A/N: Here we are! The final chapter to Random Harvest. Hope you review! I highly recommend you renting the movie although I've pretty much ruined the entire movie for you. Definitely check out Greer Garson, the queen of MGM during the 1940s. I will probably be writing another fic based upon, Pride and Prejudice with Laurence Olivier. It's an okay book, but I think an even better movie.
Chapter 16: Reunited
The following week, all the arrangements were made for Hermione's trip. Harry escorted her to the train station. They walked side by side, silently.
"I think this is my compartment," Hermione peeked in to check, "Yes, it is," she confirmed, turning back to Harry who is looking obviously disdained.
"I hope Ron has made everything smooth for you," he said, looking down at his feet.
"Yes, he's been very helpful," she looked around, "He should be here any moment with my letter of credit."
"You only have two days in the country?" Harry asked.
"Yes, my boat sails on Wednesday."
"It's on your way," he inquired, "This place?"
"No, it's in Devon," she informed him, "A quiet little old village, a delightful old inn, I want to see it again."
"Oh?" Harry looked up.
"I was once very happy there," Hermione told him casually.
The first whistle blew as a red-haired man ran up to them.
"I'm glad I'm not late," Ron puffed, taking a minute to breathe. "I made you out an itinerary Hermione," he retrieved an envelope from the inside pocket of his robe, "Thought you could study it on the ship."
"Oh how kind of you," Hermione thanked him graciously.
"Oh," he handed her another envelope, "Here is your letter of credit. And some books for you to read." He held up the stack of books he was carrying, "I'll put these in the compartment." He went in to drop them off, "I think you'll find everything in order. I hope you have a wonderful trip."
"Thank you," Hermione shook his hand.
"Don't stay away too long," he added with a grin.
"If I do, I'll blame your excellent arrangements," she smiled back, "Goodbye."
"Goodbye," Ron turned to Harry, "I'll wait for you, I have a letter from Mr. Wood." He moved over by the corner so his friend could say goodbye properly.
A second whistle blew. Hermione glanced over at the conductor and then back at Harry.
"Well," she gave an awkward smile, "Goodbye Harry." She started to turn into her compartment.
"Margaret," Harry called, "I wish you weren't going," he confessed sadly, "I don't feel quite happy about it. You'll let me hear from you?"
"Of course," Hermione answered, trying to hide the uneasiness in her voice.
"Goodbye," he moved closer and gave her a hug. Hermione closed her eyes, hugging him back, wishing the moment would never end. Feeling the oncoming of tears, she quickly lets go and went straight into her compartment.
Harry closed the door for her as they hear the final whistle.
"You going to the house?" Hermione asked him from the window.
"No, to the office, there's some trouble," he answered. The train started to move, "Seems strange not to talk it over with you Margaret!" he called out to her. He stared at the moving train.
Ron came up behind him, "This strike, Harry. Its pretty serious."
"Strike?" Harry said, still not taking his eyes off the train.
"At the Melbridge Cable Works," Ron clarified for him, "The men are out of hand."
"Melbridge, yes, yes, of course," Harry replied, with his mind elsewhere.
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The next day, Harry and Ron arrived at Melbridge to absolve the strike. After a few hours of negotiations, the strike reached an end.
"It's alright men!" the worker representative announced from the factory balcony to the employees waiting outside, "The strike is settled and we've won!"
"Hurray!" Everyone cheered, throwing their hats celebratory in the air.
"Thanks to one man, Mr. Harry Potter!" the representative proclaimed as Harry walked out to the balcony and waved at the crowd. The crowd went wild.
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Harry and Ron made their way down from the factory and walked into town. Everyone outside was in an uproar, thankful of the strike being over. As they walked, everyone cheered at them and patted them on the back. A sense of unexplained feeling déjà vu fell upon Harry as he nodded back politely in acknowledgement.
"Look at the backstreets we came through," Ron observed, seeing the crowded roads, "Here, lets pop in there to get a drink," he suggested, pointing at the Melbridge Arms. As they entered the pub, the people inside greeted them with cheers. Everyone holding up a mug toasted them in their honor. They headed straight to the bar and sat down.
