By Searching

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

Chapter ONE - he loves you

Dear Miss Granger,

We would like to say that we've enjoyed reading your short work of fiction, The Maiden's Bequest. However, we are sorry that we will not be able to publish your work. Thank you for taking interest in our publishing.

Sincerely,

Sandra Parish

Ladies' Home Journal

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

It was a breezy afternoon, and though not yet autumn, Hermione Granger could feel the beginnings of the autumn wind piercing through her cardigan. Soon, summer would be over, and she would be back at Hogwarts, teaching her second year as the Transfigurations professor. Her best friend, Harry Potter came over earlier for lunch, and now they were strolling down the lane in the forest by her home.

When they reached the bridge that overshadowed the creek, Hermione touched his arm. He looked at her and understood. The two of them leaned against the bridge and gazed out into the horizon. For a few minutes, they remained there, until Hermione spoke.

“My story was rejected. Again.”

“Their loss,” he replied simply. “You're an excellent writer.”

“You're my best friend. You have to say that.”

“And I'm supposed to tell only the truth right? As your best friend, of course.”

“Really, Harry. Tell me. I've sent The Maiden's Bequest out to wizard AND Muggle magazines. No one wants to publish my story. There must be something horrendously wrong with my story! And you're really the only one who knows about it, so please! Tell me! Honestly.”

“Are you sure?” She bobbed her head quickly.

Harry sighed. “All right. Just remember, this is really just my opinion, so don't get too worked up over it, okay?” She nodded again. “You don't have to make Alexander DuPont talk in thee's and thou's. It's so archaic, and no one talks like that anymore. Don't you think that the tall, dark and handsome mysterious stranger rescuing a damsel in distress story line has been slightly overdone?”

After taking in every word that he had said, she had felt herself grow livid in anger. “Archaic? Overdone? Alexander DuPont is indeed the dashing handsome gentleman, and any woman would give up everything just to be in Adele's shoes! And what would you know? I couldn't ever get you to read anything other than Quidditch Through the Centuries while we were at Hogwarts!”

Harry had shrugged. “You got me there. But, `Mione, I just think that you should write something that touches closer to home. You could always write about Hogwarts. Those were some of the most brilliant years ever, weren't they?”

“Yes, they were, Harry. But it's just not, well, right. Hardly anything romantic about Hogwarts at all. You're not expecting me to make a romance novel out of being nearly ripped apart by a three-headed dog, would you?”

“Well, true. But the Great Hall was magnificent, wasn't it? I was so awed by the floating candles and the indoor night sky.”

“But it's just the dining hall. Anyone with imagination would want to charm the brick ceiling of a hall just so that it looked magnificent.”

“How about the Astronomy Tower? You know how it was, hearing Ron's stories. Couples were always trying to beat others for loft. That sounds pretty romantic.”

“Shagging each other in an empty classroom?” She rolled her eyes irritably. “I don't think so. Romance isn't all about shagging, you know. Oh, just forget it, Harry. Writing was really a silly hobby anyway. Not much of a loss there, isn't there? And besides, fall term is coming soon, and I'm sure I'll be by far too busy grading Transfigurations papers and keeping students from causing mischief to be writing.”

Harry pulled her into his arms and gave her a friendly peck on the forehead. “Now, `Mione, I wouldn't give it up totally. You really are a wonderful writer. Just need to focus on some of the more realistic things instead of mumbo-jumbo and silly romantic notions.”

Suddenly, Hermione pushed him away, her eyes flashing with anger. “Mumbo-jumbo? Silly romantic notions? Is that what my writing is? Harry Potter, I cannot believe that I came to you! You're just as daft as Ron! And I wish I had never trusted you with my writing!”

And after slamming him a hard whack in the face, she ran back down the bridge and across the lane, and when she reached her house, she slammed the door behind her and ran all the way up the stairs to her room, only to throw herself onto the bed and dissolve in tears.

Jane Granger had poked her head from the kitchen when she heard the door slam shut. She sighed as she pulled the baking pan from the oven and turned off the switch. She pushed the curtain to the window in the living room and saw Harry's stooped shoulders as he walked back to the forest, probably to Disapparate. Pulling her apron off, she quickly climbed the stairs to her daughter's room.

“Hermione,” she cooed as she gently pulled her daughter into her arms.

“I know, Mum. I just can't seem to stop taking criticism to heart. And of all the people, I just can't take Harry's criticism any easier. I trusted him and he had said that he liked it, but how could he say that it was, unrealistic? Does he think all of my writing is horrible?”

Jane rocked Hermione slowly. “Sweetheart, you know that isn't true.”

“I know,” she said between sobs. “It's just that it's Harry. I wanted to hear real encouragement. And he was trying to help. I did ask him to tell me the truth.”

“Harry would never do anything to hurt you purposely, Hermione. You're much too precious to him to do that.”

Hermione wiped her tears with the handkerchief her Mum had handed to her. “Precious? I'm just his best friend, Mum, bookwormish simple Hermione.”

Jane laughed softly. “Oh, my dear sweet girl. You really have no clue do you? That boy holds you so close to heart. Look at you! You've grown so much since you first left for Hogwarts! He sees as I see you, beautiful, intelligent, passionate, kind, and loving. He treats you as if you're Austrian crystal, beautiful but delicate. You make Ginny Weasley, Cho Chang, Parvati Patil and Lavender look like unpolished silver. He loves you.”

Hermione was surprised. Harry, in love with me? But how could that be? “But, Mum, we've been best friends forever. I mean, I love him too. But not in that way.” She was still dazed.

“Surely, darling, that you've seen how he acts around you.”

“But, we were best friends since first year at Hogwarts! Harry and Ron never really treated like a girl.”

Jane chuckled. “You don't truly believe that, do you?”

Hermione shook her head. “No. It's just not feasible, Mum. Harry had a huge crush on Cho Chang back in fifth year. And Lavender Brown, Parvati Patil, they were all chasing after him. He really deserves to be with a beautiful woman who would love him and remain loyal to him all her life. And he's not exactly the tall, dark, mysterious handsome stranger that I've always imagined myself with.”

“Hermione, one of these days you'll clear your mind of notions you call romance and actually see the world around you in a different light. And I'll reserve my rights to say `I told you so' when that day comes.” She smiled fondly at her daughter. “Come, let's go downstairs. I've made treacle tart earlier. Have some while it's fresh from the oven.”

“Sounds wonderful, Mum.”

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

Harry buried his head in his hands, sitting on the edge of his bed. He had run after her after she had hit him square on the cheek, and after watching her storm into her own house, he turned back and headed for a clearing in the forest, where he apparated back to the Burrow. Molly Weasley had seen the swollen bruise and offered to heal it for him, but he had gently declined and vouched for a pack of ice that he held against his cheek.

