A/N: Thanks to all the people who've reviewed my story so far. I think you
already know what's going to happen in this chapter, but don't worry. This
story is going to be far from predictable. I'm planning some twists in the
succeeding chapters so keep reading it. Thanks again, people!
CHAPTER 1:
Harry almost broke the door to the apartment as he came scrambling in. "Ron!" he called out, hastily hanging his coat on the rack. "Ron! Are you home yet?"
A tired-looking Ron Weasley lifted his head from the couch where he fell asleep. "Can you make any more noise, Harry? I don't think the wizards in Ireland heard you," he grumbled, scratching his head and yawning.
Harry ignored his friend and sat down on the armchair opposite the couch. "Ron, I've got news. Hermione's coming home."
"What?"
"Hermione. She's returning from wherever she was in the past four years. I'm finally going to see her again..."
"Wait a minute," Ron said, holding his right hand out to stop Harry's babbling. "How did you know Hermione was coming home?" His blue eyes glazed and his jaw dropped slightly. "You haven't been going through my post, have you?"
"What? No, of course not, Ron. I know better than to do that. I just came from the Grangers. Her dad told me that she was coming home this weekend." Harry had a huge smile on his face. "She's coming back, Ron. I'll finally be able to tell her..." He paused. He's never admitted loving Hermione to Ron before.
"Tell her what, Harry?"
"To tell her that I love her, Ron." There. He had said it. And it felt good.
But Ron's eyes were quite downcast. "Well, I'm sure she wouldn't mind hearing that from you."
Harry eyed his best friend. "What do you mean by that? Doesn't she ever ask about me in her letters?"
/That's right, Potter. That didn't sound conceited at all,/ he thought to himself sarcastically.
"She did, several times in her earlier letters. But now, she hardly asks about you at all. It was basic stuff before like, how you were, if you were still with Diana and Quidditch. In her letters last year and this year's, she doesn't ask anything about you at all. Which is kind of odd when you think about it."
"You did tell her that I didn't have a girlfriend after she left?" Harry asked slowly.
"I told her that you didn't have a girlfriend, but you were going out with some girls."
"How could you tell her that?" Harry demanded.
"'Cause it's the truth, Harry! I can't lie to Hermione. You know that girl, she knows everything."
"Anything else I should know before I see her again?"
"What do you mean see her again?" Ron breathed nervously. Hermione had specifically told him in her last letter that Harry is NOT to be told of her arrival.
Harry looked at Ron as if he was completely clueless. "I've waited for her for four years, Ron. Don't you think that I'd like to see her again? Especially now that I have something very important to tell her."
"It's not that I don't approve of your going to see her, Harry. But think about it first. In the first place, the reason why she left was because she wanted to get over you. Don't you think you'll be confusing her if you came to see her now?"
Ron stood up and walked towards his room. "I'm not stopping you from going to see her this weekend, Harry. If you want, we could even go together. But if she wanted to see you, then she wouldn't tell me not to tell you that she was coming home." He nudged his head to the letter that was lying on the coffee table. "'Night."
Harry sat down on the couch that Ron had just vacated and opened the piece of parchment. It made him ache inside, just seeing her neat cursive handwriting:
*Ron,
This will be my last letter to you. As of this weekend, I'm finally free to go home. I'm sorry I wasn't able to invite you to the graduation but I didn't want to bother you with coming all the way to Cambridge.
/Cambridge? What's she doing in Cambridge?/
Anyway, my parents are as pleased as punch with my grades and my homecoming, and we're celebrating this weekend. Mum's going to cook a fancy dinner and everything, and I'd like you to come. I also have a little surprise for all of you.
It's a surprise, Ron. Even my parents don't know, so don't owl me right back to ask what it is. I'm guessing that surprised won't be the word that comes to mind when you see the 'surprise,' but shocked. Dad would be delighted. Maybe.
Can't wait to see you again. I've missed you so much. See you on Saturday.
Hermione.
P.S. Would you mind not telling Harry that I'm coming home? I've yet to think of what to say when I do see him. Thanks.*
Harry reread the letter again before folding it up and placing it back on the table. Hermione didn't want to see him, that much was painfully obvious. But surely, she would have given the same instructions to her parents, wouldn't she?
