I finally typed another chapter! I actually began this chapter right after I posted the first, but then we had finals, and I went on a trip, and then I had a summer class and I like to procrastinate. So it took awhile. But I thought about it every day! I swear! I couldn't forget. T.T

Because I typed a little here and a little there for the past two or so months, the tenses are really messed up, I think. Yeah... so... it's really too bad. Have fun reading and review!

Disclaimer: I love Harry Potter, but he ain't mine.

o

Chapter Two

The Burrow was devoid of people. But that was to be expected, right? All the Weasleys were at the wedding and surely no one else (except for maybe the ghoul) lived in the magically built house. Looking around the interior, Hermione found a wall to bang her head against. The thin wall creaked dangerously and a book fell off its self. She glared at the dent her head made. How did this house survive Fred and George?

Deciding that her knowledge wasn't worth losing, Hermione found a sofa crowded with a rainbow of ribbon to sit on. She sank into it and pushed back the lone chunk of curls that had fallen on her face.

She had first gone to Harry's flat in London, a beautiful place decorated especially on Hermione's advice. The walls were a light blue grey lined with simple white molding. The hardwood was a dark wood that resembled mahogany or cherry wood. Glass accents were scattered around the place. There was a soda-fridge in the family room stocked with Muggle fizzy drinks (Sprite, anyone?) and beer. Hermione thought that Harry's first choice was probably home. Sitting around having a glass of beer. Brooding. But she was wrong. The flat was empty of life; even Hedwig seemed to have gone on a hunting trip.

So she had then gone to Hogsmeade, Diagon Ally, and, and, so many other places she couldn't even list them.

This was so frustrating! Feeling that she better leave before everyone else returned, Hermione apparated back to her cozy flat.

o

Harry never thought he would be brave enough to have done that. He never was as brave as everyone thought he was. Even though he had been in Gryffindor, the Sorting Hat did say he would do well in Slytherin…

That's it; he had enough Firewhiskey to light up his day. Groggily, he dropped the single can of Firewhiskey into Hermione's beloved recycle bin. He had thrown previously thrown his robes onto the floor, kicked his shoes away (off they flew into the ceiling before crash landing beside the TV) and thus was spread out on the couch in only his pants. Hopefully, hopefully, Harry prayed, no one would see him like this. Sadly, everything seemed to go against him that day. Just as Harry slumped back against the cushion, a light "Pop" sounded from the entrance hall and the following noises—that sounded suspiciously like someone putting away their shoes—marked the disturber.

Please don't let her see me, Harry thought. Let me blend into the wall. Let the Firewhiskey return back to its former place in the 'fridge. Let the smell of alcohol dissipate.

But that wasn't to happen.

"Harry James Potter," came a shrieking sound. "What the bloody Merlin are you doing here? Here, of all places?"

"Aren't you an angel?" Came a slurred-sarcastic reply.

Hermione took a menacing step towards the couch and caught a whiff of alcohol. "You've been having a drink from my stash, haven't you?" the "angel" growled.

Harry bolted upright, swaying dizzily on the spot. Drops of the potent beer flung all over the place at the sudden movement. Some droplets landed on the couch, some on the coffee table, several on the hardwood floor, and I—the author—swear that one drop landed directly on the tip of Hermione's nose as she stood imposingly in the hallway with her hands on her hips. "Actually…"

Well, at that point, Hermione shrieked in surprise and jumped back a foot… lowered her eyes to somewhere away from Harry, shook her head liked she was having an argument, and like is was against her better judgment, locked eyes with Harry. From Harry's point of view, it was a very funny act. Especially since he knew exactly what Hermione was jumping around at.

"What?" Harry asked, just to humor his best friend.

Hermione pleaded with big doe eyes, "Can you please, pretty please, put on a shirt?"

Harry laughed uproariously, only stopping when his thin pants slipped on the leather couch and no matter what Harry did—flailing his arms, his legs, slapping the cushions—did not prevent him from falling off the seat. Dang, he had to remember that he had too much alcohol. Or was it too little?

Whatever it was, Hermione was the one giggling now. Harry huffing only helped whatever hilarity the book-worm saw. To keep himself entertained as his dear friend laughed herself silly, Harry slid quietly along the floor to the mini-fridge, opening it even quieter and groped with one hand while keeping an eye on Hermione. 'Course, he just couldn't seem to find any Fire whiskey so he had to look. For just one tiny second, half a second, just long enough to see… that! The wonderful bottle of…

And then came a piercing sound through the apartment.

"Hermione," Harry called with his head still in the 'fridge over the subsiding noise, "are you making tea… oh no." As he turned around, dreading what was to come, Harry tried to hide the Firewhiskey bottle behind his back. Full around, he gave a full blown grin to Hermione's face… a face that just happened to be a mere few inches away.

They stared at each other. Hermione was overly mad at Harry for taking two entire bottles from her "secret" stash (how did he know it was there?) because now she had to buy some more. Harry, on the other hand, kept his hopes low at escaping Hermione's grasps unharmed. Think Harry, what to do now?

The next day, when Harry had some time to think things over, he would've readily agreed with anyone who told him that he did something really stupid that day. But all the same… What happen will happen.

So as Harry sat there grinning stupidly to a stony face, he came up with this brilliant plan. As Hermione reached down to snatch the glass bottle out of Harry's hand, Harry reached up, pulled Hermione down, and gave her a kiss on the lips.

