# Nostalgia

IntenseSwimmer26

Rating: PG13
Genres: Drama, Romance
Relationships: Harry & Hermione
Book: Harry & Hermione, Books 1 - 6
Published: 07/04/2007
Last Updated: 13/04/2007
Status: In Progress

An idealistic approach to how Harry & Hermoine's romantic adventures ensue. Unpredictable and entertaining. R&R! Post Hogwarts!

## 1. Hear You Me

There's no one in town I know
You gave us some place to go.
I never said thank you for that.
I thought I might get one more chance.
What would you think of me now,
so lucky, so strong, so proud?

Tornadic winds swept the murky green road as a humbled black figure made it's way slowly towards a white house. Leaves and water splashed themselves along his boots, the winds howled and trees bent as the raging storm continued. His slow progress was hindered even more by a gash on his left leg, still bleeding profusely. There wasn't a sign of life along the storm washed line of villas. He pulled his water drenched coat more tightly around him, bowing his head into the merciless torrents. Razor like beads of rain and hail stung his skin, numbing his appendages and blurring his vision. Yet, he staggered on. His destination was the only thought that consumed his mind. The past month, the image of the picket white fence, sprawling lush green grass surrounding the countryside home was the only thought that kept him going. It had been the longest month of his life and now, with the final task completed, he was his own person again. He shook his hair from his eyes, wiped the salty mixture of blood and sweat from his lips, and dragged on. The feirce storm lamented on, howling and dancing around him. It was truly the rage of divinity.

__

Throught the day the cloud that hung over the city of London became ever more ominous as night approached. As soon as the sun sank into the horizon an irate clashing of wind and rain pelted down. Inhabitants scurried to find shelter, children abandoned their outdoor activities in exchange for a warm fire and a place by the windows to watch the heavens fight. Comforting food was distributed amongst friends and family and laughter ensued. Figures who sat alone chose to also migrate near a burning fireplace, choosing odd sorts of entertainment to entice their.

A small woman was one of those lone figures basking in the ambiance and heat from the embers. The flames danced and flirted eagerly, cheerfully filling the silent room with cracking and popping. Thunder crashed outside, causing the great beast in which this woman rest her head raise it's own head, seeking the source of the noise. A fit of lightning gave it it's answer. Sniffing momentairily, the Saint Bernard apparently found no immediate danger to his mistress and lay his lazy head back down. It wasn't long until he fell asleep.

The sweet burning logs and the warmth from the fire made the woman drowsy. Her novel lay against her chest as she began to doze off. As the elements waged civil war, the creatures indoors and out sought shelter and rest. This woman, brown hair up in a messy bun, laying on her only source of protection and friendship during this night, was no different.

A stiff knock came from the front door. The petite woman set down her book, checking the clock. The dog, Sirius, raised his head. This time, it's ears were peaked forward and his head cocked to one side. The woman petted Sirius' head, wondering who could be calling on her.

It's too late for normal callers.

She stood up, sliding her wand up her sleeve, just in case. She stepped over the Saint Bernard, nimbly walking towards the stairs. Sliding her eye to the peephole, she let out a gasp of astonishment and flung open the door. The black figure outside was leaning heavily against the door frame.

“Harry!” she cried as the storm beaten man toppled inward.

A/N: Well, I'm back in action everyone! As far as my previous two stories go, I may or may not continue. It depends. I have a busy schedule and I've decided to pick up writing again. Please, I know it's just the very beginning, but constructive critisism is appreciated, as well as compliments .

Peace all!

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## 2. Work

A/N: Thanks for the reviews all I'm hoping for a few more for this chapter, but while I have nothing to do except watch reruns, I'll write a bit more. FYI- if it's italicized, it's thoughts. It should be clear as to whose thoughts they are. Just a side note about my writing - I write based on the mood I am in. If I write a sad chapter, it's usually because I'm sad and channeling despondent emotions. Also, I LOVE feedback from my readers - that'd be you guys - so if you're reading my writings (and I know it's early, being the start of the 2 nd chapter to this installment) and you have an idea for a plot twist or something, feel free to email me or leave me a review or something. I love hearing the creative juices from you guys. Also, if anyone is looking for a beta reader, I'm free . I'm really good with grammar and such, so if you need help on that part then feel free to let me know…. So, enough with my babbling, let the show continue!

