(A/N): Before I forget to mention, regarding my disclaimer, in this particular fan fiction, Sirius is dead, and as of Monday, September 26, 2005 at 9:50pm, thanks to the two people who have reviewed my story so far, the 100 people who have read it, and the two people who have added this story to your favorites list! Reviews and constructive criticism are welcome! School is somewhat hectic for me… so if I disappear for long periods of time, I'm doing piles and piles of infinite homework and studying. In case you're wondering where I got the title for the story, it was a total The Fox and the Hound inspiration. Please don't laugh. You don't mean to tell me that you didn't like that movie when you were little? Well, I still do and I'm proud of it! The title of the chapter comes from one of the songs from The Phantom of the Opera soundtrack. As I tell everyone, the 2004 version is a must-see! If you haven't seen it, you're missing out a lot! All of those who have seen it and think it's the best movie ever, give me a high five raises hand. But, back to the fanfic, Thanks again -- ………………

Disclaimer: I wish I did own Harry Potter, but, sadly I don't. Trust me, if I did, Sirius would not be dead. But, then again, that's why I love fan fictions. I can make the story go any way I want. evil glint in eye Muahahahaha!

Chapter Two

Wishing You Were Somehow Here Again

There was something about the sky that night that changed everything. As Hermione looked to the stars that night, it seemed to turn her world around. Not very many people could understand her pain. Not her fans, not her friends… except for Harry. You stupid idiot, Hermione thought, but, then again, a lot of brilliant people do stupid things. As she sat on that lonely porch, nothing could make her feel worse than reliving the night's events. She felt bad… she really did, but she couldn't do much about it. She had already made her choice.

There was a slight, almost calming breeze. Her now wavy hair billowed about her face. A few young trees were swaying against the wind… and there was a barely audible noise that caught her attention immediately. After a few minutes, she could see a cloaked figure walking towards her in the darkness. This figure was almost impossible to see unless, of course, someone would happen to be expecting this figure to arrive.

Before long, the visitor arrived on the porch. Hermione smiled, and, without a word handed the man the piece of parchment she had shown Ron. "It's been a while," she said after a moment of silence. "It's been a very lonely while without you."

"That's not what it looks like to me," said a soft voice coming from the cloak. "You didn't seem so lonely tonight."

"If I wasn't an author for the magical world, I could pass as a decent muggle actress."

A snort of laughter followed her statement.

"I still missed you," Hermione said.

There was no answer, only the feeling of human flesh on Hermione's hand. In the darkness, Hermione smiled to herself. She squeezed her companion's hand, not knowing when the next visit would be. The silence was never broken. Another beautiful moment in which there was still some hope… only a fool's hope, but, hope nonetheless.

When dawn arrived, Hermione awoke. She had been placed on one of the sofas in her house. "Wait," she whispered before her visitor left. There was a pause in the footsteps leaving the room. "Don't stay away so long next time."

"I won't."

Content with the answer, but still knowing it would be a long time, Hermione allowed her heavy eyelids to fall. There was such a harmonious feeling around her. There was just a feeling of perfection; one that would only last until she woke in a few hour's time.

Ron awoke that morning feeling light as a feather. He raced out of bed that morning, guzzled breakfast, and headed to work. There was a smile glued to his face that morning that made a few of his co-workers stare at him in confusion. A few stopped him in the hall and asked if he was feeling well. He laughed and gave a few of them hugs. He was in a very, very good mood.

"Mr. Weasley!" rang through the hallway that morning as his favorite journalist spotted him that morning.

Surprisingly, he turned around to acknowledge the woman. Amy Beal was a strange woman, with eyes the size of dragon eyes. Her square face was also home to a huge, hooked nose and miniscule lips that left her face looking very uneven. She had short blonde hair and wore ridiculous square glasses lined with rhinestones that usually alerted Ron of where she was. Despite her petite height and her tiny lips, she was the proud owner of a huge mouth.

"Mr. Weasley, what are your plans to capture our infamous Harry Potter? After your childhood friendship, do you think you're giving him a break? A few of our sources state that you see this case much like that of Sirius Black. Is that true? Do you think Harry's fate will end up the same as his beloved godfather? What is your outlook on this whole affair? Where do you think Harry will strike next?"

"You know what I think, Amy?" Ron asked her calmly.

"What?"

