lump that formed in her throat.

"What the hell is wrong with us?" Harry asked in a distraught whisper. "It's like when I'm around you I can't control myself. I can't stay away from you."

Hermione stared at him jaw set hard. She understood entirely. For when she saw Harry speaking to Cho all sound thought had left her almost instantaneously. All her life it had not been her nature to be impulsive and irrational. She had lead with jealousy before, but had never reacted as she had in Diagon Alley this morning. She felt out of control and very much not herself and she was finally beginning to understand what Harry had said to her the night he had left.

We bring out the worst in each other.

Hermione spoke in a measured calm that Harry wasn't expecting. "We can't do this here. We need to speak privately… about everything. I'm staying in the Leaky Cauldron for the night, room 42. Can you meet me there this evening?"

Harry nodded once looking rather green.

Hermione surveyed him sharply the ferocity she had felt brimming in her stomach earlier creeping in again. "You can't keep avoiding this Harry. I've been trying to bring things up for weeks and you-"

"I'll meet you at seven," Harry interrupted her with a pang of irritation in his voice and without a backwards glance he grabbed his rucksack and stalked out of the alley.