Author's Note: The events of this story take place four years after the end of "My Sacrifice". Harry remembers the dark days of his grief and we find out more about Simon Maxwell---who he is and what he did. You also find out who Julie Maxwell is…
I apologize for leaving things a little unclear at the end of My Sacrifice. I hope this clears things up for you guys. The title of this story is inspired by the song by Sarah Evans "No Place That Far"
Chapter One
It's So Hard to Say Goodbye to Yesterday
"And I'll take with me the memories
To bring my sunshine after the rain
It's so hard to say goodbye to yesterday"'
(Boys II Men, It's So Hard to Say Goodbye to Yesterday")
To say that Simon Maxwell was afraid would be a gross understatement. He was always afraid that something would happen that would cause her to remember.
Yet, it had been four years. Four years in which she hadn't recalled anything on her own. Four years in which she'd been fed false memories and told that they were her own.
She didn't remember that her real name was Hermione Elizabeth Granger. As far as she knew, she didn't know anyone named Harry Potter or Ron Weasley. She hadn't attended Hogwarts School of Witchcraft & Wizardry; much less no that such a place existed. To her, witches and wizards were make-believe characters in stories or movies. She was totally unaware that across the ocean, there were people who mourned her "death". She didn't know who she really was.
Simon remembered, though. Simon knew it all. He knew how at the bidding of Lord Voldemort, he'd been given the task of taking Hermione Granger away from Harry Potter. Simon had asked why he didn't just perform "Avada Kedavra" on her if the goal had been to hurt Harry Potter. Voldemort said that in the event of his death, he wanted to make sure that Harry Potter suffered. He wanted any victory of Harry Potter's to be a hollow one. At Harry's greatest triumph, Voldemort had said, he will experience his greatest heartbreak. It had all been part of Voldemort's big plan; his ultimate revenge.
Simon went along with it, of course. He had taken an oath, after all. His loyalty was to Voldemort. He'd performed the memory modification charm on her himself. He'd secured the random girl on the street that they'd given the glamour to so she'd appear to be Hermione Granger. He'd then whisked the real Hermione off clandestinely to America.
So, Hermione Granger was given the new name of Julie Maxwell. She had woken up in an Asheville, North Carolina, hospital room, thinking she'd been the victim of an auto accident. Simon had told her and the hospital staff that he and his "daughter" had moved here from London, following the death of Simon's wife and Julie's mother. They'd wanted to start their life anew, but as Simon told the nurses, Julie was taking the move quite hard. She'd decided to take his car without his knowledge and the paramedics had found her slumped over the steering wheel after her car had hit a tree. She didn't know that Simon had transfigured his vehicle to look like it had just been in a crash.
He'd begun playing the dutiful, caring father that week that she was in the hospital. She'd woken up without a clue as to who she was or how she got there. It had been Simon's job to help fill in the blanks. She'd taken him at his word and had come to love Simon as her father, though she honestly had no memories of her own to substantiate this.
Simon had to produce fake documents and photos to prove to her that he was who he said she was. This had helped convince her that Simon was telling the truth.
So, she'd started her new life as Julie Maxwell. She finished up high school in Asheville. Soon after, she'd been accepted at the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill where she was studying to be an elementary school teacher. She worked as a waitress at one of the local bar and grilles there. For all intents and purposes, she was living a happy life. She had no idea that her "death" had caused such pain and heartache for the ones she'd left behind.
When she'd announced her college plans, he'd been somewhat reluctant to let her go. He didn't see how he'd be able to keep tabs on her when she was two-hundred miles away, but he had given in when he's seen how excited she was to get her acceptance letter. He knew that it would be dangerous to have her so far away, but he figured that enough time had passed. If she was going to regain her memories, she would have done it by now. So far, so good.
