Chapter 1.
AN...I wrote a story very similar to this for English a year ago...well, my teacher lost the paper...but I still remember most of it, and now I've re-written it, for Harry and Hermione. I'm unsure as to whether I'm going to continue this after these two chapters, I'll see where my inspiration takes me, and what kind of reviews it gets. The original story was meant to end where it ended, so It kinds of finishes itself, but I could continue...Anyway, here it is...The Letter...The Harry and Hermione Version.
Hermione hugged Ginny as they stood outside the station.
"Good luck." Ginny smiled.
"Thanks", Hermione smiled back nervously. Ginny hugged her one last time and walked back towards her car.
"I'm sorry I have to leave you here, you know I'd have wanted to see you on the train, but Neville booked the table and all...." Ginny tailed off.
"Its fine, it's fine." Hermione said, and smiled at her red-headed friend as she watched her get into her car, wave, and drive off for lunch with her husband.
Hermione sighed and dragged her case to the platform. She looked up at the big clock, she still had ten minutes. She looked in her handbag and checked she had her tickets, bought a magazine from the stand and sat on a red iron seat. She flicked through the magazine, but was too nervous to read. It had been lovely, spending a few weeks with Ginny, who had been a close friend ever since leaving Hogwarts. Sure, Ron and Harry were great friends, but she needed girlfriends too. She smiled, thinking of Ginny. She was doing really great for herself, she and Neville had been going out since Christmastime of their sixth year at Hogwarts, and got engaged not long after they left. They decided to start a whole new life, in Scotland, of all places, a small town near Dundee in the East.
Although, leaving the Burrow had a disadvantage...they couldn't use magic as much as they'd like, which is why they both had to get driving lessons as soon as they moved. They were leading a mainly muggle life, with the exception of their jobs; Ginny was a nurse at the nearest Wizarding Hospital and Neville, well, he worked in London. He got his apparating licence and apparates to Diagon Alley every morning, where he works in Fred and George's shop.
Hermione was snapped out of her daydream at the scream of a small child. She looked over curiously, and saw a small boy, only two or three, with blonde hair and blue dungarees. He was lying on the ground, and his face was bright red with crying. Hermione watched as his mother ran up to him and picked him up, hugging him close. That was what Hermione loved to see, a single mother. And just as she was going over woman's independence in her head, a tall man with fair hair rushed over from the men's bathroom, and ruffled the boy's hair, his father, of course. 'Aaah', Hermione smiled, shaking her head. 'Clearly not!'
At that thought, the train arrived. Hermione checked for her tickets one last time and walked up to the door and climbed on. She was used to this form of muggle transport by now, from random visits to Ginny and Neville. This visit was somewhat different. She looked around for her seat, and found it a few rows down. Placing her luggage in the rack, she sat down and put her handbag on her lap, reaching in for the tickets. Her heart jumped as her hand brushed another piece of paper. She shook her head. 'Not now', she thought. A rather fat, balding man sat beside her. She smiled at him and closed her bag. 'Later, later', she thought. The conductor came and they gave him their tickets and not long after, the train started. This brought back memories of her schooldays at Hogwarts, and getting the train with her best friends, Ron and...and Harry. She sighed at the thought of his name, and butterflies rose in her stomach.
He was the reason she was with Ginny these past few weeks. She didn't know if she was mad at him, she didn't know what to think. She still loved him, although she cursed herself inside for it, and she had no idea as to whether he still loved her too. She shook her head and reached into her bag for the magazine she had bought at the station, avoiding The Letter. She laughed, 'muggle magazines'. The man beside her turned curiously. She hadn't realised she had said that aloud. She raised the magazine and hid behind it. There wasn't much in it that interested her, some real life stories about strange families...one girl who swore she had been abducted by aliens...then she came across the 'Problem Pages'. Hermione glanced over the headings. Some of them confused her, 'Is she that stupid?' she thought. 'Did her parent's not tell her THAT?'...'That must be painful'...then she came across another one which was a little close to home, about a girl...and her boyfriend. She closed the magazine and looked at her handbag. With shaking hands, she opened it and took out The Letter and slowly opened it...she couldn't. A lump formed in her throat as she put it away, and she realised that her neighbour was looking at her curiously. 'God he's so nosey!' she thought. She smiled at him and looked out of the window.
About an hour later, her eyes were drawn to her bag again. With a quick glance at the man beside her, who was now asleep, and drooling slightly, she took out The Letter. With a fresh lump forming in her throat, she unfolded it. She read it, but she knew the words by heart, she had read it so many times. Seeing his handwriting again sent a tear rolling down her cheek. It was followed by a few more as she read down the single-page parchment. She shut her eyes. How could he have done that to her? Harry Potter...her best friend...her boyfriend.
