Anywhere but in Between
Special thanks to all my readers and reviewers. You truly make my day, every day. The chapters will start to pick up now since the holiday is over.
Aschowin: The funny thing is, I had planned on this chapter mentioning Ginny at school and explaining a bit about what she's doing there. So stay tuned, and all questions will hopefully be answered :)
Tanydwr: Thank you for the great review. I think Ron is being very cool too, and I always saw him as really mellowed out when he was older. I don't know why, it just seems to fit best in my imagination.
RonandHerm4eva: Yeah, I wanted to add a bit of fun since the last chapter dealt with all the crying and what not. I almost put Fred and George in it again, but Ron and Hermione can be quite funny on their own if left to their own devices.
Lv3nd3r: As always, thanks for the encouraging words. I really liked the Lady and the Tramp scene for the exact reason you said. I wanted to laugh when I wrote it, but the time didn't seem appropriate, just like in the scene.
MidgetInGlasses: I always want Ron and Hermione to kiss any time they are in a scene together, so I feel ya. I tend to be of the school of thought that the waiting is the most delicious part, but I may throw in a little something to keep us sustained for a while. Wait and see!
AngelicOne: My favorite thing to write is adult R/Hr, G/H, because I think that adult friendships are so rich and amazing to write about. They have all that history, but they have to start embracing their own life as well. So confusing, but so cool at the same time. Thanks for reading, I hope you stick with this to see where they all go…
Anyway, Harry's coming home, so let's get on with things.
Chapter 12 – Home
No matter how hard Harry tried, he couldn't keep his eyes off the clock at the front of the store. And no matter how long he watched, the time seemed to be speeding along with no thought as to how difficult this all was for him.
In less than an hour, he would be going home.
He took a deep breath, his tenth of the day, and pushed away from the counter. He had to find something to keep him busy so he wouldn't have to think about anything for a while.
"Hey, my boy, what are you doing lurking near my supplies?" Tom's voice rang out merrily.
"Nothing," he replied, shoving over a box of Keeper's gloves with his trainer. "Just wondering if you needed any help."
"Aren't you due to leave in a few minutes?" Tom asked, cocking a graying eyebrow at him.
"A half-hour," he said forcefully. Even Tom was against him in this.
Tom's eyebrow practically disappeared into his hairline. "You don't seem all that pleased about getting on that train, lad. What's wrong?"
"Nothing," he said again.
"Don't you 'nothing' me, Harry. I'm too old to play games with you," Tom said pointedly, descending from the stepstool and meeting his eyes squarely.
"I'm just – anxious, I guess," he said, shrugging his shoulders. "I haven't seen everyone in so long, I don't know what it's going to be like."
Tom waved off his comment and let out a sharp sound of mild annoyance. "Harry, these people are your family. They will be so happy to see you that there won't be any room for awkwardness or disappointment."
Harry looked up quickly. "What do you mean, disappointment?"
Tom sighed and sat on the stool, wincing a little as his bones creaked. "Come off it, lad. Just because I don't make a big deal about your 'celebrity,' should we call it, doesn't mean I don't know what you accomplished. And what you ran all the way to Bulgaria to forget. People in these parts all know who you are, Harry. They just figure if you choose to live here, there is a reason, so they leave things be."
He sighed. "Do you think they will be disappointed in me?" he asked, his voice suddenly sounding heavy to his own ears.
Tom waved him off again. "I never took you for a fool, Harry Potter. Don't change my mind so soon before you leave us for an extended vacation, or I might just forget that you aren't usually so stupid."
If spoken by any other man, Harry would have been insulted. Instead, a smile came to his face, and he felt much better about things in general.
"What time is your train?" Tom asked, pushing himself up again, wincing harder now that he'd been resting for a while.
"Four," he answered, concerned for his favorite co-worker. "Are you sure you're going to be okay around here for a few weeks?"
