September 1, 1998
If it were possible, he missed her more than he loved her.
Leaving the Leaky Cauldron that night was even harder than all of their earlier goodbyes. It wasn't final, it wasn't over, it wasn't quick, it was… open ended. Like a blank space on a page in a book. One that looks too large to really make sense. They had spoken for hours, gone back and forth in sadness, anger, and love to come to the devastating conclusion that they could not be together.
Walking away from room 42 felt like saying goodbye. It was the end of the summer. Their days spent wrapped in each other's arms, shielded from the world were a distant memory. They had closed the door on that time with absolutely no discussion of what the future could possibly hold, only agreeing that at present it didn't involve them together. Hermione was right, it had been beautiful. It had been beautiful, crazy, innocent, and wild, but loving each other had nearly ruined them.
And so Harry did what they had agreed upon, even though every fiber of his being was urging him to stay. With a final look at the Leaky Cauldron, he closed his eyes and apparated to Hogsmeade.
Hermione didn't break as the door had clicked shut behind him. She had already broken so many times that the tears were gone. She climbed into bed, numb, and buried herself beneath the sheets praying for sunlight to drive out the darkness. It was a restless night and she woke in the grey of the early morning and lost herself in organization and preparation for her departure.
Harry wanted to distance himself from school to block out the pain, Hermione planned to immerse herself in it. She was Head Girl, a former Prefect, and was planning to attempt to achieve ten N.E. this year. She would have little time for much else and was looking forward to the familiarity and predictability of the year to come.
Harry craved freedom and Hermione yearned structure.
She arrived at Kings Cross Station at half past ten, well in advance of the 11:00am departure. She slid through the wall at platform 9 ¾ as discretely as possible and was met with the scarlet steam engine she had boarded so many times before. The platform was empty and she situated herself in the rear most compartment of the train to avoid the chaos of arriving students and families. She stowed her trunks quickly, settled into her seat, pulled out the Standard Book of Spells Grade Seven, and began to read.
It was easy to block out the bustle of arriving families. Her eyes were glued to the crisp white pages of her books as she leafed through them hungrily. She was quickly realizing that she knew quite a bit of what they were slated to learn this year and the thought both comforted and disappointed her.
The sound of the compartment door opening jolted her and her eyes jumped up to see Neville, round face smiling widely at her. "Is this compartment taken?"
"Neville!" Hermione cried happily, and she enveloped him in a friendly hug. "You're coming back!"
"My Gran didn't think last year counted and I never got a chance to take my N.E. ., plus," he paused reaching into his pocket and pulled out a shiny golden badge with the words Head Boy emblazoned across it, "I got this just a few days ago. Nearly sent Gran to St. Mungo's she was so shocked."
Hermione momentarily froze as she remembered Harry's letter and responded her voice a little too high pitched, "T-that's wonderful Neville."
"Well if you're going back, you must be head girl!" Neville urged excitedly, "I mean blimey, if I'm head boy Harry and Ron must not be going back..."
The sound of both of their names made Hermione's stomach lurch and she swallowed dryly, "I uh… don't know."
Neville hesitated for a moment then asked. "I went to visit Ginny with Luna in August and uh… noticed you weren't at the Burrow anymore."
Hermione lowered her gaze to the compartment floor and sighed, "Its really complicated, Neville. Is he… was Ron… how is Ron?"
"Did you really run off with Viktor Krum?" Neville said quickly.
Hermione whipped her head up, "What?"
"Or some muggle boy that you used to date?"
"What, no Neville I-" but she froze in her tracks. For standing in the open door of the compartment, red hair blazing, eyes boring into her was Ron.
It was as if somebody had punched her in the gut. She met his blue eyes with shocked trepidation and it all came flooding back to her in a wave of affection, sorrow, pain, and love that nearly made her knees buckle. Images of moments in the woods last year, eyes meeting in a silent understanding of what was developing between them, her rush of panic and despair when he had left them. Her anger and delight when he had returned. Kissing him as the world was burning, validating seven years of pent up feelings. Their quiet tender moments of healing earlier that summer. Laughing madly as they had danced at the masked ball in June. Kissing Harry that very same night on the astronomy tower, apparating to the woods and losing herself in a swell of passion. The guilt and curiosity that consumed her in the weeks that followed. Her slow realization of budding feelings that she couldn't explain, the shift from one to the other. It had been Ron, for a moment, and then… it was Harry. Everything was Harry.
