Runaway by kzerina

Rating: PG
Genres: Drama, Romance
Relationships: Harry & Hermione
Book: Harry & Hermione, Books 1 - 5
Published: 28/05/2004
Last Updated: 21/02/2006
Status: In Progress

Hermione has an unexpected and unwanted outburst. It causes many problems to arise between her
and Harry--ones that cause him to disappear.




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

Runaway

Prologue

By: KZerina

It had been five whole minutes. Hermione had been finding many nit-picky things about which to
complain having to do with her boyfriend, Harry Potter. These were anything from his love of
Quidditch to his grades, which weren’t that bad anyway. The two had never fought in their two years
of dating, or even in their six years of friendship, and this was a one-sided argument. Hermione
argued, while Harry stood there with a mixture of confusion and fear on his face that grew even
more confused as she threw her silver pendant necklace with sapphires surrounding a ruby lightning
bolt, the most precious symbol of their relationship, at him. He barely caught it as it ricocheted
off his chest. He looked at it and swallowed hard. Hermione stormed out of the boys’ dormitory with
a snort.

She stomped into her dormitory and was going to fume while sitting on her bed, but then she
stopped. She realized what she’d just done. She was totally overcome, and she broke down and cried
herself to sleep that night.

When she woke up and went to breakfast, she found Ron sitting at the Gryffindor table examining
a large bruise on his upper arm.

“Where’s Harry?” she asked him.

Ron shrugged. “I didn’t want to touch him. He might give me a matching set.” He pointed at the
ugly purple mark on his arm.

“Harry did that?” Hermione asked in astonishment.

“Yeah. He was being all zoned out. I went to see if he was all right. I touched his shoulder to
get his attention, and he punched me, though I’m not sure if he realized it. He made no other
responses to *anything*.”

Hermione moved her attention to not crying. She hadn’t meant to do this to him. She didn’t know
what she was doing or why she was doing it. She couldn’t believe that she’d yelled at him for no
reason whatsoever.

“Are you all right, Herm?” Ron asked, concerned. “You look like you’re about to break down.”

“That’s because I am, Ron. You don’t know why he’s like that, do you?”

“No, he wasn’t exactly very talkative last night, and he was still sleeping when I got up this
morning, or at least he looked like he was asleep.” Ron put his arm around her and held her while
she fought back the tears. “It’ll be okay, Herm. He’ll get over it.”

“He might, but I don’t know how long that’ll take. I’d tell you what was wrong with him if we
weren’t in the Great Hall.”

“You know?”

“Yeah, but I’ll have to tell you later.”

Ron nodded and held her comfortingly. Hermione still felt like crying, but her red-haired best
friend’s willingness to help kept her from doing so. She was quite grateful to him for that.

Both ate breakfast quietly and went back to the Tower together.

“You know,” Ron said, “if we’re not careful, everyone’s going to think you’re cheating on
Harry.”

That comment made Hermione want to cry even more; though she couldn’t blame Ron for his
ignorance of what happened the previous night. She closed her eyes and breathed slowly and deeply.
Ron stopped and looked back at her.

“What? Did I do something wrong?”

“Not since you didn’t know. You mentioned Harry’s and my relationship. It’s just a touchy
subject.”

“Touchy? Why?”

“That’s what I have to tell you about.”

“Bloody hell. You mean it’s—” Ron stuttered.

“Over,” Hermione finished. She choked back tears as she sat on the couch behind her and put her
face in her hands, where tears leaked through. Ron sat down next to her and held her as a best
friend, trying unsuccessfully to comfort her.

“So that’s why he’s acting weird, but if you’re crying, and he wants time to himself, who ended
it?”

“I did. I don’t know what happened. I just—I don’t know.”

She turned away from Ron, tears still welling up in her eyes. She wiped them away with the
sleeve of her robes. “I’m going to my room,” she told Ron. “I’m going to lie down. If anyone asks,
I don’t feel well.”

As she went upstairs, Harry brushed past her. They bumped shoulders, and Harry didn’t even
mutter an apology as he normally would for anyone, nor did he look back. He didn’t seem to notice
Ron sitting on the couch as he swept through the common room and out of the Tower. He didn’t seem
to be in a pleasant mood, though she couldn’t blame him after what she’d done to him.

Hermione sighed and continued on her way. She went and lay down on her bed, crying into her
pillow. She ignored her dorm mates when they asked what was wrong or gossiped in the corner. She
couldn’t believe what she’d done. How could she have done that to Harry?