"I will choose to ignore such a remark. Now, I'd suggest you get going early so I won't have to tell you in great detail about the game in which I scored 400 points all on my own, with no rainguards on or anything –"
"Okay, okay," Harry laughed, dodging the small roll of spellotape Tom had chucked at his head. "Don't strain yourself, Tom. I'll go."
"Good riddance," the older man growled at his back. Harry laughed again, missing his friend already.
"Harry," Tom shouted out as he reached the door.
"Yeah?"
"Good luck, my boy."
Harry arrived at the university with ten minutes to spare before Ginny had said she'd meet him in the front courtyard. He wandered over anyway, sitting on a large bench facing the main building.
The school was impressive, that much he could say for it. He didn't quite know how
many programs it offered, but he knew that they accepted students from all over the world. Ginny had once told him that one of her classes had twenty students, each from a different country.
It all sounded so amazing to him when she talked about her classes. She was studying to become an intern at the Department of Magical Games and Sports division at the Ministry, and even though they didn't normally accept people as young as her, they had made an exception upon seeing her NEWTs. He figured that her involvement in bringing down the most powerful dark wizard of all time didn't hurt, either.
He looked around him, watching the students milling about the courtyard. He suddenly wondered what it would be like to be a part of them. They all looked carefree, as if they had the rest of their lives to figure out what they were going to do with it. He noticed a flash of red at the main doors and saw Ginny exit, a bookbag over one shoulder and a large duffel over the other.
"Hey Ginny," he greeted her as he approached.
"Hi Harry," she said, waving to some friends across the path. "Are you all set to go?"
"As I'll ever be," he said. She must have picked up on his tone, for her look softened and she gave him a small smile.
"You'll be just fine. It's just my family, not a firing squad. Wait –" she stopped herself. "Bad analogy."
He smirked, knowing that she wasn't too far off the mark. "Do you need to stop by your dormitory?"
"No, I packed last night and shrunk it all down," she replied, patting the duffel. "You?"
"I'm good."
"Tell me again why we're not apparating and saving ourselves lots of time and effort?" she asked, as they began walking toward the main city street.
Harry kept his eye out for a taxi. "I just don't like apparating much anymore. I'd rather travel."
"Maybe you want a bit more time to get used to the idea of seeing everyone again, too?" she questioned slyly, shooting him a knowing look.
He didn't refute it. There would be no point. He knew that she understood exactly what was going on inside his head, and the fact that he didn't have to explain it set his mind at ease.
At least until they were seated on the train.
He sat looking out the window, watching the milling crowd grow smaller and smaller as passengers boarded. He watched husbands and wives hugging, friends saying their farewells, and his heart began to hammer in his chest.
"This reminds me of getting on the Hogwarts Express at the end of term," Ginny said, pulling him out of his silent thoughts. "The anticipation of going home, seeing my parents again, eating my mum's cooking," she added with a smile on her face.
"Not me. I was always sorry to see the year ending," he said dryly, thinking of the Dursleys and how miserable he had been at their house.
The train lurched forward and his breath started to quicken. They were on their way, and there was no turning back now. He leaned back in his seat and tried to make himself comfortable, but his mind was still moving at such an alarming speed that it almost made him dizzy.
Ginny was looking at him, a thoughtful expression on her face. "What year do you remember most fondly?" she asked suddenly. He knew instinctively that she was trying to keep his mind off things, and he was grateful. Talking was definitely preferable to thinking about all of the explanations he owed to people once the train stopped again.
He considered her words carefully, thinking back over all of the memories and experiences from Hogwarts.
"That's a tough one," he said finally, after being silent for too long. "I guess it would have to be sixth year."
"Why?"
"Probably because all of the other years ended with some kind of event that I would rather forget. At least sixth year, everyone knew that Voldemort was back, so I didn't feel like I was standing out there all by myself," he said, blinking wearily. "Does that make any sense?"
Ginny nodded, a wry smile coming to her face. "You know, it's funny, I feel the same way about that year," she said.
"You do?" he asked, surprised.
"Yeah," she answered, "It was the first year that I didn't feel like I was standing out there all by myself either. You guys started to include me in things, so it wasn't just the bunch of you and Ron's little sister anymore. I felt like you all actually wanted me around."
