Author's Note: Happy Thanksgiving to all who celebrate it!!!! I hope you are all having a great holiday. I took advantage of my free time before the big dinner to do some writing, so I hope you like this chapter…it has a little bit of everything in it. Please tell me what you think, as I know you all will!!!!
Chapter 12
Broken Arrow
"Do you feel what I feel
Can we make it so that's part of the deal
I gotta hold you in these arms of steel
Lay your heart on the line this time"
"I wanna breathe when you breathe
When you whisper like that hot summer breeze
Count the beads of sweat that cover me
Didn't you show me a sign this time"
(Broken Arrow by Rod Stewart)
"What did you just call me?" she asked him. "What did you just say?"
"I said that those flashbacks you've been having," he said. "Those are your memories coming back to you. You're finally getting them back, Hermione."
"My name's not Hermione, Harry," she said, her voice faltering. "It's Julie. I'm Julie Maxwell."
"No," he said calmly, taking her hands in his again. "I was sure the moment that I saw you." He cupped her cheek in his hand, his eyes looking deep into hers.
"You are Hermione Elizabeth Granger. You were born on September 19, 1981. You are the only child of Robert and Karen Granger. They're both dentists. They lived in London until the summer before you turned 16. They were worried about your safety so they moved with you to Atlanta, Georgia."
Julie let go of his hands and got to her feet. She didn't want to listen to him. He didn't know what he was talking about. She wasn't Hermione, she was Julie. She was Julie. She didn't leave. She didn't think she could. It took all her energy to stand up. She leaned against the wall in the narrow hall for support.
"I know you don't want to hear this," he said, his voice pleading. "But you have to listen to me. Four years ago, I thought I'd lost you forever. I never in a million years thought that I'd find you again, but something led me here. Something's caused you to fall in love with someone that you barely know, Julie! You said so yourself the connection between you and I is so strong. You said you didn't know why it was there, but you felt it. Don't you think there has to be a reason behind it? Don't you want to know?"
"What are you playing at, Harry?" she asked him, falling back against the wall. "Why are you doing this to me?"
He got to his feet and walked over to her. He got down on his knees and looked her straight in the eyes. He took hold of her arms.
"I would never play with your emotions or your feelings," he said. "You have to believe me on that? And I'm not doing this to you. I'm doing this for you. You've been lied to for four years. You were taken away from people who loved you and cared about you. Don't you want to know how? Don't you want to know who you were?"
"I know who I am," she said, tears falling down her cheeks again.
"No you don't," he said. "But you're starting to remember."
He took her in his arms and held her tightly. She resisted only for a moment before letting him pull her closer.
"I love you so much," he whispered into her ear. "If you don't believe anything else, you can believe that."
She let go of him and touched his cheek.
"Will you please just listen to what I have to say?" he asked. "That's all I'm asking. If you want to run away after what I've told you, I'll hate it, but I'll understand. I just want you to listen to what I have to say first before you make any decisions, okay? Can you do that for me?"
She looked thoughtful for a moment. She nodded. She wiped a tear away from her cheek and leaned her back straight against the wall. A stoic expression came over her face as she looked expectantly at Harry to begin what he was going to say.
He had so much he wanted to tell her, but no idea how much he should reveal to her at this time. The last thing he wanted to do was scare her off when he was so close to having her back. Given the fact that she hadn't run away yet, he took this as a good sign and began.
"A good man once told me that the truth was a beautiful and terrible thing, and therefore should be treated with great caution. I know this is going to sound about as farfetched an idea as you've probably heard, but go with me on this," he said with a slight laugh. "I'm not like most guys and you aren't like most girls."
"What are you talking about?" she asked confused.
"Well, I'm a wizard," he said simply. "And you're a witch."
"E-excuse me," she choked out. "Did you just say that you're a, um, wizard, and that I'm a witch?"
