*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
" I'm so tired of being here Suppressed by all of my childish fearsAnd if you have to leave
I wish that you would just leave
Because your presence still lingers here
And it won't leave me alone
These wounds won't seem to healThis pain is just too real
There's just too much that time cannot erase
When you cried I'd wipe away all of your tears
When you'd scream I'd fight away all of your fears
And I've held you hand through all of these years
But you still have all of me
You used to captivate me
By your resonating light
But now I'm bound by the life you left behind
Your face it haunts my once pleasant dreams
Your voice it chased away all the sanity in me
I've tried so hard to tell myself that you're gone
And though you're still with me
I've been alone all along."
'My Immortal' Evanescence*~*~*~*~*~*
Hermione slowly made her way into the large shop, having been expanded by magic five years prior, located on Ninety-Three Diagon Alley. She smiled at a group of young children excitedly chattering over a large display of Skiving Snack boxes. Hermione made her way past the children and towards the checkout desk, which was located near the back of the expansive shop.
"Hello there Hermione!" a familiar voice rang from behind the counter. She shoved her hands in the pockets of her torn jeans, before approaching the desk. She grinned at the red-headed men behind the counter.
"Hello Fred." She smiled, Fred grinned at her before returning his attention to a large display of what appeared to be quills.
"Weasley's Wizard Wheezes are selling quills?" Hermione exclaimed in a mock astonished tone. Fred adverted his eyes from the display momentarily, before whipping it around revealing a large sign; Quacky Quills.
"Hermione, feast your eyes on the newest product fresh from the minds of Fred and George Weasley. You see, they look like what sort of sweet confectionary treat?" Fred paused in expectation of the ginger-haired woman's reply, but quickly continued when Hermione remained silent, slightly shaking from suppressed giggles. "Sugar quills! They work just like Sugar Quills, but of course, they are quacky! There's ridiculously amusing charms at the end of them, care to try one?" he asked, shoving a Quacky Quill in her face. Hermione smiled at him, before gently pushing the quill back down on the counter.
"No thanks Fred," Hermione paused, attempting to peer behind Fred and into the back of the shop.
"So what brings you by here on a Saturday?" Fred asked her as he put the Quacky Quill back into his proper place on the display. Hermione smiled at him again, she could feel a strange sense of pride to see how far Fred and George have progressed with their joke shop. Despite Mrs. Weasley's misgivings about the situation, it had rewarded Fred and George quite lavishly. By the end of the shop's third year, the twins had managed to purchase themselves neighboring flats near Muggle London. However, not only was the business lucrative it was booming, the twins had just opened there fifth shop in Milan, Italy.
"To pick up George so we can go meet Harry and Ron." Hermione replied, her hands still in her pockets. "Where is he by the way?" she asked, She could feel her stomach tighten into yet another knot, she hadn't seen Harry or Ron since her wedding three months prior. However, the thought of George being by her side made the potential confrontation less daunting then it really was. Hermione hesitantly pulled her hands out of her pockets to wipe off the beads of sweat on her palms. Fred watched her dark brown eyes linger to the door behind him, he heaved a heavy sigh before speaking.
"You just missed him. Ron came by and…" Fred's voice trailed off, but Hermione quickly finished his sentence for her, "They had a row, they both stormed off" She muttered. Hermione could feel her face flush a bright shade of red, she hated even thinking that she had caused Ron and George to fight one another. Hermione sighed, not bothering to ask Fred what the row was about.
"Well," Hermione sighed, "He probably went home. I should get going," she murmured. Fred flashed her a strange sympathetic look before giving her a small wave. Hermione turned on her heel, the children investigating the Skiving Snack boxes had long disappeared. Hermione stepped out onto the bustling streets of Diagon Alley, it was late February, and the crowded shopping haven had just settled down from the holiday seasons and Valentines day. Hermione haphazardly pulled up her jacket back onto her shoulders, which had fallen precariously off her arms, she had chosen not to wear robes for Harry wanted to meet her at a small Muggle café not far from the Leaky Cauldron in Muggle London.