Why did he have to insult her like that? He wanted to help her, not to get her mad. But every time she asked for his opinion on her writing, he seemed to always trigger the right switch in her, and that was for her to rave at him for the next few days. It didn't help that he had been in love with her since he had met her on the train to Hogwarts. Though he didn't know it at first, after a few years of growing up, he finally saw her as the woman he loved, when she stood at his side, fearless and brave, loyal to the end, as he faced Voldemort in the last battle. His heart broke when Voldemort threw a Crutiatus Curse at Hermione, causing her to crumble by his side. The love he had for his best friend suddenly overwhelmed his entire being, and using that love, he was able to vanquish Voldemort from the Wizarding Community forever.

He loved her, so much that his heart breaks every time he thought of her. Most of the time when they were together, he wanted to feel her existence, hold her in his arms, and whisper his love to her in her ear. Instead, he drank in her presence every time she talked, smiled, laughed, and even when she cried. During those years at Hogwarts, he had learned to appreciate the beauty in her when she sat in front of the fireplace in the Common Room of Gryffindor Tower. Even while she read her books, she still had the time to scribble on pieces of parchments, vividly imagining a whole new world.

And for the past two years, he had tried to make his feelings known to her. Hermione took up teaching Transfiguration at Hogwarts, after Professor McGonagall decided to head up a school in Canada. Harry decided that he would take up Auror training, until he found something that suited him better. On weekends, he would travel up to Hogsmeade and have dinner with Hermione at the Three Broomsticks while she chaperoned students on their weekend trips. Other days, he would write novel-length letters to her, sometimes including small gifts that he knew she would appreciate. Special days such as Valentines' Day, he would personally deliver her favorite chocolates and single stemmed rose. As much as he tried to show her how much he really cared, she never seemed to understand, even with her intelligence quotient.

During their dinner dates at Hogsmeade, Hermione would bring her latest work of fiction with her. She would sit anxiously in front of him while watching him read her story. When he put the parchment down, she would hold her breath until he broke out into a grin and told her that he thought the story was great.

However, as great of a writer Hermione was, he always felt that she should write from her heart. The seven years at Hogwarts they spent together was to him more valuable and endearing than a great romantic epic telling the story of a peasant lady who captured the heart of a lonely duke. He understood how Hermione's imagination could lead her up into the skies, but all he ever wanted was to pull her back down to earth and have her planted by his side, so he could nurture and bask her in his love.

His other best friend, Ron Weasley, had told him many a times just to tell her how he truly felt. Ron and Hermione was a well-known bantering couple back in Hogwarts. And though nothing romantic ever came between them, Harry sometimes wondered if Hermione secretly was in love with Ron, who at that time had already met and fallen in love with Lauren Flockhart, who was two years younger than they were. Ron, however, had assured him that they acted just like a brother and sister would, fighting and arguing over the least sensible things, unlike Hermione's relationship with Harry, which was always laminar and smooth. Ron also had admitted that he was once jealous of the trusting and secure relationship that Harry and Hermione had.

There were only two weeks left of summer vacation. Soon, Hermione would be going back to Hogwarts, and he would be leaving on his new job training. And the day before, Ron and Lauren would be getting married at the Burrow. As Ron's best man, he would be busy running pre-marital errands, throwing Ron's bachelor party, and placating his best friend as he prepare to commit his life into marital bondage. Two weeks left to tell Hermione how he truly cared for her.

*********

Hermione sat by the kitchen table while forking treacle pie and watching her mother prepare the evening meal. She toyed with her fork quietly, appreciating her mother's gentle beauty that radiated from her movements across the room. Her mind drifted off to the days when she was a child. She and her mother had spent many summers in the kitchen, baking chocolate chipped cookies and eating left-over cookie dough. Her mother had a nice collection of cookie cutters, and after they spread the batter out over wax paper, Hermione would begin pressing the cutter onto the batter, foraging shapes hearts, stars, and various animals. Her mother would remove the rest of the batter, smooth them out and she would start over again. After the cookies were done, Mum would take out all the icings and candies, and she would spend the rest of the afternoon decorating the cookies.

“Honey, what are you thinking about?” her mum's voice broke through her train of thought.

Hermione glanced up and saw Jane's amused look. “Oh, nothing, Mum. Just thinking about my childhood, that's all.”

Jane laughed gently. “You're thinking about the cookie cutters aren't you?”

“How did you know, Mum?”

“Oh, anyone would know, after watching you drool while staring off into space.”

Hermione laughed quietly, but her expression fell quickly. “Mum, I've been thinking. Remember Professor McGonagall's letter that came in last week?”

“Hmm, she offered you a position in her school up in Prince Edward Island, didn't she?”

Hermione nodded. “I think it might be a good idea to go. I've already written her my answer. And Professor Dumbledore, of course.”

Jane washed her hands in the sink and dried them off with a towel that hung on the refrigerator door. She pulled a chair out beside Hermione at the table and sat down. “Honey, you're sure? Prince Edward Island is quite a ways away from England.”

“Mum, I want to go. Even for just a year. I love Hogwarts very much, but it's time that I did something new for myself. I can't be a Hogwarts professor all my life.”

Jane patted her daughter's hand gently as she smiled fondly at her. “I know. I'm really proud of you. It must have been difficult for you to decide. You do whatever you want, Hermione. And your Dad and I will be behind you no matter what.”

Hermione smiled back at her. “Thanks, Mum. You've always been so understanding. And this treacle tart is delicious!”

Jane chuckled. “Why, thank you! Molly Weasley sent me the recipe a few months ago. Your dad had gained two inches around his waist because of it.” She stood up and began to clear away the plate in front of Hermione.

Hermione stood up and turned to head back to her room again. She paused when her mother called her back.

“Hermione, did you tell Harry about your new job?”

Hermione froze, her eyes hazy with thought, and shook her head. Turning, she left her mother alone in the kitchen, deep in thought.

Author's Note: The idea for this story came while studying for a midterm last night. I decided to pen it down before I forget, and this is what came out of it. I don't really know if I should classify this as an alternate universe, but it is definitely a post-Hogwarts story, with a few minor changes to characterization.

Part of my inspiration for this story was from the Anne of Green Gables videos. So, even though Hermione is still the brainiac extraordinaire, she will also have the Anne Shirley elements of being imaginative, “wild”, bold, and outspoken. And though most of the story will be in Hermione's point of view, I will also include Harry's POV somewhere somehow. :P

For those who have been kind to read my other story Touch, it is still in the works and I will continue working on it. Now that I've finished my examinations for the moment, I'll have more time to think about it before finals begin.

Thank you all for reading. Please, take the time to review. Any thoughts would be greatly appreciated.