/But she doesn't know that you're at her parents' house every weekend, waiting for any word from her. She wouldn't expect her dad to tell you that she was coming home. /
/But then again, she is going to see you eventually. She even says it in her letter that she's thinking of what to say to you when you do meet - eventually. So, that means she does want to see you, just not now./
/When then?/
Harry let out a deep sigh and leaned back into the couch. As far as he was concerned, he was going to see her this weekend. Mr. Granger had told him on no uncertain terms that she was coming home. That meant that he wanted Harry to be there when Hermione arrived. And he could always say that he was acting on what Mr. Granger told him, right?
Another sigh escaped his lips. Even in his brain it didn't sound right.
~ * ~ * ~ * ~
I took in the more-than-familiar sight of the street before it led to my driveway. This was home. Well, Cambridge was my home for the last four years but this - the red roof, the white exterior and the homey sign on the front door - this was home. I could recall so many neighbors' birthday parties and block soirées and Halloween trick-or-treating. I could still see the walk in front of the old Martin's house where I got my first bruise from riding a bicycle. The jungle of wildflowers that extended from Mrs. Woodhouse's flower box, over her wall to the neighbor's wall. The little gnome statues that stood guard over the Hodgkins' lawn.
I laughed to myself about the gnomes, remembering the de-gnoming at Ron's house. And thinking about the de-gnoming made me think about Ron who, in turn, made me think of Harry.
I know it was rude of me to even ask Ron not to tell Harry that I was coming home. But I couldn't face him now - not with the surprise I was planning to spring on my parents and Ron today. I spent the last four years devoiding myself of any feelings I might have for him. I tried to block out every happy memory we've ever had, in hopes that I would also be able to squash these damned feelings out of me. It worked - a little bit. Last night, just before I went to sleep, I thought that if I had to face Harry now, I'd be able to keep a straight face.
Besides, I don't think Dad would be real keen on having Harry. I'm twenty- one and he still protects me a little too much.
The little white VW Beetle that I had gotten from my parents when I left Hogwarts stopped right in front of my house. I felt the corner of my eyes tear up and I had never realized how much I've missed my home and my family until that moment.
"Hermione!" Dad rushed out of the house, calling my name. I jumped out from my seat and ran over to him, my arms outstretched.
"Daddy!" I cried, enveloping him in a warm embrace. An embrace that I had never felt since I was a little girl, and boy, did I miss it.
"I'm so glad you're finally home," Dad whispered in my hair.
"Yeah," I murmured. "It's been too long."
Dad pulled away from me and gave me a long look. "You've grown up so much, Hermione. I hardly recognize you anymore."
I gave my dad a little josh on the arm. "Oh, stop, no I haven't," I kidded, but I knew I have changed. I had grown taller in four years and the rest of my body accorded themselves with my newfound height. I was more slender (and damn proud of my legs, thank you very much) and actually had a chest now to speak of. I liked my mouth a little because I thought it was quite pouty and can produce a nice smile on occasion. My eyes were still a little glazed from all that studying in Cambridge, but the best students have no rest. My hair tamed a bit, going from extremely wild and frizzy to sophisticated waves and curled locks that fell delicately to frame my face. I had received my fair share of admirers from Cambridge. Granted, I was no supermodel but the attention was quite flattering. Yet, I spent my first year there thinking of only one pair of emerald green eyes and one dreamy, heart-wrenching smile. Harry's. I shook the image out of my head. This was *no* time to be thinking of Harry.
Dad was still looking me over and shaking his head in mock disbelief. "I think I'd have to install new locks on the door when every bloke in London sees you," he teased. I laughed at his joke.
"Hermione!" I heard Mum yell from behind Dad. She ran up from the front door, in her pristine white apron and her brown hair tied in a bun behind her head. I released Dad and opened my arms to her.
"Mum!" I breathed, unable to contain the tears that had strolled down my cheeks. "I've missed you so much."
"I've missed you terribly, honey," Mum told me, smoothing my hair. "You've grown up a lot, hasn't she, darling?" she asked Dad.
"I was just telling her that," he replied, his hands folded across his chest. Then, he looked up and glanced past me. "Hello," he said. "Who are you?"
I let go of Mum and turned around. Behind me stood the most perfect gentleman at Cambridge, possibly in all of London. He was quite handsome, most of the girls at school fancied him, with his tousled, sand-blond hair and piercing green eyes. His eyes were nowhere near as emerald and as captivating as Harry's and I am embarrassed to admit that part of the reason why I was attracted to him was because his eyes reminded me of Harry's. He was fairly well-built, being Captain of the football team and he towered over me with a good 6'4" (against my 5'8" frame). He had graduated alongside me with a medical degree in surgery and he was quite well-off. Women swooned over his perfect manners and boyish appeal and men envied him for his money, charm and intelligence. And he had asked me out first, in my second year. Since then, we were inseparable.
