Trust

Disclaimer: Not mine, even though I wish it were.

This story was originally posted on FAP back in March, before the release of OotP. So technically it’s AU, but I’ve tried to make it as true as possible.

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Seventeen-year-old Harry Potter walked up the spiral staircase to Headmaster Albus Dumbledore’s office with many different thoughts circling his mind. He had requested to see the Headmaster earlier in the day after having a vision about Voldemort the previous night. He also requested that Dumbledore find Sirius and get him to Hogwarts for their meeting, if at all possible. Harry was almost certain what the vision meant, but he wanted to get reassurance from his mentor and his godfather before doing anything drastic.

Harry walked into the Headmaster’s office to see Sirius sitting in a chair talking with Dumbledore. They were both in large, high back chairs in front of the fireplace, with an open chair obviously for Harry. Sirius was visibly worried about the situation, for his face was very long and dark. It reminded Harry of when he first saw Sirius after he had escaped from Azkaban. Harry wondered why he looked so gloomy, since he hadn’t even told Dumbledore why he needed to meet with them, just that it involved Voldemort.

Dumbledore and Sirius both stood up from their seats when they saw Harry enter the room. Dumbledore walked over to greet Harry, who now stood eye-to-eye with his mentor.

“Mr. Potter, as you can see, I was able to find Sirius as you requested. Luckily he wasn’t too far away, so I won’t take too much credit,” Dumbledore quipped. Harry gave a quick smile as he glanced at Sirius and noticed that he too was smiling.

Harry then remembered that he wasn’t there for a mere visit with his godfather and the Headmaster, and responded to the two men he respected the most.

“Thank you, Professor. I take it you have figured out why I asked to see the two of you.”

Sirius gave a deep sigh, and Harry immediately began to think about how well his godfather knew him. They’d only known each other for four years, but they had an unspoken bond that was much like that of a father and son. Harry sometimes wondered if Sirius could read his mind. It appeared this was one of those moments.

“I wish we could see each other under better circumstances, Harry, but am I right in assuming you had another vision about Voldemort?” Sirius had regained the gloomy look in his eyes that Harry noticed when he first entered Dumbledore’s office.

He had walked over to Harry and put his arm around Harry in a very fatherly gesture, which calmed his nerves immensely. Maybe this won’t be so hard after all, Harry thought.

Harry nodded as Sirius and Dumbledore steered him over to the chairs in front of the fireplace. The chairs were in a half-circle, and Harry took the seat to the far left, with Sirius sitting next to him, and Dumbledore on the other side. Harry sat back in his chair and got comfortable. He knew this wasn’t going to be a five-minute meeting. Sirius leaned forward, ready to take everything in, and Dumbledore sat back and took command of the situation.

“Well Harry, your record in the past demands that we take what you have to say seriously, so you may begin whenever you are ready.”

Harry took a deep breath and adjusted himself in his chair once more. He wasn’t exactly sure where to begin, and his scar was beginning to ache again, though not as bad as when he awoke this morning. He was able to block it out most of the day, but now he was faced with the horrible thoughts again, and the pain was numbing.

“The first thing I remember is being out on the grounds. It was a sunny and warm afternoon, but I remember thinking it was weird that I was the only one outside on such a nice day. I walked around for a few minutes, and then I heard someone walking behind me, so I took out my wand and turned around. It was,” Harry stopped abruptly when he realized the dream had nothing to do with Voldemort. Not this one anyways. He looked quickly to Sirius, who was itching with anticipation. Harry tried not to look nervous about what his godfather was thinking, but Sirius jumped in with a question almost immediately.

“Was it Voldemort, Harry?” Sirius was so certain about the answer to that question that he immediately wondered why he asked it in the first place. He knew it had nothing to do with Voldemort, but that’s whom the three of them were there to discuss, so it was his way of staying on topic. I’ll talk to him later about this other dream, Sirius thought.

“No, I apologize,” Harry replied, “That’s a different dream, and it has nothing to do with Voldemort. Sorry.” Harry glanced over to Dumbledore, who looked calm as usual, and then to his godfather. Sirius knows something else is going on, he thought. Harry tried his best to look nonchalant, but he knew he would have to explain everything later, and he wasn’t looking forward to it.

“Whatever you say, Harry. You may continue when ready,” Dumbledore responded. Harry noticed Sirius’ eyes looking straight at him, eagerly waiting for what he had to say. He took a deep breath and sat forward in his seat as well, wanting to concentrate and not leave any detail out.

“I’m ready, sir. The first thing I remember is being in a cemetery. It was the same cemetery from my encounter with Voldemort during fourth year. I recognized many of the same headstones, including the one of Tom’s father. I remember wondering how I got there, but I think I must have gone there on my own. Wormtail was there also. Voldemort said to me something like ‘I knew you would come.’” Harry paused for a moment so Sirius and Dumbledore could absorb what he had said so far. Sirius flinched at the mention of Wormtail, and Harry noticed that his godfather was now clenching his hands together as if to ring someone’s neck. After a moment of silence, Harry continued. “Voldemort then told me he had waited sixteen years for this day, and that he was finally strong enough to defeat anyone who stood in his way. He said it was my fault his master plan had failed, and that I would pay for the sixteen years I took from him.”

“Wow, Harry. Sounds like you really pissed him off,” Sirius retorted, his smile falling from his face once he realized that Harry wasn’t amused at his attempt at a joke.

“That’s not all,” Harry continued with a seriousness neither Dumbledore nor Sirius had seen before. He had a feeling that once he finished telling them what he had seen that his fate would be sealed, and with that in mind, he continued. “The next thing I remember is Voldemort and I dueling and it being light out. But when I think of it now, it was dark when I first saw him in the cemetery, and it changed from light to dark a few different times.” Harry’s voice trailed off as he watched the expression on Sirius’ face. Once again on the edge of his seat, Sirius scratched his head.

“Did you see how the duel ends, Harry?” Sirius wore a genuine look of concern for his godson. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to hear the answer to his question or not, but he continued to look at Harry awaiting an answer. If I know maybe I can help in some way, he thought.

Harry was thrown back by Sirius’s question, but tried not to make it obvious. He hoped he wouldn’t have to answer that question, but with Sirius and Dumbledore now staring at him waiting for his answer, he knew it wouldn’t be possible. “The last thing I remember is both of us being extremely worn out. We both cast a spell at the same time, and then I woke up.” Once again Harry hoped his audience wouldn’t ask any more questions about what he saw. He seemed to relax a bit when Sirius sat back in his chair, obviously in deep thought. But the anxiety returned when Sirius jumped to the edge of his seat once again in preparation to speak.

“I know this is difficult Harry, but do you remember what the spells were?”

Harry’s hopes of not having to divulge this information were crushed as he looked woefully at his shoes and began to scratch his head. There was no getting around the subject now. He would tell Sirius and Dumbledore what he remembered, and then brace himself for their reaction.

“I remember mouthing words, but I can’t recall what they were.”

“What about Voldemort? Can you remember what spell he used?”

Harry looked at his godfather and recognized the look in his eyes. It was the same look of worry Sirius was wearing when he walked into Dumbledore’s office. Harry adjusted himself in his seat once again, and ran his hand through his hair, something he was told reminded many people of his father, and prepared his response after sighing heavily.

“Yeah, I do,” he said, immediately looking down. He didn’t want to see the look on Sirius’ face when he finished what he had to say. It would be too difficult. “It was Avada Kedavra.”

Sirius did a double take at the mention of these words. Harry caught his reaction out of the corner of his eye and prepared himself to answer the many questions he knew were coming by sitting up to face Sirius and Dumbledore once again. As Sirius sat in what appeared to be a state of shock, Dumbledore spoke for one of the first times during their meeting. This is it, Harry thought.

“Harry, it appears to me that you have most of this already worked out in your head. You must understand what this means, or it wouldn’t be nagging you.”

“I do Professor,” Harry replied as he nodded in agreement. He noticed Sirius break out of shock and look at him in bewilderment before becoming very angry and vocal.

“Would someone mind filling me in on why we are so calm about Harry going off to meet his death?” Sirius exclaimed while jumping out of his chair. His reaction scared Harry, whose green eyes became narrow. No one said anything for a minute, giving Sirius a chance to settle down. Once he got the rage out of his system, He sat back in his chair and glanced apologetically at Dumbledore and Harry.

“Sirius, Voldemort has to be stopped. It’s me he wants. I have to go to that cemetery again and finish this once and for all. If it means I have to sacrifice myself, then so be it.” Harry noticed Sirius looking for words to jump in, so he continued before Sirius had the opportunity. “I know exactly what you’re thinking, but don’t. I’ve been thinking about the possibility of this war coming down to this for a couple of years now, and if I have to sacrifice myself to save the lives of innocent people, then I have to do it.”

Sirius thought about yelling at Harry, but thought twice. He realized that Harry had his mind made up, and if there was one thing he had learned in the years since he was reacquainted with his godson, it was that his stubbornness rivaled that of his mother and father. He conceded his verbal battle with Harry by sighing deeply and sitting back in his chair before speaking.

“I don’t agree with you, but I reckon you will do this with or without my consent, so just be careful. Your parents would be very proud of the man you’ve become, Harry.”

Harry thought he saw Sirius wipe a tear from his eye, but couldn’t be sure. Sirius did make him think, though. For the first time, Harry began to think about everyone he would be leaving behind. His expression turned from boldness to apprehension, and now he was the one discreetly wiping a tear from his eye. He hoped no one would notice, but Dumbledore soon broke the uneasy silence that filled the room, telling Harry he had indeed noticed.

“I believe the two of you are forgetting one very important detail of this situation,” Dumbledore began. “You cast a spell as well, Harry. And while you may be ready to sacrifice yourself in order to defeat Voldemort, you must also consider the possibility that there is another way.” Dumbledore calm as always, sitting back in his chair with his hands clasped together and looking over his half-moon spectacles. Harry and Sirius, on the other hand, were dumbfounded. Both tried to speak at the same time, but when Sirius turned to see the look on Harry’s face, he conceded and let him speak.

“But Professor, we all know there’s no way to block the curse. I have to face the fact that I probably won’t live to see my eighteenth birthday.” Harry exuded a feigned bravado now. Deep down, he was scared more than he had ever been before.

Dumbledore recognized the fear in Harry’s voice (he had heard it before) and interjected almost before Harry could finish his statement. “Harry, I’m not sure that I’ve ever told you this before, but you are one of the most talented, as well as humble, wizards to ever walk the halls of Hogwarts. I have watched you grow over the last seven years, and aside from you and your friends’ rule breaking, you have also saved this school many times from the likes of Voldemort. There is no doubt in my mind that you will face him once again and come out victorious.”

“Thank you, Professor. That means a great deal coming from you,” Harry replied, his emerald green eyes wide from the compliment he just received from his mentor.

The three of them sat quietly for a moment before Dumbledore stood up and began to direct Harry and Sirius to the door. It was getting late, and Harry had classes the next morning. His eyes heavy, Harry began to think about his comfortable bed that awaited him: the springy mattress, the warm sheets, and fluffy pillow, and hopefully minus the scar aching and visions of him and Voldemort dueling to the death.

“Harry, I have only a couple more things to ask of you before you leave,” Dumbledore said. “I think it would be best for you to wait until after graduation to leave as not to attract any unneeded attention.” Harry and Sirius nodded in agreement, and Dumbledore continued. “I also believe it would be best if you wait to tell Miss Granger and Mr. Weasley of your plans until the evening you leave. You should enjoy the rest of the time you have here, Harry, and telling them sooner will only make it more difficult.”

Harry agreed with this as well, but as he and Sirius turned toward the staircase and began descending, he couldn’t help but think about how hard it was going to be. He had to play along for a week with his best friends and pretend like nothing was wrong. Harry was almost certain that Ron and Hermione would notice he wasn’t telling them something, but he would have to do his best to throw them off the trail.

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Harry continued to be in deep thought as he and Sirius walked down the hall from Dumbledore’s office. Both had been silent thus far, and Harry secretly hoped Sirius wouldn’t mention anything about his little slip-up earlier. With every step, Harry became more confident that his godfather had shrugged it off, but as they approached an empty classroom a few minutes later, Sirius stopped Harry and looked at him while putting a hand on his shoulder. Wishful thinking, Harry thought.

“We need to talk, and I think you know what it’s about.” Sirius stared at Harry as he nodded and immediately looked down to his shoes as they walked into the classroom.

Harry felt defeated as they found seats toward the front of the classroom. He had never told anyone about that dream before, not even Ron. And now he was spilling all to Sirius, which he finally concluded wouldn’t be so bad. At least he knew Sirius wouldn’t spread it all over school. Harry continued to stare at his shoes in deep thought until Sirius caught his attention by waving his hands in front of Harry’s face.

“Harry, I’m not going to beat around the bush,” Sirius began. Harry’s eyes had now returned to his shoes, where he was beginning to analyze the stitching. “The person in the other dream you talked about tonight was a girl, and you love her.” Harry’s head bolted up to stare Sirius straight into his eyes.

“How…I…”

“And you’ve loved her for a while now. That’s why you got that scared puppy dog look on your face in Dumbledore’s office tonight. It was the first time you thought about losing her.”

Harry looked down once again, but this time he wasn’t sure what to say. How did Sirius know? Was he that obvious? And if Sirius knew, did she know? Does he know who it is? Harry’s head was exploding with questions, but none of them could find his mouth. He just sat there. He looked up to Sirius, and with only his eyes asked him, what should I do?

Sirius noticed the battle going on in Harry’s head. He began to think of reasons why Harry hadn’t said anything to her already. He’s scared, he thought. Sirius was almost certain who the girl was, but he didn’t want to shock Harry more than he already had. He read the look in his eyes and thought about what to tell him. Sirius once again placed his hand on Harry’s shoulder and reassured him.

“Tell her how you feel Harry, as hard as it may be. And then do everything in your power to come back.”

Harry simply nodded. He still couldn’t find any words. Earlier in the day he had everything under control, and now his life was in a tailspin. Sirius was right, but it was going to be difficult. Finally, he found some words, though not very many, and managed to tell Sirius “thank you.”

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While in bed that night, Harry’s mind was racing. His thoughts jumped from how to block an unblockable curse to the discussion he had with Sirius in the empty classroom. He couldn’t help but think that Sirius knew more than he was letting on, that he knew Harry was in love with Hermione.

Thank you to everyone who has reviewed so far…I appreciate your comments. I have through Chapter 7 finished for this story so far, so the updates to that point will be fairly quick. I am currently working on Chapter 8, and hope to have it finished once I get over my writer’s block. Until then, here’s chapter one.

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Hermione walked into her apartment on a warm and sunny Friday afternoon with relief. She hadn’t felt well all day, but couldn’t put a finger on why she was feeling bad. Her stomach wasn’t aching and she didn’t have a headache, but she was unable to concentrate on her work all day. She tried to remember if she’d ever had this feeling before. As she put her jacket over a chair in the kitchen, Hermione struggled to get a grasp of what she was feeling. She hadn’t forgotten any birthdays, to make any calls at work, or anything of that sort. Her eyes caught a glimpse of the calendar on her wall as she walked into the sitting room, and that’s when it hit her. It was June 20^th, and Voldemort had been gone for exactly one year. But that wasn’t all.

It had also been a year since she had heard anything about Harry. Hermione plopped herself onto the sofa and began to think about the last time she saw him. It was the night of their graduation, and Harry had pulled her and Ron aside outside the Entrance Hall just after the feast.

“Please forgive me for not telling you sooner, but I’m leaving tonight to find Voldemort. I have a good idea where he is, and it’s time to finish this for good,” Harry said. He was anxiously awaiting his best friends’ responses. He’d been preparing himself for a week, and it wasn’t going to be pretty.

Ron chimed in almost immediately, “We’ll go with you, Harry. It can be our last adventure before we go into the ‘real world.’”

“NO,” Harry exclaimed, “I have to do this on my own. I’ve put you in danger too many times already. I couldn’t live with the guilt if something happened to one of you. I still blame myself for what happened to Cedric, and I won’t let that happen again.”

Tension filled the air as the three friends searched for words. Ron leaned against the wall defeated. He knew there was no way to change Harry’s mind. Hermione, however, wouldn’t let it go that easy. “Harry, you shouldn’t do this alone. Voldemort is stronger now than he’s been in the past. Please tell me you won’t.”

Tears began to well up in her eyes. Harry noticed, and did his best to calm down his best friend. “Sorry, Mione, but my decision is final. I have to go see Dumbledore before I leave. I love you guys, I hope you know that.” Harry then turned and walked away, not giving either of them a chance to say good-bye. Harry hated good-byes, and must have figured it would be easier on everyone that way.

Hermione remembered that moment as if it were yesterday. The memory brought tears to her eyes as she lay on the sofa. She recalled how defensive and hardheaded Harry had been. She always knew he was stubborn, but he had never been so defensive before. Her and Ron had parted after Harry left and decided to meet each other on the Hogwarts Express in the morning. She was in her room packing later that evening, her trunk on her bed and facing away from the door when she heard the door open.

Hermione turned around to face her door expecting to see Ron or possibly Ginny stopping by for a chat. To her surprise, Harry stood there motionless in the doorway, making Hermione’s whole body go numb. “I thought you left,” she said, sounding surprised he was standing before her. She was really relieved, and the thought began to circle her mind that maybe he had changed his mind.

“I made it as far as the door, but I needed to talk to you about something before I left.” Harry walked into her room and set down his Invisibility Cloak on her chair. He moved her trunk to the other side of the bed and sat down, motioning for her to do the same.

Hermione recognized that this Harry was different from the one she spoke to earlier. In fact, he was in a way different from the one she had known since the age of eleven. She moved tentatively to the bed and sat down next to Harry. “I’m so glad you’ve changed your mind about this, Harry. I knew-“

Harry grabbed Hermione by the hand and stopped her from speaking. He looked down for a moment before his eyes settled on hers. “I’m sorry Mione, but I haven’t changed my mind about Voldemort. In fact, it’s why I’m here right now.”

Hermione was speechless. She wondered why he came to see her in her room, when it seemed they had had the almost the same conversation a couple of hours ago. “I’m confused, Harry. If you’re still leaving, why did you feel the need to come here and rub it in my face that I may never see you again,” Hermione replied, beginning to become very annoyed at Harry. Her annoyance caused her to take back her hand from Harry’s grasp and back away from him. She was right, she didn’t know this Harry.

“Please Hermione, give me a chance to explain. I have to tell you something important,” Harry pleaded. He reached out for her hand once again, and she looked into his sparkling eyes to see how desperate he had become. “I need to make sure you understand something I said earlier. I love you, Hermione, and I mean it.”

“I love you and Ron, too, Harry. The two of you are the best friends a girl could ask-“

“No, Hermione, that’s not what I meant. Don’t get me wrong, I love Ron, too. He’s like a brother to me,” began Harry. He was visibly nervous, and beads of sweat were beginning to form on his forehead. “Oh Hermione, I don’t know how to explain this…”

Hermione leaned in closer to Harry to let him know he had her attention. She directed his eyes back to her, and reassured him, “Harry, this is me you’re talking to. You should know that I would understand.”

“You’re right,” Harry replied, flashing her a smile she hadn’t seen in a long while. It reminded her of when they were eleven. “I don’t just love you Hermione. I’m in love with you, and have been for the last two years. But I’ve been too afraid of all the problems it could cause to do anything about it.”

Hermione’s heart melted. She could see how much this was hurting Harry, but she wasn’t sure to what extent. She stared into his eyes for a moment in confusion, hoping he would answer the question she couldn’t form the words to.

“It’s not just the friendship factor that worries me, Hermione. Voldemort has been looking for a way to get to me, and being with you would make you an immediate target, and not only as my girlfriend. You’re Muggle-born, Hermione, and your family would become a target as well. And like I said earlier, I just couldn’t live with myself if I put someone in danger like that.”

Once again they stared at each other, neither of them knowing what to say. Then, as Harry began to stand, Hermione grabbed his hand, returning him next to her on the bed. She leaned forward and kissed him lightly, initially catching him off guard. He returned her kiss, moving his hands to her hips and pulling her closer. Hermione ran her hands through Harry’s hair, messing it up more than she previously thought possible. Breathing became more of a chore as they continued, neither of them wanting to face the inevitable. Harry finally broke their kiss, setting his forehead against hers and looking deep into her chocolate eyes as both struggled to regain normal lung capacity. Finally, Harry spoke.

“Hermione,” he began, but was cut off by Hermione’s finger resting gently over his lips.

“Don’t go. Stay tonight and then you can leave in the morning. I won’t stop you.” Desperation was embedded in Hermione’s eyes. She may not have known this Harry, but she liked him, and didn’t want him to leave.

“As much as I’d love to Hermione, I can’t. I don’t want to make this more painful than it already is.”

“But,” Hermione began. This time though, she was the one cut off by Harry’s finger on her lips. He smiled gently at her, and kissed her lightly before standing and heading toward the door, not noticing the tears that had now overcome her.

Harry stopped at the door to her room and turned to face her once more, noticing her bloodshot eyes. She looked up to see him standing there, tears in his eyes as well.

“I love you, Hermione Granger, and nothing or nobody will ever change that. Ever.”

As Harry disappeared from her sight, Hermione broke into tears once again. He was gone, and there was nothing she could do about it. Lying back in her bed, she whispered the words she couldn’t find earlier, hoping he could somehow hear them.

