Author's note: Oh, you guys don't know how I struggled with this one. Writer's block is not a pretty thing. I think they should invent something that cures it, but it took me forever to write this. I apologize for that! I know you guys don't like to wait. I promise not to delay in updating… I appreciate the reviews and hope that you will let me know what you really think of this…good, bad, or indifferent.
Chapter Five
Here Without You
A hundred days have made me older
since the last time that I saw your pretty face
a thousand lies have made me colder
and I don't think I can look at this the same
but all these miles that separate
disappear now when I'm dreaming of your face
I'm here without you baby
but you're still on my lonely mind
I think about you baby
and I dream about you all the time
I'm here without you baby
but you're still with me in my dreams
(Three Doors Down, "Here Without You")
Harry awoke to the sounds of persistent, annoying knocks on his front door. He cursed as he reached for his glasses and knocked over the lamp in the process. Grumpily, he pulled back the sheets and duvet cover and got to his feet and scrambled sleepily for the door. His golden retriever, Sam, started barking loudly and kept running from Harry to the door and back.
"Easy, Sam," Harry said groggily.
"Who is it?" he called out before opening the door.
"The happiest man in all of England," said a voice from the other side of the door.
Harry opened the door to a positively beaming Ron. Ron's smile faded as Sam pounced on him.
Harry pulled his dog back and tried not to laugh as he did so. Sam made no secret of not liking Ron and the feelings were mutual.
"That dog is possessed," Ron said looking on hesitantly at the dog as Harry struggled to get the dog off of his friend.
"He only acts like that with you," Harry said. It was true. Out of Ron's presence, the dog was one of the most loving and docile creatures. Harry joked to his friends that if someone tried to break into the house, Sam would look up from his perch on the sofa and then snuggle back into his dog bed while the perpetrator took off with all his valuables.
Once the dog was safely tucked away in the bedroom, Ron walked into the house and breezed past Harry into the kitchen.
"You're never going to believe what I've done!" Ron called out to him as he made his way for the kitchen where he walked over to the refrigerator and took out the carton of orange juice and poured himself a glass. Harry stared after his friend in utter disbelief.
"What?" Harry asked, taking a seat at the kitchen table and running his hand through his disheveled mop of hair.
"Well," Ron said, grinning at him. "You know how the team had that game in Wales? Well, last night Luna and I went out for a bite to eat afterwards and she sort of asked me to marry her! Can you believe it? She asked me! I mean, I was floored I have to tell you. Because she's always been the one insisting that she didn't believe in marriage. She kept saying that if you loved each other that was all that you needed. And that we didn't need titles such as husband and wife to define who we were to each other. So, imagine how surprised I was when she just springs the question on me. I told her that I was the one who was supposed to ask the question and she said that was just bollocks because since when were we the traditional couple? Well, I had to agree with her about that. Because if there's anything she and I aren't, it's traditional and normal."
Harry couldn't help marveling at his friend's animated description of the previous night's events. Ron had hardly taken a breath when he started talking again.
"So, she gets out of her chair, walks over to me and gets down on one knee! The whole restaurant was watching, Harry! And she asks me if I want to get married. And before I knew what I was saying, I said 'okay'. So, I guess this means that I---Ron Weasley---am getting married to Loony Lovegood."
Harry was laughing by the time Ron finished.
"Congratulations mate!" Harry said, getting up from his chair and hugging his best friend. "So she finally beat you into submission?"
Ron nodded happily.
"Have you told your mum yet?"
"Not yet," Ron said, shaking his head. "We're going over the Burrow later this evening. You'll probably hear Mum shrieking from here. You're more than welcome to tag along."
Harry shook his head. "No, thanks. I actually have plans tonight."
Ron raised his eyebrows at his friend. "Hot date?"
Harry shook his head as he picked up the carton of orange juice and poured himself a glass.
"So where are you going?"
"Final mission," Harry said. "I agreed to help Remus out one more time."
"I still can't believe you're giving all of it up," Ron said.
"Well, it's time," Harry said. "It just isn't what I thought it would be."
"But, you were so good at it," Ron said.
"Yeah, but it cost me everything, Ron."
"You know that isn't true," Ron retorted. "What happened would have happened even if you had been here."
"Maybe, maybe not," Harry said. "It doesn't matter now. It happened. There's nothing I can do to change it. You know that I've been thinking about quitting for months now. It just seems right."
"So this is it?" Ron asked, in amazement. "The Boy Who Lived---Hero Extraordinaire is giving up the Life Saving Game?"