"We never didn't want you around," he said quickly. He didn't like that she thought that was the reason they hadn't included her in things. He had always liked Ginny, and if anything, he didn't drag her into things because he wanted her to be safe. He knew that was Ron's main reason as well, seeing how he and Ginny got on better than he did with his other siblings.
"No, I know that," she said, shaking off his comment. "It was just hard, being so close to you guys and not being in on things. I mean, you and Hermione spent practically every summer with us, but no matter how often we all hung out over those weeks, when school started up again, it was like I became the distant acquaintance again."
He felt horrible. After his fifth year, Ginny had just become part of the equation seamlessly, and he hadn't thought about what it must have been like for her before that. It seemed to him that she had always simply fit.
"I'm sorry," he said awkwardly, not really knowing how to apologize for something like this.
"For what?" she asked, laughing lightly. "It was ages ago, and it's not like I cried myself to sleep over it. It just sometimes bothered me is all."
"Well, you have my permission to sock me if we ever go off without you again," he said, smiling at her.
She leaned closer to him, then struck out and punched him in the arm.
"Hey," he laughed, rubbing at his arm. "What was that for? I'm going home with you, remember?"
"That was for leaving after the war was over," she said, and her playful tone disappeared altogether.
"Wait," he said in confusion, "I thought you said you understood why I did."
Ginny swung her gaze off of his and focused it on an invisible spot on the floor. "I do understand. That doesn't mean it was easy to accept. Especially when I couldn't really talk to anyone at home about what had happened."
Her words stopped him short, as he remembered the look of sheer terror on Ginny's face the night of the final battle. He remembered her bound by the cursed ropes Voldemort had fixed on her, draining her of every last bit of strength she possessed.
She was right. She was the only person who truly knew what had happened in that room that night, and he had left without so much as talking about it with her.
"You're right," he said, averting his own eyes out the window again. "I'm sorry."
They were both silent for a while, each lost in their own thoughts. Harry didn't know what he could possibly say to make up for being so selfish, leaving her behind to deal with things on her own. He shifted uncomfortably again, thinking that he was lucky she hadn't socked him when they'd first met up on the trolley three months ago.
"Harry?"
He turned toward her, drawn in by the softness of her voice.
She was looking at him steadily, although her hands were twisting together in her lap. "How long was it before you got a decent sleep after that night?" she asked.
He took a deep breath, remembering with perfect clarity the few weeks after the war and how his world had turned itself upside down. "I don't know, really. I guess a month or so before I stopped waking up in the middle of the night."
Ginny nodded slowly. "Yeah, me too. I think I scared the girls in my dormitory at least half a dozen times. That was a horrible year. Everyone stopped talking to me normally, like if they spoke too loud, I'd break into a million pieces or something."
"Did McGonagall take over as Headmistress?" he asked, his chest constricting as it always did when he thought about Dumbledore falling to the floor in front of him.
Ginny nodded again. "I don't think she wanted to, though. She spent the first part of the year sort of walking around with a dazed look on her face, almost as if she was waiting for Dumbledore to return from an extended holiday. Then after Christmas break, she moved her stuff up to his office."
"Who took over as head of Gryffindor?"
"Lupin," she answered, a small smile coming to her face. "If it wasn't for him, that would have been the absolute worst year of my life. He found time to talk to me almost every day, and he even forced me to continue with the DA meetings. He said that with his Defense Against the Dark Arts classes he couldn't do it, and since I was an original member, I should oversee things. I don't know what I would have done without him."
Harry's chest tightened again. For the past few days he'd been going over what he was going to say to everyone when he got home to try and explain himself, but he'd come up blank when thinking about Remus. For some reason, he had found it hardest to keep in contact with his parents' last remaining friend. He supposed it was because Remus really was the last link he had to his parents, and he was terrified that something would happen to take him away as well.
"I'm glad you had someone to talk to," he answered Ginny, giving her an apologetic look. "I didn't think about how hard it would be for you, and I'm really sorry for being such a prat."
