_ The Day You Lost Me _

CHAPTER 2

"A Little Too Late"

Harry threw his gloves into his locker. He slammed the door shut, and leaned his head against it, trying to balance himself out. He should not have had that bottle of firewhiskey. What was he thinking? He banged his head against the locker door, trying to knock some sense into it. He should not have had that second bottle of firewhiskey. Bang. Bang. Bang. He should not have had that third bottle of firewhiskey.

"Harry?" Ron called out, entering the locker room. He found Harry leaning, completely hammered, against his locker, looking ready to pass out. "Harry?" Ron said more urgently, catching his friend as he fell backwards in the attempt to check who'd come in. "What – the – bloody – hell – are you doing?" Ron said, falling slightly under Harry's weight. He shifted, half-walking, half-carrying Harry out of the room. "Are – are – you and Ginny talking yet?"

Harry made an incoherent noise, which Ron took as a "No."

"All right," Ron said, "Hold on tight then." With one fluid motion, Ron spun – having thankfully learned how to safely apparate - and they landed in his apartment, Harry tumbling onto the floor.

Harry grunted slightly, forcing his eyes open, and trying to reign over his senses.

"Ron?"

"Tell me," his friend said, heaving him onto his feet and towards the living room. Ron pulled out his wand and gave it a flick, causing blankets and a pillow to appear on the couch (a handy trick learned from his mother). He dropped his friend on it unceremoniously, causing Harry to jerk awake again. "Tell me why is it that the one day a year when I find you completely smashed happens to be Hermione's birthday?"

"It's…Hermione's birthday?" Harry mumbled, setting his head against the pillow with a thud.

"I'm not stupid, Harry," Ron said, sitting on the armchair nearby. "I know you miss her." He sighed. "It's been four years, after all."

"I'm…the one…who told her to go, remember?"

"I remember," Ron said softly.

"Damn it, Ron!" Harry cried out, very much unlike himself, a side Ron was used to seeing on this particular day. "I miss her." Pause. "And I'm sorry. I'm so…bloody…sorry."

"Keep telling yourself that, mate," Ron said sadly. "You're not going to admit any of this tomorrow, Harry, you know that, right?" Ron relaxed a little, and decided that, given the situation, he should atleast get something out of Harry's drunkunness. "Harry, in this drunken, sorry state you're in, I have to ask you, mate – if you could have a do-over, would you change the way things ended?"

"I wouldn't have told her to go," Harry said, sounding oddly sober. Ron looked at him. He still seemed smashed. "I wouldn't have…I wouldn't have let her go…" Harry opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling. "I…I wouldn't…bloody…this…this won't change anything, Ron."

"What do you mean?"

"This…this won't bring her back," Harry sighed, "Do you…do you wonder where she is right now?"

"Knowing Hermione, she'd probably be in some tombs or whatever…"

"Studying runes…" Harry said, smiling weakly. He looked oddly serious, but there was a glint in his eye that told Ron the Boy-Who-Lived was fighting to stay awake.

"Just goes to show we both don't know her, huh?" Ron said, chuckling slightly.

"What do you mean?"

"Hermione, mate. Sometimes I think we don't know her. Like we never figured her out."

"I thought we had."

"And what conclusion did you come to, Harry?"

"Hermione…Hermione wants to live. But she can't because her own subconscious won't let her relax." Harry paused, as though all this thinking was giving him a headache. He continued, "She's always debating on the inside, weighing her decisions. And in the end she always picks logic, even though she knows deep down inside that sometimes logic can't make her happy." Harry groaned slightly as the headache took hold of his mental abilities.

"Oh," Ron deadpanned. Harry had done his homework. "That's what I was about to say."

Harry snorted. "Really?"

"Yeah," Ron said, keeping his end up. "We never gave her that much credit, now did we?"

"Not at all."

"So…so would this be considered our punishment?"

"No, no, no," Harry said, looking strained as he argued. "Our punishment would be losing her, Ron. We haven't truly lost her – she walked away. We just haven't tried to find her. If we wanted to, we could probably just Accio her here." He had a fierce determination in him, which, Ron noted, made him look like he was trying to make himself believe his own words.

