Solitude.
She knew too much of it. The meaning wrapped around her being. Until it danced around the shadows of her home, creeping into the corners, always there. Like a reminder of the desolation she found herself facing.
And she hated it. She was repulsed at the mere sight of what she knew was her outcome.
The unexpected outcome.
After all, it wasn't supposed to end up like this. No, no. Nothing was supposed to have lead to this...
A this she can't explain even with all her knowledge of the English language.
The only explanation she could mutter, whisper with her hoarse voice, was that this wasn't anything she deserved.
Pain, bitter lonely pain.
Her body then hunched over, she bit her lip and tried with all her might to hold back the tears that would surely fall down and mark a path down her pale, torn cheek.
The music sheets, she held in her feeble hand, fluttered down to the floor gracefully as she released her hold on them. A parchment skidded on the floor, and the rip threatening to become bigger than it already was, at the left hand corner, grabbed her attention.
She stretched her pliant body to grab hold of this elusive parchment. Her finger traced the tear as it pointed down... down towards the center.
Its heart.
Her own beat rapidly as she recognized this sheet. Their sheet of music.
A horrible, dreadful sound echoed around the cabin then. She looked around in fright, but then calmed down as she realized that this burdened voice, with such anguish laced in its core, was her own.
The first sound she had voiced out loud in a month.
Quickly she grasped this parchment in her hands and walked over to the piano. She inspected it carefully in her hand as the memories flooded. As they consumed her.
"What's this?"
Puffs of dust floated over head and a series of hacking coughs assaulted her. A low chuckle was heard. She sniffed and wiped her nose hurriedly with her hand.
Her eyes glared at the man that possessed a shaggy mane of wild raven locks. The slivers of light that filtered through the cracks of the attic window, made his presence seem divine, as they showered its rays on him.
He grinned at her reproachful glare and shook some of the dust out of her bushy, yet curly hair. His hand hovered idly there. As if it didn't have a care in the world. She tried to keep the pretense of being angry at him, but try as she might, she could not.
"You, Mr. Potter, should know better than to laugh at my expense."
His long-fingered hands played with a curling strand of her honey-tainted hair. He twirled it around his finger.
"Have I ever told you you have lovely hair?"
She brushed him off and flushed as she tried to draw attention from her hideous hair.
"This?" she gestured at it. "You must be off your rocker!"
"Only for you," he smiled.
"Oh! You little -- you just don't want to face my wrath and are distracting me with compliments!"
He continued with -- as it seemed -- his new hobby. Admiring her hair.
"Hmm... well, you can't deny that it's working?"
"I'll have you for your cheek!" And so she grabbed a frilly pillow to her right and smacked him across his face.
He let go of her hair and gazed, astonished. But that was before he let out a battle roar and tackled her. She shrieked as she tried to escape his grasp, but in the midst of her 'escape' her foot caught a corner of some rug, thus making her trip.
She heard him laughing heartily.
"You can run, but -- no you can't even do that," he said teasingly.
She made a disgruntled noise. "That wasn't fair, bloody rug."
"Don't blame the rug now."
She held her head up high and tried to get back some of her dignity. "If you continue with this Potter --"
"-- Ooh! Using surnames now?"
"--Then I'll have you know that the couch is expecting you tonight."
That did it. She smirked, yes her trump card ruled.
"Hermione, you know I love you?"
She turned her head away, not her body, as she was still flat on front. Never mind that there was a huge throbbing around her ankle area. Bloody rug...
"Hermione!" he whined. "I didn't mean it! You are the Queen, a Goddess. The love of my life! I'm the love of your life! You wouldn't do that to your LOYL? Would you?"
She could almost see his Bambi-innocent look he was pulling on her. He was lucky she loved him, bastard...
"Well my LOYL, get over here and bloody help me up!"
The tears trailed down, expectedly. But her mouth twitched into a smile. Her Harry, her love of her life.
Oh yes, he was one in a million.
Was... as in past tense. She had not heard of him in weeks, months...
She didn't even know if he was dead. She could only fathom the possibilty.
"Hermione... I'm serious. You won't send me to the couch, right?"
Now she couldn't look away from his pleading eyes. Sure she had her uber cool trump card, but she was again reminded of his.
"You know I can't resist that look..."
He massaged her ankle as he flashed her a wicked grin. "Oh, for anything?"
"Mmmm... anything."
She threw her head back in pleasure as Harry's hands worked wonders around her bruised ankle.
