Disclaimer: Guess What! I own everything. Everything! I am very rich and very clever and created Harry Potter. It's true.

Okay, it's crap. But what are YOU going to do about, punk? SUE ME? Do it, then.

Hello, kiddies, long time no see. Here is my trillionth story, (this one might actually get posted, mind) and much to the great pleasure of Legs, (That sounds funny – ALLEGRA, then) it is H/Hr. (well, obviously you would know that because you're the one who clicked on this story and that's what the summary says. Der.) Sorry, I tend to crap on a fair bit. Just read the bloody story and REVIEW. REVIEW. REVIEW.


Heroes Returned

Chapter One: Miserable

Hermione Granger stared aimlessly at the blank wall she faced. Head in hands, she blinked subconsciously, waking her from her day dream. Yawning, she caught a glimpse of the photos on her desk. There was a Muggle photo of her parents, a happy, smiling one of her and Ginny, taken on Ginny's last birthday and a large, wooden framed photo of her and the Weasleys taken last Christmas. They had been so good to her over the last two years. What with… nothing, she wasn't going to think about that.

Thinking of the Weasleys, she glanced over at the clock on her desk. Twenty five past five. Twenty five past five? Had she really been sitting there for twenty five minutes?

Jumping up from her chair, Hermione froze. She had five minutes to dress, tidy up her office and get herself to the Burrow. Easy. Picking up her wand from the table she muttered a spell which replaced her current clothes with a black skirt, white shirt and pink cardigan. She looked down at her clothing. She looked about three times her actual age of 20. Maybe that was why she didn't have a boyfriend. Who was she kidding? She knew exactly why she didn't have a boyfriend.

Twenty seven past five. Hermione looked around the office she was so proud of. Her position at the Ministry of Magic had entitled her to a somewhat spacious office with a window (not that it actually reflected the real world). She loved her job. She was very lucky to be appointed to such a prestigious job. Head Researcherfor Creature Rights and Entitlements in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures was a respectable and high-paying job and she loved every second of her work there. But on a day like today not even her dream job could brighten her spirits.

After a quick tidy of her office, Hermione grabbed her bag and readied herself for apparation. Before she knew it, she was standing on the front doorstep of the burrow, shivering in the increasingly chilly night air. While knocking at the door, Hermione smiled subliminally. She loved her Friday dinners with the Weasleys. After ten or so seconds, Mrs Weasley appeared at the door, beaming.

"Come in, dear! No use standing out there!" She gushed, ushering the girl through the door. "Come through, come through! Ginny, Ron, Hermione's here," She shouted up the stairs.

Ginny was first to dash down the stairs. Embracing Hermione, she whispered through the Hermione's wild hair, "Are you alright? I do know what to day is, you know."

Hermione's eyes widened. It had never crossed her mind that anyone else would remember such a date. Quickly acknowledging her stupidity, she drew back meekly smiling. As the two made their way into the lounge room, Hermione mentally kicked herself. Of course everyone would remember.

"'Mione," Ron called from behind her. Hugging her tightly, he also whispered, "I know what day it is, you know. You must feel terrible, Herms, you certainly look it. Hey, I won't make a big deal, but you know I'm here, right?"

Thanks, Ron, subtle as ever.

"Come and have a drink, Hermione, dear." Mrs Weasley called from the kitchen. Hermione followed Ron into the kitchen. "We've got Pumpkin juice, butter beer…"

"Fire whiskey…" Ron offered, reaching into the cupboard behind his mother and pulling out a bottle before joining Ginny in the lounge room.

Mrs Weasley threw him a disapproving look before turning back to Hermione. "Anything you want, dear." She smiled.

"Pumpkin juice would be fine, Molly." Hermione replied earnestly.

Handing her a goblet Mrs Weasley smiled sadly. "Tea'll be up soon, dear. And don't worry; I know what day it is, too."

Hermione smiled incredulously. Did everyone know? Of course Mrs Weasley would know. It had hit the woman pretty hard when it happened. But nobody had suffered like Hermione. Maybe she was just being selfish thinking that this day wouldn't be important to anyone else. Bloody self pity. It was eating her up inside.

