Disclaimer: Everything you recognize belongs to JK Rowling.
Author's Notes: This is for Anne U. for reading this over, thephotoman for the candy, and Lissanne, who never fails to inspire.
Complicated Chapter Two What the Heart Remembers
The man had black hair, wind-ruffled, and he was wearing dark colors. From behind, he looked like him.
Hermione's breath caught in her throat against her will, even as her conscious mind knew that it wasn't him. It couldn't be him. It wasn't his stance, his way of walking. It just wasn't him.
She forcibly calmed her breathing down. If only she could keep her heart from aching as well.
How long had it been now? One year, 7 months, 1 week and 4 days. 19 months, 1 week and 4 days. 83 weeks and 4 days. 585 days…
She wasn't counting.
Or she was, just keeping track of how long it had been, the longest she had ever gone without seeing him in all the years she'd known him.
Oh she missed him so much. Every day, even after he'd been gone for so long, she missed him, expected to see him, wanted to talk to him.
Whenever something funny happened, something interesting, she always thought first, I must tell Harry, and then would come the realization. Even now, she could picture his face in her mind, whenever she closed her eyes, hear his voice in her ears…
She knew she always would remember.
There were some things that a girl never forgets. She would never forget the way he looked when he was flying, the look of freedom on his face. She would never forget his shy grin. She would never forget how his eyes changed color to reflect his moods, from the purest brightest emerald-green, to dark pine-green, to light green when he was happy. She would never forget watching him, looking so incredibly small, against the terrifying size of the Hungarian Horntail, her heart in her throat. She would never forget the sight of him, clutching Cedric Diggory's corpse in one hand and the Tri-wizard Tournament Cup in the other, that dead, bleak look in his eyes. She would never forget his pain during 5th year, his anger that had hurt her so much even though she knew it wasn't directed at her. She would never forget the way he'd looked after the final battle, not just the physical injuries but the look in his eyes that told her that the injuries he'd received were more on his mind and heart than on his body.
And she would never forget waking up one morning to find him gone, with only a short note.
Dear Hermione and Ron,
I'm leaving. I have to go. Don't know when I'll be back. Don't worry about me and don't try to find me.
Take care.
Harry
It had hurt that the letter had been addressed to Ron as well, that he hadn't left any other more personal message for her… Even more than it had hurt that he had even felt it necessary to leave so abruptly.
She wondered, yet again, where Harry was, what he was doing, thinking… She worried about him. After spending nearly half her life worrying about Harry, it was a hard habit to break, she realized. And now she couldn't even see him.
She believed that wherever he was, he was fine. She believed it in part because she had to. She hated the idea that if anything ever did happen to him she wouldn't be able to help him because she wouldn't know about it. She was quite irrationally certain that she would know if something happened to Harry. Somehow, deep inside her, in a way that completely defied any rational thought, she believed that she would know it if Harry was ever in serious trouble, danger, or Merlin forbid, killed.
But then her feelings for Harry had always defied rationality. She who prided herself on her intelligence, her reason, and her logic, had always had one very big weakness, namely her best friend, the Boy Who Lived, Harry Potter. There was no explaining it away; she had tried. It was simply the way it was. The sun rose in the east and set in the west. Voldemort had been evil. Draco Malfoy would always retain a little Malfoy arrogance, no matter what Ginny saw in him. And she would always worry and care about Harry Potter.
She was distracted all day with thoughts of him.
She was usually much better. She had accustomed herself to his absence, was perfectly capable of going for hours at a time without even thinking of him, when she lost herself in her work.
It was that man, that man that had reminded her of him with his messy black hair.
She decided against apparating to her flat as she usually did, reflecting that maybe the noise and bustle of the Tube would do her good.
She supposed she should have known that a day that had begun and continued to be littered with things to remind her of Harry would continue its current trend long after work had ended.
There was a new advertisement that had a lightning bolt on it, making her think of the famous scar, that Harry had usually, ineffectually, tried to conceal with his hair. One of the models on an advertisement had green eyes. Harry's were much greener, she reflected. Oh, she missed Harry's eyes.
She sighed as she unlocked and entered her empty flat.
For the first month or so after Harry had left, she had never returned to her flat without a small hope that Harry might have returned while she was gone and she would find him sitting on the couch, with his familiar grin, and he would say, "Hello, Hermione, I'm back. Did you miss me?"
She supposed she had known even then that it was a nonsensical hope, had given up after a while. Now, it was only occasionally that she wondered when Harry would return.
But a person can get accustomed to just about anything, even being hanged, as the old Irishman once said, she thought with a feeble attempt at humor.
