Friends are Friends, Lovers are Lovers by ephemere

Rating: G
Genres: Angst, Romance
Relationships: Harry & Hermione
Book: Harry & Hermione, Books 1 - 6
Published: 27/07/2005
Last Updated: 01/08/2005
Status: Completed

Hermione left the wizarding world to run away from the horrors of falling in love with your best
friend. Do memories stay memories? Or can they be real?




1. Can't Run From Memories
--------------------------



The soft pitter-patter of raindrops gently crashing on the roof echoed throughout the unassuming
muggle flat. The pipes squeaked as Hermione Granger shut the water off and reached for her fluffy
towel.

*“Is this your towel? It's so rough!”*

Hermione fingered the soft terrycloth material, recalling how she had charmed it to retain its
softness after repeated laundering.

*“You should get a softer towel like mine. It's the only way to go.”*

Turning to her reflection, she swiped a stray water droplet from her eyebrow. She shook her wet
hair before carrying her towel-wrapped self to her bedroom. Her fingers lightly danced over the
garments hanging in the closet; they hovered momentarily over a blue sweater before the dove for
the adjacent plum turtleneck.

*“You know, I shouldn't be surprised that your closet is color-coded. Anything else would
just go against the fiber of your being. I suppose it'd be the same as me saying I found
quidditch boring.”*

Hermione had just freed her hair from the confines of the turtleneck when she heard noises from
the fireplace.

“Hermione! Can you hear me? Ron said he set everything up with the Ministry but I -” Ginny cut
herself short when she saw her ex-flat mate appear in the grate. “Oh, good, it works. Ron told me
he connected you to the floo network, but I wasn't sure if he actually knew what he was doing.
It is Ron, after all,” she added with an impish grin. “Then again, you of all people should know
how he can be.”

*“Harry, I've told you already. I can't live in the wizarding world right now. I just
need to be away from the wreckage of our teenage lives.”*

*“But Hermione, it's been years since Voldemort fell! Why are you leaving now of all
times?”*

*“Just trust me on this. I need the space.”*

*“If you must leave, at least tell Ron to hook you up with the floo network.* *I'll
need to talk to you somehow.”*

“I of all people *should* know how Ron can be. And I do, only too well, Ginny?” Hermione
smiled indulgingly at her friend. She shifted her position on her knees before continuing. “How are
you? It's been some time since I've heard from you. And I love what you've done with
your hair.”

Ginny smiled and ran her hands through her newly cropped hair. She opened her mouth to speak,
but was interrupted by an indiscernible noise behind her. Her brow creased with a frown before she
bent and picked up the smoky gray cat calling her attention.

“Terribly sorry about the distance, Hermione darling.” Ginny stroked her cat behind the ears as
she spoke. “Draco and I have just been so caught up, what with moving into our new place, and the
baby. I've barely had time to make myself an occasional spot of tea.”

*The blustering wind was picking up autumn leaves with such zeal that Harry and Hermione had
to cover their faces to prevent getting pelted with dried foliage.*

*“Harry, we really don't have to be doing this. We could just go inside, you
know.”*

*“Wouldn't dream of it. We said we'd give Crookshanks a proper sendoff, and that is
exactly what we'll do.” He bent down to the makeshift grave, and laid a single white feather
across it. “Here lies Crookshanks, loyal pet and companion to Hermione Granger. He had wisdom
beyond his years, refusing to trust elusive family pets. He will always bring a smile to my face.
Especially when I remember how he clawed Malfoy's leg shortly after Ginny left me at the
alt**a**r for the sodding git.”* *Harry's grin took the venom out of his
words.*

*“Harry!” Hermione squealed, finally unable to hold in her laughter. “This is the most
ridiculous eulogy I've ever heard!* *But tha**nk you for the lovely ceremony, Harry
Potter. Let's go in and get some cocoa.”*

“No worries. I'm sure you have loads on your plate,” Hermione responded. “We'll get
around to meeting up soon enough.” She was trying desperately to hide how distracted she felt.