Staring into her goblet, Hermione didn't notice Mr Weasley's entrance. "Evening, all." He called, peeling of his work robes. Mr Weasley still hadn't been promoted and it broke Hermione's heart to think that such a hard working, enthusiastic wizard was stuck in a dingy office were he was virtually useless. "How are you, Hermione?" He asked cheerfully.

"Fine, thanks." She smiled unconvincingly, avoiding the gapes of Ginny and Ron. Apparently everyone - bar Mr Weasley - knew what today was.

"Is this it, then?" Hermione asked, addressing Ron.

"Nah, Fred and George are on their way. But Charlie's been held up with work and Bill and Fleur are still in France."

Hermione was not surprised that Ron didn't mention Percy. The Weasleys hadn't heard from him since March – and it was almost August. He hadn't taken the downfall of Cornelius Fudge very well. It had shaken his haughtiness and proven him to be an utterly blind fool.

Hermione nodded and sat down in front of the fire when it suddenly turned green. Through the emerald flames, out came Fred and George, dressed in their finery – unfortunately in the case, 'finery' meant turquoise dragonhide jackets and boots. Regrettably the success of their joke shop in Diagon Alley had meant substantial ego enlargements for the twins. All the same, they managed to make to the family dinner every week.

"Hello there, Hermione." They greeted, now fully equipped with they felt must be suavity.

"Hi," She replied with a sigh. Despite their new found wealth and expensive clothes Fred and George Weasley were about as smooth as Ron, who at this point in time was throwing peanuts in the air and trying to catch them in his mouth. Nice.

Thankfully, Ginny grabbed Hermione by the arm and dragged her outside before either of the twins had the opportunity to envelop Hermione in one of their tedious ramblings about the growth and development of their business.

Grateful, Hermione produced the most wholehearted smile she given all day. Ginny was seemingly unimpressed. "What's the matter?"

Hermione's smile faded. "You know very well what the matter is, Gin." She said stonily.

Ginny rolled her eyes. "This is insane Hermione! It's been two years. That's a long time. Give up. He's not coming back!" Ginny said much louder than she intended to. She looked startled by her own words. "Look… I didn't… I'm sorry…" She stammered. It was too late, a solitary tear rolled down Hermione's cheek.

"No, you're right. I know Gin. I s'pose I've know for years. But it doesn't help in the slightest. I'm still miserable." Hermione collapsed on a grubby garden bench, more tears erupting with her words. Ginny sat down cautiously beside her.

"What terrible timing. You having to come here and be surrounded by all of us today, of all days." Ginny commented, staring out into the darkness.

"It's not your fault!" Hermione turned around to face her friend, the anger within her creeping up again. "It's his! He didn't have to leave! No-one forced him! He promised me, Gin, he promised he'd come back. And what does he do? Disappears. Runs away. Leaves… leaves me all alone." She whispered. Hermione completely broke down at this point. Hot tears streamed down her face as she buried her face in her knees. Ginny wrapped an arm around and comforted her as best she could. After what seemed like an age, but was really ten or so minutes, Mrs Weasley's voice broke the eerie silence in the garden.

"Dinner time!"

"Can you stall her for a while? I look terrible." Hermione pleaded from under her mass of hair.

"Sure." Ginny got up gently and went inside, leaving Hermione alone and cold on the bench. Taking a deep breath, Hermione sat up and wiped her eyes on the cuffs of her cardigan sleeves. Standing up, she took another deep breath and steadied herself, before brushing out her skirt and stepping back inside the house.

Eyes to the floor she began to apologise. "Sorry, I needed a bit of…" She realised the room was deadly quiet. She looked up. It soon became obvious why the room was filled with silence. Harry Potter stood motionless in the middle of the room.

"Happy Birthday, Harry," whispered Hermione, before collapsing tothe floor.


Bet you didn't see that one coming. But then again this a fine piece of writing. Not as great as I would like but if I don't post it now I'll never post it and we don't want that. One thing I would like to say: I hate you Prerna, the evil cow who is absolutely against shipping altogether. Something I do not understand. I don't really hate you, you're just very wrong. VERY WRONG.

PS: Review… or PERISH. I'm serious. I KNOW WERE YOU LIVE. (Not really, but I will get violent – and throw things… sharp things)