I was quite pleased with the responses I got. I wasn't too sure at how my first story would be perceived, but I'm glad it got positive reviews. I'll keep writing as long as I stay interested, and reviews keep me interested.

J.K. Rowling owns everything, plot is mine.

Chapter 2

That instance was four years ago. After Harry had talked to Neville, he ended the lease on his apartment and got a small home in Liverpool. He hadn't sent the letter to Hermione, wishing to cut off all contact with her. He began a new life, and couldn't face up to his old life. He quit the Auror job and decided to start teaching magic at a very small, private wizarding school. He just needed to get away.

Hermione had become distraught. She had stayed at Harry's for three days, just waiting for him to come back. Ron had owled her many times, but she just threw the letters away. The man she had truly loved had abandoned her, thinking what they had was a mistake. She called herself a fool for even thinking they could be together. Why would Harry ever want her? He had never shown any wanting towards her. She was just plain Hermione, with her brown hair and average figure. He was THE Chosen One. Great smile, fantastic body, loads of money. All the women in the wizarding world wanted a piece of him. Why would he choose her over all the other gorgeous witches? These were the thoughts running through Hermione's mind.

A few days later, she arrived at the apartment she and Ron shared to gather her belongings and move into the small one bedroom apartment she had leased. Ron was passed out on the couch in boxers and an undershirt, with an empty bottle of Firewhiskey lying on the table. Hermione quietly snuck by him, into the bedroom to gather her belongings, when she saw Lavender Brown in their bed. She stared at the witch, no, that bitch, lying in the bed her and Ron had shared. She may have given Ron a chance to explain himself, but this was the final straw. She gathered her clothes, magic supplies, and Crookshanks before leaving the apartment. She was leaving her tears behind.

Present Day

Hermione was sure that it was Harry Potter she had seen leaving Flourish and Blotts. She handed Mrs. Humphrey her coffee and returned behind the counter, stony faced. Mrs. Humphrey and Hermione had developed a bond over the years through passion of books, and Mrs. Humphrey could immediately sense that something was wrong.

Mrs. Humphrey took a sip from her steaming coffee and asked, "Hermione, dear, what's wrong?"

Hermione paused a moment, debating on whether she should tell Mrs. Humphrey the situation and her feelings. Feeling it was too long of a story to tell, Hermione finally spoke, "It's…nothing. It's nothing."

Mrs. Humphrey could clearly tell that it was obviously more than nothing, but didn't speak a word in return. Mrs. Humphrey was 65 years old, and knew when to push a conversation and when not to.

The rest of Hermione's shift drug on, and finally at five o'clock, she clocked out and started the walk back home. She started a warm bath, stripped her clothes off, and lowered herself into the hot-nearly scalding-water. She was exhausted, not just physically, but emotionally. All those feelings from that night had rushed back to her. She had tried her hardest to repress those memories, and had become pretty damn good at it. The only time she ever thought of Harry was the rare mention of his name in the conversations had in the store or when she read it in one of the many books in Flourish and Blotts. She hadn't talked to Ron in over two years, and had little to no contact with any of the Weasleys. Hermione would sometimes have a short friendly conversation with George, as he was one of the more reasonable Weasleys, if they passed each other on their way to work, but that was about it. Hermione had realized how many friends she DIDN'T have when Ron and Harry had both left her life. They were all she really had. She was too busy working at the Ministry to make friends, and had left that job when the stress and reminders of Harry had become too much. Hermione poured herself a glass of wine and returned to her darkened bath, crying herself late into the night.

Harry had walked into Flourish and Blotts looking for some new reading material, as he had read most of his current books at least three times through. Harry had picked up a few interesting titles, and was browsing the shelves when he saw Hermione behind the counter through an empty space on the shelf. He froze and watched Hermione talk to the little old woman at the counter. He watched her face light up when she smiled, and he felt a pang in his heart. There was the woman he had loved. He thought back to that night, and what a mistake he thought it was. He stood watching Hermione for a few moments, before she turned away to go into the back. Harry stood a moment debating on whether he should go up and talk to her, but then finally decided against it. He set his books down on a random shelf and quickly fled the store, just as Hermione was coming from the back.

Harry went to the bar he had come to love, The Hog's Head, owned by Dumbledore's brother, Aberforth. Harry and Aberforth had come to become quite close over the years, and Harry had heard many humorous stories about Dumbledore from the man's brother. Harry wasn't here to reminisce over a nice pint, though. He was here to get hammered and try to make sense of his feelings. When he had shared that perceived magical night with Hermione, he had thought he finally had it made. The girl of his dreams in his bed and his arms. But the empty bed told him otherwise.

Harry took his usual stool on the end of the bar and Aberforth could immediately see the look of despair and sadness in Harry's eyes. Wordlessly, he poured Harry a glass of Firewhiskey and left him alone for a few minutes. They had shared quite a few nights like this, and Aberforth knew the routine. Pour Harry a few shots, let him mellow, then Harry would start talking.

Aberforth knew a little of what Harry and Hermione had been through, so when Harry told Aberforth what he had seen at Flourish and Blotts, Aberforth could understand. He had, after all, been in love once, and let Harry moan and whine to him while being sympathetic. When Harry had finished his sad song, Aberforth apparated himself and Harry into Harry's apartment like many times before. Harry was out before his head hit the pillow, and Aberforth knew Harry would be having heart-breaking dreams of Hermione that night.

The next day, the only thing Harry and Hermione could think of was each other. What pain they were in.

So that's two chapters done in two nights. I'm really enjoying writing this. I've never really thought of myself as a writer, but I can feel the story flowing right from me.

Remember, reviews mean a lot, and more reviews means more interest from me, which means quicker updates. Love, Oh Im Bored.