She was lucky it was a Saturday since she cried herself to sleep even though it was morning. She
couldn’t keep herself from crying. She couldn’t bring herself to go to Harry and explain, either.
She just couldn’t let him see her like this—blotchy, puffy eyes; red, wet cheeks; hyperventilation.
He couldn’t see this, not even a glimpse.

As she gained some of her senses after walking up around noon, Hermione took Hogwarts, A History
out of her trunk and began reading it. Halfway through the first page, she shut the book and put it
away since she even had trouble reading her favorite book. She just lay on her bed and clutched her
pillow to keep from crying.

A rap on the door caught her attention. Maybe it was Harry coming to see her and tell her
everything was all right between them, even though they had a bad time with the breakup, but she
soon found out that she was hoping for too much. Ron had come to see if she wanted to go eat
lunch.

She replied with an affirmative, though it was a sad response since she’d gotten her hopes
up.

“I’m sure it’ll be okay once he cools off,” Ron tried to comfort. “He can’t stay mad and aloof
forever.”

“Never underestimate him. He can do anything he sets his mind to.”

Hermione sighed and put on a pair of shoes, almost on the wrong feet. Crookshanks approached and
demanded attention that he didn’t receive to which he was very indignant.

During a very silent lunch, Harry came in sat at the end of the table closest to the doors. Many
of the students looked at him, but one glare from his burning, green eyes made them turn back to
what they were doing. He ate and left—nothing more, nothing less. Only what was necessary.

The teachers who noticed looked concerned, even Snape. He may hate Harry, but even he can tell
when something is wrong with him and doesn’t want him to be that way since it could possibly be
dangerous for him and his precious Slytherins.

Hermione was worried for Harry. She decided to let him cool off and then apologize to him for
her stupid outburst. Hopefully he would calm down soon. She couldn’t stand not being able to talk
to him.

Hermione finished her lunch and went back to Gryffindor Tower to read something. She was hoping
to at least see Harry, but he wasn’t there. He’d probably gone off to think somewhere, like the
lake or the Quidditch pitch. He’d return soon, possibly cooled off after his time to think; then
she could talk to him.

She went to her dormitory, semi-smiling that she’d be able to talk to him that evening and
everything would be back to what it had been, before the previous night. Hermione pulled out the
book she had checked out of the library a couple days earlier and continued reading it.

Later, Parvati and Lavender came in blabbering about Harry and how angry he seemed. They were
curious to know why he was that way and why Ron and Hermione weren’t with him. When they asked,
Hermione put her book away and left the room, heading for the library, where she would have a
chance for peace and quiet, away from all the gossip in her dormitory. Normally she would just tune
it out, but this time the subject involved someone too close to her heart. She couldn’t stand it.
They never even thought about what they were saying or what it could mean to the other people
around them. They were so inconsiderate.

Hermione grabbed a book off the shelves and sat at a table reading it. She noticed someone
sitting in a corner, moving quickly. Several books were scattered around him, and he was examining
them carefully and scribbling on the parchment in his lap. She tried to look more closely at what
he was studying so intently. It was then that she realized the boy was Harry, and he was examining
a multitude of maps of Great Britain.

His eyes were filled with the same fiery stare, as they had been earlier, showing her that Harry
was still angry so she couldn’t talk to him now, even while they were alone. The concentration in
his eyes, along with the bonfire, worried her. She wasn’t sure what he was going to do with those
maps he had or what he was writing down.

She didn’t want to talk to him right then. It would just make matters worse than they already
were. She couldn’t do that. She wanted to be able to talk to him, but their relationship, even as
friends, was sitting on the edge of a rocky cliff.

There was no sign that Harry had even noticed her sit down. She watched him for a few minutes
before getting up and leaving him to his geographical studies. She checked out the book she’d
picked up and left the library, but she wasn’t sure where to go. She didn’t want to go back to her
dormitory for fear of the gossip chain hitting her up for information again, but then where should
she go?

The pitch—the Quidditch pitch, that was it. She could be in Harry’s favorite place in the entire
world and have a part of him there without him actually being there to accidentally bother. It
would have to do until she could talk to Harry again.

Hermione sat in the Gryffindor bleachers reading her book, and before she knew it, the sun was
setting, and the owls were leaving for their nightly hunts. She headed back to the castle and went
to dinner in the Great Hall. Harry hadn’t shown up during any of the time she was at the pitch. Ron
said that he hadn’t seen anything of Harry since lunch, which was almost the same between everyone
else who, if they had seen him, had only seen him passing in the hall.

Hermione knew this wouldn’t boil over anytime soon. Harry wasn’t communicating with anyone, not
even Ron—no one.

