Disclaimer: I don't own anything Harry Potter. He belongs to J.K. Rowling, whom I heartily thank for having created him. I just happen to have been knocked in the head by my muse one evening, and took it upon myself to write this bit of fiction based on the characters she created.

Author's Note: I've never written fanfiction before, so you'll have to bear with me. It's rated R for language and possible violence in later chapters, and because at this point I really don't know where exactly the story is going to go. At the moment, I'm letting inspiration guide my hand, though I suspect it's going to take some help. This piece was begun before Book 6 came out, and I've decided not to let that volume influence my take on events as I have them written here. Also, I'd like to thank, in advance, all my online friends who I'm going to pester into reading this, as well as those people I'll more than likely turn to for help when my muse deserts me. And, of course, my husband, who has always been my biggest fan as well as my most honest critic. Thank you, thank you, thank you! I'm going to try, very hard, not to disappoint.

Chapter 2

The ghost made his appearance again a week later, the day I received my reply. Dumbledore had spoken with Arthur Weasley, and the latter had made an appearance in our home, much to the surprise of my parents. They were still surprised at the number of people with magical talent, and I supposed I couldn't blame them. Besides, there were far nastier things to be surprised about, so I wasn't going to say anything about their reaction when Mr. Weasley Apparated into our living room.

After he'd spent some time interrogating my parents on what life was like as Muggles, I managed to drag him away for a witch-to-wizard chat, which he began by asking, "Hermione, are you sure about this? This giving up magic to go to a Muggle college?"

"Yes, I'm quite sure," I replied confidently. I had, after all, had a week in which to completely convince myself that this was the best thing for myself and my parents. "I really believe that there are a lot of useful Muggle things to study, and the only way I can study them properly is at a university."

"But give up magic?" He made it sound as though I'd be cutting off an arm, and very likely that's how I would feel, doing it.

"It's what I want to do," I said, again confident. "If terrible things are going to happen to the people I care about, I'd rather magic not be involved. I've lived without it before, and I can do it again."

"And I trust you. However, the law is quite clear about wizard-Muggle regulations, and officially, you know, I'm supposed to strip you of your wand." He looked at me for a long moment, and I lifted my chin proudly. I was a Gryffindor, after all. No backing down for me. "But, I rather suspect there's going to be a point down the road in which you might change your mind, and I'm going to let you keep it, because I do trust you. Lock everything away, your wand, your books, all your things, but don't forget about what you've already learned."

I was shocked. "B-but won't you get into trouble, sir?" I had to ask.

He smiled at me. It wasn't the patronizing smile of an adult who's heard a child ask the most ridiculous thing in the world, it was a kind smile, a sympathetic smile. "Don't you worry yourself about me. After all, Muggles are my jurisdiction. Oh, the paperwork has already been filled out, mind you, and it's sitting on my desk awaiting my return. Dumbledore will handle the necessary items with your school, I imagine, he's good at that sort of thing." And here he stuck out his hand for me to shake.

"That's it?" My voice sounded strange in my ears, as I shook his hand automatically. I couldn't believe it, I was free, just like that. "That's all there is to it?"

"Well, what did you expect?" he asked in reply, grinning. "Some special spell or potion to rid you of your powers?" The expression on my face must have told him I had, in fact, thought something of the sort, and he shook his head, becoming serious. "No, that sort of thing is reserved for those people who've committed crimes with their magic among Muggles after swearing not to use it. But I trust you, Hermione. There are a lot of people who've come to trust you over the years, and some of them are working at the Ministry now, even though they aren't in any real power over there. You're a good witch, and I expect you'll be just as good at whatever you decide to study."

I couldn't think of anything to say, to reply to that declaration, and I watched him Apparate away in silence. Apart from Harry and Ron, I hadn't really made all that many friends at Hogwarts, and I couldn't help but wonder who he could possibly be talking about. Harry was dead, and I'd no idea what Ron was doing with his time, now that we'd graduated. Surely Ron couldn't be working at the Ministry? No, that thought was too absurd to seriously consider. Then who?

