# Swallowed In The Sea

circinusphoenix

Rating: PG
Genres: Drama, Romance
Relationships: Harry & Hermione
Book: Harry & Hermione, Books 1 - 6
Published: 16/02/2007
Last Updated: 05/03/2007
Status: Completed

Sequal to Fix You. After Harry left, Hermione continued on, but it was not an easy time. Taking her sorrow and memories, she decides to write a novel, infusing her own life into the main character, and letting her imagination run free. Now, two years since Harry left that fateful night, and months since she's seen Ron, her book has been published, and is a best seller. She's starting to feel happy with her life; thinking this could be a new beginning. That is, until she receives a strange note that could change everything.

## 1. Tears Stream (Angst/Sequelled Ending)

A/N – This is the first ending to this story’s prequel, “Fix You”. It was originally posted with that story, but even though I strenuously expressed there would be a sequel, complaints were posted to Portkey staff, and I had to remove it and place it here as Chapter 1 of this story.

This was the original ending to that story though. I am sorry the story’s fluidity has been destroyed like this, but unfortunately some people didn’t like it. Portkey currently has no rules for alternative endings.

Any lyrics embedded from the song “Fix You” by Coldplay within the story are not mine, and are from the song.

Chapter 3
Tears Stream
Angst/Sequelled Ending

The rain was once again battering against Harry, as he leapt down the steps and across the still empty street. He was running as fast as his legs could take him, his feet soaked from imprinting in the massive puddles of water that were strune about the ground, the water falling from the sky feeding their volume. Harry paid no attention to these tiny urban ponds, his attention fixed solely on running, and continued as fast as he could.
Tears were streaming down his face, worst than he could possibly remember. Even as a child, he never cried the way he was now. They weren’t tears of sorrow, like those he shed at Dumbledore’s funeral. They weren’t tears of pain, as those from scraping his knee when falling off his old bike when he was young. These tears were entirely different from ones that flowed from his eyes before.
These tears were ones of total, utter loss, and hopelessness. For years he had one thing holding him together, one thing keeping the great Harry Potter from falling completely apart: his hope. Hope that things would work out on some level; that his life would not be as it was through his entire childhood, and even during his time at Hogwarts. His early years with the Dursley’s were the hardest in Harry’s life, trying to survive and find meaning in a loveless family that considered him a better doorstop than human being. He was sure he was destined for a horrible life - until the day a letter arrived for him, and changed everything.
When he learned of the wizarding world, and started at Hogwarts, he thought his hopes and dreams had been answered. A purpose, and a meaning were found to Harry in this world, and he joyously left the other behind.
This new world however, did not turn out the way Harry wanted it to, regardless of how hard he tried, hoped, wished, or prayed. Yes, he prayed, many times, to himself and the spirits of the world that controlled the future, for things to actually start working out right. And as much as he hoped they would answer his prayers, they never did.
He was a pariah to his classmates, and every year he was faced with problems and tests, and not just the normal school kinds. He battled through these trials, hope still guiding him forward, but in the last few years he found hope failing. Fate seemed bent on delivering him the worst of reality, just when he wasn’t expecting it, making it all the worst. Finding out Sirius was innocent, and that he and Harry could start moving closer, only to have him taken away less than two years later. Dumbledore being murdered, right in front of Harry, right before having to start on one of Harry’s worst struggles in life; finding and destroying the Horcruxes and Voldemort.
Even in those, the darkest times in Harry’s life, there was one thing that kept him going, kept his hopes strong, even when they showed their weakest. It was his friends.
When Harry fell, be it literally or otherwise, they were always there to pick him up and encourage him to fight, against his foes and whatever reality would throw at him next. Ron and Hermione, they both kept Harry going. They probably never knew just how important they were to Harry, only himself knowing how easily he would have given up all hope had it not been for them.
But in these last years, Harry’s trust and faith in his friends began to wane. After the fall of Voldemort, he believed everything was behind him. He thought his hard life would be over, and things would finally start working out right for him. But with his friends moving on, and Harry realizing his true love, he was yet again denied this simple wish.
After all he had gone through, after all the trials and tribulations, he was still not worthy of having one thing go right. In fact, in the process of being denied another wish, he was loosing his last hope that he clutched to so dearly. He was loosing his hope to be with Hermione.
He clinged to this hope for years, a lone life preserver in the middle of an ocean of nothingness. This misty London night, he put this last, exceedingly dying hope out in the open, laying not only it on the line, but himself as well. It was his last attempt, his last struggle he would try to fight through. After this, his hope would be lost forever, and there would be nothing.
It was something that could not be replaced, Harry knew this. Many would try to explain to Harry that there was more to live for, and that things would turn out to be better. Harry knew however, that there was only one thing that could make things better, and that was flatly denied to him by his best friend, simply by the look that crossed her face tonight.
Harry was still running, now crossing the open park that stood on the other side of the street from Ron and Hermione’s flat. He didn’t know where he was running to, just as far away from both Hermione and everyone as possible.
As he continued on, his waterlogged clothes weighing down him as he body continued to move, his vision obscured by the tears and rain. He entered the children’s area, the swings hanging dormant as rain made their surfaces unkempt and displeasing to sit on, and continued on. The teeter totters sat motionless at their obtuse angles, water running down the length of them. Harry exited the children’s area as fast as he entered, and found himself in an open area of the park, trees standing at the edges of the darkness, the damp ground below him allowing his feet to sink and depress into the grass and mud.
There was no hope left for Harry. He had nothing. Even with his running, he found no purpose to it, and soon found himself slowing down, and staring at his feet, panting from exhaustion.
It was very dark in this area of the park, away from the path lights. The clouds nestled across the sky created a blanket, wrapping Harry’s entire world in depression, sadness, and a dull copper glow from the city lights. He lowered himself to lean slowly, however lacking both energy and concern, timbered over on his side, right onto the watery ground. He struck the ground with a dull thud, and water reverberated around him, absorbing most of the impact.
He was cold, alone, and had no purpose. It was the lowest point in his life, and the worst of it was, he knew it too. He laughed harshly at those who could see him now, the great Boy Who Lived, laying in this London park, rain beating him as he lay on the lake that was the ground.
Harry couldn’t stop Hermione’s face entering his mind, the expression just the same as the one she gave only minutes ago. A wave of sadness and depression washed over him as his mind focused on his Hermione, his emotions taking over as he began to sob and shudder on the muddy ground.
When he looked up from expelling his closely held secret to Hermione, he was worried if her reaction would be angry, or concerned. Of course he dreamed that she would embrace him and reciprocate his love, but the one that crossed her face was, with out a doubt in Harry’s mind, the worst expression he could receive.
She was sad. He could see it in her eyes, and the way her eye brows moved ever-so slightly together, as if pained by the words he said. She wasn’t sad for herself, she was sad for Harry.
The look did more than just make Harry feel terrible, it abruptly crushed Harry’s hope, right there in the doorway. He could feel his hope, that lone life preserver, sinking beneath the surface and leaving Harry forever.
Within those brief moments before he ended up outside, his chest hollowed beyond words, feeling like his heart had been entirely removed. His knees buckled, and for a moment he though he was going to fall over, however he managed somehow to stay standing. His head instantly began yelling at Harry for doing what he did, making him feel even worst.
Harry could do nothing but run. He didn’t want to hear any explanation Hermione would give, knowing it would just hurt him more, if it were possible. He didn’t even bother with his coat, and simply opened the door, not realizing that Hermione had locked it, yet it opened when he pulled, and ran as fast as possible, the hallway and stairwell an entire blur from his speed, his mind, and his tears.
Harry rolled over on the soggy grass, his back hurting from the sideways position he fell over in, and he sat up, hugging his knees in front of him.
Harry felt completely and utterly alone. The rain’s constant hymn continued to play around him, its chorus washing away any and all his prosperity as he sat on the sodden lawn. He could not stop his head from falling into his arms, his entire emotional world crashing down, as the truth the rain brought began seeping into his already dejected mind.
There, in the grey falling showers that spread across all of London, Harry sat in the middle of this Muggle park, and wept profusely. His head was buried against his own arms and legs, rainwater pouring down his head, neck, and back. His shoulders shuddered like never before as he let out everything, knowing that no matter how hard he wanted someone to, no one would come to try and comfort him.
Harry knew, deep down as the pessimism grew on him, that no one would come. He would have only himself to try and take control of things. He didn’t know how he would move on from this though. He had nothing left, and now his friendships to both Ron and Hermione were lost, because of what he did this night, which he kept reminding himself how stupid he was to do it, making himself feel worst.
There was only one real solution Harry thought of, while he and the sky continued to shed tears, and that was to go away. To escape everything, and go somewhere were his problems and mangled life would not follow him. He thought of it for a while, to go somewhere and start over, hoping that the prospects to a new beginning would help him get over his problems. He knew it was running away from things, but in his life, Harry never had a chance to run away; he always had to stand up and fight his problems through. Harry felt he should deserve to run away.