After dinner, Hermione went to the common room and read more of her book, nearly to the end.
Harry swept up to his dormitory, and Hermione assumed he’d gone to bed since he wasn’t seen again
before she went to bed, which was later than usual.

As she went to sleep, Hermione thought more about what she’d done to Harry and how he might be
feeling. She realized how long it might take him to get over what she’d done since it was so sudden
and uncalled for. She sighed and lay there for a while, eventually falling asleep.

Hermione woke up a little earlier than she usually did. While she showered, she decided that no
matter what kind of mood Harry was in when she saw him next, she was going to talk to him and
apologize for her actions. If he was still mad at her, so be it. At least she would get it over
with and on her way to recovery.

After drying her hair, she went down to the common room to wait for Harry since it was still
early for him. She lay back on the couch and waited. It seemed like hours before Ron came down.

“Ron, where’s Harry?”

“Not now, Herm.”

“Yes, Ron, *now*.”

Ron looked at her. Hermione glared back. She wasn’t going to let Ron go anywhere until he told
her of Harry’s whereabouts.

Ron’s gaze slowly moved from hers as he sighed. “Come on.”

Ron turned and trudged back up the spiral staircase. His attitude worried her. She wasn’t sure
what to expect when they reached the boys’ dormitory. He wasn’t dead, was he? No, Ron would be even
worse off than he was if Harry had killed himself.

They reached the door, and Ron placed his hand gently on Hermione’s shoulder before opening the
door. He entered first with a sad face. He stepped aside for Hermione to enter and allowed her to
take in the scene that had been revealed to her.

Harry’s bed was completely unruffled. Not a wrinkle was in sight. His bedside table was clear of
everything but a couple of candles. She didn’t see anything wrong with the place. He’d just cleaned
up after himself before going to breakfast.

“What?”

Ron looked at Hermione wide-eyed. “‘What?’ Herm, look. His trunk is gone,” he said. He dragged
her over to Harry’s wardrobe and flung the doors open. “It’s empty. Everything of his disappeared.
It’s gone. *He’s* gone.”

“Gone?”

Ron nodded. “He ran away, Herm. He’s gone..”

“That’s what he was doing with the maps…. Gone. He’s *gone*. No…he can’t be gone…. Harry….
No….”

Hermione sniffed and burst out of the room, tears streaming down her cheeks. She threw herself
on her bed and cried harder than she’d ever cried before in her life.



2. Blizzard
-----------

Disclaimer: I forgot to put this in the last part. I do not own Harry Potter or anything
associated with it.

Runaway

Chapter 1-Blizzard

By KZerina

“Hermione, it’s been four years. I don’t think he’s going to randomly show up on our doorstep
one day. He has no plans of coming back.”

“I don’t care. We can’t have the wedding without him. He *should* be your best man.”

Hermione spun the engagement ring around her finger. She looked at her fiancé and sighed at him.
“Harry may have left, but that doesn’t mean we should just leave him out on his own.”

“If he’s been out on his own for four years,” Ron said, “I think he can handle himself.”

“He’s been able to handle himself since he was running from his cousin’s gang in elementary
school—before Hogwarts. That’s not what this is about. This is about him as our friend, and him
being at our wedding. It’s not right to not have the third member of the ‘Gryffindor’ trio, the
leader, at the wedding of the other two. It’s just not right.”

There was a long pause in the conversation as all that Hermione said sank into Ron’s thoughts.
He sighed and looked out the window at the bright green trees of spring at the Burrow.

They were spending time with Ron’s family as a break from hiking across the British countryside,
searching for their missing best friend for four long years. They did this every few months to
collect themselves and figure out another possible game plan for finding Harry.

This was a particularly trying period. Ron wanted to stop searching for Harry and have the
wedding. Hermione wanted to keep looking because they couldn’t be so ungrateful to him for
everything he’d done for them over the seven years they had him with them as to leave him out of
the wedding.

Mrs. Weasley popped into the room to inform them of dinner. Hermione nodded to her in
acknowledgement, saying they would be down in a minute.

“Ron, just think about it over dinner. Think about what Harry really means to you and how much
he should be there for this.”

“And you think of how much we mean to him if he just up and leaves without even leaving a note
saying goodbye.”

Ron had a point. He never said he was leaving, but the maps explained it. He’d had the maps of
Great Britain and was studying them, writing things down. It was hard to explain to Ron, because he
just didn’t get it.

Hermione followed Ron out of the room and washed her hands before heading to the kitchen for
dinner. Mrs. Weasley always gave gracious portions of food to all who dined under her roof.
Hermione was grateful of this since she and Ron didn’t always have the *best* food out on the
trail.

