Need and Want by ChocolateFrogsForBreakfast

Rating: PG
Genres: Angst, Romance
Relationships: Harry & Hermione
Book: Harry & Hermione, Books 1 - 5
Published: 05/09/2004
Last Updated: 05/09/2004
Status: Completed

Just before the sixth year of school begins, Harry comes to a realization in an unlikely way.
Hermione’s POV. This is also cross-posted at LJ. Many thanks to Anne U for the beta! The sequel to
this fic is "The Rest of the Day".




1. Need and Want
----------------



**Need and Want**

**Rating:** PG

**Pairing:** Harry/Hermione

**Length:** 5289 words

**Summary:** Just before the sixth year of school begins, Harry comes to a realization in an
unlikely way. Hermione's POV.

There he is. I haven't seen or heard from him for almost two months and now twin urges are
quarreling within me. Part of me wants to run to him. Throw my arms around him. *Remind him.*
The other part wants to duck and run. Protect myself from him. He didn't respond to any of my
letters all summer long…even when I begged.

But who am I kidding? A humorless smile briefly appears on my face. I won't run away from
him as long as there's a spark of life in my body. Still, I can't just pretend to myself
that everything's all right. That I can take this for another year and be okay. Not
anymore.

Hedwig is sitting in her carrier on top of the armoire, her amber eyes fixed on me. I hold my
finger up to my lips and she blinks. Hedwig probably spent almost as much time at my home as she
did at the Dursleys' this summer. *`Please come back soon even if he doesn't send
anything,'* I said so many times as I fastened my parchments to her leg.

I'm not an impatient person. I'm really quite adept with things that require painstaking
diligence over a length of time, thank-you-very-much. I'm absolutely fantastic at doing all the
things necessary and beyond to reach a goal. But relationships don't appear to work that way—at
least not with Harry Potter. Once you've completed `A' and `B', `C' doesn't
necessarily follow.

I hate feeling so out of control. Waiting. I'm not sure how much longer I can stand this,
pouring so much of myself into him and having precious little response in return. A new school year
will start tomorrow and I wonder if I have anything more to look forward to regarding Harry. Am I a
coward for wanting it to be him who makes the first move? Am I a fool for waiting? I'm afraid
that the answer to both questions is `yes'.

I stand watching him in my indecision suddenly realizing he's not really in the room with me
anyway. I begin to understand the slight look of warning in Mrs. Weasley's eyes when she told
me where he was. He's staring out the grimy window, unconsciously skimming the glass with his
fingertips; reaching for something... He seems different to me somehow. Yes, I can see that
he's grown a bit taller and he's certainly thinner from his months at the Dursleys, but
I'm not talking about the physical here. It's just…him. Something's been added or taken
away—I'm not sure which. Maybe both.

There's tension in the way he stands there and the awful longing on his face chases away any
lingering anger or hurt from my mind for the moment. In situations requiring courage or loyalty,
he's the mountain that will not be moved. But in matters of the heart, he's absolutely
unsure of himself. Fragile.

I'm grateful that Harry hasn't noticed my presence yet because I'm entertaining the
thought of quietly going back downstairs to join the others. They're probably getting ready to
eat dinner in the pub area of The Leaky Cauldron. But then my eyes are drawn abruptly down as an
orange blur darts past me. `*No, Crookshanks!'* I gasp inwardly.

But Crookshanks scurries to Harry before I can grab him. Harry starts as he feels the gentle
pressure winding around his legs and I'm surprised to see the intensity vanish from his face as
he bends and greets Crookshanks fondly. Am I imagining it or is that cat smirking at me as he purrs
loudly against Harry's hand? Then, as though suddenly realizing that my cat doesn't usually
travel alone, Harry's head snaps up, his eyes finding mine.

He says my name joyfully and I rush to his open arms. Big surprise. But then, my eyes widen as I
feel his warm lips brush my cheek and, helplessly, I feel the hope that I've quashed for the
past year begin to expand like my hair on a humid day. He's *never* done anything like
this before. I have to quell my instinctive response to pull back so I can see his face and analyze
what he means by it.

But I'm too afraid I'll see what I've always seen and choose to just enjoy this
uncommon embrace as I feel Crookshanks weaving softly in and out of our legs. For once I'm
quiet, afraid that what I'm thinking will pour right out of my mouth and drench us in
awkwardness. When we finally release each other, all we can do is smile nervously for a moment
while the air around us stirs with uncertainty.

