24 July 2006

Harry Potter sat at the bar, his right hand around the tall pint glass, his left scratching idly at the hair of his beard under his chin. He picked up his cigarette from the ash tray and took a long drag, letting the acrid smoke flow into his lungs before blowing it out and replenishing the cloud he had kept around himself all evening.

He was in a muggle bar in North London, his first time back in England since the war had ended. He looked up to the telly and saw highlights from the past weekend's football flash across the screen and watched them with unseeing eyes for a moment longer, before dipping his head back down and taking another long swallow of the dark bitter beer in his glass.

He reached into his pocket pulling out a few notes and placing them on the bar before standing, grabbing his bag, and making his way to the exit. He sighed when he saw that the rain had begun in earnest and realized belatedly that he hadn't bothered to bring an umbrella with him.

Instead, he slyly snuck his wand from its holster and cast a warming charm upon himself. He reholstered his wand and stuck his hands in his jean pockets, making his way out into the night.

The streets were mostly empty due to the weather and Harry was planning to walk only to the closest inn he could find. He was going to stay in London just until tomorrow so he could make a quick trip to Gringotts, and then he would be on his way again. Out of this country and away from wizards hopefully for the rest of his life.

He felt comfortable enough as his magic staved off most of the cold, but the raindrops still hit him and soon enough he was soaked from the hair on his head down to the well-worn leather of his boots. He noticed the light of a nearby inn and started walking more quickly towards it when a voice caused him to turn suddenly, wand in hand, and a curse on his lips.

"Harry Potter?" It said quietly, hopefully.

The curse died on his tongue and his heart twisted. Standing before him was a woman. She was a head and a half shorter than him, had an umbrella in her hand, and brown wavy hair that had frizzed up from the moisture in the air.

Harry's eyes roved over her face, drinking in the sight of her. Her lips, her nose, those brown eyes, still shining with the same intelligence he had last seen nearly a decade ago.

He attempted to speak, but his words choked in his throat. Finally, after a few more seconds he heard his voice croak out a single word.

"Hermione?"

24 July 2006

Hermione was walking quickly through the rain, her umbrella held over her head, keeping her mostly dry on this miserable summer evening. She had just met with her parents for dinner at their home in Hampstead, but had had one glass too many of wine and decided that she didn't want to risk splinching herself if she tried to apparate back to her own flat.

Instead, she was walking quickly to a magical inn not far from her parents' home where she would use their floo to get to her flat in one piece. The walk was a longer one, and the weather wasn't agreeable, but she had drying and warming charms that kept the worst of it at bay.

In fact, despite the rain, she was actually enjoying the empty streets and lack of foot traffic that the weather and late hour afforded her, and she let her mind drift back to her most recent proposal for divinators and centaurs to work together to discern more accurate readings of the future.

Both sides had been displeased with her original arrangement and she was thinking of ways she could make them happier when movement on the empty streets caught her eyes and pulled her from her thoughts.

A tall man with no umbrella and his hands in his pockets was walking quickly toward a nearby muggle inn. His hair, which was a long mess and as dark as the night, was plastered on his head and a thick medium length beard adorned his thin face.

The man seemed familiar as Hermione looked at him, but it was when she saw his eyes that it all clicked into place. His startling green eyes, framed by round glasses with thin metal rims. The same glasses she had repaired countless times.

"Harry Potter?" She breathed out, not daring to believe it was true, wondering if this were another dream she would wake from just to find that her best friend was not actually there.

The man turned, a slender wood stick in his hand — Holly, she thought absent mindedly — and the forming of a spell on his lips, but Hermione made no attempt to shield herself or duck. Harry would never hurt her.

Sure enough the spell stopped the moment he saw her, his wand dropping along with the hand he held it in. He looked at her, several emotions flitting across his face in rapid succession. Confusion, shock, disbelief, shame.

He looked her up and down almost hungrily, as if he were trying to memorize every curve and line that drew up Hermione Granger, and then he opened his mouth. Hermione's breath stilted, but nothing came out. He closed his mouth with a click and then opened it again.