Hopefully Ron would come to his senses before she had to take drastic measures. She didn’t want
to do that to him. He deserved better, but if he was going to leave his best friend out of the
wedding, there was something wrong, and she wasn’t going to put up with it.

She quietly ate the food Mrs. Weasley set for the family. Hermione kept sharing glances with Ron
who was across the table from her. He seemed to be hoping she’d change her mind. She thought maybe
he would. Both were stubborn and would probably keep their own opinion and follow it. Hermione
would have to leave, and Ron would stay with his family and move on with his life. If Harry didn’t
matter enough to him, then she would just leave him behind and find Harry on her own.

After all four of the people at the Burrow, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, Ron, and Hermione, were
finished eating, Hermione cleared the dishes and washed them for Mrs. Weasley since she wasn’t an
ungrateful guest. She dried her hands and went upstairs to her borrowed room and packed up her
things she’d used over the past few days. She was going to leave today, continuing her search for
her best friend who’d never let her down, and she was going to find him with or without Ron.

She looked down at her engagement ring. It had been two years since Ron had proposed to her.
They had been going out for a little over a year at that time. It was a clear night, and they were
stargazing. They’d even found the constellation Leo, the Great Lion, Harry’s sign.

Hermione couldn’t help but think that maybe he, too, had been looking at those same stars, under
which Ron asked her hand in marriage, at the very same time. It would have been nice to have had
him there as a witness when Ron “popped the question.” Harry should have been there, and he should
be at the wedding, but if Ron didn’t get his head screwed on straight, there wasn’t going to be a
wedding at all.

Footsteps came up the stairs and stopped at the door. A knock sounded, and Hermione stood up to
answer it.

She cracked it open a little, just enough to see whom it was. Ron stood there.

“Can I come in?” he asked.

“Yeah, sure.” Hermione opened the door to let him in, then shut it again behind him.

“What are you doing, Hermione?”

“I’m packing. I’m setting off again tonight. Are you coming?”

“I don’t know, Hermione. I still say four years is enough. He left without even a note of
goodbye. He doesn’t want us around, and he doesn’t want to be around us, or he would have said
something. Stop making it what it’s not.”

“While you maybe right, I’m not changing my mind. I am going to find Harry no matter what it
takes.”

Hermione threw the last pair of socks into her travel sack and slung it over her shoulder.
Grabbing her cloak that hung on a hook near the door, she walked out and went downstairs, Ron
following her. She dropped her stuffed by the front door, trying to locate Mr. and Mrs. Weasley to
say goodbye to them.

Ron grabbed her arm and sat her down in a chair at the kitchen table. He sat on the other
side.

“Hermione, please, rethink this. Do you know what you’re really doing?”

“What if I find him?”

“What if you don’t?”

“Then you won’t ever see me again. I’m leaving, and I’m not coming back until I find him. If I
don’t find him, I’m not coming back, and if that means that this isn’t going to work out, then so
be it.”

Hermione slipped the engagement ring off of her finger and set it on the table, sliding it
across to where Ron sat, shock covering his face.

“I hope to see you soon,” she said giving him a small kiss on the cheek and heading off to say
goodbye to her wonderful hosts.

“Goodbye, Mrs. Weasley. Thank you so much for letting me stay here.”

“Oh, are you leaving? When will you be back? I can’t wait to have you here again.”

“I don’t have any idea. I’m not returning until I find Harry which means that I may never be
back. I hope I do get to come back. I love this place so much, but I’m determined to find Harry and
give him a piece of my mind for leaving.”

“Not too badly, I hope. Then he might not want to come back with you, which I hope you’ll try to
convince him to do.”

Hermione smiled. “Of course, I will, why wouldn’t I?”

“I don’t know. Well, good luck. Bring him back or you’ll have to deal with me.” Mrs. Weasley
pulled Hermione into a tight hug. “At least write?”

“When I can get to an owl post service office. I don’t know how often that’ll be. Thanks
again.”

Hermione hugged Mrs. Weasley again and hugged Mr. Weasley goodbye. She went to the door and
grabbed her knapsack off the floor. She draped her cloak over her shoulders and headed out the
door, leaving Ron behind her, fidgeting with the ring she left behind with him.

Hermione decided to head west towards Wales. They hadn’t searched there yet so she decided to
try it. She hiked, covering as much ground between Ottery-St. Catchpole and the border between
England and Wales as she could. She’d gotten used to hiking everywhere she went. She seemed to be
able to walk longer everyday without tiring. She stopped when it got dark and set up camp where she
cooked, bathed in a nearby freezing cold stream, and slept, gaining energy for the next day’s
hike.