"You mean if I turn the charm factor up a bit I can... lets say... draw you into doing a quickie right here, right now?"
Her eyes widened dramatically. "Harry! We are in the Dursleys' attic for Merlin's sake!"
"Ruin a fantasy, won't you?"
"Oh c'mon! Tell me making love in a floor above Dudley wanking isn't a fantasy of yours? I'd say that is rather --"
"--the opposite? Yeah, yeah. I just thought that since we had the whole romantic atmosphere of an attic and uncovering my mum's things was, you know? Romantic..."
"You are one horny little --"
"I'm a red-blooded male." He shrugged.
She shook her head, an amused smile on her lips. "Mmmhmm, sure. Hide behind this stereotypical male defense to excuse your rather --"
"Well, can you blame a bloke? Here you are helpless," he pointed at her ankle, "and then you writher around in pleasure at the touch of my hands..."
His hands kneaded into her skin as he winked.
"Mmmm... this little -- Oh! -- pleading isn't going to work... immediately."
"I guess I'll try harder then, eh." Damn him...
"Dudley wanking, remember?"
"Hermione, that just is going to put me off for a whole year..."
Years...
Yes, two years since he walked out on her.
It wasn't even one, she reminded herself bitterly, but two... and the way things were going, the number would keep increasing. Until... she knew for sure that he wasn't going to come back.
To hold her, to whisper wanton things.
Even to annoy her... Oh how she missed him and his imperfections. His aggravating habits that made her love him even more...
To the point that she felt she would combust at any given moment.
She still felt the same, but now the emotion was more of despair... pain, bitter pain.
"Why don't we at least try to get something done?"
"My offer still stands..." Harry said off handedly.
She limped toward the boxes near a tiny window that was cramped at a dank corner. She tried not to be repulsed at some of the wafting smells curling around that way. Her wand peeked out as she chanted cobwebs away.
"Hermione? Where are you?"
She didn't bother answering him as her foot stumbled over some... papers? What was this? She crouched low and shuffled around pieces of parchment...
She quietly gasped.
"Hermione!" Harry said urgently. "What happened? Where --"
He shut up as he crept near her and spotted the same thing.
"Is that what I think...?"
"Harry..."
Both said nothing, but were drawn to the initials of 'L.E.' over a folder hosting pieces of music sheets. Along with parchments including lyrics to accompany them.
He stretched out a shaking arm and touched the ragged parchment. She merely watched him from the corner of her eye, nervous.
Sure, they came here to see if there were any possessions left by Lily. But to be truthful, they expected none...
She let her eyes wander at the scribbles alongside the margins...
She didn't think they would actually come to something of Lily's that seemed so... personal.
"I guess I found what we are looking for."
Her eyes skimmed the music notes. They seemed familar at each passing and her fingers twitched, begging to play their
message.
Her breath hitched in her throat. The shock and impact she was experiencing hampered her abilty to play.
After all it had been a long time since she touched, saw this parchment.
Not that it was her fault. No she had searched high and low for it. For a distraction, something to have of him that was between them.
An object that only he and she knew of. One that understood... comprehended how she could possibly feel at the moment. Abandoned.
Slowly she propped it in front of her, against the piano ledge.
The tears traveled down their familiar path. She paid them no mind as her pale fingers hovered over the keys.
Hesitation...
"Hermione?"
She tossed her curling hair over her shoulder as she raised her eyebrows at her welcomed intruder. He threw her a guilty smile but she beckoned him with an amused shake of her head.
"You called?" she said from the piano bench.
"Always, pumpkin."
"Harry, what did I tell you about pet names?"
"Darling, every couple has one! And you practically offed Ron when he called you 'Mione --"
"-- I hardly see the appeal in being called someone's knee." She snorted.
"-- So that is why that is off the list," he continued.
He walked over from the wooden doorway and crossed the shoddy looking green couch. His hand rested on her shoulder as he looked out the glass window positioned behind the piano.
She closed her eyes and relaxed at his presence. Silence.
"Mmmm... it feels great being here. Alone..."
She coughed in her hand.
"...Alone with you. To escape from them... You and me, away from the rest of the world --"
"That is just a few minutes away..."
"I am trying to make a point Hermione..."
She smiled and cocked her head to the side, looking at him with a questionably.
"Anyway, what do you want?"
"Ouch. I have to have a reason?"
She wasn't amused.
"Okay, okay... I was wondering if you would like to... do me a favor?"
She waved a hand, indicating for him to continue.
"Well, since you love playing the piano so much, I was wondering... if you would..."