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

Chapter TWO- a wedding and a confession

Harry checked his reflection in the mirror once again. He straightened his tie, and gently dusted his coat. His hair was still uncontrollable, but a little dash of Muggle hair gel helped calm it down, just a little bit. He sighed in despair, wondering if his wild untamed hair would ever be domesticated. His appearance was at least presentable. But Harry could still see something wrong with his reflection. Even behind his silver-rimmed glasses, the sadness was still visible in his emerald eyes.

It's Ron's wedding, he reprimanded himself. Don't ruin it for him. At least wait until the reception is over. She'll be there.

His hand went into his jacket pocket, where he found a small black box. He opened it and stared at the simply-cut diamond ring he had picked out at Tiffany. Sighing, he closed the box, replaced it in his pocket, and made his way to the groom's room.

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

Hermione finished applying the last touches of makeup. She heard her door open, and turned when she saw her mother's reflection in the mirror. Fingering through her jewelry chest, she found a string of pink pearls and held it out for her mother to help clasp it on her.

Jane smiled softly at her daughter, as she took in the site Hermione made in her dress, a lavender thin-strapped gown that flowed loosely to her ankles, just slightly clinging to her slim figure. Hermione's normally bushy hair was twisted into a knot, leaving only few strands of curls whisping gently around her slender neck. She took the pearls from Hermione's hands and gently clasped it around her daughter's neck. It was interesting that her daughter picked out a necklace that Harry had given her on her nineteenth birthday. Jane and her husband Robert had picked out pink pearl earrings, and when Hermione came back from her birthday dinner date with Harry with this string of pearls, Jane had been surprised. She had her doubts about Harry's feelings for her daughter, but after looking at the pearls, she no longer doubted that her daughter's best friend had been in love with her since she knew of him.

“You look lovely, darling.” Jane vouched on saying nothing about the pearls.

Hermione blushed. “Thank you, Mum. I do look all right, don't I?”

“Of course you do. Everyone would be so taken with you, especially Harry.”

Hermione frowned. “Oh, Mum, I do wish you'd stop talking about Harry like that. I'm fairly sure that we're only just friends.”

Jane shrugged her shoulders slightly. “If that's what you want. But just promise me, that you'll talk to Harry before you come home tonight.”

Hermione nodded. “I will.” After glancing at the wall clock, she went to her bed and grabbed the present that was lying there. “I should get going. The wedding will start in a few minutes.” She kissed her mother's cheek and carefully treaded down the stairs. Taking a small pouch off the mantel in the fireplace, she spoke clearly, “the Burrow.” Jane watched as the green flames engulfed Hermione, and she was gone.

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

Harry found Ron in his room, pacing about, with a green look on his face. He had seen the same nauseating look on Ron's other brothers' faces, when each of them had gone through their own weddings. He was sure that as soon as Ron saw Lauren walk down the aisle, all uncomfortable squirmishes would disappear. He placed an arm around his best friend's shoulders, hoping that would help him relax.

“Harry, mate, I don't think I can do this.”

Harry patted Ron's shoulder. “You'll be fine, Ron. You and Lauren had been waiting for this day for the past two years. Now that it's here, you just have to go and make her your wife.”

“But, what if I find out that I don't love her enough? What if I snore in my sleep, and what if SHE snores?”

Harry laughed. “Ron, you do snore in your sleep, and no, you wouldn't have to worry about Lauren snoring with all the noise you make.”

“What if I fall in love with someone else?”

“Then make sure you buy a comfortable couch for your new flat.”

“What if she falls in love with someone else?”

“You're a wizard; you should know what to do.”

“What if……”

Harry held out a hand in front of his best friend. “Stop, Ron. You're only making yourself more nervous. You love her, and she loves you. Almost five years of being in love with each other, and you're doubting the relationship you have? Well, granted, it's you who's facing the altar. But if you don't do this by yourself, your bride's going to charge in here and drag you down the aisle herself.

Lauren's a wonderful woman, and Ron, you're a good man too. You're perfect for each other, and don't ever doubt what you two have. You'll never find it anywhere else.” Just like how I feel about…

Ron slowly took a deep breath and grinned nervously. “Yeah, you're right. I can't just leave her there, can't I? Well then, mate, if you have the rings, I suppose we should get the bandwagon going.”

Harry laughed again. “Let's go, Ron. To make you officially Lauren's.”

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

Hermione dusted the soot off the skirt of her gown. After a few unsuccessful pats, she lifted the hem of her dress and pulled her wand out of its holster that was tied around her thigh and scourgified her dress. The living room to the Burrow was a mess, as red-head after red-head were running about for last minute errands before the big wedding.

Molly Weasley found Hermione standing in front of the fireplace. Her flushed face showed the excitement and nervousness of witnessing her last son's wedding to the woman he loved. She pulled Hermione out to the garden. “Oh, Hermione darling, the wedding's starting soon. Come, sit next to Bill and Colette.” They found an empty seat next to the oldest Weasley son and his wife. Bill nodded at her and she smiled back, after exchanging greetings with Colette.

Hermione gazed about her surroundings. The middle of Molly's spring garden was now decked with two columns of chairs, leaving only an aisle big enough for the wedding entourage to pass through. At the end of the aisle, a white podium stood, and on the side were bouquets of Molly's flowers. Behind the podium was a small menagerie, with vines draping the poles. The setting was beautiful, and Hermione was glad that Ron and Lauren had decided to go with a traditional Muggle wedding ceremony.

She smiled gently as Ron waved at her from where he stood in front of the podium. She was very proud of Ron. He stood so proudly, and she prayed in her heart that he and Lauren would live happily ever after. He turned to whisper in Harry's ear, who at that time had his back toward her. When he turned around, she flushed at his gaze. He looked very handsome in his suit, and she found herself locked in with his bright green eyes.

The minister took his place in front of the podium, and the string quartet began playing Pachelbel's Canon in D. Hermione closed her eyes as she took in the music, but she opened them quickly as she heard rustling of people turning their bodies to watch as the flower girl and bridesmaid slowly marched their way to the front. After Ginny, the maid-of-honor, took her spot in the front, the music changed to the wedding march, and the entire audience stood. Lauren stood at the end of the aisle on her father's arm, looking very elegant and beautiful, so much that she took Hermione's breath away. And Ron's as well.

As soon as Lauren reached the podium, her father kissed her cheek, and she smiled shyly at Ron, who took her hand and held it tightly as they stood in front of the minister. They both recited their vows to each other, and as they slipped their wedding bands onto each other's fingers, Hermione felt her heart constrict with pride. From the corner of her vision field, she could see Harry still gazing intently at her. She turned her head to escape his gaze, though she was already blushing.

And then the minister pronounced, “May I present to you, Mr. and Mrs. Ronald Weasley.”

