Disclaimer: I own nothing regarding the Harry Potter universe. I do own the aliases and anything you don't recognize. Like the plot. Don't sue me, it's not worth the time or the effort. All name definitions are from In a future where Voldemort is rapidly sweeping through the world and hope is dwindling, a savior must emerge to fight and win. Harry Potter is that savior. He returns from a seven year absence to a destroyed and enslaved Europe with some old friends in order to help the Resistance. Surprisingly, this isn't the same as my other story!
Rating: M, for violence, language and adult situations.
Beta'd by the lovely dotcomgirl
Only this chapter will be in Hermione's POV.
Winning Team
Chapter One: Reunions
"We interrupt tonight's usually scheduled program for an update on the war in Europe. France has finally fallen to the mysterious force that has taken all of Western Europe, despite aid from the United States. A recent census states the death toll overseas is 6.7 million and rising. We go to Nora Thoth for more information…." as the picture on the screen changed from the plastic looking man at a desk to a gaunt dark haired woman in a deserted alley in Europe, the woman behind the bar tried to blink back tears of anger and hopelessness.
"Damn it!" she screamed, throwing down a dingy, stained rag she was using to wipe down the even dingier bar. At the stares she received from the more sober customers, she just gave a forced smile and sunk behind the counter and dropped her head in her hands. Slowly and gradually tears started to fall, silently and forcefully spilling from her eyes. She cried, not so much for France, but for her friends, her parents, the home she left, and the identity she lost. But she would compose herself like she always did in these brief moments of weakness. She was still sniffling, however, when a disparaging voice was heard from above.
"What must one for a bit of service in the fine establishment?" it sneered loudly. The woman rolled her eyes and scrubbed her face with her hands before standing up and turning to face the rude presence. A pale man with black hair tied back in a slick ponytail and glittering, haunted black eyes, she had to look twice at him, he looked so familiar.
"Hello, sir. What can I do for you," she bit, digging in the pocket of her baggy faded jeans for a pack of cigarettes. She faintly remembered a time when she would have cringed at her tone and at her nicotine cravings—
"A dirty martini, please," he said, eyeing her suspiciously.
"Right away," she muttered. God, she needed a cigarette. "Gin or vodka, sir?" she asked, grabbing a glass.
"What?" his attention seemed to be on the brunette reporter now, as though she were speaking directly to him through the screen, "Yes, vodka, please."
"Of course."
The man dressed pristinely in all black alternately watched the cheep television and the woman shaking his martini. He remembered a time when this woman wouldn't be caught dead looking like this urchin before him. Her white wife beater was thin and graying and her stained white apron was untied over her grungy ripped jeans and she looked waxy without any makeup. Her collar bone and cheek bones protruded in a way that was almost attractive, had she not looked so starved. He wondered if she was actually who he was looking for. But he knew she was. He read it in the way she stood and in her precise movements as she wiped down his grimy glass with an even grimier rag. And in the way her hair was held up with a pencil. Plus his companion was so sure. He was stirred out of his musings as the young woman gracelessly put his drink down in front of him. He looked at her sharply.
"What is your name, young lady," he asked, trying to make his tone cordial.
She scoffed and put a fag to her lips. Brandishing a lighter, she asked "What's it to you, pal?"
"I am merely curious, and would you refrain from blowing that pollutant indoors?"
"So sorry, sir," she said, deliberately and slowly exhaling in his face, "Perhaps you would be better suited at a higher end establishment. Possibly the Ritz Carlton?"
"Believe me, miss, were it not for the fact that I am meeting an associate who was adamant that we met here, that is exactly where I would be," he bit back, his temper rising.
She took another drag and responded with a dead pan: "So sorry to hear your associate has such poor taste; Helen Green"
"What?"
"My name," she clarified, "is Helen Green."
"Ah," then, for some reason he felt the need to reciprocate "Simon Saskia." He stuck out his hand. Helen shook it hesitantly as the similarities between this man and her former teacher were becoming more and more striking.