“I love you too, Harry.”

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It was now clear to Hermione why she felt so horrible. It had been almost three months since she’d even thought about Harry and everything that had happened over the last year, and she was feeling guilty.

She began to review what she knew about Harry’s final battle with Voldemort, which was surprisingly little considering she worked at the Ministry as a member of the Magical Law Enforcement Squad. What she did know was that Harry and Voldemort dueled for three days straight. She didn’t know exactly how Harry defeated Voldemort, but she learned that Harry spent a couple of days in St. Mungo’s recovering from injuries. Another day was spent at Ministry headquarters answering questions, but Hermione was so busy with other work that day that she didn’t even know he was there until after he left.

Since that day, not one person in the wizarding world had heard from Harry Potter. And if they had, they weren’t talking. Hermione and Ron got together and wrote him a letter trying to find out where he was and if he was all right, but never received a reply. Soon, Hermione began sending weekly letters to Harry, mainly to update him on what was happening in her life. The tone of these letters changed dramatically over the months though, obviously a direct result of not receiving return letters from Harry.

By the time March came along, Hermione had had enough. She scribbled what would be her final letter to Harry.

Harry,

For someone who says he loves me, you sure don’t care too much about what your absence is doing to me. Not a day goes by that I don’t think about you, hoping you’re all right, and just wishing you’d at least say hello. I thought our friendship alone would be enough for you to trust me, but I guess I was wrong.

Hermione

Not even the last letter motivated Harry to respond. Hermione began to think that Harry didn’t really love her. She contemplated the possibility that his confrontation with Voldemort scared him so much that he felt compelled to say things that weren’t exactly true. She quickly dismissed the idea, though. Harry had always been truthful with her, and despite the tone of her last letter, she trusted him completely.

Hermione soon heard a tapping at her window and jumped in surprise. She quickly recovered and walked over to the window. It was Hedwig, the one owl that could bring her out of her sudden depression. Hedwig sat on the windowsill and handed Hermione the piece of parchment. She instantly recognized the handwriting as Harry’s. She thanked her and sat back down on the sofa as she began to read the letter.

Hermione,

The last year has been very hard for me. I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me for not letting you know I was all right. My feelings for you remain, and I hope we can see each other soon. I recently moved into a house in Godric’s Hollow, where my parents lived. I’d like for you and Ron to come visit in July, the third week if possible. Hopefully it will help you understand my absence. Send a response back with Hedwig.

Love always,

Harry

Hermione was stunned. Harry had known exactly what to say to calm her fears. She quickly grabbed the first piece of parchment she could find and replied to Harry’s letter. She would go to Godric’s Hollow in July with Ron. It would be just like old times. But would it, really? There would be awkwardness between her and Harry, and she was almost certain Ron would be shocked to find out the developments between his two best friends. From time to time, the feelings still shocked Hermione.

Hermione continued to sit on her sofa for what seemed like an eternity, soaking in the words from Harry’s letter. My feelings for you remain, she thought. How did he know that worried me? She then realized one of the reasons she fell in love with him was that he always knew what was on her mind.

A knock on the door surprised Hermione once more, and she jumped up from the sofa wiping a lone tear from her cheek. She opened the door to find Ron standing there, standing taller than she remembered him. It had been five months though, and she hadn’t been in the greatest of emotional states. Come to think of it, she wasn’t now either.

“Hermione, it’s good to see you,” Ron said, pulling her into a hug and wearing his trademark grin.

“Good timing as always, Ron.” Hermione quickly stuffed Harry’s letter into her pocket and guided Ron into her sitting room. She obviously wanted to talk to him about Harry, but she didn’t feel comfortable telling him about everything just yet.

“I take it you got your letter from Harry. I got mine a little while ago, and then decided to Apparate over here to talk. I’m staying at the Burrow this weekend, so it wasn’t that far.”

“So you’re going with me to see him next month? Will your schedule with the Cannons allow it?” Hermione was determined to make sure Ron didn’t suspect anything. She felt guilty about not telling him about her and Harry, but to tell the truth, she wasn’t exactly sure at the moment. Her questions were a feeble attempt at normalcy, and she feared Ron wasn’t buying it.

Hermione offered a seat to Ron on the couch, with her taking the chair next to it. He quickly noticed the tear soaked pillow next to him, but shrugged it off. Hermione spotted it as well, but relaxed when he didn’t say anything about it. Instead, Ron sat on the edge of his seat with his hands clasped together, making her realize that he wasn’t here to talk about her pillows.

“Er…Hermione, I’m going to see Harry, but not with you. I’m going to go for a couple days at the first of the month.”

“Oh, so you couldn’t get that week off. I suppose I could check with Harry and see if I could come then also.”

“No, don’t change your plans. I’m going then because I don’t want to feel like a third wheel.”

“Wha-what do you mean? We’ve been friends for eight years and you never felt this way before,” Hermione questioned. She suddenly became very defensive and began to shiver. What does Ron know? She thought. She could feel her face becoming warm and red, and her eyes began to burn as a result of her earlier crying. She wasn’t ready to tell him about everything, at least not yet. What she really needed was to talk to Harry and find out where they stood. Then maybe she could tell Ron everything, but now wasn’t a good time.

“Hermione, who do you think you’re kidding?” Ron said in a very matter of fact voice. “You love Harry, and he loves you. You’ve been an absolute wreck this last year not knowing where he was.”

“How did you know? It’s not like either one of us told you or anything.”

“I guess I’ve always known really. I had a suspicion towards the end of fifth year that you were interested in someone else, but couldn’t prove anything. That’s why I came up with that lame reason to break up with you. I figured you wouldn’t admit to it, and I just wanted you to be happy. And if you think about it Hermione, all we did was argue anyway.”

Hermione’s mouth now hung open with shock. She enjoyed the time she spent dating Ron, but in the end they really were just friends. The spark wasn’t there, not like she felt when she was with Harry.

“So you figured me out, Ron, but what about Harry? He can be cryptic at times, you know.” Hermione was very interested to find out how Ron knew about Harry felt about her. True, Harry could be cryptic, but him and Ron shared almost everything.

“Hermione, for being the top of our class, it sure is taking you a long time to figure this out. We shared a dorm room for seven years. Remember those dreams he’s always having? They weren’t always bad. And he had a tendency to talk in his sleep, too. I remember your name being said many times, especially during the last term of our seventh year.”

Ron continued after a brief pause that found Hermione’s mouth open even further, if that was possible.

“And our last night at Hogwarts, he came and saw you after the three of us talked. His trunk was still in our room when I got back up to our room, so I knew he hadn’t been back from Dumbledore’s office yet. I was on the floor packing my shoes into my trunk when I heard him come in and grab his Invisibility Cloak. When he left the door open I tried to find out where he was going, and then I saw your door open seemingly by itself. That’s when all the evidence fell into place. And you were absolutely dreadful the next morning on the train. You sat in our compartment with your finger on your lips for the whole ride. I haven’t said anything until now because I wasn’t sure how you would take it. I didn’t want you to think I was prying.”

Ron’s sincerity touched Hermione. She reached into her pocket and pulled out the letter Harry sent her. She didn’t show it to him, but she didn’t have to. A tear began to run down her cheek as she looked at Ron and decided to tell him everything. Well, almost everything.

“I love him so much, Ron, but what hurts the most is that I couldn’t even say it to his face when I had the chance. Harry poured his heart out to me about everything—why he never told me before—and all I could do was sit there and cry. And you’re right, I have been miserable this year, and he’s the reason. I just wish he knew that.”

Ron moved from his seat to the chair where Hermione was sitting. Her crying was full now, and Ron simply leaned in front of her and took her hand for support. He’d never seen her this way before. Hermione was always the rock of strength in their friendship, and Ron wasn’t sure what he should do to comfort her. Slowly he pulled her into a hug, and let her cry onto his shoulder for a few minutes before he pulled her away.

“You’ve been given a second chance, Hermione. Go spend time with him in Godric’s Hollow. I’m sure he has a good reason for staying away. And now that You-Know-Who is gone, there shouldn’t be anything standing in your way.”

Hermione got a small smile on her face before she hugged Ron again, this time thanking him for his support. As they pulled apart and Ron began to leave, he stopped and put his hands on her shoulders, speaking as softly as he knew how.

“The two of you are perfect together, you know, and Harry’s got to be the luckiest guy in the world. Don’t let him get away.”

“Thanks, Ron. I don’t know what I would do without you,” Hermione said as she wiped the tears from her eyes and pulled her hair out of her face. She followed Ron to the door to show him out, thankful she had a best friend like him. She had so much more she wanted to ask him, but figured now wasn’t the right time. Hermione contemplated that Ron might still have some feelings for her, but didn’t want to address that right now.

Hermione opened the door for Ron as he walked out of her apartment. Before leaving, he looked at her once more, smiled, and put his hand up to her cheek.

“Don’t worry Hermione, everything will work out. Why don’t you come to my Quidditch match tomorrow? Mum, Dad, and Ginny will be there, too. Then we can talk some more, if you’re up to it.”

“Sounds like fun. It would be good for me to get some fresh air.”

“Good. I’ll have your name put on the pass list and let Mum and Dad know you’re coming. Ginny will be hysterical. She really missed having you around this year.”

Thanks for everything, Ron. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Hermione closed the door and returned to the sofa and her tear-soaked pillow. In three weeks, she would be spending a week alone with Harry. She wondered if it would be awkward. Yes, it would be awkward. She trusted and loved him unconditionally, but wondered if her feelings were mutual. If they were to have any future together, they had to be.

Thanks again for all the reviews! I’m glad to hear that everyone is enjoying the story so far. This chapter is a little shorter than the rest, but I’ll make up for it…I promise. It’s also my least favorite, but there is something that will come up in future chapters. See if you can figure it out.

I have to give all kinds of thanks to Jennifer, who has beta’d this for me since the very beginning when it was nothing more than a huge plot bunny.

*******

The following day should have made Hermione feel happy. She was going to watch her best friend play Quidditch, as well as see her good friend Ginny and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley. However, that was not the case. Her initial elation at seeing Ginny was overcome with fear. Hermione was sure their conversation would turn to Harry, and she wasn’t exactly sure how to handle that right now.

As Hermione waited at the Quidditch stadium for the Weasleys, she contemplated how to approach a conversation with Ginny. She was almost certain that Ginny would know Harry sent Ron a letter, since he was at the Burrow when he received it, but she wasn’t sure exactly how much Ginny knew.

A thought occurred to her just then, a thought that hadn’t crossed her mind before. Harry told her the night he left that he had been in love with her for two years. If that was true, it coincided with a period of time when Harry was dating Ginny. Suddenly, Hermione became flooded with a whole new set of emotions. Harry and Ginny both conceded that their break-up was mutual, but now Hermione couldn’t help but think that she had something to do with it. This is going to be harder than I thought, she murmured under her breath.

“Hermione, dear, how wonderful to see you again!” The voice coming from behind Hermione shocked her, but upon turning around, she was delighted to see Mrs. Weasley, holding out her arms and smiling profusely. Mr. Weasley and Ginny stood behind her, as if they were embarrassed by her outburst.

“Hello, Mrs. Weasley, it is nice to see you again,too,” Hermione replied, hugging her back. She then turned to Mr. Weasley and shook his hand while exchanging hellos.

Ginny stood next to her father, patiently waiting for her turn to greet Hermione. She missed not having her at Hogwarts to talk to the last year. She missed their talks when Ron and Harry were off at Quidditch practice, or when Hermione was at the Burrow during the summer. Hermione was like the sister she never had, really.

Hermione and Ginny looked at each other for a moment, not knowing what to say. Each knew what was on the other’s mind, but decided now wasn’t the time. Instead, they smiled and hugged, happy to see each other once again.

“So, Hermione, have you achieved peace throughout the wizarding world yet?” Ginny asked with a grin, anxiously awaiting her response.

“Not yet, but I’ll be sure to give my favorite Daily Prophet reporter an exclusive when I do,” Hermione replied, beginning to feel a little more at ease.

“Well, now that we’re all reacquainted,” Mrs. Weasley began, “I do hope you’ll join us for dinner after Ron’s match, Hermione. I’m sure you have plenty of catching up to do with Ron and Ginny, and I won’t take ‘no’ for an answer.”

Hermione considered turning her down for one brief moment, but then she spied the look on Ginny’s face. She wasn’t sure what to make of it, but she knew Ginny was dying to tell her something. From the look in her eyes, it was important.

“I’d be glad to, Mrs. Weasley,” Hermione replied, noticing a smile come across Ginny’s face.

The four of them began walking to their seats on the other side of the pitch. Hermione and Ginny trailed behind Mr. and Mrs. Weasley slightly, catching up on each other’s lives over the last year. Both left out details they were sure would come up later.

As Hermione and Ginny reached the steps that led to their seats, Hermione broke the silence that had ensued after a particularly funny story involving Professor Snape and some bewitched mistletoe.

“Ginny, I have something really important to talk to you about. Now really isn’t the time, but we really need to talk when we get back to the Burrow,” Hermione said, noticing the look of understanding on Ginny’s face.

“I know,” Ginny replied, unable to think of anything witty to say. “Let’s just try to keep our minds on Ron for now. He is the reason we’re here, after all.”

They sat down next to each other in their seats, ready to cheer on Ron. He is the reason we’re here, Hermione thought, remembering Ginny’s words. Almost immediately, the announcer introduced the team the Cannons would be playing: Puddlemere United. They were all young witches and wizards, all of whom couldn’t be more than five years out of school. Hermione recognized Oliver Wood, a fellow Gryffindor who played Keeper for the House team when she first entered Hogwarts.

A few moments later, the Chudley Cannons were announced. They were quite different from the Puddlemere team in their appearance. Whereas Puddlemere was a very young team, the Cannons were much older, with the exception of Ron. In fact, Ron was easily the youngest player on the team. Hermione’s eyes fell upon the Cannons’ Seeker, who looked as if he would fall asleep if given the chance.

Hermione tried her hardest to keep her mind on the game once the balls were released, but it proved to be a difficult task. She was impressed at how well Ron was doing. Oliver Wood was a handful as well, and half an hour into the game, the score was tied 20-20.

The lack of scoring made it possible for Hermione’s mind to wander, mostly at how to approach her discussion with Ginny at the Burrow. She wasn’t worried, but she wanted to be truthful with Ginny. The last thing she wanted to do was hurt her feelings.

A few minutes later, a roar broke out in the crowd. The Puddlemere Seeker was going after the Snitch, which oddly enough was hovering about two feet above the Cannons’ Seeker. The game stopped completely so the other players could watch, and the Cannons’ players, including Ron, were trying to get their Seeker’s attention in hopes it would lead to a victory. They finally got his attention, but by the time he looked up, his opponent was zooming by, the Golden Snitch grasped firmly in his hand.

Apparently, the Chudley Cannons lost many games in a similar fashion. By signing Ron as Keeper, they didn’t lose as often, but when they did it was outrageous.

*****************************************

The smell inside the Burrow let Hermione know she was home once again. The Weasleys were her family, simply because she was always welcome. The house was marinated with the aroma of roast and potatoes, as well as Mrs. Weasley’s famous apple pie.

Dinner was an experience Hermione never thought possible at the Burrow. There were only five settings at the table, a result of changing lives. Mealtime discussion consisted of many different topics, including Hermione’s job, life at Hogwarts after the “Wonder Trio,” and the many woes of the Chudley Cannons. Hermione found it interesting that no one mentioned Harry’s name directly, and wondered if Ron had told them to avoid that topic of conversation.

Silence fell over them as they finished eating. Ginny began glancing at Ron, then at Hermione.

“Hermione, would you mind helping me pick out an outfit for my first day at the Prophet? First impressions are important, you know,” Ginny said lightly. She already had her outfit taken care of, but it seemed like a good way to excuse themselves from the table.

The two friends walked up to Ginny’s room, which remained largely unchanged since Hermione first stepped in it seven years ago. It was somehow cozier now, but Hermione couldn’t quite figure out why. Perhaps it was just clean.

Ginny led Hermione into her room and shut the door. The shy, quiet girl Hermione was friends with was gone. In front of her now was a bold seventeen-year-old, sitting in her desk chair backwards, arms leaning against the back of the chair.

“OK, Granger. Something is bothering you, so spill.”

Hermione eyes became wide with shock and her mouth gaped open. The only people that ever called her by her last name were her professors and Draco Malfoy.

“I-I’m sure Ron told you about the letter he got from Harry yesterday,” Hermione muttered, unsure of how to collect the thoughts in her head into words.

“Yeah, he did. And you’re worried how I fit into all of this, aren’t you?”

Hermione was now speechless. Clearly she had underestimated Ginny. She shook her head in awe, realizing Ginny knew more than she let on earlier.

“Hermione, I’ve been out of the picture for three years now,” Ginny continued, slowly returning to the shy person Hermione remembered. “Harry and I had a good time while we were together, but we were together for all the wrong reasons. I was more interested in ‘The Boy Who Lived’ than I was Harry Potter, the person. And he was repressing feelings that were developing for you.”

“Was that why you decided to break up, after realizing all of this?” Hermione asked, now able to find her voice.

“I wish it was that easy, but really it wasn’t.” Ginny thought back to the evening her and Harry broke up. The break-up was mutual, just as they told their friends, but both had agreed to stay quiet about the incident that would prove embarrassing for both. “Let’s just say I realized he had feelings for you.”

Hermione noticed Ginny’s eyes dart towards the floor during her last sentence. Ginny was leaving something out. She watched as Ginny’s face became beet red and began to fidget with the chair. Whatever Ginny was hiding, it was painful for her.

Hermione moved her chair from next to the bed over to where Ginny was sitting. The question had to be asked, for her peace of mind if nothing else.

“Ginny, do you still have feelings for Harry?” The words escaped Hermione sheepishly, not sure if she wanted to hear the answer.

“NO!” Ginny replied immediately, her head snapping up to look directly at Hermione. “Harry and I are friends now and nothing more. Colin and I are perfectly happy together.”

“Colin? You mean Colin Creevey?” Hermione was again in some form of shock. She wasn’t prepared for this, but it did change everything.

“Yes, Colin Creevey. We’ve been together since the beginning of our seventh year. We have a lot in common, not including Harry, and he’ll be working at the Daily Prophet as a photographer. Once I got him to stop talking about Harry non-stop, we hit it off.”

Ginny was now smiling from ear to ear. She sat up tall in her chair, no longer worried about the past. That part of her life was over. Now she needed to help Hermione with her future.

“He really does love you, Hermione. And judging by your actions, you love him, too. I’m just a piece of his life. You are his life. I could never compare to you, and I’m okay with that.”

A single tear ran down Hermione’s face as she pondered what Ginny said. He is my life, she thought.

Ginny stood up and gave Hermione a comforting hug.

“You and Harry are two of a kind, you know,” Ginny began, as Hermione looked up to her, “You put the welfare of others ahead of yourselves. As much as it is appreciated, it’s time you do something for you. Now let’s go get a piece of that pie before Dad and Ron eat it all.”

Hermione stood up and followed Ginny downstairs to the kitchen, feeling better about the whole situation. She wasn’t quite sure now why she was so worried. Harry loved her, and she loved Harry. None of her friends questioned it, so why did she?

The overall tone during dessert was different from dinner. Hermione caught Ron sneaking a worried glance her way, but she smiled to calm his worries. The tension between her and Ginny was lightened as well, and they were now able to joke around and giggle like the teenage girls they were.

After more discussion following dessert, Hermione thanked the Weasleys once again for dinner. Ginny gave her a long hug, once more telling her not to worry about her non-existent feelings for Harry. As she reached the door, Ron stopped her and pulled her aside.

“I’ll stop by after I get back from Harry’s place. I’m sure he’ll swear me to secrecy, but I can at least tell you what to expect, and what not to expect. Try not to worry, Hermione. The worst is behind you.”

Hermione wrapped one arm around Ron’s side and thanked him for everything. She figured he was the one who suggested she come for dinner. He was also the one who tipped off Ginny about her and Harry’s relationship and how it would worry Hermione. For someone who annoyed her to no ends, Ron was making up for it now.

Thank you everyone for the reviews! I really enjoy hearing your comments. I’d like to remind you all that the majority of this was written pre-OotP, but you’ll be able to tell when it changes because you’ll see references to things that happen in book 5.

So you finally get to see Harry this chapter, so I hope you’ll get a sense of what he’s been through. Hopefully by the time I have these back-chapters posted I will have the one I’m working on now finished. Enjoy this chapter.

*******

The pale blue house at the end of the road slowly came into view as Ron walked down the street of Godric’s Hollow. The house was situated in the corner of a dead end street, and featured a large field surrounded by trees that sat next to the house and wrapped around the backyard.

Ron stood in front of the house for a moment before walking up the sidewalk to the door. Flashbacks from their friendship flooded his thoughts, and he reflected on how much they had changed since that first ride on the Hogwarts Express. He couldn’t remember how many times they’d almost been expelled from school, how many points they’d lost Gryffindor, or how many dirty names they’d called Snape. They had laughs, fights, and emotional moments they swore not to tell anyone about. They had sat up into the early hours of the morning making up answers for Divination, talking Quidditch strategy, and telling each other about the girl they had a crush on.

