Never Yours

A/N: So, in all honesty, I can't begin to tell you how sorry I really am. I know it's been a week, but I have good reason. I've mentioned before about my crumby computer and all of the problems it's been giving me; well, I've finally gotten a new labtop. For about the first half of the week I basically was devoid of a computer. And the second half was just plainly hectic. So, please, forgive me! Here is chapter 10 the second last chapter, and hopefully chapter 11, the final one, will be out Monday or Tuesday night. Hopefully. Reviews help encourage, of course, so review afterwards. Thanks! Oh, and by the way, special thanks goes to Lady_C for the recommendation! Thank you!

& - 10

With the sleeve of her arm, Hermione wiped away the tears sliding down her cheeks. She sniffled quietly as she urged herself to calm down.

Everything could be fixed; a few standard repair charms and her living room would go back to as it always was. But still, it wasn't that, it wasn't the things they had destroyed or ruined, it was the fact that they had done it. That they hated her so much they broke into her home, and vandalized her things.

Knowing that there were people out there that hated you with everything they had, and that they'd always hate you no matter what `till the point of wanting to actually physically hurt you was a scary feeling indeed.

Hermione stood up from where she knelt on her carpet, her legs slightly wobbly at first, and she held up her wand, walking slowly to the edge of her hallway; she wasn't sure if she dared to check her bedroom and bathroom, or if she should just leave.

She hated being so needy and so weak; she didn't like the seemingly endless vulnerability that was planted inside of her. She didn't want to need anyone but herself, the way it should've be.

“I'm being silly,” she decided, letting out a breath to relax her nerves. “No one is here. I'm alone, as sad as that is, I'm by myself. They're gone; they're probably at some pub having a drink and a good laugh about their sinister ways right now.”

She walked down the narrow hallway and turned into her bedroom, then into her bathroom.

Once standing in front of the mirror she splashed water onto her face, again letting out deep, deep breaths to calm down. She never could relax after crying; it always made her jittery and even more uneasy than before she began.

Hermione dried her face with one of her little face towels, giving her reflection another good look before turning and leaving the bathroom.

Then, just as she reentered the living room, she saw it.

The envelope with her surname scribbled on the front side up. She froze in the entrance of the living room and stared at it for a moment, the spark of curiosity alight in her eyes.

Slowly she walked over and stopped so that the letter lay right in front of her feet.

She wasn't sure if she wanted to know what was inside of the mysterious envelope. Perhaps she was better off not knowing…

But she couldn't resist. She couldn't risk the possibility that there wasn't anything important in that envelope; what if there was? What if later on she'd come to regret not reading it?

She reached out to take it into her hands, but then froze halfway. A thought occurred to her.

Hermione stood up straight again and aimed her wand at the envelope.

It could very well be a trap.

“Porta,” she said quietly, her words the only noise in her silent flat.

She was right.

The envelope glowed reddish orange, flopping and trembling pathetically before the glow was gone and it lay still as a crumbled, old envelope.

It was a Portkey.

Hermione released a sigh, putting a shaky hand to her forehead as relief took the place of her curiosity.

She dropped down into the armchair nearby, deciding maybe she shouldn't be alone; she was too edgy to be alone, and now, just when she had begun to feel safe again…

…But she didn't want to be a bother.

She had never told Ron about what had happened (she wasn't sure why she hadn't), and she and Ginny weren't on speaking terms any longer. That left Harry, and he was even less of an option than Ron and Ginny were.

She wanted to prove she was moving on; how could she possibly prove this if she went to cry on his shoulder about what had happened to her?

There seemed to be no solution, but to be brave and stay where she was.

“Everything is all right,” she whispered. “I better clean up first before going to bed.”

She leaned forth, taking the torn novel she had been reading into her hands since it was on the carpet right next to her feet. She'd repair her precious book she had been in the midst of reading with a simple charm, and then fix the rest.

Sadly, she never got a chance to, not then.

As soon as her hands wrapped around the book, which had only been a mere two feet away from the envelope disguised as a Portkey, the book began to glow a green, shaking in her hands, and before Hermione knew quite what was happening she was spinning through a whirlwind of many colors and sounds, her stomach churning and churning until she landed with a thump! somewhere in the dark.

Hermione's eyes opened and she took a good look around, discovering with the utmost regret that she was on the ground of some grimy alleyway in Knockturn.