Upon entering Wales and crossing its marshes, the hikes became more difficult as her hike took
her up the Cambrian Mountains, a much tougher road to travel. She kept loosing her footing or
slipping on rocks. She wasn’t used to the mountainous terrain.

It had been close to a year since she’d left the Burrow. Winter was in full swing. Hermione
needed a place to warm up. Luckily, she could see a town just a little ways up the road on which
she hiked.

When she entered the small village, she was greeted with a warm welcome form the few people in
the street. One came over and offered her services.

“Hello, dear. You must be cold. Allow me to take you to Emlyn’s. You’ll be able to warm up
there, refill your supplies, and find a place to stay.”

“Thank you, ma’am,” Hermione replied.

Hermione allowed herself to be led to the general store. Indeed the town was very small. There
was a small section devoted to housing, and another section devoted to business. As she and the
woman entered the store, which reminded her very much of a general store from an old American
“Western” movie, an old man stepped out and greeted them.

“Hello, Cordelia. I see you’ve brought a friend with you.”

“Yes, she just came to town and needs a place to stay.”

“Actually,” Hermione said, “I’m looking for someone—maybe you’ve seen him. He’s got messy,
jet-black hair and bright green eyes.”

The storekeeper thought for a moment. “No. No, I’m sorry. I haven’t seen him, but up the
mountain a little ways is someone who might be able t—”

A loud crash was heard as a tower of soup cans tumbled from its pyramid. A loud yowl, much like
Crookshanks, who had been staying at the Burrow for the past five years, also sounded as the cans
rolled across the floor.

“Oh! Mie! Darned cat.”

Emlyn walked over to the disaster and walked back with a shorthaired, bright red cat. He was
very frightened. His whole body shook in Emlyn’s arms. Emlyn stroked the kitten’s back soothingly,
stopping its shaking.

“She’s always scaring this poor little guy. Are you all right, Rusty?”

A small mew issued from the red cat’s mouth as he was released onto the counter.

“Part of Ophidia’s litter. Drew named them before he brought them down here. Frey’s around here
somewhere, but Mie knows not to bother him. As I was saying, if you go up the mountain a bit you’ll
find a cabin. That’s Drew’s cabin. He might be able to help. He’s found a few children lost up
there in the woods.”

“Yes, and remember that time when he’d first gotten here four years ago how he’d healed Jenni
with that hemeopithic remedy?”

“Homeopathic. The doctors never figured out what happened. He gave her that drink and after
being on the verge of death, she was just fine in less than twenty-four hours! Then when the media
got up here, he just disappeared. Didn’t even see his horse leave.”

“Came back in a month or so for supplies though.”

“Wow,” Hermione said. “He’s good.”

There was a definite reason to check this guy our—sudden healings with “homeopathic” remedies
that seem like potions, sudden disappearances, even a cat named Mie, like Harry used to call her
before he’d gone.

“Could I go up and see him?”

“Sure. I don’t know how long you’ll have to wait though. A blizzard’s going to come through
pretty soon.”

“Then I’ll go today. Now even.”

“Well,” Emlyn said, “I wouldn’t if I were you. You can only get part of the way up by vehicle.
The rest has to be traveled by foot or on horseback.”

“Then can you take me that part up, and I’ll walk the rest.”

“I can, I guess, but I wouldn’t recommend going up there now.”

“I don’t care. I need to get up there as soon as I can, and if I can get up there today, then
I’m going. I’ll walk all the way if I have to.”

“Now you are not walking up there. I’ll drive you as far as I can. I’ll direct you from there.
Maybe you can beat the storm.”

Emlyn set off to get equipment for heading up to the mountain cabin of their local miracle
worker. This Drew could be a wizard and know Harry or maybe he was just really good with natural
remedies. Either way she couldn’t risk missing a chance to find Harry and since she could get going
now, she was going to because the sooner the better.

Hermione absentmindedly petted Rusty. Mie rubbed against her leg, so she put her on the counter
and stroked both purring kittens.

Soon Emlyn had donned his winter gear and led Hermione to a snowmobile in the back, much to the
dismay of the small cats who mewed and stared longingly at her as she left. Hermione mounted the
snowmobile behind the old general store owner, and they rode off up the mountain.

“So how do you know a blizzard is coming?” Hermione asked.

“Drew was down here a few hours ago. He was earlier than usual. He told us that a blizzard was
coming, and he was stocking up for a snow in. An hour later, the news said it for the first time.
It’s a quick developing storm.”

“Wow, does he predict the weather often?”

“Not really. He’s not down here all that often. He restocks once in a while and sells excess
products he has, but that’s usually at the end of spring and the beginning of winter.”

