Still loving the reviews everyone-keep 'em coming. Like I said, most of this was written before Book 5 was released, but from this point on you should see little references to Order of the Phoenix. And to the person who asked: yes I read book 5-three times. There really are good reasons why I've been so vague about some things, and they'll be found out soon enough-hang in there.
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Work had become an increasingly difficult task for Hermione over the last month. She loved her job, but the fact remained that something, or someone she loved more had decided to re-enter her life out of the blue.
Mondays were always difficult, but since she was leaving for vacation at the end of the week, the pressure was on to have all her reports and paperwork caught up before she left work on Friday. And to make matters worse, the sun was shining through the one window in her office, making it even harder for her to concentrate.
This time next week, she would be in Godric's Hollow with Harry, an idea that was inviting and scary all at the same time. Hermione had realized almost immediately that the situation would be awkward. Harry, her best friend for seven years, declared his love for her on their last night at Hogwarts before leaving to search out the Dark Wizard who had wanted him dead since the age of one. After defeating Voldemort, Harry disappeared without a trace. Hermione had dreamed about what it would be like to see him again from the time he left her room at Hogwarts. The fantasy had taken many different forms, but always included her spotting Harry, straight from his defeat of Voldemort. Their eyes would meet-oh, those eyes- and they would just hold each other for hours. They would kiss, make love, get married, have children, and live happily ever after.
But none of that ever happened. One year later, she was finally going to see Harry, but time had already done its damage. One year, fifty-two weeks, three hundred sixty-five days. She had never gone without seeing Harry for more than two months since the age of eleven. But even when they weren't together, they had always written letters. She knew he knew how to write, so why did it take him a whole year to grab a quill and a piece of parchment and write? It didn't need to be a play-by-play account, just a simply "hello" would have been enough.
Hermione was also certain that her week at Godric's Hollow would be emotionally draining. Being Harry's friend was no easy task. She would never willingly relinquish the title, but could only imagine how demanding it would be to go a step further. She, many times, found herself comparing Harry to an onion, each having many different layers. Most of the Wizarding world saw him as The Boy Who Lived, a photo opportunity or a story on the gossip page of the Daily Prophet. To most of Hogwarts, he was the Famous Harry Potter, the hero they grew up idolizing and were able to say they shared a classroom with. To the Gryffindors he was Harry, the one person who could lose three hundred points for his House in one day and still be cool because tomorrow he would catch the Golden Snitch. To Ron, he was a great friend, and the first one to see him as Ron Weasley, not Bill or Charlie's little brother. And to Hermione, well, that's a little harder to explain. She had seen him as much more than a friend for two years. He was her lifeline, her sacred place, and the one person who could make her melt with a simple look.
That final night at Hogwarts, Hermione thought she had reached the core of Harry Potter. But now, she recognized just how well that last layer was guarded. In fact, she wondered if Harry knew such a layer existed. How could he possibly share a part of himself he didn't know existed? The answer to that question was what bothered Hermione the most. Their future, together or separate, depended on whether or not Harry could trust her with his core.
Much to Hermione's delight, a small owl landed on her desk just before lunch. The note attached was from Ron.
Hermione,
I had an interesting time at Harry's and thought you might want to hear about it. Is it okay if I stop by tonight around seven?
Ron
Hermione quickly sent a reply to Ron that tonight at seven would be fine. Hearing from Ron gave her a sense of relief, and she was finally able to concentrate on her work for the rest of the day.
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Hermione did many of the usual things when she returned to her flat that evening. She immediately traded in her business suit and robes for a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt, and her hair hastily went up into a ponytail.
Ron arrived at exactly seven o'clock, and after Hermione made each of them some tea, they sat across from each other in the sitting room.
"Interesting, huh?" Hermione asked, as if the information would be on an upcoming test and deserved her full attention.
"To say the least. I hadn't even been there three hours before we were at each other's throats. It was horrible, Hermione. I can't believe I had the audacity to refer to myself as his sidekick."
Hermione gasped. To her, Ron, and Harry, the term "sidekick" carried the same connotation as Mudblood.
"You didn't," Hermione began. Ron nodded in disgust.
"Yeah, I did. One moment I'm telling him how sorry I was to hear about Sirius, and the next we're shouting insults at the top of our lungs. It kind of slipped out, and I regretted it immediately."
"So he's not talking?" Hermione asked as she grimaced towards Ron.
"I wouldn't put it that way. We talked, but Sirius is obviously a touchy subject. Use extreme caution when approaching that bridge. Come to think of it, you might want to let him broach the subject. I could tell that he wants to get it out, but that's always been your area of expertise. Harry knows I'm no good with advice, so I wasn't expecting too much. At least I wasn't disappointed."