He held his head in his palms, as he tried rocking himself back and forth to calm himself. Harry had, many times lately, broken down with no one to help him. He was becoming good and calming himself down, if only for a while, and learning to bury his disheartening thoughts.
Harry now realized going away was the only way of solving his problems. Everything, in every aspect, was in shambles; from his relationship to Ginny, to his boredom and constant ridicule with Auror Training, and now tonight, with Hermione. He had to get away, and he needed to leave now.
Harry stopped rocking, the motion causing a small puddle to form around him, as his weight depressed the soft and moist ground he sat on. He stared forward, watching the parallel streaks of rain fall from the vertical, and made sure it was what he wanted to do, still sniffling as his mind tried to gain control. He could always return if he missed people, and he would leave notes for people incase they got worried, although he wondered even there if people would really worry, aside from Ginny.
Harry thought it through, and nodded to himself. ‘You have no other choice’ he told himself shakily, while still sitting on the drenched grass. Harry, very slowly, turned, and planted his hand in the muddy ground, and pushed himself up, rain tumbling off him like water from a wet sponge. He stood to his full height, and took in a long, deep breath of the misty air, still sniffling as his loss continued its torment on him.
He would start over. He could still keep contact with people that he cared about, but right now, he couldn’t see them. He needed time apart from all of it. He knew once he entered Auror training that he should have taken a few years to relax. He kept himself busy though, too busy, and in the wrong way. Harry promised himself now, as he stood erect, that he would learn from his mistakes, and not return until he was at peace with himself, and could be sure things would start working out.
Harry opened his eyes, and turned his head. He could hear, aside from the pitter patters of rain colliding with leaves of the nearby trees, a squishing sound that he knew was someone walking nearby. Harry turned around, and felt again, a pang rip through his chest, mixed with a desire to just Apparate away before she could reach him.
Hermione was running through the rain, her hair matted and wet, swinging from side to side and she moved. She had put a light brown coat on, but was wearing house slippers as she trudged between the swings and other items in the park, making her way to Harry. Harry allowed his shoulders to hunch, and he began to walk in a different direction, hoping she’d get the idea to leave him alone. She however quickened her pace.
‘Harry! Don’t leave, please!’ she shouted desperately as she came closer. Harry stopped, and once more, his head hung low against his chest. He knew, again the vision of her face in the flat, that anything she would say could never make him feel better. Any explanation or advice would just make things worst. He didn’t want to hear it anymore.
‘Harry, oh Harry, please don’t go. Let’s talk about this, please’ she begged, as she came up, and moved close to Harry, grabbing hold of his arm with her hands. Harry continued to gaze at the ground in front of him, and after a few moments of only the rain answering Hermione, she moved so she was in line with Harry.
‘Harry, please’ she said again, trying to look up into Harry’s eyes. Harry saw her getting close, and closed them before she could, taking a step back.
He knew what he had to do. It was getting to become too much, and allowing himself to hear more of Hermione’s explanation just about how the one thing he wanted, more than anything in the world, could never come to pass, would just make Harry’s utter depression complete. He needed to take whatever bit of himself he had left away, to rebuilt and start over now.
It pained him to do it, there was a hopeful part still left in him, telling him to stay with Hermione, telling him to listen to her and allow her to be his best friend, and help him. If he could just stay there with her . . .
Harry took another step back, Hermione’s hands now falling down Harry’s arm to his hand, and he shook his head firmly. That hope was gone, there was nothing left for him. He should get away, now. He would have had it not been for that part of his mind keeping him there. It was that part that caused all his problems.
Harry opened his eyes, and slowly looked up to Hermione. Her hair was drenched, its curls intensified by the water, and coloured black by the night. He could see her expression slightly in the dim light, but he could tell she was being cautious, waiting for Harry to say something.
‘You never knew . . . how important you were, did you?’ Harry quaked, as he took another step backwards, Hermione’s hands clinging for a last moment before falling away back to her side. In the one step Harry took, she took two closer. She was still within reaching distance, but kept to herself.
‘I –‘ Hermione started, but Harry cut her off.
‘All this time, since I met you, it was you that kept me going. I fought through hell and whatever the world could throw at me for you. You were my hope, and my savour, until tonight’ he continued, tears once more welling up in his already tired eyes. He could hear Hermione sniffle as she too was crying, and he felt glad she was.
‘I’m leaving Hermione’ he said, turning away and beginning to walk a little distance. Hermione began to sob more, and ran to stand in front of Harry. She got there, but was met with no eye contact. Harry looked away, not wanting to see the hurt she was in. She wasn’t going to make him feel any worst.
‘No Harry, don’t go! Please!’ she pleaded once more, collapsing onto Harry’s chest. Harry closed his eyes, and sighed as she cried. Too long he waited to get away from it all, and he wasn’t going to let anything, or anyone get in his way. He learned enough from his mistakes, and was not about to make another. He took Hermione’s shoulders, and pried her away from him. She cried more as Harry let go, and took two steps back. She looked up once more, seeing the hurt and pain in Harry’s eyes, as he took one last breath of the damp air, and Apparated away.
Hermione immediately collapsed onto the muddy ground, and began crying uncontrollably. Harry hadn’t even allowed her to explain, or say anything to his admission of love. She wanted to say so many things at once, but nothing came out. Before she could get her thoughts together, Harry had already left, and was bounding across the lawn.
She had no idea that he kept something like that in. She knew he didn’t exactly like that she and Ron were going to get married soon, but he always seemed happy with Ginny. Now that she heard him tonight, she could see that it wasn’t true, and that he was always miserable. The thing that he didn’t know however was that she wasn’t happy either.
When she and Ron started dating after the war, she thought to give it a try. Ron always wanted to go out, but never asked until then. She didn’t think it would last for so long, or lead to marriage; at least she never planned for it too.
When Harry returned from defeating Voldemort, she was so overwhelmed with joy at seeing Harry alive. She wanted to hug him, and never let go. It was in that moment, seeing him enter the Burrow, cuts and blood strewn about on his face and body, that she realized she loved Harry, like no other person.
Harry went together with Ginny though, and she thought trying with Ron wouldn’t hurt. As time went on, Hermione lost any hope that Harry would break up with Ginny. They seemed to be doing well, and Hermione found herself still with Ron. She found security with Ron, in that he would always fancy her. Ron did look at other women, but wouldn’t do anything wrong in that sense. He was a Gryffindor at heart, always loyal.
At the beginning, Hermione felt she was doing the wrong thing to Ron, misleading him in some sense. She however kept with Ron, and found herself nestling easily into their relationship. By the time Ron proposed, she knew, or at least thought then, that Harry was fully in love with Ginny, and she gladly accepted.
Now tonight happened though. She couldn’t imagine Harry dealing with all the pain he carried, to have to carry this secret for so long. She was surprised by his admission, but felt so horribly sad.
Sad in the sense that Harry kept it in for so long. She dreamed, even lately, of the night he returned to the Burrow, just coming through the door and picking her up and kissing her passionately, something like the kiss he gave to Ginny in sixth year, except more meaningful. So many times she wished Harry would have loved her like she loved him, that it would be them, not her and Ron, living together.
Now things were disorganized beyond her belief. Harry was gone, and it was her fault. She should have said something, but she was never as brave as Harry was, doing what he did tonight. All she wanted now was to tell him everything, all the years of pent up love that stirred in her soul, and embrace him like she had so many times before in her most wonderful dreams.
She knew hoping would be pointless though. Harry was crushed, and put himself into exile from everyone. She didn’t know where to look, or even if she could find him, whether he would accept her now.
Getting up from the soaked ground, Hermione slowly paced herself back to her flat. Luckily tonight Ron was not home, and in fact on assignment in Romania for work. She continued to shed tears as she walked back across the empty street, and up to her flat.
She could only think of one thing to do to get a hold of Harry, in any manner, and tell him. She knew it was a long shot, but needed to try. She moved over to her and Ron’s owl Capella that sat in her cage in their spare room. She sat down at the desk, trembling from the rain, and slowly took a quill and piece of parchment out.
She wondered if Harry would read it, or just throw it in a fire. It didn’t matter though, she needed to try. She felt like she created this whole mess, and needed to fix it, especially for Harry. He had gone through so much, he didn’t deserve this, not if he didn’t know.
She could fix it. She could fix him.
Not even thinking of what could happen to her and Ron, she took the quill, and took a lapsed breath before writing, trying to steady her mind, and hand. Now she knew what Harry felt like tonight in the rain, soaking and on the edge of finally telling the truth. She leaned in, and wrote the words, which minutes later were in the grasp of her owl, carrying them to Harry, wherever he may be.
She stayed in that room the rest of the night, staring out at the perpetual rain, feeling like no matter what happened, her world would never again see the sunshine, and would be forever draped in sadness. She lost hope after time passed, and with Ron’s return, she once again buried her sadness, still clinging to the prospect that someday, Harry Potter would return to her life.
Harry never wrote back.
A/N –Please review, and let me know what you thought of the scene, and the descriptions and emotions.