"David Callaway, sir. Pleased to meet you, Mr. Granger, Mrs. Granger," he said politely, extending his hand to meet my dad's in a firm handshake. "I'm..."
"Is Ron here already?" I interrupted David. If I was going to make an announcement, I'd rather make it in one action and not two. Then I noticed that Mum's eyes met Dad's in a gaze that was always familiar to me, like they were hiding something.
"'Mione, I'll just get your stuff from the car and bring them in. Why don't you and your parents go on inside? I'm sure you'd like to see home again," David said, putting a light hand on my shoulder.
I nodded and walked toward the front door. They were definitely hiding something from me. The questions is, what?
"Did you redecorate the whole house and not tell me?" I asked them, stepping over the front door.
"No," Dad replied cautiously, a little too cautiously I noted.
"Is Mum pregnant and you don't know how to tell me?" Mum managed a smile.
"No, dear. But there's something in the house that you might be a little surprised to see," she said.
I grinned. "Whatever it is, Mum, I'm pretty sure nothing will surprise me more than my surprise is to you," I replied, turning my back to them and facing the living room.
I take it back. Their surprise wasn't at all what I expected.
"Hello, Hermione," Harry said breathlessly, his eyes gazing deeply into mine. "It's been a long time."
Ron stood beside him, silently mouthing an apology but I ignored him. "Harry," I whispered tentatively. All the memories and feelings that I had shut out of my soul long ago resurfaced and I was shaking inside. "What are you doing here?"
Harry took a step toward me. I could feel his hand reach out, then close in on my right hand, his finger grazing my skin lightly. "I...I wanted to see you. I've missed you and I've got something very important to tell you, Hermione," he said my name in a whisper.
"Harry, please..."
"Where do you want me to place these, 'Mione?" David's voice interrupted. Ron looked at David, his mouth agape. Harry looked from me to him then to me again. Mum and Dad stood by the front door. I gently pulled my hand away from Harry's grasp.
"Everyone, this is David Callaway." I paused and looked at Harry tentatively. "My fianceé."
CHAPTER 1:
Harry almost broke the door to the apartment as he came scrambling in. "Ron!" he called out, hastily hanging his coat on the rack. "Ron! Are you home yet?"
A tired-looking Ron Weasley lifted his head from the couch where he fell asleep. "Can you make any more noise, Harry? I don't think the wizards in Ireland heard you," he grumbled, scratching his head and yawning.
Harry ignored his friend and sat down on the armchair opposite the couch. "Ron, I've got news. Hermione's coming home."
"What?"
"Hermione. She's returning from wherever she was in the past four years. I'm finally going to see her again..."
"Wait a minute," Ron said, holding his right hand out to stop Harry's babbling. "How did you know Hermione was coming home?" His blue eyes glazed and his jaw dropped slightly. "You haven't been going through my post, have you?"
"What? No, of course not, Ron. I know better than to do that. I just came from the Grangers. Her dad told me that she was coming home this weekend." Harry had a huge smile on his face. "She's coming back, Ron. I'll finally be able to tell her..." He paused. He's never admitted loving Hermione to Ron before.
"Tell her what, Harry?"
"To tell her that I love her, Ron." There. He had said it. And it felt good.
But Ron's eyes were quite downcast. "Well, I'm sure she wouldn't mind hearing that from you."
Harry eyed his best friend. "What do you mean by that? Doesn't she ever ask about me in her letters?"
/That's right, Potter. That didn't sound conceited at all,/ he thought to himself sarcastically.
"She did, several times in her earlier letters. But now, she hardly asks about you at all. It was basic stuff before like, how you were, if you were still with Diana and Quidditch. In her letters last year and this year's, she doesn't ask anything about you at all. Which is kind of odd when you think about it."
"You did tell her that I didn't have a girlfriend after she left?" Harry asked slowly.
"I told her that you didn't have a girlfriend, but you were going out with some girls."
"How could you tell her that?" Harry demanded.
"'Cause it's the truth, Harry! I can't lie to Hermione. You know that girl, she knows everything."
"Anything else I should know before I see her again?"
