A/N: Welcome to the show! This fanfic has been carefully nurtured over the last 6-7 years. It has become a passion of mine and I am so excited to share with all of you! Please remember this is a darker piece, and I have TWs throughout, the main one being violence. THERE IS VIOLENCE THROUGHOUT. For more specific TWs, they will be tagged in the END of chapter notes as they would be spoilers.

If you have any triggers that you are concerned about, please always check the end of chapter notes first.A piercing wind cut through Flourish and Blotts as Harry pushed his way through the door back onto the cobblestone streets. The plummeting temperatures and crowded paths nearly made him give up on the whole venture, but with Christmas only two weeks away and almost none of his shopping done, he pressed onward.

Shopping for Ron would be simple. Harry had been buying the same thing for him the last four years. And every year Ron excitedly unwrapped the latest, top-of-the-line broom his best mate got him. George had been harder to shop for recently. Since the loss of his other half, sweets and practical jokes hadn't been nearly as enjoyable. In fact, the shop nearly went under after the war. Had Ron and Ginny not stepped in to help with it, the shop would surely have closed its doors years ago. And now each April 1st and Christmas, the entire selection of Ton-Tongue Toffee, their first invention, was sold at fifty percent to honor his missing half.

Ginny was a touchy gift receiver. She never would tell anyone what she wanted and typically received whatever Witch Weekly's top gift of the year was with as much grace and appreciation as a noble. This year was some perfume Harry would have to owl in from France. While he had never particularly been close to Charlie, they shared a love for magical creatures. He knew anything from that realm would be a safe choice. When it came to Percy though, Harry didn't even try. The current tradition of three years running was a competition between Ron and him. Each boy picked the worst possible tie for Percy, and whoever got the biggest rise from him won. So far Harry was one for three, but this year, he planned to tie it up because he had a secret weapon: muggle thrift shops. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley had always insisted on no presents for them. For the couple, having all of their children including Harry home was more than enough. He wondered if it was something that came with being a parent as Bill and Fleur never accepted his gifts either. Each said his gifts to their daughters were a gift to them as well. Harry had discovered the only presents he truly enjoyed finding and giving had been to his pseudo nieces and godson. He adored finding things that made the children light up and squeal with excitement. It had become his favorite part of Christmas. Honestly, he spoiled them at every chance he was given.

As he rushed past Olivander's, something flashed in the corner of his eye pulling him from his internal musings. He wasn't entirely sure why the figure caught his attention, and now that he looked properly at it, he found it difficult to concentrate. Had it been on the left or right side of the road? But from the corner of his eye, the figure looked more like a person, someone he knew or at least should know. Something about the rounded shoulders of the person attempting to press out the cold seemed familiar. The way the person weaved through the crowd tickled a memory in a dusty corner of his mind. He knew that person. Hermione. The thought was barely a whisper across his mind, but he knew that figure bobbing in and out of focus had to be her. She was the only person he knew capable of an illusion like that. It was exactly the way she used to dodge her way through the crowds of Hogwarts in between classes. Without thought, he shouted her name across the way, hoping perhaps she would stop whatever was making it impossible to focus on her. But her entire demeanor changed. She drew her shoulders up straighter, and it seemed as if her whole body may be humming with energy, that if he reached out to touch her, he would be electrocuted. But she didn't turn to look at him. Instead, she ran.

Chasing a figment that was nearly impossible to focus upon held more challenges than merely running through congested, cobblestone streets. But his determination would not allow him to turn back now. He had seen her, and she had run again. But she wouldn't get away. Not this time. She couldn't possibly apparate away, not this close to the stores, and past that, there were finite places to hide.

A force pulled him into the dark recesses between two buildings pressing his back firmly into the cold wall. A strong arm pressed into his chest while the tip of a wand bit into his throat. His eyes shifted out of focus staring directly at his attacker, but he knew it must be her. The way she gripped her wand, how her feet staggered just a bit too narrowly, the watch that caused a glare of light to bounce into his face. All of which added up to one thing in his mind. Hermione.