She busied herself with work after her dinner, looking through some of her notes about her current patients at St. Mungo's, and then reading some of the latest journals on antidotes to poisons. But she was glad when she heard a knock at the door.
"Ron! This is a surprise." She stepped back, allowing Ron to come in, knowing instantly that he had something to tell her. There was an air of suppressed excitement and joy about him.
He managed to wait until they were seated, each with a bottle of butterbeer, before telling her his news.
She gave him a look that said, "Well, what is it?" as they sat, Ron smiling a little to himself.
"I'm engaged to Luna," he said quickly, watching her carefully for her reaction.
She blinked before standing up to throw her arms around his neck and hug him. "Oh Ron! I'm so happy for you! That's wonderful! When did you ask?"
Ron hugged her back, kissing the top of her head in brotherly fashion, before grinning at her. "Today at lunch, actually. I'd been thinking about it for a while now, but was never really sure, until today, we were having lunch together and it just seemed like the right time."
Hermione grinned happily at him, her melancholy mood slipping away. "Congratulations. I must owl Luna and congratulate her as well. Have you told your parents? And Ginny? What did they say?"
"Yes to both. Mum and Dad were thrilled, the twins said they knew it was going to happen all along and that they were going to make t-shirts saying: 'It's about bloody time'. Ginny nearly strangled me when she heard the news, she was so excited. You know how she gets." Ron winked at her, pretending to shake his head over his sister's exuberance.
She laughed. "That does sound like Fred and George."
They smiled at each other in comfortable silence for a little while.
Ron was the first to speak, seriously now, his voice low. "I wish Harry were here. He would be happy, don't you think?"
Something was tickling at the back of her mind, a strange awareness that someone might be watching her and Ron. But she knew that was ridiculous… It was only Ron's mention of Harry along with all her thoughts about Harry this particular day that had her feeling that odd sort of awareness she'd always had whenever Harry was around… It had to be. Harry was miles away, Merlin only knew where. She resisted the urge to glance over her shoulder and smiled instead, reassuringly, at Ron. "Yes, he'd be happy. He always liked Luna, remember? And defended her even when you thought she was Loony Luna back in 5th and 6th year? He'd probably say it's about bloody time, too."
Ron looked at her for a moment. "Do you ever think about when he'll come back?" he asked quietly. They had never really talked about Harry's return, both uncomfortable, for some reason, about mentioning it.
She sighed. "All the time. It was strange; I thought about him all day today. Somehow everything I saw reminded me of him in some way; I saw guys who had messy black hair… I usually don't think about him that much, these days." She looked at Ron who was toying with his bottle with an introspective expression on his face. "I'm being silly, I suppose."
"No, you're not," was all he said. "I wish we knew why he left," he began abruptly.
She sighed and closed her eyes briefly. "We've talked about this, Ron. We don't know exactly what happened or how Harry killed Voldemort. We only know that Harry refused to talk about it, which is never a good sign. And I think we can safely guess that part of it, at least, was just Harry wanting to get away and be alone. You remember the parties, the celebrations being held in his honor. And you know how much Harry would have hated it."
"Yeah, I know," Ron replied briefly, looking momentarily sheepish. He himself had rather enjoyed the attention he'd received, but he knew Harry was different, understood that now, what he hadn't understood when he was 14.
"He's been gone for more than a year now, Hermione… How much longer until he comes back?" Ron paused, before adding with a grin, "I'd kind of want to have a best man at my wedding, that I won't have to worry about turning me into a big canary or something for the ceremony."
She laughed, reaching over to squeeze his hand. "He'll come back. Don't worry."
She only wished she could be as certain as she sounded.
"Now, come on, you interrupted my work. A welcome interruption, of course, but still, I need to get more finished tonight," she said, getting up and dragging him up with her.
Ron grinned teasingly down at her. "Spoilsport. Mione, Mione, when will you stop being such a bore?"
She laughed at the ongoing joke between them. "Ron, Ron, when will you stop being such a clown?"
He shrugged, looking comically repentant. "I'm sorry but never. It's just too much fun."
Hermione laughed up at him before giving him another hug. "Congratulations, again, Ron. I really am happy for you, you know."
He returned the embrace. "Yeah, I know. Love you, Mione," before adding in typical Ron-fashion, "even if you are a spoilsport."
"Love you too, Ron. Now, goodbye." Hermione smiled at her best friend of so many years before shutting the door behind him. Dear Ron, he would never change…
But she sighed through her smile. Ron had Luna now. They would always be best friends, she knew, but things would change. And she was still alone…
"Harry, where are you? Come back to us, to me…" she said softly.