Anywhere but in Between

As always, I own nothing but the plot. Thank you again to my faithful reviewers. I really cannot tell you how much it means to me to read your words of encouragement. The other day, I checked the reviews, and I got the biggest smile on my face. Again, thank you to Bhekie, Lv3nd3r, DracoM'sGrl, JLaLa, belanna30, mysticalecho, amarisrl, orlifan18, and aschowin. I promise I will try and make the chapters longer. I wish I could do this all in one shot, but the length of the piece usually reflects the time I have that day. You guys are the best!

Chapter 8 – Keeping Secrets

Harry had chosen the restaurant because it was well known for its food, but never seemed busy. He had never really gotten used to eating in public, since he'd never liked the stares that people usually threw his way.

He didn't have to wait long before Ginny arrived. She came bursting through the door with the usual Weasley urgency, and the fact made Harry smile. Some things, no matter how long he'd been away, never changed.

She tossed her purse onto the table and sank into the chair in front of her.

"I'm so sorry, Harry. The seminar lasted a lot longer than it was supposed to and –"

"It's okay, Ginny. I just got here a few minutes ago myself," he assured her, sliding a menu toward her. "A guy at the shop says that we have to try their steak. He practically talked my ear off about it yesterday."

Ginny shot him a grin before her face disappeared behind the menu. "I could eat just about anything now, but a steak sounds heavenly."

Harry smiled again, before he could stop himself. He'd made a promise to himself to stop acting like a grinning fool around her, because he felt like all he'd done since they'd seen each other was smile idiotically at her.

Or whenever he thought about her.

"So, how was the seminar?" he asked, putting his menu down.

"Oh, you know. The usual stuff," she replied.

She finally lowered her menu, and Harry was momentarily thrown by the vibrant color of her hair. Was it just him, or had it gotten shinier since he'd seen her last?

"What?" she asked, scrunching up her nose.

"Sorry?"

"Well, you're looking at me funny," she said, her lips curving into a smile.

"Oh, sorry," he said, mentally congratulating himself on his razor-sharp conversational skills. "You just look so different from what I remember."

"Is that good or bad?" she questioned lightly. At his dumbfounded expression, she burst out laughing. "Come on, I can't be that hideous."

Harry snorted. "You were never hideous. Remember how many guys Ron and I had to chase away your sixth year?"

Ginny rolled her eyes, but she was smiling. "Yeah, thanks for that, by the way."

"Your welcome."

She laughed again, and Harry realized it was one of the most infectious sounds he had ever heard. He was valiantly trying to come up with something else humorous to say just to hear it again when she spoke first.

"I got a letter from my mum yesterday," she said, her eyes practically dancing now.

"Oh? Good news?" he asked, almost wishing he could read the letter. Somehow, he wanted to see Mrs. Weasley's neat scrawl very badly.

"The best news. Bill and Fleur are getting married," she said joyously, her smile lighting up her entire face now.

"Really? That's brilliant," Harry exclaimed, fondly remembering Fleur from the Triwizard Tournament. "She's going to make a beautiful bride."

Ginny looked full to bursting, and it did Harry good to see it. He had been so worried about the Weasleys after all they had lost, and a wedding was wonderful news indeed.

"When is it set for?" he asked, seeing their waiter heading over to the table.

"Some time in October, I believe," she replied.

Harry nodded and a sudden wave of homesickness washed over him. The whole family would be there, and he would be stuck here in his cold apartment, wondering about it the entire time. He reminded himself that it had been his choice to leave, and now he had to deal with the decision.

Their waiter stopped at the table to take their order. As he was leaving, he shot Ginny an appreciative look that she missed completely.

Harry hadn't, however.

The protectiveness he'd always felt for her came rushing to the surface, and he had to stop himself from telling the waiter off. Instead, he opted to survey the rest of the diners, wondering if any of them were looking Ginny over as well.

He couldn't blame them, really, if they were. She had always been a pretty girl, with her long, shiny hair and flawless complexion. Now, though, two years later, her face had matured into a graceful, delicate beauty that left him wondering if she was being chased by the entire male population of Bulgaria.

"Are you going to take anyone special to the wedding?" he found himself asking suddenly.

Ginny regarded him closely again, and then she shook her head. "There isn't anyone special. This internship has taken up all my free time."

"Oh."

There was a slight pause in conversation, and Harry found himself toying with his napkin.

"What about you?" she asked, piercing the silence.

"Pardon?"

"Is there anyone special for you?" she asked, putting an elbow on the table and resting her cheek in her hand. The motion was oddly endearing, and Harry gave her a lopsided smile.