Ron raised an eyebrow. "And you don't want to look for her, then?"

"I do. Some days I just want to drop everything and apparate and start looking for clues and all that stupid shit."

Ron snorted. "Then why haven't you, Holmes?" Harry inwardly cursed letting Ron read books on the muggle detective.

"Life. It gets in the way, Watson. Tell me this, I know you're just as willing as I am to drop everything and search for Hermione, but are you willing to just leave Luna behind?" Harry tried to relax. He'd bought himself some time with that question. Ron wasn't going to answer it, atleast not directly.

Ron reddened slightly at the mention of Luna's name. No, he wouldn't, and that was the truth.

"It can't be done," Ron said after a minute of thought.

"It can't. And until life itself hits the pause button for the both of us, we can't do anything about it."

"That's where I think you're wrong, Harry. We could – we could anything for her. She's our best friend. A third of our trio."

"I know, I know. I just…I can't bring myself to, Ron. I mean…what if we don't find her? Or, worse, what if we do find her, but she wants nothing to do with us?"

"That isn't Hermione, mate. She wouldn't turn us down."

"Maybe, but I don't want to risk it." In the name of Merlin's pants, he was drunk. And he was going to take the stubborn route and get away with it.

"Come on, Harry – what happened to the wizard I used to know?"

To this, Harry smirked. "I got married, Ron. That's what happened."

And then he shut his eyes, and dozed off.

Ron looked at his best friend.

"You make more sense when you're drunk, Harry," he said, shrugging, before standing and walking out the door to join Luna for dinner.

O – O – O – O – O – O – O – O – O – O

"Do you really want to do this?" Becky asked, handing Hermione a pair of dragon hide gloves. Hermione pulled them on.

"Yes. This is fun."

Becky rolled her eyes. Becky, another friend Hermione had met during work, was a muggleborn, which meant that she could enjoy the muggle activities both girls found enjoyable, like shopping, or going to the movies, or riding rollercoasters – in Becky's case. But she could also understand the joys of magic, though it still confused her why Hermione was taking this latest assignment so…easily.

"You're going in there, to break this rune thing that no one's dared go near, and you're being very peppy about it. Did you hit your head this morning?"

"What do you mean?" Hermione asked, concentrating as she repacked her bag with useful things to take into the tomb. She was packing in a sneakoscope, to which Becky raised an eyebrow. Hermione shrugged at her; it had been an acquired habit since the end of the war – to always bring a sneakoscope. It was mostly Harry's idea, and it was a habit that Hermione tried her best not to associate with Harry. It was difficult, however, not to remember him. But she was happy, with or without the Boy-Who-Lived and the Weasel-King.

Becky took a different approach. "What did your friends use to say when you did things as stupid as this?"

"Friends?"

"You know who I'm talking about, Hermione. Two nights ago I got you drunk off some vodka, and you started telling me about your adventures together with Ron –"

"Weasel-King," Hermione deferred. She would not use their real names. She'd built a whole new life for herself, and it would be nice to not have to think about the past. Just like Harry had told her: I don't want to turn back, Hermione. Too many things behind me I'd rather not see again.

Dear Merlin, had she really memorized his words? Well, yes, she told herself. Ofcourse she had. No matter the outcome of the present, the Boy-Who-Lived did mean something to her in the past, something no lie out of her mouth could deny.

"-and Harry Potter," Becky said.

"The Boy-Who-Lived," Hermione said softly.

"More like the Boy-Who-Broke-Your-Heart," Becky teased in a singsong voice. Hermione made a gestured, looking flustered. At times Becky reminded her of Luna. She had the same disarray of hair, except that it was deep red. Not Weasel-Red…like…Darker. Hermione almost snorted at her own silliness.

"Harry never broke my heart, Beck. It wasn't like he ever owned it." Hermione heaved her bag, and stared in shock. Becky had suited up as well. "You're coming with?"

"Ofcourse I'm coming with! It's your birthday and you're trying to get yourself killed!" Becky started to pack her own bag. "But if you think I'm going to lunge at the surges of evil power, forget about it. I'm just providing support. Plus if you bang your head really hard, I can get you to safety."