Now some might ask why I wrote two endings to this story, and there are two reasons: a) because some people (like me) like nice endings, and b) because songs have different interpretations. Sometimes it can mean hope, and sometimes it can mean hopelessness. So, in that respect, I wrote two endings.

## 2. If I Could Write it Down

A/N – I got fidgety, and posted the chapter ahead of the post date. :)

This story is a sequal to my first short-story, "Fix You". I would suggest reading it first to understand this. This story will be the sequal to the angst ending.
With this story, I am using my second favourite Coldplay song, titled "Swallowed In The Sea". I hope you all enjoy, and please review. This is my first sequal, and my first fic written without Harry as the main character, so any opinions are more than welcome.
Any lyrics embedded within the story are not mine, and are from the song.

Chapter 1
If I Could Write It Down

The ocean was something she always loved. Looking out over the water, the constant rolling of the ever-approaching tide, the whistle of the wind from distant lands, and the cry of the sea birds remaindered her of her childhood, and the days she spent frolicking along the endless beaches; forgetting the outside world and the loosing herself in the sunshine and ocean spray.
She closed her eyes, and inhaled the salty air deeply. It was here, on the top of a grass hill overlooking the ocean that she came to relax and—for a while—forget her worries and painful memories. Over the years, she tried many places to try and calm herself in times of discontent, but she found her niche here; on the grassy hills near the ocean.
As she opened her eyes again, she looked far out at the horizon, towards the endless expanse of ocean and sky. The sun was fading as she sat on the grass—casting the islands of wispy clouds that sat in the sky vibrant shades of Jupiter red. The ocean, though strong enough to make white-capped tides, smoothed as it branched out from the shore, and reflected the yellow and cyan sky in its multitude of ripples.
Most people, if they walked by and saw her sitting like this, would think that Hermione Granger was at peace with herself; content, happy, and with little to no problems. A part of her would agree with that assessment. She was well off in many aspects.
Hermione had her dream career and life: as an author. She did finish her Healer Training, and stayed for a year or so at St. Mungo’s, but found her mind too closed in that line of work. She wanted to expand, use her whit and imagination, and do something from the heart. Writing, therefore, came as a perfect idea. She loved books herself, and for years wondered if she could do it herself.
Beginning to write while training, she soon had several manuscripts of various genres by time she finished at St. Mungo’s. Daring to take a chance, and with support from her then fiancé, Ron Weasley, she submitted them to various publishers in both the magical and muggle worlds.
The response was surprising to Hermione. Several publishers offered to publish one of her first stories, called “Song of Sorrows”. It was a romance novel, with a very tragic ending. The book was published in both magical and muggle bookshops, and after a few edgy weeks, became a very popular read. Many reviewers and readers told her how wonderful they thought she portrayed the main character’s heartbreak in the end. She generally smiled at this comment. None of her readers knew that the heartbreak was really based on her own, stemming from that one night now so long ago, however always feeling like yesterday.
The night Harry left, now two years ago, continued to stay in Hermione’s mind as one of the worst of her life. So many things went wrong during that rainy night in London, she sometimes found herself crying with just the shear memory of it.
After that night, things changed for Hermione. She couldn’t keep it secret from Ron, and at first, he tried to accept what she felt, but she could tell things were starting on a negative slope. Ron tried to bury his feelings of inferiority, but he never could. They stayed together for about a year, and he encouraged her to write in the hopes she would cheer up.
When the book was published however, Ron knew the truth behind the heartache it told of. Hermione, knowing what was going to happen, admitted she still loved Harry, and always would. They separated, and Ron was deeply affected by it, however they did keep in touch. Contact slowly dwindled, and eventually was lost. Hermione hated for it to happen, but she did all she could to keep it going.
When Ron left, and her book was going into print, Hermione tried to look at it positively, thinking it could be a new start. She had friends from St. Mungo’s, as well as a few other aspiring and known authors, and she was beginning to move on, however painful an experience it might be.
She tried dating, but found it very difficult. She stopped for a while, but then found comfort with an editor for one of her author friends. They dated for a while, and Hermione was happy. But when the book came out, and she moved around the country and Europe for book signings and readings, memories of Harry and her heartbreak came to life once more as people asked about her character’s love and discord, and she fell back into her despondency.
Hermione was dwelling in the missing. No matter how many times she tried to escape it, she still, two years later, missed Harry deeply. She tried countless times to get in touch with him, but never received a response. Anytime she saw a white owl flying through the air, which seemed to happen all too often to her, her heart would flutter at the notion it could be Hedwig. Of course it never was, and her mind would fall into depression, being punished for its hopefulness.
The wind gave a light gust, and Hermione’s wavy and frizzy hair swayed. Looking out over the calm ocean and sky, she wondered where Harry went to. No one, not even the Ministry, knew where Harry was. The Daily Prophet ran articles about it for weeks, and in the end, offered one thousand Galleons for any picture or information on Harry’s whereabouts. Of course none came; Harry was smart enough to keep himself hidden.
Ginny was heartbroken as well, but Harry left a note for her explaining that it was not her. At first she did not believe it was the truth, and she probably still did, but she moved on with her life. The Weasley family in general was dreadfully worried about Harry, thinking he may have been kidnapped or worst. It thus fell upon Hermione to tell them what happened in the muggle park. It was one of the toughest things she had to tell them. Luckily for her, Ron helped the family understand, and she still corresponded with them.
As she changed her sitting position due to her leg falling asleep, she thought once more back to that fateful night. She sighed heavily as her head fell, and she looked at the swaying grass as it seemed to move with the dark blue waves of the ocean.
Harry showed how she was going wrong with things in her life. Up to that point, she was deceiving herself, and Ron. She knew she loved Harry, but continually tried to bury her feelings. Although Harry was guilty of the same thing, he did try in the end. Hermione was the one who messed up, and she could only blame herself for what happened to Harry.
She remembered her novel, and the main character’s reaction to her love’s departure. In the novel, the main character- who’s name is Conny Kisupeck-writes in her sadness, a song. The song, titled “A Hundred Miles Long”, tells of how the girl realized she made the mistake that cost her everything, and how she would give her world to see the man she loves so dearly again.
Conny ends up waiting a long time to hear anything, and feels she deserves to wait. She broke his heart, and knew the wait would be long and painful. She held out though, knowing that even though she made such a terrible mistake, they belonged together. In the end, the man returns to where her song mentions at the end; an old road that is, one hundred miles long. It was there that they spent the most romantic night of her life, far away from towns and cities, sitting on the hood of his car, watching the stars poke their way into the deep and majestic night sky.
Hermione wrote it all down, knowing full well it was her own dream. She relived that rainy night so many times in deep sleep, she sometimes woke up with a sweat, thinking it was the rainwater in the dream. Whenever she saw rain, felt rain, heard rain, even heard the word “rain”, she would remember that night. She never set foot in that muggle park again after that night, and she moved when she and Ron split, and now lived on the coast, just up the road from where she was now sitting.
A part of her honestly thought that with the book going into print, and being spread around both the muggle and wizard worlds, that Harry would understand what it truly meant. She knew Harry was smart and clever enough to see read in between the lines, and pick up some of her more deep meanings. The book had been out for months though, and although she heard from countless fans and reviewers, she never heard from the one person she wanted too.
Realizing what she wrote for her character, she began thinking that she would receive the same fate. She would have to wait, get lost in her memories and her life, only then to be found by who she was always trying to find.
It bothered Hermione if this would be the case. She already waited two years, and heard nothing. Waiting longer would only cause her to fall deeper into her sorrow. She was already low as it was, and didn’t need to go farther.
Closing her eyes again, she sighed once more, and wiped the tears from her cheeks. She could not even count how many times she daydreamed of turning around, and seeing those wonderful green eyes staring at her. To see her first true love, to hold him again, and kiss him. To kiss him again was more than a dream to Hermione; it was a fantasy she constantly thought of.
Lifting her head, she looked back at the increasingly dark sky and ocean, and tried to calm herself, inhaling slowly and relaxed. Even though she had friends now, some closer than others, she still had to find manners to relax herself and find reason to get up, and move on.
Exhaling her held breath, she gave her arms a rub, and stood herself up. She dusted off any grass, and took one more look out over the ocean, and started her way back to her house.
Walking up the road, lit by a few very spaced out streetlamps, she wondered what she would do next. She was thinking of starting another book, but was lacking the imagination to start. Her parents asked her earlier that month to come and visit, so she was thinking of doing that soon too.
Just as she came to the top of the hill the road went up, she turned to her right, and started down her little street. Her house was the only one on it, so she considered it hers. Walking slowly, in a straight line down the side of the paved road, she looked up at the purple dominated sky, and found a few stars making their existence known. She paid close attention to the brightest one, and smiled up at it.
‘Oh Sirius, if you could only see us now’ she whispered to the star. Her smile slipped away slowly as she once again felt sad and upset. She looked back to the road, her house approaching with good pace, when she noticed something on her mailbox. She focused hard on the object, and her heart gave a jolt it had not felt in years.
Sitting on her mailbox, was indeed—after a second glance—a white, snowy owl. Hermione’s mouth fell open, and she did nothing more than run as fast as she could towards the animal. It was watching her approach, and as she slowed down abruptly in front of the mail box, the owl bobbed its head, and glanced at the girl thoughtfully.
Hermione moved closer to the owl, and it very slowly, as if practiced many times before, held out its leg to the bushy haired and winded woman. Hermione’s neck shivered as she took notice that there was a note attached. She was still trying to discern if this was Hedwig, but not seeing her in such a long time, it was difficult. Hermione very carefully, trying not to startle the beautiful owl, took the letter, and looked at it.
The owl stayed sitting on the mail box, looking expectant at Hermione. Her hands—trembling from the anxiety of opening the note, and the coolness of the summer air—slowly unraveled the note, and she gasped as her eyes fell on the writing.
Again folks, please review. Thanks!
Spell / Name Meanings:
Conny Kisupeck = Conny Kisu- = L. concisus: broken, -peck = L. pectus: heart (Conny Kisupeck = broken heart)