“You've grown taller.” I inwardly roll my eyes because I can't believe that these inane
words are the first thing to come out of my mouth.

But he keeps his smile and nods, seemingly glad that the silence has been broken. “Yeah, I have.
My back and legs have ached all summer from it.” His smile fades just a bit. “You look a lot
thinner, Hermione. You all right?”

I nod. But I can't help but remember the sleepless nights and the nervous stomach that
plagued me all summer and my fear for him.

Then before I know it, I blurt out, “Why didn't you answer my letters? I've been so
worried!” My voice sounds horribly plaintive and I immediately resolve to have my vocal chords
removed. The miserable look that passes over his face makes me want to kick myself across the
Thames and back. But it doesn't stop me from wanting an answer.

Harry is silent for a moment. His gaze reverts to the window and he looks as though he'd
like to go through it. I quickly grasp his arm and start to apologize but he shakes his head and
meets my eyes again. “I tried, Hermione,” he answers quietly. “I'm really sorry. I
just…couldn't.” His voice fades as he lowers his head.

Tears prickle in my eyes and I can't help but gather him in my arms. I'm a little
surprised when he doesn't end this embrace quickly. Instead, he seems to almost rest against me
as though seeking comfort, which is very un-Harry like. And though I've craved this closeness
from him for so long, it worries me even more.

>>>>>>>>>>>>

Dinner is an interesting affair, all of us gathered around the pub's long table trying to
draw Harry out. He's having none of it. He isn't rude in any way—he responds nicely to
everyone's attempts to engage him in conversation but no one gets more than two or three
sentences from him before he turns back to his food or asks someone to pass him a bowl of something
that he doesn't intend to eat. He's hardly eaten anything—just keeps pushing his food
around with his fork.

“You know, your chips haven't gotten `The Plate Tour' yet.” I whisper, keeping my voice
and face as serious as I can. “I think they're about to protest.”

“Oh, yeah. Thanks.” Harry nods quickly prodding them with his fork. “Didn't mean to leave
them out.”

“Harry, you okay?” I say even more softly.

The corners of his lips quirk a bit and I can barely hear his response, “If I weren't, do
you think I would tell you here?”

I shake my head and mouth, “Sorry.”

Harry goes back to food shifting and I glance up to find Ron eyeing us from across the table. He
lifts a questioning eyebrow and I shrug slightly in response. Ron's gaze switches to Harry and
I know he's wondering the same thing I am: How much longer is Harry going to hold himself apart
from us and what's he hiding that's strong enough to separate us?

I resolve to find out, fully aware that it won't be easy. There's so much about Harry
that I know. I've studied him long enough for Heaven's sake. I can tell you almost exactly
how he'll react in any given situation. I can tell you what frightens him and what makes him
merely uncomfortable. I can tell you what he likes and what he wants, what he's good at and
what needs work.

But I know next to nothing about Harry's past. And I don't mean what happened when he
was one year and three months old. I'm talking about his time with the Dursleys. Yes, I know
they mistreat him horribly—that's obvious. But as cowardly as it is, I'm not sure I want to
know the details. Someday, yes. But right now it would wreck me. I watch him as he looks around the
room but doesn't take it in. It's as though he's not seeing what we see, not where we
are. I wish I could look through his eyes into his world. See the point of his separation.
Understand.

All at once, I'm startled by the realization that Harry's looking quizzically at me. I
feel warmth rush into my cheeks as I quickly lower my gaze to my plate, breaking my unintended
stare. Ron's foot connects with my shin under the table and I just barely lift my eyes to find
him scowling at me. I decide I've had enough of both of them for today and to everyone's
surprise I stand, quietly excusing myself as I begin to make my way upstairs.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>

A clock quietly chimes once. I look up from my book and gaze into the softly crackling fire.
*`There's not much better than a good book, a warm fire and a comfy chair.'* I shift
position a bit in the chair and return my attention to the page in front of me but then my head
snaps up as I hear a creak from the stairs.

I slowly close *The Standard Book of Advanced Spells* as I hear another one, closer this
time. Rising quickly to my feet, I gaze around the pub but the only light I have is from the fire
in the grate. I know Harry is somewhere in this room even though I can't see him…I *know*
it*.*

I say his name softly but get no answer. *`Bloody Invisibility Cloak!'* My hands reach
out and swipe at the air in front of me and I begin stepping forward continuing to grope with my
hands. If anyone else saw me right now, they'd think I've gone mental but I don't
care.