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

The wedding reception was held in the same garden. All the staging props from the wedding were cleared off with magic, and now there were tables covered with white linen around the garden, with a long table of delicacies that the hired caterers had prepared. At the end of said table was a beautifully towered wedding cake. The bride and groom sat next to each other as friends and family came over to them to congratulate them. Harry stood next to Ron dutifully, but no one could erase the proud look he had on his face as he watched his friend and his bride. His eyes, however, still stole fleeting glances to one woman, whom, after wishing the happy couple congratulations, had disappeared from the wedding grounds.

When the music changed moods once again, Ron helped Lauren to the middle of the dance floor. He held one of her hands and placed the other on his arm. His arms rested lightly on her waist. They moved slowly to the music, her dress swaying between them as they danced.

The rest of the wedding party watched the couple dance. Harry began to imagine the day that he and Hermione would be dancing just as Ron and Lauren were, and he felt himself blushing, in spite of himself. He recalled gazing at her during the wedding ceremony. She was so elegant, in her lavender dress and hair done up, sitting next to Bill and Colette. When Ron and Lauren exchanged vows, he swore he saw tears streaming down her cheeks, and she had gently wiped them off with a small lace hanky. After the ceremony, she came up to Ron and Lauren and gave both of them hugs. This had been the perfect time for him to embed Hermione at Ron's wedding in the bottom of his memory, along with the many images that he had stored in the past.

Ron and Lauren moved closer to where he stood watching. As Ron maneuvered Lauren expertly across the dance floor, Harry caught the look on Ron's face. He knows what I was planning, Harry cringed inwardly. I didn't want him to have to worry about me on his wedding day. A wink from Ron told Harry everything. Ron was prodding him to search for Hermione, using his eyes to point to the direction in which she had headed. Harry gave Ron a lopsided grin, and quietly retreated from the reception toward the forest clearing.

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

Hermione couldn't stand it anymore. Harry's piercing gaze was following her everywhere, while she was sitting enjoying the light refreshments, while talking with their mutual friends from school, and even while Dean Thomas had asked her for a dance. She kindly refused him, and watched relief sweep over Harry's face. Slightly irritated, she decided to take a walk by the forest clearing.

She found the happy couple sitting underneath a maple tree, talking with some of their guests. Ron grinned when he saw her and she gave him a quick kiss on the cheek.

“Hermione! I'd say you look ravishing, but my jealous wife is next to me.” Ron winked as he returned her hug.

Lauren laughed as she pinched her husband's arm. “That's right. You should know better, Ron Weasley.” She gave Hermione a hug as well. “But you do look wonderful, Hermione. That is a beautiful dress!”

Hermione smiled. “Thanks. Mum found it in London. I think it might be Donna Karan.” She gazed at them fondly. “The wedding was really beautiful. I'm so happy for the two of you.” Her gaze moved to Harry, whose eyes were intently locked on her face. “Harry, you look great yourself too.”

She was surprised when Harry did not speak, but nodded his head in reply. “Well, I'll leave you to your own reception. It's a lovely day, isn't it? I think I'll go take a walk.” She gave a hug again. “Congratulations, Lauren, you're perfect for him, and take care of Ron, okay?”

Hermione watched Lauren's eyes glisten with tears. Lauren blinked them away and said, “Just be sure that you're back in time for the bouquet throwing.” She dropped her voice to a whisper. “And make sure you catch it.”

With a glance at Harry, she turned and headed back into the house. She didn't want him to know where to find her that soon. After entering the side door to the house, she weaved her way through the living room and exited via the kitchen door. From there she slowed her pace down and strolled to the forest clearing.

The summers that she had spent in the Burrow were some of her favorites. The boys and Ginny would be playing Quidditch in the backyard, and she would disappear to the forest for a few hours, until Molly called them in for dinner. Most of time, she brought her writing folder with her. Many of her ideas had been generated while sitting against her favorite tree stump, gazing at the pond in front of her, and imagining that she was a lovely countess, who was locked away in her father's castle, waiting for the perfect man to save her from the bondage of aristocracy and old traditions.

On her way to the forest, she ran into Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil. They were, as usual, gossiping, not noticing that she could hear their conversation. Hermione wrinkled her nose irritably and ignored them, until she saw Neville Longbottom and his fiancée Luna Lovegood approaching her.

“Neville! Luna!” she exclaimed as she gave them both a hug.

“Hermione, you look great!” Neville returned her hug. Hermione smiled inwardly. Neville had grown so much over the years, and now that he was studying Herbology in the wizarding university, his confidence grew with his knowledge, especially so when he fell in love with Luna, who was also at the university taking journalistic writing courses.

“Well, now that Ron's married, when are you two going to set the date?”

Luna grinned. “We're going to wait for a few more years. Nev's been busy with his studies, and he's set his ambitions really high. I'm finishing up my courses this year, and Dad's retiring then, so I'll be busy with the Quibbler for a while.”

“I see, that's really wonderful, Luna!” Hermione nodded sincerely. “Well, just don't forget to owl me when you do set the date. I'm going to Canada when the school term starts. McGonagall has offered me a position at her school.”

Neville grinned. “That's great Hermione!” But his grin faded to a frown when Luna slapped his arm. “But what about Harry?”

Hermione's brows knit with confusion. “What about Harry?”

“Don't mind Neville, Hermione. It's just that every one knows how much Harry really cares for you. But I can see that it's not like that,” Luna replied apologetically. “Don't think about it too much, Hermione. I think it's great that Professor McGonagall wants you in her school. We're just going to say goodbye to Ron and Lauren. Maybe we can catch up another time?”

Hermione nodded. “That would be wonderful. I'll see you both later.” She watched the couple disappear into the house. As she turned around for the forest again, she grew livid with what Lavender and Parvati were discussing now.

“Did you see that awful dress on Hermione? As if she could pull off a lavender. I just don't understand what Harry Potter sees in her. She's such a plain, dull bookworm,” Parvati exclaimed.

Lavender snooted. “She sure does put Donna Karan to shame. I saw that exact same dress two years ago. It's a good thing that I did not buy it then. It would have been a waste of my pounds to have something that smarty-pants Hermione owns.”

“And Harry was staring at her like he's never seen a dress be….. oh Hello Hermione! My, that's such a lovely dress on you!” Parvati's tone changed as she saw Hermione standing behind Lavender.

Hermione plastered a fake smile on her face. “How lovely to see you, Parvati and Lavender. And thank you, Parvati. My mum saw this dress in the latest Donna Karan catalog and ordered it for me while I was still at Hogwarts. Oh, Lavender, is that dress from Fendi? I must say, it's quite lovely, but you should put on another face. It just doesn't match too well.” She watched as Lavender's face changed color and held her laughter in place. “Well, it was lovely seeing the both of you. Oh, Parvati, you should go to the wedding reception. I must say, Ginny Weasley's dress is just lovely. I wouldn't know much about it. So maybe you should take a look.” She walked away, but paced her steps slowly to catch their conversation again.

“Oh, that Hermione Granger is so horrible! She thinks she's better than all of us!”