All I can say
I shouldn't say
Can we take a ride?
Get out of this place
While we still have time

Slamming the door on the shrieking winds, Hermione rushed to aid a staggering Harry. Coughing up blood and water, he was a pathetic sight to behold, doubled over on their entrance hall floor. She sank to his level, pulling off his sodden coat. He sat coughing and gasping for breath. A million questions flooded into her mind, swimming to get out, but she bit her tongue. He seemed to be in no state to talk, let alone answer questions.

“Let's get you up by the fire.” She suggested, pulling him up and leaning him onto her. Together they staggered into the living room where Sirius' moved his hulking figure to make way for Harry. Hermione tossed several throw pillows onto the ground for herself, then slid the couch closer to the heat source as Harry stood on his own, head bowed, swaying. She helped peel off his still soaking shirt, leaving him only in a torn wife beater. She held in a gasp at the sight of the bruises on his torso and back and the lacerations.

What happened to him in there?

“Here, lay here. I'll get you something to drink. Tea?” she asked as she helped lower him tenderly onto her leather sofa.

“Water. Painkillers, if you've got them.” Harry whispered, wincing as he shifted his position. His emerald eyes were closed, and Hermione's eyes flicked to the scar on his forehead, more pronounced than ever, along with scratches, dirt, dried blood, and bruises. Restraining herself from kissing each and every wound, she hurried to the kitchen to fetch him water. By the time she returned, Sirius had settled himself at the foot of the sofa, facing outward as to protect his master. Harry had his eyes closed and was breathing easily, almost as if he was asleep. Hermione gazed at him for a moment, wondering what to say and what to do, flooded with an irresistible desire to know what went on there.

“Here, Harry, drink. Take 2…no, 3.” She said ever so softly, handing him 3 painkillers. He propped himself up with a great deal of difficulty and accepted the water and pills with a grateful look. He downed both in one gulp and settled himself back down. An awkward silence ensued as the winds raged outside. Kicking over a few of the throw pillows, Hermione sank down to the floor near Harry's waist and grabbed a hold of his hand. His eyes were closed and he was breathing softly again.

“I know you…want to know.” He said with great difficulty.

Of course I do. She scanned the bruises on his ribs that peaked out from under his wife beater,

“When you want to tell me.” She replied gently. His eyes remained closed. He shook his head but didn't say anything else. Hermione took this to mean that he didn't want to get into it now.

“Sleep, you look exhausted. Want to go to bed? Or stay here?” Hermione questioned. Cracking of the merry fire place in the background seemed to be slightly out of place. With his arrival, Harry brought in a new whirlwind of emotions. The comfort and content atmosphere that graced her before his arrival had dissipated. An air of foreboding was slowly settling on the couple as drool dripped stupidly from their dog's mouth.

“Bed.” He whispered out, hoarse and ever so softly. Harry made to get up, winced and clutched his ribs, then fell back.

“I'll help you. Come on, it's more comfortable upstairs.” Hermione said, easing his back off as he swung his legs over.

“It hurts all over.”

“I know, Harry, I know.”

“Can you make it stop?” he asked. She looked at him, his eyes were open. Aside from being red rimmed and bloodshot, the emerald green stood out so profoundly that for a moment she was taken aback. He pleaded with her silently, desperately hoping that she knew somehow to take away his soreness and aches.

“Yes. Come on, let's get you to bed.” She said, helping him up the stairs. It was slow progress; each step caused a sharp pain to shoot up his legs and through his body to the tips of his fingers. Reaching the landing, Hermione gave him the chance to catch his breath.

“Sorry.” He murmured, hanging his head humbly.

“Harry, hush. Come on. A few more feet.”