"Hermione?" He choked out, his voice rough with disuse.

She dropped her umbrella then, running to him. Real or not she was going to enjoy this moment. She was going to stay in her best friends arms until her mind forced her awake. When she awoke, she would lament that it had been nothing more than a dream and berate herself for indulging her desires because deep down she knew this wasn't real. That this was not Harry Potter.

No, it could not be, because the real Harry Potter had died over eight years ago. She had seen his dead body with her own eyes.

Still, she ran to him and when she leapt into his arms he held her. She breathed in his scent, and it was as familiar as if she were in the common room sat beside him, vanilla and spearmint, but now it was mixed with the boozy scent of alcohol and the bitter smell of cigarette tobacco.

Her nerves flared and her pulse quickened. She could hear him inhale sharply through his own nose, taking in her own scent. He was soaked from head to toe, but she didn't care as she clung to him desperately, and the rain poured over the two of them as they stood tangled in their embrace.

Minutes passed, or maybe days, Hermione couldn't be sure, but eventually she pulled away to look up at him. More and more she was trying to convince herself this was real. It felt real. Never before had she smelled him in her dreams, or felt his strong arms hold her so vividly.

She took in the lines of his face, the crows feet at the corner of his eyes, that indicated he smiled more now since she had last seen him. He was more handsome now as well than he had been even in school, and he looked lighter, no longer carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders.

"Harry." She breathed reverently. "Where have you been?"

2 May 1998

"I have spied for you and lied for you, put myself in mortal danger for you. Everything was supposed to be to keep Lily Potter's son safe. Now you tell me you have been raising him like a pig for slaughter— "

"But this is touching, Severus," said Dumbledore seriously. "Have you grown to care for the boy, after all?"

"For him?" shouted Snape. "Expecto Patronum!" From the tip of his wand burst the silver doe. She landed on the office floor, bounded once across the office, and soared out of the window. Dumbledore watched her fly away, and as her silvery glow faded, he turned back to Snape, and his eyes were full of tears.

"After all this time?"

"Always," said Snape.

Harry was pulled from the memory and woke once more in the headmasters office. He laid himself down on the dusty carpet and contemplated all that he had heard. Dumbledore had never intended for him to live through this. No, the headmaster had planned all along to make sure that Harry would walk to his death willingly, with open arms.

He wanted to prove the headmaster wrong, he wanted to leave this godforsaken world and live among the muggles, but the headmaster had known him. Known that he would not abandon them to Voldemort, to allow others to die because of his cowardice. He felt his own heartbeat thump inside his chest and terror washed over him. How many beats did it have left?

He got up from the carpet running his fingers through his hair and wondering idly if death would hurt. He stood there far too long, attempting to steel himself and his resolve to do what needed to be done. As he was preparing to leave the office Ron and Hermione barged in.

They looked at him with relief. "When we couldn't find you, we feared—" Hermione stopped herself, but the words hung in the air.

Feared that he had gone off to hand himself over to Voldemort.

She didn't realize that she was correct, like she usually was.

Harry tried for a smile, but it came out a grimace. "Snape's memories." He gestured towards the pensieve. "I needed to see them. They— They explain everything. I'll wait here while you guys watch them, and we can discuss a plan going forward." He said, hoping his face didn't betray him.

Hermione eyed him suspiciously and he looked at her in turn, taking in the sight of her and committing it to his mind. He wanted her face to be the last thing he thought of before he died.

He was torn out of his thoughts when Ron's voice rang out. "It explains how we could beat him?" He asked, anger lacing every word, the death of Fred still fresh on his mind.

Harry sighed. "It explains the only way we can." He told them truthfully.

Hermione still looked at him suspiciously, she was always the cleverest person he knew, and he suspected she could tell he was holding something back, but thankfully she nodded. "Come on, Ron." She said taking his hand in her own and they touched their fingers to the silver not quite a liquid and went still.