He nodded. She wanted to laugh, but she saw from his expression that he was serious. This wasn't a joke to him. One look in his eyes and she saw that he meant what he was saying.
"O-kay," she said skeptically.
"We both attended Hogwarts School of Witchcraft & Wizardry," he said. "It's one of the most prestigious magical academies in the world. We met for the first time on the train, just like in your vision. You were helping Neville Longbottom try and find his toad. You came into the compartment where Ron and I were and you had to have been the most pushy, confident person I'd ever met. To be honest, I had no idea what to make of you and neither did Ron."
She listened to him, but her expression was unreadable.
"To make a long story short, we became friends, you and Ron and I," Harry said. "Best friends, actually."
"Okay," she said. "So if this school was so great and I had good friends," she said questioningly, "why would my parents move me to America?"
He nervously ran his hands through his hair again. His shoulders slumped and he took a deep breath.
"They were afraid for your safety because you were friends with me," he said. "They were afraid that you would die if you continued to associate with me."
"But why?" she asked.
"Well, I'm not just your ordinary, run of the mill wizard," he said. "When I was a baby, one of the most powerful and dark wizards of our time tried to kill me. My parents died at his hands and he tried to kill me, too, but he couldn't do it. It's not really important why right now, but the thing is that he marked me as an equal."
"How?"
In response, he pulled back his bangs so she could see his scar again. She hesitantly raised her hand and with her finger lightly traced its shape.
"He spent a long time trying to kill me," he said. "You and Ron were at my side through all of it. You ended up hurt sometimes and there was always a chance that you could die because of it, but you never flinched, Hermione. You knew the risks, but you stood by my side. I never would have made it through any of it had it not been for you."
"The summer before our sixth year at Hogwarts," he continued. "Your parents moved you out of the country. We didn't even get the chance to say a proper goodbye. When I found out, I was so angry and hurt. I wanted to find a way to get to you and make sure you were okay."
"You did, didn't you?"
He nodded and a wave of his own pleasant memories of their secret visits in Atlanta came over him.
"We fell in love," he said. "I think something was always there to begin with, but we weren't ready to see it or feel it until it was the right time. Being pulled apart like we were kind of sped that process up, so to speak," he said. "It took some time, but your parents finally relented to let you come back to school."
"We were together then?" she asked him.
He took her hand in his and stroked it softly. "Yeah," he said. "We loved each other so much, Hermione. You said you remember that Christmas we spent together?'
She smiled as she recalled the flashback she'd had of them in that cozy room.
"You tried to push me away," she said, her voice choking over the words. "You thought you were doing what was best for me, but I told you that I didn't care what the risks were. I knew that I loved you and that you loved me and that we'd face whatever came our way together."
Her eyes were glossy as she said these words and Harry felt a wave of elation come over him.
"That's right," he said happily. "We made love that night for the first time."
She smiled shyly at him.
"We didn't fool ourselves into thinking that something couldn't happen, but we decided to concentrate on what we had and what we felt," he said. "I was going to begin an extensive training session with some of our professors to help me defeat Voldemort."
"Voldemort?" she asked him.
"That's the big, evil, dark wizard," he said.
"This sounds like a movie," she said. "It doesn't sound like real life."
"It was real," Harry said. "It was very, very real."
"Go on," she said softly.
"Well, you started to worry that we might never see each other again as you were going back home to Atlanta and I was going to stay at school for the summer," he said. "We said vows to each other the night before school ended for the term."
"You set up candles and flowers in the Astronomy Tower," she said, her voice in a whisper.
"That's right," he said, again stroking her hand softly with his own.
"Well, what we didn't know was that this Lord Voldemort had this elaborate plan set in motion that would use you and my love for you against me."
"I don't understand," she said.
"He staged your death, Hermione," he said. "He made me think that you had died. I'm not sure on the entire specifics of the plan, but he wanted to be sure that if he died, he'd still claim a sort of victory over me by using the one person I cared most in the world. He figured if I lost you in the greatest triumph of my life, the victory would be hollow. He was right. I wanted to die with you, Hermione. I nearly did. I spent the next three and a half years basically running myself into an early grave."