Their conversation was momentarily aborted as the door to the stifling, filthy bar opened, letting in a burst of could cold grimy city air in. In walked another pristinely dressed man. He too wore his black hair in a ponytail at the nape of his neck, only his hair seemed much less tame—only strikingly so—and he walked with a regal commanding aura. The man Helen was talking to against her better judgment stood up to greet him. She wasn't an idiot. She knew who this man—Simon—reminded her off. And that the only reason these two men were at this bar was for her. She only hoped that if it was him, he was still on Dumbledore's side. What she found curious, though, was why they waited this long to try and find her. And who was this "associate?"
The two men were back at the bar. Helen snuffed out her cigarette in an ashtray and turned to the new guy. "Can I get you anything, si—" His eyes. She had only met one person with eyes like that, and Harry Potter had disappeared seven years ago.
Green Eyes looked at her patiently, waiting for her to finish. "Sorry," she choked "What can I get you?"
"A coke and rum, please," he said with an affectionate smile. The kind Harry always used to give her. She refused to believe this was her friend, though.
"Of course," she whispered, smiling tightly. By the time Helen put the drink in front of the man, both costumers were staring at the television and at Nora Thoth, who was still giving her special report.
"It's terrible, isn't it?" she asked, trying to gage what side they were on.
Green Eyes looked at her almost guiltily, but when he spoke there was no readable emotion in his voice "Yes, it is." A moment, then, "I'm Hal Peters."
"Helen Green," she returned, locking eyes with him. She didn't know what was wrong with her. She never introduced herself to random strangers. And above all she always avoided eye contact. But then again, most random strangers didn't have oily black hair or eyes that were fresh-pickled-toad-green. Actually, their similarities to people she left long ago was starting to scare her and self preservation was kicking in. Their staring contest was cut short, however, when a pair of tattooed arms wrapped themselves around her waist.
"Hey baby, your face could launch my ship," a deep voice rumbled in her ear.
She rammed her elbow in his chest mercilessly, sighed, and said "Mike! How many times do I have to tell you I'm engaged?" It was one of the few things she didn't lie about, actually.
The airport was overwhelming. Or maybe it was just the situation. After all, they might never see each other again after this.
"I love you, Ron," she whispered into his neck, tears streaming down her face.
"I love you too, Hermione," his voice was thick with held back tears. He pulled back to look into her eyes, and whispered fiercely: "And don't forget it. Don't you ever forget I love you."
He gripped her tightly, as though she was his anchor. Then she was touching his face, memorizing him.
"Never," she choked, leaning in to kiss him.
"Flight 305 to Chicago will start boarding in five minutes," droned the cursed voice on the loudspeaker.
Ron withdrew from the kiss, "That's me," he whispered against her lips.
"I can't believe you have to leave me," she said hoarsely.
"It's what Harry told us to do, love," he was justifying to himself as much as he was to her. He didn't know if he could bear to leave her in New York City all by herself. He kissed her again, trying to convince himself she would make it.
"Flight 305 to Chicago is now boarding."
"Ron," Hermione said roughly, pushing him away, "Ron, you're going to miss your flight."
"I know; just one more thing," he was fishing in his pockets now, "I was going to wait to ask you, but I need to know now.
"Hermione Granger, I love you and living without you in my life is going to be utter hell. I need to know you'll be there when this war is over and I need to know that you'll be mine. So…will you marry me? After the war?" He didn't get down on one knee, and he was hardly eloquent, but he did put the modest diamond ring on her finger and he did kiss her with all the passion and love he could manage without hurting her.
"Yes," she sobbed, "yes, I love you, I'm yours." She kissed him back with all her love and fear and anguish.
"Last call to board flight 305 to Chicago."
With one last soft peck on the lips, Ron was gone.
After 6 years she still wore the ring. When it had gotten too big (after all, she wasn't exactly living off of a Hogwarts diet anymore), she put it on a chain around her neck and wore it that way. It was one of the only things that remained of Hermione Granger.
Mike scoffed. "You've been engaged to Mystery Man since I've known you and don't even wear the ring anymore, Helen! Give me a break! Or at least give me a chance!"
She only laughed at his desperation, "Sorry, no. You're a great guy Mike, just not for me."
He just rolled his eyes and said to the two men at the bar watching them with interest, "Women, right?"
The pair just forced a smile.
"Mike, would you do me a favor and grab my jacket? I just want to finish with these gentlemen before I go," she said sweetly.