Yet, for all of Voldemort's plans, he hadn't counted on the human, emotional factor. Simon had come to care for "Julie" as a daughter. He hated what he'd done. In the beginning, he'd worried about her finding out and having the well-thought out, well-crafted plan fail. Now, his biggest concern was that she'd find out and hate him. He didn't think he could bear that. So, he'd kept quiet and gone about life as usual. Still, the guilt gnawed away at him. There were times when he'd come close to telling her, but one look into her brown eyes, brimming with trust and faith, and he'd lost his nerve.
For all intents and purposes, she was his daughter and he loved her as such. He'd rather die than have her hate him. He knew that if Lord Voldemort were still alive today, he'd be very disappointed in the person he'd considered one of his most loyal followers.
London, England
The past four years had not been kind to Harry Potter. Of course, he had contributed to it himself tenfold. What he could remember of the past four years, he wasn't that proud of. It had been the familiar story of a person racked by guilt and grief seeking comfort in the bottle and with women who had meant little more to him than a warm body on a cold night.
Everyone had tried to help him. Ron, the Weasleys, Dumbledore, Sirius, Lupin, and Hagrid had all tried to get him to quit. He had refused to listen. Ultimately, the decision lay with him. He had to want to quit and he had to get up the stones to do it himself.
The moment of truth came about six months ago…
Flashback
Harry's Apartment
Harry awoke to the sound of loud knocking. He felt as if someone was trapped inside his head and was banging inside of it trying to get out. He opened his eyes, but immediately shut them as the light hurt his eyes.
He hadn't even changed out of his clothes from the night before. He'd just crashed out on his bed when he came back from the pub. The knocking persisted and he somehow managed to get out of bed and slowly made his way to the door. He stubbed his toe on the coffee table in the sitting room and cursed loudly.
"Good morning, sunshine!" Ron said when Harry had finally managed to open the door.
"Well, it's morning, but I think the jury is still out as to whether or not it's good or not," Harry said crossly. "How are you?"
He took a seat on the sofa.
"I'd say I was a damn sight better than you from the looks of you this morning. Did you have another great night?" Ron asked. "I heard from Seamus that he saw you down at the pub downing a few pints. From the look of you now, I'd assume that it was more than a few pints."
Harry wasn't saying a word; he was slumped over on the couch. His skin was a pale, pasty color.
"I think I'm going to be sick," Harry said hoarsely. "But I don't think I have the energy to get up and go to the loo."
Ron quickly went to the kitchen and got the trash can and brought it over to Harry who promptly vomited.
"There, there," Ron said sarcastically. "Let it all out, Harry."
"Is there a reason why you're here?" Harry asked him angrily, when he'd finally come up for air from the trash basket.
"Well, I was at home with absolutely nothing to do, so I thought I'd come by and watch you throw up. It's become sort of a hobby of mine. I'm thinking about charging admission so others could enjoy it as much as I do."
"You can leave now if you've come here to lecture me again. Let me guess. It was your turn to try and talk some sense into me. Did you draw the short straw this time?"
"Why bother?" Ron asked him. "You're determined to drink yourself to death, who am I to stop you?"
"Thank you," Harry said, sitting back on the couch.
"Do you know what I've been wondering lately?" Ron asked.
"No, what's that?" Harry asked. "I'm breathless with anticipation."
"I wonder what Hermione would think of all this," Ron asked him. "You know if she could see you now, I bet she'd wonder what she ever saw in you."
Ron had obviously struck a nerve. Harry's features softened a bit at the mention of Hermione's name.
"Look at yourself, Harry!" Ron asked. "You barely made it through your last year at Hogwarts. You had every opportunity in the world, but you squandered away everything. It wasn't your fault what happened, you know? You didn't kill Hermione."
"I might not have performed the spell, but it was me who got her there, wasn't it?" Harry said, leaning back on the couch.
"Oh, here we go again," Ron said acerbically. "Let's all join Harry's pity party."
"Shut up, Ron," Harry said angrily.
"No, I don't think so," Ron said. "I've sat back and watched you do this to yourself for way too long. This shit has to stop, Harry. You are wasting your life away and you don't even care. It's a good thing Hermione isn't here to see this, she wouldn't want to see what a cliché you've become."