Ginny's smile grew slightly, and she shook her head. "You weren't being a prat. Your thoughts were just otherwise occupied."
"It's no excuse," he stated. "You're right. It was me and you in there, and no one else could understand what that was like."
She considered him carefully for a moment, then said quietly, "Well, talking about it two years later is better than nothing, right?"
"Yeah," he said, turning his gaze back to the window. "I just hope that everyone is as forgiving as you."
He felt her shift closer to him. "They will be," she stated with assurance. He kept his eyes trained out the window so she wouldn't see the fear he felt at being rejected by the people he cared about most in the world.
In the next instant, she laced her arm through his, and the continued contact of her arm against his lulled him into a sense of calm that he desperately needed.
They fell into a comfortable silence as the train rocked them along, taking them closer to home with each passing second. After a while, he felt Ginny's head fall onto his shoulder, and he turned to look at her. She was asleep, her long eyelashes fanning out onto her pale cheeks.
He watched her for a moment, his stomach lurching in an odd way that he attributed to the train's bumpy ride. He didn't move away from her even after his arm began to grow numb, partly because he didn't want to wake her, and partly because he simply didn't want to.
After about an hour, his eyes began to slide shut of their own accord. He fell asleep soon after, comforted by Ginny's warm presence against his side.
The Burrow was bursting with activity, and Ron was smack in the middle of it. Between running errands for his mother and trying to avoid Fred and George's maniacal attempts to get him to try their new products, he was kept moving all day long.
The wedding was in three days, and his mother had decided to hold a dinner for the family since it was Bill and Fleur's first night in town. He grumbled silently to himself as he headed back into the kitchen, awaiting his mother's next set of commands.
"Ron, grab the plates and set the table," she said, fussing over the countless pots and pans simmering on the stove. "I think we're going to be eleven, right? Your father, me, Bill, Fleur, Charlie, Fred, Angelina, George, you, Ginny and Hermione," her mother ticked off the names at warp speed. Then she paused. "Or is Hermione bringing Terry tonight?" she asked, too casually to be natural.
He sighed. He knew his mother couldn't stand the fact that Hermione was dating someone that was not him, but no matter how many times he tried to explain things to her, she simply ignored him.
"I don't know, mum," he said dully, moving around her to collect the dishes. "I don't think so."
"Hmm."
He didn't comment on his mother's obviousness, opting instead to take the plates to the living room to set up.
As he worked, he tried to keep his mind off of Hermione. He had been thinking about her constantly since their dinner the other night, and it was starting to wear on his nerves. When he'd arrived at her flat for dinner, she'd acted so strangely. She had hugged him and held onto him as if he were going to disappear right in front of her. Even though he hadn't minded in the least, he had spent the entire meal trying to figure her out.
When she'd told him how proud she was of him, he had felt as if his chest would burst with pride. That was all he had ever really wanted, anyway. For her to be as proud of him as he was of her.
Then there was the incident after dinner. He hadn't meant for the silly game to go as far as it did, but once he'd had her trapped against the wall, he hadn't been able to move away. She had smelled so good and felt so warm up against him, that ending their teasing charade had been the furthest thing from his mind.
If he was being honest, too, he could have sworn that there was a flicker of something in her eyes then. It scared him a bit to think about what it could have been, but then again, they hadn't been able to find out. Terry had come in, ruining everything, and Ron had never hated him more.
As soon as Terry had arrived, Ron could tell that Hermione was unbelievably uncomfortable. He hated to see her like that, so he did the only thing he could do for her.
He had left.
He banged a plate down in front of a chair so loudly that his mother scolded him from the kitchen. He cursed under his breath and finished the task, knowing instinctively that there would be about five more things to take care of before everyone started arriving.
Sure enough, he was commanded to go upstairs and straighten up Ginny's room, and make sure that Bill and Charlie's old room was ready for them. Grumbling the entire way, he stomped up the stairs and decided to start with his sister's room. It was the smallest, and therefore, the easiest.