But just as Ron could look back on his years at Hogwarts and remember all the good times, there were just as many dark times to even them out. Mountain trolls, secret Chambers, deaths of loved ones…. these moments seemed to come as a package deal if you were friends with Harry Potter. He was The Boy Who Lived and vanquisher of all things evil, not to mention the center of attention wherever he went. To Ron and a small group of people though, he was Harry. Insecure in his abilities, shy, and extremely stubborn.

Walking toward Harry’s new home turned out to be more of a chore than Ron expected. His nerves were beginning to flare up, reminiscent of the feeling he usually got when studying for exams. At first he questioned the reason of his nerves, but reality hit him like a ton of bricks. Harry had cut himself off from the world, including his friends. Ron couldn’t help being disturbed that Harry wouldn’t share his pain with his friends and let them help him. He’d shut them out before, but never for this long. Harry hadn’t even told them where he was, which hurt even more. Ron was pissed at Harry, but more than anything he was worried that Harry’s unfortunate fame had pushed him over the edge.

Approaching the two small steps leading to the door, he stopped and looked around the neighborhood. Serene didn’t begin to explain it. The sun was just beginning to hide behind the trees, signaling the beginning of the weekend. He would leave on Sunday evening, hopefully with more answers than questions. It didn’t seem like a lot of time to catch up with your best friend after not seeing him for a year, but it would have to do. They were adults now, which included adult responsibilities. And right now, his first responsibility was to Harry.

A few deep breaths prepared Ron for the challenge in front of him as he knocked on the door three times. While waiting for Harry to answer, he began to run possible reasons for seclusion through his head. The most obvious was Sirius’ death. He was the closest thing Harry ever had to a father, and Ron could only imagine how much it hurt him to find out that Sirius had been captured and given the Dementor’s Kiss after being on the run for four years. The details were sketchy at best, but Ron figured Sirius’ death and Harry’s defeat of Voldemort happened within days of each other.

The door opened and there stood Harry, looking almost exactly the same as the last time Ron saw him: jet-black hair that stood in all directions, wire-rimmed glasses, and a frame that showed no signs of the scrawny eleven-year-old he met eight years ago on the Hogwarts Express. As much as he looked the same, though, there was something different about him, an air about him that took a minute to pick up on. And then it hit him. The look in his eyes was the same look he would get after being up all night having nightmares. The bags under his eyes almost made him look like a deranged lunatic, and now were no different. Except this time the lunatic looked like he hadn’t slept in a year.

“Are you just going to stand on the porch all weekend, or would you like to come inside?” Ron jerked his head to realize Harry had just spoken to him, breaking his obvious stare. A small smile escaped him, and he followed Harry into the house, setting his bag down in the foyer. They stood in silence for a moment, and Ron took the opportunity to look around the ground level. Boxes were still scattered here and there, but the atmosphere was relaxing, as if he’d visited many times before.

The silence would have gone on longer, but Ron noticed he wasn’t the only one staring. Harry was standing there watching him with a smile he usually only used on Christmas.

“What?” Ron asked.

“I’m just really glad you’re here,” Harry replied as he threw his arm around Ron’s shoulder, smirking for what Ron figured was the first time in months. “Well then, fancy a tour of my humble abode?”

Ron simply nodded as they began walking through the ground level of the house. Moving left from the foyer was a sitting room. Two sofas and three chairs were situated around a fireplace that sat on the far wall, accented with end tables and a large coffee table in the center. Pictures were scattered throughout the room, and Ron mused that most of them were of him, Harry, and Hermione. As they moved towards the back of the house, they walked into a larger sitting room, where many boxes were scattered throughout the floor, most of them containing books. A fireplace sat of the left wall of this room as well, and a desk sat against a large picture window on the back wall overlooking the back yard.

“I haven’t really made up my mind about this room yet, but I’m leaning towards turning it into a library. You know, putting up some shelves and maybe a couple of chairs to put in front of the fireplace, “ Harry said. These were the most words he had strung together since Ron arrived, a fact that didn’t go unnoticed by Ron. He couldn’t be sure, but Ron also swore he saw Harry smile at the mention of turning the room into a library.

They next moved off to the right into what Ron was sure was the biggest kitchen he’d ever seen, besides Hogwarts, of course. The tiling on the floor looked brand new, and the island and countertops were a light marble, making the kitchen the lightest room in the house. Harry opened a sliding door and went out onto the patio, signaling Ron to follow him. The backyard was massive, surrounded by trees on every side. Ron mused that it even looked big enough for a Quidditch match. Good thing I brought my broom, he thought. They walked around the yard for a moment, enjoying the warm summer evening, before heading back into the house.

On the other side of the kitchen, Harry opened a door and they went down a couple of stairs to find a huge room with no coloring whatsoever. The floor was concrete, and the walls were very plain. Harry must have noticed the perplexed look on Ron’s face, as he spoke up to answer the questions.

“It’s a garage, big enough for three cars. I can’t decide what to do with it, so right now it’s just storage.”

Ron simply nodded as he noticed the boxes and trunks throughout the room. Soon enough they walked back up the stairs and into the kitchen once again. This time they entered the last room on the ground floor, which appeared to be a formal dining room. A crystal chandelier hung over the top of the table, which sat in the middle of the room.

They continued to walk in silence through the house, except for Harry giving brief descriptions of the rooms and Ron nodding and making brief comments. Having seen the whole first floor of the house, they returned to the foyer through a doorway in the formal dining room. Harry grabbed Ron’s bag and began to walk upstairs, motioning Ron to follow.

The stairs and the floors were polished hardwood, but it appeared that each of the four bedrooms he could see from the top of the stairs were carpeted. Two of the bedrooms were to the left of the stairs, with one on each side of the hallway. As they went into the room on the right, Harry set Ron’s bag down on the bed and pointed out the walk-in closet. This must be my room, he thought. Harry then walked out of the room, Ron following close behind. Another bedroom was on the right side of the hall past the stairs, with Harry’s bedroom sitting at the end of the hall. It was easily the largest bedroom, possibly bigger than two of the smaller bedrooms put together. It also had a walk-in closet, though bigger than the one in Ron’s room, and a private bathroom big enough to get lost in. Many times Ron opened his mouth to comment, but he changed his mind when he noticed the look on Harry’s face. He was now smiling constantly, and appeared to be happy for the first time in a long while.

“Well, I think that’s about it. Sorry that I didn’t give you a more detailed tour, but I figured most of the rooms were self-explanatory. I’m also afraid that my skills as an interior designer, well, suck.” Harry chuckled at his own words, causing Ron to burst into laughter as well. “I’ll give you some time to get settled in your room. Come down to the kitchen when you’re done and we’ll have a bite to eat.”

Ron walked back down to his room and began to unpack his bag as Harry sped down the stairs, presumably to the kitchen. He only had one bag since he would only be staying a couple of days, but Ron took the opportunity to think about Harry’s behavior so far and what it meant overall. Harry’s mood did seem to be improving, and he even cracked a few jokes along the way. But something was different about Harry, even though Ron couldn’t put his finger on it right now. What, or who, brought about this change? The answer to the question hit Ron suddenly. Without noticing what he was doing, Ron had avoided all mention of Hermione’s name thus far, as had Harry. Then again, Harry hadn’t done much talking at all.

***********************

Ron sat with Harry at the small table in the kitchen, eating in silence. Every minute he would look up at Harry, open his mouth to speak, and then look back down at his plate after losing his nerve. He wanted to bring up the subject of Hermione, but it just didn’t seem like the right time. As they finished their meal of sandwiches and iced pumpkin juice, Ron decided to express another concern he had.

“Harry, I’m really sorry about Sirius. He was the closest link you had to your parents, and I know how much you loved him. But it’s occurred to me that you may blame yourself in some way.”

Harry stopped dead in his tracks at the sink, holding himself up with his arms. Ron couldn’t see the look on his face, but he could tell that Harry’s face was flushed red. He stood in silence for a few minutes with his back to Ron before finally turning around, his face soaked with tears.

“I am to blame. He was only there to help me. I was the cause of his problems from day one!” Anger was now flowing through Harry. He stared at Ron, tears rolling down his face, but the rage was driving him at this moment. Ron rose from his seat in response.

“You can’t honestly believe that, Harry,” he bellowed back. And then words came from his mouth he would immediately regret saying. “When are you going to learn that not everything is about you? Just as you can’t be everyone’s savior, you also can’t blame yourself for everything that goes wrong. Shit happens, Harry. You can’t bury yourself for a year every time someone’s taken from you.”

“Shut the hell up, Ron! You don’t know what it’s like to be me. I am expected to be everyone’s savior, whether I like it or not. I didn’t ask for any of this…” Harry trailed off, the emotion of the moment taking over.

“You know, Harry, you’re right,” Ron barked back, “I don’t know what it’s like to be you. It’s not like I’m your best friend or anything, then maybe I could understand. But since I’m just the ‘Famous Harry Potter’s loyal sidekick,’ I guess I’m not entitled to the inner workings of your mind.”

They stood staring at each other with angry eyes for a few minutes, unable to speak. The tension was thick, and both of them appeared ready to stand their ground. Finally, Ron dropped his eyes to the floor and began to walk towards the stairs. “It’s been a long day, Harry. I’m going to bed.”

As Ron was washing up, he began to think about the events that transpired in the kitchen. The evening started out as being relaxing, but went steadily downhill from there. He thought about what he said to Harry. They were cruel words, but they needed to be said.

As Ron was returning to his room, he stopped at the stairs when he heard a noise. Listening carefully, he realized it was Harry. Ron had never heard him cry before; Harry had always been a pillar of strength, even when it would be easy to break down. It was at that moment that Ron realized just how much Harry was affected by Sirius’ death. He walked back to his room, having decided to apologize to Harry in the morning.

**************************

Harry sat in the front sitting room crying loudly. Ron can probably hear, he thought. But he didn’t care at the moment. Ron’s words really hit him hard. Did he really only see himself as my sidekick? Harry wished he could tell him everything that happened to Sirius, but it was still too painful to talk about. A short time later he walked up to his bedroom, having decided to explain his reasoning to Ron in the morning.

It was almost 10:30 before Harry woke the next morning. He spent half the night trying to plan out his apology to Ron for his outburst last night, and hadn’t fallen asleep until 2 a.m. When he did sleep, it was peaceful for the first time in over a year. He had youthful energy again, something that shouldn’t be lacking in an eighteen-year-old.

He went downstairs and realized that Ron must still be in bed as he walked into the kitchen for a glass of orange juice. He tried to pick up the book he had been reading before Ron arrived yesterday afternoon, but his mind kept traveling back to their fight yesterday. He was finally starting to understand what Ron meant last night, or at least he thought he understood. It wasn’t so much that Ron felt like his sidekick, but instead he felt betrayed that Harry couldn’t confide in him. The realization almost made Harry break down again, but he was forced to pull it together when Ron walked into the kitchen.

He sat down at the opposite end of the table from Harry, looking just as miserable as he felt. After spying Harry crying last night, Ron laid awake for what seemed like hours, trying to understand. Finally, he came to the conclusion that only Harry could make him understand.

Harry got up from the table and took his glass to the sink. As he reached the refrigerator, he caught Ron’s eye. “Would you like something to eat?” It wasn’t what he originally planned to say, but it was a start.

“I could go for a glass of that orange juice.”

Harry began to open the refrigerator, but stopped and turned back towards the table. He tensed up for a brief moment, then relaxed and began to speak. “Ron, I owe you an apology.”

“Harry, I,” Ron interjected. Harry cut him off, though, putting his hand up to silence him.

“Please, I need you to hear me out.” Ron nodded. “First of all, you never have been or never will be my sidekick. Second, I realize you feel betrayed in some way because I didn’t confide in you, and as much as I wish I had a good explanation, I don’t. And while I realize that I shouldn’t feel responsible for Sirius’ death, the fact remains that I do. I can’t help it.” He paused for a moment, but started again when he noticed Ron was about to make a comment. “Hold on, I’m not finished yet. I know you have tons of questions to ask about what I’ve been doing and where I’ve been the last year. I promise that you’ll eventually know everything, but the truth is that I still don’t have everything sorted out myself. And I know this may sound a little déjà vu, but I have to work this out on my own.”

“Are you finished now?”

“Yes.”

“Good, now you get to listen to me without interruption.” Ron paused for a moment, and Harry nodded in agreement. Harry was now seated back at the table, only now they were sitting next to each other. “I owe you an apology for some of the things I said last night. Actually, for just about everything I said last night. I’ve never for one moment felt like your sidekick, but understand that it does hurt when you shut your friends out the way you have. All you had to do was tell us you needed some time alone, and we would have been happy just to know you were alright.” Ron stopped at these words after noticing that Harry was staring at the table, possibly realizing for the first time the effect his absence had on his friends. “Harry, I’m sorry if I sounded harsh and insensitive last night. After seven years as your best friend, I should have known better than to suggest that you saw yourself as some kind of savior. If those nasty Muggles you lived with did anything right, they made you humble.”

They sat at the table in silence for many minutes, mulling over what the other said in detail. Harry felt extremely guilty for not having enough consideration to tell his friends where he was the last year. If he was being entirely truthful with himself, he’d only originally planned to stay away for a few weeks, but once he had time to himself, he had retreated into what he could only describe as a time of self-reflection.

“So can I have that orange juice now, or do I have to complain to the manager?” Ron asked. He had started to notice that Harry was looking detached, just as he had yesterday afternoon, and Ron wanted the rest of their weekend to be enjoyable. Harry looked up and smiled, then walked to the refrigerator and poured him a glass of orange juice. He handed it to Ron, and got a devilish grin on his face.

“It’s a nice day. Why don’t we go out in the backyard and do some flying? You know, just for fun.”

“Sounds good to me. But I don’t want to hear any complaining when I kick your ass in a race. Got it?”

“Oh, please! No offense, Ron, but there’s a reason you’re a Keeper.”

They both laughed light-heartedly. Everyone and their brother knew that Harry was the best Seeker Hogwarts had ever seen, and therefore was one of the fastest wizards on a broomstick. It also didn’t hurt that the Firebolt Harry owned was still considered one of the best brooms on the market. Ron went up to his room to grab his broom, a Nimbus Two Thousand and One (more than adequate for a Keeper), and met Harry back in the kitchen.

Flying in Harry’s backyard turned out to be a pleasant experience. Harry challenged Ron to a race around the edge of the trees that enclosed the backyard, but Ron lost almost before they started. His pride only slightly hurt, Ron then challenged Harry to try and score a goal against him. As it turned out, Harry was much better at catching Snitches than throwing a Quaffle. Ron found it amusing that he was finally better than Harry at some skill, a fact Harry was more than willing to admit.

From time to time they would just hover in the air and talk about Quidditch. One moment they would be recalling some of the more memorable times they had as teammates, and the next moment Ron would be going on about the Cannons. On more than one occasion, Ron had Harry laughing so hard about the lump that was their Seeker that Harry almost fell off his broom.

Late in the afternoon, they finally decided to go inside and rest. Ron was happy with how the day had gone so far, once they had apologized to each other and cleared the air. His only hope was that it would last until tomorrow, when he had to rejoin his team in Chudley. He also planned to stop by Hermione’s place and let her know how the weekend went. Oh shit, Hermione! He’d completely forgotten about her after last night, and he had made a promise to himself to get some kind of insight from Harry on the whole situation. In fact, it was almost a mission to make sure that Harry and Hermione got together. If that meant being the sensitive best friend, a title he wasn’t exactly comfortable with, then that’s what he would do.

**********************************

Harry walked around the kitchen getting a meal together while Ron took a shower upstairs. He felt happy for the first time in a long while, but he was still missing something. At first he couldn’t quite put his finger on what it was, but the answer flooded his thoughts when his eye caught his novel on the counter. Hermione. He’d been able to go almost the whole weekend without desperately missing her, but right now, standing alone with only his thoughts as company, he couldn’t help it.

Once he silently spoke her name, it was all over. He slumped down into a chair at the table and buried his face in his hands. The question he asked himself was the same one he had asked a month ago. If I had stayed with her that night, would she be here with me right now? He knew it sounded stupid, but his mind was racing trying to make sense of these thoughts. I wouldn’t be surprised if she just comes here to swear at me. What kind of a guy tells his best friend that he’s in love with her and then leaves for a year without so much as a hello? I need her so much, but I’m afraid I might have scared her away.

If it hadn’t been for Ron appearing in the doorway to the kitchen, Harry probably would have stayed glued to that same chair for the rest of the evening. As it turned out, Ron found him sitting there looking horrible, with tears forming in the corners of his eyes.

“Are you okay, Harry?” he asked.

Harry looked up and saw the worry in Ron’s eyes. There was no talking his way out of this one. Ron had explained to him by owl why he was coming separately from Hermione, so Harry knew Ron was aware of his feelings for their best friend. He sighed heavily, ran his shaking hands through his hair, and looked at Ron like a lost puppy. “I miss her.”

Here we go, Ron thought. He sat next to Harry and nodded. He’d been planning what to say for weeks, but decided to give Harry a chance to speak first.

“Bloody hell, I miss her,” he began, sitting up and looking straight up at the ceiling. Suddenly, his eyes focused on Ron and he had a horrible thought. “Please tell me she’s not just coming here to tell me off. I don’t think I could handle it.”

“I wouldn’t say that, but you’re going to have to do a good bit of explaining, I’m sure.”

“I figured that much. I’m prepared for the explaining, but I’m worried that I’ve ruined any chance I may have had for us to be together.”

“Listen up, Harry. What you need to know is that Hermione has been absolutely miserable since you left. She worries about you every second of every day. She’s also afraid, Harry. She didn’t say that, but she didn’t have to, because I could see it in her eyes. I’m not entirely sure what exactly happened between the two of you that night, but I think it’s been haunting her in some way.”

Harry was staring at the table, again feeling guilty about leaving her alone that night. “I pushed her away, Ron. And believe me, it was the last thing I wanted to do. My mind was telling me to go, but the rest of me wanted to stay more than anything. Now, it seems the only thing I can think about lately is how different everything might be if I had stayed.”

“She asked you to stay? In her room? Alone?” Ron was shocked. They couldn’t possibly be talking about the same person. He dated Hermione for three months before she would even let him kiss her, and before they could go any further, it had become clear to Ron that she was interested in someone else.

Harry just shook his head. He knew he had witnessed a side of Hermione that she never let anyone see, and he had only seen it once. He quickly remembered all the different emotions in her eyes that night, but the one that stood out the most was deep affection.

“You still with me, Harry?” Ron asked while waving a hand in front of his face. Harry jumped back to the present and shifted in his chair.

“Sorry, I can’t help it.”

“I understand, Harry. But seriously, I need you to be a stranger to me for a few minutes.”

Harry nodded, but he was visibly confused by what Ron just said.

“Hermione is my best friend, as well as my ex-girlfriend. We’ve been through everything together and I love her as a member of my family. I believe you when you say that you love her, but if you hurt her, I’ll hunt you down and hex you until you beg for mercy.”

“The last thing I want to do is hurt Hermione, Ron.”

“I know that, but you’re toeing the line right now, mate.”

“Thanks for the heads up. Are you my friend again?”

“Yes. Why?”

“You’ll never believe what Hermione’s ex-boyfriend just said to me. He actually thinks he can hex me.”

Ron laughed off Harry’s attempt at a joke and punched him on the shoulder. “Asshole.”

*********************************

The rest of the evening was pleasant. After supper, they went into what Ron was sure would eventually be a library and played chess for the majority of the evening. Harry almost beat him once, but only because Ron was trying out a new strategy for the first time.

They talked about Quidditch, and Ron tried to talk Harry into entering the free agent draft in the fall. Harry admitted that he missed playing competitively, but was unsure about being in the public eye again. He finally agreed to at least think about it, given that he would eventually have to find a job anyway.

Adult conversation was avoided the majority of the evening. No talk of the future was allowed, and the past was only discussed when it ended happily. Therefore, significant time was spent reminiscing about the many times the three of them had sent Draco back to the Slytherin table with his tail between his legs.

When Ron gathered his bag in the foyer the next morning, he did so with mixed emotions. The verbal assault on Harry Friday night was the worst he’d ever given. On the other hand, they were able to apologize to each other and spend the rest of the weekend in good spirits. He even had the opportunity to give his “protective ex-boyfriend/best friend” speech. He knew Harry took it seriously, even though he joked about it.

Harry met him at the door just before he left and put his arm around his shoulder. The smirk on his face was unmistakable. “So which comes first, Quidditch practice or a visit to Hermione’s flat?”

“You think you’re so smart, don’t you? For your information, I have to go back to the Burrow and get my practice robes first. Depending on the time, I’ll either stop at Hermione’s before or after practice.”

“Ha! I knew it. Well, could you do me a huge favor and give her this?” He pulled a rolled up piece of parchment out of his pocket and handed it to him. He had stayed up half the night writing down some of his thoughts, and he felt that sending it with Ron would add a personal touch.

“No problem, mate. Take care of yourself, and remember what I said. You both deserve some happiness, and I hope you can find it with each other.”

Ron left then, Apparated back to the Burrow, and went directly up to his room. He was happy to see that the house was empty. He needed some quiet time to sort out his thoughts. His best friends were in love. With each other. Somehow he always knew it would end up this way. What he didn’t count on, however, was being a mediator between them.

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.

*************

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.

*************************

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.

****************************

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 . . .

**********

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?