Hermione ran a hand through her curly brown hair, before biting her lip, as she drifted into her own thoughts. She understood why Ron was so upset about her relationship with George, but she still couldn't bring herself to realize how much pain she caused him. She wasn't even sure how she had fallen head over heels for George, but the act was done, she was now his wife.
Hermione's life after Hogwarts had not been the easiest after her sixth year at Hogwarts. She returned to Hogwarts for her seventh year, more submissive and quiet then she ever had been. She graduated alongside Harry and Ron, her best friends. However, as Harry and her grew apart from each other, Hermione had grown close to Ron as their relationship slowly began to change.
Lord Voldemort was a lingering presence in the wizarding community. Hogwarts was turned upside down, many parents had refused to send their children back to the school, afraid of the dangers that remained there, even under Albus Dumbledore's protective eyes.
Along with this hidden threat came Harry's isolation from Hermione and Ron. He had went out of his way to be alone, and he single handedly carried the weight of all his frustrations for he held too much pride to relieve himself by talking about them and opening up to someone. As the years passed, Hermione watched Harry grow distant, but she never really noticed it at the time. She was blinded, for her head was in the clouds, and her heart was wide open, in Ron's hands.
She wasn't sure how she and Ron's relationship came about but it happened slowly. Hermione had kept her heart under lock and key for almost two years after the haunting night on the Astronomy tower. Meanwhile, her relationship with him was constantly changing, they fought less, and she seemed to spend more time with him. At the time, she never really wanted to admit to herself that talking to Harry was no longer comforting, it was stressful. She couldn't deal with anymore, all her senses and her emotions had been on overdrive for too long, she needed a rest and Ron was her rest.
"Wotcher!" a burly dingy looking wizard exclaimed when Hermione slammed into him, bumping her out of her meditative thoughts. Hermione opened her mouth to apologize but opted against it as she continued to walk towards the Leaky Cauldron.
Hermione made her way past a crowd of middle-aged wizards talking exuberantly about the Chudley Cannon's winning streak. Ten years prior, the team had gone decades without winning, but since the second war had calmed, the team had taken a strong turn around. Some people believe it was bound to happen, but Hermione personally liked to think it was because of the team's new owner, Ron. Hermione could feel a smile creep across her face as she remembered the day Ron had told her the great news. He told her how Roman Hearse, the past owner of the Chudley Canons, whom Ron had befriended at his job in the Ministry's Department of Games and Sports, was finally fed up with the team's losing streak, and handed the reigns to him. Reaction to the new owner of the Chudley Cannons were mixed, some people were happy that the team was going to receive new management. However, other people, were silently hoping for the youngest male Weasley to fail.
Hermione quietly hit the bricks in the alley mindlessly as she stepped out onto Charing Cross Road. Hermione suddenly shivered as she felt the temperature drop a few degrees. The ginger-haired woman pulled up her jacket again, silently reminding herself to buy another jacket in smaller size.
She finally reached the small café after twenty minutes of slow walking, and heavy contemplating. She suddenly was becoming uncomfortable, not sure how to act or feel. Should she be happy that she was seeing her best friend, Harry Potter, after months of him being abroad? Should she avoid the subject of Ron not being there? Was he going to ask her if she had lost her mind marrying George Weasley? Hermione bit her lip cautiously as she recalled Harry's face on her wedding day; it was far from a happy one, yet it wasn't angry, it was blank, and empty. She could feel herself breathe another heavy sigh as she pushed open the glass door of LeBovers Café, the warm air causing her cheeks to flush slightly, the sweet smell of roasting coffee filing her lungs. Hermione forgot all of her doubts when she saw him, she could feel her heart grow warm.
Harry Potter was seated lazily in the corner of the café wearing baggy jeans and a sweatshirt. His hair was considerably longer than Hermione had remembered, and his face still carried the same stony expression. She walked over to him, and outspread her arms.
"Hello there." Harry said softly, he stood up slowly with arms outstretched, Hermione too excited to notice how unwillingly he had done this. Hermione gave him a tight hug before finally releasing him and sitting back down. Harry flashed her a small smile, that strangely appeared to Hermione as a wince instead of a grin. Harry picked up the small foam cup before him, taking a slow sip, the steam escaping from the beverage fogging up his wire-rimmed glasses.