These last few feet were painstaking but they finally managed to make it into the bedroom they had shared for the past 3 months. She led him to the bed and aided him to slide under the covers. Slinking out of her clothes, she slipped into her pajamas and eased herself into bed next to him. Starting at his scar, she kissed each and every wound she could see, moving down his body to the waste of his pants. There, she stopped. She worked her way back up again as sighs from Harry encouraged her. After repeating this a few times, she rolled over, resting her cheek on his shoulder ever so gently, and kissed his cheek.

“Goodnight Harry.”

**

(The next morning…)

The next morning Hermione awoke to find the bed empty. All night she could feel him tossing and turning, wincing and moaning as he turned suddenly onto his bruises. Pulling on a bathrobe, she padded downstairs to the kitchen in search of Harry. She found him dozing at the kitchen table, head resting in hand, a cup of coffee sitting precariously near the edge of the table. For a moment she leaned against the door frame, a small smile sliding onto her countenance, as she absorbed the sight of Harry's messy hair, disheveled appearance, and peaceful expression as he slept at their kitchen table. He had been gone for a month, doing what, she didn't know. All she knew was that he was alive, and that he would return to her. That was the only thing she knew for 31 days. Alone, it was not enough to keep her from worrying. So, she dove into her work by day, and by night she sat and worried. He could have been anywhere, doing anything for anyone. for the Order, for himself, for the Ministry…

Hermione left him to sleep; knowing he probably needed it, and began busying herself with breakfast. She had just finished the toast when he finally began to stir.

“Whazzat? Huzzere?” he grumbled, sitting up and whipping his face. “Food?”

“Food, yes. You fell asleep. What time did you wake up?”

“I don't know. Late. Early. God, I'm so tired.”

“Well here,” Hermione stated, placing a steaming plate of eggs, sausage, and toast in front of him. “Eat.”

“You're amazing.” Harry managed to bleat out before he dove head on into his food. Hermione ate slowly, watching his grotesque manners silently. When he had finished, he leaned back in his chair slowly, still unsure of himself and what would hurt him. Hermione laid down her fork and sat back, looking at him. There was complete silence in the kitchen except for the buzzing of the fridge.

“No. I don't want to talk about it.” Harry replied to his unstated question. He stood up, putting his plate in the sink and turned to face her.

“I didn't -“

“I know. Not now. But we have to go. I can't explain now, but we need to go.”

“What? Go where? Why?” Hermoine wondered, standing up.

“Hermione, please. I need your help. I'll explain everything later. We just have to go, now. Please.” He pleaded. For a moment she wanted to say no, to demand answers now. Something in his tone, something in his smile kept her from doing so.

“Okay.”

A/N take 2: Starting slow, yeah? Leave reviews and I'll take it up a notch! This is about the average size of the posts - more or less may occur depending on the amount of time I have between school and work and other stuff. Reviews!!

Peace.

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## 3. Pens And Needles

Just to survive we do what we can
we read the maps and signs, and we make the plans
by our design I write it down to get me by
the worst time in my life
And all I had was the memory of what was
so let's pretend it never mattered to us
I hope this message finds you well
Never thought I'd live to tell
what's a dream and what is real,
the way I really feel

And so, they fled. Hermione wasn't quite sure where they were headed, but she knew Harry must have a reason. With that thought alone she allowed him to rush her, hurrying between terminals with their luggage in hand to their designated flight gate. With few minutes to spare they managed to make it, breathing heavy, to the terminal. A portly, friendly attendant greeted them and promptly checked them in. Harry, still in pain and littered with bruises, collapsed heavily into a plastic chair suspended over the sea foam colored carpet by a metal bar. No sooner had he sat down to rest he found himself popping back up with the announcement by the male flight attendant to the boarding of their plane.

The flight was smooth with a little turbulence. Hermione was terrified, clutching Harry's arm and leaving her own bruises. The idea that the only thing separating her feet and 20,000 feet of pure nothing was a thin layer of insulation and metal did nothing to comfort her. Trying to find a happy place and breathing deeply she managed to survive the flight. The attendants were more than gracious and friendly to the couple.