"You did apologize, didn't you?" Hermione asked with an expectant look that was too familiar to Ron.
"Of course I did, the next morning. After we got that out of the way, the rest of the weekend was fun. Wait until you see his place, Hermione. The back yard is as big as a Quidditch pitch. We did some flying and just got caught up with each other."
"Did he…. ask about me?"
"Well, I seem to remember your name being mentioned," Ron said with a grin, knowing what was coming next.
"And?"
"He's got it bad, Hermione. I've never seen him like this. Wait, yes I have. He acted the same way our last two years at Hogwarts; I just didn't know what it was all about." Ron paused for a moment to notice the look of realization in Hermione's eyes. He suddenly remembered the piece of parchment in his back pocket and held it out in front of Hermione. "He asked me to give you this." She began to open it, but Ron stopped her. "Don't read it right now. I already know more than I'm comfortable with. I don't mind being asked for advice every once in a while, but I'm not going to be a constant mediator. The two of you need to learn to communicate with each other. I'm sorry if I sound horribly insensitive, but it's the truth."
Hermione agreed and set the note on the table next to her. She looked at Ron and tried to read the expression on his face, but it was unreadable. At any rate, he was right. She couldn't rely on him to fix any problems between her and Harry. Really, she thought, it must be hard enough for him to be stuck in between his best friends.
Ron left a few minutes later after giving the excuse of an early morning Quidditch practice. In reality, he had spotted Hermione eyeing the piece of parchment next to her over twenty-five times since she set it on the table. She needed some privacy, and he was more than happy to give it to her. The nature of their conversation had become very uncomfortable for him, simply because of who was involved. It seemed to rank at the top of the "uncomfortable moments with Hermione" list; right up there with the night he broke up with her.
When Hermione shut the door, she immediately darted for the letter from Harry. She felt bad for not giving her complete attention to Ron, but curiosity had gotten the best of her.
The thickness of the letter surprised Hermione, mostly because most letters she remembered Harry writing were short and to the point. He had, however, proven her wrong once again.
Hermione,
Wow, I don't even know where to begin. It's one o'clock in the morning and I couldn't sleep once I realized you would be here in less than a week. I have so many things to tell you, so I've decided to take the opportunity to write them down for you-in case I lose my nerve to tell you in person.
Most importantly, I love you. I don't for one second think that I could ever lose the nerve to tell you face to face, but I feel the need to make up for all the times I wanted to tell you, but was too chicken-shit. So once again, I love you.
I know you have many questions to ask me, so I'm telling you right now that I have every intention of answering them all. I just ask you to understand how complicated some of the answers will be for me. Keep on me, though, because I need to be completely truthful with you more than anyone else.
Hopefully you can believe me when I tell you that I didn't originally intend to stay away for a whole year. I thought maybe a week or two would be enough for me to get my thoughts together and be able to face the world again, but I was wrong. No one should be left alone with their thoughts for such a long period of time, simply because it becomes harder and harder to grasp reality. If it's possible, I did too much thinking.
I can't begin to tell you how many different scenarios I came up with for my life up until our last year at Hogwarts and how each of them would have made my life different. What would I be like if my parents were still alive, or if I grew up living with Sirius instead of the Dursleys? Or worse yet, what if Hagrid had never rescued me on my eleventh birthday from that hut on the rock and told me I was a wizard? And to top it all off, what if I had accepted your invitation to stay in your room that night? These are the kinds of things I spent my time thinking about over the last year, and I think I've finally made sense of them all.
As much as I would have loved to know my parents, I know that they died protecting me, and that they would do it all over again if they had to. And as much fun as it might have been to live with Sirius, I keep going back to something Ron said earlier today. "If those nasty Muggles did anything right, they made you humble," or something like that. I realize now what Professor Dumbledore was doing when he sent me to the Dursleys as a baby, even if Sirius wasn't in Azkaban. Spending eleven years not knowing who I was made me appreciate what I had even more, even if it pissed me off that everyone knew more about me than I did. But you know, in every situation where I still attend Hogwarts, you were still there. We might not have been friends, or even in the same House. Hell, you might not have gotten in as much trouble, either. But you still would have been there. However, if I had spent the last eight years of my life living on Privet Drive with the Dursleys, not knowing anything about my past, I would have never met you. And Hermione, I don't even want to think about what my life would be like without you in it.