"Sure. Do you mind if grab a sandwich first?"
"No go ahead, take your time," she said affectionately. When he was gone, she turned to the men sharply and said, "I am leaving in less than five minutes. I don't know who you think you are, or what your business is here, but if you follow me home, so help me God, I'll—"
"Give it a bloody rest, 'Mione," The younger of the two men said tiredly.
She gasped, "What did you just call me?"
"Surely you can't be that dim, Gran—Green," sneered Saskia, who she was now positive was Snape.
"Get away from me," she whispered harshly, backing away from the counter.
"'Mione, don't be ridiculous," 'Hal' said in that same tired voice.
"Stop calling me that!" she demanded almost hysterically. "No one calls me that!"
"You mean I can't call you that anymore?" He asked almost patronizingly, "but I've called you that since sixth year."
"Stop it! I don't know who you think you are, but you most certainly aren't—"
He swiped his fringe out of his eyes before she could finish, revealing an angry red lightening bolt over his right eye, "Harry Potter?" he whispered softly.
"No. Harry left us!"
"I promised I'd come back, didn't I?"
"How do I know it's you and not some crazy Death Eater?" Even as she was saying this, she knew that if it was a crazy Death Eater, she'd be dead already.
Harry smiled and drew a sliver medallion out from under his shirt. It hung on a sturdy leather chord. He held it out for her to examine. Gingerly, she walked back over to him and examined it.
"Is this a…?" she asked in wonder, looking into his eyes for confirmation.
"Yes," there was a hit of pride in his voice.
"They can't be duplicated," she stated.
"I know."
"So that's where you've been then?"
"Yes."
Suddenly she flung her arms around him, marveling that he still smelled the same after all these years. "God I've missed you," she breathed. Harry just laughed warmly and wrapped his arms around her tightly.
"I've missed you, too," he whispered.
"Touching. Really. Now moving on, if you will, Peters?" Snape bit out snidely. Hermione slipped out of Harry's arms, rolling her eyes.
"You know what, Saskia? You really are a catty old woman!" Harry retorted.
"I beg your pardon you sniveling little whelp of a—"
Hermione giggled at their banter as she took her apron off and bunched it under the counter. "Ready, fellas?" she asked.
"Where, pray tell, do you plan on taking us, Green?" demanded Snape, ever cynical
Hermione just rolled her eyes and smiled, "My place, of course!"
Harry and Snape shared a look at her statement that Hermione chose to miss.
"Be right back, boys, just have to grab my jacket," she said impishly. She turned and walked straight into Mike.
"Your jacket, love muffin," he said sweetly. Hermione took it from him and flipped him off for being obnoxious. She slipped her worn leather bomber on then hesitantly threw her arms around her friend.
"Thanks, Mike," he looked at her funny and she just smiled and continued, "for everything." She pecked him on the cheek and started for the door, closely followed by the two men from the bar.
Hermione stood outside the rundown shack that was her apartment building facing her two companions with a cigarette in hand (stop it, Hermione, it's poison! Harry said). She smiled bitterly and said, "I'm just warning you guys, my flat is a bit shabby looking. Oh! and if my roommate is in, she's probably high—just so you know."
Harry looked at her incredulously.
Hermione wasn't exaggerating when she said her flat was shabby. In fact, she might have been a little too generous with that description. It was one of the smallest apartments her companions had ever seen, with walls that were probably once taupe. Now, however, they were too filthy to tell. The couch in the middle of the tiny seating area was moth eaten and dirty. She let them in and offered them a seat (they declined) and went to the fridge for a can of diet coke. When she was done, she had to kick the door four times before it stayed shut.
"I must say—you call yourself Helen now?—I must say, Helen, that I never thought you'd live in a place like this," Harry said stiffly, trying to stay polite.
Hermione just rolled her eyes and plopped on the couch, "Go ahead and say what you mean, Hal."
He paused then said: "Well, it is a bit of a dump," he tried to make it sound as nice as possible.
"It's not like I had much of choice, did I?" she asked with more bitterness than she intended.
"Sorry," Harry muttered, he would have said more, had Hermione not interrupted him.