“Yes, well that's actually why I'm here,” continued Ginny with a shrewd look in her eye.
“Draco and I are having a house-warming Friday after next. You will come, won't you?”

“Yes, of course I will. I'll make a note on my calendar.”

*“You know,” Harry was staring at a calendar chockfull of markings in various colors, “when
most people say, `I'll make a note on my calendar,' it's usually just figurative. Is it
really necessary for you to write on here that you moved in today? I hardly think you'll be
forgetting that anytime soon.”*

“Hermione, you're doing it again.” Ginny's accusatory tone made the older girl's
head shoot up at a surprising speed. “Have you even heard one word of what I've said?”

“Why did you two split up?” Hermione's abrupt change of subject caught Ginny off guard. It
wasn't as though she hadn't asked the question before, or that Ginny hadn't expected
the non-sequitor. Ginny just missed the girl who had shared most of her childhood memories .

“Everything was crazy during your sixth and seventh years, you know that, Hermione. We were all
looking for something to keep us sane. Harry and I just seemed to fit at the time. It was an itch
we had to scratch.” Ginny repeated the words she had told Hermione countless times. The lines were
coming like second nature to her. “We were young, we didn't know any better, and no one was
there to tell us that marriage isn't always the next logical step. I think we both knew all
along that we wouldn't be able to go through with it, though. And the rest is history.”

“You were in love with Malfoy.”

Ginny stilled her petting motion and regarded her friend carefully. She breathed deeply and
decided to ignore the subtle accusation in Hermione's voice.

“We had both left each other long before I told Harry I couldn't marry him.” There was a
steely edge to Ginny's tone. “Yes, I fell in love with Draco, and Harry...well let's just
say he was equally relieved.”

“Oh, Ginny, I'm so sorry!” Hermione blushed as she went on, “I didn't mean to imply
anything. I know what happened between you two wasn't anyone's fault. And of course
everyone's happier now. It's just that sometimes, I - ” she trailed off, finding a deep
interest in the shag of her carpet.

“It's all right, Hermione, I know you didn't mean anything by it. Don't you think
that maybe you should just come back?” Ginny continued over Hermione's impatient sigh. “I know
we've talked ourselves blue about this. But you obviously can't just run away from him.
It's clearly not working. I just miss you, is all.”

“I miss you too, Ginny. I'll see you soon though.” Hermione thought she could hear Ginny
mumble something that sounded suspiciously like `that's not what I meant.' “Well I've
got to run, but good luck with the new place. Send my love to baby Isabelle.”

*“**Isabelle Narcissa Malfoy. That's what Ginny said the new baby's going to be
named. I was holding out for Harrietta. Better luck next time, I* *suppose.”*

The kitchen pulsated with the pungent aroma of onions in time with the rhythmic *thunk
thunk* of the knife hitting the chopping board. Nearby, a bowlful of potatoes were peeling
themselves while water boiled away in a pot.

*“Are you sure you should be putting onions in that gravy? You know Harry hates them.”*

*“Yeah Ron, but* *he'll eat them the way I make them. As long as he doesn't see
them, he's fine.”*

Hermione leaned over the stove, and got a face full of steam. She slowly stirred her soup and
noticed how the onions somehow seemed invisible to the unassuming eye. Tapping her wooden spoon
free of the liquid, she laid it next to the pot.

“Get a grip, Hermione,” she muttered to herself. “Friends are friends. Lovers are lovers.” Just
as she reached her hands up to rub her own temples, there was a distinct thumping at the door.
Opening the door revealed a soggy mess of a man hiding under his cloak and clutching his broom for
support.