I know, that was a big cliffie. I almost gave my beta a heart attack when she read it. Thank you again for all the reviews. There is nothing but good ole H/Hr in this chapter, which is good since they’re the stars of the show. I have two more chapters after this one already finished, and then my posting will slow down. I’m working on the new one right now, and hope to have it finished by Christmas.

********

Hermione had set her bags down on the front porch after knocking on the door and turned around to look around the neighborhood. It was a warm Saturday morning, and the neighborhood was calm and quiet. In fact, Hermione couldn’t really imagine it being anything but calm. Soon she heard the door opening and turned around just as it opened.

When she saw him standing there, her heart rate increased and her breath hitched. He looked better than she imagined. Ron had made a comment that he looked sleep-deprived, but Hermione couldn’t see a trace of it anywhere. And now, as he stood ogling her, she felt her stomach give a familiar lurch.

Hermione wanted to hold him and never let go. She even thought about kissing him just from being happy to see him, but she held back. That was thanks to the feeling in the pit of her stomach that told her not to be so forgiving. She had even considered breaking his nose with her fist, but what good would that do? She would feel better, but then Harry would be in pain, and that was a sight she’d rather not see.

Harry looked back at the sight of Hermione standing at the door, and was overcome with emotions. She was more beautiful than he remembered. He was vaguely aware that he was staring, but he couldn’t help thinking about the last time he had seen her. There had been pain in her eyes that night. A pain he only now recognized as fear of losing him. The pain was gone now, but was instead replaced with a myriad of feelings. Was it just him, or was she contemplating slugging him? She hadn’t done it yet, so he figured that was a good sign. The thought brought a smile to his face, and he was able to find words for the first time since she showed up five minutes ago.

“I see you found the place.”

Hermione seemed relieved that he had spoken first. She smiled and replied in a somewhat sarcastic tone. “I don’t see how I could mistake ‘large blue house at the end of the street.’”

“No, I suppose not.” Harry reached down and picked up her bags and showed her in the door. After setting them down in the foyer and closing the door, he turned her around and looked into her eyes. “I’m glad you’re here. You have no idea…”

“How much I’ve missed you.” Hermione had cut him off and finished his sentence down to the last word. She then wrapped her arms around his neck and hugged him deeply. His arms slid around her waist to draw her closer.

They stood in silence, each of them content in the other’s presence. When Harry drew back and looked into Hermione’s eyes once again, he froze. There was no doubt in his mind what he wanted to do more than anything at that moment, and it took all of his willpower not to do it. The last thing he wanted to do was scare her away. Instead, he smiled at her and took her hands in his, making her smile as well. “Let me show you around, and then I’ll give you some time to get settled.”

Hermione nodded, and Harry led her through the house, their hands still locked together. It was a small showing of affection, but one that Hermione was content with at the moment. She couldn’t deny the fact that it made her feel safe, even though she wasn’t in danger. Harry had always had that effect on her.

“And this is the library,” Harry said as they entered the room. He immediately felt Hermione’s hand leave his and looked up to see her face. The small smile that had resided there since he had answered the door was now gone, and was replaced by a mixture of shock and laughter. Harry gently stood in front of her and grasped her wrist. “What’s the matter, Mione?”

“Oh, nothing. But I think I need to find out if hell has frozen over.”

“Why do you say that?” Harry asked, as a small chuckle escaped Hermione.

“I simply never thought I would see the day that Harry Potter would have a library.”

Harry smiled and felt relieved that she found it humorous. Now that he really thought about it, the fact that he had a library in his house was quite laughable. But he couldn’t very well tell Hermione the subliminal purpose that the library held right now, so he quickly came up with another explanation.

“Yeah, well, when I moved in I quickly became aware of just how many books I owned. I’m quite certain that I won’t have a use for Unfogging the Future any time soon, but one never knows when they’ll need to find a good cleaning spell.”

“Really, Harry, if you paid attention in class, you would know that cleaning spells are covered in Standard Book of Spells, Chapter 12. I believe they start on page 250.”

“I tried to pay attention, but there were too many distractions. Namely the one that sat on the left side of me,” Harry said with a devilish grin. He wondered how long it would take her to realize what he was trying to say.

“That’s no excuse, Harry. I’m actually quite surprised you—wait a minute. I sat to the left of you in Charms.” The smile that had crept onto her face from her usual banter with Harry was now gone. He was subtly letting her know just how deep his feelings ran. Hermione didn’t know what else to say.

Harry leaned in closer before whispering in her ear, “I must say, you were a wonderful distraction.” And with that, he led her into the kitchen.

*****************************

After Harry finished showing Hermione the rest of the ground floor, he took her upstairs and showed her the guest rooms, as well as the master bedroom. He had carried her bags upstairs for her, and deposited them in the guest room just off from his room.

“Here you go, Hermione. Let me know if you need anything. I’ll just be downstairs,” Harry said as he began to walk out. But just as he reached the door, Hermione’s voice stopped him.

“Harry, will you stay? I need to talk to you, and I’d rather get it out of the way now and not have it hanging over us all week,” Hermione asked, looking at him with hope. Harry didn’t hesitate, instead going back into her room and leading her over to the squishy armchair that sat across the room from the bed.

Once he was seated, he motioned for her to sit on his lap. Hermione paused, not sure if sitting on Harry’s lap was the best idea right now. More than anything, she was afraid of losing her focus and not saying the words she had been practicing for over a week.

“I promise I won’t bite, Mione,” Harry said, almost pleading her to join him. He held out his hand, and she accepted it while gently sliding onto his lap and getting comfortable.

“I know, Harry. It’s just…” she began as her voice trailed off. She was afraid to look at him. He seemed to have no problem showing her how much he loved her, so why was she having such a hard time. She loved him, so why was it so hard?

“I’m not making you uncomfortable, am I?” Harry asked, trying to catch her eye once again. He gently wrapped his left arm around her waist, and was relieved that she didn’t pull away.

“That’s not it at all. It’s just weird for me to see you acting this way. Not that I don’t enjoy it, but after seven years of friendship, I find it unbelievable at times. The fact that you’re so much more to me than a friend to me is going to take some time, but it’s time I’m more than willing to spend. I don’t know that I’ve ever really told you that.”

Hermione was relaxing in his embrace now, and she slowly leaned back to rest her head on his shoulder. They sat in silence for a moment, until Harry sat his head up slightly and looked at her.

“Thank you for telling me. I’d be lying if I said that I didn’t get worried that I was scaring you away,” Harry began. “Can I tell you something now?” Hermione nodded, and he continued. “Looking back at everything that’s happened, I realize that I don’t deserve you being here right now. Wait, I’m not finished. I messed up big time by not telling you sooner how I felt about you. I messed up our friendship, not to mention our own lives in general. I honestly wouldn’t blame you if you wanted to walk out right now and forget any of this ever happened.

“I made a promise to myself while we were still in school that if we ever got together, that it would be forever. I would do whatever it takes to make sure that you were safe and that you would be happy. I realize now that parts of my plan were in direct conflict with each other. I kept you safe by staying away from you, but in doing that, you were miserable. I never want to see you sad, Mione, never. But there was one part of my promise that I’m keeping. You’ve been gracious enough to give me a second chance, despite the fact that I’ve been the world’s largest prat for the last four years. With that being said, I plan to make the most of this chance and make sure that you never once regret your decision.”

Hermione was truly touched by his words, and a single tear began to slowly run down her cheek. She looked into Harry’s eyes and sensed that he meant every word that he had said. That was when she noticed it. A tear had formed in his left eye, and she could tell that he was trying to hold it back. She slowly lifted her right arm from where it had been resting around his neck, and moved her thumb under his glasses to brush it away.

“It’s okay, Harry. Don’t hold it back.” She had half-expected him to break down, but instead he looked at her and covered the hand that was still on his cheek with his.

“Would it be terribly inappropriate if I kissed you right now?” he asked, almost whispering.

“If it is, I’m sure I would get over it.”

That was all the permission Harry needed, and he slowly pulled Hermione’s face down to his and kissed her gently. It was slow and methodical, as if they were both trying to commit this moment to memory. She shifted slightly, and wrapped her arms around his neck, while his arms found their way around her waist. Neither made an attempt to go any further than that. A short time later, they broke away and looked at each other.

“Are we okay?” Harry asked. Hermione blinked her eyes slowly and nodded. Somehow he knew that they would be just fine. “I’ll let you unpack.”

Hermione stood up and walked over to the bed to begin unpacking. When she noticed Harry leaving the room out of the corner of her eye, she called to him.

“Harry?”

“Yes, Mione?”

“I love you.”

Harry smiled at her from the doorway. It wasn’t the first time she’d said those words, but it was the first time he’d heard them. “I love you, too.”

******************************

Hermione had returned down to the kitchen after unpacking and getting settled in her room. Harry had fixed her a nice meal of baked chicken and potatoes, and they sat in the kitchen eating silently, unable to take their eyes off each other.

Once the dishes were cleaned and put away, she wandered into the library to survey the books Harry had collected. They were arranged meticulously, much to Hermione’s surprise. All their books from Hogwarts were on a shelf together, as were biographies and autobiographies, and fiction. After wandering around for half an hour, her eyes fell upon a book that almost seemed hidden. Once she read the title, she knew why: The Rise and Fall of He-Who-Must-Not-Be Named by Bernard Hawkgaup. Hermione took the book, crawled up on the couch that sat in front of the fireplace, and began reading.

When Harry came up behind the couch almost four hours later, he couldn’t help but notice what Hermione was reading. The heading on the particular page she was currently reading was “The Boy Who Lived.” She had yet to notice he was standing behind her, so when he knelt down and placed his head right next to hers, she jumped.

“Learn anything new?” he asked. Realizing what she was reading, she quickly closed the book and looked at her watch in hopes of changing the subject.

“Look at the time. I can’t believe I spent the whole afternoon in here reading.”

“Hermione, it’s okay. I saw what you were reading, and it doesn’t bother me. Half the things I know about my parents I actually learned from that book. It’s the product of everyone trying to protect me. When in doubt, look it up in a book. You taught me that.”

Hermione smiled at Harry’s attempts at flattery. In reality, they weren’t just attempts; he was doing a good job, and it almost made her swoon. Maybe she would be okay if she didn’t look directly at him. She just couldn’t help it, though. If there was one thing Hermione couldn’t get enough of, it was Harry looking at her like that.

“I almost forgot,” Harry said, “I have something planned for tonight, so I came to tell you it will be ready in about half an hour.”

“Really? Do I need to change my clothes?”

“I would maybe put on a pair of jeans. It’s supposed to cool down later. Come down to the kitchen when you’re ready.”

Hermione agreed and went up to her room to change. What could he possibly have planned? There was no doubt they were going to be outside, but that didn’t really narrow down the possibilities. After changing into a pair of jeans and straightening her hair, she walked down the stairs and into the kitchen, where she saw Harry beaming at her.

“What are you up to, Harry?” she asked, and he simply walked across the kitchen to grasp her hand, making her even more curious.

“Just follow me.”

Harry took her out the back door and led her into the large clearing that was the backyard. He had set up what appeared to be a picnic. A large blanket was spread across the ground, and there were various foods mingled together with a few bottles of butterbeer.

“A picnic?” she asked, hoping she didn’t sound disappointed.

“Not just a picnic. A picnic at sunset, mixed with a bit of star gazing.”

“I see. And where exactly did you come up with such an idea?” she inquired, as they sat down on the blanket and was handed a butterbeer.

“A year of solitude makes a person think. This is a direct result of that thinking,” Harry replied. Hermione was now thoroughly intrigued.

“I’m not sure I follow you.”

Harry took her hand and rubbed his thumb over the back of it. Tonight was a big step in showing Hermione just how much he loved her, and he wanted everything to be perfect. The weather was nice enough to cooperate, and now it was up to him not to screw it up.

“I have a mental list of all the moments we missed out on because I was such a dunderhead. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve just wanted to sit out under the stars with you, happy just to be in your presence.”

“So is this number one on the list?”

“No, but it’s towards the top. I know we’ve sat out under the stars together before, but this is different. No secrets anymore. Ever.”

“That sounds good to me.”

They sat in silence while they ate, each stealing glances at the other from across the blanket, and not worried if the other caught them.

Hermione couldn’t help but feel like she was dreaming. She worried for so long about seeing Harry again and how she would handle it. But now that she was there and things were going so well, she wondered why she was worried in the first place. The kiss they shared earlier had swept away all frustrations she had, replacing them with an intense feeling of need. She looked over at him again, and she was certain that her knees would have buckled underneath her had she not already been sitting down. What amazed her the most though, was that all the adjectives she could think of to describe Harry didn’t do him justice. Handsome, adorable, charming, and loving weren’t enough. He was just Harry, and she wouldn’t have it any other way.

When they finished eating, Harry drew Hermione close to him to watch the sunset. It was getting cooler now, and she now knew why Harry suggested she wear jeans. She was currently sitting in front of Harry with her legs tucked under her. Their fingers were intertwined, and Harry’s arms were wrapped around Hermione’s waist as his head rested lightly on her shoulder. As the sun went down, a question formed in Hermione’s head, and she turned slightly to ask Harry.

“Why did you move here, Harry?”

“That’s a question I’m still asking myself. I don’t know really, it just felt right.”

Hermione turned to face him completely, while kneeling in front of him. “Doesn’t it bring back bad memories, though?”

“Mione, if there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that I can’t run from my problems. You know better than anyone that the memory of Voldemort killing my parents has haunted me for a long time. Moving here is a small step in reclaiming my life from that parasite. Just being in the same town makes me feel closer to my parents, like they’re watching over me. I refuse to be afraid of the future anymore, and to do that, I have to make peace with the past.”

Hermione squeezed his hand and wrapped her arms around his neck. In an instant, she brushed Harry’s hair to one side of his head, and traced his scar with her thumb. Harry closed his eyes at her actions, and just then he knew that there would never be anyone else. She knew him better than anyone else. She knew his fame, but didn’t care. To her, the Boy Who Lived didn’t exist, only Harry.

*****************************

The silence of that July evening was peaceful, and Harry wouldn’t have it any other way. He lay on that blanket in the backyard with Hermione nuzzled close to him, content to do nothing but stare at the stars. In his mind, he spoke to his parents and told them just how much he loved the girl next to him, even though he was sure they already knew.

I’m glad to hear that everyone is enjoying this story. It is actually the first fic I started writing, so the positive reinforcement from your peers is a good thing.

There is one more chapter after this one, and then you will be caught up. I’m currently working on a chapter, and I hope to have it done in the next couple of days so that no one will have to suffer through withdrawal.

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If it hadn’t been for Harry’s watch signaling midnight, he and Hermione would have spent the whole night in the backyard under the stars. As it was, Harry woke up with a smile on his face for the first time in a long while. That smile threatened to take over his entire body when he looked down and caught a glimpse of Hermione, her head nestled under his shoulder and her arm draped across his chest, sleeping peacefully. If it weren’t for the slight chill in the air, he would have been perfectly content to stay that way all night.

He gently reached over and nudged Hermione in an attempt to wake her. When she stirred and looked up at him with sleepy eyes, his heart smiled.

“Hermione, it’s after midnight. I think I should take you…I mean, we should go…”

She looked back at him with understanding, but couldn’t help laugh at him stumbling over his words. “I know what you mean, Harry.”

Once he had set the remnants of their earlier picnic in order, Harry slowly stood up and offered Hermione his hand. He pulled her up and into his embrace, where they stayed for a few moments before joining hands and walking silently into the kitchen and up the stairs. When they reached Hermione’s room, she leaned up against the door and pulled Harry’s hand gently to bring him closer before wrapping her arms around his neck.

“Thank you, Harry. I had a wonderful evening.”

“I’m glad to hear it.”

“So, are you going to tell me what’s number one on the list?”

“No, but I will say that when the time comes, there will be no doubt in your mind about what number one is,” he replied, a devilish smile forming on his face.

Hermione looked back at him with a devilish smile of her own. “I’m looking forward to it.” Her fingers were gently running through Harry’s hair, and a realization hit him as he recognized the action.

“Mione, we better end this before it gets out of hand,” he said, pushing back the strong desire that had started forming in his chest. If he didn’t tell her goodnight now, he was afraid he wouldn’t be able to. When she nodded in agreement, he slowly eased toward her and kissed her softly before pulling back and looking at her. “Sweet dreams. I love you.”

“I love you, too, Harry,” she replied before opening the door to her room and disappearing to bed.

After she shut the door, Harry stood outside her door and leaned up against the opposite wall. He couldn’t have possibly wished that their first day together would turn out so well. For the first time in his life, he felt like he had a future. And from where he stood, the future looked bright. The thought made him smile, and he walked into his room and fell asleep.

************************

The party was in full swing now, and Harry was having the time of his life. Being the host, he mingled with the various guests and checked to make sure there were plenty of refreshments. As he looked outside, he saw his parents joking with Sirius and Professor Lupin. Another area found friends from Hogwarts catching up with one another. He could see Cedric and Cho, as well as Professor Dumbledore and Hagrid, each of them enjoying themselves greatly.

Walking into the sitting room, he found Ron and Hermione sitting on the sofa. Hermione went to him as he entered the room and took his hand in hers. For a moment, they sat with Ron, chitchatting and enjoying each other’s company. And that’s when it happened.

His parents had returned to the house and were walking toward the front door when Harry stopped them.

“Mum! Dad! Why are you leaving so soon?”

“Sorry, son, but we have to go,” his father replied.

At that same moment, other guests flocked to the foyer to leave. They were all leaving, and there was nothing he could do to change their minds. Worse yet, none of them seemed to have a good reason for leaving.

“No, you can’t leave. You have to stay!” Harry yelled, but the guests continued to flee through the front door as if they didn’t hear a word he said. He stood there in shock until the last person began to approach the door. “Hermione, no. You can’t leave. Why is everybody leaving? NO!”

“Harry? Wake up, Harry.”

With a start, Harry sat up in his bed. He was drenched with sweat, and his heart was racing. Hermione looked at him with a worried face as she sat on the edge of the bed.

“Harry, you were yelling in your sleep. Did you have a nightmare?”

He looked back at her and almost broke down into tears. She was always there for him, even after he had pushed her away. Still, he couldn’t stop himself from asking the question he desperately needed her to answer. “Hermione, promise me. Promise me you’ll never leave me.”

Hermione could see the desperation in his eyes, and it dawned on her what kind of nightmare he was having. He was afraid of losing her, much like he had lost so many other important people in his life. She couldn’t deny him the words he needed to hear, so she took him in her arms and comforted him. “I’ve always been here, Harry, and I always will be.”

The tension that gripped Harry’s body was released when he heard her answer, and he relaxed in her arms. He no longer made an attempt to hold back the tears as he sobbed onto Hermione’s shoulder. All thoughts of being strong and masculine left his mind as he let her see the real Harry for the first time.

He seemed to be relaxing as Hermione’s fingers gently stroked his hair, and she could feel that his heart was returning to its normal pace. Slowly she pulled him away and looked at him with concerned eyes. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“No, but I promise to tell you all about it in the morning. Thank you for being here,” he replied, and he moved away from her embrace and lay back down in his bed. Without preamble, Hermione laid down next to him and pulled up the blankets, a movement that didn’t go unnoticed to Harry. “Mione, I don’t…I mean, you don’t have to…I’ll be fine.”

Hermione propped herself up on her elbow and looked at him; her mind was made up. “Maybe, but I’m not going to leave you, especially when you need me. I’m tired, and you’re tired, so quit making excuses and let’s get some sleep.” Harry gazed back at her in disbelief, but she merely laid her head on the pillow and got comfortable.

Once Harry had gotten over the initial shock of Hermione being in his bed, he rolled over and tried to go back to sleep. He was desperately afraid of the feelings that might overcome him if she was the last thing he saw before going back to sleep. But as he stared into the darkness, it became apparent to him that sleep was nowhere in his near future. His thoughts drifted back and forth between Hermione and the dream that had scared him beyond belief. He’d had the dream many times before, but tonight was the first time that Hermione didn’t make it out of the door; she had woken him before that could happen.

Harry continued to toss and turn as the night turned into morning, and he could tell that he wasn’t the only one. He felt horrible that he was keeping Hermione awake, especially when she had made such a heartfelt gesture to stay with him. Just as he was getting ready to get up to go downstairs and read, he felt Hermione roll over and put her arm around his chest. Harry let out a deep sigh almost immediately, and put his hand on top of hers, where it would remain until he woke up hours later.

**************************

When Hermione woke up the next morning, she was unaware of where she was. She vaguely remembered having her arm around Harry, but it felt too much like a dream for it to be real. She was almost certain in her fogged state that she would open her eyes to find herself in her own flat and in her own bed, but that wasn’t what she found. Instead, she found herself in a four-poster that was decidedly not her own, but one she recognized as being Harry’s.

Slowly it all came back to her: Harry screaming, her comforting him, and her insisting on staying with him. She even remembered wrapping her arm around him when he couldn’t seem to relax. He had fallen asleep a few moments later, and she had followed close behind. When her eyes finally opened, she realized that Harry was no longer in bed with her. Eventually she sat up in the bed and tried wipe the remnants of sleep from her eyes, all the while wondering where Harry was.

“Good morning, sleepyhead.” Harry had come into the bedroom from his private bathroom. He was wearing a pair of shorts and was carrying his shirt in his hands. Hermione was instantly wide-awake.

“Good morning. How are you feeling?” she asked as Harry pulled on his T-shirt and crossed the room to sit next to her on the bed.