"Are you kidding? I'm probably the last person who should be seeing anyone. Too much baggage," he added, as flippantly as he could.

Ginny kept her eyes trained on him, not smiling along with the joke. "Everyone has baggage. You shouldn't keep that from stopping you from seeing anyone if you are interested."

Harry shrugged. "Well, that's the problem. I'm not interested in anyone."

Their waiter returned with their drinks, and Harry stared coldly at the man as he placed Ginny's drink in front of her entirely too slowly.

When the waiter did not immediately leave, Harry cleared his throat and barked out a short, "Thank you."

The man glared at Harry as he retreated, making Harry seriously doubt that his food would be in perfect condition when it arrived.

Ginny laughed and Harry's attention turned back to her.

"It's good to see some things don't change," she said, smiling openly at him.

The smile changed his mood instantaneously, and Harry shrugged again. "With Ron not here, I guess it will be my job to fend of the stupid gits who come around."

Ginny looked heavenward, as if asking for help from above, and muttered, "I'm going to be an old maid, aren't I?"

Harry laughed, sipping at his drink, then saw that the waiter was leering at Ginny from his post near the kitchen, and he scowled. The idea of her being an old maid sounded pretty good right about now.

After dinner, Harry walked her back to her dormitory after much insisting and arguing.

"What did you think? That I would let you walk back alone at this time of night?" he scolded lightly as they walked down the brightly lit street.

Ginny groaned out loud. "Yes, because this area is definitely seedy, isn't it?" she retorted, gesturing around her at the quaint shops and well-kept homes lining the street.

"Whatever, Ginny. I may have been gone for a while, but I do remember my manners."

"Oh, you had manners?" she teased, bumping him lightly with her arm.

"Ha ha."

They walked along in companionable silence for a while, each lost in their own thoughts. Suddenly, Ginny stopped, and Harry had to retrace a few steps to be even with her again.

"What is it?" he asked.

"I can't believe I didn't think of it before," she said, almost to herself.

"What?"

"You should come to the wedding with me," she stated, turning to face him.

Harry felt like a deer in headlights. Suddenly, the thought of seeing everyone again after so long seemed daunting and scary.

"I don't know," he answered finally. "I think that may be awkward for everyone involved. I don't want to take away from Bill and Fleur's day."

"You wouldn't," she assured him, lightly touching his arm. "We could go a few days ahead of time, get everyone used to seeing you again, and then it won't be so weird."

Harry shook his head. "I just don't feel that enough time has passed – "

"For what?" she said suddenly, her voice tinged with mild annoyance. "How long exactly were you planning on hiding away here?"

Harry stared at her unblinking for a moment, not sure how to respond. She had said she understood his reasons for leaving and staying away, and now she seemed angry that he wasn't willing to go home for a visit.

"Ginny, I'm not hiding. I just needed some time, and some space," he explained.

She stared even harder at him, and removed her hand from his arm. "You weren't ever planning on going home, were you?"

Harry opened his mouth to respond, and found that he didn't have an answer for her.

She was right. If two years and five countries weren't enough time and space, maybe he had never had any intentions of going back.

"Harry," she continued quietly, "Hermione and Ron, all of our friends, my family, they all want to see you so badly. You can't stay away from everyone forever. They are a part of your life whether you like it or not, and unless you want to cut them all out of your life for good, you will need to face them again. Why not do it when there is something wonderful to celebrate?"

He considered her words carefully as they continued their walk to her dormitory. Could he do it? Could he go back and face what he hadn't been able to face two years ago?

They reached the entrance to the dormitory, and Ginny faced him again.

"Please think about it. They want to see you, and I know you want to see them. I haven't told anyone you are here because that's your business, but I don't know if I can lie if they ask me outright if I've had news from you. We all used to ask each other that all the time."

Harry kept his gaze on the cobblestones near her feet. "I promise I'll think about it. Okay?"

When she didn't answer, he looked up and met her eyes. She was considering him very carefully, and she tried to offer him a small smile, but failed.

"Okay, Harry," she said quietly.

"Hey," he said, suddenly afraid that she would never want to meet up with him again after tonight, "Do you want to have lunch on Monday?" he asked, kicking at a small stone near his shoe. His eyes never wavered from hers, however, and when a small smile played at the corner of her mouth he continued. "That is, if you can stomach seeing me twice in as many days?"

"If I can, I think everyone else can, too," she threw in before turning away from him and making her way to the door.

Harry shook his head. He should have known better. If the Weasleys were anything, it was persistent.

"Goodnight, Harry," she called back when she reached the doorway.