“Oh. How much longer?”

“About five minutes.”

Those five minutes were silent. When they approached the end of the drivable trail, Emlyn
directed Hermione down a path farther up the mountain towards Drew’s mountain cabin.

She followed Emlyn’s directions and walked for what seemed like hours. It was rapidly becoming
colder, and she was beginning to go numb. A large gust of wind caused her to shield her face and
miss her footing and slip. Her head hit a large stone. She lay there for a while, unable to pick
herself up. The world was beginning to go fuzzy. Something large, black and cold and touched her
face, blowing warm air on it. Then another looming black figure stepped up. A strange noise echoed
amongst the mountain trees.

The last thing she heard before her world went entirely black was a male voice said, “What did
you find, Ken?”



3. Andrew Coleman
-----------------

At this time, I would like to address some quite understandable concerns mentioned in the
reviews. First off, something that was mentioned in a few reviews, Hermione’s love for Harry. The
common question became “If she loved him so much, why did she date Ron?” Well, in answer to that I
give you this: it was a defense mechanism. She was subconsciously protecting herself from the hurt
she felt at the loss of Harry that she dated Ron to try and rid herself from the hurt. Secondly,
Hermione’s outburst: the females reading this will know what I’m talking about and some of the
males too. This was a combination of stress and lack of sleep catching up to her from the recently
taken NEWTs and PMS (one of the most evil things in the world). I’m also happy to note that only
one person who reviewed didn’t catch the fact that ‘Mi broke the engagement. God only knows how
many people still comment on it at my other posting site. She did break her engagement to Ron,
about which even I am thrilled, and I was readily excited about the people who did notice, because
it told me that I wasn’t the one who did it wrong. I wrote it fine, and nobody noticed. Thirdly,
yes, dear sweet little ‘Mi definitely has some MAJOR apologizing to do. Next, for all of your
information, I tell not about Harry, nor will I until the proper time comes. Finally, after all
this talk, I would like to thank all of those who have reviewed. It is greatly appreciated. Thank
you all!

Runaway

Chapter 2 – Andrew Coleman

By KZerina

Hermione opened her eyes slowly. She felt warm weight over most of her body. She was in a warm
bed with clothes that were not hers on her body. She started to sit up, but a black cat pounced on
her chest, pushing her back to the bed. There he sat, cold cat-stare and all.

Soon, another cat, this one fluffy and brown, entered, followed by a tall blonde man. He looked
at her and smiled a small smile, sitting on the bed. He was apparently glad she was awake.

“All right, Vidar, you can go,” he said to the cat, which hopped off and slinked out the
door.

“Did you change my clothes?” Hermione asked indignantly.

“Yeah, why?”

“How could you? You perverted—! How could you?”

The man stood up quickly. “Well it was either I change you out of your soaking wet clothes and
save your life, or leave you in what you had and have you dead on my living room floor right now.
Which would you prefer?”

Hermione couldn’t argue. There was no doubt that she’d rather be alive in the warm bed than dead
on anyone’s living room floor any day, but he could at least have used the clothes out of her
travel pack.

“Here—sit up and put this on. It’ll compensate for the covers.”

Her rescuer threw a large, very soft jumper at her, and the brown cat that had perched herself
on Hermione’s stomach followed the man out of the room.

He was right. He’d saved her life and that was what she gave him—an ungrateful greeting.
Hopefully he would understand and forgive for what she’d done. It was very rude of her.

She slid out from under the warm comforter and put on the jumper. It was much too large for her
small form, but it was warm and comfortable. She pulled the excess fabric of the sleeves so that
her hands were exposed.

Soon, she smelled sweet aromas floating down the hall and through the bedroom door. He had to be
a good cook for anything to smell as heavenly as this did.

The man entered the room with a tray full of food. There were hot apples in melted caramel
sauce, rich hot chocolate steaming through its whipped cream topping, and more. It all smelled so
wonderful and appetizing that she almost couldn’t wait to try it. Her mouth watered in great
anticipation.

“Eat this,” he said, setting the tray over her lap. “It’ll help warm you up.”

“Thanks.”

He left again. It was as if she wasn’t welcome. He wouldn’t stay long enough to have a decent
conversation with her, even while she ate. He did come back though. When he entered, Hermione
decided to start over.

“Hey, that was rude of me to snap at you like that. I’m Hermione Granger.”

“Andrew Coleman, Drew if you want.”

“Really? The people in the town talked a lot about you. You seem to have a pretty good
reputation around here.”

“You have no idea,” he said quietly. “Hold on a minute. I’ll be right back.”

