Ch.6
Harry apparated into his bedroom in high spirits. He was whistling and he practically bounced over to his dresser. He had just obtained a confession from their prime suspect in his latest case. He quickly undressed down to his boxers and climbed into bed. He lay in his back, smiling at the ceiling, drumming his fingers on his chest. He soon decided he wasn't at all tired and got up to have a snack. He bounded through the living room and into the kitchen, not noticing anyone fast asleep on his couch.
He strode back into the living room a few minutes later, now humming as he brought his sandwich up to his lips. But then he stopped dead, mouth open, and dropped his ham-and-cheese. There was Hermione, the woman he loved and hadn't seen for three years, quietly snoring on his sofa. He slowly moved over to her and knelt down. He placed his hand on her shoulder, to wake her up and to make sure she was real.
"Hermione?" he whispered. She stirred slightly but remained unconscious. "Hermione," he said louder. He eyes fluttered open with a smile. But the smile quickly disappeared and comprehension took its place.
"Harry," she sputtered, jerkily moving to an upright position. "I was waiting for you to get home and I...fell asleep."
"Obviously," he replied with a smile. "But why are you here?" his grin instantly vanished. "Are you Ok? What's wrong?" His eyes rapidly scanned her face and body. His right hand flew to smooth down her rumpled hair, his left grazed her cheek before they both rested momentarily on her shoulder and slid down her arms. She shivered. His face was full of worry and anxiousness.
"Harry, I'm find," she said as she took his hands. "I just need a place to stay for awhile." His look of relief evaporated and his face turned stony.
"Why should I?" he asked coldly, standing up and crossing his arms.
"I...but...you..."she stammered. He had not expected this after she saw his initial reaction to her presence. Her worry bubbled inside her again. Before Hermione could answer, Harry marched across the room, picked up his forgotten midnight snack and stomped into the kitchen. Hermione rose slowly and cautiously followed him. She paused at the doorway. He was standing at the sink, leaning on his palms, with his back to her. His shoulders were heaving and Hermione could hear his heavy breathing. "Harry, you're all I have left. I thought you would help me," she said meekly. Her palms began to sweat.
"You were all I had left, too!" he shouted. "And you were gone. You didn't even have the decency to give me a reason. I was your best friend! And you were so ungrateful! I died the day you left, Hermione!" He finally turned to face her.
"Harry James Potter," she huffed, her voice rising. Anger had replaced her worry. "How dare you call me ungrateful! And if I remember correctly, I was your best friend, too! I didn't some pretty great things for you, too, mister! Ungrateful?! Hmph. I don't owe you anything!" she breathed heavily through her nose.
"No," he said softly. The lowered volume did not muffle his anger. "You do owe me something. Two things, actually. First you owe me an explanation as to why you left. And you owe me the three years of my life I spent waiting for you.
Hermione opened her mouth to retaliate, but closed it, dumbfounded at the last bit of information? "Waiting?" she whispered, her brow furrowed in confusion.
"Tell me," he said firmly.
"Fine," she sighed. Hermione knew she had no choice. She had to tell him.
But just then Hedwig swooped in and dropped a letter on Harry's head. Hermione recognized it immediately. Her eyes began to sting and a wave of relief and happiness swept over her body. Harry just stared at the dirty, mangled old envelope. His name was printed neatly across the front, slightly smudged from what appeared to be tearstains.
Harry apparated into his bedroom in high spirits. He was whistling and he practically bounced over to his dresser. He had just obtained a confession from their prime suspect in his latest case. He quickly undressed down to his boxers and climbed into bed. He lay in his back, smiling at the ceiling, drumming his fingers on his chest. He soon decided he wasn't at all tired and got up to have a snack. He bounded through the living room and into the kitchen, not noticing anyone fast asleep on his couch.
He strode back into the living room a few minutes later, now humming as he brought his sandwich up to his lips. But then he stopped dead, mouth open, and dropped his ham-and-cheese. There was Hermione, the woman he loved and hadn't seen for three years, quietly snoring on his sofa. He slowly moved over to her and knelt down. He placed his hand on her shoulder, to wake her up and to make sure she was real.
"Hermione?" he whispered. She stirred slightly but remained unconscious. "Hermione," he said louder. He eyes fluttered open with a smile. But the smile quickly disappeared and comprehension took its place.
"Harry," she sputtered, jerkily moving to an upright position. "I was waiting for you to get home and I...fell asleep."
"Obviously," he replied with a smile. "But why are you here?" his grin instantly vanished. "Are you Ok? What's wrong?" His eyes rapidly scanned her face and body. His right hand flew to smooth down her rumpled hair, his left grazed her cheek before they both rested momentarily on her shoulder and slid down her arms. She shivered. His face was full of worry and anxiousness.
"Harry, I'm find," she said as she took his hands. "I just need a place to stay for awhile." His look of relief evaporated and his face turned stony.
"Why should I?" he asked coldly, standing up and crossing his arms.
"I...but...you..."she stammered. He had not expected this after she saw his initial reaction to her presence. Her worry bubbled inside her again. Before Hermione could answer, Harry marched across the room, picked up his forgotten midnight snack and stomped into the kitchen. Hermione rose slowly and cautiously followed him. She paused at the doorway. He was standing at the sink, leaning on his palms, with his back to her. His shoulders were heaving and Hermione could hear his heavy breathing. "Harry, you're all I have left. I thought you would help me," she said meekly. Her palms began to sweat.
"You were all I had left, too!" he shouted. "And you were gone. You didn't even have the decency to give me a reason. I was your best friend! And you were so ungrateful! I died the day you left, Hermione!" He finally turned to face her.
"Harry James Potter," she huffed, her voice rising. Anger had replaced her worry. "How dare you call me ungrateful! And if I remember correctly, I was your best friend, too! I didn't some pretty great things for you, too, mister! Ungrateful?! Hmph. I don't owe you anything!" she breathed heavily through her nose.
"No," he said softly. The lowered volume did not muffle his anger. "You do owe me something. Two things, actually. First you owe me an explanation as to why you left. And you owe me the three years of my life I spent waiting for you.
Hermione opened her mouth to retaliate, but closed it, dumbfounded at the last bit of information? "Waiting?" she whispered, her brow furrowed in confusion.
"Tell me," he said firmly.
"Fine," she sighed. Hermione knew she had no choice. She had to tell him.
But just then Hedwig swooped in and dropped a letter on Harry's head. Hermione recognized it immediately. Her eyes began to sting and a wave of relief and happiness swept over her body. Harry just stared at the dirty, mangled old envelope. His name was printed neatly across the front, slightly smudged from what appeared to be tearstains.