Trust by MPotter77

Rating: PG13
Genres: Angst, Romance
Relationships: Harry & Hermione
Book: Harry & Hermione, Books 1 - 5
Published: 08/12/2003
Last Updated: 29/05/2006
Status: In Progress

Sometimes you just need to trust what's in your heart.




1. Prologue
-----------

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.

******

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.

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

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.”

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

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.



2. Chapter 1-Revelations
------------------------

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.

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

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 20th,
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.”

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

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.



3. Chapter 2
------------

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.



4. Chapter 3
------------

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.



5. Chapter 4
------------

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?



6. Chapter 5
------------

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.



7. Chapter 6
------------

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.

********

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.



8. Chapter 7
------------

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.

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

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.



9. Chapter 8
------------

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.



10. CHAPTER 9
-------------

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



11. Chapter 10
--------------

**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.”



12. AUTHOR'S NOTE
-----------------



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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