## 3. It Took It Back From Me

Chapter 2
It Took It Back From Me

Hermione was grabbing her coat quickly, and launched down the stairs out into her lawn, the note from the owl still firmly grasped in her hand. The night sky was alive in its starlight and vast spaces of emptiness. Hermione flicked her wand, locking up and protecting her house, and with a quick turn, she Apparated away.
Once the siphoning feeling left her, her feet hit the gravel of the road, and she looked up at the magnificent castle that was Hogwarts. Although the Astronomy Tower had been destroyed with the Death Eater Invasion, it still held immense pride in its image, and still looked as prestigious as ever. Making sure she looked presentable, she approached the front gates, and waited for the man who wrote the note. It said to meet here at eight that night, and knowing who's writing it was, she was surprised to hear from him.
Keeping an eye open, and her ears tuned to her surroundings, she began hearing the footsteps of her letter's author. She turned and watched as the man walked up to the gates, and smiled at Hermione, opening them up for her. She entered, and gave the overly large man a hug.
`Hermione! It's great ter see yeh! Yeh got my message then?' Hagrid asked, returning the hug gently. Even after all these years, his right arm was still in pain, as it had been hit with numerous curses at once and causing irreparable damage. He still had his groundskeeper job at Hogwarts, but he couldn't teach anymore with the injury.
`Hi Hagrid, how are you doing?' she asked, as they started off towards his rebuilt hut. The grounds had lucky been restored, and the green grass returned. Some of the trees along the edge of the forest were still burnt, but most grew back and started looking like it used too.
`I'm alright' Bin busy wit the grounds an' all' Hagrid answered as they continued on. Hermione asked about things in general with Hagrid and Hogwarts, and only when they sat down in his hut, and he was getting tea ready, did he mention her book.
`I read yer book. Very well done!' he boasted, turning around to see Hermione blush a little.
`Thank you Hagrid. It took me years to write it.' Hagrid came over with the tea, and placed it on the large wooden table. He poured some for Hermione, then took some himself, and sat down on his chair; it creaking against the move.
Hermione took a sip, and looked around his new hut. She found it was almost identical to the last, except a very important part was missing: Fang. When Death Eaters attacked Hagrid, Fang tried to protect him, but ended up being killed. Hagrid was of course devastated with the loss of his best friend, and buried him next to Aragog behind his hut. Even though Hagrid was trying to hide his loneliness, Hermione knew better.
`Have you been keeping contact with people?' she asked, trying to remind him of his friends. She had to admit, mentioning this made her feel bad she didn't write more to Hagrid, but she had to move on too. Hagrid didn't know about her and Harry's night in the rain.
`I `ave. Professors er still at the school, an' I see some students here and there. I heard `bout you an' Ron' he said, looking sorry for Hermione.
`Oh, don't worry Hagrid. We're both doing much better' she lied. Of course Ron was doing better she imagined, since the last time she heard from him was six months ago, before he was going away for a month to New Zealand. She, on the other hand, knew she was not doing well, but Hagrid mailed her, so she wasn't about to start pouring out her heart.
`Well Ron's doin' well. He met a girl in New Zealand he told me. He's still down there, but com'n back next week. Are yeh gonna say hello to him?'
`If he'll let me' Hermione answered. She would like to see Ron, especially if he found a girlfriend. Ron would probably be in a better mood than last time they saw each other now, and would be a little easier to talk to.
`I'm sure he will. What about Harry? Have yeh talk ta him lately?' Hagrid asked, taking a sip. Harry's name, spoken by Hagrid, made Hermione's chest hollow with memories of her times at Hogwarts, and visits they made to Hagrid's hut together. She buried her memories before they could begin to resurface, causing tears, and she shook her head to say no.
`I don't know where he is' Hermione admitted after a few seconds, collecting herself, hoping Hagrid didn't notice. He looked at her for a second, a mixture of curiosity and worry in his face, but he nodded, and went back to his tea. He offered Hermione a cookie, something he said he just started trying to make, and she smiled, agreeing to be a taste-tester.
Hagrid got up from his chair, the quietness in the hut only broken by the large man's steps on the wooden floorboards, and he reached into a cupboard for a tin. `I have `er question for yeh' he mentioned, placing a few cookies on a plate. Hermione could see from here that they were rock hard, as the bottom one broke in half when the others were piled on top.
`What's the question?' Hermione asked, a bit of wonder entering her mind, to the relief of her conscious for getting away from thoughts of Harry.
`If yeh knew were Harry was' he started, coming back over, and placing the plate on the table, `would yeh see `im?' He took one of the cookies, and made a massive dent in the side of it with a bite, and chewed while Hermione thought.
Hermione was of course, shocked by the question. Did Hagrid know where Harry was? It was something she never thought of. If he did know where Harry was, why didn't he tell her earlier? And if Hagrid did know, and told her, should she go and see Harry? There were so many questions going through her brain, which were in turn making even more questions and worries, that she had to close her eyes to actually slow down the seemingly cascading reaction.
`Do you know where he is Hagrid?' she asked very slowly, looking directly at the half-giants eyes. Hagrid by this time had put his cookie down, and looked a little more serious. He nodded, and Hermione immediately became something she never intended to become while visiting: angry.
`Why didn't you tell me earlier! How long have you know? Why ask me this now; I haven't seen him in over two years!' she shouted. She was already standing up, and at this height, was at eye level with Hagrid, since he was still sitting. Hagrid looked astounded with her reaction, but immediately lowered his head in sadness. Hermione, huffing from the yelling, realized what she did, and moved around next to Hagrid, placing her hand on his good arm.
`Oh Hagrid, I'm sorry. I really am, I didn't mean to shout, it's just-`
`I know, I know. Yeh miss `im. I know why you an' Ron split' Hagrid said. Hermione was surprised by this, and seeing her surprise, Hagrid motioned her to sit again, and she did. He wiped his eyes clear first, then continued.
`When Harry left, he wrote me a letter sayin' where he was goin', and what happened wit you an' him. Said he loved you, but you loved Ron, an' he needed time away. Tol' me I couldn't tell anyone `bout where he was, not even you. I wanted too, I really did Hermione, but Harry tol' me not to. So I kept `er secret.'
`Then why are you telling me this now?' she asked. Hagrid sighed, and went to a drawer, which when he opened, was full of used parchment and envelopes. He shuffled a large amount around, and pulled out a book. He walked back over, and placed it down on the table. It was Hermione's book.
`When I read yer book, I knew it was about you an' Harry. Do yeh love `em?' Hagrid asked bluntly. Hermione breathed slowly again, and took hold of the book in her hands. She sniffed as she felt her eyes brimming again, remembering her book and the parallels to her life.
`Harry opened up my eyes that night. I knew something was wrong with me and Ron, but I didn't know what exactly. I thought Harry was in love with Ginny. When he came and told me everything, he made me realize what I couldn't see. I didn't know how to react, and he left before I could say anything' she divulged, tears slowly falling down her cheeks as she remembered the night for the second time that day.
Hagrid pat her shoulder, surprisingly light, and stood up once more. He went to the same drawer, and dug deep in the messy drawer. Hermione wiped her cheeks, and glanced over at Hagrid, who pulled out a worn piece of parchment. He glanced at it, then at Hermione, then came over, and dropped the letter on the table, facing Hermione. She looked up at Hagrid for reassurance, and he nodded towards the parchment, slowly sitting back down. Hermione took a breath, and moved the parchment closer.
Dear Hagrid,
I'm sorry to send a message so late, but I needed to send it.
I'm going away for a while. Things since my last message have become worse, and I can't deal with it any more. I left a note for Ginny, and told Hermione.
I'll be going to where you and I visited last week, and I need you to be there as soon as possible. I have something very important to tell you.
Harry
Hermione's brow lowered in confusion, and looked at Hagrid, who was still looking at her solemnly.
`This doesn't say where Harry is' Hermione stated. Hagrid put his hand out to the parchment, and took it back. He took out a very large and rather tattered quill, and wrote something on the back. He folded it once, and passed it back to Hermione on the table. Hermione, still confused, picked up the parchment, and opened it.
Harry Potter is located at Godric's Hollow
`He put a Fidelius Charm on the Hollow? And . . . wait, you're the secret keeper?' she asked, not able to keep her astonishment out of her voice. Hagrid was always terrible with secrets. How he managed to keep this secret for two years is quite a feat for him.
`He said I was the only one he could trust, or somethin' like tha'. I kept it, an' haven' told a soul until tonight' he said quietly. Hermione, just in case Hagrid forgot, took her wand, and burned the parchment, and laid the ashes on the table. He nodded, and thanked her for reminding him.
`Why did he put a secret on where he was? And why are you telling me?' she asked consecutively. Hagrid put his hand up to slow her down, and it succeeded. Although she was an adult, she was still prone to those outbursts of immaturity and rash action, especially when it dealt with Harry.
`He didn' want anyone watchin' him. Said he needed to be alone an' such. I didn' think he'd be gone fer so long, but I've bin keepin' track o' him.' He shifted in his chair slightly, and gave a long breath before continuing. `An' I'm telling yeh because I'm no fool; I know what tha' book meant, and that Harry needs a friend.'
`He wouldn't call me a friend anymore' Hermione replied quietly, looking at the ashes on the table that were still smoldering. They sat in silence, as Hermione's last words slowly sunk into her brain like water to a sponge.
`I should . . . I should go Hagrid. It was really nice to see you and all, but I have to go' she muttered, getting up from her chair. Hagrid stood up as well, and looking at Hermione for a moment, nodded in agreement.
`Alrigh' Hermione. Just take care o' yerself, and go see Harry.' Hermione gave a upsetting and somewhat fake smile to Hagrid, and a few minutes later, was back at her house on the coast, opening the door and petting an anxious Crookshanks.
Hagrid in the mean time, sighed when he re-entered his hut, and greeted Hedwig, who delivered Hermione's letter.
`I got one more letter for yeh girl' he said to the beautiful owl. He opened the messy drawer again, and pulled out the newest piece of parchment; the last letter Harry wrote, which Hedwig delivered earlier that day.
Dear Hagrid,
Being here so long has made me realize this was not a solution. I want to live in the world again, but not in the one I left. I want a new start, and new opportunities. The only way I can keep going here is to stay in the Hollow, and I'm starting to feel how Sirius was in Grimmauld, being cooped up all day.
I've decided to move. To where, I'm unsure. Someplace where they don't know all about me and Voldemort. Perhaps Australia or Canada. Wherever I go, I won't be returning, and I won't be telling anyone where I've gone to.
You've been my best friend Hagrid, and have helped me not only discover the wizarding world, but have looked out for me and stood by me so many times, I know I owe my life to you three times over. I can't do anything more than say thank you for all your help.
I'm leaving on Saturday, so if you want to send a letter back, do it quickly. If you are willing, I would like Hedwig to stay with you once I'm gone.
If I don't hear from you, thank you Hagrid, for everything.
Harry