"To get his life back, yes he is," Harry said. "Besides, there are still more than capable aurors out there. The world isn't going to end because I stop being one."
Ron nodded in understanding. "Well, what are you going to do when you grow up?"
Harry laughed. "Be just like you?"
"You're going to take up Quidditch again?" Ron asked.
Harry shook his head. "That ship has sailed, too."
"You're not going to tell me, are you?"
"When the time's right," Harry said. "I'll tell you."
"Fair enough," Ron said. "So have we heard from the former Mrs. Potter lately?"
Harry froze at the mention of Hermione.
"Sorry about that," Ron said sheepishly.
"It's okay," Harry said. "And besides she's still Mrs. Potter."
"Send the papers back again, did you?"
Harry nodded.
"You know that is going to piss her off, don't you?"
Again, Harry nodded.
"There is something I've been meaning to ask you, Harry. The two of you have been separated for two years. You've not spoken or seen each other since that time. For all intents and purposes, your marriage is over. So, why don't you sign the papers?'
Harry looked over at his friend. These were questions he had asked himself over and over again.
"Because," Harry said quietly. "If she is so hell-bent on ending what we have, she should get her arse back over here and hand me the damn papers herself."
"Haaa!" Ron exclaimed. "So, you're telling me that if she showed up here and handed you the papers, you'd sign them?"
Harry set his juice glass down. "Yes."
To Harry's shock, Ron began to laugh.
"What?"
"That's rich," Ron said, shaking with laughter. "That's good! Yeah, I'd believe that when I see Severus Snape actually smiling! Harry, wake up and smell the gillyweed! If Hermione came back here, you wouldn't sign those papers! And you know why, don't you? Because you still love her! And I'm willing to bet my life that she still loves you, too."
Harry felt anger rising up in him at his friend's word. He would never tell anyone that he suspected the same things as well.
"You're just too damn stubborn and so is she," Ron said. "I love you both. I do. But you're both being incredibly stupid. She's not coming back, Harry. I don't want to accept that anymore than you do, but she's not. Maybe it's time to move on."
"I have moved on," Harry said defensively.
"Try telling that to someone who hasn't known you for as long as I have," Ron said, heading for the door. "Maybe, they'll believe you. Because, I sure the hell don't."
****
Later that morning, Harry set off for a run around the village. He was stressed out and Ron's words had bothered him a lot more than he'd cared to admit. He knew his friend was right. He still loved Hermione. He'd tried not to think about her, but that had been futile. Trying not to think about her was like trying to tell him not to breathe.
Although she no longer lived in the cottage with him, Hermione's memory lingered in every room. It had been quite difficult to stay there after she'd left, but he had done it. His friends had suggested a move to start over, but he'd stubbornly told him that this was his home. He hadn't been the one to walk away. It had been Hermione. What he didn't tell his friends, though he figured they all suspected, was that he stayed in the cottage because of the memories. He felt close to her here even though she was gone and had been gone for nearly two years.
Logically, he knew that he should move on. She had done so. She had a new life that didn't include him.
Four times, she'd sent the divorce papers courtesy of the New York law offices of Smith, Stanley, & Stevens. Four times, he'd sent them back. He'd reasoned with himself that he wouldn't sign those papers until she hand delivered them herself. But was Ron right? Would he sign them if she showed up?
I shouldn't even think about that, because it's not going to happen. She's gone.
How had everything fallen apart for them in such a seemingly short period of time? Although he knew they were both equally to blame, it was in his nature to take the majority of the blame on himself.
With Hermione being a full-time student and he being an auror, they sometimes felt like two ships passing in the night, to put it in clichéd terms. But, they'd made the most of it and they made it work.
If there was one downside to his job as an auror aside from the danger, it was the time he had to spend away from home and from his wife. Most of the time, he had no idea how long he'd be away and Hermione would worry, as she always did. Sometimes, it would be hours, sometimes days, and sometimes weeks.
While Harry was away, Hermione would have her studies to keep her busy. At University, she'd concentrated on Charms & Arithmancy. She'd expressed to her husband on a number of occasions her dismay at not settling on a set career of choice. For the first time in her life, she'd told him, she had no idea what she wanted to do with her life. She'd said she was leaning toward either a career in teaching or opening up her own bookshop. Harry had told her that whatever she decided, he would offer his support and encouragement in any way he could.
To this day, he could still smile as he remembered those romantic reunions they would have when he return from the latest mission.
