Author's Note: Just a brief note before pressing on. In regard to those reviewers who dislike this rather dispassionate Hermione, I have two words: I agree.
Why did I write her this way, then? First, because I wanted a change from the ubiquitous Hermione-adores-Harry standard which I admittedly embrace wholeheartedly, but which can grow stale if overused. Thus do I prove, if only to myself, that I can break from the pattern and go off on a tangent. But I promise not to make a habit of it.
Second, and more important, this is a story about change and personal growth. Thus far we have seen only the Hermione whom Harry left behind more than a year ago. It remains to be seen whom he will find when he returns more than a year later. As to that, only two chapters remain, so the wait won't be a long one.
I never imagined a simple, short fic like this could elicit responses of such profound depth. I feel honored. And now, let's see how Harry is faring this week, shall we?
With hands shaking from more than his mysterious affliction, Harry folded the map and returned it to his pouch. Fighting the panic clouding his thoughts, he closed his eyes, drawing on the Master's teachings to find the right path.
The Master often said that the physical body was nothing compared to the Chi, the inner being. If there was ever a time to put that assertion to the test, it was now.
Inadvisable though it was to Apparate in his weakened state, Harry had no choice. If he did not return to Hermione by September first --
No. He would return!
He knew he was far too weak to Apparate all the way to England in one jump. Short hops was the way to go. Harry did some mental plotting, retracing his steps over the past year. Nepal first, he decided. Then India, Turkey, Germany, France, England. A suitable rest period between jumps -- say, an hour -- should enable him to make the journey by morning. Also, he was racing ahead of the sun. Every jump would gain him at least an hour on the clock.
He could do it. He was certain.
Harry negated the Hovering Charm on his broomstick and grasped it in his left hand. For more than a minute he took slow, cleansing breaths. He pushed the weakness aside, refusing to surrender to it. He withdrew into himself, centered his Chi. He cast his spirit outward, trusting his body to follow --
When he awoke from the oblivion that had enveloped him with the suddenness of a candle being blown out, he found himself lying on his back, his feet still lying in the depths of the giant footprint. A sharp stone was jabbing into his ribs, but the tears flooding his eyes were unrelated to any physical pain. The stars looking down into the clearing seemed to be mocking him like a million soulless eyes.
"Hermione," Harry whimpered, bracing himself on his left elbow as he made to rise. As he lifted his head, a wave of dizziness assailed him and he sank back down, his tears now flowing freely.
He couldn't Apparate! Splinching? Harry laughed bitterly. He hadn't the strength to splinch a fingernail! This lone aborted effort had stolen his remainng strength, leaving him limp as a flobberworm, too weak even to sit up. He couldn't --
No! He would! By Merlin, he would!
Bracing himself against nausea, Harry thrust himself upwards. He lurched sideways, catching himself on his left elbow. He pushed himself up determinedly. The dizziness passed, and he found himself sitting -- actually, leaning drunkenly on his left arm -- only inches from his Firebolt.
Yes! His broomstick! He no longer had a choice in the matter. If he couldn't Apparate, he would fly back to Hermione! It would be a close thing, separated from his destination as he was by an entire hemisphere. But the Firebolt had no equal in the world when it came to speed. If any broom could do it...
Harry used his broomstick like a crutch, pulling himself to his feet with a superhuman effort.
Fly, he thought through the murky waves pounding on the shore of his mind. Fly...home...Hermione...fly...
Harry straddled his broomstick, set his teeth and kicked off shakily. He had not risen ten feet when a pulse of nauseating dizziness nearly unseated him. Acting on instinct, he nosed his broom down just as unconsciousness overtook him.
Harry awoke face-down, his Firebolt under him, the handle poking his ribs.
"No," he mumbled into the dry, touseled sward. "No. Hermione..."
Harry rolled over, and it seemed that the sky was moving, the panoply of stars rotating as their counterparts had done on his map. His own thoughts seemed to be spinning as rapidly as he clung tenaciously to his resolve not to give up, to refuse even to consider surrender.
One step at a time, Potter, he thought, closing his eyes to shut out the dizzily whirling stars. One step at a time.
First, an Adhesion Charm to make him one with his broomstick, assuring that he would not fall off. Yes, that would work --
But a broomstick needed a conscious will to guide it. Harry could scarcely summon the will to lift his head, much less fly a broomstick over mountains, forests and deserts.
Think, Potter! Think!
Harry was now sweating profusely through his chills, of which he'd taken scant note ere now. He pulled at his shirt, his hand feeling the cold dampness on his neck and chest.
