Intro

Yesterday was the start of NaNoWriMo. For anyone that doesn't know what this is it's National Novel Writing Month. Every day in the month of November people try to write a minimum of 1,613 words of a novel. The goal, by the end of the month is to have written 50,000 words. It's not easy to do. I don't always succeed, but I keep trying.

This year I don't have a story idea. I've been dealing with writer's block for years now. So, I'm going to try writing a one-shot each day. I'm hoping that my muse will come out of hiding and I can finish the dozen stories I've started.

Anyhow, these will not be edited because we're not supposed to look back, only forward. So, I apologize in advance for how bad this may be.

Since I haven't written all 31 short stories, I haven't a clue if there will be pairings or slash or anything trigger worthy so I'm making the rating M just in case!

- Day 01 -

"Harry?"

"Hmm?"

"Harry!"

I can barely open my eyes. I'm so exhausted. But I manage to get them open seconds before the torpedo that is one of my best friends tackles me. I flinch when her body makes contact with mine. It's a good thing I'm already sitting down or she'd have bowled me over. Hermione's hugs have always been on level with Mrs. Weasley. I don't bother stopping the smile that splits across my face and I lean into the warmth of my friend. I can't remember the last time I had physical contact with anyone.

It feels good.

Now I have a face full of frizzy hair, so I don't bother opening my eyes again and just... feel.

Her voice is muffled in my shoulder, but I can feel her trembling. That can't be good. I try to ease her worries by running my hand up and down her back. That doesn't work. Hermione's crying even harder now. I'm at a loss at what to do. I've never been good with emotional people and since the war ended, there's been a lot of weeping. Too many good people died.

Hermione is gaining her bearings and pulls away while still sniffling. I flop back against the couch, my eyes refusing to open and I wait to hear what's wrong. I'm not trying to be rude. I really do care about my friend and her troubles, it's just that I'm physically unable to do much more than exist right now. I don't have long to wait before Hermione starts, "Where did you go?"

My head lolls to the side as I try to look at her. I could sleep for days right now, "I told you I had to run an errand. I needed to go to the school to check on something."

"Harry..."

"Hmm..."

"That was thirty years ago."

"I... what?" My eyes fly open at that... and I see her clearly for the first time. She still looks the same... mostly. Same caramel eyes, frizzy brown hair and she's biting her bottom lip like when she's trying to figure out a way to break the bad news to me and she knows I'm about to lose my temper.

"Harry," Hermione speaks slowly as if speaking to a skittish animal, "You've been gone for thirty years. Where have you been?"

Without my bidding, my hand rises and I brush my fingertips along her forehead, down her temple and cup her cheek. There are fine lines, crinkles around her eyes... sure signs of laughter. That's good. Hermione deserves happiness, but the wrinkles across her forehead shows she's had her share of worries, too. Hermione's eyes well with fresh tears, as do mine. I brush the tears with my thumb and drop my hand. "Thirty years?" Hermione nods, my head automatically follows suit and I nod with her, "No wonder I'm tired."

"But Harry," She starts, but I shake my head and her words stop.

"Remember the day that I went to the school?" Hermione nods while I'm still nodding with her, "The hallows came back to me the night before. I wanted to see if I could find the resurrection stone in the forest, but of course it wasn't there. It was in my pocket." My eyes slip closed again. I can't look at her while I tell her what happened... I just can't bear to see the look of pity I know that will follow. "I tried to leave it behind again. I even buried it in that open area... the one where Voldemort killed me... or tried to. But by the time I made it to the edge of the forest, it was once more in my pocket.

"Then I tried the wand. I broke it again. I threw one half into the lake, the other into the aqueduct, but I didn't make it two steps before it was whole once more and in my pocket with the stone.

"I had misplaced the cloak. Hadn't seen it since we left Shell Cottage. Couldn't remember if I had left it there or with you in that red bag of yours, but that too was somehow in my pocket. It shouldn't have been possible. The pocket hadn't been extended by me and I was pretty certain you hadn't done it, yet all three of those items were in there... and nothing I did would rid me of them."

"What did you do next?"

I look at my friend and give her a tired smile, "I stayed at the school for a while. There had been so much death there. So many souls, lost, wandering and I seemed to be some kind of... beacon to them. Even Binns came... he's gone now. Only ghost that refused to leave the school is Peeves... but then he's a poltergeist, so it stands to reason he'd rather be with the living.

"When I left the school I went to Hogsmeade first. There were nearly as many lost souls there. Next thing I knew, I was wandering from city to town to village. Gathering lost souls and helping them cross, giving them peace of mind."

"You've been wandering for thirty years?"

"I guess so," I shrug. What can I say? I hadn't realized how long I was gone. Every time I thought about coming back to the Burrow something, or rather someone, needed me. Thirty years though? I've missed so much of my friends' lives. "What have I missed?"

