Ch.5
It had been three years since Harry and Hermione had seen each other. Hermione now lived in New York, writing for the American witch magazine, Spellbound. She had a new job, a new apartment, a new boyfriend, a new life. So why couldn't she just forget him?
Harry continued his job as an Auror, often drowning himself in his work in attempts to forget. He had stopped dating. Weeks after Hermione had left, the question that was bubbling inside Harry finally broke the surface. Did he love Hermione? Well, of course he did. She was his best friend. Of course he loved her. No, he thought. There's more. A shudder ran through his body as he realized he had fallen for her. He loved her with all his heart. He wanted to spend the rest of his life with her lying in his arms. He wanted her to say "I love you, too." But he knew that would never happen. He didn't love her. If she did she wouldn't have left. Right?
Hermione thought she was happy with her new life in New York. She knew she should be. But she also knew the one thing that was keeping her from being happy. She tried with all her might, but Hermione couldn't shake the feeling that she still belonged with Harry.
Hermione told herself she loved her boyfriend. But deep down she knew she didn't. Hell, on the surface she knew she didn't. Even so, she wasn't going to let a little thing like that make her run back to Harry. So she hadn't found anyone yet, that doesn't mean he's not out there.
Hermione and Samson's relationship had started out fine. He made her feel special when he brought her flowers. She loved when he took her on the roof to dance in the rain. She made him home-cooked dinners and let him stay with her in return. It seemed he was always between jobs. But he always found the money, somehow, to get his next fix. Hermione never took part in his "hobby", but she couldn't persuade him to quit.
Hermione didn't want to leave Samson. What if she never found anyone else? It would just give her more time to think about Harry, something she really didn't need. But she was so tired. Tired of working so hard so he could have a place to sleep. Tired of helping him recover from the night before. Tired of his perpetual come-downs and hangovers. Tired of his lack of gratitude. Tired of being so lonely.
One night Hermione came home to a sickly pale Samson, passed out on the bathroom floor. He had missed the toilet. That was it. She was done. She didn't care anymore. She quickly magicked everything she needed into a trunk and stepped out of her apartment and into the hall.
Where was she going to go? Hermione didn't have any friends close enough she felt she could go to them now. One face kept popping into her mind. But she couldn't. She had come so far. No you haven't, a voice whispered in her head. Just because you haven't seen him for three years doesn't mean you love him any less. She knew the voice was right. But what about Harry? How did she know he wanted to see her? Were they still friends? After she left like that? He was probably so mad. And now he's forgotten about her, pushed her out of his mind. Tried to erase her. But she knew better. Even if he was still mad, they were still friends. Best friends. He still cared for her. He had promised her he would always be there. Now she was going to take him up on his offer.
There was a soft knock on Harry's door. Then a pause. Another knock, louder this time. "Harry?" a voice called timidly. The knocker opened the door and peeked inside, still knocking. "Harry?" she called again. No one answered.
Hermione stepped inside. Luckily, Harry hadn't moved. He obviously still lived here. Who else could live in this mess? A sad, nostalgic smile spread across Hermione's face as she walked around the living room, remembering all the time they had spent together here. She looked at all the pictures: Harry's parents, Sirius, the original Order of the Phoenix, Ron, the new order, even some of Harry and herself. And some of just her. In fact, there were a lot of these. That was a good sign. At least he wasn't so mad he had put the pictures away.
Hermione decided to sit on the sofa and wait for Harry to get home, wherever he was. She winced slightly when she wondered if he was on a date. An hour passed before Hermione slumped over and fell into a deep sleep. It had been a very emotion night. And it was only going to get worse.
It had been three years since Harry and Hermione had seen each other. Hermione now lived in New York, writing for the American witch magazine, Spellbound. She had a new job, a new apartment, a new boyfriend, a new life. So why couldn't she just forget him?
Harry continued his job as an Auror, often drowning himself in his work in attempts to forget. He had stopped dating. Weeks after Hermione had left, the question that was bubbling inside Harry finally broke the surface. Did he love Hermione? Well, of course he did. She was his best friend. Of course he loved her. No, he thought. There's more. A shudder ran through his body as he realized he had fallen for her. He loved her with all his heart. He wanted to spend the rest of his life with her lying in his arms. He wanted her to say "I love you, too." But he knew that would never happen. He didn't love her. If she did she wouldn't have left. Right?
Hermione thought she was happy with her new life in New York. She knew she should be. But she also knew the one thing that was keeping her from being happy. She tried with all her might, but Hermione couldn't shake the feeling that she still belonged with Harry.
Hermione told herself she loved her boyfriend. But deep down she knew she didn't. Hell, on the surface she knew she didn't. Even so, she wasn't going to let a little thing like that make her run back to Harry. So she hadn't found anyone yet, that doesn't mean he's not out there.
Hermione and Samson's relationship had started out fine. He made her feel special when he brought her flowers. She loved when he took her on the roof to dance in the rain. She made him home-cooked dinners and let him stay with her in return. It seemed he was always between jobs. But he always found the money, somehow, to get his next fix. Hermione never took part in his "hobby", but she couldn't persuade him to quit.
Hermione didn't want to leave Samson. What if she never found anyone else? It would just give her more time to think about Harry, something she really didn't need. But she was so tired. Tired of working so hard so he could have a place to sleep. Tired of helping him recover from the night before. Tired of his perpetual come-downs and hangovers. Tired of his lack of gratitude. Tired of being so lonely.
One night Hermione came home to a sickly pale Samson, passed out on the bathroom floor. He had missed the toilet. That was it. She was done. She didn't care anymore. She quickly magicked everything she needed into a trunk and stepped out of her apartment and into the hall.
Where was she going to go? Hermione didn't have any friends close enough she felt she could go to them now. One face kept popping into her mind. But she couldn't. She had come so far. No you haven't, a voice whispered in her head. Just because you haven't seen him for three years doesn't mean you love him any less. She knew the voice was right. But what about Harry? How did she know he wanted to see her? Were they still friends? After she left like that? He was probably so mad. And now he's forgotten about her, pushed her out of his mind. Tried to erase her. But she knew better. Even if he was still mad, they were still friends. Best friends. He still cared for her. He had promised her he would always be there. Now she was going to take him up on his offer.
There was a soft knock on Harry's door. Then a pause. Another knock, louder this time. "Harry?" a voice called timidly. The knocker opened the door and peeked inside, still knocking. "Harry?" she called again. No one answered.
Hermione stepped inside. Luckily, Harry hadn't moved. He obviously still lived here. Who else could live in this mess? A sad, nostalgic smile spread across Hermione's face as she walked around the living room, remembering all the time they had spent together here. She looked at all the pictures: Harry's parents, Sirius, the original Order of the Phoenix, Ron, the new order, even some of Harry and herself. And some of just her. In fact, there were a lot of these. That was a good sign. At least he wasn't so mad he had put the pictures away.
Hermione decided to sit on the sofa and wait for Harry to get home, wherever he was. She winced slightly when she wondered if he was on a date. An hour passed before Hermione slumped over and fell into a deep sleep. It had been a very emotion night. And it was only going to get worse.