Hermione laughed as soon as she was an earshot away from Lavender and Parvati.

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

Ron was right. She was in the forest clearing. Doing what? He wasn't too sure.

Harry stayed behind a few shrubberies and trees as he watched Hermione strolling through the grass. Her arms were lifted up as she stretched her body, seemingly to be embracing nature. Never had she been more beautiful, when she was so relaxed. Another side of Hermione that Harry loved so much.

He took out the box from his pocket again. This is it. It's now or never. Breathing deeply, he walked toward Hermione.

“Harry?” she whispered, startled.

He grinned wryly at her. God, she's so beautiful. “I haven't seen you since, well, you know.”

She nodded. “I know. I'm really sorry. Did that…” she did a slow-motion of a punch. “Did it hurt you very much?”

Harry laughed. “Oh, my. What a swing you have! My jaw hurt for three days!”

Hermione blushed furiously. “You're exaggerating.”

“Yeah, I was.”

Harry moved next to Hermione and stood next to her as they both stared at the pond. They remained quiet for a long time.

“It's beautiful here, isn't it?” Hermione's soft voice broke the silence.

Harry nodded. “Yeah it is.” He stuffed his hand back into his pocket, toying with the box in between his fingers. “Hermione, I need to tell you something.”

Hermione's eyes widened with alarm. “Harry….”

He held up his hand to stop her from continuing. “Just let me finish before I lose my nerve.” Gently, he grabbed her hand and held it with both of his, caressing her skin softly. “Hermione, ever since fifth year, I've wanted to tell you this so badly. But, with Voldemort's threat, I couldn't. And ever since seventh year, after Voldemort's gone, I've wanted to tell you that… I care so much for you. You're so special to me. And these two years, I've tried to tell you, but…..”

Hermione gently pulled her hands away from his. “No, Harry. Don't say anything that you'll regret saying.”

Harry tried to grab her hands again, but when she wouldn't let, he tried to plead with his eyes. “No, you don't understand, Hermione. I love…”

“Harry, no! You listen to me! You didn't know what love was when you were living with the Dursleys, and when we've become best friends, that was your first taste of love! I was your first female friend and it's very easy that you would take things the wrong way.”

“Hermione, I love you!”

“Of course you do! I love you too! I've always had. You're my dearest friend.”

Harry grabbed his head with his hands, his frustrations taking control of his temper. “No, you're the one who doesn't understand! I'm in love with you, and for the past two years, I've done everything to show you my feelings! And you're telling me that I don't know how I feel about you? Every one knows that I love you, and you're the only one who's stupid enough to be blind for the past two years!”

“Well, I don't love you that way, Harry Potter! And don't you dare yell at me!” Hermione flashed back with hot tears in her eyes. She stormed past Harry and tried to leave, but Harry grabbed her arm to stop her. “Let me go, you insufferable prat!”

Harry lowered his voice. “No. Please, don't leave like this.”

Hermione's temper subsided a little as she stopped struggling. “Harry, listen to me. You're a wonderful person, and I love you for always being there for me, but I truly think you deserve a better woman. Someone who wants to love you and have your children and grow old with you. Someone who will remain faithful to you no matter what. I'm sorry.”

Harry shook his head violently. “No, Hermione. You are the only one for me. I've known so ever since I realized I was in love with you! Please, don't leave me…”

Hermione could feel the pain in her heart. She shook it off as she stared into Harry's eyes, which were now moistened with tears. “Harry, I'm leaving for Canada tomorrow. Really, it's best this way. I'm sorry.” With a quick hug and a kiss on his cheek, she ran away, not understanding why her heart was breaking and why she was crying.

Harry fell to his knees and buried his head in his hands, choking between sobs. “Hermione, no, please. Don't leave me…..”

Author's Note:

This is the fastest I've ever updated. I'm really enjoying writing this story very much! Thank you all for reviewing. It is really encouraging to know that you enjoy reading as well. Some parts of this chapter may sound weird or be grammatically incorrect. Well, this story isn't beta-ed right now…. Hopefully they're not too bad.

I'm really sorry, but I'm in a pothole right now for Touch. When I first began writing it, I had the plot all worked out, but I need to spend a little time thinking through dialogue and description. So, that story will be on hold for a little while. Therefore I'll be spending most of my free time working on By Searching, hopefully have this finished soon.

Anyhow, I'll just leave things like this for now. :)

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

Chapter THREE- a new beginning

Hermione stood in the middle of the Ministry of Magic, Floo Network department. She had just arrived a few minutes ago, after having said goodbye to her parents. It was difficult leaving them like she just did, and if she wasn't holding her emotions in check, she would have been sobbing as if she were leaving home the first time.

After going home after Ron's wedding, Hermione ran all the way up to her room, closed the door, and stayed inside the entire night. Even though she still needed to pack, she didn't want to. She sat in her bed, staring at the night sky through her window, thinking of Harry's heart-broken face in her head. It hurt that she had to break her best friend's heart. She tried to ignore the twinge in her heart, but it still wouldn't go away. For the longest time, she kept telling herself, that yes, this was indeed for the best. Harry would get over the silly idea of being in love with her after a while.

Her mum had tried to talk about the entire Harry thing, as she had come to call it, but Hermione had brushed it off, saying that things were going to be just as they were, that they were still best friends. Jane Granger knew better than to push things, and after prodding her daughter to finish her packing, she retired to her own room.

After Hermione finally got around to packing, it was time for her to meet Professor McGonagall in Kingsport, Prince Edward Island. She quickly hugged her parents, promising to write, and after a kiss each, she Disapparated for the Ministry of Magic.

The Floo department was flooded today. Hermione waited impatiently for her turn at the Floo. She was Floo number 430, which meant that she would be stuck here for another hour or so. Finally overcome with boredom, she fished through her purse for her writing folder, and with a Muggle ball-point pen (one that she kept in her bag when quills and ink wells were not convenient). She grinned peevishly at Crookshanks, her cat, who was sitting on top of her trunks. With a book propped on her lap to write on, she began working on her newest epic, The Musician's Quest.

Time passed by rather quickly as she wrote and wrote. Even though her concentration was mostly on her writing, she still paid heed to the numbers that were being called. “250, 251.” She sighed helplessly. Still a ways to go. Hopefully Professor McGonagall would figure out that the Floo network was trafficked.

Another hour had passed. Hermione was now entirely focused on her writing. When she paused to think about Elizabeth Perkins, entranced by the strings of sound from Robert Graves' violin, she suddenly heard her number being called. “430, 431.” She quickly closed her folder and stuffed it and the book back into her bag. Pushing the trolley in front of her, she scurried to the fireplace.

Crash!!!

Crookshanks was shrieking in anger, and her trunks were tossed all over the floor, mixed in between those of another person's. Hermione's knee was bruised from the jolt, and her ears were hurting as a man was yelling at her.