Harry looked down at their intertwined hands. There was something between them now, he had thought that maybe after the war…

He stopped himself. There would be no after the war for him. He did steel his resolve then. The memories were long, but he didn't dare to hang around. He knew the second they came back out they would attempt to stop him. To find another way. He was in no mood to argue with them, so he fastened his cloak around himself and began the long trek to the forest.

2 May 1998

Hermione was pulled from the memories, panic rising inside of her stomach and up to her throat like bile. "Harry!" She called desperately but when she looked around, he was gone. Her heart beat erratically in her chest and she felt nauseous, the beginnings of a panic attack threatening to overtake her.

"Shit, shit, shit." She heard Ron mutter next to her. "The git knew we wouldn't let him go if he stuck around."

"Come on, Ron!" She shouted desperation in her voice. "We need to beat him to the forest. We need to stop him. Oh God, Harry." She cried, already sprinting towards the spiral staircase that led out of the office.

They were running as fast as their legs would carry them and were nearly at the castles grand entrance and out onto the grounds when the cold reptilian voice rang out from seemingly everywhere and nowhere all at once. Hermione's heart froze in her chest as the Dark Lord spoke the words gleefully.

"Harry Potter is dead." He said, "He was killed as he ran away, trying to save himself while you lay down your lives for him. We bring you his body as proof that your hero is gone."

Hermione fell onto her knees. Voldemort's voice continued to speak, but she didn't hear what it said over the sound of her heart shattering within her chest. The selfless self-sacrificing idiot, why had he done it? They could have figured something out, anything other than that, but he hadn't waited to talk it through with them. He had instead listened blindly to Albus fucking Dumbledore and marched off obediently to his death without a second thought.

She wanted so badly to hug him, to hit him, to curse at him and tell him that he owed this world and these people nothing, that he deserved to live. But she could do none of those things.

She forced herself to stand on shaking legs then, continuing the rest of the way out of the castle. The light of the morning sun had begun to lighten the sky, painting the grounds in beautiful hues of orange and pink.

It felt wrong.

How dare the sun rise like nothing had changed? How dare the world continue on as if everything were normal?

She made her way to where the other students had gathered. She stood next to Professor McGonagall as they all looked towards the forest, awaiting Voldemort and his death eaters. They arrived minutes later, Hermione squinted her eyes attempting to make out the shapes as they approached when Professor McGonagall shouted out in despair.

"NO!"

The sound her favorite professor made broke her heart. Never had she thought the strong fearless woman was capable of that noise, but as she followed her eyes and saw what had brought it on, she made a similar sound.

Hagrid was walking forward bound in ropes and chains. In his arms he cradled the pale, frail, and lifeless body of Harry Potter. As they got closer Hermione could see him more clearly. She saw that there was no rise or fall of his chest, no flutter of his eyes. She looked up to his scar then and saw that the raised, angry, jagged, red line that she had known all her life was pale and faded and she knew that Dumbledore's plan had worked, that the horcrux was no more.

She couldn't find it in her to celebrate that fact. She could barely find it in her to care.

Voldemort was speaking, but she didn't hear what he said. Her eyes remained locked on Harry, willing him to wake up, but no matter how hard she wished, he didn't. She tore her gaze from him only when Voldemort had placed the sorting hat atop Neville's head and set it ablaze. She watched as he pulled it off his head and pulled out the sword of Gryffindor slicing the last horcrux in two and watching as it unleased a blast of dark magic and tar.

The last horcrux being destroyed snapped her back to the present. Harry's death would not be in vain. Voldemort was mortal once more, they needed to end it once and for all. The battle picked back up in earnest then. Casualties for both sides piling high, but eventually there was just Voldemort and a handful of death eaters remaining.

Molly killed Bellatrix as the battle neared its climax and Voldemort screamed in fury. He was dueling against five different people all at once as she fought against him in tandem with Ron, Neville, and Professors McGonagall and Flitwick. Despite their advantage in numbers Voldemort was still stronger than them all, especially with the Elder Wand in hand.