"Harry, it's so good to see you." She said to him heartily. A small woman wearing a dark green apron approached the table before Hermione had the chance to say anything else.
"What can I get for you today ma'am?" she asked her, Hermione sat down across from Harry, who the waitress had already served, before turning back to the waitress. The girl rolled her eyes, "What can I get for you?" She obnoxiously asked again, nosily cracking her gum in the middle of the sentence. Hermione slowly placed her left hand on the back of her neck, a strange habit she had picked up over the years.
"I'll just have a cup of joe." Hermione said energetically, ignore the waitress' impatience, suddenly feeling excited to be facing Harry after three months apart. The bright brown haired waitress stared at her a moment, a strange expression on her face, before she quickly scribbled down Hermione's order and walked away. Hermione turned back to Harry, a mad grin plastered onto her face.
"How have you been ol' Harry?" she asked. Harry stared at her, she looked at his eyes, something had changed about them. Harry lowered his head as if he hadn't heard her question.
"Where's George?" Harry asked stoically, her fingers tracing the rim of his Styrofoam cup. Hermione could feel the grin on her face instantly vanish.
"Where's Ron?" she snapped back. Harry looked up at her, his fingers still running circles around the rim of his cup. Hermione could feel her body instantly tense up, slightly feeling a pang of guilt for wanting nothing more than George's hand wrapped protectively around her's. Harry rolled his eyes before lifting his steaming hot beverage to his lips. Hermione looked around uncomfortably, desperately scanning the confines of her mind to come up with a topic of conversation that would not upset Harry.
"I'm sorry Harry. I know your upset with me, and you feel that I made the wrong choice, but I love George. So please, can you and I sit down and talk to each other, I mean really talk?" Hermione finished her sentence feeling slightly winded, she looked up at Harry. Harry opened his mouth to speak, but the teenaged waitress plodded back to the table, and with a loud crack placed a foam cup in front of her. Hermione looked back up at Harry; he was seething.
"About? I can't sit here and pretend like I'm not upset with you." Harry replied hastily. Hermione grumbled to herself as she reached for the creamer resting besides Harry's clenched fist. She always had known Harry and Ron would always stick together, but there was nothing she hated more than to have them sticking together against her. She sighed, wishing that Ron and George were there. Allowing her to explain herself, exactly as she had countless times before. Ron had hurt her, and she felt she couldn't go on again, for love only seemed to mean hurt to her. However, when George slowly emerged as an important figure in her life, for the first time in a decade, love made her laugh not cry. He made her smile, not frown, and her made her heart swell instead of throb. Why couldn't the men that she called her best friends understand that she loved the way he made her feel. She never knew following her heart would also mean losing her friends.
Hermione bit her lip, struggling to fight back tears, Hermione silently reminded herself to tell off George about not showing up, leaving her facing an upset Harry alone. Hermione let out a loud sigh, before quickly changing the subject.
"How was your trip? Romania right?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper, she was still resisting the urge to burst into tears.
"I caught one." Harry replied blandly. Hermione could feel all the muscles in her body tighten at once, she knew of what kind of person Harry was speaking of. Hermione worked at the Ministry Magic. She was in charge of employing Hit Wizards to track common criminals. Everyday to get to her medium sized office on Level Two, Hermione would walk past the Ministry's Auror headquarters. Ever since the appointment of a new Minister of Magic, Kingsley Shacklebolt , the headquarters had doubled in size, including the number of Aurors. Hermione could clearly remember her last year of Hogwarts, everyone was on edge and living in fear, and it was Kingsley Shacklebolt's goal to change that. As Voldemort's league of loyal devotees, Deatheaters, grew, so did his power. Muggles and Wizards alike were being murdered, and everything was in an uproar, when it happened. The Boy Who Lived, and the Dark Lord himself had met face to face in the small village of Godric's Hollow, the same place where Harry had received his lightning shaped scar. There, a battle ensued, the details Harry would never reveal, but he emerged, alive. Ever since that fateful night, the goals of the Ministry had changed, and so had Harry's. On a conjured up wall in the middle of the large and bustling Auror's Headquarters, were exactly nine-hundred and seventy three moving photographs of known Deatheaters from all over the world at large. On the other side were photos of slain or captured Deatheaters. Over the eight years that passed after Lord Voldemort's defeat , the list had dwindled considerably, as Deatheaters were being caught on a daily basis. However Hermione could feel her heart grow heavy Every time she passed that wall, for there were now ten moving pictures there. Draco Malfoy was one of them.