"Thank you kindly sir," the man sitting next to Harry smiled, "We appreciated it."
"Thank you," Harry answered politely.
The barkeep turned around and spotted the two, "What will you have gents?"
"Two firewhiskeys please," Ron orders.
"Two firewhiskeys sir, coming right up," the barkeep quickly filled their shots and presented them, "Here we are."
Ron looked behind the bartender and noticed a life size statue of a boxer standing in the corner, "Is that the proprietor?" he joked.
The bartender turned around to see what he was pointing to, "Yes sir, that's Tom, he's ain't much like that now," he answered, "That's him at the end." The bartender pointed to a rather stout and bald looking man behind the counter busy entertaining the customers with a story.
Harry and Ron looked at the man amusingly.
"He was a gentleman the gunner was! Can't compare with the heavy weights today!" Tom continued, "Why he could have two of them for breakfast! And-"
"Well, we better not lose our train," Harry glanced at his watch, "We better go."
They down their drinks swiftly, paid and went back out into the streets.
"Fog is getting thicker," Ron observed as they stroll down the street.
"Yes, beastly," Harry agreed as he felt around his pockets, "Cigarettes?"
"No, sorry, I don't smoke," he replied.
"Of course not," he realized, shaking his head, "Never mind, there's a little tobacconist just around the corner." Harry walked on ahead as a puzzled expression fell on Ron's face.
The bell rang as they entered the shop. Harry took out his wallet as they waited by the counter. An elderly woman peeked through the window from the back before walking out to greet them.
"Well?" she asked, as rudely as she had always been these past years.
"A box of Blue Ribbons please," Harry told her, setting his money down on the counter.
The woman retrieved the pack of cigarettes and placed it before him. "Thank you sir," she said, picking up the coins.
"Thank you," Harry grabbed the box.
"Good night sir," said the woman.
"Good night," he called back as Ron held the door for him.
They made their way down the street again. "I thought you said you never been in Melbridge," Ron mentioned.
"I haven't," he replied, lighting his cigarette.
"But you said, there's a little tobacconist just around the corner," he pointed out.
"Hmm?" Harry looked at him, not seeing what he's getting at.
"You said there's a little tobacconist just around the corner," he repeated again.
Harry tilted his head curiously, "I said that?"
Ron nodded, "That shop was off the main street. You couldn't have seen it on your way from the station."
They stop walking. "No." Harry agreed, thinking it over.
"Then, how did you know of it?" Ron asked.
"I-I don't know, I-" Harry replied, ransacking his brain for answers. They moved over to the side of the street.
"You went straight to it," Ron observed.
"I did know!" Harry realized, "But I don't know how!" His eyes scanned the area before him, "Melbridge...Melbridge," he repeated.
"What's the matter?" asked Ron.
"Melbridge," Harry repeated again.
"Are you ill?" he suggested, looking a little worried, "Let me get a cab."
"No, no, let me think. There's something. That shop!" Harry stared back at its direction, "That woman!" He concentrated harder.
Ron was starting to get even more concerned. He spotted a cab in the street, "There's a taxi, I'll get it." He went off after it.
Harry turned away from the street and leaned against the side railing. He studied his surroundings again. The same feeling of déjà vu swept through him. The cab suddenly pulled up behind him.
"Here you are," Ron grabbed him by the arm.
Harry turned to the driver of the cab, "Where is... the hospital?"
"You mean the old one or the new one sir?" the driver asked.
"The old one, I think," Harry thought for a moment, "It's on a hill. Big gates. High wall all around it."
"That don't much sound like either of them," he said, "You wouldn't be meaning the asylum would you sir?"
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Harry and Ron had the driver take them up to the asylum. They stepped out in front of the huge iron gate of the Melbridge County Asylum. The fog was incredibly thick.
"Let's see," Ron said, helping his friend to remember, "You say you came out of these gates."
"Yes, I'm sure of that. There was some excitement," Harry recalled, "and a great deal of noise."