"How did he stage my death?" she asked.
"His followers went by the name of Death Eaters. We think one of his Death Eaters helped him carry out this plan," he said. "They took you away from England and gave you a new name and a new life and figured no one would be the wiser."
The realization of what he was saying sunk in slowly, but painfully.
She shook her head. "No," she said firmly. "He, he wouldn't do that, Harry."
"Simon Maxwell," Harry said matter-of-factly, "isn't your father, Hermione. He's lied to you for four years. He's led you to believe all his lies and he didn't care that there were people mourning your death. He didn't care."
"No," she said, shaking her head. "That isn't true. He's my father, Harry. He wouldn't have done that. You don't know him. He's a sweet man. He stayed with me after my accident. He helped me recover. He's putting me through college."
He put a hand on her shoulder, but she shrugged it away. She got to her feet again, but she didn't walk away. She stood there, fresh tears falling down her face.
"I know you don't want to believe this about someone you care a great deal about, but you have to know that I would never say something like this to deliberately hurt you. I'm telling you the truth, Hermione," he said.
"No," she said. "This can't be."
"Look at the coincidences, Hermione," he said. "Four years ago, we lost you. Four years ago, you moved here from London to start a new life with your 'father.' You feel an instant connection with someone you supposedly just met? These flashbacks you've been having? Why would you be having them if they weren't your memories?"
His tone wasn't forceful or pressing, he was telling her this firmly, but gently.
"Those men in my room have been helping me investigate what happened to you and who your 'father' really is," Harry said. "If you come inside with me, they can tell you everything we've found out. Please."
She didn't look at him. Her eyes were fixed solely on the floor. She was tapping her foot nervously against the floor.
"Please," he said, holding out a hand to her. She hesitated a moment before raising her own shaking hand to allow him to take it in his.
"Okay," she said.
He smiled reassuringly at her. "Okay."
He put an arm around her and she felt herself relax against his chest. They walked into the room and the three men looked up expectantly at them as they entered.
"Is everything alright?" Lupin asked, looking concerned at Hermione.
"I think so," Harry said softly. "Hermione, this is Remus Lupin. He taught us during our third-year at Hogwarts."
Lupin got up from the sofa and walked over to Hermione. He extended his hand to her. She looked nervously at Harry, who nodded supportively at her.
She shook Lupin's hand and smiled nervously at him.
Sirius, too, had arisen from his seat. He stood beside Lupin.
"This old man," Harry said, laughing "is my godfather, Sirius Black."
"Old man?" Sirius said, trying to look affronted. "You are more and more like your dad everyday, Harry."
He turned his thoughtful gaze on to Hermione. He smiled good-naturedly at her.
"It's great to see you again, Hermione," Sirius said.
Hermione could only nod as he smiled at her.
Harry's gaze turned to Ron, whose mouth was agape at the sight before him.
"And this," Harry said, cocking his head toward Ron, "is Ron Weasley."
"Hermione," Ron said softly. "Is that really you?"
He quickly got to his feet and took her in his arms to embrace her. She looked taken aback at the gesture and didn't return the hug.
"I'm sorry," he said sheepishly when he finally let her go. "It's just really good to see you."
Lupin ushered Hermione and Harry over to the sofa to take a seat. They did so, Hermione held tightly on to Harry's hand.
"Can I get you anything?" Sirius asked helpfully.
"Could I have a glass of water," she said, nearly inaudibly.
"Coming right up," Sirius said, walking away from the living room and into the small kitchenette area. He grabbed an empty glass from the cabinet and filled the glass with a cup of bottled water from Harry's small refrigerator. He walked back over to her and handed her the glass of water. Her hands were still shaking, so Harry took the glass and placed it in front of her on the coffee table.