“Much better,” Harry began. He had taken her hand and was looking her in the eye. “Listen, thanks for staying with me last night. I’m sorry if I kept you awake all night.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for, Harry.” She looked down briefly before looking back up at him. She wasn’t quite sure how to bring up what she wanted to ask him. “That wasn’t the first time you’d had that nightmare, was it?”

He didn’t need to say anything; his silence was enough.

“How long, Harry?”

“Since a week before we left Hogwarts.” At this revelation, Hermione’s eyes became very wide and her face strained. Harry thought for sure that she was going to yell at him for keeping that secret bottled up inside him for so long, but when she relaxed a minute later, he breathed a sigh of relief.

A moment of awkward silence followed. Hermione looked like she was formulating a question in her head, and Harry could do nothing but wait. He always thought that he could tell what Hermione was thinking, but right now, he seriously doubted it.

“Why do you do it?”

Harry did a double take; he wasn’t expecting a question like that. “Do what?”

“You’ve always been a great friend, Harry. You listen to other people’s problems and try to help them work it out. But when it comes to your own problems, you shoulder the burden alone. It never crosses your mind that we are here for you just as much as you’re here for us. Why do you do it, Harry? Why do you go it alone when you know that you don’t have to?” Hermione spoke these words with a small amount of desperation in her voice. She was suddenly gripped by the need to know the answer to the questions she’d asked. As she waited for him to answer, she became aware that she was holding her breath almost as if her life couldn’t go on until he answered.

“Why?” he asked, looking down to their hands. Hermione nodded as he brought his head back up to her eyes. “I guess I thought that you and Ron would be better off if I wasn’t running to you every time I had a little nightmare or dilemma. My mind told me that if I kept it to myself that it would be easier for you when I was gone.” Harry’s eyes darted away upon completion of the last sentence. Oh shit, here we go, he thought.

“’When you were gone?’ What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Harry stood from the bed at Hermione’s question, sensing her anger. He nervously ran his fingers through his hair as he paced around the room.

“It’s complicated.”

“I like stories.”

“I don’t know where to begin.”

“Try the beginning. It usually works the best.”

The beginning. Harry supposed that was the best place to begin. He stopped pacing and looked at Hermione for a moment. She was completely serious, but there was something in her eyes that told him that she would understand anything he told her. The days of holding back were gone. He’d made a promise to her: no more secrets. It was now or never.

“I guess the beginning would be when Voldemort killed my parents and tried to kill me. He was acting out because of a prophecy that was made that stated that a baby born at the end of the seventh month would have the ability to vanquish the Dark Lord. It also stated that the baby would be born to those who thrice defied him.”

“You?”

“Yeah, but that wasn’t all. The prophecy also said that, well, in a nutshell it said that I either had to kill Voldemort, or he would kill me. I think the actual words were ‘and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives.’” Harry paused briefly before sitting down in one of the chairs across the room. He put his head in his hands and continued, his voice barely audible. “I thought for sure that I would be the one to die.”

Hermione was speechless. She had always known that Harry’s self-esteem was borderline non-existent, but had dismissed the idea after she saw him so determined to finish off Voldemort. She knew now that what she saw wasn’t determination, but instead resignation. When she finally glanced over at Harry, she became aware of how difficult this was for him to talk about. Hermione stood from the bed and crossed the room to stand in front of Harry. When he looked up, she lowered herself onto his lap and embraced him. His head fell onto her shoulder, and she could soon feel the wetness from his tears.

When Harry looked up at her many minutes later, her heart stopped for a brief moment.

“I’m so sorry,” he began. “I’m sorry for keeping everything from you, and for thinking that you wouldn’t understand. I’m sorry for springing my feelings on you before I left and for being too scared to come back when it was over. I never thought that I would live to see my eighteenth birthday, let alone be sitting here with you right now. I wanted to stay with you that night more than you’ll ever know, but I didn’t want to start something I wasn’t sure I would be able to finish. I know how much it must have hurt you, so I’m sorry. I’m sorry for everything.”

Hermione’s eyes never left Harry’s as he was speaking to her. His brilliant green eyes were glistening with tears, and Hermione lifted her hand to run her fingers through his inky black hair, his body relaxing under her touch.

“I love you anyway, Harry. I loved you even when I knew you were hiding part of yourself from me, and I love you now for trusting me with this piece of you. But am I right in saying that we haven’t even scratched the surface?” Harry nodded the affirmative sheepishly. He had started to speak when she cut him off. “Don’t worry about it. We’ve got plenty of time, and I’ve put you through enough already this morning. You’re not alone in this, Harry. We’ll get through it together.”

Harry smiled back at Hermione for the first time since he walked out of the bathroom earlier that morning. The darkness that had clouded his eyes earlier was gone, and was replaced by a healthy glow. “I knew there was a good reason for loving you,” he said, bringing her lips down to his in a kiss. They were becoming more comfortable doing this now, so when Harry slowly traced his tongue along her lips, she granted him access with a soft moan.

When they came up for breath, Hermione gave Harry another quick kiss and stood up, helping him up along the way. “I’m going to take a shower. Do you have any plans for us today?” she asked as Harry wrapped his arms around her waist and hers snaked around his neck.

“Not really, but I do have one thing I need to do. I’ve been putting it off since I moved in, and I finally feel like I’m strong enough to handle it.”

“Do you need me to go with you?” she asked, slightly curious as to what he needed to do.

“Are you kidding? You’re my strength, Mione. I need you there for support.”

“I’m always here for support, Harry. Don’t you ever forget that.”

*************************

After Hermione had taken a shower and they had gotten a bite to eat, Harry led them out of the house and down the sidewalks of Godric’s Hollow. It was a wonderful July day, and it was definitely a good day for a walk. They walked along hand in hand, silently taking in the Sunday breeze. Not a word was spoken as they took a left turn here, and a right turn there, but Hermione couldn’t help but wonder what Harry was up to. Whatever it was they were doing, it was important to Harry, so she walked next to him in silence.

As they approached a large arch made out of iron, she felt Harry growing tense. The closer they got to the arch, Hermione began to fear what it was they were doing. She noticed that the arch was in fact an entrance to a cemetery, and when she looked over to Harry for some kind of sign, he simply squeezed her hand.

They entered the cemetery and began to walk down the pathway. Harry didn’t exactly know where it was, but Sirius had once told him there was a big marker with the name “Potter” on it, and that it was along the main path. He wasn’t sure why he felt he had to do this, but a voice somewhere in his head was telling him that he needed it if he wanted closure. He tried to go just after he had moved in, but only made it as far as the entrance before turning back. But now he had Hermione by his side, and he felt like he had the strength to face anything in his path.

When he found the marker, just as it was described to him, he unconsciously dropped Hermione’s hand. Her suspicions were right; they were at his parents’ grave. She watched silently as Harry stood there, his body rigid. He slowly dropped down to his knees in front of the headstone and ran his hands over the letters that spelled their names.

Somehow, Harry had set himself down on the ground and had drawn his knees up to his chest. Hermione stood a safe distance behind. If he needed her she was there, but she sensed that right now he needed a moment to himself. She was snapped out of her thoughts when she heard Harry speaking in between cries.

“They died so I could live, Hermione, and that didn’t mean anything to me. I almost let them die in vain.”

It was a statement that didn’t require a response. How does one respond to that, anyway? Without a thought, Hermione came up behind him and straddled his body with her legs and wrapping her arms around his waist. It seemed like she was doing so little to comfort him, but to Harry, it meant everything.

Okay, it’s beta appreciation time. A good beta helps you with your grammar, and a great beta gives you story ideas as well as grammar help. But my beta gives me the confidence I need to post the wild and crazy thoughts that come into my head on top of everything else that a great beta does. If it wasn’t for her, you wouldn’t be reading this.

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The walk back to the house was without words. Hermione had sat and consoled Harry for almost an hour in front of his parents’ grave. He talked openly about how much he would have loved to know his parents and how he wished he could remember more about them. Hermione had been unsure of how to respond, but soon found that her just being there was good enough for him. She simply listened and offered comfort; it was obvious that these feelings had been bottled up inside him for years, and she felt honored that he chose to share them with her.

After returning to the house, Harry immediately walked to the kitchen and downed a large glass of water before supporting himself with his arms on the counter and his head bowed. He was emotionally drained. Seeing his parents’ final resting place had given him closure, but he was now faced with a whole new set of emotions that were threatening to overtake him. The main problem, however, was that he couldn’t put a finger on what new emotions were at play. If he knew what they were, he could sort them out, but instead he felt helpless.

Hermione came into the kitchen a few minutes later to see him leaning over the counter. She slowly came to his side and ran her hand up and down his back. “Are you okay?” she asked.

“I will be, but I think right now I could use a nap. I didn’t get much sleep last night,” he replied, turning to her as his hands found hers.

“Do you want me to come with you?”

“No, you’ve already done so much for me today. I don’t think I could have gone there by myself. Thank you for just being there. I need a little time to let everything sink in and then I’ll be fine.”

The small smile on Harry’s face didn’t fool Hermione for a second. Seven years of friendship told her that everything he said was true, but that he was holding something back. However, she could see just how much being in the cemetery had affected him and decided to let it go.

“You’re sure?” she asked.

“I’m sure. Make yourself at home and I’ll be down in a while.”

Hermione nodded, and Harry leaned down and gave her a quick kiss before going upstairs to his bedroom. After seeing him disappear upstairs, Hermione decided to check out the library more thoroughly.

**************************

Harry plopped down on his bed face down and immediately started trying to decipher what was going on in his head. There was no question that he had finally reconciled how he felt about his parents’ death, but now something else was tugging at him.

Rolling over and staring at the ceiling, he decided to start from the beginning. Having Hermione there with him meant more than he would ever be able to tell her. He couldn’t help but think of the future they could have together. If he thought hard enough, he could see the two of them welcoming grandchildren into their home and spoiling them, as grandparents tend to do. More than anything, he wanted the opportunity to spend a long life with the woman he loved, and to experience all the moments his parents weren’t given the chance to experience.

Then there was Voldemort. Harry had no doubt in his mind that he was dead and gone, but he couldn’t help worrying that some Death Eater would get a wild hair up their butt and try to continue where Voldemort left off. It disturbed him greatly that Death Eaters were still running around free, and Harry knew that he would be at the top of the list if one of the remaining Death Eaters came into power.

The realization came then, and it hit him hard. The feeling that had gripped him on the walk home from the cemetery was fear. It was the fear of never having a normal life, of losing everyone important to him, and most of all, of leaving those people behind if anything happened to him. It was a horrible feeling, and for a brief moment he questioned his decision to let Hermione and Ron back into his life. He couldn’t, however, deny the fact that the last two days with Hermione had been the best he’d had in a long time. He was able to be more open with her during that short time than he had ever been while they were at Hogwarts. It was like a whole new beginning for them, and the fact that they were best friends only made it better.

As much as Harry wanted to protect Hermione and keep her out of harm’s way, he knew that he couldn’t push her away now that she was back in his life. Somehow he knew that she wouldn’t be so forgiving the second time around. He also knew that he needed her more than anything else. She knew how to comfort him, and she could usually do it without saying a word; her presence alone was comforting. Most of all, he couldn’t forget what she had said to him last night: “I’ve always been here, Harry, and I always will be.” Her words repeated in his head, and despite his fears, gave him the ability to fall into a peaceful sleep.

********************

Hermione walked into the library after Harry went upstairs and began to look over the shelves of books. She was intrigued by the fact that Harry had a small collection of books on Ancient Runes and Arithmancy, especially since he never took either of those subjects while at Hogwarts.

As she moved to a small shelf that was situated over the writing desk in the corner, her eyes fell upon a book with no writing on the spine. Curious, she grabbed the book from the shelf and examined it. It was a leather-bound book, and had the letters HJP embossed in gold foil on the front. She immediately recognized it as the journal she had given Harry for Christmas during their seventh year. Opening the cover, Hermione found the note she had written to him:

Harry-

This is the friend that will always listen and never talk back or question your motives. But always remember that I’ll be there to listen when you need someone to talk back and question your motives.

Love always,

Hermione

Hermione remembered how grateful Harry looked when she gave him the journal. He had joked about how good she was at questioning motives and talking back. They laughed together, and then he gave her a big hug, saying it was the best gift anyone had ever given him.

As she quickly thumbed through the pages, she noticed how full they were with writing, and she became conflicted. This is personal, Hermione thought. If he wants me to know about anything he wrote in here, he’ll tell me. Then again, it wasn’t exactly hidden. Maybe he wanted me to find it. I’ll just read a few entries.

Having made her decision, Hermione got comfortable on the sofa and opened the book to the first entry.

10 June 1998

I just returned from a meeting with Dumbledore and Sirius about the vision I had last night about dueling Voldemort. Sirius was upset that I was so calm about facing him, but Dumbledore seemed to understand. As difficult as it is to keep from Sirius (and Ron and Hermione, for that matter), I’m glad Dumbledore and I agreed to keep the specifics of the prophecy a secret. I don’t want any of them to worry about me any more than they already do. If they did know, it would only be more difficult for them when this is all over, and I care for them too much to put them through even more pain.

After the meeting, Sirius walked me back to Gryffindor Tower, and we stopped for a moment to chat. He sensed a bit of hesitation in my voice earlier, and came to the conclusion that I was in love. He’s right, but what troubles me is that he seemed to know that I’m in love with Hermione, even though I never mentioned her name. She doesn’t know, obviously, but Sirius strongly suggested that I tell her how I feel. He has a point, but I don’t want to hurt her. It wouldn’t be fair to her to put myself out there and then leave her, especially when I probably won’t return. I love her too much to cause her any more pain, and no good could come from telling her.

I have a week before I leave, and Dumbledore suggested that I not say anything to anyone until then. Maybe I’ll change my mind about telling Hermione how I feel, but I can’t see myself doing so. We’ll see.

Hermione looked over the first entry in Harry’s journal with surprise. She had no idea that he had met with Dumbledore and Sirius about Voldemort. She remembered that night; he said he was studying in the library. His eyes had an odd look about them that night, but by the time she had a chance to talk to him the next morning, he seemed completely normal.

She turned the page to the next entry, and held her breath for a moment when she recognized the date.

17 June 1998

Okay, so I changed my mind. I went to her room under my Invisibility Cloak with the sole purpose of just watching her for a few minutes before I left for Little Hangleton, but for reasons I may never understand, I ended up telling her that I love her. No, that I’m in love with her. I don’t remember most of our conversation, but I do remember her kissing me. I’m too ashamed to say it, but all the excuses I gave her for holding back were a feeble attempt on my part to disguise the fact that I was scared that Mione didn’t feel the same way. And now that I know she does, I feel more than a little guilty about leaving her.

She asked me to stay with her, which caught me off guard. I could see the desperation in her eyes, and I’m sure I insulted her when I turned her down. Up to that point, it was the hardest thing I’ve ever done in my life. I couldn’t, with a good conscience, sleep with her and run off the next morning, knowing full well that it would probably be the only night we spent together. At the time the only thing I could think about was the prophecy and my agreement with Dumbledore to keep it secret.

So, I walked out the door. I could feel the pain she was in, because I was, am, in pain, too. But not because of what happened while I was in her room, but what happened after I left. It changed everything. After I put my cloak back on, I stood there next to the door for a few minutes, trying to get the strength to leave. I could hear Mione crying, and I wanted nothing more than to walk back in there and make it better, but my head wasn’t cooperating with my heart. I turned back around to face the door, and she was staring into my eyes (even though she thought I was long gone) and said that she loved me. I turned away immediately. Not because I was scared, but because I now know what I have to do. Voldemort doesn’t stand a chance. I WILL find a way to beat him, and he won’t be a thorn in my side anymore.

Hermione swiped at her eyes as she took in the full meaning of what Harry had written. He had gone into her room having resigned himself to death, and left with the resolve to defeat Voldemort. It shocked her to find out that he had heard her say that she loved him, and that she had been looking right into his eyes when she said it. But at the same time, her stomach turned over at the idea that she was the reason he was able to believe that he could defeat Voldemort.

Hermione smiled at the thought that she had that kind of effect on Harry, and turned to the next entry, dated four days later.

21 June 1998

10:15 a.m.

The fact that I’m lying here in St. Mungo’s recovering must mean that Voldemort is gone. The last thing I remember is performing the Killing Curse, and then collapsing from what I assume was exhaustion. I have no idea how I got here, who found me, or what happened to all the Death Eaters, but I’m sure I’ll find out.

Defeating Voldemort came at a great personal cost. Sirius showed up at dawn of the third day, thinking that he was helping me out. He was captured by the Death Eaters, and brought to Voldemort, who immediately used him as a hostage. I was given a choice: surrender or he would kill Sirius. I honestly can’t recall all the thoughts that were running through my head at the time, but Sirius was adamant that I not surrender. I considered it, but took too long to think about it. Before I could do anything about it, Sirius was gone. And more blood on my hands. I can’t help but blame myself. He was there because he thought I needed help, but if he’d known about the prophecy, he would have let me finish it the way it was supposed to be finished. Sirius would still be here, and I wouldn’t feel like I’ve committed partial suicide.

I imagine the Ministry will want a detailed account of our duel, but after that I will speak of it no more. The guilt will be with me forever.

3:00 p.m.

Professor Dumbledore stopped in a few minutes ago. I wish I could say that we had a nice conversation, but the truth is that he did most of the talking while I stared into space. I know he’s just trying to help, but I’m afraid I just wasn’t in the mood to listen. He did tell me that Sirius left all his belongings to me in his will. Grimmauld Place and all the contents of his vault in Gringotts are now mine. Dumbledore gave me an envelope with my name on it before leaving. I could tell immediately that it was from Sirius.

Hermione noticed a folded piece of parchment tucked into the page of the book and opened it. It was a letter from Sirius to Harry.

Harry,

The fact that you’re reading this makes me proud to have ever called you my godson. Your parents would be proud of you as well. I wish I could be there to share in the joy of your victory, but it wasn’t meant to be. You deserved to have a better godfather than an escape convict from Azkaban, and for that I apologize.

My biggest regret is that I could never give you the home and family that you deserved. I hope one day you can find that one person to make your life complete. You know where to find her; so don’t let her get away.

As I’m sure Dumbledore has told you, Grimmauld Place is now yours, as well as my vault at Gringotts. In the vault you will find many of your parents’ personal belongings. Hopefully they will answer any questions you may have better than I ever could.

Concerning Grimmauld Place: do with it whatever you wish. I hate to dump the place on you, but the Order no longer has use for it, and I trust your judgment.

Keep your head up, Harry. Your chance to live a normal life is here, so take advantage of it.

Sirius

Hermione once again felt the tears running down her face, but instead of swiping them away, she let them fall. As she was reading the last entry and Sirius’ letter, it had come to her attention that Harry’s version of what happened to Sirius and what the Ministry had told everyone were completely different. I’ll have to check into it, she thought.

She continued to leisurely turn the pages of Harry’s journal, and her heart swelled. She was happy that he had an outlet for all the pain he had experienced, even though she wished she could have been the pages.

Some time later, Hermione was jolted out of her deep thought by the sound of Harry coming down the stairs. Before she could make a move to hide the journal, he was standing in the doorway.

“Hi,” he said, a small grin forming on his lips.

“Hi. Are you feeling better?” She casually shut the book and set it between her and the couch, hoping he wouldn’t notice as he came in and sat next to her.

“Much better. What are you reading?” he asked, making a move for the journal she had tried so much to hide.

“Oh, nothing,” she said, not quite meeting his eyes.

“Hermione, you’re a terrible liar. If it were nothing, then you wouldn’t have stuffed it in the cushion when I walked through the door.”

Hermione looked up and realized that he was right. Harry caught her, and she had no choice but to fess up to reading his journal. Keeping her head down, she pulled out the book and handed it to him. When she finally looked at him, his eyes were wide and a smile was on his face.

“What?” she asked.

“Well, if I’ve read this situation correctly, you’re feeling ashamed because you feel that you’ve invaded my privacy,” he began. “Actually, I was meaning to give this to you anyway.”

“You were?”

“You’re entitled to the best explanation I can give you, Hermione. Everything I wrote in here was written with the full intention of you reading it. I approached it as talking to you about what was on my mind, even though I didn’t have the guts to actually talk to you.” Harry handed her back the book and wriggled his arm around her waist. “I’ll answer any questions you might have, but I hope you understand if I don’t go into very much detail. It’s not that I don’t trust you, but rather that it just hurts too much to discuss them.”

Hermione twisted in her seat to look at Harry and saw that he was suddenly fascinated with his hands. She took her left hand and set it on his, and moved her right hand up to his cheek. When their eyes met, Hermione could see the pain. And for the first time in her life, she completely understood.

“Harry…” she began, but her words got lost in his eyes until they were a jumbled up mess. She moved her other hand up so they were now cupping his face, and continued to look into his eyes. She pulled him to her and kissed him hard, feeling like it was the only way she could say what was on her mind.

Harry responded immediately to what she was saying and kissed her back. It wasn’t sweet and tender like their other kisses thus far, but passionate and needy. Hermione’s hands went around to play with the hair on the back of Harry’s neck, which gave Harry the confidence to pull her closer and deepen the kiss.

Harry’s arms were rested on her lower back, and to his surprise, she slowly pulled him on top of her as they lay down on the couch. As they continued kissing, Hermione’s hands found their way under his T-shirt and began moving along his back. Harry pulled back out of surprise when she did this, but the smile on her face drew him right back to her lips.