*

`Hi there Ron' Hermione said quietly, greeting her old red-haired friend the following Friday on the garden at The Burrow. Ron turned around, and gave her a strange look, which she thought was more appropriate for when someone turns around and finds a vampire baring its teeth at you.
`Hermione! What are you doing here?' he asked, getting right to the point. Ron was, and always would be tactless in Hermione's mind.
`Hagrid told me you were coming back today, and I wanted to see you. See how you're doing and such' she answered, keeping her voice level, and hoping for some positive response. Ron continued to look puzzled at her for a moment, then finally allowed his shoulders to relax.
`I'm good' he answered. Hermione nodded, and a strange feeling silence hung between them for a moment. Ron laughed a little, and looked at Hermione, opening his arms. She smiled warmly at him, and happily gave him a hug, which he nicely returned.
`I've missed you Hermione' he admitted from Hermione's shoulder.
`I've missed you too. I heard you found a woman' she stated, stepping back and looking at his reaction. He blushed a little, which in Ron's case means a lot, and Hermione smiled.
`Yeah, well, she's inside with mum. She's great Hermione, really.' Hermione nodded, and quietness once again hung in the air. Ron sighed, and looked at the door, then up at the blue sky above The Burrow. He glanced at Hermione for a moment, who was looking around as well, and asked what he was wondering about.
`Have you . . . have you talked to Harry?' he asked, very hesitantly. Talking about their former friend, that he originally though caused their break up, was a hard thing for Ron. But after two years, he knew it was not his fault. Love chooses blindly, and he realized it was not his place to stand in its way.
The comment caused Hermione's head to droop, and her expression to turn sad. `No, I haven't. I could, but I shouldn't' she declared quietly, looking at the green grass.
`You could? You know where he is?' Ron asked. Hermione nodded, and Ron reacted much as she did with Hagrid.
`How long have you know?'
`A couple of days. It doesn't matter though Ron, he hates me, and he probably thinks I hate him too.' Ron moved forward, and lifted Hermione's chin, looking at her very seriously. Ron, in the months since she last saw him, became more rugged, and filled out a little, making him appear stronger and gave him a stern face.
`I read your book Hermione. Are you saying all that's a lie?' he asked oddly, but still looking at her seriously. She looked back down, and felt her eyes brimming.
`It . . . it isn't alright. That book shook everything up in my world. I was starting to move on, and then it came out, and took everything back from me. I just can't move on, I . . . I still love Harry' she professed, allowing herself to cry as she said those last four words. Since the night she told Ron about her loving Harry, she never mentioned it again. In her head, she laughed at the irony that once again, it was Ron who was hearing it, and not the person it was meant for.
Ron moved over slowly, and embraced Hermione once again, wrapping his arms around her tightly. Hermione clung to Ron, and sobbed into his shoulder. She remembered how Ron felt when giving hugs, and it was something—whether as a friend or more—that she always loved. It was comforting to her to feel him back in Britain, and finally getting a hug that was meaningful and from someone who truly meant it.
Hermione heard the door open to The Burrow, and Ron waved the person away. Hermione immediately backed away, and wiped her eyes, looking to see the door closing. She didn't see who opened it, but she felt bad.
`I'm sorry Ron, I should go. Your family is waiting' she said, pointing to the door. She was starting to walk away, but only got two steps when Ron took hold of her arm, turning her around to face him; the same determined expression on his face, this time mixed with some hopefulness.
`Go and see him Hermione. He loves you, and you love him. Don't wait any longer, you've been through enough.' He kept his blue eyes on Hermione, and she again looked away.
Ron was, for what must have been the first time ever, right, and she was wrong. She buried herself so deep into thinking Harry would hate her, that it would be an even more painful experience seeing him than not. If she explained herself, and was able to express her love, then Harry might forgive her for what happened two years ago. If not, then at least she would have some closure.
Hermione looked up to Ron, and felt his determination siphoning into her, as his words began imprinting on her. She looked off at the sun, which was just beginning to set, and nodded.
`Wish me luck please Ron' she asked, looking back up as the nervousness started seeping into her arms and legs, radiating into her chest. Ron gave her a hug, and simply smiled at her, then walked over, and entered The Burrow; leaving Hermione alone.
With a sigh, she closed her eyes and tried to focus. Not on Godric's Hollow, but instead on staying determined and confident to do this. Harry did it that night, and now it was Hermione's turn. Harry was lost, but she was going to find him, and try as hard as she could to bring him back to her.
Finding herself brimming with confidence, and a determination to finally see Harry after such a long wait, she thought of Godric's Hollow, and with a twist, she Apparated away.