She had woken that morning, that fateful morning, and turned to smile at him, but he wasn't in bed. She hadn't panicked, she just assumed he may be in the toilet, or in the kitchen making his morning tea and reading the paper, as usual. It was then she noticed it. The Letter, lying on his pillow. She picked it up cautiously and opened it. His words made her want to scream, want to cry...because they were so simple, why? Why could he not have waited till morning? Why could he not have told her to her face? It worried her too. Mr Weasley, whom Harry had been very close too, since they now both worked at the ministry...well, Mr Weasley had said it himself, Harry was like a son to him, and Harry looked to Mr Weasley as a father, and he had been to him, Hermione reasoned. Ever since Sirius' death in their fifth year. Anyway, Harry had found out that Mr Weasley was ill, and, in The Letter, he said that he had to go and see him. Ron was in Romania with Charlie for a year, and couldn't get back. The letter rounded off with 'I don't know how long I'll be away. He's very ill, and Molly's upset. I need to be there for them, Hermione, please see that. And I'm sorry for leaving in the middle of the night. I'll contact you to let you know how things are. Love, Harry xx'.
And that was it. Full stop. There was no contact. He didn't phone, didn't write, didn't send an owl, didn't do anything. For a month. Hermione had been going out of her mind. By the last week, she had come to the conclusion that he had broken up with her but just was too cowardly to tell her. Harry Potter...amazingly brave in the face of danger, Hermione smiled as recalled his numerous brushes with death at Hogwarts. But when it came to girls...he had always been terrified to confront them. Typical Harry, she smiled. Hermione had started to move on. She had called Ginny and asked if she could stay with them for a while, to get away, and to clear her head. Of course, Ginny and Neville were all too keen to oblige, and had taken her in for nearly three weeks, but now was the time, she had to go home and face the music, she had to speak to him.
She opened her eyes and wiped her cheeks. The man beside her was still asleep, and was now snoring slightly. She put away the letter and lay back in her seat. Thoughts running through her head, the countryside whizzing by her outside. It was late afternoon by now. It was getting closer and closer. She wondered what his reaction would be to her turning up on his doorstep, but it was just something she had to do.
AN...I wrote a story very similar to this for English a year ago...well, my teacher lost the paper...but I still remember most of it, and now I've re-written it, for Harry and Hermione. I'm unsure as to whether I'm going to continue this after these two chapters, I'll see where my inspiration takes me, and what kind of reviews it gets. The original story was meant to end where it ended, so It kinds of finishes itself, but I could continue...Anyway, here it is...The Letter...The Harry and Hermione Version.
Hermione hugged Ginny as they stood outside the station.
"Good luck." Ginny smiled.
"Thanks", Hermione smiled back nervously. Ginny hugged her one last time and walked back towards her car.
"I'm sorry I have to leave you here, you know I'd have wanted to see you on the train, but Neville booked the table and all...." Ginny tailed off.
"Its fine, it's fine." Hermione said, and smiled at her red-headed friend as she watched her get into her car, wave, and drive off for lunch with her husband.
Hermione sighed and dragged her case to the platform. She looked up at the big clock, she still had ten minutes. She looked in her handbag and checked she had her tickets, bought a magazine from the stand and sat on a red iron seat. She flicked through the magazine, but was too nervous to read. It had been lovely, spending a few weeks with Ginny, who had been a close friend ever since leaving Hogwarts. Sure, Ron and Harry were great friends, but she needed girlfriends too. She smiled, thinking of Ginny. She was doing really great for herself, she and Neville had been going out since Christmastime of their sixth year at Hogwarts, and got engaged not long after they left. They decided to start a whole new life, in Scotland, of all places, a small town near Dundee in the East.
Although, leaving the Burrow had a disadvantage...they couldn't use magic as much as they'd like, which is why they both had to get driving lessons as soon as they moved. They were leading a mainly muggle life, with the exception of their jobs; Ginny was a nurse at the nearest Wizarding Hospital and Neville, well, he worked in London. He got his apparating licence and apparates to Diagon Alley every morning, where he works in Fred and George's shop.
Hermione was snapped out of her daydream at the scream of a small child. She looked over curiously, and saw a small boy, only two or three, with blonde hair and blue dungarees. He was lying on the ground, and his face was bright red with crying. Hermione watched as his mother ran up to him and picked him up, hugging him close. That was what Hermione loved to see, a single mother. And just as she was going over woman's independence in her head, a tall man with fair hair rushed over from the men's bathroom, and ruffled the boy's hair, his father, of course. 'Aaah', Hermione smiled, shaking her head. 'Clearly not!'