"No, it's alright. I brought this on myself. You know, at first I thought I'd just go to University, then get a relatively successful job. But then I figured that would be the first place any Deatheater would look, right? So I decided to go for the opposite. I have three jobs: I work at the bar at nights, then on weekdays I work at this new age coffee shop and then a community library on weekends. I'm struggling through a mediocre college (where I find the time, I'm not really sure), and live in an illegal apartment, with a woman of questionable occupation.
"It was difficult in the beginning, but now, it seems almost normal, which is weird. Looking back I see that I have changed so completely, but I feel like somehow, I haven't at all. Like I took time off from being Hermione, or something. It sounds odd, I know but…" She spoke quickly, as though hoping that if she got it out fast enough she wouldn't have to relive the terrible memories she had acquired over the years. She did this until the end, when she slowed down considerably, like she was talking only to herself.
"I know what you mean," Harry said encouragingly, "I feel the same way."
There was thick silence until: "Yes, well this is just lovely," Snape barked cynically, "but we need to get going if we're go to unite the rest of the Golden Trio and get back to the UK unnoticed."
"We're going to find him?" Hermione asked hopefully, looking at Harry for confirmation.
"Yeah, our flight leaves in two hours actually. We've already bought you a ticket and everything. I'm assuming you don't need to pack much?" Harry said lightly.
"We're leaving now?" Hermione demanded, standing up quickly, "I can't just go missing; people will start looking for me! How will Tanya pay the rent without me? I didn't give notice! I have a project due! I need to pack! What if we miss the—"
"Helen! Calm down. We've set up a charm so that when you leave no one will remember you. Everything you've done and fixed and changed will stay. But no one's going to remember you existed." Harry told her. Although this was meant for comfort, it somehow depressed her. Harry continued softly, "It's for their safety and yours, Helen."
She nodded and smiled, pushing her thoughts aside, "Well, then, I'd better get packed!"
An hour later, Hermione, Harry and Snape were queuing for their Chicago bound plane. Helen could barely contain herself, she was so fantastically happy.
"For God's sake, Green, would you stop acting like a five year old?" Snape barked. "Put that contraption of yours on and listen to some of your infernal music, but do stop acting like an idiot!"
Hermione just stuck her tongue out and pulled her Discman out of her carry on bag (which was her only piece of luggage), and did as she was instructed.
When they got on the plane, Harry discretely set up a sound barrier (wandlessly so as not to attract any unwanted attention) and began a briefing his team.
"Alright, he is going by Reid Williams and he's currently earning his PhD in Economics at Northwestern University. He's in his fifth year of classes," He paused to let his information sink in.
"In order to pay for his tuition (though he's there mostly on scholarship) he works at the university library, which is hopefully where we'll find him when we get there.
"Also, we're going to have to change clothing in order to blend in with collegiate atmosphere."
Hermione was beaming. Ron was educated. They were going to see each other again. But what if she wasn't good enough anymore? She thought as her smiled faltered. What if he had found someone else? What if she disappointed him? These doubts plagued her during the remainder of the flight, after Harry called an end to their brief meeting and she resumed listening to the Pixies with slightly less enthusiasm than before.
When they landed at Midway, in Chicago, Hermione was dreading seeing Ron again. Harry noticed this of course, he was only waiting to discuss it with her without Snape. They stepped off the plane and headed straight for a bathroom (a lady's room, so as not to alarm Hermione) under a notice-me-not charm, again courtesy of Harry. They piled into a handicapped stall, where Harry worked his magic. Literally.
When they stepped out of the bathroom, Harry was looking relaxed in bootcut jeans, an oxford shirt, and a fitted sweater, and Snape wore black trousers, and tailored pinstriped over a cashmere sweater. Harry had put Hermione in jeans and a cable knit sweater and heeled boots; her hair was in a soft bob, its texture tamed to loose curls. Harry had also sized her engagement ring to fit her properly, so she was wearing it again on her left hand. They hoped they'd at least blend in.
They arrived at the University an hour later and briskly made their way to the library, hoping beyond all hope Ron was there. They entered the library, each carrying a bag of some sort holding books and technology and set about making it look like they had a purpose other than finding Reid Williams.
Harry went up to the information desk and smiled disarmingly at the girl working. "Hi, could you tell me if a friend of mine is working today?" he said pleasantly. The girl swooned.
"Sure, what's his name?"