“What do you think you're doing, lady? Are you trying to kill me and my owl?” the tall man scolded while picking up his trunks. “I'm actually in a rush to get out of here for more important matters!!”

Hermione stiffly raised herself up as she stared cold straight into the man's eyes. “What do I think I'm doing? My number has just been called and I was just trying to make my way to my Floo room, so I can get out of here. And you should have been more careful! What right do you have to start yelling at me in the middle of the Ministry of Magic, just because oh, you of all people are in a rush.” She heaved her two heavy trunks back on top of the trolley. Lifting up Crookshanks' cage, she purred softly at him, trying to calm him after the shock of being overturned from a crash.

The man's angry face suddenly changed to a more amused look. “Let me help you with that. After all, I was being rude and selfish.” The man began to push Hermione's trolley.

She snorted and slapped his hands off. “I'm perfectly capable of pushing my own trolley. Good day, sir.” Lifting her chin high in the air, she limped slowly as she pushed the trolley to the first room, unwary of a brown folder that had slid under the man's trolley

The man stared at her back for a few minutes. As he began pushing his trolley, he noticed the wheels running over something other than tile. He bent over and found a brown folder. The lady must have dropped this during the accident. As Floo numbers were being called off, he decided that it was too late to give it back. Opening the file, he read the by-line, Hermione Granger. With a smirk on his face, he tucked the folder into his briefcase and exited the room.

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

Harry sat in the Grangers' living room, head resting on his hands, as Jane Granger set a cup of tea in front of him, on the coffee table. He had just barely missed her; he berated himself for not coming to see her after she left the Burrow. His tears were forcing to fall, but he did not want to cry in front of Hermione's parents, but when Jane handed him a box of tissues, one look at her kind face that reminded him so much of Hermione's own, and he broke down into sobs.

Jane sat down next to him, and glanced at her husband, Robert, who was sitting on the easy chair on the other side of the coffee table. He shrugged as he watched his wife hold the young man in her arms, allowing him to cry on her shoulder.

After releasing his pent-up emotions, he thanked the Grangers for tea, and decided to go home. Before leaving, he handed Jane a small black box. Without saying a word, Jane nodded in understanding. A look of relief washed over Harry's face, and he picked up his invisibility cloak and walked to the garden, where his Firebolt was lying.

“Harry! Wait a second!” Jane called out to him. She hurried over to the mantel over the fireplace and picked up a framed picture. It was one of Hermione, holding onto her most favorite book in the world, Hogwarts, a History, and Harry, whose arm was around her shoulder, as he pressed his head close to hers while they smiled at the camera. “Here. Take this with you.”

Harry took the frame with shaking hands, not knowing what to say. His eyes spoke volumes for him, as Jane gave him a quick hug. “Take care of yourself, Harry, and don't make yourself scarce, all right?”

He nodded, and after whispering, “Thank you,” he mounted his Firebolt, covered himself with the cloak, and flew out into the night sky.

Jane closed the door after Harry. With box in hand, she went to sit on the armchair of Robert's easy chair. They both gasped in surprise when she opened the box, only to reveal a twenty-five karat white diamond sitting on a platinum ring.

“What do you think he wanted when he gave you the ring?” Robert asked, still dazed at the ring.

“He was going to propose to her,” Jane mumbled.

“But Hermione's not here.”

“And she had already turned him down once. He's letting her go. He loves her so much that he's willing to let her search for the love that had been staring at her face this whole time.”

Robert's face dawned with understanding. “She's lucky to have such a man love her. I'll keep this in the safe until she returns.”

“You do that, honey.” Jane handed the box to her husband and planted a kiss on his forehead. “For her own good, I hope Hermione will understand one day.”

“I do too. Harry would be wonderful to have for a son, wouldn't he?”

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

Hermione was irritated. She hated traveling by Floo, especially the nauseating feeling experienced when engulfed by the green flames and then being twirled into the next fireplace. After dusting herself off, she looked up to see her former Transfigurations teacher eyeing her amusingly.

“Professor McGonagall!” Hermione exclaimed as Minerva McGonagall helped Hermione up to her feet.

Minerva smiled fondly at her former student. “I'm glad you've made it here fine, though a little tardy, Miss Granger.” She spread her arms out. “Welcome to Kingsport College for Witches.”

Hermione glanced around her surroundings. Unlike Hogwarts, which she had thought was a little dark and gloomy, Kingsport College for Witches was colorful, with bright freshly painted walls, and chandeliers hanging from the ceiling gave the room a much brighter look. “It's lovely here, Professor.”

Minerva nodded stiffly. “I believe you have earned the right to call me Minerva, Hermione.” Hermione's face lit up with a bright smile. “Come; let's get you settled in your quarters. The maid will have someone deliver your trunks to your room.”

Hermione followed Minerva out of the headmistress' office, taking the staircase down. She took in the interior decorating of the room, admiring every bit of architecture along the way.

“This is such a lovely place, Minerva.”

“Oh yes, it is. Also quite a maintenance job, I must say.”

“I'm sure it is.” Hermione stared at the wall paintings in the hallways. She gasped in surprise when she recognized one of them. “Monet? Minerva, that's a….”

Minerva let out a small chuckle. “Yes, it is, Hermione. As you'll come to understand, the school is financed by many Muggle-born families, who send their daughters to our school. The prejudices you've faced at Hogwarts is nearly inexistent here. Well, at least you don't have to worry too much about pure-blood and Muggle-born disputes here.”

“It'd be nice for a change. What could be much worse than facing the Malfoys and their grubby bunch of Death-eater fiends?”

Minerva laughed nervously. “Perhaps you wouldn't be so quick to judge, Hermione, until you've been properly introduced to your students.” She took out a key from her pocket and handed it to Hermione. “This is your quarters. I'm sure you'll find it suitable. One of the housekeepers will bring a tray for you around dinnertime, so you can stay in and rest before classes begin tomorrow.”

Hermione nodded. “Now that you mentioned it, I am a little tired. Thanks, Minerva. It's going to be a great year for me.”

“I'm glad you think so. Anyhow, I'll leave you alone now.” Minerva gave Hermione a small hug and turned back into the corridor.

Hermione unlocked the door to her rooms, and she gasped in delight. She could hardly imagine a place more beautiful than the site before her. The room was round-shaped, with a dome for a ceiling and tall French windows covering most of the walls. The windows were adorned with lace curtains. In the middle of the circular wall was a four-poster bed, on each side night tables in which Hermione could imagine stacking her favorite bedtime readings. To the left side of the bed, an Italian desk carved from oak stood in front of a brick wall next to one of the magnificent windows. She opened the cover and smiled inwardly how each drawer was filled with fresh parchment and the inkwell was full to the rim. Already, she could envision herself planning her lessons and writing her stories. She moved over to the closet, which released the smell of fresh pine wood when she opened the doors. Her lips curled with a pleased smile that her clothes had already been organized and put away. And her private bathroom, with its marble tiles and gilded wall trimmings, it was no wonder this town was reputed to be one of the most affluent places in the entire Prince Edward Island.