"How the hell do we know what she'd want?" Harry yelled back at him. "She's not here!"
"That's right, Harry," Ron said. "She's not. She's not here. You've got to accept that and move on."
"I can't!" Harry said. "Don't you see? She was my life, Ron. And because of me, she ended up dead. You don't understand because it wasn't you that did this to her. Okay? Did you hear her dad at the funeral? He asked me to leave. He said he couldn't bear to look at the person who was responsible for her death."
"He just lost his daughter, Harry," Ron said. "What did you expect him to say? He didn't mean it. He was angry and hurt and sad about what happened. Hell, we all were."
"He was right, Ron," Harry said firmly.
"I'm so sick of this," Ron said. "I'm not going to sit around and watch you destroy your life anymore. I am not going to sit here and watch you excuse it all by saying that you feel bad and it's your fault when anyone with half a brain knows that it wasn't."
"Get out," Harry said, getting up from the couch and heading over to the door. "You don't want to be, here? Fine, get out." He opened the door and stood in the doorway.
"You're a joke, Harry," Ron said, walking toward him. "The Boy Who Lived has turned out to be nothing but a drunk, miserable fool. I'm sure wherever Hermione is she's proud as can be of you. I know I sure the hell am!"
Ron quickly walked past him and out the door. Harry slammed the door as hard as he could behind him.
"Bastard," Harry muttered.
He walked into the kitchen and pulled a mug out of the sink. He looked in one of his cupboards until he found the bottle of hangover potion that he'd bought in Diagon Alley. He poured himself a glass and took a big swig. It was disgusting to taste, but it did the trick. Within moments, his queasiness and headache were gone.
He sat down at his kitchen table and absently ran his fingers through his hair.
Ron was right, of course. He had barely made it through his last year. He hadn't been drinking, then. He stopped studying. He barely paid attention in classes and this was when he bothered to show up for them. For the first time since he'd started attending Hogwarts, he didn't want to be there. Her memory was everywhere. There was a memory of her behind every corner, in every room, in every class. If it hadn't been for Ron, Ginny, and Neville teaming up to help him, he'd never have gotten through.
After graduation, he'd been offered every job imaginable---Auror, Quidditch, the Ministry of Magic. Hell, he'd even been offered a job with Fred & George in their successful joke shop. He'd turned them all down. He'd lived off the inheritance his parents had left him and bought himself a flat near Diagon Alley.
As he often did, he revisited the night she'd died.
He remembered how he'd cradled her limp body in his arms. Ron and Sirius stood a few feet back, looking just as shell-shocked as Harry. Harry was too concerned about Hermione to notice that officials from the Ministry entered the house, but he did hear one of them ask Sirius, rather tactlessly, "How long is he going to be? We really need to examine the body straightaway."
It was at those words that Harry completely lost it. He let go of Hermione and stood up and angrily walked over to the man.
"She has a name," he said angrily. "She's isn't just a body, okay? She has a name."
The Ministry wizard looked sheepishly back at Harry. "I'm sorry, sir. Of course, she does. I apologize."
Sirius stepped forward and put a hand on Harry's shoulder. "Come on, Harry. We should let these gentlemen do their job. There's nothing more you can do."
He'd meant to sound comforting, but Harry didn't take it that way. Any joy he felt at Sirius' being alive was quickly drowned out by his grief over Hermione.
"I'm not leaving her," Harry said solemnly. He got back down on the floor and took her in his arms again. "I'm not leaving her."
Now nearly four years later, the pain was still so fresh. The wounds hadn't healed. He knew he was just feeling sorry for himself, but he wondered why everything he loved was taken away from him somehow. His parents, Sirius, and now the one person he loved more than his own life, Hermione…they'd all been taken away.
In his life, he hadn't known much lasting happiness, but with her, he'd believed it was possible. He'd experienced it. It might have been for a short time, but he'd had it. It had been there, a chance to live a happy, normal life with the girl he loved. Yet, she too, had been taken from him.