He left the cocoa mug for her, but took everything else, including the tray. He came back with a
strange something in his back pocket. He pulled it out and examined it. It was her wand. He’d found
her wand.

“So what is it?” he asked. Hermione tried to think of some excuse to tell him. “Beachwood, nine
inches….” Drew swished it around a bit. “Springy…hm…and dragon heartstring?”

“How’d you know?”

“I’m a wizard, and I’ve learned to distinguish between the feel of the cores. Each has a
different aura, yet the cores of the same type have certain similarities.”

“Wow, how long did it take you to do that?”

“It was a gradual thing over the past few years,” he answered simply. “You warm enough?”

“Yes, thank you.”

“Good. Why don’t you rest some? Is there something I can get you to do?”

“What sorts of books to you have?”

“Just about anything you could think of.”

“Do you have Hogwarts, A History? It’s my favorite book.”

Drew smiled. “Hold on a minute.”

He went away and returned with an older version of her favorite book. He handed it to her and
placed a hand on her forehead. Nodding he left her to her reading.

Hermione wasn’t quite sure what he was doing, but she heard him talking to someone and opening
and closing drawers. She sighed and opened the leather-bound cover and began to explore the pages.
Before she knew it, Drew came back, informing her that dinner was almost ready. Hermione
nodded.

“Am I eating out there?”

She’d only seen Drew’s bedroom—nowhere else. Maybe she’d get to explore the rest of the
house.

“If you want to, I guess you can. Do you want me to get you when it’s time to eat?”

“Yes, please,” she answered gratefully.

Drew nodded and left again. Hermione left the book open on the end of Drew’s bed so she could
continue reading after dinner.

Wonderful scents wafted in from the kitchen. Another beautifully prepared meal was making its
way to the table. She couldn’t help but anticipate what was coming. The smells were indecipherable
since there were so many, and they all blended together so well. She couldn’t help it. She had to
go explore. She wanted to know exactly what created those heavenly scents—and now.

Hermione wandered out of the room, clutching fists full of the long sleeves of the jumper she
was wearing. She followed her nose down a corridor that seemed to run down the center of the cabin.
At its end, there was a large room with a lit fireplace. The room was warm as the heat emanated
from the fire.

To her right and there was the dining area. A small wooden table sat with four chairs. Four was
an interesting number for a man who lived alone. Then she saw a short blur in her peripheral
vision.

She snapped her head to see the blur. It was a House-Elf. It stood at the stove cooking
dinner.

“Excuse me.”

“Not now. I’m busy.”

The Elf used pronouns. Hermione had never heard a House-Elf use pronouns or contractions. She
also didn’t wear the potato-sack clothing of the usual House-Elf. Instead she wore a long black
skirt and a long-sleeved, burgundy, wool jumper rolled up to her elbows while she shifted a pan on
its burner.

“Excuse me.”

“When you eat you may talk. Drew! Dinner in five minutes!” the Elf called to somewhere else in
the house.

Drew? She called her master by his name? That’s not the way a House-Elf would usually refer to
her master. A normal House-Elf would use Master, Sir, Mr. Andrew Coleman, or the like, but not his
nickname.

“Thanks, Berry. I’ll go get Her—never mind. What are you doing out of bed? I said I’d come and
get you.”

“I know, but I couldn’t help it. It smelled so good out here, and I wanted to explore the house
a little.”

“You could have said something. I could have shown you the place.”

“Sorry, I just—”

“It’s really okay. I’m just saying it might have been more convenient for you to have asked
me.”

Hermione looked at the ground, avoiding Drew’s gaze. The clatter of plates on the table broke
the awkward silence. Hermione looked at the table next to her. The plates were filled with more
delicious-looking food. She could smell the sweetness drifting from the food to her nose.

Drew pulled out the chair for her, and she sat down, thanking him. He raised his eyebrows at his
House-Elf as though asking her something. She shook her head and went through a door on the
farthest wall of the small rectangular kitchen. Drew shrugged and sat down at the head of the
table.

“Drew, your House-Elf doesn’t seem very ‘House-Elf-ish.’”

“Yeah, House-Elves don’t exactly have the best of lives, but my two are actually free. We
compromise over the work to be done. Since it’s winter, I do all the outside work with the animals,
and they do the inside work, like cooking and cleaning.”

“What about the clothes and the informality?”

“There’s only two of them, so it’s not that expensive to make normal clothes, and they are more
presentable that way. As for the ‘informality,’ as you put it, when you live just three in a house,
you get to know each other, and I don’t like people looking at me like that. I’m not controlling
them. They can do just about whatever they want. They even go out together sometimes.”