Harry said nary a word the whole flight. He stared out to the clouds floating past, holding Hermione's hand absently. When Hermione tried to open conversation, he shut it down with one worded answers.

“Harry?” she would ask.

“Hmm?”

“Are you okay?”

“Fine.” was his monotonous reply.

Giving up on conversation, Hermione instead turned to her other option - sleep. Trying to settle her nerves she asked for a cup of tea and reclined her seat. Breathing deeply she began to reminisce on the past month of her life without Harry.

It had been rough. Being with him since the demise of Lord Voldemort nearly 2 years ago had been great and she couldn't be happier. Their romantic relationship was flawless, and when they did have blemishes they were soon to fix them. They hardly argued, but there was never a need - they knew each other too well. They avoided the cause of conflict by communication. To Hermione, it was a fairy tale. Until one night they had a heart to heart discussion.

It was a quiet night that summer. The crickets were chirping in the trees surrounding their porch, all their friends were tucked away in the lopsided rooms of the Burrow, and the couple sat alone on the makeshift Quidditch field behind the house. Harry and Hermione gazed at the stars, humbled at the thought of the entire universe spinning around them.

“Pick one.” Harry said, gesturing at the constellations and planets overhead.

“Pick one?” Hermione clarified, unsure of his point.

“Yes, pick one. Any one. It'll be yours.”

“Harry, how can you get me a star?” she asked, turning on her side to look at him instead of the inky black night.

“Hermione, I can do anything for you.” He replied, looking at her through his glasses. She smiled and kissed him softly.

“You are so sweet.” She whispered between kisses. He looked at her slyly.They shared a quiet laugh under the Milky Way. A comfortable silence ensued while creatures of the night serenaded them. Suddenly, as if coming out of a reverie, Harry turned to look at Hermione.

“I don't know if I want to be an Auror, Hermione.” He said. Flabbergasted at his random outburst, Hermione didn't reply.

“I mean, it's what I'm expected to do. I never really thought I'd live past Voldemort, so I picked something that was cool when we were at Hogwarts for something to look forward to, something to try to aspire to if I ever did survive. Now that I have, I have you to look forward to. I don't know if this is what I want. I mean, it's a great thing - you'll never get bored, you get to take risks, be your own boss most of the time, and of course catch bad guys. That's all I've seem to do though…fight people. I'm sick of fighting, Hermione. I just want to take time off, relax and live a little.” He continued, voicing thoughts Hermione could tell had been mulling about for some time.

“What would you do then?” she asked quietly, touching his scar.

“I don't know…play Quidditch? Or maybe…”

“Maybe? Maybe what?” she questioned, curiosity peaked.

“Well, I've been thinking about opening my own thing. Maybe a restaurant. Something different - a pub or a bar or something. I like cooking; I'm good at it too. I don't know, it's stupid but it's an idea…” he told her, hesitantly. He looked at her, desire to hear her thoughts in his eyes.

“Harry, I think it'd be great for you. I want you to be happy more than anything in the world. If it takes cooking or flying or fighting banshees to make that happen, I'm all for it. You know I'll worry about you no matter what you do, but if you go into the Auror program, I'll be afraid for you. I want you to be happy, Harry, but I want you to be safe too. But it's not up to me, after all you've done you deserve a chance to live.” She whispered, kissing his forehead. He buried his face in her neck and they laid in the dewy grass for another moment.

“I hate not knowing what you do down there.” Harry said into her neck.

“Where? The Department of Mysteries?” she asked, pulling back his hair to look him in the eyes.

“Yes. I'm afraid it's dangerous or something.” he confessed boyishly. He shook his head. “I don't like not knowing what you're being exposed to. I want to protect you, you know.”

“Harry, I can protect myself- “she started.