"G'night Ginny."

He waited until she was safely inside, then turned and reluctantly headed for his apartment. He had a lot of serious thinking to do, and he wasn't exactly looking forward to the long, probably sleepless night he had ahead of him.

Ron knocked on Hermione's door early Saturday morning. When she finally answered, Ron laughed as he took in her sleepy appearance.

"Well, this is a first," he commented as he entered her flat. "Here I am, all bright-eyed and ready to go, and you look as if you just got in."

Hermione groaned at him and he laughed again. She had never been much of a morning person.

"I'll make some coffee, and you can get ready," he said, making his way to the kitchen. She followed him and sat on the other end of the breakfast counter.

"What are we going to do today?" she asked, yawning halfway through her sentence. Ron threw a grin over his shoulder as he busied himself with her coffee maker.

"I was thinking we could stop by and see Fred and George this afternoon. They have a new product that they're unveiling today, and I told them I'd try and make it," he said.

Hermione smiled despite her reservations about the twins' joke shop. "That sounds like fun, actually. I haven't seen them in so long."

"I know. We're all so scattered around now, and they are getting so busy now that school is out," he said, leaning against the counter.

It was then that he noticed the flowers. The daisies stood proudly in their little vase next to the stove, and he pointed at them. "Nice flowers."

Hermione's eyes opened in full alertness so suddenly that he was taken aback. She now looked wide-awake, and she sat up straighter in her chair. "Thanks."

"I didn't even know you liked daisies," he said, watching her carefully now. Something was off, and he couldn't place what it was.

"I don't, really, I just, well – they were a gift from someone at the hospital," she said hurriedly, a slight tinge staining her cheeks.

Ron nodded slowly, wondering why she seemed so nervous about a patient giving her flowers.

"Oh," he said simply, knowing that there had to be more to it than that. He decided to let it go for the meanwhile, because she was looking as if she were about to bolt out of her flat and leave him standing right where he was.

"Yes, well, I'm going to go get ready so we can get going," she said, sliding quickly off the chair and wrapping her robe tighter around her.

Ron watched her go, eyes narrowed in suspicion. When she had disappeared down the hallway into her room, he looked all over the counter for signs of a card, but came up empty.

When she returned fifteen minutes later, he was sipping at his own coffee as he handed her a steaming mug.

"Thanks," she smiled at him gratefully as she took a tentative sip of the hot liquid.

"So, late night last night?" he asked, and was surprised when she practically choked on her coffee.

She sputtered for a moment, then reached for a napkin to wipe at her lips. Ron's suspicions grew as he watched her fumble all over herself. Hermione never did anything unless the action was calculated and sure.

"What's going on?" he asked, his brow furrowed in confusion. "Why are you acting all weird?"

Hermione set her mug down and wiped at the coffee that had spilled over onto the counter. "Nothing's going on, and I'm most certainly not acting weird," she said shortly.

At least Ron knew how to deal with this Hermione.

"All I asked was if you had a late night last night, and you got all strange," he teased mildly. "Work couldn't have been that bad."

A dozen emotions fleeted across her face for the briefest of moments, before she answered him. "Right, work. Well, I didn't get in until well after midnight, so I guess I'm a bit more tired than I usually am on the weekend," she said quickly.

In the next instant, she moved to the sink and poured her coffee down the drain. "Come on," she said, brushing past him again, "I can get coffee in Diagon Alley. I want to get a move on because there's a book I need to get for work and they get really busy on the weekends."

Ron watched her silently as she bustled about, getting her purse and her keys together. When she had finished, and was standing impatiently near the door, he sighed, got rid of his own coffee and met her at the door.

He'd just have to wait until later to find out what was really going on.

They strolled the streets of Diagon Alley with no real urgency. It was a bright, clear morning and the shoppers had not yet descended upon them.

Ron told her all about the aptitude tests, and how they had come to the conclusion that he was best suited for work in the Criminal Profiling Department.

"They said that my logic and strategy scores were through the roof," he boasted proudly, reacting to the gleam of excitement in her eyes. "They said that I could be really good at finding out how criminals behave and mapping their possible future behaviors and maneuvers. I told them that growing up with Fred and George was enough training I would probably need," he said, a wry grin on his face.

Hermione laughed, and stopped walking. "Seriously, Ron, that's fantastic. I can't believe you didn't take that test before now."

"Yeah, me neither. It would have saved me so much energy wasted on making paper airplanes and serious hours of target practice."

She laughed again, and put a hand on his arm. "I'm so proud of you. You are finally going to be doing something you really care about. It's going to be tough for a while as you learn the ropes, but I just know you're going to be brilliant at it."