No…no. This can't be happening. Not again. The book couldn't have been…

Her initial panicked feelings were interrupted by a loud cackle that filled the air of the dark night.

She looked over through the shadows to notice someone was approaching. Leaning against the wet, brick wall she pointed her wand straight at the figure. She was aware that she was covered in grime from falling on the ground of that alley, and she was all too aware of her fearful heart beating against her chest; and yet this time she wasn't going to let her fear consume her like the last time. She couldn't afford to.

“Stupefy!” she screamed without warning, sending that jolt of light headed straight for the mysterious figure. It was the first jinx that came to mind.

“Protego!” replied his gruff voice and the spell was blocked; she was aware of him walking closer still.

She backed even further into the wall, so much that the edges of the bricks were actually cutting into her spine.

“What's the point of this?” she asked, in hopes of keeping him talking as a distraction. “Do you really hate me that much because I'm a Muggleborn?”

More steps towards her. Now there was less than a foot separating them. She could feel her palms go sweaty as she urged her wand hand not to shake.

“Does it hurt your worthless feelings that I do? That we all do?” he sneered harshly. “But now, love, it's personal. Did you, by any chance, know the Law Enforcement arrested my nephew this evening?”

She took in a breath.

“N-No,” she admitted, clearing her throat. “But - But if you leave me be I'll - I'll go to Bones first thing in the morning, and I'll…tell her I was mistaken…I'll tell her Theodore Nott had nothing to do with-”

His laughter interrupted her words.

“That's the problem with you Mudbloods,” he said with amusement, “You're all a bunch of pathetic beggars.”

She stood up straighter; her pride wounded. She wasn't going to beg him.

“Are we alone?” she asked instead. She was straining her ears for any footsteps, but she couldn't hear anything but his voice and her voice, and the beats of her heart. Then again she wasn't sure; it was so terribly dark here any wizards or witches could be hiding in the shadows of this place.

“You're not getting away this time, love,” he said, his yellow teeth visible through the dark. “You're going to die the way every Mudblood should, crying and begging.”

He grabbed her left arm, pulling her with force to him.

“Petrificus Totalus!” she shrieked suddenly without warning, and as he fell forward rigid as a board she hurried out of the way so not to be trapped beneath this wizard thrice her size. She stumbled slightly in her haste, a clumsy stumble worthy of Neville, her wand falling from her hand, and she wondered not for the first time if she had the worst luck in the word.

She knelt down and began feeling around in the darkness for it. Hermione accidentally grabbed hold of the man's fat wrist, and she was struck by an idea. She grabbed his wand from his limp hand, and stood up, directing it all around her.

“What's going on over there?”

She looked over her shoulder to spot an old man with a grizzly beard poking his head out of the nearby pub. He was squinting his eyes as he tried with his might to see into the alleyway.

“What have you done to ole Scottie?”

More people appeared in the doorway of the pub, the little light from inside pouring out into the alley.

Hermione blinked at so much sudden light being thrown her way, and turned around with the man's wand in her hand.

“Acio wand!” she called, aware that the people were entering the alleyway, most of them with wands drawn.

Her wand flew up from the ground and into her left hand.

“It's that Mudblood!”

It was that familiar voice of the tall, thin witch from last time.

Hermione dropped his wand as she closed her eyes and focused with every particle of her being on Apparating; the last thing she needed was to panic again and be unable to concentrate; something she had done on a few dangerous occasions. She, as bright and clever as she was, usually let her momentary terror get the best of her.

At this instance, however, Hermione didn't allow it to.

With a pop she was gone from the alley, leaving the fifteen or so tipsy wizards staring at nothing but brick wall.

&

She appeared at the place she felt she needed to be most.

She appeared right outside of Harry's apartment door.

As soon as it dawned upon her that she really had escaped, that she was now completely safe she couldn't stifle the small cry that left her. She was shaken and trembling as she brought her fist to the door and knocked in a way that was much more urgent than ever before.

She waited but Harry never answered.

Hermione knocked again and again she waited, and yet again Harry never answered.

What was going on? Surely if Harry was there he'd answer right away at hearing the sound of her frantic knocks.

“Harry!” she called through the door. “A-Are you there?”

No answer.

She sighed.