"There were a lot of funerals. Ronald was so angry with you for missing Fred's," Hermione winces, "Molly and Arthur were devastated." I wince too. I hadn't even thought... well, no I wasn't thinking at all, just reacting. People needed me and I went. She's still going on about funerals and... "Ron and I got married," That shakes me out of my thoughts. I knew they liked each other. They had been dancing around their feelings for years and then that whole thing at the Battle. I just smile at her. Married. My two best friends. I'm glad they have each other. Hermione blushes and then bites her bottom lip before saying the next bit I'm not going to like hearing, "You were supposed to be the best man."

My eyes slide closed again and I sigh. Damn. My voice is soft when I say, "Ron must have been hurt when I wasn't there." Then I have a thought and look at her, the smartest witch in our decade. She must have at least tried to find me. Right? "What about an owl? Hedwig could always find me. Did you try sending an owl?"

"Of course I did," She says with such a snap in her voice that I know I just insulted her intelligence with that question, but I had to know. "We tried several times. Hedwig was your owl, so it stands to figure she could find you, but with her gone..." Hermione simply shrugs in defeat, "Every owl we sent would just come back with our letter. It got to the point that they didn't bother leaving." Hermione is biting her lip again, her eyes are tearing up as well, "We thought it meant you were... dead."

"I'm sorry," I say. Because I am and because I don't know what else I can say. I hadn't meant to be gone for thirty years.

"We have two children, Rose and Hugo," Hermione begins telling me about every one of our friends, bringing me up to date about their lives, but there is one name Hermione hasn't mentioned yet and I just wait until she's ready to mention her. Finally after a litany of names, marriages, children, grandchildren... it comes, "She waited for you, you know. Refused to give up hope. Said you wouldn't forget about her." I just listen, I refuse to interrupt and there really isn't anything I can say in my own defense. "Ginny went to play with the Holyhead Harpies. She met people, but..." Hermione sighs. I still haven't reacted, just listening. "After ten years, she started dating." That hurts more than I thought it would. I take a deep breath, but keep quiet. Ginny deserves happiness. She really does. "She married Micheal Corner, they have three children..."

My eyes close at this and I can't help but smile, "I bet they're beautiful."

"They could have been yours," Hermione says and I flinch, but don't argue. There's no point. She's not wrong. "Harry?"

"Hmm," I ask and I look at my long time friend.

"I've missed you."

I take her hand in mind and give it a gentle squeeze, "I've missed you, too."

"Oh!" Hermione looks around as if she just realized something, "I need to tell Ronald you're here. And Molly... and George and... oh, Teddy, Harry you have to see him, he's a father now!"

I missed so much of their lives. But I shake my head, "I don't have time for that."

"But, Harry!" Hermione wants to argue with me. She always does. I can't help but chuckle at her. Good old Hermione. She hasn't changed.

I push myself up from the couch and tug her up to stand with me. "It's time to go."

"But," Hermione frowns and looks around in confusion when she hears someone crying in the kitchen. I stop her from running into the other room to see what has happened. She spins on me and is about to argue with me again when I refuse to let go of her hand. "Harry?"

"It's time, my friend," I say and I tug her gently to urge her to follow, "I'm sorry." Hermione looks so confused and I can't help but smile at her. "It'll be okay. Ron has your kids, your kids have Ron and their grandparents."

"I..." Hermione turns when the front door opens and a couple walk in, the man carrying a small bundle in his arms.

"Dad?" The young woman calls out. There's a bit of snuffling coming from the kitchen and a grunt of acknowledgement.

"Rose?" Hermione is surprised to see her daughter. Only Rose doesn't answer. None of the three notice us and Hermione is gasping as the realization comes to her that this small bundle is her grandson. "Harry? What's going on?"

"It's time, Hermione. Ron deserves peace, just like you do. He can't move on until you do."

"I..." Hermione once more turns around and looks at the house we're in. She finally realizes small changes in the decor, her books are dusty and there's no sign of her usual research scattered on her desk. "Oh." Hermione stops and looks at me, "Harry... am I dead?"

"Yes," I admit and nod at the man with her grandson, "Congratulations."

"Can I..." She's biting her lip again, "Can I still watch over them... if I go, I mean?"

"Of course," I agree as I guide her to the door stopping for a moment as the man has finally managed to get his coat off and checks on the squirming infant. He's cooing softly and we both smile at the sight.

"I'm glad it was you that came for me." Hermione nods and takes my hand, "I'm ready."

Day 01 - Prompt: MOD

Word Count: 2126

My word count may not make sense because you won't see the paragraphs I trash yet still count because they're words that I've written... but the count is important to me as it is my motivation.