Draco's name sent a shiver down Hermione's spine, he had been lingering in the back of her mind ever since she had awoken. Hermione's heart couldn't help but remember what happened exactly ten years ago, Hermione bit her lip as she looked up at Harry, did he know? She could feel her mind ponder.
"So, A.H. is down to nine now." Hermione said, calling the Auror's Headquarters by it's now honored nickname, she reached out and grabbed her foam cup, taking a large sip of her coffee, trying to get the lump in her throat to dissipate. Harry nodded, his emerald eyes scanning hers as if he was reading her mind.
"Don't you want to know who I caught Hermione?" Harry asked, his voice unusually cold. His fingers were still moving in their familiar circular motions. Hermione wished nothing more for him to stop, for the sight of it was making her nauseous.
"It's not Malfoy, if that's what you were wondering." He snapped callously. Hermione could feel her stomach jump violently at the mention of his name, she covered her mouth, fighting the urge to vomit all over the table. Why was Harry doing this to her?
"I've been tracking Bellatrix Lestrange for a year now." Harry paused, "I found her in Romania," his voice trailed off as his eyes suddenly went blank again. "Same village where Tonks almost nabbed Malfoy eight years ago, vermin tend to gather together, don't they?" he asked callously. She lowered her head, her eyes and heart stinging slightly, her pride had been bruised. She had remained silent over the years about Draco. The entire wizarding world, including Harry, George, and Ron, considered Malfoy a murderer, a criminal, and a loyal follower of Lord Voldemort. Harry had made a strange development during their eventful sixth year at Hogwarts, he was beginning to realize that Draco too was a person, with feelings, and wants, and needs. After his disappearance, Harry's mentality, along with everyone else's seemed to fall back in time. To them, Draco was nothing more than a Deatheater, another picture on the wall, and another picture away from complete victory. Hermione kept her hand over her mouth, suddenly losing her desire for her caffeine fix, and for George to be there by her side, or for her friends to forgive her and move on. She wanted nothing more than to get out of that café, and miles away from Harry. She lowered head, Bellatrix Lestrange was the Deatheater that killed Harry's godfather and mentor.
"So she's in Azkaban?" Hermione asked softly. Harry continued to stare off into the distance, his eyes on nothing in particular, she watched him grit his teeth together as he suppressed his anger yet again. Harry was implosive, a ticking time bomb, his Hogwarts years he had managed to suppress this part of his personality. However after his Auror training, Harry had became cold, hard and calloused. Hermione was often brought to tears, longing for her friend, he was gone.
"I killed her." Harry replied blandly. Hermione blinked twice, and sat up in her seat, praying that she didn't hear Harry say such a thing. She knew perfectly well that killing was disapproved by Kingsley Shacklebolt, and she knew Harry had a vendetta against Bellatrix, however she never imagined that he'd actually murder her.
"Oh Harry…" Hermione moaned as big fight tears rolled down her eyes. Harry continued to stare at her, she almost felt like she was melting under his indifferent gaze.
"Don't even start Hermione." Harry commanded, "I did what I had to do. It was either me or her. Is it wrong to chose me for once 'Mione?" Harry asked, he learned forward until his face was only inches for her. Hermione bowed her head, rubbing at her cheeks, wishing the tears would stop coming, but they continued. "You would know what that's like, always thinking about yourself," Harry spat at her, she could feel the warmth of his breath, and the raw fury emitting from his being. She hadn't realized how upset he was until she looked into his eyes.