Just as it looked like he would overpower them, his eyes widened in surprise and his chest exploded in a spray of bone and blood and tissue. Before he could discern what had struck him, he fell to the ground, dead.

Hermione looked behind where the spell had come from, but no one was there. Some desperate hopeful part of her wanted to believe that it was Harry, that he had somehow survived and killed him, but she knew it was wishful thinking.

The rest of those gathered in the Great Hall cheered, but Hermione couldn't bring herself to join them. Instead, she threw herself into Ron's side and clung to him as she wept.

She finally composed herself a few minutes later and made her way back to the grounds, intent on seeing Harry, but when she arrived where Hagrid had placed him gingerly, his body was gone. She screamed then, yelling at anyone and everyone, asking where they had taken him, where he was, but no one knew the answer.

And so, Harry Potter was dead, and Hermione Granger wasn't even given the chance to mourn him.

2 May 1998

Harry awoke from his vison with Dumbledore. He found it hard to believe, but it seemed as though he had somehow survived yet another killing curse. He looked around him and saw that he was no longer in the clearing in the forest, but rather on the Hogwarts grounds near the entrance to the Great Hall.

He heard commotion from the castle and stood wrapping himself in his fathers cloak. He made his way over to the sound of fighting, stepping over the lifeless forms of death eaters and classmates alike. Unlike him, there would be no return to the land of the living for them.

When he neared the castle he saw Nagini, split in two surrounded by a puddle of dark ink and realized that they had done it, that Voldemort was mortal once more.

He entered the castle at the main entrance where the large wooden doors had been blown off of their hinges and walked into the Great Hall. He saw Molly kill Bellatrix Lestrange as Voldemort dueled five people at once. He could only stare entranced at the power and precision with which the dark wizard cast magic.

Voldemort screamed then, his wand a blur and his eyes glinting red as they focused on Hermione. Harry couldn't let him hurt her. He raised his wand and aimed the dark piercing hex he had learned where the monsters heart should have been and fired.

Voldemort didn't even turn, he never saw it coming.

Harry heard a satisfying crunch as his spell tore through skin, bone, and all the tissue underneath and the Dark Lord stilled and fell, as dead as the cold floor he landed on. Harry looked to Hermione then, wanting nothing more than to hold her, but she looked around a moment trying to discern where the spell had come from before latching onto Ron.

Harry knew that they were together. It shouldn't sting like it did, but he couldn't help the feelings that arose within him. He thought back to what he had been thinking in the headmasters office after he had witnessed Snape's memories, about leaving this world and living amongst the muggles.

He had fulfilled his duty. The Dark Lord was dead.

He looked at Ron stroking Hermione's back softly as she clung to him.

This world held nothing for him anymore and they all likely presumed him dead anyway. He turned on his heel, making his way out of the castle, his first true home, for what would be the last time.

At the edge of the wards, he apparated to outside of Gringotts where he was immediately apprehended by the goblins. They requested answers and compensation for what he had done earlier. He gave them both.

Upon learning of the object Harry had broken in to procure, and of the fact that Voldemort was now dead, they let him off the hook grudgingly. When they told him the price he must repay for the damages caused, he asked only if he could cover Hermione's and Ron's share as well.

When everything was settled hardly a dent had been made in his vault. He took an expanded bag and stuffed gold in it until it reached the top, then made his way back up to the counter asking to exchange it all into muggle bank notes which went back into the bag.

The next step was a muggle bank where after a quick 'confundus' they were all too pleased to help him set up an account under the name James Henry and get him a debit card, and then he was on his way to the airport. He didn't know where he was going, so he walked up to the counter where a kind woman asked if she could help him.

"Where's your next plane headed to?" He asked quietly. She looked at the screen in front of her, tapping and typing.

"Majorca in 30 minutes." Was her response.

"Any tickets left?"

She smiled. "We have one available, yes." She told him.

Harry nodded. Spain was meant to be nice this time of year. "I'll take it."