Maybe popping inside his apartment for a moment couldn't hurt. Perhaps he's asleep. Or maybe he's not home at all…maybe he's out with Ginny…but - but they broke up, didn't they? But then, they could have just as easily gotten back together…

She popped out of the hallway and into the living room of his flat, frightened by the total darkness of his home.

“Harry!?” she called again, putting her arms around herself; there was a slight draft coming in through a nearby window.

That was odd; Harry never left his windows open when he was gone, and clearly he wasn't home now.

Hermione sighed with disappointment and with reluctance she Disapparated from his flat and to her own.

&

In a blink of an eye Hermione appeared just by her bed in her bedroom.

She wanted sleep; her eyes were aching with tiredness and so was the rest of her body, for that matter.

“Who's there?”

Hermione stopped her thoughts and looked over at the doorway. There someone stood.

“What? I…” She sounded flustered. She had no idea what was going on.

That voice didn't belong to anyone she knew…

“Drop your wand and don't move,” the witch said. She had her wand pointed.

Two other wizards brushed past her and entered the bedroom, both stopping short.

“Hermione Granger?” one of them said with uncertainty.

They were Aurors.

Hermione sighed in relief and nodded. For a few seconds she had thought the wizards from Knockturn had followed her.

“Yes, I'm…Hermione Granger,” she replied.

“HERMIONE!?”

And there was someone else that stopped slightly in the doorway before rushing towards her so quickly it was two big steps, and next thing she knew she was wrapped so tightly in the arms of Harry Potter it took her a moment to realize what was happening.

“Harry,” she whispered, hugging him in return.

She had never been hugged this tightly before; it was like Harry was making sure she wouldn't somehow disappear into thin air. He was squeezing her like a child would squeeze shut their palm to trap a puddle of water inside, though, that never did work. But Hermione wasn't water; Harry continued to hold her with such relief Hermione felt that warm, welcoming feeling of being appreciated enter her.

“H-Hermione, what happened to you?” he asked, pulling away slightly to look in her eyes, his hand coming up to cup her cheek. The side of her face was slightly dirty from landing on the alley floor due to that Portkey. Harry himself looked hysterical with worry. “I came over to your flat and - and I found it all a mess with all the furniture out of place and the paintings off the wall, and your books - they were torn and shredded, and…you weren't there…you weren't here…I didn't…I thought-”

“Harry,” she interrupted quietly. “It's okay. I-I'm fine now.”

“What happened? Did they kidnap you?” Anger seemed to rise up inside of him, replacing the worry. “I'll kill them, Hermione…I don't care about letting the Law Enforcement deal with it…I have to make sure this time they never come after you again.”

“No! Harry, stop talking like that,” she said. She was aware of the movement in the background; the Ministry officials were repairing her belongings and were going to question her about what exactly had happened.

“Hermione, look at you…d-did they hurt you?” He pushed some stray strands of hair that had fallen into her eyes away, and said, “When I got here…I thought…I can't put it into words, but I've never been more scared in my life. I thought…I'd lose you for real this time, and after the way things ended at Diagon earlier…”

“I know. It's okay. I should've come right to your flat when I got home…I just didn't want to depend on you anymore.”

“Hermione, part of being independent is knowing when you shouldn't be,” Harry told her. “When you're in trouble you should know whatever bad things are going on between us doesn't matter.”

She nodded, feeling foolish yet grateful at the same time.

Harry pulled her closer to him once more, holding her tight again, his fingers combing through her coiled brown locks. He knew he had to tell her something. It was time he did.

“When I got here and thought you were gone I hated myself for never telling you how much you mean to me,” he said so very quietly it was nearing a whisper. Hermione looked up from the crook of his neck and stared up into his intensely green eyes. “And you mean so much to me. I know - I know I've never really told you, not in all of the years we've known each other, but I just…I can never get the words out. I've wanted to tell you before…the night I first kissed you, the night I faced Voldemort for the last time…I wanted to; I wasn't sure I'd ever see you again, but I did…and for the past two years I've taken that for granted, that I'll always be here and that you'll always be here, but then tonight…Hermione, I - I love you.”

Hermione didn't know when, but somehow tears had come to her eyes, and now she was completely speechless.

Never before had Harry Potter uttered the sentence, “I love you,” to another soul, not even Ginny.

That was simply because Hermione Granger owned his heart, she always had…since even the days of first year. Deep down in the depths of his soul, Hermione had owned it then and all along.

&

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