I can strangely feel his movements and I know I'm closing in on him—backing him into the
long wooden table where we eat our meals. Sure enough, I hear the table shift and creak and my hand
finally makes contact with the fluid material that I know covers Harry. As I begin to slide it from
him, I realize that he's actually crouching *on* the table and my lips twitch into a
smirk.

“Dammit, Hermione!” Harry whispers exasperatedly, obviously not amused. “What're you
*doing* down here?” he growls as he hops down from the table and yanks the cloak from my
hands.

My eyebrows disappear into my fringe. “I asked Tom if I could read in the pub so I wouldn't
keep Ginny up. What are *you* doing down here?” I toss back at him.

The look on his face is defiant and after a long moment he says, “I'm going out.”

“What d'you mean, `you're going out'?” I whisper heatedly as my hands go to my
hips.

“I mean I'm going *out*!” He glares at me and jabs his finger in the direction of the
door.

“You are *not*!”

“Do you think you can stop me?”

I want to wipe the smirk off his face but instead I raise an eyebrow and stare into those green
eyes.

After a long moment, Harry says, “Hermione, please…” Quickly changing tack, his voice now
wheedles paired with a look on his face designed to soften me. But I'm not buying it. Yet.

“Why?” I ask folding my arms across my chest. “It's not safe.”

“I'll be under the cloak—no one will see me.”

“Harry, where are you going?”

“I just want to go for walk,” he says quietly. “To get away for a bit. Not long, I promise.”

“Honestly, Harry, you don't even know your way around Lon—”

“I won't get lost, Hermione and even if I do, I'll just call the Knight Bus to bring me
back here.

“Harry…”

“*Please*,” he whispers, his green eyes imploring mine, “I need to get away from here for
just a little bit.”

I'm folding and I know it. I hold his gaze for a moment then nod. “But only if you take me
with you.”

Harry blinks as though surprised by my acquiescence and subsequent demand but then finds his
voice. “No.”

“If you want to go, you will.”

*“Really.”* The defiance is back in his eyes and his voice.

“Yes, *really*.” I rack my brain then my lips curve into a small smile. “I know what charms
they used to lock the door…and how to unlock them. Feel free to try it but you'll set off an
unholy alarm if you use the wrong spell or so much as touch the handle right now.”

Harry's eyes narrow as he realizes he's between me and a hard place. “Alright,” he says
shortly. “You can come. But two conditions: you can't talk about this world,” Harry glances up
and around The Leaky Cauldron then back to me and his gaze is pointed. “And you can't ask me
how I'm doing.”

Although I don't like the terms, I nod realizing that Harry needs some control here. “I need
to go and get my trainers,” I say. “Do you promise to wait for me?”

“Yes.”

I start up the steps then turn back and lock eyes with Harry. “If you're not here when I get
back, so help me…”

“I said I'd wait,” he returns impatiently. “So hurry up.”

Trying not to wake Ginny, I hastily pull my shoes on, grab my wand and quietly hurry back down.
But there's no sign of Harry anywhere. Anger and fear begin to course quickly through me and to
my consternation, I feel the quick sting of tears in my eyes. *`How could he?'* Then I
feel a poke in my ribs but I'm in no mood to giggle. Relief washes through me but it leaves me
hollow.

Harry removes his cloak and comes around to face me, smirking. “I said I'd wait. Don't
you trus—” He notices my watery eyes. “Hey,” he says softly as his face falls. “I didn't mean
to upset you. I'm sorry.”

I just shake my head. “Let's go,” I say removing the locking spells as I walk toward the
door until I notice Harry's not walking with me. I turn around and he's rooted to his spot
staring at me almost perplexedly. “Are you coming or not?” I ask flatly with a tilt of my head. He
nods, finally starting towards me, and after he carefully covers us both with the Invisibility
Cloak we walk into the night together.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>

The air is thick and moist, swirling around our feet like a cloudy potion. “Which way do you
want to go?” I whisper as we stand on the damp pavement. I can tell I'm going to have trouble
ignoring how close our bodies are going to be on this `walk'.

Harry shrugs glancing up and down the street. “What d'you think?”

“Trafalgar Square is that way.” I gesture tentatively to our left.

Harry nods. “That's fine, then.”

And we begin making our way south down Charring Cross Road. I wonder why there aren't more
people about on a weekend night but then I realize that it's past time for the Underground to
be running. Soon, I can see the grand staircase and columns of St. Martin-in-the-Fields. I
can't help but smile. I love that place. When I was growing up my mum and I would sometimes
come into London on a day trip during my hols from school. We always tried to catch one of the free
lunchtime concerts if it was on the right weekday.