He needed her now, to tell him that he was being stupid. To tell him that he was throwing his life away. He needed her, period. He wanted to see her smile. He wanted to see her roll her eyes when he told her he'd put off doing an assignment. He wanted to see her laugh when he tickled her. He wanted to wake up with her again, and feel her breath on his skin.
He knew that everyone wanted him to talk---to tell them how he felt. They wouldn't understand, though. There was only one person who would. There was only one person he wanted to tell.
So he went to her gravesite that very day. Her parents had her buried in the Granger family plot in a London cemetery. He'd apparated there and as he looked at her tombstone, he felt the tears welling up in his eyes.
Hermione Elizabeth Granger
September 19, 1980-August 14, 1996
Beloved Daughter & Friend
He knelt down on the ground and placed a single pink rose on top of the tombstone.
"I know I haven't come here as often as I should have. I just, didn't want you to see me like this. I've made quite a mess of my life," he said softly. "But, you probably know that. You're probably up their in heaven with my mum and dad shaking your head at me."
Tears were already flowing down his cheeks as he continued to speak.
"Everyone tells me it wasn't my fault, but how can I believe that? If it wasn't for me, you wouldn't have been at that house. I just stood there and watched as he did it, you know. I just stood there. When you needed me most, I just stood there, Hermione."
"I let you down," he said. "It wasn't just on that night, but all the things that I've done since; I don't even feel like it was me. A part of me died that night with you. I don't know how to make this up to you, but I think I have a way. I'm going to turn my life around. I want to be the type of person you'd be proud of. I want to be the guy you fell in love with again. It's going to be hard because you won't be here kicking me in the bum, but I'm going to try. I owe that to you. I won't let you down again."
(End of flashback)
He had managed to do just that. He had turned his life around. It hadn't been easy, but he'd done it. After undergoing extensive tests, both psychological and physical, he'd been accepted to undergo Auror training. In about a week, he'd leave for Scotland, where he'd undergo his training.
He'd also met someone. Her name was Maggie McCall. She had attended Hogwarts with Harry, Ron and Hermione, but she'd been in Hufflepuff house. She worked at the Ministry of Magic in the same department as Mr. Weasley. Harry had met her at one of the Weasleys parties at the Burrow. She was very nice and although Harry had been reluctant to do so, he'd begun to fall for her. They'd only been dating a couple of months, but things seemed to be going well.
She was supposed to be going with him to Ron's flat for dinner tonight, but she'd had to travel to Australia on an emergency with the Ministry. So, Harry made his way to Ron and Kit's flat by himself. Ron and Kit were married nearly a year ago. They'd become quite close in the wake of Hermione's death. Kit had traveled to London with Hermione's parents for the funeral. She and Ron had struck up a friendship that slowly evolved into love over the years. When Kit turned 18, she moved to London permanently where she was accepted at one of the universities.
Kit and Ron were now anticipating the birth of their first child. Kit was only two months along, but both of them had been so excited when they'd shared the news with Harry.
Yes, things were finally looking up for everyone.
Harry apparated right outside of Kit and Ron's apartment. He knocked on their door. Within seconds, Ron had opened the door and looked relieved to see his best friend.
"Thank Merlin you are here," he said, ushering his friend inside.
"Why's that?" Harry asked.
"We outnumber her now," Ron whispered conspiratorially.
"What are you on about?"
"Kit," Ron said. "I know she's only two months along, but can you imagine how bad this is going to get? I have seven more months of this to look forward to. I don't know if I'll be able to survive."
"What did you do?" Harry asked him, amused.
"I have no bloody idea," Ron said. "I offered to help her cook dinner and she snapped at me! So, then I offered to set the table and she said I was doing it wrong! So, I go in here, sit down at the couch and read the newspaper. She comes in here and tells me that I need to get off my lazy ass and help her!"
Harry laughed.
"This isn't funny," Ron said. "She's scaring me, Harry."
Harry tried to stop laughing, but failed miserably.
Ron was about to respond when Kit walked into the sitting room, smiling broadly at Harry.