He spared a glance at her hand on his arm before he looked up to meet her gaze. He could never tell her, but her acceptance and appreciation was something he had worked hard to achieve, and he loved when she bestowed it upon him at times like these.

Of course, all he could do was smile back at her, and he kept his mouth firmly shut on the subject after that.

When they reached the bookstore, Hermione tried to talk him into going inside, but he had been on enough outings with her to a bookstore to know that she'd be in there for a good, long while. He usually wound up standing around, feeling a bit suffocated by all of the volumes on the shelves, waiting for her to finally make up her mind about which to purchase.

"I think I'll go check out the Quidditch supply store. I heard they got in a new set of gloves that the keepers on the national teams use. I might pick up a pair for Charlie for his birthday," he said, already backing away from her. He knew that the longer he stood around, the more likely it was that she'd drag him into the bookstore whether he liked it or not.

She groaned aloud at him, but turned and waved over her shoulder. "I'll meet you at Fred and George's in a half-hour," she called out before disappearing into the store.

Ron made his way down the street, not really in any rush to get to the Quidditch store. He probably couldn't afford the gloves anyway, so he looked into the windows of all of the shops along the way.

"Ron?"

Ron turned at the sound of his name, and saw Terry Boot walking toward him. He smiled in recognition at the former Head Boy and shook hands with him when they met up.

"I thought it was you. The hair," Terry said, gesturing toward Ron's head.

Ron laughed. "Yeah, we can definitely get picked out of a crowd," he said. He had always liked Terry, who he found to be fair, level-headed and too bloody brilliant for his own good.

"So, what brings you out here this early?" Ron asked, noticing the bags clutched in Terry's hands.

"My nephew's birthday party is tomorrow. Nothing like waiting for the last minute," Terry said, laughing. "What about you?"

"Oh, I came to see my brothers, but I'm waiting for Hermione. She's in the bookstore, but I couldn't bring myself to go with her. If you remember, she had quite a thing for books that I just can't bring myself to share," he replied, shrugging.

Terry grinned back at him. "Oh, I remember all right." Then, his face grew serious and he leaned toward Ron conspiratorially.

"Look, I don't want to be all silly about this, but I'm dying to know. Did she happen to mention if she had fun last night?" he asked quickly, his eyes intent upon Ron.

"Pardon?" asked Ron, completely confused. He knew that Hermione worked with Terry, but from the stories from work Hermione had told him, fun rarely entered into the picture.

"You know, did she say anything? Did she have a good time?"

Ron stared back at Terry, not knowing what he was talking about in the slightest.

"Oh, I guess it's in poor manners to ask a best friend about this kind of thing. Secrets and all, I can understand that," Terry said finally, when the silence had stretched a little too long.

Ron just kept staring.

"Well, can you at least tell me if she said she liked the flowers?" Terry asked, his eyes hopeful.

Suddenly, everything added up in Ron's head, and his stomach clenched in reaction. The flowers. How tired she had been this morning. Her reaction to his questions.

"She likes orchids," Ron said out loud, not really knowing what he was saying in the slightest.

Terry grinned at him and nodded his head. "Good to know. I didn't really know what to get her, since it was our first date and all, and I figured daisies seemed like something most women would like. Now that I have the inside information, it will only be orchids from now on."

Ron felt as if his tongue were glued to the roof of his mouth. He stood completely still, his eyes focused on a point somewhere over Terry's shoulder.

Hermione had been on a date last night.

The blood started pounding in his skull, and he didn't know what made him angrier; the fact that she'd been on a bloody date when she should have been with him at the Burrow, or the fact that she'd lied to him about it.

"Well, I think I'll head into the bookstore and secure myself a chance to give her those orchids," Terry said jovially. Ron's stomach lurched at his tone and he clenched his fists at his sides.

"It was good seeing you Ron," Terry said, moving his bags to the side to offer Ron his hand.

The last thing he wanted to do was shake hands with the man before him. In fact, he wanted to break those pretty little doctor hands of Terry's so he could make damn sure that they never touched his best friend.

Instead, he offered up his hand to shake, and gritted his teeth as Terry grinned once more at him before turning to pursue Hermione.

Once he was gone, Ron took a deep breath. It had always been like this with Hermione, and he should be used to the feeling by now. The blind, utter rage he felt at other men whenever he felt that they were getting too close to her.

Now, though, it was a bit different. She had lied to him, and that on top of everything else was making him see red. He stalked off in the opposite direction, not really caring if Hermione ever caught up with him or not.

He was tired of waiting for her, anyway.