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## 4. Well That's Where I Belong

A/N - Some people kept asking me about Hermione's book. What was it about, are we going to hear more about it. Well, the beginning of this chapter is an excerpt from her story, “Song of Sorrows”. The ending, I know some of you will kill me over. Hope you enjoy it, and please review! There's only 1 more chapter left!

Chapter 3
Well That's Where I Belong

As Conny turned off the engine of her small car, she quietly got out, and closed the door. Breathing in deeply, she closed her eyes as she remembered the familiar smell of the ocean mist. It had been years since she was near the ocean, and the salty smell mixed with the light ocean spray influenced her senses; transporting her back to happier times.
Opening her eyes, she walked across the barren road. The quaint, paved road seemed endless, and equally desolate. Beautifully green pasture hugged close to both sides, and stretched past the horizon while the road cut through and moved towards the coast. The road was very rarely used now, as the highway made for quicker trips; but she loved this road. She remembered driving this road the day before he left.
The cry of a gull flying overhead caught her attention, and she watched the bird flap its wings easily as it flew towards the end of the road, where the ocean began. She was so alone on this road in the midday; it would be quite calming to an ordinary person. Conny was too wrapped up in inner turmoil though, and she frustratingly got back in her car, turned the engine over, and sped off towards the coast.
Heaving a heavy sigh, she wiped her forehead, and looked forward. She was so tired of being by herself. Of course she had friends, and family, and many other people she knew, but only he could fill that very specific void that stuck in her heart. Sometimes she could even feel her chest hollow at the dream of seeing him again, and running to his arms and kissing him passionately, like you see in all too many movies. She became used to snickering at those scenes, knowing they never actually happened in real life. Anyone who was that happy, or had a moment that picturesque deserved to get slapped with a dose of reality.
Coming down a small incline, the blue ocean came into view and she smiled briefly, knowing she would soon be sitting on a bench, or picnic table, reading her book. Reading books always gave Conny some peace, being able to just read the words and imagine a whole new world, and—even in her head—escape her own world for a while.
As her car slowly made its way down the hill, she was happy to find no one else there. This would be her spot for the day. She could sit down and read her book in peace, knowing there was not a living soul within miles. It would be her little spot, at the end of the hundred mile road.
Turning off her car, she grabbed her book—a newer one a friend recommended—and her beach blanket, and got out of the car. The rolling of the tide was loud, but harmonious in its rhythm. The sun was bright in the blue sky, and made Conny feel a bit better in the bright colours. The aqua colour of the ocean, the warm beige of the beach sand, the dark brown of the wooden picnic table; it was all very inviting for a book reader.
Sitting, and placing her water bottle down, she looked around the area to breath, see, and listen to it all, when she noticed she in fact was not alone. A small figure of a person walked along the beach far off in the distance.
Conny was disappointed by this of course. Being all the way out in the middle of nowhere, she did not want anyone there, especially a single person. They would probably come there, and try to start a dismal conversation, and ask her questions. It would be annoying, because all she wanted to do was read.
Perhaps if I just stick to my novel, and don't acknowledge their presence, they will leave me alone she thought to herself. Looking up again, she saw it was a man—which made it worst of course—and she buried her eyes in her book.
Reading was almost impossible of course, as she was focusing on the shape of the man walking along. She could not make him out well because she was looking at him from the side of her eyes. She smiled when the man seemed to just continue past her, and walked down the beach. She lost sight of him as he passed behind her and was waiting for him to reappear, but he did not when he was expected.
`Where will I find you all those years from now, searching to find and see if you allow. For at the place where we both belong, I shall go searching for you on the road a hundred miles long' the man spoke softly to Conny.
Conny could feel her spine, her fingers, her legs, her arms; everything tingled and shivered with the words to her own song, sung by the man she wrote them for. She could not believe that it was him, the man she had been trying to find for years and years, finally showed up at the one place she always wanted too.
Dropping her book, and letting it fall off the picnic table and into the sand, she very slowly—and nervously—turned around, and her eyes fell upon the love of her life.
`And though I may not find you in the time that comes to pass, I will always miss your green eyes, green as the summer's grass. But I will always be searching for you from the plains until the sea, for you are my everything and you belong with me' he again spoke gently as he approached. His black hair contrasted greatly to his surroundings, and leapt like fire off his head in the wind.
As he approached, Conny could feel the tears welling in her eyes, and slowly falling down her cheeks. She waited for so long, and was now having her utmost dream come alive. Conny paused for a moment to place her hands on him, worried if he was just her imagination or a dream. He saw the hesitation, and placed his rugged hands on her shoulders. Her heart fluttered in a manner that it had not in years as the man she loved looked down at her with his glaringly brilliant green eyes. Tears where radiating down her cheeks, and the man smiled at her with such care, she beamed at him, and with a love pent up for years, threw herself into his arms and kissed him with a passion no movie could ever picture.

*

Once the siphoning finished pushing against her sides, Hermione opened her eyes, and found herself on a paved road, just outside the town of Godric's Hollow. The road moved down a slight hill towards the town, and Hermione could see the small buildings, and quaint looking homes along the few streets. Knowing her way, she turned away from the direction of the town, and started down towards the Potter's house.
She had only been to Godric's Hollow once, after the war ended. Harry moved in shortly after things settled, and she, along with Ron, Ginny, and the rest of the Weasleys helped clean up. Once they finished, it proved to be a beautifully old house. The elegant staircase and the library were rooms Hermione loved. The library, surprisingly enough, she found she liked the room and its art more than the books that filled the shelves.
The house was visible, and as she approached, her feet began to tingle with each step. She could not imagine how Harry felt that night when he came. She had so much respect for him taking that chance, and doing this. Hermione was determined though, and she would not let anything stop her.
Coming closer, she could see the window drapes were all closed. The stone bricks were storm cloud grey, as were the drapes, and gave the house an ill feeling. Hermione felt the house itself reflected Harry's mood that last night; forlorn and neglected.
Reaching the black iron gate, which stood up to her waist, her mind began wondering if Harry would even speak to her. Would he even answer the door, and if he did, what would stop him from just yelling at her?
Her hand waited on the gate, and she looked up at the two storey house, and then to the walkway to the front door. She knew there was risk in her coming, but she needed to see him. If he wanted to not answer, or yell at her, it was up to him. She deserved it all.
Opening the gate, it squeaked as it was not greased. She turned and closed it with the click of the lock, and she quietly walked towards the stairs that lead to the door. The sky was overcast here, and increased the dismal and worn out feeling to everything.
Waiting on the brink of the first stair, she looked up at the ghostly house and exhaled slowly. She belonged here, with Harry. She knew it, and wondered why she waited so long to search for Harry. If she had gone earlier, she could have been sitting in the grass near her house like she did in her dreams; in the arms of Harry, as he gently kissed her neck and whispered sweet words in her ear, making her beam intensely, and shiver as his breath moved past her ear, and down her neck.
Just the remembrance of the dream made Hermione hopeful, and doubtful at the same time. She wanted it happen so much, but it was all up to Harry. If she went ahead, she would have to put all her dreams in his hands. If she turned, she knew for a fact her dreams would never happen.
Placing her foot on the first step, it creaked loudly. The creak broke the silence that surrounded the house, and Hermione cringed at the annoying step. Wasting no time, she moved up the other stairs quickly and reached the old, dark green painted wooden door.
She could feel her hands shaking as she moved to knock on the door. Her mind was running madly with calculating possible outcomes of this. It seemed she always had some idea of how things would turn out, or how she would want them to. This time however, she had no idea. She wanted things to turn out great, but like Harry did before her, she had to trust fate.
Holding her hand up, she knocked on the door. Her mind was racing more than ever before, and it seemed the knocks echoed around her forever. The wait became almost unbearable, as she just wished she could have Harry open the door, smile at her, and she could run up and hug him like never before.
Continuing to wait, and hearing no movement in the house, she began to worry that she traveled all this distance, and put all this worry into coming to an empty house. She moved over to the window on the porch, and looked in.
The curtains were silk-like, so she could see the armchair and the sitting room it sat in. A fireplace stood on the far wall, and a table sat in the middle of the room, with various novels littered along the top. She could just see the edge of that beautiful staircase, and some of the ancient-looking paintings on the walls.
No one was answering the door though, and Hermione could not see any movement in the house. Her heart and mind began to feel lonely and upset at making such a big deal of coming to see Harry, to only end up on the porch of an empty house.
Deciding not to give up so easily, she decided to move around to the back, in hopes of perhaps finding some movement, or stirring Harry if he was indeed inside.
Stepping off the porch—the last stair again creaking loudly—she turned, and moved around towards the back of the stone house. Once she entered the back, her heart hollowed as memories from the house's clean up surfaced in her mind.
The table everyone ate at still sat in the middle of the back yard. A thicket of trees grew less than one hundred feet from the back door, and the table—in line with the tree line—had weathered the past three to four years. Hermione approached it slowly, and it seemed to her like the table was a reminder of better times. She remembered the night they all sat down for supper. Harry looked so happy to have all his friends and family there, eating at his parents—now his—table. The meal went on for hours, and Hermione vividly remembered the bright green of Harry's eyes as he smiled and laughed with Ron and the others, sharing what still remains, Hermione's best meal ever.
She wanted that supper to never end, and it almost did not. They stayed at that table until very late, talking, laughing, and enjoying each other.. Hermione remembered Mrs. Weasley bringing out the fairy lights, and levitating them from the trees. The glow of the fairies lit the entire table, and left the rest to the darkness of the moon-lit sky.
Reaching the table, she put her fingertips to the old wood, and washed her hand over the surface. It had been ill kept and worn, and turned grey over time. It pained her to see this table, once fine and bright brown with a wonderfully smooth finish, now wasted away, and old.
Sighing, she realized this how Harry felt. Enjoyed and loved at once, and now feeling lost and forgotten. She needed to find him, even if it meant waiting on his doorstep. She would wait forever if she had too, to tell Harry the truth and fix the terrible mistake she made all those years ago. It was where she belonged, and where she should have been a long time before.
Leaving the old table, she walked back around the house—the tall grass reaching up to her knees—and she moved towards the staircase. She was so determined, she would not have noticed a crowd standing in front of the house, let alone a single person. Moving up the steps, she pounded on the first step—which resulted surprisingly in no sound at all. Reaching the top, she again peered into the windows, and again saw nothing or no-one moving. Sighing, she decided to sit on the stairs and wait for Harry to come.
Turning around, she froze instantly, and her eyes grew wider than she could remember, as they came upon the face of the man she had so sorely missed.
`I read your book' Harry expressed evenly.