She took off her robe and hung it over the armoire. After removing the clips to her hair, she collapsed into the bed, and fell asleep.

Author's Notes:

Thank you so much for the reviews! It has been very encouraging to read through them. Now to clarify a few things.

First of all, the works of fiction that Hermione has been working on, The Maiden's Bequest and The Musician's Quest, these are actually titles of books written by the Scottish writer George McDonald. They're actually very good books, especially The Maiden's Bequest, which is known as one of his most famous books.

Second, yes, the story is based on the Anne of Green Gables stories. Even though it's not an H/Hr ship in the beginning, it WILL end that way. Actually, Hermione will figure things out somewhere in the middle of the story. I want to have a little fun with this, so, I'll just stop talking about this here.

Third, I almost forgot. The title, By Searching, was taken from Isobel Kuhn's autobiography, By Searching. Though my story has nothing to do with religion itself, I thought the title itself spoke many volumes and had decided to use it.

Lastly, I wanted to write more for this chapter, but I've decided this was the best spot to end this chapter.

Hope you enjoyed Chapter 3 as well. Again, thank you for reading, and please don't forget to review.

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

Chapter Four - Unexpected

The first six weeks of term were over, and Hermione was already half-relieved that time had passed by so quickly. For the most part, it was an awful experience. And almost every night, Hermione wished that the next day wouldn't come, so she could stay within her dream world instead.

She had been so excited for the first day of school. When she walked in her classroom, her face lit up with a smile and anticipation, she nearly dropped her books, as all the girls were sitting on top of their desk tops. After looking down, she'd realize then that someone had set a cart full of rats into the classroom, and how the girls were able to reach their desks, she wasn't too sure. With a small Transfigurations spell, she quickly turned the rats into goblets.

The next day, she half-expected to find snakes in her room, but she was relieved, when all the girls were sitting properly. However, when she asked a certain student a question, the student would begin to speak, but with no sound evading her mouth! At first she imagined that the girls had decided to prank on their professor. She decided to transfigure a clock into a bat, which suddenly began flying all over the room, elicit soundless clamor around the room. Carefully watching the girls, she'd realize that they were mute. Later, after she was cleaning the room after classes were over for the day, she found wrappers to Silent Screamers in her trash can. With her fingers clenched, she'd decided that the next time she saw Fred and George Weasley, she'd hex them into the next century.

The pranks from the students continued for the most part, and Hermione found herself being manipulated out of control. For once, she craved for the silent anticipation that her Hogwarts students exhibited, and for the warmth and friendliness from the staff, even from Severus Snape. Never in her life had she thought that there could be anyone who was even far colder and much more distanced than her old Potions Master. That was true, until she met Serena Styler, who was the professor of potions at Kingsport. Hermione had once tried to legitimize potions professors and coldness at heart, as cold-blooded Potions professors seem to come a pence a dozen; she later concluded that staying in a dark dungeon for over a normal period of time was bound to cause damage to the friendly spirit.

Serena Styler has a personal agenda against her, Hermione declared once in her journal. This woman, though she was actually quite pretty, and if she would just smile once in a while, her face wouldn't be so stiff. She clothed herself with long, shapeless dresses that were as black as Snape's robes. Her hair was always tied in a bun, so tightly that one could see the scalp of her head. Hermione thought her eyes were beautiful though; beautiful, but ice-pricking cold. When she spoke, she caught the attention of the listener, even though her voice was barely a whisper. After a few encounters with Serena Styler in the first few weeks of school, Hermione decided that Styler hated her with a passion. Why? She'd have to want death sooner than to ask.

There were, however, a few merits at Kingsport. For one, Hermione simply adored Juliet Marceau, a third year in her Transfigurations class. Unlike the other girls, after the first week of classes, Juliet Marceau singly did not partake in any of the pranks. She would listen intently in class, while the rest of the girls were passing notes, throwing wads of papers around with their wands, and eating snacks. And the practical part of the lessons proved just as well. While the rest of the girls still couldn't transfigure a matchstick to a pin, Juliet had already advanced to transfiguring rats into goblets. One of the reasons that Hermione continued with her lessons, despite the poor learning attitude of her class, was because of Juliet. And she had reserved a special smile for her pupil.

And thankfully, not all professors were all cold-hearted as Serena Styler. She found a friend in Sarah Jones, the Charms professor. Sarah and she were about the same age, and Serena Styler had the same disgust with Sarah as she had with Hermione. A petite woman with chestnut-colored hair and hazel eyes, one would never think that crossing this little woman could elicit the most painful hexes that anyone could ever think of. Hermione was very grateful for Sarah, and often, she was reminded of a certain friend back home.

Then she had to lose her writing folder. She remembered stuffing it into her bag at the Floo building, but it wasn't there, neither was it anywhere in her quarters. Even though she had written Arthur Weasley to check for her if anyone had found it, she was sure that it was long gone, and was very distraught over the loss of her writing folder.

However, the one event that catastrophically ruin the day for her was the owl that had just came in with her mail. For the past few weeks, she had mulled over the idea of writing to Harry. She had frequently sent owls to Ron and Lauren, who both enjoyed a two-week honeymoon in Florence, Italy. Most of the time, when she wrote, she'd generally avoided the Harry subject. And though she wondered how her best friend was doing, she couldn't get herself to write him, because every time she thought of him, the image of his heartbroken face wouldn't leave her.

Not only so, she missed him very much, more than anyone else back home. Even after the Harry incident, she still loved him. After seven years of Hogwarts together, it wasn't difficult to learn to love Harry. Most of the girls thought of him as Harry, the boy-who-lived, but she knew him as Harry, just Harry. He was so kind and caring, and oh, his heart was so big. There was so much love in Harry's heart that Hermione often wondered how that could be, especially considering the life he had, up until Voldemort was destroyed. And consider what he had accomplished before his eighteenth birthday. It was also a wonder to his close friends that he was still humble and shy.

When she had first begun to decorate her room with her things, she had unconsciously placed pictures of Harry and her all over the mantel over the fireplace, one on her desk, and a few on the nightstand. By the time she'd realize that she had no room for her parents' and Ron and Lauren's pictures, she didn't want to remove them. Thus, she placed a sticking charm on the other pictures and plastered them on the wall in front of her desk. Whenever she was tired from working or re-writing The Musician's Quest, she'd stare at those pictures and imagine them at home, though most of her time, she was unaware that her eyes were set on the one picture of Harry.