Harry notices my smile and raises his eyebrows. “What?” he asks softly.

I quietly tell him about the concerts and end with “…and Mozart and Handel actually performed
here. And there's a café down in the crypt under the church. My mum and I liked to eat there
after the concerts.”

“Sounds a little morbid.”

“Yes, but it's not really. It's actually bright and cheery and the food is wonderful. I
guess I just didn't think much about having my chair resting on someone's grave while I was
eating.” Wanting to get away from the subject of death, I say, “Do you see the clock face up on the
base of the steeple?” Harry cranes his neck along with me. “I don't know if you can tell in the
dark or not but it's the most beautiful color of blue.”

We begin to walk down the sloping sidewalk beside the wall of the open area where Lord
Nelson's Column is surrounded by huge black lions and curving fountains. In the silence, I
become uncomfortably aware of Harry's closeness to me. I wonder how much longer the cloak will
be able to cover more than one of us.

I feel Harry shift and I turn to see what he's doing. Suddenly his breath is warming my nose
and warning sirens sound through my mind. Our eyes meet for a strange moment and I audibly swallow
the tension that has quickly expanded in my throat. Harry looks away first but not before an odd
look briefly shadows his face.

“What's that building?” He asks a little too quickly, pointing toward the large white
structure on the north side of the square.

“That's the National Gallery of Art. It's another one of my favorites.”

Harry nods. “Looks familiar. I think I remember going there on a school daytrip when I was
younger. A guide took us from room to room and I remember sitting on the floor with my classmates
while she told us about one of the paintings.”

“Can you remember which one?”

Harry shakes his head. “I can't remember the name. I do remember that the painting was
mostly dark except for the light that surrounded a woman and a blind man. It was coming from a
curved window right beside them.” He's silent for a moment then added quietly, “I thought the
light was beautiful.”

“Sounds like **Anna
and the Blind Tobit by Rembrandt,” I say softly, inexplicably moved.

“Yeah…now I remember…the woman is sitting with her blind husband—they were waiting for
something. And the light meant that God's still watching over us even through hard things…”
Harry's voice trails off and he looks away.

“That's right,” I say quietly, knowing he's trying with difficulty to hide how much that
thought affected him. “How old were you when you saw that painting?”

“Eight or nine.” Harry shrugs, emotions back under control. But still, he turns to gaze back at
the gallery with a look in his eyes that I can't quite read. “Maybe we can go back there some
day. I'd like to see it again.”

“I would too,” I respond and we turn to continue southeast down Northumberland Avenue in
silence. I'm picturing a very young Harry in the museum in my mind and I can't help but
want to wrap my arms around that child with his baggy clothes and kiss the top of his messy
charcoal hair. I shake my head slightly at myself. Silly.

After a bit Harry confesses, “I've been out walking almost every night this summer.”

“That was really dangerous, Harry!” I turn my head to look at him incredulously. “You
could've been atta—”

“Don't forget what you agreed to, Hermione!” Harry says sharply and his gaze is flinty.

“I just…” Harry's glare is enough to make the words die in my throat.

“Look, I couldn't just stay in that house—in that room—all summer long, okay?” His voice
grows quieter but not softer. “I almost went crazy the first few nights by myself with my memories
running through my dreams…I had to do something before I absolutely lost my mind. So one night, I
snuck out. And I walked for hours.”

I keep silent knowing that if I try to speak, I might cry and that's the last thing Harry
needs right now. It's the last thing I need right now, too.

“Walking was the only thing that helped,” Harry went on. “So every night, I waited until the
Dursleys were asleep. I began walking at night and sleeping during the day.”

Since Harry was the one to open this subject, I ask, “Did the Dursleys mind you sleeping all
day?” I also wonder if the Order realized Harry was going on these excursions but I don't dare
voice that question.

He shrugs. “They let me whether they did or not. Guess Moody's little talk with Uncle Vernon
helped me out there.” Harry smiles wryly then his face softens as he glances at me. “Thanks for all
your letters. Really. I'm sorry I didn't answer them but they helped, so don't think
they didn't matter to me…they did.”

We cross Victoria Embankment and walk onto the footbridge that crosses the Thames.

“I'm glad they helped,” I finally respond, feeling the hurt I thought had gone stinging my
eyes again. I don't mean to be selfish but I could've used some help this summer, too.
“Sounds like a lonely summer, though.”