"Spit it out!"
He seemed to find pleasure at the note of exasperation she had.
"Would you mind playing this?"
He reached into the interior of his cloak and out came a shabby folder. She recognized it immediately and even more so when he specifically handed her one parchment. The parchment.
"Harry... are you sure?"
She looked him in the eye, his stare wavered.
"I would love it if you would..."
And she did.
Her fingers drummed, pounded against the keys. More than what was necessary, a bit too rough for the demand the song required.
But it was the only way she could get rid of... no, make justice of this pain she felt.
The notes hung in the air. Morbid, sorrowful. Full of a person that knew what she was going through.
A deserted lover in the midst of a war.
A dreamer that was brought up from this world and was all of a sudden thrust into reality. Bitter reality with all its harsh rules, consequences.
A fish flopping on solid ground, knowing its end was here. Knowing only its death.
An animal separated from its family... where it belonged.
The blood in her arteries and veins throbbed painfully as they joined, in sync with the melody. She threw her head back and opened her eyes. Taking in the glorious view the glass window provided her. Her eyes roamed at this canvas, her fingers played on...
But suddenly...
Suddenly she stopped.
"Harry?"
She looked up at him. His face was twisted into some melancholy _expression. His eyes were closed and this added to the effect. The effect of being confined by the music, foreboding music. That made you know truly about vulnerability.
Slowly he opened them and looked at her, wearily.
"Why did you stop?"
She found that she could not speak then. His face... oh no, no.
It was nothing. She repeated to herself. She saw no one from the window. No, it was probably some random person. Someone with black hair...
"Hermione, play. Play it. God, play, play... the music... She knew, she knew."
He crumbled upon the piano bench, his entire figure shaking. He hid his face and cradled it in shaking hands.
Her heart tore into two.
"Harry... oh, Harry."
She inched closer to him and wrapped her arms around him. Squeezing him for all she could. After a few minutes he looked up at her and the tears gathering up in the corner of his brilliant green eyes, was visible.
"What am I doing here Hermione? GOD, WHAT THE HELL AM I DOING HERE?!"
She trembled at his outburst. He looked guilty at her troubled _expression.
"The war is sill going on and... and here I am like a coward, hiding, doing nothing. Nothing, while people are dying..."
"Harry, you need to rest. Everyone does, you're exhausted... you need a rest."
He looked at her angrily for a second. He shook his head and reached out for her before he stopped. And without a word, stalked away.
Silence stretched on.
She only gazed at the music in front of her. Trying to suppress the sobs threatening to come out.
Only this time she released them. It was no use. She let them run wildly as she turned towards the front. And saw him at the wooden doorway.
He was an illusion. Her mind was hallucinating. Yes, that made sense. She knew that she was in a right condition that she was toeing between the line of insanity.
But... had she crossed it?
She willed her legs to move from the piano bench. But no response came. The parchment fell from the ledge then, and skidded to the ground.
Between them.
"No, no. You... no." she suddenly uttered. Cold dread washed over her, as if somebody clogged her veins with a foreign liquid.
He walked over from the wooden doorway and crossed the shoddy looking green couch, like he had done once before...
"Hermione..."
She didn't trust herself to speak. He summoned the parchment to his hand with a flick of his wrist.
Carefully he sat at the edge of the bench, looking down at his hands. Not knowing what to say... how to say it.
She didn't know either.
Her hand reached out and cupped his. The flesh, it was too real to be a fantasy.
The tears unconsciously ran their course. He looked at her, frightened.
"Play it Hermione, play 'Goodbye'."
She shockingly took the parchment from his hand. And gazed at it. Better it than him right then. She tried to calm her pounding heart, tried to take it all in.
But it was impossible... too much, there was so much to explain.
She propped the music notes against the ledge. Her fingers hovering over the keys.
Hesitance.
She glanced up at the title marked across the top. Goodbye.
Her breath became even more ragged and her hands shook. With every ounce of her will, she made herself stare back at him.
She let the parchment drop to the ground as she shook her head.
"No."
A/N: Believe it or not, it wasn't suppose to end this way. But Hermione would not let me have it any other way. I am aware that it might be confusing if you are not me. I am a tad confused myself. The memories are in italics, so it might make it easier to distinguish the past from the present. By the way, you know the memory, the one he stalked away? Yeah, well that is the memory that makes him decide to leave. Anyway a quick note(4/23/04) Nitya fixed up a few typos I had so a big thank you to her. And another thanks to all you guys for reading.