9-11 May 1998

Hermione sat in a stiff wooden chair, garbed from head to toe in black. The mid-morning sun peaked out from behind a smattering of grey clouds, and the weather was cool for mid-May.

Harry's body had never been found, likely vanished or moved by a death eater or some fanatic supporter during the heat of the battle, yet the ministry had insisted on a funeral. So, there Hermione sat at the front of the hundreds gathered to pay their respects on the Hogwarts grounds. His memorial — she would not call it a resting place — would sit next to Dumbledore's, and Hermione loathed that fact.

She hated that Harry's grave would sit innocuously next to the man who had planned his death. The man that had orchestrated her best friends sacrificial suicide. She sat stiff and still, not listening as others spoke of her best friend, as politicians tried to garner favor with the crowd by pretending they had always supported him. Less than a handful of the people here had ever truly cared for him.

At one point Hermione had risen up from her chair and spoken about her best friend, but truth be told she wasn't sure what she said. She doubted it made much sense and knew that the crowd likely wouldn't have understood her even if her words had come out clearly as opposed to through the stifling sobs and tears that had plagued her speech.

After the funeral Ron had tried to comfort her, had placed his arms around her gently and spoke soothing words into her ear, but she had pulled away. He had been attempting to be more physical lately, and before the final battle she had wanted nothing more than for him to progress their relationship in this way. Now, however, the thought made her nauseous.

Later at the Burrow when he once again put his arm around her and pulled her close, she stood abruptly, suddenly feeling very crowded.

"I need to go get my parents." She said slightly panicked.

Ron looked at her in surprise. "Now?" He asked. "Surely another few days or a week—"

"I lost Harry." She cut in, and the tears that had fallen so freely over the last week pooled in her eyes once more and ran wet tracks down her cheeks and onto her chin. "I need to know the rest of my family is okay."

Ron frowned but nodded. "I understand. Do you want me to come with you?"

She shook her head, more tears spilling out of her eyes. "I don't know how they'll react, I— I need to do this by myself."

Ron nodded again. "I'll be here waiting for you."

She tried for a smile, but instead a sob came out. Before Ron could react, she rushed out of the burrow, not knowing where she was going. In that moment all she knew was that she missed Harry.

Two days of travel later found her at her parents' dental practice. She locked the building with her wand, placing a notice me not spell on the front doors and then undid her memory charms. When her mother and father came to once more, they were irate, furious even, but their yells quieted at the sight of their daughter, and their anger quelled within them at her tears. Within minutes, despite their initial reaction, they reached out to comfort her, their only daughter, their pride and joy.

"What's wrong?" Her father asked, and Hermione sobbed and told them everything. Told them all that she had hid from them. Her parents listened horrified as they heard twisted and morbid tales of trolls, and a basilisk. Of dementors and dying classmates. They drew in staggered breaths when they learned the true cause of the scar on her chest, not a shattered mirror, but a curse by a dark wizard that had nearly split her in two.

When they had thought it couldn't get worse, she began to tell them of the twisted, dark adventure she had found herself in this last year.

It was then that she had explained Harry's life to them, the suspected abuse he was suffering at home. The clothes that were too big and bleached grey, the malnourishment he returned with to Hogwarts every year. Her parents gasped and Hermione laughed mirthlessly indicating that she hadn't even begun to discuss the true trials he had gone through.

She explained his role in her life and how he had saved her on countless occasions. She told them of all that he had endured at that God forsaken school. Finally, she told them of the final battle. Of her headmaster and longtime idol who planned to have her best friend walk to his death, and her heart broke anew when she told them that Harry had listened.

Her parents wept with her. Wept for their daughter's lost childhood and the pain she had endured, but mostly they wept for Harry. Dan and Emma Granger had different names than when they had awoken this morning and were in a different country, but none of that seemed important as Hermione clung to them and cried.