"What do you mean see her again?" Ron breathed nervously. Hermione had specifically told him in her last letter that Harry is NOT to be told of her arrival.
Harry looked at Ron as if he was completely clueless. "I've waited for her for four years, Ron. Don't you think that I'd like to see her again? Especially now that I have something very important to tell her."
"It's not that I don't approve of your going to see her, Harry. But think about it first. In the first place, the reason why she left was because she wanted to get over you. Don't you think you'll be confusing her if you came to see her now?"
Ron stood up and walked towards his room. "I'm not stopping you from going to see her this weekend, Harry. If you want, we could even go together. But if she wanted to see you, then she wouldn't tell me not to tell you that she was coming home." He nudged his head to the letter that was lying on the coffee table. "'Night."
Harry sat down on the couch that Ron had just vacated and opened the piece of parchment. It made him ache inside, just seeing her neat cursive handwriting:
*Ron,
This will be my last letter to you. As of this weekend, I'm finally free to go home. I'm sorry I wasn't able to invite you to the graduation but I didn't want to bother you with coming all the way to Cambridge.
/Cambridge? What's she doing in Cambridge?/
Anyway, my parents are as pleased as punch with my grades and my homecoming, and we're celebrating this weekend. Mum's going to cook a fancy dinner and everything, and I'd like you to come. I also have a little surprise for all of you.
It's a surprise, Ron. Even my parents don't know, so don't owl me right back to ask what it is. I'm guessing that surprised won't be the word that comes to mind when you see the 'surprise,' but shocked. Dad would be delighted. Maybe.
Can't wait to see you again. I've missed you so much. See you on Saturday.
Hermione.
P.S. Would you mind not telling Harry that I'm coming home? I've yet to think of what to say when I do see him. Thanks.*
Harry reread the letter again before folding it up and placing it back on the table. Hermione didn't want to see him, that much was painfully obvious. But surely, she would have given the same instructions to her parents, wouldn't she?
/But she doesn't know that you're at her parents' house every weekend, waiting for any word from her. She wouldn't expect her dad to tell you that she was coming home. /
/But then again, she is going to see you eventually. She even says it in her letter that she's thinking of what to say to you when you do meet - eventually. So, that means she does want to see you, just not now./
/When then?/
Harry let out a deep sigh and leaned back into the couch. As far as he was concerned, he was going to see her this weekend. Mr. Granger had told him on no uncertain terms that she was coming home. That meant that he wanted Harry to be there when Hermione arrived. And he could always say that he was acting on what Mr. Granger told him, right?
Another sigh escaped his lips. Even in his brain it didn't sound right.
~ * ~ * ~ * ~
I took in the more-than-familiar sight of the street before it led to my driveway. This was home. Well, Cambridge was my home for the last four years but this - the red roof, the white exterior and the homey sign on the front door - this was home. I could recall so many neighbors' birthday parties and block soirées and Halloween trick-or-treating. I could still see the walk in front of the old Martin's house where I got my first bruise from riding a bicycle. The jungle of wildflowers that extended from Mrs. Woodhouse's flower box, over her wall to the neighbor's wall. The little gnome statues that stood guard over the Hodgkins' lawn.
I laughed to myself about the gnomes, remembering the de-gnoming at Ron's house. And thinking about the de-gnoming made me think about Ron who, in turn, made me think of Harry.
I know it was rude of me to even ask Ron not to tell Harry that I was coming home. But I couldn't face him now - not with the surprise I was planning to spring on my parents and Ron today. I spent the last four years devoiding myself of any feelings I might have for him. I tried to block out every happy memory we've ever had, in hopes that I would also be able to squash these damned feelings out of me. It worked - a little bit. Last night, just before I went to sleep, I thought that if I had to face Harry now, I'd be able to keep a straight face.
Besides, I don't think Dad would be real keen on having Harry. I'm twenty- one and he still protects me a little too much.
The little white VW Beetle that I had gotten from my parents when I left Hogwarts stopped right in front of my house. I felt the corner of my eyes tear up and I had never realized how much I've missed my home and my family until that moment.
"Hermione!" Dad rushed out of the house, calling my name. I jumped out from my seat and ran over to him, my arms outstretched.
"Daddy!" I cried, enveloping him in a warm embrace. An embrace that I had never felt since I was a little girl, and boy, did I miss it.
"I'm so glad you're finally home," Dad whispered in my hair.
"Yeah," I murmured. "It's been too long."