Hermione snorted. "Thanks, Beck," she said, meaning it.

"You're welcome," Beck said proudly, smirking. "And I'd like to add that yes, Ha – The Boy-Who-Lived – he owned your heart. You may not have outright loved him at that time, Hermione, but you gave him your heart to care for. He just kind of…dropped it."

"Whatever, Beck," Hermione said unsurely, as both girls made it for the entrance of the Tomb.

If Hermione were to think it over, not that she hadn't already, then yes, maybe at some point she gave Harry her heart to care for. It just seemed so right at that moment, especially when they were on the run and Ron had temporarily abandoned them. Harry treated her like…like something more than a sister. Curse the boy. She never believed in all that sort of rubbish. She never thought of Harry as a brother. There was something deeper. She cared about him. And he cared about her, and in Hermione's point of view that's what it was: Caring. Nothing to do with filial attachment. But apparently the Boy-Who-Lived saw it another way. And Becky was right. Harry did drop her heart. It was what made her right when she'd told Weasel-King corrct: I'm just prepared so that if it does end poorly, I won't look like the sorry loser who let herself get into it too much.

She should have been prepared. But, as Hermione refused to admit, she hadn't been prepared that time. She'd thought too much of the situation. And didn't give way to things otherwise illogical. Which, another thing Hermione refused to admit, made the Weasel-King right when he'd said: All you do is think, and think, and think! And what good has it done to you? There are some things in life you can't handle by using your brain, or logic, because in the end you'll be the stupidest of them all!

How Weasel-King was right.

Pushing the thought aside, Hermione held up her wand in unison with Becky, and both girls said firmly, "Lumos!"

The insides of the tomb were… "Wet?" Becky asked, sounding surprised.

Hermione frowned at the water they had suddenly stepped into. "Wet," she confirmed. "Come on, let's go."

They trudged forward, sending water everywhere. The water level rose as they went lower, all the way to their shins.

"So, Hermione, what're you going to do to celebrate your birthday?"

"Celebrate? Not exactly the topic of the moment, is it, Beck?"

"I prefer to think of good things in situations like this," Becky said, causing Hermione to laugh. "Will you atleast try a spell to get rid of all this water?"

Hermione stopped. Had she really not thought of that? Where was her head today? "Oh. Right." She raised her wand above her head, and cast a nonverbal spell. A gust of wind blew up at the ceiling. The water rose, following its course.

"Epic," Becky said. Hermione grinned. This was going to be easy. "Uh – Hermione!" Becky suddenly cried, pointing at the ceiling. The water, which had begun to roll itself, began to unleash itself again. It fell, hitting both girls flatly, causing them to fall. They were soaked…and…floating? "Hermione – Hermione!" Becky cried as a new current drove them deeper down. "There's more water now!"

"I know, Beck!" Hermione cried out, trying to pull herself up. Hermione tried to speak, before something pulled her down. She screamed at this, unfortunately taking in some water once her head was under.

"Hermione!" Becky bellowed. She could see the rapid water spread as Hermione was pulled down under - her friend was nowhere to be seen. "Hermione!"

Hermione saw herself being pulled down what looked like a whirlpool made just for her. She held her breath, hoping it'd be over soon. She was pulled as though it was a roller coaster – or better yet, a floo network. Then she was in a large room. There was no space at all for air. The entire thing had been submerged in water. Hermione tried to hold her breath a little longer, but it wasn't working out well. What was she going to do?

Weasel-King's voice came to her in her head: Are you a witch or not?

Just like first year, she thought, before pointing her wand at her head and casting another spell.

Gasping for air, she felt at her bubble, having successfully cast the Bubblehead Charm. She looked around the room. A jet of water made its way to her, and cut her across the knee. She shrieked slightly. A grindylow? She could barely see it. Were they really that fast? The books never said –

Hermione shrieked again as another another jet of water cut her across the arm. Her blood floated thinly through the water. She looked around, searching for the source of all of this. Another jet of water sprung from seemingly nowhere, trying to pull off her bubblehead. It failed, and scraped at her stomach instead. Whipping her head around, she searched for a way out. She tried to ram her head for a solution to this problem. A spell – something.

