Ch.6

Once again, the dock was swarming with people. Hermione smiled to herself at the thought of how many happy reunions had taken place on this very spot. Not only hers, but complete strangers'. She thought that if she were a writer, the dock would be an amazing place to people watch. She knew muggle writers loved to people watch in airports and wondered what the hot-watching spot for wizard-writers was. But a pair of passing witches yanked her back into reality. They were muttering something about "Harry Potter". She quickly followed them, weaving in and out of the crowd, catching bits and pieces of their conversation. Apparently, word had gotten out that the famous, no, infamous, Harry Potter, would be arriving on this very ship. Hermione rolled her eyes when she saw the knot of witches giggling, wearing a mix of Gryffindor sweaters, Appleby Arrow (Harry's teams) shirts, and badges displaying a flashing lightning bolt. 'How revolting,' Hermione thought to herself. But then she laughed when she realized how jealous all these witches would be to see Harry come after Hermione when he got off. She pushed herself to the front of the dock and began searching the throng of magical travelers getting off the ship for the same person most everyone was searching for.

He was one of the last to get off, securely flanked by two especially Crabbe and Goyle-esque bodyguards (something Hermione would be sure to make fun of him for later) and hidden behind a pair of sunglasses. He was wearing a stocking cap to hide his trademark hair, but tufts of the unruly raven mass could be seen. Everyone knew it was him. And because of this, everyone started for him. Hermione was pushed and shoved this way and that, and spun around to yell at an especially riotous witch when she fell over someone's feet (probably her own) and began to speedily, and ungracefully, drop towards the salty dock.

She felt a pair of arms grab her just in time and set her straight. Her back was to her rescuer, but she immediately recognized the tingle up and down her spine. They both stood there, paralyzed, for eons. Screaming witches were begging for an autograph, but he just stood there, frozen, staring at some wild brown hair.

Hermione slowly turned around, and looked at her shoes. She tentatively raised her head, only to be met by a pair of impersonal sunglasses. She smirked, sighed, and reached up to remove them. She flicked them off, and her breath caught in her throat. 'Wow,' was all her addled brain could manage. It had been forever and a day since she had seen those emerald orbs. It was like going home, looking into them again. And, wait, were those tears swimming around in Harry Potter's eyes? It couldn't be. She smiled at the thought.

But that was exactly what they were. And apparently Hermione's smile was all they needed to escape through his lashes. She laughed when the first one slid down his cheek.

"A little sentimental, aren't we, Mr. Potter?" she said as she too began to cry.

"Hermione," he whispered, as he gathered her close to him. They stood there rocking back and forth for…well, a long time. They could hear cameras flashing and quills scratching and witches screaming, but they ignored it all. They were lost. They were both so happy to be back together. They wanted to stay like that forever, but Hermione, ever the level-headed one, snapped them back to the dock.

"Well, Harry," she said as she wiped her wet cheek, "we better get you away from your fan club before they eat you alive." She sniffed and grabbed his hand, weaving through the sea of people out into the street. Once they got into the heart of New York, fewer people would recognize him, and even fewer would make a fuss. She hailed a cab and they climbed in, leaving nearly a hundred witches dreadfully disappointed.

Hermione turned to Harry and opened her mouth to say something, but once again her breath was caught in her throat. He was still crying. And still smiling. "Now, Harry," she reasoned, "we must stop this crying business. We'll never get anything done, and I always look dreadful after a good cry." She reached into her purse for a tissue for both of them.

"You're right," he sighed. "Like usual." He took the tissue, but just fiddled with it. "I've just missed you so much, 'Mione."

"Oh, Harry. I've missed you, too." She threw herself on him and began sobbing.

"I thought you said we had to stop this crying business," he said.

"Oh, just one more," she wailed between sobs.

"Alright," he said as he heaved her onto his lap.

Lionel was still at work when Harry and Hermione got home. She set to putting on a kettle and he snooped around the apartment awhile, shedding coat, hat, scarf, and gloves. Hermione came back into the living room, took Harry's things and showed him to his room. Things were beginning to tense up now that the initial reunion was over. She plopped primly onto the sofa and patted the seat next to her. He nervously sat down.

"Well, Harry," she began. She stopped. What was she supposed to say? 'What have you been up to?' According to Ron, absolutely nothing she hadn't found out from newspapers and tabloids. And if there was something else (especially someone else) she didn't really want to know. Plus, what if she said something about Lionel and they got in another fight. She hadn't waited this long to just throw it all away after an hour together. But then she looked up and saw his expecting green eyes searching her face.

"Well, Harry," she started again. "It's been a long time. But I want you to know that I still love you." She scooted closer and took his hand. "I want to put everything behind us. It's not worth losing us."

Harry was thrilled. The thought of leaning in and kissing her was just beginning to cross his mind when a key jiggled in the door and Lionel stepped in. Harry had forgotten about him. All of a sudden horrible thoughts filled his head, thoughts of the fight, of being alone after she left, and of things that hadn't happened, things he had only imagined. Things he didn't dare put into words, even in his head. He started to tense up, and Hermione sensed it, since she was still holding his hand. She didn't know what to do. Just then, the kettle screamed.