She hadn't opened this letter yet. The handwriting on the envelope was recognizably Ron's. She reached over and fluffed the feathers on the owl's head, and sat on the edge of her bed, leaning closely to the lamp. Slowly she unrolled the parchment, scanning the lines quickly, not expecting tears to be falling down her cheek. When she was finished, she tossed the letter onto the floor, and hurled into her pillows, sobbing.

And the worst of all worst things that had happened to her these past few weeks? She couldn't even put her feelings into words.

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

Harry was sitting in the armchair that faced the fireplace in his room. So much had happened, and though being back at Hogwarts was good, he only wished that the woman he loved was with him. However, she was faraway across an ocean, in another country, teaching and writing to her heart's desire.

Ron and Lauren had returned from their honeymoon, only to find Harry passed out in the middle of his flat, with dozens of firewhiskey lying on the floor. The both of them had cleaned Harry up, changed his clothes, and laid him in bed. By the time he woke up, his hangover was so severe, that he had to stay in bed for two days before his head cleared up. And Ron had stayed by his side the whole time. Since then, they'd forbidden him from touching firewhiskey, and though his fingers itched for a bottle, he abided with their rules.

He'd missed his job training as well. The Federation was not so pleased that he had missed out on such an opportunity. Even though they had decided to give him one more chance, Harry decided that it wasn't what he wanted any more. After he overcame his hangover, he immediately wrote a letter to the Head Auror's office, having decided to retire from his job as well. Four days later, Professor Dumbledore came to visit him, offering him to come to Hogwarts. Harry had accepted immediately.

His thoughts went back to the day that he had visited the Grangers. Giving them his ring seem to be a good idea at that time. He knew that they would keep it for Hermione, until she was ready, just as well as he knew deep in his heart that Hermione loved him, truly loved him. She said that she wasn't good enough for him, that she couldn't love him as he loved her. Damn those romantic ideas of hers! They've only dragged her further into her imaginative world!

And all these years, she was perfect in his sight. And she remained by his side, loyal to the end, even when facing Voldemort.

Sometimes, on the rare occasions that he would let his mind venture into the dark memories of facing Voldemort, he thought about the strength behind the power that he had elicit in killing the Dark Lord. When he talked this over with Remus and Dumbledore, they said that they weren't too sure, but perhaps it was channeled through Harry's mother's love, which had saved him the first time.

After seven years of being hunted and chased after by Voldemort, his two best friends stayed by his side through thick and thin. While Ron was loyal to him and fought by his side, it was Hermione who had also worried and cared for him, prepped him, and at the end, nursed his wounds and his hurts. It was no wonder that Remus and Dumbledore didn't understand the true power that existed that fateful night. Because only Harry saw it.

He loved her ever since first year, and he loved her more after seventh year. And he was sure that she loved him too. If only she truly saw….

But never did he expect Hermione to reject him as she did that day at Ron's wedding. And for the first time, he doubted her love for him. Perhaps it wasn't the rejection that broke his heart. It was more so that she had denied the essence of his living.

And Harry knew that there was nothing he could do now. And he didn't want to do anything. He unrolled a piece of parchment out flat, dipped his quill into the inkwell, and wrote the letter that he would never give to Hermione.

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

The students had just finished their meal at the Dining Hall and were ready to return to their rooms, until Minerva stood up and asked the students to remain seated. Then she spoke in a clear voice:

“There will be a slight change of events this year. Professor Dumbledore and I have discussed this thoroughly for the past three weeks, and we've decided that it would be good for both schools to have an exchange program. While Hogwarts is a co-educational school and Kingsport is witches only, we thought it might be a good learning experience for both schools to see the different cultures and traditions that both schools represent. And thus, there will be some boys coming to our school for the next month.”

The students began to chatter as they heard the last part. Minerva held out her hand and gave them a stern look. Hermione hid a smile behind her hand and winked at Sarah, who was fighting from laughing at Serena Styler's look of disgust.

“As for the students who will be chosen to go on this trip, we shall resort to a fair method. When the Hogwarts students come, their professor-in-charge will bring with them the Sorting Hat. We shall use it to decide for us. And mind you all, I am only allowing third year students on this trip.” More groans. “With second years taking their OWLs and fourth years the NEWTs, I don't think any of you should complain. That is all.”

Hermione watched the students leave, both excited about meeting other students and disappointed about not being allowed to go. She turned around to look at Minerva, but couldn't get past the cold stare from Serena Styler. Hermione stared back, but gave up when Serena Styler suddenly snorted and left for her office.

As she was ready to leave for her own office, Minerva asked her to follow her to the headmistress' office. Minerva conjured a cup of hot chocolate for Hermione as she sat down.

“What is it, Minerva?” Hermione asked as she took a sip from her mug.

Minerva played with her fingers as she gazed at Hermione, opting to remain silent for a few minutes. They both listened to the clock ticking. Hermione gazed out of the window, and she sighed as the lights that covered the school grounds flickered in the darkness.

“I've heard about what happened to Mr. Potter, Hermione,” Minerva said, breaking the silence between them.

Hermione's head turned sharply back at the headmistress. “You did?” she asked carefully.

Minerva nodded briefly. “I'm surprised that it happened, but it was not shocking. Mr. Potter has been pining for you since first year, and when you still didn't respond to his attentions in seventh year, I knew that he was in for heartbreak. What surprised me was that Miss Hermione Granger yourself.”

Hermione's eyes opened widely. “Me, Min-er-va?” she stuttered. “What did I do?”

Minerva smirked. “Of course, you. Tell me, Hermione, how many OWLs and NEWTs did you score?”

“Fifteen each.” ***

“Right. The record in the entire wizarding community, wasn't it? And tell me, Hermione, what were your grades from your corresponding courses with the university?”

“4.0, but what does this have to do with anything?”

Minerva sighed. “My dear, you are the most intelligent witch this world has ever seen, yet you are the blindest one as well. Ron Weasley has written me. Harry Potter had intoxicated himself with firewhiskey for two whole weeks.”

Hermione felt tears stinging her eyes as she whispered, “I know. Ron wrote me as well. Harry also missed training with the Federation of Wizards as well.”

“And you're not happy here.”

“Why do you say that?”

“It's obvious. But the actual why? You should know yourself.” Minerva cleared her throat before continuing. “Anyhow, Professor Granger, since you were once a Hogwarts student and professor, I wanted to talk to you about the professor would be accompanying the visiting students, as well as the Astronomy professor.”

Hermione nodded. That was expected. “But why only tell me? It's not that relevant.”

Minerva's lips curled into a small smile. “And you're not one bit curious?”

Hermione laughed quietly. “Yes, I am.”

“Good. Because that professor is Mr. Potter himself.”

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

Author's Notes:

I'm sorry for the yucky Chapter Three. That was actually a difficult chapter for me to write, and I had ended it differently than I had planned before. But hopefully, this chapter will make up what the previous chapter three lacks.

*** I never actually understood the canon to the OWLs and NEWTs. What is the max that one can score on them?