They stared at each other, Hermione speechless and dumbstruck, Ron looking at her as if he were about to burst. Neville, between the two of them, with an expression of absolute horror etched onto his face.
"H-h-hi," Hermione spoke first, unable to manage more than a stammer.
Ron was glaring at her, his eyes hard and unrelenting and he spoke to her with a venom that she had not heard since Riddle's locket had been draped around his neck. "Hi yourself."
Hermione shook her head quickly, "Did you get my letter?"
Ron paused for a moment and said in a low voice, "Which one?"
Hermione's stomach danced and tears pricked at the back of her eyes and she clenched her lips together tightly trying to remain composed. "Ron, I…"
"Yeah, I got both your letters," Ron interrupted her, knuckles white as he gripped the door frame, "the one where you told me you were running off with some bloke and the one where you told me you were going back and that you wanted to talk. I burned them both, in case you were wondering. Where is he then? Muggle couldn't make it to the send off or did Vicky have quidditch practice?"
Hermione leapt to her feet in agitated desperation, "Ron! That is not what happened! I went to find my parents, I didn't just run off with… I'm sorry, I didn't mean to hurt you and I…"
Ron scoffed and turned on his heal disappearing from the door frame and Hermione moved to follow him ignoring the stares and whispers as she passed through the narrow aisle of the train. "Ron, please!"
He shouldered past three fourth years and disappeared into a compartment. Hermione reached the glass and was about to enter when she was met with not just one, but four sets of eyes. Ginny, Dean, Seamus, and Luna stared at her through the window and she froze poised to enter. Luna waved at her dazedly, Dean and Seamus didn't look angry so much as uncomfortable, but Ginny was glaring at her fiercely and she slid open the door a crack as Ron stowed his trunks.
"You need to leave," she spoke coldly and Hermione's heart sank. She and Ginny had always been close and the iciness in her friend's brown eyes sent a shiver down her spine.
"Ginny, I need to talk to him."
"Look, Hermione," Ginny's voice was firm, "he's been a wreck all summer and I really just need you to go back to your compartment and leave him the hell alone before I hex you."
"Ginny," Hermione pleaded, "I'm sorry-"
"Just go," Ginny raised her voice and motioned in the opposite direction and before Hermione could protest Ginny had slid the glass door shut and locked it with a wave of her wand.
Hermione traipsed slowly back to her compartment ignoring the gaggle of whispers and curious gazes. It was taking every ounce of energy she had to keep from bursting into tears and she was met with a nervous looking Neville and she re-entered the rear most compartment of the train.
"Are you okay?" he asked hesitantly.
Hermione shook her head biting back tears and she whispered quietly, "You should go Neville."
"I'll stay here!" Neville began to protest, but Hermione shook her head.
"Please, Neville I appreciate it, but I really would like to be alone."
Neville wavered for a moment, "I can handle the prefects, I'll say you're not feeling well."
Hermione's eyes burned at his kindness and her voice quivered as she spoke. "Thanks, Neville."
She fell into the seat and pulled her knees up to her chest as the tears began to stream silently down her cheeks and she swiped them away briskly. She had expected this, hell she even deserved this, but for some naïve reason she hadn't been expecting to see him so soon. The tears were not for her, they were not for the embarrassment or the guilt she felt, they were for him. For in his hardened blue eyes she had seen not just anger, but pain and confusion. It wasn't only the fact that she had left, but the way she had left. As she had said to Harry and Bill that night in Burleigh Heads, she had fucked up and in fucking up she had hurt somebody that she loved dearly.
Harry awoke from a restless slumber with his arm outstretched and reaching. He felt her absence. It was like waking up one day with no teeth in your mouth. You didn't need to run to the mirror to know they weren't there.
Returning to his flat in Hogsmeade the night before, he had fallen into an exhausted heap on his bed. Sleep had seemed like his only relief. When he was asleep he wasn't sad or angry or lonely. He was nothing. But each time he woke up, he woke up missing her.