He spent a few minutes putting all of his father's Muggle gadgets into a corner to be boxed up and brought to the attic later. Looking over at the pile of clothes on the dresser, he sighed again and made his way over to straighten it up.
"Need any help?"
He turned to the doorway at the sound of Hermione's voice, and found her staring into the cluttered room with a small smile on her face.
"Hey," he said, straightening and running a hand through his hair. He probably looked a mess, having been forced into manual labor all afternoon. "You're here early."
"I figured your mum could probably use an extra set of hands, and I think I was right," she said, making her way into the room and grabbing some books off of the desk. "Where is everyone else?"
"Doing their best to avoid mum," he said dryly. She laughed, and the sound twisted at his gut. He cursed himself for having thought about her so much. Now all he could do was stare idiotically at her as she put the books away in Ginny's bookshelf.
"When is Ginny getting in?" she asked.
"Around seven or so, I think," he answered, forcing himself to not stare at her. She looked very pretty in a long, light blue dress. Her hair was down, falling in soft curls over her shoulders. He blinked twice to try and put her image out of his mind, but there she was, right in front of him, her eyes practically shining.
"I can't wait to see her," she said excitedly, looking exactly like she used to when she got an exam back she'd been waiting for.
"Me neither. It's been too long since she's been home," he said, thinking of the last time he had seen his sister. She had been gone for over a year now, and had only visited once in May for their mother's birthday.
They worked on the room in a companionable silence, and Ron did his best to keep his eyes off his best friend. She was moving about the room with the skilled practice of a certified neat-freak, and he smiled to himself. Some things never changed.
They finished with the room and made their way up the stairs to Bill and Charlie's old room. Hermione walked ahead of him, and he couldn't help but watch the gentle sway of her hips as she climbed the steps carefully to avoid stepping on the skirt of her dress. His pulse quickened of its own accord, and he silently cursed himself again. He had to stop himself now, he knew from experience, or there would be no turning back.
"So, where's Terry tonight?" he asked once they'd entered his brothers' room, more to get his mind off of her than out of any real interest as to where her boyfriend could be.
She stopped so suddenly that he almost walked into her. When she turned to face him, she didn't look as happy as she had been only moments before.
"I didn't think this was the kind of thing I should bring him to," she explained in a controlled voice. "You know, family and all."
"Ah, don't want to subject him to a Weasley family reunion dinner, huh?" he asked, raising an eyebrow at her.
"No, of course not," she stated haughtily. Ron smiled, knowing that tone all too well. "Tonight is just about your family, and I didn't see any reason for him to come along. Besides, I'll be talking to Ginny all night, and that would kind of leave him out of things."
"You still taking him to the wedding?" he prodded, willing his pulse to remain steady. For the last few nights he'd had vivid dreams of dancing with her, holding her close. In the dream, Terry was decidedly not there, and he had danced with Hermione in his dreams until he woke up the next morning.
When she didn't answer right away, his heart began to hammer in his chest.
"Can I ask you something?" she asked finally, taking him by surprise. He nodded at her slowly, half anxious, half afraid of what she was going to ask.
"Why did you leave the other night when he came over?"
The room seemed to shrink in size all of a sudden, and he found it hard to breathe. How was he supposed to answer something like that? What could he say that sounded plausible, but didn't make him look like a jealous little schoolboy?
"I told you, I had to work early the next day," he said, averting his eyes to the piles of old Hogwarts clothes on the beds. He knew he couldn't look at her, because she was uncannily good at reading him.
"Oh," she said quietly. She moved over to the desk chair and sat down. "I thought it might have been something else."
"Like what?" he asked, his throat closing around the words. She was acting strangely, just as she had been the other night when he'd first arrived for dinner. He didn't dare allow himself to think it was possible, but she sounded almost disappointed.
"Nothing," she said quickly, unnecessarily straightening the papers on the desk. They were both quiet for a moment, then she straightened her shoulders and turned in the chair to face him. "By the way, I'm sorry that he interrupted dinner. I was having fun, and I know it was kind of awkward when he got there."