“Harry?? Come in, you'll freeze!” Hermione dragged him in by the arm and tried to settle him
by the fire, but he refused to sit. Staring up into his face, Hermione was taken aback by what she
saw reflected in the green of his eyes. There was some kind of determination, as though he had come
to a decision after hours of internal debate. This wasn't unusual though, as it was Harry
Potter, The Boy Who Lived and then some. What caught Hermione's attention was the nervousness
that extended beyond his typical good-natured shyness. There was something strange and new about
his uneasiness that set all of her nerves on fire. After spending fourteen years of her life being
best friend to this boy, that he could still show her a side she was unfamiliar with frightened her
beyond her wildest dreams.

“Hermione, I'm going to say something to you, and I don't want you to say anything until
I'm done.” Harry placed his hands on Hermione's shoulders and drew himself up before going
on, “Since the first time I boarded that train at King's Cross station fourteen years ago,
there hasn't been a day of my life that hasn't included you. You've been everything to
me, from a shoulder to lean on, to someone who knew how to laugh with me. You've devoted such a
large part of your life to protecting me and looking out for me, even when I've been an
extraordinary prat.

“You let me hold your hand and reassure you when Ron married Luna, and you held mine when my
marriage never happened. Hermione, you're the first person I think of in the morning and the
only person that haunts my dreams so regularly. I'm tired of pretending that friends are just
friends. I'm tired of denying everything you make me feel. Hermione Granger, I'm in love
with you and have been for longer than I can bother to remember.” Harry's chest was heaving
with the force of exploding after years of holding back. His hands began making gentle massaging
motions on her shoulders. “Don't make me deny it anymore.”

“Harry,” she rasped, suddenly finding her voice had run away from her, “what if it - that is,
how can I be -” Hermione scrubbed her face with her palms, idly wondering at his uncanny ability to
render her speechless for the first time in her life. “How are you so sure that you l-l- that this
is how you feel? Maybe you're just feeling lonely, and we're the only ones of our friends
not paired off . . .” she trailed off when she felt his fingers lightly dancing across her chin.
Harry's eyes suddenly became fixated on the slight tremble of her lower lip.

“So much of my life,” his voice dropped to a hoarse whisper, “has been shaped by Voldemort and
everything he had done and everything I didn't want him to do. I spent so much time learning
and growing to hate him with a burning passion. It got to a point where I hated him so much that I
didn't know if I had room left to love anyone. I panicked, and took Ginny into my heart as a
last ditch attempt to save myself. But it wasn't real. For either of us. I left her in my heart
long before she left me at the altar. Hermione, look at me.” She reluctantly raised her eyes to his
and he rested his forehead against hers. The bushy bangs across her brow brushed against the
soaking wet mess of hair hanging in his eyes. “This is real. Always has been.” Water was dripping
down his raven locks and trailing down her cheekbones, mocking the tracks her tears had fallen
countless times while thinking of the boy she loved.

Harry slid both his hands to rest along the curve of either side of her neck. His fingertips
gently brushed the hairs at the back of her neck. Her breath hitched, whether from the shock of his
cold hands on her neck, or from the shock of that look in his eyes, she would never know. His face
leaned closer to hers and he nudged the side of her nose with his. His thumbs came up under her
chin to angle her face towards his. By the time Harry's lips descended on hers, Hermione had
lidded her eyes shut and gripped his forearms for balance.

The feel of pressure on her lips set a riot of emotions loose inside Hermione. Her body was
raked with a first sob when she felt him press closer to her, as though calling to her. She felt
infinitely joined to him by this one simple connection; a second sob. Harry moved his lips over
hers and she realized he was finally claiming the ownership over her that she had unknowingly given
him ages ago; a third and fourth sob. Hermione's body was shaking uncontrollably when Harry
pulled away to turn his concerned eyes to her. She leaned her head on his chest and let the real
tears spill in earnest down his sodden robes.

Harry wrapped his arms around her, pulling her flush against his body. The wetness from the rain
washed over her body. A new realization hit her like a wave and she was flooded with a new emotion
so long forgotten it had almost become foreign. This was real happiness. Not the kind of euphoria
following an exceptionally good dream just before the land of wake called permanently. This was
real.

“Always will be,” Harry whispered into her hair.

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