He hadn't planned on going to the feast that evening. The idea of walking into the great hall, with hundreds of eyes staring at him was enough to make him wretch with anxiety. But a piece of parchment from McGonagall had been waiting for him upon his return and the note made it abundantly clear that he was expected to attend.
Putting on his Hogwarts robes felt foreign. He pulled on the black pants and white button down and knotted the gold and red tie lazily with the top button of his shirt undone. The September air was warm, and he opted to carry his robe to save himself from sweating through his shirt on the walk to the castle. He had chosen to forego his heavy leather dress shoes entirely this year and had purchased a pair of all black converse trainers instead. He wasn't entirely sure how McGonagall would feel about this, but truth be told, he didn't really care.
He began the short trek to the entrance gate and upon arriving pulled out the piece of parchment that the Headmistress had sent. The password was "splendiferous" and as he spoke it, the wrought iron gate disappeared, reappearing as soon as he had passed over the threshold into the school grounds. As he crossed the bridge towards the entrance hall he remembered back to a time last year when he would've given an arm and a leg to be back at Hogwarts. The nights in the forest he would spend staring at Ginny's name on the Maurader's Map, when Ron and Hermione would be off having secret conversations about all the things he didn't know. The desire to give up being the decision maker, the longing for a hot meal, and the urge to join his fellow students in making mischief and chaos for the death eaters that had taken up the regime at Hogwarts. But looking up at the castle now those feelings felt indescribably foreign. He wasn't laced with dread as he had been at the masked ball, but a quiet unease had settled in his bones.
The great hall was bustling as students talked animatedly amongst each other. There was a heightened energy to the start of a new year without a threat of war looming overhead as old friends caught up and new friends were made. The Slytherin table was marginally less lively than the other three, but all in all spirits were good. Harry pressed past the groups of students blocking the aisles between the four house tables and although he had tried to remain discrete in his actions it was mere moments before friendly Gryffindor's were clapping him on the back and reaching out to shake his hand with welcome greeting.
Ernie MacMillan even stepped onto the Hufflepuff table to get to Harry and patted him on the back roughly, "Harry, good to see you old chap. Glad you decided to come back."
"Alright, Ernie." Harry greeted him weakly. Shrugging out of Ernie's grasp he turned and bumped into the back of somebody. "Sorry," he began, but as he righted himself he realized he had walked directly into Ron.
A feeling of dread and excitement rose-up in Harry and he hesitated momentarily before breathing out weakly, "Hey mate."
For a moment Ron looked as if he was about to respond, but he quickly closed his open mouth, turned his back on Harry, and settled onto the bench looking straight ahead as if nothing had happened. Harry wasn't particularly surprised by this behavior, but it made his stomach hurt all the same. He had disappeared, leaving his best friend behind all summer without communication or explanation, not to mention the betrayals that Ron was unaware of.
His eyes drifted up to Ginny, who was sitting directly across from a hulking Ron, her brown eyes sharp on him. Harry offered a tentative, tight-lipped smile, but she did not return it and looked away from him quickly, but Harry had seen the momentary pain flit across her features. And then he saw her. Looking past Ginny to the edge of the table at the front most seat in the room was Hermione. Her hair fell in long waves over her shoulders and she sat as Harry had seen her sit so many times before, in Hogwarts robes, her head buried in a book. He could see the side of her face and could instantly tell she had been crying and his stomach lurched.
Hermione could feel eyes on her from every direction. The long train ride had made two things very clear, that her break-up with Ron was not a secret and that the rumors about her running off Viktor Krum or a faceless muggle boy from her past had spread like wildfire. Her reunion with Ron had been exactly what she was expecting, but it had jarred her none the less. Under normal circumstances she could have cared less about the childish swirl of chatter, but the sad truth of it was that they were not far off. Sure, she hadn't run off with the Bulgarian Quidditch player or a muggle boy, but she had gone off with somebody even worse, their best friend.
She felt him before she had seen him. Tearing her eyes away from her book she lifted her head and was met with a pair of familiar green eyes. The intensity of Harry's gaze made her skin prickle and she returned his eye contact intently, urging him to look away from her, worried that if others saw the intimate way he watched her they would know everything. Hermione shook her head slightly in the hopes of conveying the message that he should not come any closer.