"Hi, Harry," she said, standing on tiptoe to kiss him on the cheek. "How are you doing?"
"Good," he said. "How about you?"
Okay," she said smiling at him. "I hope you like spaghetti. I think I made enough for a small army."
"Sounds great," he said, grinning at her.
"I'm sorry Maggie couldn't join us," Kit said.
"She is too," Harry said. "She sends her regards."
"When's she coming back?" Kit asked, watching her husband suspiciously as he walked out of the sitting
room and into the kitchen.
"She's supposed to be back sometime tomorrow," Harry said, watching Kit's expression and trying not
to laugh. Her eyes were fixed on the entryway to the kitchen.
Ron came out of the kitchen a few moments later, chewing on something. When he saw Kit looking at him, he stopped dead in his tracks. He stopped chewing. He looked exactly like the proverbial cat that ate the canary.
"Ronald Weasley," she said, rounding on him. "What do you have in your mouth?"
Ron mumbled something that sounded like "Nothing" but came out "Nuffing", seeing as his mouth was obviously full of something.
"Did you sneak a piece of my garlic bread?"
"Just one piece," he said sheepishly.
"You better be glad that I'm a Muggle," she said. "If I could do magic, I think I'd turn you into something."
"It's one piece of bread, Kit," Ron protested. He looked to Harry to back him up, but Harry shook his head.
"You're on your own on this one," Harry said.
Kit gave Ron one last look of disgust to her husband before retreating to the kitchen, all the while mumbling something incoherent under her breath.
Ron held out his hands helplessly. "You see? Do you see what I'm up against? She makes my mum look like a pushover."
"Good luck, Ron," Harry said, laughing. "You're obviously going to need it."
A few minutes later, the three of them were seated at the kitchen table busily helping themselves to plates of spaghetti, salad and garlic bread. They ate in silence for a long time.
"So how are things going with you and Maggie?" Ron asked. "Getting serious?"
"Sort of, Mom," Harry said, joking. "Things are okay."
"Just okay?" Ron asked. "You don't talk too much about her. You only brought her over here once. You're not ashamed of us, are you?"
"No, it's not that," Harry said. "I don't have to spend every waking minute with her now, do I?"
"No," Ron responded. "But, I mean she seems pretty keen on you. Though, for the life of me, I don't see why."
"Thanks," Harry said sarcastically. "What's all this talk about Maggie for? You already have our wedding planned, Ron? We only started dating a couple of months ago."
"It's just that I think it's great that you've finally met someone," Ron said.
"Ron, can we not get into this now?" Harry asked him.
"Yeah, sweetie, stop while you're behind," Kit said.
"I'm just saying that Harry should-," Ron started to respond, but Harry cut him off. He pushed his chair back and stood up.
"Kit, I want to thank you for a lovely meal, but I should get going. I've got an early start tomorrow."
"Harry," Kit said, watching as he placed his napkin down on the table. "You don't have to go."
"I didn't mean to upset you, Harry," Ron interrupted. "I just don't want you to screw this up."
"I appreciate what you're trying to do, Ron," Harry said. "I do, but you know, not everybody can have what you and Kit have."
"You can," Ron said. "If you'd just let go of Hermione."
Harry looked as if someone had slapped him. Kit gasped.
"Ron!" Kit exclaimed, horrified.
Harry regained his composure. "Good night," he said calmly and walked out of the kitchen. A few seconds later, they heard the door shut behind him.
"You shouldn't have said that, Ron," Kit said. "You went too far."
"It's about time someone bloody said it, Kit."
Kit just shook her head.
"You know it was only a matter of time before he chucked Maggie because things didn't work out, which we all know is a load of rubbish," Ron said.
"Ron, he hasn't chucked her yet," Kit said. "They're still dating."
"Yeah, but for how long?" Ron asked. "I know him, Kit. I know him about as well as I know myself. He's going to break her heart just because the poor girl has one flaw; a flaw she can't help.
'What's that?" Kit asked him.
"She's not Hermione Granger," Ron said simply.