Prelude
Four Years After Hogwarts
"So are you going to the ball?"
Harry looked up and realized Hermione was sitting across from him. She'd probably been sitting there a long time. Maybe even talking a long time. Sighing, Harry ran a heavy hand through his hair.
"I'm sorry Hermione, what were you saying?" He tried to focus his eyes on her face.
They were sitting in the Three Broomsticks. It was quite empty. One lone man stood behind the counter, dusting out glasses, shining them to perfection. A soft tune was playing from somewhere upstairs. Outside, the stars were fading as a strip of dawn hazed over the horizon.
Hermione looked both exasperated and sympathetic. "I was wondering whether you'd be attending the ball, you know... Hogwarts is holding one?" She pulled her cloak tighter around her shoulders, watching him carefully.
Harry looked down at the scrubbed wooden table. There was a cup of tea steaming in front of him. He was so tired...
Still slightly unsure of how he'd arrived at the Three Broomsticks in the first place, Harry answered Hermione's question. "Er – no, I don't think I will," his voice rough and quiet.
There was a pause and Harry didn't meet Hermione's eyes.
"Oh, Harry." She pulled his hand into hers. Numbly surprised by this action, Harry sat, staring at her, waiting for her to say something.
For a long moment, she didn't talk. She only looked quietly at him, her hand holding his loosely. Harry didn't have enough energy to pull it away.
"We miss you, you know," she finally murmured. Her eyes were shining with unshed tears. Harry turned back to his tea cup. A trail of steam wafted into the air, curling around them. He didn't speak.
"You never come to do things with us any more..." she said softly, "and you barely even see Ron. I - "
"I've been busy," Harry said finally, meaning to sound defiant, but was annoyed when his voice came out feeble.
"I know," Hermione said sadly, removing her hand from his. "But you've got to understand, Harry. You don't need to be busy. Voldemort is gone and the Death Eaters are either dead, or in Azkaban."
Her voice was loud and calm in Harry's ears, making him feel like something was closing in upon him. He stared at her, in slight disbelief.
"I don't need to be busy?" he said incredulously, "What are you on about? Of course I do! Do you realize that the old Death Eaters could escape at any moment, or - " He sat up straighter, his anger mounting. "Or there might be someone daring to follow in Voldemort's footsteps? Any one of you could be hurt - "
"Harry, do you know how selfish that sounds?"
Harry stopped in mid-sentence and gazed her. "Selfish?"
"Yes, selfish." She fixed Harry with an accusing eye. "You've been acting like this all year, ever since you got out of Auror Training. And I, for one, am sick of you biting my head off. I'm sick of you acting like we're all still in danger, because we're not."
Her words were pounding in Harry's ears. "Look, it's late, Hermione, and you're tired." He stood up to leave.
"Harry, please, sit down," Hermione said, her voice much gentler than before. "I'm sorry I said that, it came out all wrong."
Harry looked around, and noticed the man behind the bar was gone. They were alone. Against his own better judgment, Harry sat back down.
"Now, all I'm saying is - " Hermione started again, but Harry stopped her.
"Do we have to talk about this now?" he asked. His limbs were aching with sudden exhaustion. Hermione looked at him steadily.
"I know you don't want to," she said, "But, who knows when I'll see you again, Harry? You work all the time. And don't interrupt me," she added as Harry opened his mouth. "Listen to me."
She pushed a lock of bushy hair from her face and sighed. "I wish... I wish I didn't have to tell you all this, but I have to. We've all been meaning to... Ron, Ginny... everyone."
At the mention of Ginny, Harry shifted in his seat. Hermione looked back up at him.
"Yes, even Ginny. She does miss you, too... but that's not what I'm talking about."
There was a moment's silence. Dawn was creeping into the room, washing the floor and chairs in golden light. A chilled, frosty sort of air accompanied the light, giving the morning a refreshing, new sort of feel.