Hermione let out a soft moan as Harry’s mouth moved down her neck, and she tilted her head back slightly to give him better access. She felt one hand run along her stomach and around to her back, while his other hand played with her hair.

Several minutes later, Harry pulled back once again and looked at Hermione. “Can I ask what brought that on?” he asked curiously.

Hermione propped herself up on her elbows and took a moment to catch her breath before answering. “I’m not sure. I just looked into your eyes and told myself that I had to find some way to take your mind off of everything bad that has happened to you, even if it was only for a few minutes.”

“I think you accomplished your goal.”

Hermione reached down and picked up the forgotten journal off the floor and held it between them. “You told me the other night that you wanted to take your life back. Everything in here is in the past, Harry, and there’s nothing you can do to change it. Leave it behind. Don’t ever forget it, but leave it behind.”

Harry kissed her and brushed a piece of hair from her face. “You make it sound so easy.”

“I have faith in you, Harry.”

**********************

Later that evening, Harry and Hermione went upstairs to their bedrooms. Harry mentioned that he wanted to take a shower before going to bed, and Hermione wanted to do some reading from a book she brought with her. As she heard the water begin to run in Harry’s bathroom, she began think. It had really felt very natural to be in Harry’s bed, even if it was the fact that she was worried about him that put her there in the first place. She was still worried about him; his nightmares seemed to stem from his fear of loneliness, and she couldn’t stand to see him that way. Without another thought, Hermione grabbed her book and walked into his room, placing herself on the left side of the bed and marveling at just how right it felt.

Harry walked out of the bathroom with nothing but a towel around his waist. The first thing he saw made him stop dead in his tracks. “Hermione, what…you shouldn’t be here.”

Hermione stared for a moment before realizing she needed to plead her case. “My bed was cold and uncomfortable, so I thought I’d come in here,” she replied, as Harry walked back out of the bathroom, now wearing a T-shirt and boxers.

“I can get you another blanket, or there are two other rooms you can use.”

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think that you were trying to kick me out of your room.”

“It’s not that, Mione, it’s just –“

“God, Harry, are you going to make me come right out and say it? I want to be here because it feels right just to be next to you. I don’t think I’ve ever been as peaceful in the morning as I was when I woke up this morning.”

Harry sighed and walked around to the other side of the bed, completely surprised at Hermione’s words. “I just don’t want to make you uncomfortable,” he said as he sat down on the bed.

Hermione put down her book and moved over to sit next to him. “I wouldn’t be worried about that, if I were you. After all, I was the one who came in here. You haven’t done anything to make me feel uncomfortable.”

She gave him a quick kiss and moved back to her side of the bed. Harry sat still for a moment before lying down on his back and making sure that he maintained a safe distance between them. His head had been in conflict with the rest of him all day, and he wasn’t sure whom he should be listening to. He chanced a glance over to Hermione, who was still sitting up and reading her book. With a smile on his face, he rolled over onto his stomach and glared up at her.

“What?” she asked.

“Don’t mind me. I’m just in awe.”

Hermione blushed and lay down so she was at eye level with him. “In awe of what?”

“You. I’m in awe that I have this beautiful woman here that continues to surprise and amaze me every day. She’s my best friend and the smartest witch I’ve ever known, and I can’t help but wonder what I did to deserve you.”

“Harry, you didn’t have to do anything. I love you.”

“But why…why do you love me? You should be furious with me for not contacting you for a year. I still can’t believe that you haven’t made mention of it once.”

“Oh, believe me, Harry. I tried to be angry. I think at one point I spent a whole afternoon thinking up hexes I’d like to throw at you. But when Hedwig brought that letter from you, I was so happy that you were all right that the anger went away. Because I do love you, Harry, and I can’t remember a time when I didn’t love you. And I can’t put my finger on why; I just know that it’s true,” she said, as she ran a hand through his hair.

Harry pondered her answer for a moment before replying. “Mione, I’ve made so many mistakes, especially when it comes to you. And I’m usually not sure about many things, but I am sure that I love you and I’m sure about us.”

“Me, too,” she replied, and they slowly drifted off to sleep.

*****************

Author’s notes: This is the last chapter that I have completed for this fic, but fear not. I’m working on Chapter 8 as we speak.

This chapter also gave you a peak at the journal that Harry kept during his year away. I have another fic that is nothing but these journal entries that I will post if anyone is interested.

Yeah, it’s Chapter 8—only three months after I finished Ch. 7. I hope you all like this chapter. It starts to answer some of the questions that I’m sure some of you have been asking while reading the previous chapters. Enjoy.

********

Harry woke up the next morning lying on his side with his arm around Hermione’s waist. She was still asleep as far as he could tell and didn’t want to wake her. He started to move away from her and get up from bed when he heard her mumbling.

“Don’t go,” she said, and he stopped mid-step before walking over to her side of the bed and sitting down next to her. She smiled sleepily and entwined their fingers. “I sure hope you were planning on coming back from wherever it was you were going.”

He looked back at her with a regretful smile. “Sorry Mione, I didn’t mean to wake you up, but I have some work to do. The grass needs to be cut, and if I don’t start now, I’ll be doing it all day.” Hermione began to speak, but Harry guessed what she was about to say and cut her off. “Yes, I could use magic, but I like doing this the Muggle way. I won’t tell the Dursleys, but I actually enjoy doing yard work. It always felt good to be outside after being locked up in your room.”

Hermione sat up and smiled as she laid a hand on Harry’s cheek. “Do the Chocolate Frog people know this? They’ve been hounding Ron and I for tid-bits to put on your card. I can see it now: ‘…learned love of yard work from Muggle aunt and uncle, who worked his bleeding arse off for seventeen years.’” Harry smiled brightly and kissed Hermione, catching her off guard. She quickly reciprocated, and when they broke away a few minutes later, she stared up at him, breathless. “What…was that for?”

“Because I don’t think I’ve ever heard you swear like that before, and I suddenly had the uncontrollable urge to kiss you. I do believe I’m having a bad influence on you.”

“I think the library downstairs makes us even. Now you’d better get out of here before I change my mind about letting you go.”

“Yes, dear,” Harry said mockingly as he kissed her quickly and walked out the door.

Hermione watched him leave, wondering how much longer she could handle taking it slow.

*************

An hour later Hermione was dressed and peeking out the door to the backyard. She watched as he finished cutting the grass and proceeded to take off his shirt and wipe his face with it before slinging it over his shoulder and getting down on his knees to pull weeds near the back of the house.

Hermione also couldn’t help but marvel at the fact that Harry was doing these chores voluntarily, especially since his aunt and uncle had forced him to do them for so many years. Harry didn’t speak of them often, but he made it count when he did. The comments were always quick and to the point, and made her afraid to have him elaborate in fear of what might transpire.

It was actually smart of Harry to play Muggle from time to time. Godric’s Hollow did have residents that belonged to the wizarding world, but it was still mostly Muggle. The back yard was fenced in, but sometimes neighbors can be nosy, and that was the last thing Harry needed in his life. He came here to escape and live a quiet life; nosy neighbors wondering how he got the grass to look perfect weren’t in the plans.

She stood and watched him for minutes, unable to take her eyes away. True, this wasn’t the first time she had seen him without his shirt, but this was the first time he was unaware of her presence and she was able to enjoy the view without him playing shy. It was these moments when Hermione waited for her eyes to open as if she were dreaming. The sweaty man pulling weeds was her Harry, and she never thought she would find the act of yard work more sexy and appealing than she did at this very moment.

It was still hard for her to think of Harry in that way…sexy. He had been her best friend for five years before she fell in love with the person he’d become, and now she was falling in love with the rest of him. She was surprised at the direction her mind was taking, but decided it was only natural to be having these feelings. She wanted him, plain and simple.

Hermione got an idea and walked back into the kitchen. She searched the cupboards for a moment until she found a couple of glasses, and then proceeded to magically fill them with icy lemonade. She took the glasses outside, set one on the table and walked over toward Harry, whose back was to her and had been oblivious to her presence the whole time.

Harry jumped when Hermione came up behind him and put a hand on his shoulder. He grinned when he saw her, and looked up at the glass in her hand. “Is that for me?”

Hermione smiled back at him as she sat down beside him on the ground. “It depends on how much you think you need it. I’m personally very thirsty and could drink the whole glass myself.”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“I wouldn’t?”

“Not if you know what’s good for you.” He was smiling back at her devilishly, and his fingers were slowly tracing circles on her leg. The action was distracting to Hermione, whose breathing had started to become more labored, and what was it they were talking about? All her attention was focused on Harry and the way he was looking at her; it was a look that could make her care less about the sweaty glass of magically conjured lemonade she was still holding in her hand.

“You’re good for me,” was all she could get out before Harry leaned in and kissed her. Her arms would have immediately gone around his neck, but that damned glass of lemonade was preventing it. She quickly set it down next to them and gave Harry her full attention. Hermione leaned back onto the grass with Harry following her, all while never breaking the kiss that had become very deep and full of desire.

Harry pulled away when the need for air had become desperate. It was only then that he noticed how close together they were. He was leaning over her, his arms holding him up, and their legs were tangled together. Hermione was staring up at him, her hands still wandering over his chest and stomach.

“What’s wrong, Harry?” She was still running her hands along his chest and occasionally up and down his back; he really wished she would stop so he could think straight.

“I…” He stopped because he didn’t know what to say. He had started to say ‘I need a shower,’ but then changed to “I think we should stop.” He sat up and looked away, afraid of what he would see if he looked in her eyes.

Hermione was beside herself. Her mind and heart were finally in agreement, and now she was having a hard time convincing Harry to just let it happen. She was staring at him, trying to get him to look at her and tell her what was wrong. When that didn’t work, she reached out and took his hand in hers; he looked at her instantly and her heart skipped a beat at the look on his face. “Sweetheart, what’s wrong?”

“I promised you that we could take this slow, and I wasn’t exactly following through with my promise just then.” He was still having a hard time looking her in the eye, so Hermione moved over in front of him so he had no choice but to look at her.

“Harry, don’t get mad at me for asking this, but who exactly did you promise?”

He gave her a questioning look. “Well, I promised you.”

“Did I ask you to promise me?”

“No, but…I,” he started. Hermione had put her index finger on his lips to silence him. She had moved closer to him as they talked, and her face was now just inches from his.

“What are you afraid of, Harry?”

He immediately looked down to avoid her gaze, but she pulled his face back up and waited for his answer. “Everything. I’m afraid of losing you, of not being there when you need me, of not having the kind of life I’ve always dreamed of having with you. But most of all, more than anything, I’m afraid of how much I love you.”

They stared at each other for a few long moments, trying to read the other’s thoughts. Hermione made the first move, her hands moving to lightly cup his face as she kissed him slowly. When she pulled back, a single tear was falling down her face, but she had a wide smile. “Make me a deal?” she asked. Harry nodded. “No more worrying about the future. Neither one of us can predict what will happen, so it doesn’t do any good. And when it comes to taking the next step, we’ll both know when the moment’s right. So can you promise me that you’ll stop worrying and trust that I love you just as much as you love me?”

Harry smiled. “I think I can do that.”

“Good, now go inside and take a shower. I’ll fix lunch.”

Harry kissed her full on the lips once again before standing up and walking to the door. On the way he picked up the extra glass of lemonade Hermione left for him earlier.

******************

Harry came into the kitchen twenty minutes later after his shower. As he stood in the doorway and watched Hermione prepare lunch with her back to him, he couldn’t help but smile. She was right, as usual. She had managed to change his state of mind drastically in the few days she had been there with him, and now he couldn’t help but wonder if he’d made the wrong decision to cut her out of his life for a year. No, it was the wrong thing to do. He knew that now.

He continued to stand there and watch her, and for a moment he saw a glimpse of the smile on her face when she turned slightly. It gave his heart a jolt to think that he was even partly responsible for that happiness. He could look at her smile constantly; it spread from ear to ear and lit up her face, making her more beautiful.

Hermione suddenly turned around and saw him standing there. If possible, her smile brightened even more as she walked over to him. “How long have you been standing there?”

“Long enough to realize how beautiful your smile is,” he replied as smiled back at her and took her in his arms. Hermione immediately rose up on her toes and gave him a quick kiss.

“You put it there, you know.” She lifted her hand and gently brushed it through his hair before running her finger along his jaw line and resting it on his lips. “I wouldn’t mind seeing yours more often.”

“You’re in luck, then. I think this smile is plastered to my face right now.” Harry looked over and saw the lunch Hermione had prepared for the two of them. He had been expecting a sandwich and a cold glass of pumpkin juice. Instead there was an immaculate looking meal. He looked at her in surprise. “Wow, Hermione. I didn’t expect this. It looks great.”

Hermione took his hand and walked him over to the table. “I thought it would be good to have a nice meal and talk.”

Harry gave her a questioning look. “What do you want to talk about? Is something the matter?”

Hermione remained quiet for a moment while they got settled at the table and started eating. After taking a drink of pumpkin juice, she got his attention. “I wouldn’t say anything is the matter, Harry. I just have a few questions about us.” Harry had a look that said he didn’t quite understand what she meant, so she continued. “This week has been better than I ever could have imagined. Last week I was so worried about what your state of mind would be and how awkward it would be for us after how we left things between us. After I went for so long without hearing from you, I almost had myself convinced that it was all some kind of twisted dream and that the next time I saw you we would be best friends again. But then every day I woke up and the pain that you were gone was so real, and the memory of us kissing was so real. I was afraid my forwardness scared you away.” She gave a heavy sigh, happy to finally have voiced her thoughts to Harry.

“Your forwardness?” His eyes were wide, but had a twinkle in them. “I wouldn’t say you scared me away. If anything, you were doing your best to keep me from going. And believe me, Mione, you almost succeeded.”

Hermione, who had been playing with her food while he spoke, looked up immediately. “I did?” She was stunned he said that, even after all the moments they had shared over the last couple of days proved just how much he loved her.

“You did.” It was a simple statement, but one that Harry delivered with sincerity as he stared at her.

Harry was happy that they were still able to talk openly to each other after everything that had happened. He sensed she was questioning herself and if Harry could ever really see her as more than a best friend. After staring at each other silently for a few minutes, he moved over from the end of the table to sit next to her. He turned her so she was facing him and took her hands in his. She looked about ready to cry. “Hermione, believe me when I say that I love you more than anything in this world. Your mere presence makes my heart beat faster than when I’m diving head first to the ground on my Firebolt. You’ll always be my best friend, but I want you to be so much more.” He paused for a moment to let the information sink in. “Can I tell you something?” Hermione nodded.

“I’ve never told anyone the real story about this. The only other person who knew promised not to say anything. Do you remember the night Ginny and I broke up in fifth year?” Hermione nodded once again. “Well, we didn’t exactly lie when we said that it was mutual, but there was more behind it. That night Ginny and I had gone up to the Astronomy Tower, and I’m sure you can guess what we were doing. Well, to make a long story short, I forgot where I was and whom I was with and said your name while kissing her. That was the end of it, right then and there. We modified the reasons for our break-up to spare Ginny the embarrassment.”

Hermione was staring at him in shock. She vaguely remembered the discussion she had with Ginny about her and Harry’s break-up. It all made perfect sense now. “I can’t believe you did that, Harry.” She was trying hard not to laugh. On one hand it had been embarrassing for Ginny; however, she was also amazed that Harry was capable of such a thing. When it became too much for her, she broke into a fit of giggles.

He sat and stared at her for a few moments, content to let her have her fun, but also because he loved to see her like this. He finally got her attention, trying his best to look serious. “I didn’t exactly intend for you to react that way.”

Hermione sobered. “I’m sorry, Harry. It really isn’t funny. It’s just…”

“That I was thinking of you even when I wasn’t with you,” Harry finished. He knew that wasn’t what she was going to say, but he wanted to make sure he got his point across. He sat and stared at her for a moment, her eyes staring right back. When Harry spoke again, they were sitting much closer than they started. “It’s always been you, Hermione. I don’t know why I tried to convince myself otherwise.”

“Harry…” she started. A tear began to run down her cheek, and his thumb moved up to brush it away. She looked at him longingly, realizing that she would be completely happy to stay here forever. It seemed like her to be the natural thing to do—just looking into his eyes, knowing that he loved her as much as she loved him. Out of nowhere, a thought occurred to her. “Harry?”

“Yes, love?”

She got up and sat in his lap, marveling at how she could have been apprehensive to do such a thing a few days ago. “I don’t want this to end.”

His eyes got wide and he instinctively wrapped his arms around her waist. “What do you mean, Mione? This doesn’t have to end.” He was getting worried that he wasn’t getting through to her, but then she smiled and leisurely ran her hand through his hair before leaning her head against his. He could get used to her doing that.

“What I meant is that in a few days I have to go back to London and the Ministry. I’ve gotten used to spending all this time with you and I love it. I don’t want it to end. I’m afraid of going through Harry withdrawal.” She paused at the smile that spread across his face before continuing. “I guess I’m curious about where we go from here. The last thing I want is for us to drift apart when we’ve just found each other.”

“I wouldn’t worry about that; I simply won’t let it happen. You should go back to London and work, and you can come here on the weekends.”

Hermione sat up in his embrace and studied him. “What about you, Harry? I hate to think of you sitting in this big house alone most of the time.”

Harry brushed some loose hair behind her ear and kissed her gently. “Again, don’t worry about it. I think it’s time I decide what to do with my life. I just don’t know how I’m going to find something I’m good at that isn’t life threatening. I’ve had enough of that kind of life. And I don’t know that I’d want to play Quidditch either. You know how much I love it, but I also know how the media treats them. For once in my life I want to be normal.”

“Maybe you should talk to Professor Dumbledore and ask his advice. I know how close the two of you have always been, and I’m sure he’d have some suggestions for you. Not to mention he would be happy to see you.”

Harry smiled back at her. “Good idea, Mione. I’ll send him a letter and try to meet with him sometime next week if he’s not too busy getting ready for the new term.”

For a long while they sat silently, their meal forgotten. They were too caught up in each other to care. Hermione was still seated on his lap in one of the kitchen chairs, and they were leisurely kissing each other breathless. It was Hermione who finally spoke between kisses. “Are we…going to…stay here all day? Or do you…have something else…planned?”

“You don’t think this is a great plan?”

“Nonsense, Harry. You know what I meant.”

“Well, since you’re objecting to spending the rest of the day here, then I’m sure I could find a way to pass the time. Do I dare ask how you feel about putting away books in the library?”

Hermione began to laugh when he said this. Harry looked back at her incredulously. “Oh come on, Harry. I find it very laughable that you of all people have a library in your house. I thought for sure you would be first in line after Ron to toss your books into the lake after exams. You can imagine my surprise that you didn’t only keep them but made a room for them.”

“I didn’t get the chance to put them in the lake. I had Professor Dumbledore put my belongings in my vault at Gringotts until I got back. I’m glad I kept them, though. They could come in handy someday.”

Hermione stood up and took his hand as she began to lead him out of the kitchen and into the library. “So why don’t you show me all these books that have to be put away. Last I looked the shelves looked almost full.” They were full, but Hermione noticed that about seven or eight boxes still lay in various places around the room. She began to wonder why Harry hadn’t used magic to put them all away; it would have only taken seconds. “You do remember that you’re a wizard, don’t you Harry? I could easily have this done in a minute,” she said as she whipped out her wand and the words of the proper spell began to escape her lips. Harry grabbed her wand though, and she stood and looked at him unbelievingly.

“Now where would the fun be in that?” He walked her over to the sofa and sat down at looked at her, a serious look on his face. “When I first moved in, and was preparing for you and Ron to come, the Muggle way of doing things probably kept me sane more than anything. It wasn’t only that it kept my mind busy, but also that I was reminded of all the good times we had together as I put things away. It gave me faith that we good be happy again, like when we were younger. Only in a different way.”

“Different in a good way, of course,” she said, running her fingers through her hair. She suddenly realized how much she loved to do it, and how much he enjoyed the gesture.

“Of course.” He teased her with another kiss before standing up, making her moan with disappointment. “Why don’t you get started with these books and I’ll go clean up the kitchen? Remember what I said though…no magic,” he instructed as he walked out the room pointing his finger at her and smiling.

When he left Hermione stood from the sofa and went to the first pile of boxes that sat in one corner. She couldn’t help but think about what Harry said as she pulled out books from their first year at Hogwarts. The visions flew through her head, especially the one of eleven-year-old Harry, his broken glasses, and second-hand clothing. The Harry that lived in her memories got older as the books found their way to the shelves, and she paused as she came upon their Defense book from fifth year. It was a particularly rough year for all of them, but also served to make her conscious of how deep her feelings ran for Harry.

When she opened the box on the bottom of the pile, she expected the contents to follow the natural progression this job had taken on. Instead, she found a book she had seen the cover of many times but never the contents. It was the photo album Hagrid had given Harry at the end of their first year, and the other books in the box also looked as if they were albums or journals of some kind. She pulled out the familiar album and once again walked over to the sofa to have a look.

The first picture made her smile. His parents, who were happy and seemingly carefree, were holding Harry. As she watched Harry’s parents wave back at her in a continuous loop, she couldn’t help wonder how much they knew about their son’s destiny. They must have known, she thought, or they wouldn’t have been in hiding trying to protect him.