"I had fun, too," he said.
Their eyes locked onto each other's and held, but in the next instant, she broke the contact and rose out of the chair. He followed her with his eyes, and suddenly, he had an overwhelming desire to tell her to ditch Terry and come to the wedding with him.
"You never answered my question before," he said in a low voice. "Is Terry still coming with you on Tuesday?"
He held his breath and kept his eyes trained on her back. She wouldn't turn and face him, and for the life of him he wished she would. He wanted to see her face, to see what she was thinking.
"Of course he is," she answered finally, although she still did not turn around. "He's my boyfriend after all."
"Right," he said, the air in his lungs completely dissolving away. It was his own fault, really. He kept thinking that the little things meant more than they did, and just because she had fun at dinner while he chased her around with a piece of food did not mean that she was interested in him as more than a friend.
Suddenly, he felt like the world's biggest prat. He sighed heavily, pushing all thoughts of her out of his mind as best he could.
"Well, I suppose we'd better get going on the room," he said finally. "Mum probably has a ton of other things she needs done before tonight."
"Okay," she said in a voice so quiet that he had to strain to hear her. They worked around the room silently, keeping a very large space between them at all times.
After they were finished, they went downstairs to receive their next set of chores. Ron saw his mother working herself into a frenzy in the kitchen and chuckled at the state she was in.
"You would think the Queen herself was coming to dinner," he commented to Hermione as they entered the kitchen.
"I heard that," his mother growled as she swept past him. "Get the goblets from the cupboard and set them out. Please," she added as she realized that Hermione was standing next to him.
Ron rolled his eyes at Hermione, who grinned and walked over to the side cupboard. She
grunted slightly as she strained to reach the latch on the high cupboard.
"Why would your mum put them way up here? She's shorter than I am," she said, rising onto her toes and extending her fingers as far up as she could get them.
He walked up behind her and reached over her head to undo the latch. "Because she always makes us put them away, and it's the only room we have in here," he explained.
He didn't realize how close he was standing to her until she took a step backwards to give him more room and bumped right up against his chest.
"Sorry," they both said at the same time, moving in opposite directions to try and get out of each other's way. He stepped on the hem of her dress as she tried to take a step around him, and in the next instant, she fell right up against him.
He put his arms around her instinctively, and the second that his hands made contact with the small of her back, his heart began to hammer in his chest again.
Their eyes met again, this time holding each other's gaze much longer than before. He told himself that he should probably take his hands from her waist now that she was stable, but they didn't move. He didn't think he could move them if someone told him his life depended upon it.
The desire to tell her everything that had been racing through his head for the past week – well, past few years – washed over him again, and his throat suddenly felt dry and raw.
His Gryffindor courage came to the surface in one, sure moment, almost winding him completely. He took a shaky breath, and he saw Hermione's eyes grow a bit wider. She didn't move away, though, and although he was probably only wishing it to be so, he could swear that he saw a flicker of anticipation in her eyes.
"Hermione," he said, his voice sounding odd and distant in the otherwise silent room.
One minute she was looking directly at him, and the next, her eyes shifted slightly over his shoulder and her face suddenly went completely white.
"Harry."
An anger that he never knew existed boiled up in his veins. Here he was, about to say what he probably shouldn't be saying to his best friend, and she was calling him by their other best friend's name.
"No, Ron, remember?" he said bitterly, releasing her and taking a small step backward.
Hermione was still deathly white as she shook her head slowly, her eyes still focused over his shoulder.
He turned to see what she was looking at, and when he did, all the color drained from his own face. He felt her hand grab onto his, and he was glad for it. Without the contact, he would have thought that he was seeing things.
Ginny was in the kitchen doorway, staring with great interest at the scene before her.
Right next to her, with the same look on his face, was someone Ron had started to wonder if he'd ever see again.
Harry Potter had finally come home.
As always, thanks for reading, and please review if you have the time. Next chapter...the fallout!