Her entire being narrowed to this person that recognized her. Going to Diagon Alley certainly was a risk, but she never expected to have been spotted almost immediately. Fear coursed through her as she twisted her wand harder into the man's throat. But then the glint of his glasses broke her concentration. The intensity of his emerald eyes pulled her in just a fraction. The familiar slopes of his face tampered down some of her original panic as it always had.

"Harry?" Her voice cracked as she continued to stare in disbelief. Of all the people to see through the charm and find her, it had to be him. It was always him.

His hand closed around her wrist. Panic overtook her again, and a spell began to light the tip of her wand when his agitated voice rang out. "Hermione, what the hell?" He pushed her wand lower, finally snapping her out of her stupor. She stepped back to look down the alley, making sure no one was watching.

"Long time no see," she remarked distractedly. Her eyes darted back and forth to each exit, to her escape routes. She continued to shift her weight back and forth, never truly settling.

"Yeah, I'd say nearly four years is a long time." He started to reach toward her but stopped halfway through afraid of startling her. "Where have you been?" The wind nearly overwhelmed his hushed voice.

The way his eyes settled on her and the concern the rung out in his voice stirred something in her that she had buried long ago. But she couldn't tell him the truth. The truth would ruin him. It would turn his whole life upside down once again, and she simply didn't have it in her to do that to him.

"Oh, you know. Been about traveling. Been a little here, a little there." The lie was smooth off her tongue. Her crossed arms and slouched shoulders made her seem nonchalant, but he noticed the posture didn't reach her darting eyes. Her wand never left her hand.

"Really? Because the way you're acting, I'd think you were back on the horcrux hunt. What's really going on, Hermione?"

An exasperated sigh escaped her as she ran her hands through her hair. This was the last thing she wanted to be doing. Not now, not ever.

He might have missed it if he hadn't been focused so entirely on her trying to see through the charm. A bit of black ink peeked out from under the sleeve of her jacket when she lifted her arms. The grip he held on her wrist was nearly painful, but she made no motion to move away, no indication it hurt. With trembling fingers, he pushed her sleeve up to her elbow exposing the Dark Mark inked into her skin. He recoiled from her with such force, it seemed as though he had been physically shocked.

"What the hell have you gotten yourself into?"

"It isn't what you think," her voice colored with exasperation. This wasn't the place for a conversation like this, out in the open where anyone could overhear. And where exactly is the place for it? Her mind hurled back at her. With a wave of her hand, the ink rippled then disappeared altogether with the rest of her glamours and charms. The familiar jagged scar stood proudly in the place of the Dark Mark. The irony wasn't lost on her. "Just a glamour."

Harry's focus shifted to those eight letters that stood out as strongly as when the day Lestrange had put them there. He reached out and ran a thumb over each letter, reassuring himself the tattoo had only been a trick. Their gaze locked, and he realized he could truly look at her now. The deep stress lines that creased her face, the dark circles under her eyes, her gaunt face, the appearance of new scars. She was fitter now. Before the idea completely processed, his finger was tracing a faded scar on her chin. The sharp suck of breath was the only indication she felt uncomfortable.

"That's why I ran. You took me by surprise recognizing me through the glamour." She turned away under the guise of watching for anyone passing by, but truly she was embarrassed. Completely and utterly mortified. Apparently, her charms weren't nearly as good as she thought.

"Yeah, the complexity of an illusion like that gave you away. Why are you traveling under glamours?" he huffed out. "Especially that one?" His eyes drifted down to her arm before meeting her gaze again. "What's happened to you?"

The pained look that crossed her face was the first real emotion he had seen from her. Her eyes slid shut, trying to will the situation into a different direction. She couldn't do this to him. The entire reason she stayed away so long was to protect him from shouldering her burden. She needed to resolve this alone before she could entertain the idea of returning. She needed to let him be because he didn't deserve having to go through all of this particularly not for her. And she absolutely refused to be the one that dragged him into that hell again.

"You can't know." Her eyes lighted on him once again, and the stone mask slid back into place. "I tell you anything, and you'll be back on the run again at the very least. It would change everything for you, turn your life upside down. And I simply cannot do that to you, Harry." She insisted, her voice curt and authoritative. "Go. Forget you ever saw me. Go home, have a cup of tea with a forgetting potion, and never speak of this again. Live your life, Harry."