"I think you need a vacation." Without another word, Ron left her standing there befuddled at his words. For the first time, she didn't follow him and continue her endless questions.

Ron opened the door of his office. Hermione was sitting there, tears in her eyes. She didn't notice him walk in and stared out into nowhere. He moved closer to her, but, she didn't move a muscle. He kneeled at her side and grabbed her hand.

"Hermione," he whispered softly, "what's wrong?"

She looked at him and wiped the tears away. "Nothing at all," she replied and smiled at him. "I'm just feeling a little weary this morning."

On her lap, a folder rested and Ron had a feeling he knew exactly what it was. "More evidence?" Ron asked grimly.

"Ron, if you would just listen to me—"

"We've been through this before."

"But,"

"No buts."

Hermione's tears returned and Ron's heart sank.

"That's all you care about, isn't it?"

"No," Hermione said immediately.

"Hermione, you only care about proving Harry innocent. You could care less about me. You're willing to do anything for him! I know it."

In a flash of rage, Hermione stood up and walked out, closing the door behind her. Ron eyed the folder on his desk. A small part of him wanted to read it, but, an even smaller part wanted Harry to stay away so Ron could have Hermione to himself, but, it looked like that wasn't working out too well.

He grabbed the folder and opened it. Inside was a stack of papers and two newspaper clippings that quickly caught his attention. He considered both of these and grabbed his magnifying glass. He examined both pictures. It was probably some small detail Hermione immediately picked up, he thought. He examined both colored pictures, and there it was; the very smallest detail that stood out like a sore thumb. Harry's eyes were green, but, the boy fleeing the scene had brown eyes. Ron looked at the photo unbelieving.

"It was probably a bad camera," he said to himself and tossed the folder to the side.

The good mood that had followed him to work that morning disappeared quickly. From that point on, everything had gone wrong. He received yet another howler from his mother regarding the dinner invitation that he had forgotten and how his father had been looking forward to seeing him. He ran into Amy a few more times who had recovered from her early morning shock. Nothing went right that afternoon and things didn't get too much better that evening. Instead of dinner, Ron decided he would visit his favorite adolescent hangout, The Three Broomsticks.

The place was the pretty much the same. Madame Rosemerta had aged a lot. I can't believe I fancied her, he thought to himself grimly his mind traveling back to Hermione. Ron had always had a hard time understanding and analyzing Hermione, and he was now more confused than ever. One moment, Ron felt like he really, really mattered to her, but, then there were times when he felt that Hermione's only real concern was proving Harry innocent, no matter what.

For some reason, Ron had a very uneasy feeling. He felt as if he was being watched. He turned several times, but, saw no one. Several of the wizards seeing him do this repeatedly whispered among each other and gave small chuckles. You're just a stupid, paranoid idiot, he thought trying to reassure himself, but, at this point nothing could make him feel safe.

Hermione sat on that porch for endless hours, just waiting. "Any minute now," she repeated again and again. At about midnight, she gave her hope. Very slowly, she walked back into the house, hoping to Merlin that Harry was safe. She could only pray that she wouldn't open the Daily Prophet the next morning to see that Harry had been thrown in Azkaban; that would be the worst news ever. She entered her room and collapsed on the huge, queen sized bed. "Until tomorrow then," she whispered to herself and fell into an uneasy slumber.

You were once my one companion
You were all that mattered
You were once a friend
Then my world was shattered .
Wishing you were somehow here again
Wishing you were somehow near
Sometimes it seemed if I just dreamed,
Somehow you would be here
Wishing I could hear your voice again
Knowing that I never will .
Dreaming of you won't help me to do
All that you dreamed I could
Passing bells and sculpted angels,
Cold and monumental,
Seem, for you, the wrong companions -
You were warm and gentle
Too many years fighting back tears
Why can't the past just die?
Wishing you were somehow here again
Knowing we must say goodbye
Try to forgive teach me to live
Give me the strength to try
No more memories, no more silent tears
No more gazing across the wasted years.
Help me say goodbye…

(Excerpt from "Wishing You Were Somehow Here Again"

From The Phantom of the Opera Original Soundtrack)

(A/N: Thanks again to everyone who actually reads this fanfic. I have a couple more ideas for some new ones, but, I'm afraid that if I start the others, I'll never continue this one. What do you guys think? Is this one worth continuing, or does it suck? Email me at or just submit a review to give me your opinion. Tankies