(Flashback)
Harry hadn't been home for nearly three weeks. He was bone-tired and weary and was looking forward to getting a quick kip before Hermione returned home from her afternoon classes. He was disappointed that she wouldn't be there to welcome him home straightaway, but at least this way he could rest up before she returned. She probably wouldn't find him too appealing in the state he was in. He'd worn the same clothes for nearly four days as he'd been involved in some raids that had called for overnight surveillance and extensive stakeouts. The part of the country they'd been bogged down in hadn't exactly been full of all the amenities, so to speak.
"She'd probably want a divorce on the spot if she saw me like this," he said, to himself, as he opened the door to the cottage and sighed as he surveyed his home. He dropped his coat on the coat rack and placed his suitcase by the door. He walked purposely toward the bathroom nearly tasting the shower that awaited him.
As he walked past the sofa in the sitting room, he saw to his surprise that Hermione was fast asleep. She'd obviously been reading as a couple of books were open on the coffee table and one was across her chest. She looked peaceful and warm curled up in an old Gryffindor blanket. As he walked over to her, he noticed that her skin was a little pale. He smiled as he kneeled down beside her and with his hand softly brushed a strand of her hair out of her face. His fingers lingered on the soft skin of her cheek and he couldn't resist kissing her forehead.
She stirred at his touch and her eyes flickered as she tried to focus. She smiled at her husband and lifted her hands up to her own eyes as she rubbed them sleepily.
"Hmmm," she said groggily. "Am I dreaming?"
"No," he said, chuckling. "I was about to ask myself the same question. I can't believe Hermione Granger Potter has skived off her classes to sleep in all day."
She smirked at him and sat up on the sofa. "Well, Hermione Granger Potter hasn't been feeling that well these past few days, so Hermione Granger Potter is taking it easy for once in her life."
"Why is Hermione Granger Potter talking about herself in the third person?" Harry asked, teasingly.
"Because her husband smells like something Crookshanks drug inside," Hermione said, wrinkling her nose in disgust.
"Well, let's see how good you smell when you've not had a decent bath in days," he said.
"Go take a shower, you filthy beast," Hermione said, pushing him away.
"Okay, okay," he said. "I don't even get a kiss?"
"You don't even get a hug," she said, pointing toward the bathroom. "Ughhhh, go Harry, now!"
He laughed and said, "Alright, alright."
Just as he was about to make his way around the corner, he turned and looked at Hermione. "You sure you're
alright? You look a little pale."
"I'm fine," she said. "We'll talk when you get out of the shower."
He smiled at her. "Love you."
"Love you, too."
He quickly showered and shaved and changed into a pair of jeans and a faded grey sweatshirt. His hair was still damp as he came back out into the sitting room and found Hermione, sitting up on the couch and reading. He grinned as he walked into the room and came behind her and pushed her hair back and planted a kiss on the back of her neck. She shuddered in pleasure as he did so and he leaned in and said, "Do I pass inspection? Can I get a proper hello now from my wife?"
She leaned in and took in his scent and ruffled his damp hair and said, "You'll do."
He smiled and came back around the sofa and sat down beside her and kissed her properly. After a few moments, he settled back down on the sofa beside her and absently went through the owl post.
"Okay," he said, putting down the envelopes. "What gives? Why did you really skive off your classes?"
Hermione closed her book and put in down on the coffee table. "Well, I told you that I wasn't feeling too well the past few days. I thought it was just some sort of stomach flu, but it hung around and hung around so I decided to go to St. Mungo's just to see what was going on."
"Is everything okay?" he asked her, concerned. "I mean, it's not something bad, is it?"
"No," she said, shaking her head. "I don't think it's bad at all."
"Well," he said, gently. "What is it?"
She giggled. "What color do you think we should paint the spare bedroom?"
"What?" he asked her bemusedly.
"What color do you think we should paint the spare bedroom?" she asked again. "We're going to have to make a lot of changes."
Harry stared at her in disbelief. "Hang on, Hermione. We were talking about your doctor's appointment and now you're on about painting the spare bedroom. Why won't you tell me what happened?"
"I've been doing some thinking," she continued as if she hadn't heard a word he'd said. "And I really think the crib could go against the left wall and we could put a rocking chair by the window. And we have to have a changing table!"
"Crib? Changing table? Rocking chair?" he asked her, confused.
Hermione laughed and nodded. She raised her eyebrows at him.
Her words slowly began to sink in and a smile played at his lips. "Are you?" he asked, cautiously. "I mean, are you…are we….baby?"