"Reid Williams."
She looked regretful, "No, not today, sorry. But if you look around, you might find him."
"Thanks anyway…"
"Tiffany," she giggled.
"Thanks, Tiffany," Harry concluded charmingly.
"If you need anything else, please don't hesitate to ask."
"Thank you," he said giving her one last dashing smile as he turned back to his companions. Hermione rolled her eyes and Snape sneered
"So we probably want to look at the computers or in the econ section," Hermione whispered.
"Right," Harry said with a curt nod.
After a half an hour of looking for Ron, they were starting to loose hope. That was until Hermione heard a laugh that was most distinctly Ronald's. She dashed over, followed closely by Harry and more leisurely by Snape. There he was, sitting at a rectangular table with 5 other people, books strewn around them. A blonde girl sitting to his right, was awfully close to him, Hermione noticed. She berated herself for thinking that and focused on Ron. The years had most definitely been good to him, in a way that they hadn't been for Hermione. He was young and handsome looking, with the same dashing presence as a red headed Jude Law. Yes that's right, her fiancé was gorgeous. Was she good enough? Harry noticed Hermione stop short of her destination and grabbed her by the shoulders and turned her to face him.
"Helen," he whispered passionately, "you are a beautiful, strong, smart young woman, and that has not and will not change. If he can't see that anymore, or has forgotten, he's not worth it."
Hermione smiled, "Thanks, Hal."
Harry nodded, then grinned impishly and said, "Now lets go get lover boy."
Hermione rolled her eyes and walked over to the book stakes surrounding Ron and his friends.
When Harry and Hermione walked within Ron's vision, they immediately caught his eye. As his friends prattled on about something completely unrelated to what they should be doing, Ron found himself zoning them out in favor of contemplating the two strangers near him. They looked an awful lot like—
"Reid!" called the girl to his right.
"Yeah?"
"Baby, are you going to take me out this Saturday?" She asked
He rolled his eyes, and in his peripheral vision, he noticed the recognizable woman stiffen. "Lynn, how many times do I have to tell you that we're not dating?"
Lynn pouted, "Reid, if you're gay, you can tell me. I won't mind. In fact I'd welcome it! At least then there would be a legitimate reason for your frigidness!"
It was obvious that everyone sitting at the table was familiar with this lecture.
"I mean, were does your girlfriend live? In Canada?" asked a black man sitting across from Ron, mimicking the girl.
"You won't even tell me her name!" a brunette girl continued.
"And we've never once met her!" added another guy with a smirk.
"This is not funny!" Lynn huffed as everyone at the table laughed.
The two strangers were smiling now, even though they tried their mightiest not to. Then, with some encouragement from Harry, Hermione went in for the kill.
"Excuse me," she said brightly addressing the table, nervously twisting the ring on her left hand. Ron's attention was immediately drawn to it, of course. He looked at it in shock, completely not hearing the woman ask if they were using a certain book. He looked up into the twinkling brown eyes that were trained on him hopefully. He searched her face for confirmation. At her smile, he leapt from his chair and ran to her. He reached her and hugged her, swinging her around happily. Upon setting her down, they kissed so passionately and so tenderly and with so much love that by the time they were done, both of them were crying.
"God, I missed you," he whispered, his lips still on her mouth.
She was stroking his face now, "I've missed you too."
Their moment was broken by his friends observing him with shock
"Reid?" Lynn demanded.
"Aren't you going to introduce us?" the black man asked.
Ron smiled brightly, "Everyone this is my fiancée, He—"
"Helen Green," Hermione cut of quickly.
"Right!" Ron said catching on much quicker than was expected of him, "Helen. Helen, these are my friends Lynn," he gestured to the flirt, "Roger" he pointed to a blond man who hadn't spoken yet, "Raul" the black man, "Mindy," the brunette, "and Mark" the smirking one.
"It's nice to meet all of you," Hermione said politely. A chorus of "pleased to met you" s followed.
"Who's Mr. Tall, Dark and Handsome behind you?" Mindy asked.
Hermione turned to find Harry leaning on a book shelf. He stepped forward.
"Hal Peters," he said charmingly. Ron looked at Hermione questioningly, her nod was almost imperceptible. He unwrapped himself for Hermione, who was now a bit apprehensive about her friends' unavoidable reunion.