They each sat there in the small room, no words spoken, all eyes seemingly focused on Hermione. She was trying hard to stay in control of her emotions. She felt as if her entire world was falling apart around her and she had no idea what to do to make things right again.
"Um, Sirius," Harry said, looking at his godfather. "Why don't you tell Hermione what you found out about Simon?"
He took her hand in his and gave it a comforting squeeze.
She turned her gaze to Sirius.
"Well, um," Sirius said. "I'm not sure of all that Harry's told you, but the man that you know as Simon Maxwell, isn't the man that you think he is or that he's told you he is."
Her stony expression gave nothing away. She was listening, but it was hard to tell what she was making of any of it.
"We, that is Professor Lupin and I, did some investigation of Death Eaters in the past and we came up with a man by the name of Maxwell Cambridge. Upon further investigation, we discovered that he went by the aliases of Simon Maxwell and Simon Cambridge. He was heavily involved with Lord Voldemort. He disappeared from sight four and a half years ago. No one has seen or heard from him until now."
Sirius handed her the paperwork he held in his hand and with shaky hands she took it and pored over the words and sentences on the piece of parchment.
"This," she said after a moment. "Can't be true."
"I'm afraid it is," Lupin answered. "We believe that he was involved in a plan to take you away from Harry and all the people who loved you. My guess is that he performed some sort of memory spell or charm to take away your memories so you'd have no recollection of who you really were."
She didn't say anything in response. She dropped the papers to the floor.
"I, c-cant believe this," she whispered. "This isn't true, Harry."
"Hermione," Harry said, moving to embrace her, but she shied away and stood up from the couch.
"Don't call me that," she said. "That's not my name! My name is Julie."
She looked around at the men, who were all staring at her, expressions of concern and worry all over their faces.
"I, um, I have to get out of here," she said shakily. "I can't breathe."
She moved quickly past Harry, who got up and put a hand on her shoulder.
"Please," she said. "Please let me go. I can't be here right now. I can't hear any more of this. Please, just let me go."
Harry hesitated a moment before letting go of her shoulder. She bolted out of the door and down the stairs.
"Harry," Sirius began.
"Don't," Harry said, his eyes still focused on the opened door.
"She'll come around," Sirius said softly. "It's a bit of a shock right now, but she'll come around."
"I'm glad that you're so sure," Harry said, sitting back down on the couch. "Because I think what I've told her today just cost me the woman I love."
Billie was just closing up the restaurant on Sunday evening when she heard a knock on the door. She walked over to the door and pulled up the shade to reveal Julie. She looked horrible.
Billie quickly unlocked the door and ushered her friend inside.
"Sweetheart?" she asked her. "What is it?"
Julie didn't say anything. She just walked into Billie's open arms and dissolved into wretched sobs.
"Julie?" Billie said, patting her on the back as they hugged. "Sweetie, what happened? You're scaring me. Do you want to talk about it?"
Billie let go of her friend and looked her straight in the eyes. Julie nodded.
"Okay," she said. "You go and sit down at the bar. I'm going to get you a cup of coffee, okay?"
Again, Julie didn't say a word and only nodded as she walked in a daze toward the bar and sat on one of the barstools. She watched, disinterested, as Billie quickly put a pot of coffee on and poured the two of them two steaming mugs.
Billie stood on the other side of the bar, her chin resting on her fist.
"What happened?"
Julie was using her finger to trace the top of her coffee mug. She didn't know where to start, but she knew she'd feel better if she talked this out. So, she did. She told Billie what had happened with Trey the night of the wedding reception. She told her about the flashes of memories she'd experienced that night and the next day. She told her how she'd gone to Harry for answers. She told her what Harry had said. She told her about meeting the other men at Harry's apartment. She told her what they'd said about her father.
"That's kind of a lot to take in at one sitting, isn't it, darlin'?" Billie asked her.