"Why won't you just empathize with me for two seconds?" Hermione asked sorrowfully. Harry suddenly backed away, his expression softened for a second, before he snapped right back to a look of fury. Hermione continued, trying to make Harry understand how sorry she was. "We used to understand each other, we supported one another's decisions, and we've been there for each other. Why are we letting something like this tear us apart? What's happened to us Harry?" she asked him. Harry looked around the café hastily before turning to her.
"I just wanted to let you know you've made a big mistake Hermione. You're setting yourself up for disappointment…" Harry's voice trailed off, he looked up at her, both his hands were not clenched into solid fists. "Don't pretend like you don't know. It's the anniversary, Hermione." He mumbled. Hermione could feel her heart leap out, almost out of her chest, for he was the first person to say it out loud. She knew throughout the whole day, she couldn't avoid the stares when she went to the Ministry to get something from her office, for she knew what all of them were thinking. Hermione suddenly felt ashamed that she let her guard down, tears were flowing freely out of her eyes, and the Muggles in the café were slowly turning there eyes to the couple in the corner. Harry leaned forward, and much to Hermione's surprise, grabbed her hand. His touch was no longer soft, it was rough and she noticed a slightly raised scar running from the base of his thumb to the knuckle of his ring finger. Hermione continued to cry, Harry's haunting advice from a decade passed, as he repeated it to her again.
"Don't make the same mistake twice 'Mione." He said, his voice sounding tender for the first time in nearly six years. The last time he had ever spoken to her in such a way, was when Ron had broken up with her. Hermione put her head on a table, as a stifled sob escaped her achy lungs, as she remembered all of the things she had been suppressing for years. The pain she had suppressed after letting her heart give in to Draco's charms, then Sam's short appearance in her life, his death, Draco's disappearance, falling in love with her best friend, Ron Weasley. The frustration she had bottled up after the awful fight she had with Ron after he had learned of Hermione's attempts to reunite him with his brother Percy. The anger from spending almost five years of her life in complete isolation and loneliness as she buried herself into her job, trying to beat all thoughts of how love had ravaged her heart out of her system. She was weeping, releasing all of her fears. The calming feeling of falling in love again had excited her so much, it left her almost blind to her friends' feelings. She could feel Harry's hand on her back, along with the eyes of everyone in the small establishment. Hermione slowly raised her head, Harry looked both ways cautiously as if he was preparing to do something he was not supposed to do. He leaned forward and kissed her cheek, however when Hermione expected him to pull away, he remained by her ear.
"I've found him," he whispered. At first, Hermione could not comprehend the words, she could feel her mind pause, and a strange feeling surface from deep within her, it was a dull ache in the pit of her stomach. Hermione opened her mouth to speak, but nothing emerged. Was he really saying what she thought he was saying? "He has information that the Order needs to find out to track down the last of the Deatheaters." Harry continued. She continued to stay at him, too startled to continue wallowing in her own misery. Harry took a long sip before sitting the Styrofoam back down on the table. He grabbed his beaten leather coat and tossed it lazily across his shoulder.
"I suggest you speak with Ron while I'm gone." Harry said, his warm exterior melted away, as he returned to his blank mood. He walked towards the door, and exited the café, the door clicked shut, as Hermione turned back to her own thoughts. The teenaged waitress walked back to the table, her gum gone.
"Boyfriend being a prat?" the girl asked, Hermione stared at her, before giving her a minute answer.
"I'm married." She muttered. The girl looked at her, putting the bill softly on the table before her.
"I'm sorry, but you can always get a divorce can't you?" she asked rather obnoxiously. Hermione ignored her as she reached inside her jacket pocket and pulled out a few pounds, not bothering to correct her mistake.
Hermione got up and silently left the shop, her thoughts weighing her down as she walked into an abandoned alleyway. She reached into her other pocket containing her wand, and quickly disapparated with a loud pop. Hermione reemerged in the foyer of her and George's home located on the outskirts of London. Hermione threw off her coat and tossed it into the cluttered closet of the foyer. Her shoes quickly followed the jacket as Hermione wiped at her bright red face. She could hear George's voice from the kitchen as he talked in a soft tone. She slowly sauntered into the kitchen, and straight towards the fridge to pull out a bottle of water. She turned to George who had just turned away from the fire.