Dad pulled away from me and gave me a long look. "You've grown up so much, Hermione. I hardly recognize you anymore."
I gave my dad a little josh on the arm. "Oh, stop, no I haven't," I kidded, but I knew I have changed. I had grown taller in four years and the rest of my body accorded themselves with my newfound height. I was more slender (and damn proud of my legs, thank you very much) and actually had a chest now to speak of. I liked my mouth a little because I thought it was quite pouty and can produce a nice smile on occasion. My eyes were still a little glazed from all that studying in Cambridge, but the best students have no rest. My hair tamed a bit, going from extremely wild and frizzy to sophisticated waves and curled locks that fell delicately to frame my face. I had received my fair share of admirers from Cambridge. Granted, I was no supermodel but the attention was quite flattering. Yet, I spent my first year there thinking of only one pair of emerald green eyes and one dreamy, heart-wrenching smile. Harry's. I shook the image out of my head. This was *no* time to be thinking of Harry.
Dad was still looking me over and shaking his head in mock disbelief. "I think I'd have to install new locks on the door when every bloke in London sees you," he teased. I laughed at his joke.
"Hermione!" I heard Mum yell from behind Dad. She ran up from the front door, in her pristine white apron and her brown hair tied in a bun behind her head. I released Dad and opened my arms to her.
"Mum!" I breathed, unable to contain the tears that had strolled down my cheeks. "I've missed you so much."
"I've missed you terribly, honey," Mum told me, smoothing my hair. "You've grown up a lot, hasn't she, darling?" she asked Dad.
"I was just telling her that," he replied, his hands folded across his chest. Then, he looked up and glanced past me. "Hello," he said. "Who are you?"
I let go of Mum and turned around. Behind me stood the most perfect gentleman at Cambridge, possibly in all of London. He was quite handsome, most of the girls at school fancied him, with his tousled, sand-blond hair and piercing green eyes. His eyes were nowhere near as emerald and as captivating as Harry's and I am embarrassed to admit that part of the reason why I was attracted to him was because his eyes reminded me of Harry's. He was fairly well-built, being Captain of the football team and he towered over me with a good 6'4" (against my 5'8" frame). He had graduated alongside me with a medical degree in surgery and he was quite well-off. Women swooned over his perfect manners and boyish appeal and men envied him for his money, charm and intelligence. And he had asked me out first, in my second year. Since then, we were inseparable.
"David Callaway, sir. Pleased to meet you, Mr. Granger, Mrs. Granger," he said politely, extending his hand to meet my dad's in a firm handshake. "I'm..."
"Is Ron here already?" I interrupted David. If I was going to make an announcement, I'd rather make it in one action and not two. Then I noticed that Mum's eyes met Dad's in a gaze that was always familiar to me, like they were hiding something.
"'Mione, I'll just get your stuff from the car and bring them in. Why don't you and your parents go on inside? I'm sure you'd like to see home again," David said, putting a light hand on my shoulder.
I nodded and walked toward the front door. They were definitely hiding something from me. The questions is, what?
"Did you redecorate the whole house and not tell me?" I asked them, stepping over the front door.
"No," Dad replied cautiously, a little too cautiously I noted.
"Is Mum pregnant and you don't know how to tell me?" Mum managed a smile.
"No, dear. But there's something in the house that you might be a little surprised to see," she said.
I grinned. "Whatever it is, Mum, I'm pretty sure nothing will surprise me more than my surprise is to you," I replied, turning my back to them and facing the living room.
I take it back. Their surprise wasn't at all what I expected.
"Hello, Hermione," Harry said breathlessly, his eyes gazing deeply into mine. "It's been a long time."
Ron stood beside him, silently mouthing an apology but I ignored him. "Harry," I whispered tentatively. All the memories and feelings that I had shut out of my soul long ago resurfaced and I was shaking inside. "What are you doing here?"
Harry took a step toward me. I could feel his hand reach out, then close in on my right hand, his finger grazing my skin lightly. "I...I wanted to see you. I've missed you and I've got something very important to tell you, Hermione," he said my name in a whisper.
"Harry, please..."
"Where do you want me to place these, 'Mione?" David's voice interrupted. Ron looked at David, his mouth agape. Harry looked from me to him then to me again. Mum and Dad stood by the front door. I gently pulled my hand away from Harry's grasp.
"Everyone, this is David Callaway." I paused and looked at Harry tentatively. "My fianceé."