27 September 1998

Majorca had been beautiful, as had Marbella and Porto. Harry was now making his way to Malta with nothing but his expanded bag, and his seemingly limitless debit card. He traveled only by muggle means, avoiding magical areas and people's completely. He didn't miss them.

Well, that was a lie. He missed Hermione, and Ron, and the twins and a few others, but he didn't miss the magical world. He was happy to be James Henry, to be no one of importance. He was having the time of his life sightseeing, eating different foods, and trying his best to learn new languages.

He had done things he never could have dreamed of and seen wonders he hadn't known existed. On one hot day he had even visited more beaches in a few hours than he had the rest of his life combined.

Still, he wished he could have someone to share it with. His mind wandered back to Hermione for a moment before the image of her with Ron flashed back into his mind. He sighed. He hoped they were happy, he really did. If anyone deserved happiness in this world it was Hermione.

8 April 2001

Hermione was happy as she watched Ron walk up the aisle, the string instruments playing a classical wedding march as he made his way slowly to the altar, grinning all the while.

He turned and looked at her shooting her a smile but then glanced behind her as the music changed and his bride Parvati Patil walked towards him. Her and Ron's relationship had been rocky for a little while, but they were back on good terms again now and she was glad. As horrible as dating had been, he was a good friend.

Dating was likely too strong a word for what they did. After she had returned from Australia a few weeks later with her parents in tow, Ron had continued his advances. Hermione wanted to take part in the budding relationship between them, she really did, but deep down she knew she couldn't. And she had continued to rebuff him. She really had thought that she liked him romantically, after all she had spent what seemed like two years pining after him, but now that they were free to pursue the relationship, there was nothing she wanted less in the world.

Ron had not taken the rejection well and it had escalated into a yelling match where he had declared that it was Harry's fault — That she always chose Harry. After all she picked him first in school, and stayed with him in the tent, and now even in death Ron came second to him.

Hermione was furious at the words. So upset she couldn't even comprehend their accuracy. She jinxed him 5 times over before he realized what was happening, and George and Ginny, who had heard him as well, cast a few of their own for good measure. They had apologized to her, saying that Ron wasn't the best at expressing disappointment, but they hadn't stopped her from storming out of the burrow.

Hermione had slowly stopped spending time with the Weasley's after that. Instead, she poured all she had into her NEWT's, and then her work at the Ministry. Whatever energy she had left she devoted to her parents whom she had neglected for far too long.

And even with all her energy spent, and time accounted for she still found herself thinking of her best friend who was gone. In fact, it was like Harry never left her mind, even all these years later.

Hermione snapped out of her thoughts as the sound of cheering started and realized the wedding was over and that Ron had bent Parvati low and kissed her. She cheered along with the others. Yes, Hermione was happy for her friend, but she resented the fact that Harry wasn't here to see Ron get married. And in this moment, just like in every other waking moment since he had died, Hermione missed him.

14 March 2002

Harry looked across the small table at the pretty woman he was having dinner with. A bowl of pasta sat in front of him half-eaten and a bottle of wine was empty in the middle of the table, as were their glasses.

Harry watched and fiddled idly with his new beard as she tucked a strand of her thick windswept brown hair behind her ear and gestured with her hands while she spoke in a thick Greek accent about a story Harry was only vaguely paying attention to.

He reached for the ash tray in the middle of the table, taking a drag from his cigarette and smiling as she got to the funny part of her tale. When she finished, he responded appropriately and gestured towards the waiter for another bottle of wine, and she smiled her pretty smile at him.

"Another bottle?" She asked and Harry chuckled, looking embarrassed for a moment before glancing back at her.

"I don't want this dinner to end." He lied simply, and she beamed at him as the waiter came back with a fresh bottle, taking the cork off and pouring them both a glass.

The truth was Harry was a man, and quite a handsome one at that he had discovered. He knew where this evening was going, and he wasn't opposed — after all he had desires just like any other man — but unless he was drunk, he found it difficult to indulge those desires. At least that's what he told himself.