"Hermione!" he exclaimed, slightly startled by her presence. Hermione stared at George, trying to drudge up slight resentment towards him, but she couldn't do it. All she could think about was what Harry had said. Perhaps her mind was playing tricks on her, or Harry was playing tricks on her, either or, she couldn't accept the fact that Draco could be anywhere. Over the years, she had simply thought of him as a ghost, a shell of his former self, one that she would never want to see. Hermione bit her lip before she took a small sip from her water bottle.
"George, you could've said something to me if you weren't going to come." Hermione muttered, her voice taking on a slightly whiny tone. She continued to stare at George, something was slightly off about him. She noticed he was wearing a crisp white dress shirt, a dark burgundy sweater, and a giant oversized bowtie. His face was slight dingy, specks of ash rested among the small batch of freckles across his cheeks. George's eyes quickly fell from hers onto the black and white linoleum.
"Who were you just talking to?" Hermione asked, her eyes falling onto the fireplace, which was now glowing a pale green. She walked closer to George and sat down at the stool in front of him. His face emitted flushed a dark shade of red.
"I was just talking to Fred," George said stiffly, he quickly turned his body towards her, blocking Hermione's sight of the fireplace. Hermione could hear herself sigh loudly as George approached her, she knew all of his little tendencies, even the strange face he made when he was lying. Too exhausted to wonder why George would lie to her, she bowed her head as George placed both of his hands upon her moist cheeks, his eyes softening as he brushed his lips over hers. Hermione could feel her heart flutter, than fall into her pelvis as she felt a familiar sensation to cry, as a surge of guilt washed over her body, she didn't deserve all of this, she didn't deserve George.
"I'm sorry about not showing up, Ron came by the shop and…" George's voice trailed off, he removed his hands from her face, and wrapped them around her waist protectively. "It's official, he hates me more than Percy." He said in a slightly teasing tone. Hermione could feel tears began to steadily down her cheeks, touched at George's attempt to cheer her.
"He won't even talk to me, and Harry…" Hermione's voice trailed off as she buried her face into George's fuzzy sweater. She could feel his grip around her tighten as she cried, rubbing her back in a slightly maternal way. He was soothing her soul, letting her frustration escape her, instead of inciting it more by inquiring what had happened between Harry and her. Hermione cried for several minutes, her face buried in the endless wool of George's sweater until she finally pulled away, he wiped at her tears and planted a loving kiss on her forehead.
"Better?" he asked her. Hermione nodded wishing he'd embrace her again, but he didn't. He stepped away from her and towards the door of the kitchen.
"Are you going to be okay?" George asked tenderly. Hermione wiped at her face, she wanted nothing more than to jump up and grab onto George and hold on for dear life. However, she was too weak, she nodded, slightly hiccupping as she turned to her water.
"Are you going?" she asked him. George flashed her a small smile as he nodded. Hermione turned away from him, for if she looked again she would cry.
"Yes." He replied, he disappeared from her sight as he walked out of the kitchen. He could hear him fumbling through the entryway closet, and his footsteps through the silent house before walking back into the kitchen, broom in hand.
"Fred and I have some business to take care at the shop in Moscow. I should be back before daybreak." He explained. Hermione stared at him wearily, not even thinking twice, George was often flying back and forth from shop to shop. George flashed her his token smile, his brown eyes shimmering, he gave her a hearty hug before kissing her cheek and stepping back.
"Love you." Hermione whispered, the words seem to flutter out of her mouth, sailing sweetly and landing right on George.
"Love you too. I'll be back." He answered, repeating himself about his return. Hermione nodded and waved at him, not wanting him to go. His grin widened more, it was that smile that helped Hermione keep her composure. It kept her going, it kept her alive. Hermione turned her away from him and towards the fire as she heard the door close with a loud click. She was alone now, and the strange thing to her was; all she could think about was Draco.