Harry could tell she didn't want him to join her, but he ignored her pleas. His immediate concern for her had trumped everything and he held up a hand to Dean Thomas who was offering him a seat next to him and moved towards Hermione, tucking his legs underneath the table opposite her.
"What are you doing?" Hermione whispered through gritted teeth.
"Why are you crying?" Harry whispered ignoring her question and searched her face.
Her cheeks were pink and she shook her head, "Harry we can't talk about this here. You shouldn't be sitting with me."
"Are you okay?" he pressed further, "because you don't look okay."
"I'm fine," she mumbled in exasperation as she motioned around her. "People are watching."
"Watching what," Harry shrugged, "me talk to my best friend?"
"Harry, last night we agreed…"
"We agreed what?" Harry pressed a little louder and Hermione shushed him frantically.
"We agreed to stay away from each other," Hermione said this almost inaudibly.
"Just tell me you're okay."
"I'm fine Harry I promise," and she had to suppress the urge to reach across the table and squeeze his hand reassuringly. "Now please, just go."
"I'm not just going to leave you here by yourself."
Hermione groaned, "Harry, its fine. Just go."
He shook his head and stubbornly reached his hand across the table pulling the book she was reading out from under her nose.
"What are you doing?" Hermione asked flatly.
"I'm reading about… dark cloud constellations," Harrys eyes scanned the page, "fascinating stuff."
"Harry…" Hermione reached for her book, but he pulled it closer and began to read aloud.
"A dark cloud constellation also known as dark nebula or absorption nebula is a type of interstellar cloud that is so dense it obscures the visible wavelengths of light from objects behind it, such as background stars and emission or reflection nebulae. The extinction of the light is caused by interstellar dust grains located in the coldest, densest parts of molecular clouds. The famous astronomer Milky Way theorized that…"
Hermione couldn't help the burst of laughter that escaped from her lips as Harry looked up at her through his glasses a playful smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "This is serious stuff Hermione."
"Are you even taking astronomy?" she rolled her eyes as she rested her chin in her hand.
"I might now," Harry exclaimed in mock seriousness holding up her book, "I mean now that I've read about black cumulo nebulus…"
Hermione continued to laugh as she reached out to try to grab it from him, but he forced it underneath the table with a wry grin on his face. He looked boyish and handsome, his skin tanned from a summer spent in the sun, hair falling in short messy waves against his forehead. His tie knotted loosely at the base of his throat, eyes bright and playful. Had they been alone, she would have leaned across the table and kissed him.
But they were not alone. That was the part of Harry that scared Hermione the most. That she could be surrounded by hundreds of people and in a moment lose herself in him entirely. She broke eye contact suddenly, looking down at her hands clasped on the table.
"Hermione," Harry said seriously, and she raised her eyes to meet his, her gaze unsure. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a piece of thick folded parchment. Looking around to make sure nobody was watching he folded it into the pages of her astronomy book and slid it back across the table to her. "It's the Maurader's Map."
Hermione looked at him incredulously, "I'm not going to sneak around with you Harry."
"That's not what its for," he inhaled sharply, "if you… if anything gets to be too much. If you need anything at all, use it to come see me. Use the room of requirement. Aberforth won't ask questions."
Hermione shook her head trying to slide the book back across the table to him. "Harry, I'm Head Girl. I can't be sneaking out to see you in Hogsmeade."
Harry shrugged, "Well keep it because I'm not taking it back."
Before Hermione could protest McGonagall had stood and cleared her throat and the Great Hall fell into a hushed silence.
McGonagall's opening statements were brief, but neither Harry or Hermione was listening. They were both distracted trading sidelong glances at one another, Hermione trying to communicate her frustration with him through pointed glares. The sorting was long and drawn out, and by the time Rupert Zeigler had been sorted into Hufflepuff, Harry was ravenously hungry. Each time Hermione would try to discretely slide the astronomy book back across the table to him Harry would look up at her with a blank expression and say things like, "You know I don't take astronomy."
Naturally, his repeated denial infuriated her. It wasn't just the fact that she was head girl that made her refuse the map, but it was the temptation it posed. The possibility of sneaking out to visit Harry in the dead of night made her insides churn with thoughts and ideas that she was trying to suppress, not reinforce.