She could hear another jet of water coming towards her, and turned.

"REDUCTO!" she bellowed. The jet of water split, as though she was ripping it apart. It peeled off itself, and became six jets. They were tainted black, like ink, and started to surround her, pulling at the bubblehead, pulling at her clothes, pulling at her flesh. She screamed loudly, trying to get them off with a variety of spells. Nothing seemed to work. When she'd cast something, they'd spread to avoid the hit. How was she going to - No.

They got through. She didn't even have a moment to react. They tore off the bubble, and she was surrounded by the water again as they took hits at her face, which she tried to hide in her arms. She held her wand tightly, for they tried taking it. What the – she tried to punch them away. They had her on her back, and she could see more specs of blood mixing with the water and their black substance. She could see, foggily, the top of the chamber…and an orb. A green, shiny orb. Green…like Harry's eyes.

"Reducto…" she murmured, raising her hand and her wand. The spell cast, before her wand was tugged out of her hand effortlessly, and she felt herself taking water into her lungs, passing out in the water.

O – O – O – O – O – O – O – O – O – O

"Ron," Luna called out. Ron and Harry turned to see her coming to them across the crowd at Diagon Alley. She had packages in her arms, which Ron took no hint of helping her with. Harry stepped on Ron's foot, guiding his friend, who suddenly understood, and took all the packages from Luna. "Thank you, Harry," Luna said in her far-away voice, to which Ron reddened and Harry grinned. She turned to Ron. "That's everything we'll need for tonight's dinner." Ron gaped at her like a fish out of water. "Oh, Ron – have you forgotten? Your parents and Harry and Ginny are coming over!" Ron sighed as the memory flooded back into his mind. "You and Ginny are coming, right, Harry?" Luna said, turning to Harry.

"Er – what did she say?" Harry asked quietly, avoiding Luna's eyes.

"Are you two still fighting?" Luna asked, frowning. "Maybe you have –"

"There's nothing in their house, Luna," Ron said, knowing she was about to go on about some peculiar creature or another.

"I said 'maybe', Ron," Luna said, grinning sheepishly. "Are you dropping me off to work, then?" she asked him.

"Er – sure. Harry's coming along though. We're heading to the Burrow after this."

"All right," Luna said, leading the way. Ron grinned after her, and Harry pulled him by the arm. They followed Luna to St. Mungo's, where she was working as a healer. "Hi, Gladys – how's your afternoon?"

Gladys, the healer at the front, looked up at Luna, ready to reply, then caught sight of Ron and Harry. Her eyes widened slightly, and she shut her mouth, which had been hanging open at the sight of them.

Ron leaned back towards Harry and said, "You'd think they'd stop with this staring thing by now."

Harry just shook his head at Ron.

Luna spoke again, "What is it?" she asked, cocking her head to one side.

Gladys, however, turned to Harry.

"Room 102."

Ron gaped at Harry, who was looking very surprised.

"Excuse me?" Harry asked Gladys. The young witch's mouth trembled slightly.

"Hermione Granger," she said in a whisper. "Hermione Granger is in Room 102."

A/N: Ah! Atlast.

Redbird27: Hahaha, I know, Hermione seemed very selfish there in the last chapter. Forgive me for that. But it was intentional to make her seem like a prick so that there'd be a rift between the three of them.

Ryoko05: I had the general idea for this story in my head before I had a chance to read any of these comments. I agree with you about how it'd be nice to see Hermione branch off from the boys and be happy. She's definitely branching out in this story, I promise. As for a Muggle guy friend, I'm still considering it. I gave her Becky as a co-worker here, but I'm getting rid of Becky in the next chapter so I can focus more on Harry and Hermione. But I'll keep what you said in mind.

TO ALL THOSE WHO REVIEWED: Thanks! It prompted me into a frenzy, and that's what created this chapter here :) And it also prompted me to update so quickly. I hope I can keep up this speed in later chapters :)

And a special callout to my 'Customs' Muse - Thanks for giving me the 'Go' signal :)

REVIEW! HI!