And he felt something else. His hand seemed to encounter an object where none appeared to be. His fingers, having torn open his shirt to his navel, closed on the object, enfolded it. It was real. But what --
Harry stopped breathing. His eyes stared into nothingness, his thoughts turning inward with the returning memory.
Slowy, softly, Harry began to laugh.
Harry stood on the platform at Hogsmeade Station. The first whistle had sounded, announcing the departure of the Hogwarts Express in five minutes.
"Please, Hermione," Harry was saying for what seemed the hundredth time. "If I send Hedwig right now, she'll arrive at your house long before your mum and dad leave for King's Cross. We can spend the day in Hogsmeade, and tonight you just Apparate into your living room! Easy as pie!"
"Harry -- " Hermione started to protest, but Harry just waved his hand and changed direction with a swiftness that would have shamed his own personal best on the Quidditch pitch.
"Okay, right, your parents wouldn't like you just popping in like that, Muggle home and all that. So, how about this? We do Hogsmeade, same as before, only you Apparate onto Platform 9 3/4 and go straight through the barrier with none the wiser. Your parents will -- "
"Harry!"
Harry clamped his mouth shut. Hermione was smiling broadly, shaking her head as Harry's face reddened.
"I told you," Hermione said firmly, though in a voice musical and devoid of wrath, "I want to ride on the train. I may not see my friends for a very long time after today. I've neglected them for ever so long these last three years. I want us to have this last train ride together before we go our separate ways."
"What about me?" Harry said wistfully, tracing a finger along her cheek. "I won't be seeing you for fourteen months."
"But that's your choice, isn't it?" Hermione countered. There was no spite in her voice, nor in her eyes, but Harry felt a sting in his heart all the same. His hand left her cheek and he began to twirl a lock of her chestnut hair around first one finger and then another.
Of a sudden, a light came into Harry's eyes. Silencing Hermione with an upraised finger, Harry drew his wand and moved it in a delicate circle below her face. As she watched in mute wonder, a lock of her hair began to move of its own accord, in a fashion like a charmed snake writhing to silent notes from an unseen pipe. It curved back on itself, twirled once and tied itself into a knot. A touch of Harry's wand neatly severed the lock, which fell into Harry's cupped hand.
Switching his wand to his other hand, Harry reached into a pocket of his robes and extracted a small poke with a short drawstring attached. His wand held between thumb and forefinger, Harry tilted his hand until the lock of hair fell into the open poke. He pulled the string tight before switching his wand back to his right hand. He then touched his wand to the drawstring, which lengthened rapidly before Hermione's nocent eyes.
Harry looped the drawstring around his neck and let the poke hang outside his robes. Finally he waved his wand in a brief, elaborate dance, and Hermione gave an involuntary gasp as poke and drawstring vanished completely.
"Professor Flitwick taught me some very complex Invisibility Charms as part of Auror training," Harry explained with a smile even as he tucked the now-invisible poke into his robes. "A Death Eater can't steal your wand if he can't see it. I can only do small objects. I'd need years of practice to make myself invisible, so I don't think I'll be discarding my Invisibility Cloak anytime soon.
"The Charm I used is the most intricate of the lot. This poke is now bonded to my personal aura. It can never be lost, can never be taken from me. It's intangible to any hand but mine. It's part of me now -- just as you are.
"Wherever I go," Harry said throatily, his eyes embracing Hermione's, "you'll be with me. Next to my heart."
The train whistle sounded. Harry cupped Hermione's face and pressed a lingering kiss on her lips. She returned the kiss with quiet depth, with pure and undiluted love.
But no fire.
"Goodbye, Harry. I hope you find what you're looking for."
Time suddenly distorted for Harry. One moment he was watching Hermione board the train, was waving at her as she leaned from the window of her compartment and returned the gesture. Then, in a seeming eyeblink, he was alone on the platform, the tracks empty as his eyes followed them to where they vanished on the Southern horizon, a pinpoint lost in the morning haze.
"I'll be back, Hermione," Harry said into the quiet emptiness of the fresh, clear June morning. "I promise."
And in the stillness of the Scottish morn, Harry heard a sweet, gentle voice whisper in his ear: "I'll wait for you, Harry. I'll wait for you.
"But not forever."
Author's Note: The clues are all in. How will Harry return to England in time to prevent Hermione from doing the unthinkable? Correct guesses win a necklace of genuine flobberworm teeth. Put on your wizard thinking caps and tune in next week for the answer. Thanks!