Harry waited until after I'd gone up to my room to make his appearance, and having seen him once, I wasn't as surprised when he came the second time. "Hermione," he said by way of greeting, looking sad.

"What do you want, Harry?" I asked. I was looking around my room to see if there was anything I'd forgotten to pack away. "I'm a bit busy right at the moment," I added. I wasn't as mad at him as I'd been, but I didn't think I had the patience for his excuses just then.

"Why are you doing this, Hermione? You love magic! You love learning about it, you love doing it, and you're good at it!" I realized he didn't just look sad, he looked hurt.

Sitting down at my desk with a sigh, I blew hair out of my eyes. My bangs needed cutting. "Harry, why are you so concerned about me? You're dead, remember?"

"Because if you go back to being a Muggle, I won't be able to see you any more."

I completely lost my train of thought, forgot to be mad at him, because I was too busy staring through him. "Why should that matter?" I demanded at last. I was afraid of his answer, but I knew I had to hear it, whatever it was.

"It matters, Hermione," the ghost replied, "because you're the reason I'm here."

"What?" I couldn't believe what I was hearing, and yet I knew I didn't sound nearly as incredulous as I probably should have. "What do you mean, I'm the reason you're here?"

He looked at me for a moment, and then whispered solemnly, "I love you, Hermione."

Even though some part of me had suspected his answer, I still gaped at him in utter shock. "Harry!" I exclaimed, once I'd recovered enough of my wits to speak. "How could you do this to me?" We'd known each other for seven years, and for most of that time I'd pined for him in secret while he chased after any number of girls.

"Do what to you?" He was getting angry, I knew that look well enough, and I suppose he'd expected a different reaction, given the strength of will it must have taken him to finally say what he had. "I'm the one who's dead, remember?"

As if I could forget. "That's exactly what I mean!" I was furious. "Why did you wait until now, after you've died and become a ghost, to tell me that?" I wondered how long he had known, and decided he was lucky he was already dead.

"I didn't know how to tell you, before." It looked as though he was getting a clue why I might be upset. About bloody time, I thought. "I don't think I really understood it, before. But when I was facing Voldemort, when we pointed our wands at each other, the only thing I could think of was how much I'd miss you."

I felt the tears on my face before I even noticed I was crying, and I closed my eyes. "Why did you do it, Harry? How could you just leave us behind?"

"I haven't left you, Hermione." Cold air fanned across my cheek, and I opened my eyes to see his hand next to my face, as if he'd tried to touch me. He looked stricken, as if he'd just realized that, being a ghost, he couldn't touch anything.

"Yes, Harry," I whispered, sitting at my desk and pulling a tissue from the box of tissues I kept handy. "You really have."

This time, he didn't need me to shoo him out of the room, he left of his own accord, passing through the wall in his ghostly fashion as I wiped away my tears with the tissue. By leaving the magical world behind, by giving up magic, I'd be giving up Harry, but it was a sacrifice I was prepared to make. Magic could do wonderful things, yes, but I'd seen far too many terrible things. And magic had killed Harry.

Being a ghost, Harry couldn't risk being seen by Muggles. He'd be reported to the Ministry, and there was no telling what they'd do to him if they found out. None of us really trusted the Ministry any more, at least not as a whole. Obviously, there were still some good people working there, but I wasn't about to risk Harry's non-corporeal existence on the chance that someone might be able to help. If Harry hadn't shown himself to Ron, there must have been some reason, and Ron likely would have taken the news harder than I was.

No, whatever Harry was going to do, he was going to have to do it without the help of his friends. Ron had never been able to keep a secret in his life, and I was committed to my decision in leaving the wizarding world behind me. I didn't even dare contact Dumbledore, on the off chance the letter might be intercepted. It was paranoid thinking, I knew, but after the last seven years, paranoia was the lesson I was taking away from Hogwarts.

"Good luck, Harry," I whispered to the empty air of my bedroom. "You're going to need it."