A/N - So, thought's? Questions? Premonitions? Please review!

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## 5. You Belong With Me

A/N - Alright folks, here it is, the final chapter! From the beginning of Fix You to here, it's been fun writing these stories. I hope you all enjoy the final chapter here, and please review. Let me know what you think of the story.

Chapter 4
You Belong With Me

She could not believe he was there, standing a mere twenty feet in front of her. He had changed a bit in his last few years in isolation, but he still had those eyes—those bright, emerald eyes. Even in the grey world that surrounded them, his eyes still stood out like a pair of lone stars in the night sky.
Her mind was both blank in its shock, and frantic with how to proceed. He just looked at her quietly, holding on to the book that she wrote. Should she run up and hug him? Kiss him? Yell at him?
Or should she stand, and prepare herself for the verbal bombardment that she deserved. Her mind continued to circle, and no viable words could fit what was going through her mind as time continued to tick away with Harry looking up at her from his walk way. Why did he have to look at her like that?
`A- . . . an- . . . . and?' Hermione managed very nervously. She knew from his look what the answer would be: shouts, yells, and a final angry and dejected good-bye. She knew it was coming, and although she thought she was prepared for it, she realized nothing could prepare her for this.
Harry looked down, and moved the book into his line of sight. Hermione was still standing oddly at the top of the stairs, and Harry did not take any steps, be they front or backwards.
Harry sighed, and looked back up at her. `I didn't like it.'
The words hit Hermione like a brick wall. She could feel herself sway with the realization that Harry in fact hated her, and her book. She had feared the idea of seeing Harry and hearing his full anger at the book and her feeling, but she could never visualize it. It was always hard to picture it, because she wanted for it to not happen so badly, she would not let herself visualize it. Of course now there was no need to visualize it; it was happening right in front of her.
It seemed her entire core hollowed with Harry's words and his expression, and her eyes began shedding tears, that cast warmly down her cheeks as she began to hiccup.
`You . . . you di- . . . you didn't?' Hermione asked shakily as more tears fell. She was not asking if it was true, but just because she could still not believe he did not like it. How could he not like it, she poured her heart into it.
Harry maintained his ground as she cried on the front steps of his house, and nodded. `No, I didn't. I would have expected much more from you' he answered, some disappointment entering his tone. Hermione's eyes billowed in more tears at his words, but her mind was also finding his words confusing.
`Wha- . . . what do you mean?' she asked as her breath continued to be broken by hiccups.
`Well' Harry started, taking a step. Hermione's eyes almost completely dried up at noticing he was coming closer. `I'd have expected a mystery, or drama; not romance.' His tone was still disappointed, but Hermione's mind continued to hold to hope. He had not yelled or banished her away yet. He was still talking, and that was enough to keep her hope strong.
`I had oth- . . . other stories, bu- . . . but this was the on- . . . one they wanted' Hermione responded cautiously. She was holding onto a post on the front porch for support, and she was worried if she let go, she would fall down the stairs, and the way her mind was thinking, all the way to the depths of the Earth.
`I see' Harry responded, glancing at the book again.
He looked back up at Hermione, and her mind was finally catching up to her. All of the events of two years ago, the anguish of never hearing from him, the constant reminder of how he was gone; that was all in the past. She remembered how when just earlier that week, the idea that Hedwig had delivered her a note made her more excited than she could remember, and how now, actually seeing Harry, how she should do what she did not do all those years ago.
She had nothing left to give but her heart to Harry, and it was no good living without him knowing the truth, regardless of whether he understood the book or not.
Hermione let go of her logic, and her reason, and put her faith in Harry. Letting go of the post she was dearly holding on to, she took a breath, and with tears still falling down her cheeks slowly, she descended the stairs rapidly, and tackled Harry in a hug.
`Oh Harry' she sniffed as she buried her face in his terribly missed shoulder, `I'm so sorry!'
She could feel Harry hesitate for a moment, but her heart slowed, and her blood turned warm as she felt him drop the book on the ground, and frame her with his arms.
Feeling Harry all around her made Hermione cry even harder as all her memories poured through her mind. Remembering that rainy night in London, and how every time since then, the rain reminded her of Harry, and how utterly depressed they both were that night so long ago. She remembered all those days, so many days, where she found herself curled up on a chair, or sitting on the grass, or anywhere, and thoughts of Harry began to meander through her mind. She remembered, hoped, and dreamed about Harry, and now at least one of those dreams could come true.
Hermione hugged tighter, and her hands pushed harder into his shoulders. Her tears slowed, but only because she had very few left to give. Harry's familiar smell, which Hermione vividly remembered, had changed a bit, and was closer to cologne she remembered Lupin wore. It was sweet, but not strong, and she breathed in his new and wonderful aroma.
`Lupin gave me some of his cologne after that dinner in the backyard' Harry commented, Hermione smiling and letting out a laugh. She wiped her cheeks and closed her eyes again. Somehow, even after all this time, Harry could still tell what she was thinking when they hugged.
`I like it' she said as she felt Harry's hands moving against her back. He was doing it lightly, as she expected, but she could tell they were Harry's hands. He always was gentle with her when it came to hugs.
`Harry' she said, backing up to look at him and clearing her throat quietly, `I'm so sorry. I messed everyth-`
`Hermione' he interrupted, looking down at his feet. Hermione's heart momentarily melted, hearing him say her name for the first time in two years. `Let's . . . let's go for a walk.'
Hermione could hear disappointment again creeping into his voice, and she looked down for a moment, before nodding.
Harry turned slowly, and started towards the gate, but he looked back to find Hermione still standing where he left her.
`Are you coming?' he asked.
`Can I . . . ` Hermione started, looking down at her shoes.
`Can you what?' he asked quietly. Hermione was hesitant to ask because of the situation, but she needed to ask.
`Can I pick where we walk?' she muttered. Harry turned back, and walked towards her.
Harry seemed to scan her over for a few moments, before bending down, picking up her book that he earlier let go, and nodding. `Alright.'
Hermione took a step forward, while her mind was trying to piece together all of what happened so far. She was totally confused as to whether Harry hated her, or loved her. She would have preferred if he just took the extreme road of either of them, be it yelling at her in anger, or kissing her with love (the second choice Hermione was praying for), but he was doing neither. He hadn't yelled, and he definitely did not make to kiss her.
Harry moved closer, and Hermione looked up at him. He calmly put his book in his left hand, and held out his right. Hermione was hesitant to take it, but Harry lowered his glance at her.
`Hermione, you need to guide me there. Unless I know where you're going.'
`No' she responded quietly. `No, you don't know where it is.' She moved over slowly, and reached her hand out to his. Hermione felt it took ages for her hand to drift towards his, but after a decade of slow motion movement, her fingers grazed his palm, and their hands fit into each others. Harry was again, not squeezing hard, but Hermione could feel the shivers move through her core.
Harry was holding her hand. She was holding Harry's hand.
`Hermione?' he asked, looking at her. She shook her head, and came back to reality.
`Oh, sorry. Alright, on three' she said, thinking of her destination. She knew where she wanted to go walking. She had walked there so many times as it was, and she always dreamed of seeing that silhouette of a man walking along the horizon, and approaching her slowly.
`One . . . two' she said, feeling Harry squeeze her hand. `Three.'
Harry moved with her through the siphoning calmly, and did not bump into her once. She stayed more focused than she had ever been before. Her feet landed on the pavement of the road, and she looked up to see the sun fading on the horizon, and the sky patched with puffy clouds shaded in purples and reds.