"Mate?" he asked doubtfully, not believing that Harry was in front of him.
"Yeah?" Harry asked hesitantly.
Ron stepped forward and embraced his best friend and said, so only Harry could hear, "I thought you were dead."
Harry laughed and returned cheekily with, "mate, that's the thing about me, I always live."
Ron laughed and punched Harry lightly in the arm and muttered "Prat," underneath his breath. Harry chose to be the bigger person and ignored his comment.
Instead he asked, "Helen, where's Saskia?"
"I'm right here, Peters, no need to worry," Snape said dryly, walking around the corner with several books in his hands.
Ron wheeled around, looking flabbergasted. "Not you!" he moaned without thinking. Hermione and Harry just laughed and Snape rolled is eyes. Ron's friends were looking at the whole situation with confused interest.
"Reid, love," Hermione said after a short lapse, the kind were there are so many questions that need to be asked that one opts for silence, "We all need to talk to you."
Ron looked curiously, and then made excuses to his friends who were still watching awkwardly, and lead his three visitors away.
Once they were in a secluded alcove, Harry again cast a privacy shield around them.
"Reid," Harry started apprehensively, "it's time to go home."
TBC
NAME GUIDE
HELEN: Possibly from either Greek 'ελενη (helene) "torch" or "corposant", or Greek σεληνη (selene) "moon". In Greek mythology Helen was the daughter of Zeus and Leda, whose kidnapping by Paris was the cause of the Trojan War. The name was also borne by Saint Helena, mother of the Roman emperor Constantine, who supposedly found the True Cross during a trip to Jerusalem. Another famous bearer was Helen Keller, the American author and lecturer who was both blind and deaf.
NORA: pet name of Honora, which is Late Latin name which meant "honour". This was the name of an emperor of the West Roman Empire and also the name of four popes, and Eleanor,
From the French form of the Provençal name Alienor, which is most likely a Germanic name of unknown meaning, though it is possibly a form of HELEN (see above). This name was borne by Eleanor of Aquitaine (12th century), the wife of both Louis VII, the king of France, and Henry II, the king of England. More recently it was borne by the wife of American president Franklin Roosevelt.
THOTH: Greek form of Egyptian Tehuti, perhaps meaning "he who balances". In Egyptian mythology Thoth was the god of the moon, science, magic, speech and writing. He was often depicted as a man with the head of an ibis.
SIMON: From the Greek form of the Hebrew name Shim'on which meant "hearkening" or "listening". The New Testament presents Simon, also known as Peter (a name given to him by Jesus), as the most important of the apostles. This is also the name of several other characters in the Bible, including the man who carried the cross for Jesus.
SASKIA: Possibly from the Germanic element sachs "Saxon". The Saxons were a Germanic tribe, their name ultimately deriving from the Germanic word sahs meaning "knife".
HAL: Medieval pet name for Harry
PETER: Derived from the Greek Πετρος (Petros) meaning "stone". This is a translation used in most versions of the Bible of the name Cephas (meaning "stone" in Aramaic) which was given to the apostle Simon by Jesus (compare Matthew 16:18 and John 1:42). Simon Peter was the most prominent of the apostles during Jesus's ministry and is considered by some to be the first pope. This name was also borne by Peter the Great, the czar of Russia who defeated Sweden in the Great Northern War in the 18th century. A famous fictional bearer is Peter Pan, the boy who refused to grow up in J. M. Barrie's play.
REID: From a Scottish surname meaning "ruddy" in Old English
WILLIAM: From the Germanic name Wilhelm, which was composed of the elements wil "will, desire" and helm "helmet, protection". The name was introduced to Britain by the Normans. It has belonged to several rulers of England, Prussia, and Germany, including William the Conqueror, the first Norman king of England. Another famous bearer was William Tell, a legendary 14th-century hero from Switzerland. In the literary world it has been borne by dramatist William Shakespeare and poet William Blake, as well as contemporary authors William Faulkner and William S. Burroughs.
A/N: And yes, I know I should be working on Phoenix Throne (my other story) but I need to rework the last few chapters of it, as I have written myself into a block.
I want 5 reviews before I continue.
Love,
Lucia