“I know that, Hermione, it's just that I feel better when I help. It makes me feel like I've done something important. All I've seem to do lately is attend charity functions, press interviews, posing with various important wizards and witches…it's nothing! You, you're doing well. You're finding stuff. Hell, I don't know what you're doing, but it's more important than what I'm doing.” He lamented, frustrated ruffling his hair. She smiled at him and shook her head.

“Harry, but you've been doing so much. Take time off, let's get away. Just one day drop everything and go somewhere. Just us, no magic if we want. Just get out of here and live as a normal couple.” She suggested to him. He contemplated it for a moment before replying.

“Do you promise to go away with me one day?”

“I promise Harry. I promise.”

She never knew he felt that being an elite Auror wasn't his calling. In Hogwarts when the discussion of future careers surfaced he only mentioned Auror training. In retrospect, the entire wizarding world seemed to expect it of him. Near the end of their seventh year and immediately following the Last Battle, all they, the press, could talk about was where he was going after that. Owls from thousands of businesses and organizations sent him letters pleading with him to be one of their advocates or employees. A few he accepted, mostly charities he felt passionate about. For the most part though, he stayed home and worked out or played Quidditch with Ron. He didn't go out much, he didn't need to. He stayed in his circle of friends and family. The rest of the world was only hungry to be drenched in his glory. To them, Harry Potter was very much a mystery.

But to Hermione, he was not so much a mystery as a thriller. She loved him, she knew that. He loved her, she was almost positive of. They hadn't voiced it, but then again it was difficult. In the early stages of their courtship he confessed he would have a hard time voicing that. He had a subliminal fear that those whom he loved were in constant danger. These fears were not unfounded due to the fact of the large number of fugitive Death Eaters fleeing capture. Death threats on lives of the Weasly's, Hermione's, and his own were common practice. They seemed to not faze him any more, but then again, part of Harry will never be figured out. No matter how many jigsaws or codes given to her in the Department of Mysteries, the one thing that will never be cracked by Hermione is Harry. Looking at him in such deep concentration on the plane confirmed this. Knowing him so well, she never expected a random out burst such as this where he wouldn't shine even the thinnest ray of light on as to why they were leaving, where they were headed, or what he had endured the past month.

Biting her lip at asking the torrent of questions ripping at her lips, she also wanted to say so much to him. To tell him off for keeping her in the dark, to tell him how he scared her by leaving without a word and to how angry she was when he left without saying goodbye. A letter explaining the reason arrived shortly later, but for a while it wasn't a sufficient source of information. After a while without another letter, she realized that the post she got three days after his disappearance was the only word she'd get until he returned and she tried to put the matter behind her.

Her thoughts were interrupted as the seatbelt sign clicked on again and the flight attendant's voice came over the fuzzy intercom.

“We will be landing shortly so please return the seat back table tops to their upright position and fasten your seatbelts. The weather outside is the high eighties and sunny. Welcome to the Caribbean everybody; we hope you have a safe and lovely stay and thank you for flying with us. We hope to see you again!” she said cheerily, her falcetto voice already bubbling with excitment of tropical paradise.

After exiting the plane, grabbing their luggage, and leaving the airport terminal the magical couple finally set foot on their getaway spot - sunny, mystical island in the middle of the Caribbean.

A gentleman with long black hair in dreads and dark lashes swathed in ratty clothes and flashy jewelry swaggered up to them with two flowers in his hand. He handed them both to Hermione and shook Harry's hand.

“Welcome to the Caribbean, lads.” He said. With a clink of gold and fake silver he turned on the heel of his boot and swaggered in a half drunken sway in the other direction.

A/N: okay, so it's not much but I wanted to give you guys something! This is what you call a `filler chapter'. Next chapter will be much better and hopefully longer - I work a lot and have so much school work during the week so I hardly have time. Thankfully tomorrow is Friday and that is followed by the weekend so I should have time to write a chapter with substance to it. I finalized my plot today and I think you all will enjoy it! I do hope it's fresh and original and I believe it will keep you all guessing. Again, REVIEWs are great! Drop me a line please! I've had over 900 hits and 6 reviews. Come on guys! Please? Thanks all.

Peace

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