Harry lifts a shoulder and nods. “I got some studying done and I had a lot of time to think. At
first, I couldn't get the visions of that night at the Ministry out of my mind.” He pauses for
a moment as though deciding whether or not to go on then continues. “But I began going back through
our school years one by one starting from that first ride on the Hogwarts Express. I tried to
remember every detail—forced my mind to think about those memories instead.”

We've stopped in the middle of the bridge, leaning against the railing, looking out over the
swiftly moving water. There's a cool breeze sneaking under the cloak and we automatically move
closer into each other's warmth.

“I've been reminded of things I hadn't thought about in years.” An amused smile flits
across his face. “Remember Neville's lost toad on the train our first year?”

I chuckle softly. “Yes, but actually, the thing that I remember most about that day was meeting
you.”

Harry cutely scrunches his nose in surprised disbelief. “Me…why*?*”

“Well, you were *The* *Harry Potter*, after all. I'd read about you in several
books.”

Harry snorts, shaking his head and asks with a smile, “So, did I live up to all the hype?”

“Nope.”

“Oh, really.” Harry raises his eyebrows.

“Well, you certainly weren't what I was expecting…”

“I think I might be offended.” Harry gives a fake pout.

“Oh, good grief,” I laugh lightly punching his arm.

“Ow!” Harry rubs his arm pretending to be in pain.

“See?” I laugh again. “Some hero!”

“Well, what you see is what you get, I guess.” His voice has become strangely serious and I feel
him shift slightly away from me. “Hopefully I'll be able to live up to the hero thing later
on.”

My eyes snap to his at this sudden change in demeanor. “Harry?” I ask, trying to keep eye
contact with him. “What's wrong? Did I say something?”

Harry shakes his head then looks back at the dark water. “I'm fine.”

*`Yeah, right.'* I think as I turn fully toward him. “Don't lie to me. What
happened just then?”

Harry is silent for a bit as though debating with himself then begins, “You know, as I was
reliving the past five years in my mind, I began to realize something.” His head lifts slowly and
he turns to face me. “So many times…I couldn't have gotten along without you. So…thanks.”

I lean into him slightly and nod; fully realizing that he hasn't answered my question. I
know his words should make me feel happy. But they don't. They aren't what I really want to
hear. So…some part of Harry has realized that he needs me. I gaze at the river moving past us.
People need water. Need it for all sorts of things. Would die without it. But do they even think
about it when they don't need it?

I don't want to be needed. I'm tired of being needed. Needed for the right answers in
class, for homework. Needed to help Harry with whatever dangerous situation he's facing. Needed
to fill a role at a Yule Ball. I don't want to be needed…*I want to be wanted.* To be the
desire of someone's—Harry's—heart. I want to fill Harry's mind so that he can't
think of anything else. Not Quidditch, not Sirius, not Voldemort.

“Hermione?” Harry's voice breaks through my thoughts and to my surprise; I feel his arm
around me. The only time he ever initiates anything like this is when my life is imminent
danger.

“You okay?” He asks, his eyes searching mine with concern. Now it's my turn to conceal the
truth. “I'm fine.”

We both stare at each other knowing that neither is being honest. I can tell Harry's still
hiding something—something important. But I'm not going to try and pry it out of him. I can
tell he's wondering what I'm hiding, too. Good.

“I guess we'd better be getting back.” Harry breaks the silence and disappointment seeps
through me as I feel his arm slide from around my waist.

I nod then we turn together and begin the walk back in silence.

>>>>>>>>>>

I can hear commotion around me as I resist breaking through the fog that permeates my sleepy
brain. Oh, my bed is so warm and my pillow so soft but someone is shaking my shoulder.

“Hermione,” I hear Ron's urgent voice. “Wake up! We can't find Harry.”

This information burns through the sleepy haze and I sit bolt upright, nearly knocking heads
with Ron. *“What?”*

Ron's face comes into focus and although I can tell he's dying to ask why I've slept
in my clothes, he answers, “Harry. He's gone. We've looked all through the pub and my
parents and the twins are looking through Diagon Alley right now.”

A memory from last night flashes through my mind and suddenly I have a good idea of where he
might be.

“What time is it?” I ask quickly swinging my legs off my bed trying to locate my shoes with my
feet.

“Just a little before ten…where're you going?” he asks as I stand up and speed across the
room to the door.

“I have an idea*.*” Ron's hot on my heels as I clamor down the steps. As the main room
of the pub comes into view, Remus looks up from the table to see who's causing the noise on the
stairs.