She sat there staring at the picture for what seemed like forever before turning the page. She flipped mindlessly through the many pictures of her, Ron, and Harry together at Hogwarts before the last picture made her breathe catch in her throat. She remembered the picture immediately. It was their seventh year at Hogwarts, and they were outside having a snowball fight just after returning from the Christmas holidays. She had a pile of snow in her hand ready to fling it at him, but he had grabbed her and wrestled with her until the snow ended up in her hair. She sat there remembering that exact moment, but the picture revealed to her something that escaped her until now. Looking at the Harry in the picture, she saw an unmistakable look of love in his eyes. At the time, she thought he was just being an insufferable git.

********

After Harry finished cleaning the kitchen, he returned to the library to help Hermione put away the books. What he wasn’t prepared for was her sleeping peacefully on the sofa with his photo album open in her lap.

He quietly walked over to where she was laying and peeked at the picture the book was open to. The snowball fight—it was his favorite picture. He sat down on the floor next to the sofa, and watched Hermione sleep while recalling that day in the snow. He wanted to kiss her so bad that day. In fact, he almost did…a couple of times. Looking at her and then the album, his heart twitched at the thought that this picture of them made her feel content enough to fall asleep looking at it.

Harry suddenly had a thought. He summoned his quill from the desk and gently removed the album from her lap. Underneath the picture, he repeated something he had said to her earlier. It’s always been you, Mione…always. Love, Harry. He then set the album gently on her lap and kissed her forehead, not wanting to wake her. She was too peaceful and too beautiful.

Finally, here’s Chapter 9. I’ve been on Spring Break this week, so I got this chapter finished. I’ve upped the rating for this chapter just to be safe; I hope you enjoy it. Thanks to Jennifer for the beta job and to AnneU for bugging me.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Hermione woke up from her nap not knowing exactly how long she had been asleep, but from the position of the sun shining through the window, she could tell it had been a couple of hours. She began to sit up and remembered the photo album of Harry’s that was in her lap when she fell asleep. She looked once again at the picture of the two of them playing in the snow, and noticed the writing next to it that hadn’t been there earlier. She read it quickly, and a tear trickled down her cheek.

She then realized that Harry must have been in the library and seen her sleeping. She smiled at the thought that he didn’t want to disturb her, and once again leaned her head back and sighed deeply. He had constantly surprised her this week, almost as much as she surprised herself. She came into this week fully expecting to have it out with him about their relationship and where they stood, but that hadn’t been the case. The moment she saw him all the anger she felt toward him dissipated, and all that was left was this overwhelming love that consumed them both.

A speck of color caught the corner of her eye, and she rolled over to see Harry lying on his back, fast asleep with his glasses resting on his chest and his hands serving as a pillow behind his head. She rolled onto her stomach, and stared at him. It was at that moment that she knew there would never be anyone else for her, ever. He meant more to her than she could even put into words; she didn’t even want to try because she would be fearful of not doing him justice.

She wasn’t sure how long she laid and watched him sleep peacefully. She couldn’t bring herself to wake him, just as he couldn’t wake her. At the same time though, she found herself studying him in a way she hadn’t before. He looked different without his glasses—younger and unguarded. He wasn’t short, but not exceptionally tall like Ron. And she absolutely adored that messy mop of hair, and how he was constantly trying to make it behave. As if they didn’t already have enough in common, they both had hair that had a mind of its own. She’d had the chance over the last few days to run her hands through that hair of his, and it was becoming a favorite pastime of hers. She couldn’t really put her finger of why—maybe it was just that it was her Harry’s, and she loved the thought of being close to him. He always closed his eyes and sighed when she ran her fingers through his hair, so he obviously liked her to do it as much as she enjoyed it.

Hermione was pulled from her thoughts when she noticed Harry move slightly. She again became interested in his movements, and after he yawned and stretched his arms above his head, he slowly opened his eyes and looked up at her. She smiled at him, which caused him to immediately smile back. He put on his glasses and propped himself up on his elbows, his eyes never leaving hers.

“Hey there, sleepyhead. How was your nap?” he asked.

Hermione reached down off the couch and ran her hand along his jaw line. “It was very refreshing. And yours?”

“Mine was great. I had this dream that you were here and we spent most of our days snogging and generally enjoying the other’s company. It was a great feeling,” he replied as he sat up fully.

Hermione sat up to face him properly and smiled again. “That’s nice, Harry. What do you say we make that dream come true?” She grabbed his shirt and pulled him up on his knees and kissed him almost before the question was out of her mouth. Harry’s arms went around her waist, and they fell back against the couch, kissing feverishly.

Harry pulled his face away from hers and looked into her eyes. His breath was ragged and he struggled to keep himself in check. “You sure know how to wake a guy up,” he said as he pushed a stray piece of hair behind her ear.

Hermione gave him another short kiss and smiled. “I know.” Before he could react to her confidence regarding wake-up snogs, she stood up and walked around where he was still on his knees to the lone box that was sitting next to the bookcases.

Harry was confused. “What are you doing?”

“I never did finish putting these books away. When I found the album Hagrid gave you, I couldn’t resist taking a peek,” she said as she scooted the box over to the couch and next to him. Harry sat up on the couch and Hermione sat next to him, peering into the box with a curious eye. “Is this what I think it is?”

“Yeah, it is,” Harry replied. The apprehension in his voice wasn’t lost on Hermione, and she snuggled up closer to him as he reached in the box and pulled out a heavy book. “This is everything that was left after my parents’ house was destroyed. It was put in a vault, and Sirius left me the key to it after…”

His voice dropped off at the thought of why the key was left for him, and not given to him personally. He pulled the book onto his lap and stared at it. Hermione thought he looked as if he was getting up the courage to open it, so she took her hand in his and gave it a gentle squeeze. “I’m right here, Harry,” she whispered in his ear, “you don’t have to do this alone.”

Finally taking his eyes away from the book, he turned to Hermione. “Thank you. I never got up the nerve to look at any of this when I picked it up. I meant to, but I just couldn’t. When I decided to move here, I threw my album on top of it, and I haven’t thought of it since.”

They both had their eyes trained on the book now, wondering what could possibly be on the other side of the cover. It was Hermione who finally reached across Harry’s body and opened the cover, revealing a page with the Potter family crest on it. She glanced over at Harry. His eyes were wide with the possibilities of what he might be holding. Slowly, Hermione turned the next page, and was surprised at what she found.

It was unexpected, that was for sure. After seeing what lay before them, Hermione chanced a glance over at Harry. His eyes were like huge green globes, and he was staring at the pages. She watched as he ran his hand through his hair, trying to take in what was before him. When he didn’t react with anything but deep breaths and heavy sighs, she lightly touched his arm.

“Harry, are you okay?”

He breathed deep again and looked at her. It wasn’t the look of an almost nineteen-year-old Harry Potter, but that of an uncertain child. “I’m not sure, Hermione. I’ve always wanted to know about my family, and now I realize that I’ve had the answers to all my questions in my possession for a year. I just don’t know what to think of this right now.”

Harry ran his hand over the page, an aged parchment full of diagrams and pictures, some of people who had been dead for many years. Hermione snuggled up to him as they sat on the couch in the library, comforting him as he familiarized himself with the history of the Potters.

*~*~*~*~*

They sat in the library for what seemed like hours, going through the box full of items that belonged to Harry’s parents. The Potter family history was only the beginning. An album full of James and Lily’s wedding pictures was also found, as well as a box full of Harry’s baby pictures. Hermione had found those very cute, and she sat and looked at them over and over again, silently dreaming about how her and Harry’s children would look as babies. Would they have Harry’s green eyes and his messy black hair, or her brown eyes and bushy brown hair? She finally decided that it didn’t matter, as long as the child was healthy and it belonged to her and Harry; that’s what mattered the most.

Late in the evening they decided it was time for bed. They put most of the albums back in the box to look at later, but Harry didn’t want to part with the book that held the family history. He carried it up to the bedroom with him, and Hermione wondered how long it would take him to turn past the first five pages of the book. She did, however, understand his need to feel close to the family he had never known until tonight.

When they reached the bedroom, hand in hand, Harry laid the book gently on the bed and gave Hermione a soft kiss on the cheeks. “I’m going to wash up really quick. Miss me.”

“I will,” she replied, and went about putting on her pajamas. The weather had been fairly cool at the beginning of the week, and she had only brought her long pants to wear to bed. She feared she may get too warm, and called to Harry in the bathroom. “Harry, can I borrow a pair of shorts? These pajama bottoms I have will be way too warm to wear tonight.”

Harry poked his head out the door and motioned for his dresser, his mouth full of toothpaste. “Sure, just grab a pair out of the second drawer. I’ll be out in a minute.” He left the door slightly cracked and went back to brushing his teeth, and Hermione walked over to his dresser and opened the second drawer.

Hermione rummaged around for some that would fit her, and found a gray pair toward the bottom of the drawer. As she pulled them out of the pile, a small box caught her eye and she couldn’t help but wonder what it could be. She had an inkling of an idea, but she didn’t want to jump the gun.

She took the small box in her hand and cautiously glanced to the bathroom door. She felt guilty for getting into Harry’s personal things, but if she was right, then this was something that affected her as well. The box opened slowly, and upon seeing what was inside, she went immediately to the bed and sat down on the edge. Sure she was imagining things, she shook her head before again glancing at what laid inside the box.

It was everything she feared and hoped for all wrapped up in one. Her thoughts all clouded together and raced through her mind. Earlier in the evening she was imagining what their children would look like and smiling at the thought alone. But now, as the realness of the situation was before her, she couldn’t help but be terrified at the idea. It was too early; they weren’t even twenty yet. She sat and stared at the box, not even noticing Harry walk out of the bathroom.

“Hermione, did you find…” Harry’s voice trailed off as he noticed her sitting on the bed staring off into space. He walked slowly toward her, uncertain as to what would change her demeanor in such a short time. “Hermione?” he asked again, coming to stand in front of her and kneeling down on one knee. “What’s the matter, love?”

He didn’t have to wait long for an answer. Slowly, she put the ring box in front of him and looked at him expectantly. “W-What’s this, Harry?” Her voice was shaking, as was the rest of her.

Harry looked down at the floor and cursed himself before returning his eyes to her. “I can explain, Mione. It’s really not what you think.” He reached out and took her hand, and felt her tense up upon doing so.

“I’m listening,” she said, not able to meet his eyes. She was very close to tears, but was unsure if they were tears of pain or joy.

“That ring you’re holding is the engagement ring my Dad gave to my Mum. The only reason I have it is because it was being repaired when they were murdered. Remus came by the hospital and gave it to me after I woke up last year. He knew, Hermione. And so did Sirius. Remus told me he knew of someone who would bring out the beauty of that ring just like my Mum did, and he was right.”

Hermione’s eyes leaped up to Harry’s, almost certain of where this was leading. Oh my God, she thought, he’s proposing. She began to relax her hand in his grasp a little, and he continued with his explanation.

“Someday I’ll give this ring to you, but I know that now would be too soon. I want more than anything for you to wear my ring, just as I want your name next to mine in that book,” he said sincerely, pointing to the Potter family history lying on the bed. “I’m sorry if I scared you, Mione. I guess I underestimated what this week would be like and thought it would be safe in my dresser.”

Hermione’s eyes were full of tears running down her face, and she finally set the ring box down on the bedside table. Her hands went up to cup Harry’s face as he patiently waited for her reaction to what he said. She ran her index finger along the jaw line and brushed her thumb on his lips. There was a moment of anticipation as they both tried to predict the other’s next move, when suddenly Hermione pulled Harry up onto the bed and kissed him as if her whole life depended on it.

They continued to kiss intensely, and when Harry pulled away from her for the first time, minus his shirt, Hermione immediately cut him off before he could vocalize the question on his lips. “Shush, Potter. I know exactly where this is leading and I’m perfectly fine with it. Whatever it is, we can talk about it tomorrow. Tonight I just want you.”

Harry smiled as Hermione’s arms went around his neck and her hands began to twist in his hair. He relaxed and kissed her once more, unable to hold back any longer.

*~*~*~*~*

As the sun poked through the window behind his bed the next morning, Harry woke up with a huge smile on his face. He looked down slightly and saw the sleeping face of the most beautiful person he’d ever known. Not just beautiful physically (though she most certainly was), but also beautiful on the inside. Last night had the possibility of being a downright mess, but by some miracle it had turned into the best night of his life.

He looked down at her again and lightly brushed a stray piece of hair out of her eyes and behind her ear. He didn’t really want to wake her; she was smiling, and every so often would cuddle up closer to him. After one such cuddle, he dropped a light kiss on her forehead and watched her, completely content.

Harry couldn’t be sure exactly how much time has passed when Hermione finally stretched and began to wake up. He paid close attention to her eyes, and when they finally opened, he smiled at her brightly. “Morning, love,” he said.

“Good morning. Did you sleep well?” Her hands once again went to play with his hair, and he had to take a moment to think about what she just asked him.

“How could I not? I had you right here next to me.” Harry kissed her lightly then pulled back. “I owe you an apology. So much of this week has been my way of showing you that I’m ready for a serious relationship with you, and that my life isn’t complete without you. I’m sorry for not being more up front about it.”

Hermione gave a small laugh as she leaned up on one elbow. “Oh, Harry. I thought you would give me more credit than that. I noticed, and you didn’t have to tell me. Do you honestly think I would believe that line about you putting a library in because of all the books you’ve accumulated over the years? That was probably the biggest load of hogwash I’d ever heard come out of your mouth.” Harry gave a fake pout, and Hermione continued. “I’m glad you thought of it, though. I’m also glad you thought to buy a house with three extra bedrooms and a large backyard. That will come in handy a few years down the road.”

“So you’re not angry about the ring? For a moment last night I thought you were going to walk out and leave.”

“No, I could never be angry about something like that. Actually, I was trying to decide if I was excited or scared.”

“And what did you decide? Harry asked.

“I’ve made a compromise. I’m excited to know that one day you’re going to get down on one knee and ask me to marry you, but at the same time, I know that we need time to establish ourselves as a couple before we get married. The truth is, Harry that we’ve been through so much already, and I think we might finally have some normalcy heading our way. I think we owe that much to ourselves before we throw ourselves back into the fire again.”

“I think you’re right. Hell, you’re always right,” Harry said, leaning down for a quick kiss.

A moment of silence followed, where they did nothing but stare into each other’s eyes remembering the events of the previous night. Harry noticed Hermione’s expression change suddenly. “What’s the matter, Mione?”

“I just realized…I have to leave tomorrow.”

The weight of her statement wasn’t lost on Harry. She had to go back to London and her job tomorrow, and they would have to learn to not be with each other every waking moment of the day. For one thing, he had gotten used to waking up next to her. It just didn’t seem right that she had to leave tomorrow, just when they had taken the next step in their relationship. He didn’t like it, but he needed to be supportive if they were going to survive.

“I know. It’s horrible timing, isn’t it?” Harry smirked and leaned over to kiss her, this time lingering on her lips. “We’ll just have to make the most of the time we have.” He kissed her again. “And it’s not like we can’t just Apparate whenever we want to see each other.”

This time Hermione leaned forward and kissed him, and Harry couldn’t think of anywhere else he would rather be than in her arms.

*~*~*~*~*~

Okay, I’m hoping to wrap up this story with the next chapter. As you can see, the end of the week is drawing closer, and that was the whole premise for this story. I do have a sequel in the works, which will deal with how Harry and Hermione deal with their relationship once they’re forced to leave the Hollow and face their other responsibilities while adjusting to their relationship. I’d love to tell you more, but right now the only other thing I can tell you is that Harry will have a new job, and it won’t be what you expect. Thanks again for reading. ~Mandy

I apologize profusely for the amount of time it has taken me to get this chapter out to you. I know I promised it would be the last chapter, but this chapter is already 14 pages long, and I was no where close to being done, so I figured I might as well give you what I have so you all know that I haven’t abandoned this story. The only explanations I have for the 10-month delay are school, work, and writer’s block.

Anyway, thanks as always to my “twin” Penelope for her support, as well as all the others who have gently been pushing me along to get this chapter written. This won’t be the end of the story; I still have one more chapter in store before everything is resolved.

Chapter 10

“How am I ever going to get by without seeing your beautiful face every day?”

It was a warm and sunny day, and Harry and Hermione had chosen to spend their last full day together out in the backyard. They were currently lying on their stomachs with their heads turned toward each other, relaxing and enjoying the day. Hermione couldn’t help but blush at Harry’s question, but she still smiled and rolled to her side as she propped herself up on her elbow.

“Probably much the same way I’m going to have to survive without seeing your messy hair or kissing those lips of yours. It’s going to be a miserable experience,” she said, a small laugh escaping before realizing how true her statement was. She looked over at Harry, who agreed with her by nodding his head, but then glanced down at the blanket as if contemplating something. “What is it, Harry?”

Rolling over to his back, Harry breathed a deep sigh before chancing a glance at Hermione. He wasn’t quite sure he wanted to bring this up right now, but they had made a promise to be open and talk about everything, so he gave it a shot. “I was just thinking...that maybe you could just move in here? You could just Apparate to work, or I could have the fireplace connected to the Floo Network, and it would save you having to pay rent. And I could think of many other,” he continued as he scooted closer to her on the blanket and laid his hand on her hip, “reasons.” He leaned forward and gave her a kiss, silently praying she didn’t need any persuading.

“You don’t know how tempting that is, but I don’t think it’s the best idea right now,” Hermione replied with a soft smile. She noticed the disappointment on Harry’s face, and continued with an explanation. “I want to, Harry, I really do, but I don’t think we can jump into this that easily. You’ll probably be starting a job soon, and I would hate for you to have to get connected to the Floo Network at this point in time; you enjoy your privacy too much.”

Harry breathed a huge sigh; she had a point, even though he didn’t want to admit it. As much as this week had told him just how much he needed Hermione in his life, he also knew that he needed to finish putting his life back together before the could move forward completely. If he didn’t fix that first, then it would only cause problems down the road, and that was the last thing he wanted. He turned over on his side again, and saw her looking at him apprehensively. He reached out for her hand and intertwined it with his before bringing it up to his mouth and kissing the back of her hand softly and smiling warmly at her. “You’re right, as usual, but I still don’t like the idea of not waking up next to you every morning. I know it’s only been a week, but I’ve grown rather attached to waking up next to you.”

“Mmm, don’t remind me,” she replied, snuggling up to Harry. “I guess we’ll just have to remember that just because we’re not moving in together, it doesn’t mean that we won’t ever see each other. I’m sure you wouldn’t mind me spending weekends here, and you’re more than welcome to stay at my flat when you’re in London.” She looked up at him, and couldn’t help laughing at the look he had on his face; it was downright boisterous. “Harry Potter, do I even want to know what’s going through your mind right now?”

“Oh, it’s nothing bad, Hermione. I just had this image that you were still living with your parents, but don’t ask me what gave me that idea. And then you mentioned staying with you when I was in town, and I freaked for a second. But it would be nice to see where you’ve been living for the last year; in fact, I’m looking forward to it.” He had a smile on his face, but a fear was beginning to settle in the pit of his stomach. With him and Hermione having already discussed moving in together and marriage, it was inevitable that sometime in the near future, he was going to be introduced to Hermione’s parents.

Hermione opened her mouth to say something, but shut it before anything came out. She had immediately noticed the change in Harry’s demeanor when the slightest mention of her parents was made, but she wanted to let it go for now. This was their last day together for a while, and she didn’t want anything to ruin it. She wanted to enjoy the rest of the time they had together, not spend it reassuring Harry about the things in the future that were uncertain.

*~*~*~*~*~

Later in the afternoon, Harry lay on the couch in the library. Hermione was next to him, sound asleep, and he was looking through the Potter Family History they found the previous evening. He still didn’t know what to make of it all, and he wished it had more than just names and dates in it. He would have liked to see pictures of them all, as well as some information concerning what they did for a living and so forth. However, he figured that now that he knew the names, he could look all that up and find out anyway.

He had finally made it past the first five pages of the book, and now was finding some very interesting names. A while back, he had seen the name Weasley, as well as Black. This perturbed him, because Sirius had never mentioned anything to him about them being related, even if it was distant. But he then remembered what Sirius had said about every pureblood family being related in some way. He supposed it was a possibility that Sirius didn’t even know.

“Hermione.”

Harry hated to wake her up when she was resting so peacefully, but she really needed to see this, mostly because he didn’t believe his own eyes. Hermione shifted slightly but didn’t wake, so he decided to try again, this time with a light shake of her arm. “Hermione, honey, wake up.”

“What is it?” Hermione groggily opened her eyes and looked up to Harry. “Is something the matter?”

“No...well, I don’t think so. I was just looking at this, and couldn’t believe my eyes. I needed someone to confirm that I’m not crazy.” He shifted on the sofa so Hermione could sit up next to him, and moved the book onto her lap so she could see what had gotten him shaken up. “I don’t know what to think about this, Hermione. I was half-expecting to see Weasley and Black in here, but this is a bit of a shock.” He traced his finger back to where he was looking before, and pointed it out to Hermione. It read Jonathan James Potter (b.1800) married Victoria Catherine Gryffindor (b.1801) in 1825.

Upon reading what Harry had pointed out to her, Hermione’s eyes shot up to meet his. “Harry, this is…wow.”

“Tell me about it. Hermione, Edward Potter was my dad’s great grandfather. I guess the biggest question I have right now is if this Margaret Gryffindor, my great-great-grandmother, is of any relation to the man himself.”