She laughed and said sweetly, "Yes."
"But how?" he asked quickly.
"How?" she repeated. "Well, Harry, if you don't remember how exactly, we've got bigger problems than turning the guest bedroom into a nursery."
"You know what I mean!" he said defensively.
"I'm a couple of months along," she said, patting her stomach. "My due date's in April."
Harry looked speechless. Hermione beamed at him.
"Say something," she said, taking his hands in hers. "You are happy, aren't you?"
He grinned at her and cupped her face in his hands and kissed her softly.
"Happy doesn't even begin to cover what I feel," he said, taking her in his arms and holding her.
Later that evening, they both sat on the porch swing, enjoying the cool, crisp air. Hermione's head was resting gingerly on Harry's shoulder and he had his left arm wrapped around her shoulders, keeping her close.
"Let's always live here," she said, breaking the silence.
"It's kind of a small house," he said, with a laugh. "What if we have more children?"
"We can build on to the cottage," Hermione said, reasonably. "This is the only place I could ever see us in. This is our home, Harry."
He was about to respond in kind when she lifted her head up from his shoulder and looked at him properly. "Hang on. Exactly how many children do you see us having?"
"I don't know," he said, scratching his chin. "Six or seven. Well, enough for our own Quidditch team."
Hermione stared at him as if he'd lost his mind. "Enough for own team? Need I remind you that it will be me who actually has the baby? Let's see how I do with the first one before you start making plans for total Potter domination, okay?"
He held his hands up in surrender.
"I was only kidding," he said.
Placated, she snuggled back into him.
"Well, do you think we'll have a boy or a girl?" he asked her.
"It doesn't matter as long as she or he is very happy and healthy."
"Well," Harry said, his eyes twinkling. "As long as they have your brains and good looks and my flying ability, how could they go wrong?"
"No child of mine is getting on a broom," she said firmly.
Harry took his hand to Hermione's tummy and leaned down to talk directly at her stomach. "She didn't mean it. Don't listen to your mum."
Hermione playfully swatted his arm.
A serious expression came over his face as he caressed her cheek with his hand and then pulled her closer as they kissed passionately. He was about to deepen the kiss when Hermione pushed him away with her hand and got to her feet.
"Let's go inside," she whispered, taking his hand and leading him back inside the cottage. She turned to face him and said with her eyes aglow, "Welcome home, Harry."
***
As he finished his run, he felt tears come to his eyes as he remembered how happy and hopeful they'd been that day. They had no idea that it wouldn't last.
As he opened the door, Sam welcomed him back and Harry sat down on the sofa and wondered what his wife was doing at this very minute.
Stop thinking about her! It's time to move on!
He looked over at Sam, who was staring back at him.
"Tell me how to do that, Sam," he said, feeling foolish for talking to his dog like this. "Tell me how the hell am I supposed to do that?"
****
Back in New York, Hermione waited at the terminal for her flight to be called. She couldn't believe she was going to go home to London.
There was no other way around it. She had to get the divorce from Harry.
I'll be there a day, tops. I'll make him sign these bloody papers and it's going to be over and I can come back here and marry Andrew.
She opened up the envelope in her purse and took out the divorce papers and looked down at them. It seemed so strange to be holding these papers. It made it all seem real. She'd never really looked at them before in her attorney's office. She'd just signed them and told the attorney she wanted this to be over as quickly as possible. All that was missing now was the signature of her husband.
My stubborn as a mule husband.
Andrew had insisted on driving her to the airport. She'd told him she was going back home to London to share the news with her parents. She certainly hadn't told him she was going home to obtain a divorce from her first husband that he had no idea existed.
He'd wanted to come along with her, but to her relief, he'd been assigned a huge case that was going to prevent him from being able to.
She promised to send his love to her parents…who also had no idea that Andrew existed. She hadn't spoken to her parents in two years, either. Their relationship had been strained since the day she'd told them she was marrying Harry. It had improved somewhat when they'd announced her pregnancy, but it had all fallen apart in the wake of the miscarriage.
Hermione was happy to hear the sound of her flight being called. She didn't want to think about the painful past now. In a few hours, she'd be colliding with that painful past head on. There was no sense dwelling on it during the long plane ride.
She got up from her seat and walked toward the gate, steeling herself for whatever happened in London.
Please let this work with as little hassle as possible.
I'm fooling myself, aren't I?
The airline attendant handed her back her boarding pass.
"Enjoy your flight to London, miss."
Oh boy!