But he can't give her what she's demanding of him. Years ago when she first walked away, he swore he'd never let her go again, never lose her the way he did before. His hand moved of its own volition, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

"Not a chance," he insisted.

Her heart sank thinking about the implications of a promise such as that. A curse slipped from her lips as she looked away, unsure how to make him walk away. A flash of black robes caught her eye just before a brown light rushed toward them.

"Down!" She shouted, pulling Harry away from the wall. The spell hit centimeters from them, causing mortar to shower over them. Three succeeding spells flew from Hermione's wand as she shoved Harry around the corner. Spellfire rained down on them as they sprinted down the now empty streets. Had it really only been an hour before these streets were congested with families and shoppers? Buildings seemed to explode all around, pelting them with brick and glass as they sprinted through the alleyways.

Whenever she could, Hermione continued to throw spell after spell toward the black figures that pressed down upon them. Harry nearly tripped when he realized not a single incantation had been spoken by either side. The duel was taking place completely in silent casting.

A sizable piece of brick caught his left leg, sending him sprawling. Even with his years of Quidditch training, his reflexes couldn't keep him on his feet. He shouted to Hermione, telling her to keep running to get away. They're after me. They'll leave her alone. He assured himself, but they didn't. The hooded forms advanced on her without hesitation. A large orb of grey light exploded in the street. The force threw the cloaked figures twenty meters back giving Harry a chance to sprint back to her side. Left. Right. Left. Left. Right again. They were running blindly through alleys and streets. Hermione never seemed to commit to a new direction until it was nearly too late. It was becoming painfully clear that she wasn't familiar with the renovations that had been made after the war. Another building shattered to her left. A large piece of glass caught her, but she never faltered. She merely sent a black blast behind her and continued on sure footing. At last, Harry recognized a patch of lighter-colored stone as an apparition point. He latched on to her wrist and apparated them to his flat. As he steadied himself against the door he felt another pull. Then another. And another. By the fourth apparition, he was barely able to stand from nausea and a pulsing headache.

"Herm-" His mouth continued to say her name, but the sound of his voice was gone. She had placed a silencing charm on him. A nonverbal silencing charm he noted. She continued to scan the dank alley wand steady as she searched. When she was satisfied, she allowed her shoulders to slouch in relief. With a mere flick of her hand, the silencing charm lifted.

"They haven't followed us. We should be clear." Her voice was tight and authoritative. She certainly had experience running from whoever found them in Diagon Alley.

"Who were they? What did they want?"

A pinched look crossed her face before she slid back into her neutral mask. But her eyes held an intensity that had never been there before she vanished. "You can leave right now and not get yourself involved. In fact, you should leave. Now that you've seen for yourself the kind of trouble I've gotten myself into. I can't be certain they saw your face, but I will do what I can to make sure you're clear. Until then, you may want to go underground. But you have to walk away now. After this, there's no way out. You'll be back on the run again. But you still have a chance to walk away and go back to your life."

He met the challenge in her eyes. "Where to next?"

"Harry, listen to me. If you come with me, that's it. No turning back. Nothing will be the same, maybe not ever again. Do you really want that?" She took a deep breath and wetted her lips. The air suddenly felt tight and sparse around her. "You don't have to do this. All you have to do is walk away and forget you saw me."

He knew the gravity of the situation. He understood just how it felt to shoulder this kind of life-altering burden. And he also understood that the woman in front of him had never let him shoulder that alone, and now, he wouldn't allow her to either. His hand grasped hers in a silent vow.

"Do we walk or apparate from here?"

The tiny, quick exhale she made was her only indication of relief. She couldn't voice it, because then she would have to admit she hadn't wanted him to walk away. She'd have to admit she was glad he was choosing her. He couldn't be completely sure, but he thought her hand tightened around his just a fraction.

"Just one more," she mumbled before turning on the spot.

They landed side by side on the front stoop of a small house. The bright colors were not at all what Harry imagined this harder, calloused Hermione to live in. But, regardless of his opinion, the wards surrounding the quaint home dropped at her touch, and she aptly slid a key into the lock. She quickly ushered him in before reinstating the wards and using the muggle locks.