At this point in my life, I find it hard to believe that I ever found you annoying. After all, the same reasons I found you annoying at first are the same reasons I fell in love with you. Ron and I used to call you a know-it-all and a stick in the mud when it came to being adventurous. Instead you are a wonderful witch with a great desire to learn and a confidence in yourself that enables you to do whatever you set your mind to. Your loyalty and love for your friends' well being is always unwavering, and for that I admire you.
And Hermione, you are so beautiful. I can remember the exact day I realized just how beautiful you are. It was December 25, 1994, the night of the Yule Ball. I hate to admit it, but before that night, you were my friend Hermione, who just happened to be a girl. I remember how mad you were at Ron for taking so long to realize that you were indeed a girl, and I can't help but feel guilty that it took me so long to notice as well.
I still can't believe that you'll be here in a week. But if I know you, and I'm pretty sure I do, you're feeling a little uneasy about the whole situation. To tell you the truth, it makes me a little nervous as well. We would be kidding ourselves if we believed that we could jump headlong into a relationship and not resolve some important issues first. Having said that, I think we should take it slow and get to know each other again. I'm confident enough in my love for you to know that I want to do this right, because the last thing I want is for one of us to feel resentment toward the other. I have three guest rooms in the house, so you can rest assured there will be no pressure or expectations.
Actually, I've been racking my brain trying to think of ways to keep you entertained while you're here. I know we have a lot of talking to do, but I also want you to have some fun so the serious stuff doesn't seem so draining. This is your vacation, after all, and you should feel relaxed when you go back to work. I thought about owling Snape and asking him to assign us an essay to work on, but finally decided against it.
I'll be up early Saturday morning, so you can Apparate over whenever you're up and ready. I'm sure Ron told you about the security wards up around the house and I haven't got the fireplace on the Floo Network, so the alley down the street really is the best way. I'll be counting down the minutes.
Love Always,
Harry
Hermione swiped the tears from her cheeks and stared at the parchment in her hands. Harry had gone to great lengths to calm many of the fears she had about spending a week alone in a house with him. He wants to take it slow-that was good. She couldn't help but feel that Harry was still just as in tune with her as he had always been; he always had a knack for knowing what was bothering her and being able to make her feel better.
Even more astonishing was that for all intents and purposes, Harry had written her a love letter. Harry, the same person who hid his feelings for her for two years, had let his feelings flow so freely. Hermione closed her eyes for a moment and thought she could hear Harry's voice, repeating the words written on the piece of parchment. Her nature caused her to remain curious and long for even more information, but now the small amount of bitterness that resided in one corner of her heart had left, and was replaced by a longing to see his face and simply hold him.
By the time Wednesday evening rolled around, Hermione was unable to think about anything but Harry. Luckily she was able to finish all her reports at work and get a start on some of the work she anticipated would be waiting for her when she returned from her vacation. At least she wouldn't be thinking about work while she was with Harry.
Out of pure excitement, she started packing clothes that night. The task proved to be problematic since she had no idea what Harry had planned for them. She remembered him mentioning in his letter that he was planning some activities, but he had conveniently forgotten to mention any of them to her. She decided not to worry about it too much, remembering she could always Apparate back if she needed.
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Harry's eyes stared restlessly into the darkness of his bedroom. He rolled over for the umpteenth time and squinted his eyes to focus on his alarm clock… 1:07 a.m. Hermione would be there in less than twelve hours. He really needed to get some rest, but his mind almost automatically ran through a checklist of projects he wanted to complete before Hermione's visit. He had used magic for some of the smaller tasks, but preferred doing some of them by hand, such as painting the guest rooms and putting the books on the shelves in the library. If nothing else, it had kept his mind off her for a small amount of time.
When exactly he fell asleep he was unsure, but when he woke up at almost nine o'clock Saturday morning, he sprung out of bed almost immediately. He took a quick shower, put on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, and ran a quick hand through his hair; attempting to do anymore than that was useless.
Hermione would be there any minute, but Harry couldn't resist running through the house once more to make sure everything was in order. He was standing in the kitchen nervously fidgeting with the chairs at the table when he heard the doorbell. He froze for a moment, and his heart began pounding heavily in his chest as he made his way to the front door. He quickly had a fantasy about running to the door and opening it to find her there, looking beyond beautiful, before sweeping her up in a wildly passionate kiss. But that wouldn't work. When he finally reached the door, he paused for a second to catch his breath. He could see the back of her head through the small window in the door, and she turned at the same moment he opened the door.
Then there she was . . .
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I'm a horrible person, I know. But you've been waiting so long for them to be in the same room together, so what are a couple more days, right?