At that thought, the train arrived. Hermione checked for her tickets one last time and walked up to the door and climbed on. She was used to this form of muggle transport by now, from random visits to Ginny and Neville. This visit was somewhat different. She looked around for her seat, and found it a few rows down. Placing her luggage in the rack, she sat down and put her handbag on her lap, reaching in for the tickets. Her heart jumped as her hand brushed another piece of paper. She shook her head. 'Not now', she thought. A rather fat, balding man sat beside her. She smiled at him and closed her bag. 'Later, later', she thought. The conductor came and they gave him their tickets and not long after, the train started. This brought back memories of her schooldays at Hogwarts, and getting the train with her best friends, Ron and...and Harry. She sighed at the thought of his name, and butterflies rose in her stomach.
He was the reason she was with Ginny these past few weeks. She didn't know if she was mad at him, she didn't know what to think. She still loved him, although she cursed herself inside for it, and she had no idea as to whether he still loved her too. She shook her head and reached into her bag for the magazine she had bought at the station, avoiding The Letter. She laughed, 'muggle magazines'. The man beside her turned curiously. She hadn't realised she had said that aloud. She raised the magazine and hid behind it. There wasn't much in it that interested her, some real life stories about strange families...one girl who swore she had been abducted by aliens...then she came across the 'Problem Pages'. Hermione glanced over the headings. Some of them confused her, 'Is she that stupid?' she thought. 'Did her parent's not tell her THAT?'...'That must be painful'...then she came across another one which was a little close to home, about a girl...and her boyfriend. She closed the magazine and looked at her handbag. With shaking hands, she opened it and took out The Letter and slowly opened it...she couldn't. A lump formed in her throat as she put it away, and she realised that her neighbour was looking at her curiously. 'God he's so nosey!' she thought. She smiled at him and looked out of the window.
About an hour later, her eyes were drawn to her bag again. With a quick glance at the man beside her, who was now asleep, and drooling slightly, she took out The Letter. With a fresh lump forming in her throat, she unfolded it. She read it, but she knew the words by heart, she had read it so many times. Seeing his handwriting again sent a tear rolling down her cheek. It was followed by a few more as she read down the single-page parchment. She shut her eyes. How could he have done that to her? Harry Potter...her best friend...her boyfriend.
She had woken that morning, that fateful morning, and turned to smile at him, but he wasn't in bed. She hadn't panicked, she just assumed he may be in the toilet, or in the kitchen making his morning tea and reading the paper, as usual. It was then she noticed it. The Letter, lying on his pillow. She picked it up cautiously and opened it. His words made her want to scream, want to cry...because they were so simple, why? Why could he not have waited till morning? Why could he not have told her to her face? It worried her too. Mr Weasley, whom Harry had been very close too, since they now both worked at the ministry...well, Mr Weasley had said it himself, Harry was like a son to him, and Harry looked to Mr Weasley as a father, and he had been to him, Hermione reasoned. Ever since Sirius' death in their fifth year. Anyway, Harry had found out that Mr Weasley was ill, and, in The Letter, he said that he had to go and see him. Ron was in Romania with Charlie for a year, and couldn't get back. The letter rounded off with 'I don't know how long I'll be away. He's very ill, and Molly's upset. I need to be there for them, Hermione, please see that. And I'm sorry for leaving in the middle of the night. I'll contact you to let you know how things are. Love, Harry xx'.
And that was it. Full stop. There was no contact. He didn't phone, didn't write, didn't send an owl, didn't do anything. For a month. Hermione had been going out of her mind. By the last week, she had come to the conclusion that he had broken up with her but just was too cowardly to tell her. Harry Potter...amazingly brave in the face of danger, Hermione smiled as recalled his numerous brushes with death at Hogwarts. But when it came to girls...he had always been terrified to confront them. Typical Harry, she smiled. Hermione had started to move on. She had called Ginny and asked if she could stay with them for a while, to get away, and to clear her head. Of course, Ginny and Neville were all too keen to oblige, and had taken her in for nearly three weeks, but now was the time, she had to go home and face the music, she had to speak to him.
She opened her eyes and wiped her cheeks. The man beside her was still asleep, and was now snoring slightly. She put away the letter and lay back in her seat. Thoughts running through her head, the countryside whizzing by her outside. It was late afternoon by now. It was getting closer and closer. She wondered what his reaction would be to her turning up on his doorstep, but it was just something she had to do.