She breezed by him into the living room while he rested a hand against the wards. They were far more complex than the ones they used on the horcrux hunt. He wasn't sure he'd even be able to lift them if needed.

"Are you going to admire the wards all night?" she called out from the chair she'd occupied next to the fire. The living room was completely furnished, telly and all. The decorative pillows that crowded the couch barely left room for someone to sit. This house couldn't belong to any version of Hermione, but he was almost afraid to ask. Instead, he chose to focus on relearning her, carefully observing the rigidness of her posture, the neutral expression she constantly wore. The haunted look in her eyes as she stared into the fire, mind turning.

He laid a hand on her shoulder to draw her back in but pulled back when he felt something wet on her jacket.

"You're bleeding, Hermione."

She attempted to turn to look at her injury but only managed to catch a glimpse.

"Let me," Harry offered, gently sliding the jacket past her arms for her. She took the leather in her hands and frowned.

"That was my good jacket too," she pouted, fingering the tear. "Perhaps I can mend it."

Harry almost remarked about her flippant response to being injured. Concerned about her torn jacket seemed as if it should be the last worry on her mind, but he remained silent attributing her odd response to shock.

The cut was only a few centimeters deep, but it was far longer than he had hoped. The glass embedded in her shoulder was roughly eight centimeters. He expected her to grimace, jump, some sign of pain, as he pulled the glass out and cleaned the area, but she was stone still. No whimper, no moan. Not even as he sealed the wound.

"When did you get so good at healing charms?" Her voice caused Harry to drop his wand midway through casting a pain relief charm.

"Went through part of the Healers program a while ago. Didn't really know what I wanted to do. After the war, I sort of just floated through, trying different things. Thought I might give healing a go. I figured there had been enough damage to the world, maybe I could do some good for it. Didn't really stick though. Went maybe six months through before I quit. I was just too restless to be in one spot for long."

Softly, he trailed a finger down the length of the cut. "I should take you to Mungos," he sighed, ducking under the chair to find his wand. "I have it sealed and cleaned, but it isn't fully healed. I did more emergency onsite healing. Stabilize and move was our game."

"This is fine. Better than I'd have managed on my own. Thank you," she murmured, pulling herself from the chair. He jumped to his feet and clasped her wrist as she passed by, anchoring her there. The strength of his grip told her he was afraid she would run.

"I just need to clean up and change clothes," she reassured him, pulling his hand away from her wrist. "That's all."

"We'll talk when you finish then? We will talk about all of this, right?"

She scrutinized him for a moment. Hermione realized she hadn't truly studied this older version of him. His hair was shorter, neatly kept despite dueling and several apparitions. He was taller than she remembered, nearly a head taller than her. But what struck her most was how his eyes were still the same behind those familiar round-rimmed glasses. They were kind and open, caring and deep as always.

"Do you still trust me?"

His verbal response wasn't immediate, though his physical one was. And that gave Hermione the answer she knew he wouldn't say. As his eyes drifted to her left arm searching for that Dark Mark, she knew. She stepped away from him, unconsciously tucking her arm to her side.

"Good. That's good. Because the old rules are back in play. Trust no one." To his surprise, she smirked a bit before adding, "Not even me."

He attempted to reach for her again, but she was quicker. When did she become quicker? he wondered. "Hermione, I didn't mean it like-"

"It's okay. I understand. I've been gone a long time, and I am certainly not the same person as when I left. I don't blame you for not trusting me. I actually commend you for it."

"Hermione, I do trust you." He reached for her again, but this time, she let him take her hand. "I wouldn't have come with you if I didn't trust you, would I?"

A small, meek smile took her as she pulled her hand from his. "Maybe one day you'll believe that once again." Quiet as a whisper, she slipped from the room further into the house, leaving Harry to wonder if he would ever understand her again.

A/N: For more to accompany this story, check out my Instagram annonymouslyblonde for chapter previous and any artwork that inspired this piece. Also, check out the songs that inspired this story too: playlist/6mVUvFfZGICJLlL01rehd0?si=96b2ce4d22f645fb

And lastly, come hang out with me on discord! /YMErDmfTZb