“Hermione thinks she knows where Harry is,” Ron calls from behind me.

Remus' gaze sharpens and he stands to follow me as I head for the door to the street. I turn
sharply back to Ron and him. “Please just let me go. If he's not where I think he is, I'll
come right back.”

Remus shakes his head. “You can't go out there by yourself. I'm coming with you.” He
turns to Ron. “Please go find your parents and tell them that Hermione and I will be back in just a
bit and hopefully with Harry.”

I can tell by Ron's face that he wants to argue that he should come with us but instead
turns and hurries toward the backdoor and the entrance to Diagon Alley.

Remus and I start quickly down Charring Cross. When we get to Trafalgar Square, I turn right and
head for the art gallery. Before I start up the steps, I turn to Remus. “Will you please wait here?
If he's not in there, I'll be right back out, I promise.”

Remus hesitates, not wanting to let me go alone but finally acquiesces and I turn and hurry
through the front doors. I rush through the crowds of tourists sauntering through the gallery on a
Sunday morning, working my way to the back of the building and turn left just before I reach it. My
eyes dart around the area.

There he is. Standing just where I thought he would be. I walk slowly to him and stand by his
side not knowing what to say. He continues to gaze at the painting but I know that he's aware
that I'm there.

After a long moment he says, “Do you believe in God?”

I wasn't expecting anything like this. It takes me awhile, but I finally reply, “Yes,
generally. It's the daily thing I have trouble with.”

Harry nods, seeming to understand my answer.

“You're right,” I say as my eyes follow his gaze. “The light is beautiful.”

“Yeah, but Tobit can't see it.”

“Surely he can feel the warmth of it at least.”

Harry shrugs. “I feel sorry for Anna. I imagine she doesn't have much of a life of her own
taking care of Tobit and all. He needs her a lot more than she needs him.”

*“What?”* I say incredulously and he finally looks at me. “Harry, we all need people. I
don't see it that way at *all*.” I want to weep realizing that he thinks he has nothing to
offer—thinks he's a liability to the ones he cares about because of what's happened in his
past.

I continue, holding his gaze, “I think Anna's glad to be with Tobit, happy that she can
share her life with him. But not because he needs her. I think that her feelings for him are so
much deeper than that and based on something entirely different.”

Harry looks back at the painting and after a long moment, his eyes widen slightly. What happens
next makes me almost lightheaded. First, a look of astonishment builds in his eyes then his gaze
drops momentarily and seems to focus on the wall as though he's lost in thought. I see his
chest begin to rise and fall just a bit faster as his eyes lift back to the painting like he wants
to make sure that what he saw was still there. Then he slowly turns to me and suddenly I'm
having just a bit of trouble breathing properly. I've waited for this for so long and now that
it's so close…

I make a split-second decision. For better or for worse, I want to *know*. “Remember last
night when I said, that you weren't what I was expecting when I first met you on the train?” I
say a little breathlessly.

Harry nods mutely, looking unsure of where I'm going with this.

“Well, you've become so much more…so much better than what I expected.”

His lovely green eyes are fixed on mine and I hear him say softly, “So have you.”

I smile shyly and a lop-sided grin slowly grows on his face in response. After a bit, the
intensity becomes too much and I break the silence.

“We need to go. Remus is outside waiting for us and we need to get to King's Cross
soon.”

Harry seems to come to his senses and we rush outside to find Remus pacing on the sidewalk in
front of the stairs. When he sees us, a huge look of relief spreads across his face and he bounds
forward as a “Thank God!” bursts from him.

“Harry, don't do that again.” Remus adds very seriously, grasping Harry's shoulder.

Harry shakes his head contritely. “I won't. I'm sorry…I didn't mean to worry
anyone.”

“I'm just glad you're all right. No harm done, then.” Remus gives Harry's shoulder a
last squeeze then turns and begins to lead us back up the street to The Leaky Cauldron. He walks
just a few paces ahead of us as though somehow aware that something is different between Harry and
me.

A tingle runs up my arm as Harry's fingers brush mine while we walk. The next time our hands
brush, two of his fingers tangle into mine, and stay. I turn to him, seeing something wonderfully
new in his eyes as he looks back at me, and I take all of his hand into mine.

Website with Painting, *Anna and the Blind Tobit* by Rembrandt


http://www.nationalgallery.org.uk/cgi-bin/WebObjects.dll/CollectionPublisher.woa/wa/largeImage?workNumber=NG4189

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