Cliché, I know, but at that exact same moment, Ginny and Ron opened the door as they had been searching for Hermione who had mysteriously disappeared after the disastrous wedding (even though Hermione had told Ginny that she was leaving).

"Harry!" Ginny shrieked, her hair bouncing from the impact of the sound.

"Hermione!" roared Ron. How dare Harry steal his girlfriend-to-be! How dare Harry cheat on Ginny. How… how could this have happened?

Harry and Hermione looked up from their twisted position on the floor. Harry had ended up under Hermione who was sitting partway on his lap in Harry's embrace. Curiously, Harry had been tugging off his Deathly Hallow turned Horcrux turned wedding ring and when he turned, his ringer slipped and spun the suddenly loose ring before it fell off his finger and was caught by his other hand.

As Harry and Hermione stared at the brother and sister in unmasked horror, a bright light surrounded the embracing couple before they disappeared.

For the love of… Lily… was the second to last thought of Harry's before the pull of the light overtook him (his last thought was Harry, how could you! Using your mother name in vain, shame on you… But it was nice alliteration… right?)

o

The light slowly faded away, leaving Harry and Hermione in another place.

Underneath them was a smooth stone floor; gray but clean. Around them drifted a thick flog, parting here and there, showing various snippets of color. The air around was thick with a low murmur. Hermione listened very hard and thought she heard a violin, screaming, and a softly whispered "I love you."

The fog parted, and Hermione caught a glimpse of Harry. "Harry," she called, running to his side. He seemed to be breathing evenly. "How are you?"

Harry gave a groan of affirmative, now very much under the effects of alcohol (he won't be talking much in the rest of this chapter but he'll listen and remember everything) when suddenly, another voice broke through the light.

"He's going to be fine. See? He's paying attention to me too! Just like you." The feminine voice giggled.

"Who are you?" asked Harry, trying to peer through the damn annoying fog—at least in Hermione's opinion.

"I," the person suddenly spun into view, "am Atalanta—"

"From the Greek myths?" Interrupted Hermione, sizing up the slender, dark-haired person who was currently bouncing towards them.

Atalanta looked at her incredulously, "No. I was just a person who was sent to inform you that Mr. Harry James Potter decided to spin the Deathly Hallow three times with a thought in mind. However, because the stone had been broken up, something very strange happened. As some select few people know, there are many dimensions in the… universe as we call it. Many worlds. Magic has decreed that you two are to be sent to a different dimension, far different from the one you have just left. First of all, there are no Deathly Hallows, so there is no way back. Second, there are no Horcruxes either, mostly because Horcruxes were a project used in only a few worlds due to a big conference of Fates. However, I do believe that there are is a Voldemort… who has some other method of outliving death? I'm not quite sure, I wasn't listening very well when I was informed of what to tell you. And also, most people are the same, some are different. This ain't traveling back in time, so you can change anything you want, though it wouldn't be called changing. And you can be seen! I suggest you guys understand what's really going on and not just trust what you guys remember is history before you act. I just happened to be named Atalanta. I think my mum thought Atlantis was a beautiful place but didn't want to bluntly shove in everyone's face that she wanted me to be… beautiful…"

Silence.

"Sure… Atalanta," stuttered Harry, "whatever you say."

Atalanta smile serenely, "Well, you'll be dropped off somewhere and then you can start a new life, k?"

Harry started to nod, but Hermione butted in. "You mean we won't have a choice in this? We cant decide whether we really want this? What if we don't want to leave our friends, our families? What if we already have a life we like? Do you even care what we think?"

Another stare. "I'm sorry, but the stone was turned and rules are rules. I thought you would know that best, Hermione. Magic can only do what it can. Nothing is impossible, yes, but can you achieve that? I'm sure you can try and find a way back to your home world. But you won't know where you'll arrive, even what date—unless your 'spell' or 'potion' is so great."

It Hermione's time to stare. "Is there absolutely nothing we can do?" she squeaked. Harry sighed and but a comforting hand on Hermione's shoulder.

"You can try… That's all I know." Atalanta looked so crestfallen. But then she cheered up. "I think I can do this, no one said I can't."

The girl spun around, again. But this time, she raised her arms, beckoning something from the fog, an immense power that overwhelmed Hermione as soon as she felt it come. Atalanta's skit picked up, dancing around the stone floor, a wind came. There was more light. That pained Hermione's eyes. It was bright. But then came a muted light. A thick, smooth, velvety, look that warmed their souls, brought energy and power.

The show died down.

Hermione opened her eyes, "What was that?"

Atalanta's eyes sparkled mischievously. "You'll find out in good time." But as much as her eyes had sparkled, the glimmer quickly died down. The spirit-girl crouched down and lowered her voice so that only the three of them could hear, so the sounds wouldn't escape more into the fog. "Hermione and Harry, remember this, and remind each other whenever needed, to follow your heart. Don't hold onto the past in the place. It is a new life."

With that said and done, Atalanta stood back up, brushing the non-existent dust from her skirt and smoothing the wrinkles. Softly, reverently, she whispered a few last words. "It's time for you two to move on. Have fun, Harry Potter. Hermione Granger."

The fog swallowed the spirit-girl and then consumed the couple.

o