The feast ended and the empty platters and tureens vanished into the table as quickly as they had appeared.
McGonagall stood again, draped in heavy black robes, her hat cocked at a sharp right angle, and she held her wand to her throat to amplify her voice across the great hall. "Another delicious feast courtesy of our elves hard at work in the kitchens. First years, you will follow your heads of houses and prefects to your common room. Now I bid you all a prompt good night."
Hermione turned to Harry who was staring at her intently from across the table, "You can't look at me like that Harry," she said sternly.
Harry blinked quickly and looked away running a hand through his hair, "I don't realize I'm doing it."
"Well start to realize," she snapped and she stood quickly grabbing her book off the table and pausing for a moment as she glimpsed the brown parchment peaking out from behind the back cover.
"Are you going to throw it at me?" Harry asked sarcastically and Hermione shot him a look as she reluctantly folded the book under her arm. She saw Neville nervously trying to catch her attention as a swarm of first years had surrounded him and were bombarding him with questions.
She nodded to him and turned her attention back to Harry, "I have to go." She paused for a moment and asked hesitantly, "are you going to be okay?"
Harry's brow furrowed slightly.
"I just, I know coming back here wasn't… it can't have been easy for you."
"I'm fine Hermione," his tone was colder than it had been throughout dinner and he stood up abruptly. Stepping out from behind the bench he shoved his hands in his pockets and breathed out a quick goodbye. "See you around."
He sidled quickly out of the Great Hall and down the steps grateful for the feel of the cool night air against his skin. He pulled absently at his tie and ran a hand vigorously through his hair as if trying to get the feel of the school off him. She knew him too well. Knew how suffocating being back would feel to him. He wasn't even sure why he came back. He had instantly gravitated towards her, less than 24 hours after they had agreed to stay away from one another. In his preoccupied agitation he didn't hear the footsteps creeping up behind him.
"Oy, Harry."
He spun around to see Ron standing at the edge of the steps.
"So you're talking to me?" Harry asked uncertainly.
Ron shrugged once and crossed his arms stubbornly across his chest. "Dunno."
Harry scratched at the back of his neck and was about to speak when Ron blurted out, "What were you talking to Hermione about?"
"What?"
"Do you know who she was with?" Ron said this quickly as if he were ashamed to ask. "You two have clearly been in touch."
Harry's stomach nearly sank to the bottom of his shoes and he hesitated before mumbling, "I can't talk to you about this…"
Ron pressed forward pinching the bridge of his nose, "Just… is she still with him? You know Harry I can see it on your face."
"She's… not," and as Harry admitted this pain shot through his chest like a bullet. "They aren't together, but Ron I can't talk to you about this. She's still my friend…"
Ron looked frustrated at this and he turned to go. "Good to know you're still her friend."
"Ron!" Harry called after him, "I'm sorry!"
Ron spun around his eyes blazing and he advanced on Harry suddenly, "Do you know how much trouble my mum went to for your birthday? How much trouble we all went to? You spent the entire day in a bloody daze and then you left for a month without a word. Not to mention the six weeks before that AND the six weeks before that. You ditched me and my family for the entire summer and then you send a pathetic letter telling me you've got this grand plan of returning to Hogwarts and you'd love to catch up. CATCH UP! As if we didn't just fight a bloody war together…" Ron trailed off eyes downcast.
"I don't know what to say," Harry spoke softly, "other than I'm sorry."
Ron held his arms out, "You ditched me without even a thought! First my best friend, then my girlfriend…"
"LIKE THE WAY YOU LEFT US!?" Harry yelled this with an anger he hadn't known he possessed. The reveal of this resentment startled them both and Ron stared at him in complete shock.
It was like ice cracking on a frozen lake, the wedge in their friendship. It had started when they were younger. Resentments and envy, bubbling up into little fires, that eventually caught. Ron had left them in the midst of a war and Harry had betrayed him once it had ended.
He put his hands behind his head as Ron trudged angrily into the castle slamming the door behind him. Harry breathed in through his nose and out through his mouth, grinding his teeth as he began the trip back to Hogsmeade trying his very best to block out the memories that pierced him like daggers.