It was true enough, but Harry also knew that the alcohol would blur his vision and dull his senses as well. He knew that the reason he had struck up a conversation at the beach with this particular woman had a lot to do with her tanned skin, and thick brown hair, and the pretty smile she wore. And Harry also understood that part of the reason he drank now was because the more alcohol that was in his system the more she looked like—

"I think I'm ready to go back to your room now." She said to him from across the table, her face flushed from the alcohol and her words.

Harry smiled and stood, taking her by the hand. He let his earlier thoughts drift away. He would feel guilty in the morning, but right now, the alcohol did its job.

3 July 2003

Hermione sat across from Ernie McMillan at the restaurant he had asked her to last week. They had been working together at the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures for the last two years, and Hermione knew that he liked her, had even had an inkling of it as far back as their shared time at Hogwarts.

About a month ago he had finally built up enough courage to ask her out. They had gone out on three dates, and she had had a good time with him, but in the back of her mind something continued to hold her back. Or rather someone, but that person didn't exist, at least not anymore.

This was now their fourth date, and she had heard all week from Luna and Ginny what the fourth date meant. She had pretended to be excited, tried to make herself believe that she was falling for the handsome blonde Hufflepuff in front of her, but the more she sat here the more she knew she wasn't.

She took a large swallow of the drink in front of her. 'It's been five years, Hermione.' She scolded herself. 'What are you supposed to do, sit around waiting for your dead best friend to suddenly come back to life?' Hermione frowned into her salad.

"You okay?" Ernie asked, concern in his voice. "If the salad is no good, I can have them take it back." He said, already raising his hand to flag down a waiter.

Hermione waved him off quickly. "No, no. It's great, really. I was just caught up in my own little world."

Ernie smiled at her. "Hermione Granger." He responded fondly. "When are you ever not thinking about a hundred things at once."

Hermione smiled back, and took another swallow of her drink, allowing the alcohol to work. When her glass was empty, she ordered another and then another.

When the evening concluded and he asked her if she would like to go back to his flat, she told him yes, and he led her by the hand towards the floo's.

16 December 2004

Harry sat in bed, buried beneath three blankets and a comforter as he attempted to stave off the winter chill from the ski lodge he was at in Switzerland. His eyes were closed, and he was drifting in that space between sleep and consciousness.

Harry no longer thought of the Wizarding World or his old friends with any frequency. He was still caught up on enjoying life. He had seen the alps from their peaks and scuba dived at the Great Barrier Reef. He had learned to surf and now was taking up skiing.

He had made friends with muggles who he met backpacking and sent and received post cards to them, writing letters when he had the time and sending them by post instead of owl.

He met women, had even dated one for a few months before his travelling lifestyle had conflicted with her own and they parted ways. No, harry was too busy to think back on the past that he could hardly believe he had at one point lived.

But in these moments between wake and slumber. In the strange in-between where his mind thought of nothing and everything all at once, she still appeared to him. She would be laughing at him, as if she had told him a joke only the two of them were in on, and look at him with her eyes, those beautiful brown eyes.

In his minds eye she appeared older than 18, he could tell by her face, but some of her features he had lost to time. He knew the basics but could no longer picture the lines on her face when she smiled, or the way her lips curled at the corners when she laughed, and his heart would break because of it. All he had now were memories of memories.

Then sleep would claim him. On the lucky nights, or the unlucky ones he supposed, he would dream of her and wake still thinking of her. Other times he wouldn't, and she would be forgotten when the sun rose. But regardless, a few weeks later like clockwork she would find him again in the same position as his eyes closed and his mind drifted.

6 October 2005

"I-think-we-should-move-in-together." He had said it quickly, like he was forcing the words out.

Hermione looked at him shocked. She didn't know why she was shocked; they had been dating for over two years now. Their relationship was progressing, and she liked him. It would make sense not to pay for two flats. She studied his nervous face contemplating her answer.

"No." She told him simply, and watched as a number of emotions colored his face. Sadness, hurt, confusion, bitterness.