"Yeah," Julie said with a shrug.
"Well, let me get this straight? You're a witch, Harry's a wizard. Your father helped a big bad evil guy take you away from your family and friends by staging your death and cleaning out your memory. Does that cover everything?" Billie asked.
"I think so," she said.
"And to think I thought my problems with Frank were bad," Billie said, with a laugh. "Sorry, my pathetic attempt at humor to make light of the situation."
"I don't know what to believe," Julie said.
"Are you sure about that?" Billie asked her.
"What does that mean?" Julie asked confused.
"Well, when he told you all of this, what did your gut tell you?" Billie asked her.
"My gut feeling was that he was crazy," she said thoughtfully. "But from everything I know about Harry, which isn't really a lot considering what I heard to day, but from what I know of him I don't think he's crazy. I mean, they had proof, Billie. Papers. Documents. Pictures. It was all there in black and white."
"Magic, huh? Well, it would explain a lot," Billie said. "Do you remember that time you first started working here? We had that huge party and there were all these drunk, obnoxious businessmen in here? Do you remember how that one group of guys stiffed you on a tip? Do you remember how angry you were? You looked at them and they all proceeded to fall to the floor on the spot. That was spooky as hell, Julie."
"Don't tell me you believe this?" Julie asked.
"Well, it would make sense," Billie said. "There's too many holes in what your father told you, Julie. It seems awfully coincidental that you had your accident four years ago right after the time when this Hermione Granger supposedly died?"
"I can't believe this, Billie," Julie said, shaking her head. "If I believe this, what does that say about my dad? You didn't see him when I was in the hospital. He barely left my side. He told me stories about my mother and about our life. He was so sweet and caring and understanding. He raised me!"
"This sounds like something out a movie, doesn't it?" Billie asked her, patting her on the arm.
"Granted, we haven't known Harry for very long, he doesn't send off any bells and whistles that scream crazy lunatic," Billie said. "One look in that boy's eyes and you can tell he loves you, Julie."
"He loves Hermione Granger," Julie said. "That's not me."
"Are you sure about that?" Billie asked.
"I'm not sure of anything anymore," Julie said, sadly.
"He loves you," Billie said. "And you love him, too. I can see it in your eyes when you talk about him."
"It doesn't matter," Julie said.
Billie shook her head. "It matters more than anything and you know it. "
Julie nodded. "I love him so much it hurts, Billie."
"Why is that when you supposedly have just met him, Julie?" Billie asked. "Think about it. You're one of the most rational and logical people I've ever met. You're not one who throws caution to the wind. When you give your heart, you give it because you know it's the right thing to do. You gave it to him because you knew in your heart that was what you were supposed to do. I believe him, Julie. And I know it scares you to death, but I think you believe him, too."
"Yeah," Julie said. "And you're right. It scares the hell out of me."
Harry sat alone and dejected in his apartment. Ron, Lupin and Sirius had all apparated back to London. Ron had wanted to stay behind, but Harry told him he wouldn't be good company. So, with a promise to keep them posted on any developments, he bid them goodbye.
He was sitting in his apartment, feeling about as low as he'd felt in a long time. He couldn't get that hurt, confused image of her face out of his head. He couldn't imagine what she was going through. He wanted to help her, though. Yet, he had never felt more helpless than he did at this moment.
There was a soft knock on his door. He got up from the couch and walked over dejectedly to the door. To his surprise, Julie was standing outside his door.
"Hi," he whispered.
"Hi," she said softly.
Her eyes were still puffy and her cheeks were flushed from the cold, but to Harry she was beautiful.
"I'm sorry," she whispered.
"What are you sorry for?" he asked her. "You didn't do anything wrong."
"I was only thinking about me," she said. "About what you said and how it affected me. I didn't think of how this would affect you; how this has affected you."
"Are you saying you believe me?" he asked her.
"I don't know what to believe anymore," she said sadly. She shivered.