Harry didn't like it.
"Tell me something, Harry," Hermione cut across him, watching him. "Do you like working?"
"What? Yes, of course I do!"
She nodded, curling her fingers around her teacup. "Do you like knowing you're helping people?"
Harry felt confused, but slightly wary. "Er – yes, I suppose."
Hermione nodded again. Her busy curls shook in the morning light. "Now tell me something else, " she asked softly, "Do you like work more than your friends... your family?"
Harry shook his head slightly, not believing Hermione was even asking him that. "No, of course I don't... but work is still important - "
"Merlin, Harry!" Hermione said, and she suddenly looking furious. "Would you really rather be worrying about nothing, then living a life you deserve, a life you've finally achieved?"
Harry shook his head slightly, not wanting to listen. He wanted to stand up, and storm out of this place, never see Hermione again, never listen to another useless word she had to say.
But some part of him knew she was right. Perhaps he had been working too hard... perhaps he was worrying about nothing. And perhaps... perhaps he should have married Ginny when he'd had the chance.
Everything seemed to be crashing down around him. Had he been ignoring the truth for this long? When Sirius had died, things didn't seem to matter anymore. And then, one gray morning, he'd decided he wasn't going to let another death like Sirius's happen again.
But they did. Death after death... first Sirius, then Dumbledore. Hagrid. Arabella Figg.
Something was ripping and tearing at his insides. He was no longer in the Three Broomsticks with Hermione. He was in the common room of Gryffindor Tower, with Ginny.
"Harry, this isn't just your fight! It's everyone's!" she shouted at him, tears streaming across her cheeks.
He watched her quietly, his heart bursting. "I'm sorry. I have to go."
He'd defeated Voldemort that night, in a blaze of gold and scarlet. He had pushed himself through the fray of spells and bodies, his heart pounding with fear and hatred. And then, facing Voldemort, he had cast the very spell that had killed his parents.
After that night, things had gotten quiet. People seemed to be happy, even with so many gone. Hermione and Ron started to do normal things again, like spending the day in Hogsmeade, or having a feast at the long forgotten Burrow.
But Harry, for reasons he hadn't figured out, worked harder than he ever had in his life. He studied at all hours, passing his three years of Auror training with flying colors.
But his first day of work was uneventful; there wasn't nearly as much to do when there was no Dark Lord to fight. So Harry made himself work to do. He researched, and studied, always finding something to investigate. And in so doing, he'd pushed Ginny away.
Something was tightening and throbbing in his throat. He looked down, blinking. Surely, surely...
He had long felt there was something missing after Voldemort was defeated. Surely it wasn't...
He looked back up at Hermione, who was watching him, a terrible sadness in her eyes. His own eyes were burning.
Surely the adventures hadn't ended?
Hermione let out a weak laugh. "No, Harry. I'm sure they never will."
He started, gazing at her, not realizing he'd spoken the question aloud.
There was a pause, and then Hermione said softly, "Is that what this is all about?"
Harry gazed numbly at her, unable to overcome his sudden revelation. "I – I guess," he answered feebly.
Hermione let out a burst of laughter. "Oh Harry..." she sighed.
Seeing the smile on her face, Harry suddenly wanted to smile too. He wanted to get up and dance, or run into the chilled morning air. He wanted to laugh.
"We've been quite silly just now, haven't we?" she asked gently, a smile still lingering on her face.
Harry looked at her, reflecting on their rather dramatic start to the morning. Yes, it all did seem quite silly now. A happiness Harry supposed he'd been keeping pushed down bubbled steadily up inside him. He grinned.
"So..." he said, standing up and smiling down on Hermione. "When's that ball again?"
A/N: I just wrote this on the whim it might work itself into something presentable. I hope you all like it. I'm not sure if it's just a one time shot, or something that deserves more chapters. If so, please drop a review.
Actually, just drop a review anyway. I need them. :) Wink wink.