“You know who would probably know, don’t you Harry? I’m sure he would at least have some kind of information about the Gryffindors. It might be the best place to start.”

Harry set the book down and leaned his head forward to rest in his hands. Finding the name Gryffindor in the family history was the last thing he expected. Many people had suspected while he was in Hogwarts that he was Godric Gryffindor’s heir, but there was never any evidence to prove it. And now, one year after the defeat of Voldemort, the proof quite possibly was sitting in his lap.

Soon Harry was so deep in thought that he’d forgotten Hermione was sitting next to him. He looked up slowly to see her sitting patiently next to him, waiting for him to come to grips with the new information the Potter Family History had brought him. She laid her hands over his, and smiled warmly at him.

“Are you okay, Harry?”

“Yeah, I am,” he said, sitting up straight. He took a deep breath and continued. “Can you imagine the stir this would have caused if I had it three years ago? I can just see someone finding out that there was possible concrete proof that linked me with Godric Gryffindor. I no longer would be able to accomplish anything on my own, but because of my bloodlines.” Harry gave a heavy sigh, and leaned back against the back of the sofa, resting his hands behind his head. Hermione nestled up close to him, wrapping her hands around his middle and resting her head on his chest.

They sat contently that way for a long time. Hermione didn’t even have to wonder what was running through Harry’s mind at the moment—she just knew. He was most likely beginning to question whether it was truly him that was able to defeat Voldemort, or the possible presence of Godric Gryffindor’s blood. She was afraid he would begin to believe it were the truth if she didn’t convince him otherwise soon.

“Harry, do you remember what Dumbledore always told us what makes us who we are?”

Harry sat up and looked at her, once again amazed at Hermione’s ability to make him feel better. He knew he had a tendency to let things just as this take control of him, but the knowledge of this fault didn’t make it any easier to overcome. “It’s our choices, more than our abilities that make us who we are.” Hermione’s hand immediately covered his, and she smiled at him softly.

“He’s a smart man, but I don’t have to tell you, do I? You defeated Voldemort because you made good choices, not because Godric Gryffindor might have passed some abilities down to you.” She turned so she was looking him square in the eye, and made sure she had his full attention. “You, Harry—not your great-great grandparents—you.”

He smiled appreciatively at her, a silent thank you for once again saving him from himself. He noted they were still holding hands, and couldn’t help but glance down to them. His thoughts traveled to his choices and began taking note of the ones he regretted as well as those he was glad he made. As he sat with Hermione and held her hand, he couldn’t even rationalize his decision to cut himself off from everyone last year. He now knew how much he was jeopardizing his future—not just with Hermione, but with everyone that was important in his life.

“You still with me, Harry?” He looked up at the sound of her voice, and saw the concern on her face. “You spaced out for a minute. Is something wrong?”

Remembering what he was thinking about, he smiled back at Hermione. “Not a thing, love. I was just thinking about the best decision I ever made.” He cupped her face softly, and leaned forward and kissed her with everything he had. She was the best thing in his life, and he felt the best way to let her know was to show her. As the kiss got deeper, he couldn’t help but wish that she wasn’t leaving later in the evening. With that thought running through his head, he pulled back and looked at her, a tear threatening to fall from his eye. He choked it back and stared at her a moment. “I don’t want you to leave. It might sound selfish, Hermione, but dammit I don’t care. I feel like I’m losing you all over again.”

“Oh Harry, you’re not losing me…and you never will. I’m sure we’ll have plenty of opportunities to see each other. In fact, since I’m certain you know where the Ministry is, I’m counting on you to drop in and save me now and again from certain death caused by boredom. And,” she said, running her finger seductively down his chest, “nothing says you can’t stay a night here and there at my flat. My sofa is very comfortable.” Harry’s eyes got wide at the mention of her sofa. She laughed heartily at him and gave him a quick kiss that he was too shocked to return. “I’m just kidding, Harry. I would never make you sleep on the sofa...unless of course there’s a good reason.”

He relaxed a bit once he realized she was only joking, and breathed a sigh of relief. “I don’t even know where your flat is, Hermione.” He leaned back against the arm of the sofa, pulling her gently with him so she was sitting with her back against his chest. His arms went around her front, and they both sighed with the comfort they felt in each other’s arms. “What’s it like?”

Hermione relaxed and leaned her head into the crook of his shoulder. She felt the light kiss he dropped on her neck, and started to think of how to describe her flat to him. She’d never really thought of it, really. It was just where she lived, and ever since she had moved in, she knew there was something missing. It wasn’t a home to her; it was just where she slept and stored all her belongings. She turned to look at Harry and a thought entered her mind. “I have a better question. What do you think it’s like?”

He walked right into that one. Of course Hermione wouldn’t be able to outwardly describe her own flat, just as he would find it difficult to describe his own house. But he knew Hermione like the back of his hand, and realized he had a good idea of how her flat looked. “Well, you obviously have tons of books. And lots of pictures on the wall, but only two of them on the mantle; one of them is a picture of you and your parents that was taken the summer after sixth year, and the other is one of you, me, and Ron that was taken about a week before I left. If I remember right, we were in the Common Room in front of the fire, and Colin snapped a picture of the three of us in front of the fire. Ron and I were playing chess, and you were as attentive as I’d ever seen you when the two of us were playing chess.”

Hermione turned to face him of the sofa and fell back into his embrace. She couldn’t help but smile at the fact that he knew she had that picture. She remembered that night like it was yesterday…

...She lay on the floor quietly, watching Harry and Ron play chess for what had to be the millionth time in the seven years they’d been at Hogwarts. To the casual observer, it looked like she was paying attention to the game, but her mind was on other things. Harry had been acting odd since yesterday morning, and especially since he went for a walk yesterday evening. He refused to tell her where he went, which in itself was odd.

The fact that he wouldn’t tell her about it led her to believe that something serious was going on. If he had simply gone for a walk to clear his mind and relax, then he would have told her. No, this was serious, and it scared her. She remembered having a discussion with Ron last week about the war and their belief that Harry would no doubt be right in the thick of it. They had agreed that the time was getting closer, and they voiced their fears for Harry and his well-being. Vocally, they told each other that Harry would be fine and would come out of the final battle alive and well, but she knew that on the inside, they both had doubts.

Since that discussion with Ron, she had felt very guilty, almost to the point that it hurt. She recognized it as fear—of losing Harry. She had long ago admitted to herself that she was in love with Harry, but couldn’t bring herself to say anything to him because of everything else he had on his plate. She hated that she doubted his ability to finally defeat Voldemort. She wanted more than anything to see that horrible evil gone from their lives forever, but just as she wanted to see it gone, she knew just how bad he could make their lives…and their deaths.

She was pulled out of her thoughts when Ron stood up. He stretched and yawned, and she realized just how late it was.

“Go on, Ron. Losers clean up tonight.” Hermione’s heart clenched at Harry’s statement, even though she knew he was just talking about chess.

Hermione busied herself with her book (Hogwarts, A History—which she was reading for probably the hundredth time) and waited for Ron to be out of earshot before she leaned down to help Harry clean up the battered chess pieces. She looked at him longingly, and waited for him to look up.

“Is there a reason you’re staring at me, Hermione?” He had a tone that suggested he was annoyed with her.

“What’s going on, Harry? I know you’re hiding something, and I wish you would confide in someone. You know I won’t say anything to anyone, whatever it is.”

Harry sat back on the floor, and heaved a sigh. He took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. “Hermione, I need you to trust me on this one. Trust that I have everything under control. I will tell you this: When I went for that “walk” last night, I went to see Professor Dumbledore. Please don’t ask why, though. You’ll find out soon enough, but this is one thing I can’t get into with you right now. I hope you understand,” he said as he hung his head.

“I don’t like it, but I understand. I know what’s coming, Harry. I’m not stupid.” Harry’s eyes shot up to lock with hers; he looked a second away from crying. “I’m going to bed. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“I never went to bed that night,” Harry said as he pushed a strand of hair behind her ear.

“I never knew that.”

Hermione rested her head against his chest, and they fell into silence. Harry traced circles on the small of her back as he held her close, occasionally dropping kisses on her forehead. “I’m sorry for the way I treated you that night. I didn’t go to bed because I felt horrible about it. Dumbledore asked me not to tell you or Ron about me leaving; that’s why I was being so secretive about everything. I think he thought the two of you would make an attempt to change my mind, and as much as I hate to admit it, he was right. I don’t like many of the things I did, Hermione, but it got rid of Voldemort, and that’s all I’ve ever wanted. I just want a life where I’m not looking over my shoulder every five seconds.”

“You’ve got that, Harry. Now what are you going to do with it?” Hermione asked as she lifted her head and looked into his eyes.

Without a word and almost no hesitation, Harry lifted his head and brought his lips to hers.

*~*~*~*~*~

Three hours later Harry was standing with Hermione in what was supposed to be her bedroom while she was visiting. She had moved most of her things to Harry’s room after the second night she was there, but a few of her things still remained in the room.

Hermione began to do a once-over in the room to make sure she had everything. Harry sat the bag they’d packed from his room on the chair and started looking as well. “What all did you still have in here?”

“I think it was just a few books. I wasn’t sure when I packed how this week was going to work out. I brought the books in the event that I spent the whole time not talking to you. It was my worst-case scenario.”

Harry walked up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist. “So how many pages did you get read while you were here?” He had a smirk on his face, and Hermione had to admit that she loved that smirk of his.

“Five pages on the first night before I fell asleep. I woke up halfway through the night and that was the end of the catch-up reading. You had, and have, my full attention.” She reached up and gave him a quick kiss and went back to packing her books. It was still hard for her to believe that the week turned out as well as it had, but she wasn’t going to complain. Up until the time she arrived on his doorstep a week ago, she was furious with Harry. But when she came face to face with him, all that mattered was that they were together. She was aware they still had problems to iron out, but if this week was any indication they would be solved as their relationship grew stronger.

She finished packing her things, and stood up straight to take a deep breath. Harry turned to see her there and smiled. “Got it all, love?” She nodded. “I’ll walk down to the alley with you so you don’t have to carry all these bags yourself.”

“You don’t have to do that, Harry. I charmed them smaller in the first place, so it was no big deal. I can handle it.”

“Woman, you need to recognize it when I make excuses to spend more time with you. I’m going to draw this out as long as possible.” He took her in his arms, and kissed her thoroughly. When they were both breathless he smiled, knowing she couldn’t deny him the idea of spending more time with her; it was the same thing she wanted.

*~*~*~*~*~

After they said their good-byes, Harry returned to the house and sat down on the couch. He was lonely in the house, and it was a weird feeling for him. He had been content with a quiet house for a year, but after spending a weekend with Ron and having Hermione there for a week, he no longer wanted this lifestyle. It was time for him to re-enter the wizarding community.

Sitting on the couch, he remembered the discussion with Hermione while they said good-bye in the alley.

I’m going to the Ministry tomorrow to set up a Floo connection,” he told her, “I don’t want you to rely on sending owls all the time.”

A worried look fell upon her face. “Harry, you don’t have to do that. Everything will be fine.”

“I’m not being paranoid, Hermione. I can get a restricted connection. I’ll set it up so only people I know will have access. Anyway, you shouldn’t have to walk so far every time you want to visit. This will be…faster.”

“Harry James! I should have known you had ulterior motives.”

“Okay, so maybe I do. I don’t see you objecting to them, though. And that Floo connection goes both ways, you know.”

Excitedly, Hermione wrapped her arms around him and hugged him tight. It was a hug she’d given him on numerous occasions, and he would never get tired of getting a hug from her. She put all her emotion into them, and they said more than words ever could.

Remembering that moment, Harry laid down on the couch and relaxed, the memory of Hermione’s hugs easing his mind.

*~*~*~*~*~

Hermione Apparated into the bedroom of her London flat, and immediately let out a long and heavy breath. She put her bags in the corner, and almost flopped down on the bed. Her eyes closed and she couldn’t help but think about the healing that lay ahead of Harry. She was more than happy to be a part of his healing, but she was also proud of the lengths Harry was going to to get his life back in order. Not only was he willing to connect his fireplace to the Floo Network, but he also planned on setting up a meeting with Professor Dumbledore to discuss a number of matters.

Hermione was surprised at the direction their discussion took as they reached the Apparation point. Harry had been acting different the whole time they’d been walking, but she hadn’t been expecting this; it was almost as if he felt she needed to know he was serious about getting his life back. “I’ll owl Dumbledore once I get back to the house. I want to discuss some job opportunities with him as well as show him the Potter Family History and ask him about the Gryffindor line.”

“That sounds like a good idea, Harry. Do me a favor and let me know what he has to say, will you? I’m curious as well, although probably not as curious as you.”

Hermione knew Harry didn’t have to work, but the fact that he felt he needed to, made her smile internally. It told her that he no longer felt the need to hide from the wizarding community, and that he was ready to leave the past behind him.

“I hope Dumbledore can help me decide on a career. I know for a fact that I can no longer fathom being an Auror, and playing Quidditch would draw more attention to me than I care to even think about. But I also know that I need to decide on a job that would mean something to me; I don’t want to be someone’s token employee.”

Those words stuck in Hermione’s mind. She couldn’t help but think about what kind of job Professor Dumbledore might come up with for Harry. Their relationship had been strained in the past, but they seemed to come to an understanding toward the middle of seventh year that Harry was no longer a child, and therefore shouldn’t be treated like one. Once that was settled, she noticed a change for the better in Harry’s attitude. Even though he wouldn’t admit it then, Hermione could see that Dumbledore was very important to Harry, and vice versa.

When her mind had wandered back to her flat from its long trip, she realized how dramatically her life had changed in the span of one week. It was now time for her and Harry to test the waters in the real world, and find a way to make their relationship work. It was her new passion in life—to make it work with Harry, whatever it may take.

*~*~*~*~*~

The next morning, Harry’s eyes were fighting a losing battle with the sun. His first night without Hermione was a restless one, but not only because of her absence; he was also anxious to hear from Dumbledore. He had sent Hedwig to him yesterday after he returned home, asking for a meeting sometime soon.

He looked at the clock next to his bed to see it was just after nine in the morning. With a sigh, he sat up and looked longingly at the empty side of the bed. He could still see the imprint her head made in the pillow, and it made him feel better—it was almost as if everything would be fine as long as that imprint was still there.

Determined to keep moving, he set about getting ready for the day. He was going to the Ministry to tend to some matters, even though Hermione insisted they were unnecessary. As he came out from the shower, he saw Hedwig sitting on her perch holding a letter. Still in just his towel, he walked over and released the letter and read it.

Harry,

Thank you so much for your letter—it was unexpected but certainly welcome. I’m glad to hear that you’ve decided to move on and not live in the past.

I would be more than happy to discuss possible careers with you. I’m not sure how busy you are, but if you could make it to Hogwarts today, I think I might have something that might interest you. I’ll keep this afternoon open. If you can’t make it, send an owl and we can set up another time soon.

Albus Dumbledore

Harry smiled upon hearing from his former Headmaster, and proceeded to get dressed as fast as possible. He was just about ready to walk out the door when he had a thought. “Hedwig,” he called, and he searched frantically in a drawer for a piece of parchment and a quill. He found both and wrote a quick note.

Hermione,

I’m Apparating to Hogsmeade this morning, and going to Hogwarts to speak with Dumbledore. I have some business to take care of at the Ministry, so I’ll stop by to see you—maybe we can catch a late lunch or an early dinner, depending on how long I’m at Hogwarts. See you soon.

Love, Harry

Once Hedwig was off with his note to Hermione, Harry walked out the door and continued his journey to achieving normality.

*~*~*~*~*~

Venturing onto the grounds of Hogwarts School was honestly something Harry never thought he would do again. The night he left at the end of seventh year was difficult for him; Hogwarts was the first place that ever felt like home to him. He hadn’t really thought about it, but now that he was standing on the edge of the grounds after walking from Hogsmeade, it felt like he was coming home again.

As he got closer to the front entrance, Harry began to wonder how he would get into the Headmaster’s office, as Professor Dumbledore had not told him the current password to him office. His answer was soon answered, however, when the doors opened to show Dumbledore standing there waiting for him. And even though he had not yet reached the doors, Harry was certain he could see the glimmer in his old Headmaster’s eyes. Upon closer inspection, Harry also noticed that the Headmaster was dressed down more than he ever remembered seeing him. Dumbledore seemed to have traded in his radiant robes for a simple and casual black.

“Professor, it’s good to see you again.” He extended his hand to Dumbledore, who shook it immediately.

“Yes, Harry, it’s nice to see you as well. What do you say we take a walk around the grounds? It’s too nice of a day to be cooped up in that stuffy office.”

Harry nodded in agreement, and they set off at a leisurely pace. Minutes passed in silence, but Harry’s mind was going in many different directions. He was taking in the wonderful scenery that had always calmed him, and at the same time wondering where the upcoming conversation would take him.

“Tell me, Harry…what were your first thoughts when Hagrid told you that you were a wizard?”

Dumbledore’s question surprised Harry. He turned his head to the Headmaster, but Dumbledore continued to look straight ahead. Harry knew exactly what his first thoughts were when Hagrid visited him on his eleventh birthday, but vocalizing them was different; he felt the need to be eloquent for some reason. Unfortunately, Harry had never been known as eloquent. “Er…I think I was trying to decide if I was asleep and having some kind of detailed dream. The whole idea sounded too good to be true in the beginning.”

“That is understandable, Harry. And have you ever spoke with Miss Granger about how she found out she was a witch?”

Upon hearing Dumbledore mention Hermione, Harry became especially curious with where this conversation was going. What did the way in which he and Hermione found out about the wizarding world have to do with anything? He thought he was coming to get career advice, and instead he was having a conversation about a topic he hadn’t thought about in quite a long time. “She mentioned it once during first year, but not in great detail. Other than that, it’s never come up in conversation before.”

They walked in silence once again, and Harry grew agitated more and more as they continued through the grounds. If he wasn’t so grateful that Dumbledore had made time for him on such short notice, he might have been mad. Instead, he held his tongue and hoped that something profound would be said soon. He didn’t have to wait long.

“In the past Harry, Muggle-born students have been sent letters informing them of their acceptance to Hogwarts, and then either Professor McGonagall or I would visit them to explain the wizarding world and answer any questions the family might have. However, Minerva and I have noticed an increase in Muggle-born students, and we are frankly unable to relate to some of the problems and anxieties the students may face during their first year at Hogwarts.”

Harry stopped walking and gave his old Headmaster an inquisitive gaze. “What exactly are you getting at, Professor?”

“I’m curious, Harry, if you would be interested in becoming an emissary for Hogwarts. You would visit the homes of the Muggle-born students, and answer any questions they have about the world they never knew existed. I believe you can give them the insight Minerva and I could never give, having once been in their position.”

Okay, this is not at all what I was expecting. Harry looked down to the ground and scratched his head. He wasn’t sure what to make of this proposal, but he had to admit that it sounded challenging. He did, however, need to know more before making a decision. He looked back up, and saw Dumbledore gazing into the blue sky, not at all looking like he’d just offered a job to Harry. “Professor…”

“Remember, Harry, that these are Muggle-born students. They have no idea that Harry Potter is the Boy Who Lived, so they certainly will not be asking for autographs. By the time they figure it out, your job will be done.”

He hadn’t thought of that, but he had to admit that it made the job sound even more appealing. He had always thought of Hogwarts as his first home, and now the thought of sharing that with other students was an opportunity he couldn’t pass up.

“Before you make a decision, Harry, perhaps you should discuss it with Miss Granger. I am certain she will have plenty to say on the subject, and I want you to be certain this is the right direction for you. It will entail plenty of traveling, but will also give you a good deal of recreational time. Weigh the pros and cons, and when you’ve made your decision come back and see me again, and we can finalize everything.”

“Yes, sir.”

“I know you have more you wish to discuss with me Mr. Potter, but I do have a rather pressing engagement. We can discuss it when you return.”

“Certainly, sir. Thank you for this opportunity.”

As Harry said this, Dumbledore was already making his way back up to the castle. He stood and watched the older wizard walk away, and thanked him again silently for all the help he had given him over the years. He might not have always gone about it in the best way, but Dumbledore always did know what was best for Harry, even before he knew himself.

Just as Harry was starting to start back toward Hogsmeade, he heard someone yell his name; he turned to see Dumbledore facing him, and Harry could clearly see the smile on his face. And although they were quite a few meters apart, Harry could hear him perfectly clear. “Welcome back, Mr. Potter.”

Did you think I abandoned the story? Well, the truth is that I almost did. In fact, I think that was only a couple weeks ago that I was considering officially abandoning the story.

So much has happened since I started writing the story: two books have been published. When I started writing the story, I felt it necessary to do my best to keep the crew “in character” as much as possible. However, that has become increasingly more difficult. Not to mention, I have found myself drifting away from the fandom.

Not to mention, I've spent the last three years extremely busy because I went back to school. I was taking classes full-time and working part-time in addition, so my free time was very limited.

But, I'm graduating on Saturday. I'll still be working this summer before I start teaching, but I won't have the stress that I had before.

So to make a long story short, I've decided to finish this story. I started re-reading all the older chapters yesterday so that I could re-familiarize myself with the plot, and within the next week or so I will start writing.

Watch for a new chapter. I want to finish the story before the end of the summer!!

Mandy

MPotter77

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