"Why not?" He shot back defensively. "We've been dating for two years, we're happy together. It makes sense for us to save, why should we pay for two separate flats?" He told her, sending back the exact argument she had considered.

"I'm just not ready." She told him honestly, but unapologetically.

"I don't understand you 'Mione." He told her, his voice exasperated. "Some days I feel like we're the happiest couple on the planet and others you're so sad and so caught up on things you won't tell me about that I worry you'll leave me and never look back.

"It feels like I've done everything I can. Hell, I've practically given you my heart, but you refuse to take it, and it feels like you just keep holding back and holding back." He studied her and Hermione looked at him.

A sense of understanding seemed to cross over him. "Hermione, will you ever be ready? To move in, to get married? Do you want those things with me?"

Hermione looked at him sadly. "I— I'm not sure." She replied honestly.

He nodded. "That's alright, then." A beat "I think it might be best if we took a break, at least for a little while."

Hermione didn't say anything but instead followed him with her eyes as he gathered his things and stepped through her floo. After he was gone, she let herself cry, but her tears weren't for Ernie McMillan.

24 July 2006

It was early morning, and Harry swiped his card in Rome, tapping his foot idly at the hotel front desk, and waiting impatiently for a key to be handed to him.

The apologetic voice of the worker rang out in a thick Italian accent. "I am so sorry Mr. Potter; it seems your card was declined."

Harry looked at her dumbly. So, it seemed that bottomless bag of galleons he had converted to cash wasn't as bottomless as he had thought. He had cash on his person and could pay for the hotel that way but decided against it. Now would be as good a time as any to head back to England and secure the rest of his funds from Gringotts.

He made his way back to the airport he had just come from and bought a ticket, flinching when he saw London written on his ticket. He napped on the flight and debarked a few hours later, his bag on his back. He looked up and saw that the sky was overcast and the weather cool, even by England's standards for this time of year.

He walked the streets of North London aimlessly, knowing that Gringotts was closed, and instead made his way into a bar. He could kill a few hours before he found an inn for the evening.

24 July 2006

Hermione apparated into her parents back garden and let herself into the house. They had started a ritual for weekly dinners since their return from Australia and aside from the few rare instances had been consistent.

She entered and could smell a pie baking in the oven — beef she hoped — and saw her mum and dad seated on the couch, wine glasses in hand.

"Hi sweetie." Her father said standing to hug her. "How was work today?"

Hermione sighed and began to get into the latest policies regarding centaurs and divinators that she had been working on. A few minutes later the pie was ready, and they sat together enjoying the food and the company.

Hermione had already had two glasses of wine when her father had brought up Anthony. "A nice lad, 28 and already opened up his own dental practice." He had said.

"Tall and handsome too, love." Her mother continued. "Of course he isn't magical, but once he knows you, I have no doubt that he wouldn't mind."

Hermione had tried to change the subject with a polite nod and a new train of thought, but a few minutes later the topic came back around. "We've told him about you, and he would love to meet you. We know it hasn't been quite a year since your breakup, but we think it could do you some good to see him, maybe help you get over that other lad."

Hermione smiled mirthlessly at that. Her parents were right about her needing to get over a boy, but it hadn't been Ernie. She had a third glass of wine as they continued to speak of Anthony. Finally, mostly just to get them to stop, she had agreed that they could give him the number to her mobile and promised she would pick up when he rang.

As the evening came to a close Hermione realized she had had too much to drink to apparate and her parents didn't have a floo. Her father had offered to drive her, but she waved him off. "There's a magical inn not far from here, I'll be fine to walk, a few extra steps won't kill me.

She bid them goodnight and opened her umbrella and sighing when she saw the rain pouring down. She cast warming and drying charms on herself and began the trek towards the magical inn, already pushing the thoughts of Anthony from her mind.

AN: I may leave this as a stand alone for the time being or add a second chapter, it just depends if anyone cares to actually see more lol. Thanks for reading, I'd love to hear your thoughts if you care to share them.