"Then let's start from here, and try to retrace your steps," Ron pointed to the stone path, "You must have gone into town."
"Yes," said Harry, "I've been to that shop."
"Perhaps as we go, you can piece the thing together," Ron suggested.
"Yes, that's right. That's a good idea," Harry agreed as they started slowly down the road, "I came along this path."
"You remember that?"
"Yes I think so. There was a good deal of fog. People shouting," Harry continued, "Sound of- I was trying to get away from something. There was some danger. I was afraid." He focused, "There was a girl. There was a girl!" he repeated, "Yes, there was a girl!"
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Hermione was staring out of the window at the inn. "The mist is lifting," she observed.
"Yes," commented the young innkeeper behind the counter, "it looks as if it will be a nice day after all."
Hermione went toward the desk, "Binky, could you take the luggage to the station and wait for me there?" she asked the house elf, "I have lots of time. I think I like to walk."
"Right you are madam," Binky picked up the bags, "I'll wait for you by the newsstand."
"You're leaving us now?" the innkeeper asked, "I do hope you'll come and see us again."
Hermione took the letter of credit from her purse and handed it to her, "Not very soon, I'm afraid. I'm sailing for South America at two o clock."
"You are? My! I envy you," the girl replied, "Are you sure you prefer to walk to the station?"
"Yes. Such a pretty walk," Hermione remarked, "I used to live here you know, during Mrs. Devanter's time. Did you know her?"
"Not very well," the innkeeper answered as she finished putting the paperwork in order, "She died three years ago."
"Yes," Hermione nodded sadly, "That's what Binky was telling me."
"She was quite a character, Mrs. Devanter," said the girl, "Lots of people ask after her. There was a gentleman in here a few minutes ago asking after Mrs. Devanter and the old vicar."
"Really?" Hermione stuffed the letter of credit back into her purse, "I should be going, I don't want to have to hurry. Goodbye Ms. Johnson and thank you."
"Goodbye," she smiled, "I'm sure you'll have a wonderful trip."
"Thank you," Hermione replied as she headed for the door. She stopped abruptly midway and turned back to the counter, "Did you say a gentleman was asking for Mrs. Devanter?"
"Oh yes Miss," the innkeeper confirmed, "and the old vicar. That's Mr. Durham, you know, he lives at Seven Oaks. Mr. Cosgrove is our vicar now."
"Is the gentleman staying here?" she asked.
"Oh no. He was looking for a cottage. Said he used to rent one here, oh years ago. He remembered it was near the church," the innkeeper informed her, "Was he a friend of yours Miss?"
Hermione eyes widen as she listened. She uttered a small, "Excuse me," before walking out the door. She made her way quickly down the road towards the cottage.
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Harry stood before a small cottage surrounded by a white picket fence. He gently unlatched the door. The hinge squeaked, as it swung open. He stood there for a moment before moving towards the house. He pushed away the overgrown branch that was blocking his way. Harry looked up at the tree and studied it for a while. Turning back to the house, he walked to the door. Harry pulled out his key. "The moment of truth," he thought. The key fitted perfectly into the lock. He turned it slowly, and the door swung wide open.
Hermione trotted her way up to the fence. An overwhelming sense of happiness swept over her at the sight of Harry looking into their cottage. Hermione smiled. "Smithy!" she called to him.
Harry startled, gradually turned around.
"Oh Smithy!" Hermione cried out again.
He saw her standing behind the fence. His confused look slowly replaced by an expression of familiarity.
"Oh Darling," she sniffed.
Harry stared at her for a while and grinned.
"Hermione!" He exclaimed, raced over to her with open arms and kissed her passionately. Tears of joy came out of Hermione's eyes finally being able to realize what she wanted for so long.
As they gazed adoringly into each other's eyes, Harry embraced her, swearing to never letting her go.
"I love you so much, Mione," he whispered.
"I love you too, Harry," Hermione laughed, "My Smithy!"
Harry brought his lips upon hers once again, for they have both found that the seeds of love are deeply rooted in Random Harvest.
Hope you all have enjoyed the story!