Ch.1
"Goodbye, Mr. Weasley, Mrs. Weasley. Thanks for everything. Gred, Forge, don't get into too much trouble. Bye, Ginny. Take good care of Crookshanks for me. Mum, Dad, I'll write every day," Hermione said, hugging and kissing each in turn. She finally turned to her best friend. "And Ron," she said with a sigh. "A big goodbye to you," she finished, suffocating him in a bone-cracking embrace.
"We'll miss you, 'Mione. Have fun. And owl us. And I'll tell Harry you said goodbye," he replied, an audible fear in his voice as he said the last bit.
"But I didn't say goodbye to Harry," Hermione said coolly, releasing him.
"'Mione, I wish you could have settled this before you left."
"Settle what, Ronald?" she said menacingly.
"Please, 'Mione? Just cool off a while then write to him. Please?"
"Ronald, I am cooled off. I don't want to talk to Harry. I did nothing wrong. Juts because he's an insensitive, controlling, selfish bastard does not mean..." But then Hermione closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and picked up her luggage. "Bye, Ron. I've got to get going," she said, with a one-arm hug and a peck on the cheek.
Hermione waved to the rest of her farewell party from the deck of the ship. She settled into her cabin and took out a book. To the untrained eye it would appear as if our Ms. Granger were totally absorbed in her volume. But, dear Reader, you shall soon know better. Hermione was staring blankly at the pages of The Philosophy of Magick by Nettle Socrates. Scenes, thoughts, and feelings from her last encounter with the Boy-Who-Lived fluttered through her mind.
"But Hermione, what's in New York?" Harry asked suspiciously.
"I told you, Harry. The American Ministry has offered me a job," she replied, not meeting his eye.
"Hermione Granger, don't lie to me. You have a wonderful job at our ministry. You love your boss, your work, and the people under you, which is, in fact, quite a few. Tell me the truth," he said firmly.
"I need a change of scenery, that's all," she said, still occupying her gaze with a stray thread on her skirt.
"He's there, isn't he?" he said softly.
"What?" she said quickly. She finally looked up at him, but only for a second. His cold eyes stung too much. "What are you talking about? Who?"
"You know who, Hermione. He's in New York, isn't he?," he persisted.
"He might be. I haven't talked to him recently," she replied casually. She opened his refrigerator in a vain attempt to hide her revealing face. She was never a good liar, and Harry knew this.
"Dammit, Hermione!," he shouted and pounded his fist on the table. "Why do you do this to yourself? He's not good enough for you! Why do you keep going back to him? He doesn't love you!"
"Mr. Potter," Hermione said dangerously as she slammed the refrigerator door and turned towards him. "For you information, Lionel does love me. He tells me so in every owl. You have no idea how he feels about me. How would you? You dismissed him the first time you saw him. Maybe I keep going back to him because my best friend is too selfish and arrogant to realize that I love him back! Not that I need to explain anything to you," she finished with a 'humph'.
Harry sat down at his kitchen table, head in his hands. "Hermione," he said weakly, not turning to look at her, "if you're going to lie to me, get out of my apartment." She was too mad to cry. All she could do was stomp out, slamming the door as hard as she could. 'He doesn't know anything,' she assured herself before apparating to her own flat. She had to finish packing.
Hermione shook herself out of her reverie. 'I can't believe I didn't say goodbye. Who knows how long I'll be gone?' Her heart sunk at the thought, before she remembered why she hadn't said goodbye. 'No. he doesn't own me. He doesn't know what's best for me. And he can't tell me what to do. And I won't apologize.' She shuddered with anger, but quickly pushed Harry out of her mind and concentrated on her book.
"Goodbye, Mr. Weasley, Mrs. Weasley. Thanks for everything. Gred, Forge, don't get into too much trouble. Bye, Ginny. Take good care of Crookshanks for me. Mum, Dad, I'll write every day," Hermione said, hugging and kissing each in turn. She finally turned to her best friend. "And Ron," she said with a sigh. "A big goodbye to you," she finished, suffocating him in a bone-cracking embrace.
"We'll miss you, 'Mione. Have fun. And owl us. And I'll tell Harry you said goodbye," he replied, an audible fear in his voice as he said the last bit.
"But I didn't say goodbye to Harry," Hermione said coolly, releasing him.
"'Mione, I wish you could have settled this before you left."
"Settle what, Ronald?" she said menacingly.
"Please, 'Mione? Just cool off a while then write to him. Please?"
"Ronald, I am cooled off. I don't want to talk to Harry. I did nothing wrong. Juts because he's an insensitive, controlling, selfish bastard does not mean..." But then Hermione closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and picked up her luggage. "Bye, Ron. I've got to get going," she said, with a one-arm hug and a peck on the cheek.
Hermione waved to the rest of her farewell party from the deck of the ship. She settled into her cabin and took out a book. To the untrained eye it would appear as if our Ms. Granger were totally absorbed in her volume. But, dear Reader, you shall soon know better. Hermione was staring blankly at the pages of The Philosophy of Magick by Nettle Socrates. Scenes, thoughts, and feelings from her last encounter with the Boy-Who-Lived fluttered through her mind.
"But Hermione, what's in New York?" Harry asked suspiciously.
"I told you, Harry. The American Ministry has offered me a job," she replied, not meeting his eye.
"Hermione Granger, don't lie to me. You have a wonderful job at our ministry. You love your boss, your work, and the people under you, which is, in fact, quite a few. Tell me the truth," he said firmly.
"I need a change of scenery, that's all," she said, still occupying her gaze with a stray thread on her skirt.
"He's there, isn't he?" he said softly.
"What?" she said quickly. She finally looked up at him, but only for a second. His cold eyes stung too much. "What are you talking about? Who?"
"You know who, Hermione. He's in New York, isn't he?," he persisted.
"He might be. I haven't talked to him recently," she replied casually. She opened his refrigerator in a vain attempt to hide her revealing face. She was never a good liar, and Harry knew this.
"Dammit, Hermione!," he shouted and pounded his fist on the table. "Why do you do this to yourself? He's not good enough for you! Why do you keep going back to him? He doesn't love you!"
"Mr. Potter," Hermione said dangerously as she slammed the refrigerator door and turned towards him. "For you information, Lionel does love me. He tells me so in every owl. You have no idea how he feels about me. How would you? You dismissed him the first time you saw him. Maybe I keep going back to him because my best friend is too selfish and arrogant to realize that I love him back! Not that I need to explain anything to you," she finished with a 'humph'.
Harry sat down at his kitchen table, head in his hands. "Hermione," he said weakly, not turning to look at her, "if you're going to lie to me, get out of my apartment." She was too mad to cry. All she could do was stomp out, slamming the door as hard as she could. 'He doesn't know anything,' she assured herself before apparating to her own flat. She had to finish packing.
Hermione shook herself out of her reverie. 'I can't believe I didn't say goodbye. Who knows how long I'll be gone?' Her heart sunk at the thought, before she remembered why she hadn't said goodbye. 'No. he doesn't own me. He doesn't know what's best for me. And he can't tell me what to do. And I won't apologize.' She shuddered with anger, but quickly pushed Harry out of her mind and concentrated on her book.