"Come on in," he said, standing back so she could walk inside. "Have a seat, please."
She did and he joined her on the couch.
"Please understand what you're asking of me, Harry," she said pleadingly. "If I believe you, I'm going against everything I've known these past few years and everything I believed in. You're asking me to go against my father."
"He's not your father," Harry said firmly. "He took you away from everyone who loved you. He took you away from me. I want to kill him for what he did to you."
"Don't talk like that," she said, putting a hand on his leg. "The man you described for me today-that's not my father. That's not the man that I've known. He took care of me. He sent me to college."
"I know this is hard for you," he said. "I'm just so glad that you came back."
"Yeah," she whispered.
"I don't know what to believe in anymore," she said again. "I feel like everything is falling apart around me and I have no way to steady things anymore. I don't know what to do or where to turn."
He took her hands in his and looked into her eyes.
"Can you answer something for me?" he asked her.
"If I can," she answered. Her eyes were fixed on the floor.
"Do you love me?" he asked her.
She didn't answer and avoided his piercing gaze. He took his hand and gently tilted her chin up to look at her. "Do you love me?"
"Yes," she whispered. "I love you."
He smiled.
"Believe in that," he told her, resting his forehead against hers. "Trust in that."
She caressed his cheek softly.
"That's all I have right now," she said. "How could he have done this to me?"
"Let's not think about him, tonight," he said softly. "Tonight isn't about him. It's about you and me."
He pulled away from her and looking into her eyes, he searched for a silent acceptance of what he was about to do. She took the initiative and brought her face in closer and within seconds they were kissing. It started out soft and gentle, but increasingly became more and more passionate.
He brought her mouth to his again, kissing her with an urgency that he hoped conveyed to her the love, the desperation and the frustration he'd felt all the years with out her. When he released her, his breathing was harsh, his green eyes intense.
"I love you so much," he said, tears shining in his own eyes to match hers. He nuzzled his nose against her warm cheek and proceeded to plant kisses all along her cheek and down to her neck. The taste of him was so familiar to her even though she couldn't exactly put her finger as to why or how. She didn't really care at the moment.
She brought her mouth to his again, running her fingers through his hair as she did so. Her head swayed a little, but the kiss remained unbroken as she freed a trapped hand and rested it on his face. His cheeks were warm and a little stubbly.
She broke away from him, but still looked into his eyes. She took her hand to his shirt and slowly began to unbutton his shirt, never letting her eyes leave his. She pulled it away from him and then touched his bare, warm skin.
Harry couldn't' take it anymore. He pulled her closer to him and kissed her again with impatient kisses.
"Not here," he whispered, reluctantly breaking their kiss. He got up from the sofa and took her hand in his and led her to the bedroom. He laid her back onto the bed and she pulled him on top of her. They kissed as if starved---engulfing, whole-mouthed intense kisses that seemingly had no limit.
"I love you," she breathed. She pushed him away for a moment and pulled her sweatshirt over her head and tossed it on the floor. He watched with a slight smile as she slowly removed her lace bra. She raised her eyebrow at him suggestively and tugged at the leg of his pants. He took the hint and quickly undid the zipper and pulled them off as well as his boxer shorts. They sat there on the bed, taking in the sight of each other's naked forms. She looked deep into his eyes and then put her arm on his shoulder. She fell back onto the bed, taking him with her. Again, they kissed, trying to make up for the lost time, caressing each other's bare, warm skin. He planted kisses along her breasts and down her stomach. She couldn't help marveling at how he knew exactly where to touch, exactly where to kiss to make her melt.
"Mmmm," she purred as he worked his way back up to her face and finally claiming her lips in a sweet, soft kiss.
When he entered her, she kept her eyes open, her back arched. She wrapped her arms tightly around his back, taking in the familiar scent of his skin and the soft touch of his skin.
She felt like she was finally home. It was with him that she belonged. She had no doubt of that.