Harry looked around, and scanned the horizon. `Where are we?'
Hermione smiled at him, and looked ahead. `On the coast. I live just over there' she explained, pointing towards the west, where her house was just over the horizon.
`It's beautiful here. A good change from the Hollow' Harry admitted, looking at Hermione. A shadow of a smile wiped across his face, and Hermione's heart fluttered.
Harry started ahead, and Hermione followed quickly. Harry's hand fell slowly from hers, and her mind turned dark, realizing she still had no idea as to which way he was going to go.
They walked next to each other for a while, and no words were spoken between the two of them. Hermione just still could not believe that Harry, her Harry, was walking next to her, just as she had dreamt about.
Hermione was worried about speaking. She wanted to keep things how they were. She knew it was not perfect, but she didn't want it getting any worse. She knew her speaking could just ruin it all, and make Harry upset. It was a fine line she had to walk, and although she knew she would have to talk at some point, she wanted to enjoy the quietness between them now.
They walked down the paved country road, and continued in quietness. The sky was painted in wonderful shades of blue and deep purple that faded to bright red, with the entire spectrum between mixed in the clouds. A light wind frolicked along the grass, and swayed both their hair as they moved down the road. Both of them looked at the horizon, and the ocean, whose steady music could be heard rolling over the land.
They took an easy pace to walking, and Hermione continually looked at Harry to take in his changes. He was thinner than before, but not much. His hair was longer, but that was to be expected. Hermione thought it looked nice, but his hair was not much of a worry at the moment.
He seemed a little tense with his posture, but Hermione realized that she must look a hundred times worse. She could feel her hands fidgeting around in her pockets as they walked, as the nervousness increased with each passing moment of silence.
`Let's sit down' she said suddenly, breaking the silence that had enveloped them. He looked around, and nodded. The two of them moved off the road and up a small incline to the top of the hill. It was very much like the one Hermione had been sitting at the week before.
Hermione sat down first, and Harry looked about first before following suit. He just looked out at the ocean, and Hermione gazed at him closely.
She was looking for something, anything to tell her what was going on in his mind. Why could he not just say how he feels?
He turned his head and looked at Hermione right in her eyes, and it was then she realized that she was complicating the situation beyond what it was. He calmly looked back out at the ocean as a gull flew over, and she looked out as well.
`I messed up two years ago' she said quietly, glancing at Harry. He breathed in deeply, and sighed.
`We both did' he professed, still looking out. He moved his sight to his side, and put the book on his lap, looking at it again. Hermione looked down at it, and found him stroking the cover with his fingers, dusting it off.
Hermione, seeing Harry with her book in his lap, reached over slowly, and caressed his hand. At first she was scared he would retract his hand, but her heart was not put to such sadness. His other hand holding on to the book, his hand gently entwined with Hermione's, and she nudged closer to him.
They were sitting next to each other, and both looking at each others hands.
`Why did you write it?' Harry asked, looking back at the book, and then at Hermione, who was mere inches away.
She asked for the book with her other hand, and he handed it to her. She looked down at it, and she again looked at Harry, and into his eyes. In the dying sunlight, they seemed to grow in depth, like she was looking into two emerald jewels.
`I wrote it for you Harry' she answered warmly. Harry's eyes stayed on her for a moment, before looking back at the book in her lap. His head dropped, and Hermione pushed forward.
`Harry' she whispered, letting go of his hand and cupping his face so she could see him. `I'm sorry for that night. There's something I should have done then that would have saved us all these years of torment.'
`What?' Harry asked quietly, looking away from her. Hermione, with a little force, moved his face back towards her, and she slowly leaned over.
She tilted her head, and kissed him. He tensed for a few moments, but as Hermione moved herself over, and her hands moved down his neck to his shoulders, his tension floated away, and he began returning the kiss.
Harry slowly moved his hands, and cupped Hermione's face, and she could feel the energy that Harry had pent up running through him. She pushed ever so slightly towards him, and he fiercely moved his hands to her back, and pulled her closer. Their kiss deepened quickly, and Hermione's body pushed to go farther, while her mind was still trying to realize she was kissing Harry.
After that fateful night in London, after all the rainy days, after all those thoughts and dreams, after two years, she was finally kissing Harry.
Their kiss slowed like a train coming to a halt. It was gradual, and pushed on so slowly, Hermione could feel the wind die, and the waves stop as time stood still, and her fingers tingled with the moment. They held together when it was done, like never wishing to stop, and let go of each others lips.
They both breathed in deeply, drinking in the beautiful moments after such a long awaited time. Hermione opened her eyes slowly, and found Harry with the most handsome smile she had ever seen. A tear broke down her cheek, and he pulled her close and hugged her longingly.
Hermione openly laughed, as tears of happiness fell from her eyes. She was terrible at keeping her emotions in check, and Harry brought out the worst of that in her.
`Oh Harry, I'm so sorry about the last two years' she admitted from his back.
`I was sad, beyond belief, but it doesn't matter now Hermione. What matters is now, and that things can be fixed. Who knew Hagrid would be the one to do it though?' he chuckled, Hermione doing the same.
`Why didn't you come back?' Hermione asked, regretting the question once she realized what she said.
Harry sighed for a moment, and looked at her. `I was just too much in a sea of unhappiness. I thought I ruined everything, and that everyone hated me. I kept tabs on you guys, but at first I wasn't going to read your books. I felt that sea wash over me, and I could feel myself drowning in it. I wanted to too, but it was Hagrid who convinced me to try and read you book. I was going to leave tomorrow for Australia, but I just finished the book today.'
`And now?' Hermione asked hesitantly.
`And now' Harry responded, picking up the book, `now I realize I am the one who made the mistake. I was this close to being swallowed in the sea, but you showing up, and reading your book, made me realize I was wrong. I'm sorry I did this to you Hermione. Now I don't know where I belong.'
He looked away, and Hermione felt frustrated at Harry. He did everything right that night, and he was still blaming himself.
`Harry' she said confidently, again moving his face towards hers. `We both made mistakes alright, and I know exactly where you belong.'
`Where?' he asked, Hermione smiling.
`You belong with me.' Harry smiled at her, and a flicker of a tear ran down his cheek. She wiped away soothingly, and kissed him again warmly.
The two of them stayed on the hills near the ocean well into the night, and returned to Hermione's home hand in hand. They had talked all the time, about what had taken place in the last years, and what was going on with their friends.
Entering Hermione's home, Crookshanks gave Harry a welcoming rub against his leg, and he asked to use Hermione's owl.
`What for?' she asked as she turned on the lights. She still used some Muggle devices, and electric lights where one of them.
`I just need to write someone.'
Hermione brought her owl to Harry, and he wrote his message, which the owl was bringing to its addressee moments later.
Thanks Hagrid
A/N - So, what are your thoughts? I hope you enjoyed both stories. If you look at it, you'll realize that Hagrid, by coincidence of his actions, actually caused Harry and Hermione to get back together. He deserves the credit. :)

There may be another chapter added on later, to fix up some of the loose ends that are left (like how others will react, Harry and Ron's reunion, what Ginny's up to, etc), but for now, this is the ending. That extra chapter will be added later, after I dig myself out of the homework pile I'm currently under.

Again, hope you liked the stories; all I ask is you please review! Feel free, if you wish, to go to the recs section here on Portkey, and add your own comment this story's topic, which was kindly started by swong_88.

Also, feel free to check out my other stories if you wish! :)

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