Hermione looked at Drew. He treated his House-Elves like he would anyone else. Finally, another
person saw her point of view on House-Elf enslavement. “You treat them like humans. It’s nice that
way. Do you pay them?”

“Not with Galleons, Sickles, and Knuts. They have a place to live, food to eat, clothes to wear.
If they need actual coinage, they ask for it. It’s not that big a deal. We all live off of it.”

Hermione smiled. He was very relaxed and open about his House-Elves. “You said you had two.
Where’s the other?”

“He’s not very comfortable with new people, so he usually stays out of the way when we have
guests.”

“Do they not eat with you?”

“Usually they do, but I think Berry is going to eat with him in the secret half of the kitchen
until we can get you back on your feet and on your way.”

“Oh, speaking of that, Emlyn told me that you might be able to help me find someone.”

“Really?” Drew replied unenthusiastically. “Who?”

“Have you ever heard of Harry Potter?”

“As in ‘The Boy Who Lived?’”

“Oh, right, you’re a wizard. Everyone in the wizarding world has heard of Harry. Well, he’s been
missing for five years.”

“Everyone knows that, too. The poor guy is almost as famous a God. Who wouldn’t know?”

“Thank you Mr. Sarcasm. I’m trying to talk here.”

Drew raised his eyebrows impatiently and looked straight into Hermione’s eyes.

“I was wondering if you’d help me find him.”

Drew remained silent and still. He seemed to be contemplating something—mulling over her request
in his head. Maybe he would help her. Hermione held her breath in anticipation. Of course he’d help
her. The entire wizarding world wanted Harry back.

“I’m sorry, but I can’t help you.”

“What?”

“I have too much to do here. I have animals to take care of and house work to be done. I don’t
have time to search the whole of Britain for one man. I can’t do it.”

“But you helped the villagers!”

“Because they’re close to home and in the woods here. It’s not like I have to neglect one job to
do another. Many times I’ll find them while pasturing the sheep.”

“So you’re not going out of your way to help save someone?”

“Not for an outsider. I do if it’s a child lost in the woods in the dead of winter. He wouldn’t
be able to survive on his own. Harry Potter disappeared five years ago. He can handle himself. If
he survived his first winter on his own, then he can survive four more of them.” Ron had said
something like that, too. Maybe they were right.

Now, Hermione could tell Drew was becoming irritated. She almost felt satisfied at her
accomplishment, but she could also tell that he was not one to irritate to the end of his nerves.
Hermione sighed and looked away from is intense, deep blue eyes. She was sick and didn’t have a way
to defend herself.

They ended up finishing dinner in silence. Neither looked at the other out of fear that they
might begin arguing again.

Berry returned and swept the plates from the table and washed them. Drew stood and traveled to a
room towards the back of the cabin. Hermione’s curiosity led her to follow him.

He turned into a room that smelled of freshly cut wood chips. She peeked around the doorframe
and saw shelves upon shelves full of carved figurines.

A large dog (a Rhodesian Ridgeback judging by the strange line of fur running up his back) was
lying in the ground, looking at her as though she were the most subordinate of anything in the
world. He acted like he was the Queen or something.

“Do you know you are bad sneak?”

Hermione gasped. Drew hadn’t even so much as looked at her out of the corners of his eyes. He
continued to stare at his hands and whatever he was doing.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to intrude. Is he going to hurt me?”

“Kosse? No. He just likes being the top of the more-than-two-legged creatures that roam the
place, and you have my bed. He likes lying there even though he’s not supposed to.” He’d said the
last part pointedly at the dog.

The dog made a whining noise and slumped his head to the floor, still looking at Hermione with
that slightly annoyed look.

Hermione looked away from Kosse and to the shelves of little figures. They were a wide variety
of subjects—winged horses, phoenixes, sphinxes, nymphs, and Muggle creatures, too. They were all so
beautiful and intricately carved. Each detail was so finely placed that the small wooden statues
looked like they could come to life any moment.

“Did you make these?” she asked, picking up a statue of a proud stag overlooking a cliff.

“Yeah, and could you not touch that one? It’s the very first good one I made. It’s kind of
special.”

“Oh, sorry.”

Hermione set it gently back in its place and moved along the shelves. She came to a set of
shelves with painted figures, probably hand painted. There was a very beautiful one of each of the
four breeds of winged horse, roaming the realms above the clouds. Each and every feather was etched
with its veins and each muscle (or lack thereof in the case of the thestral) seemed to ripple on
the horses’ bodies. The magnificent realism was almost overwhelming.

“They’re all so beautiful.”

Drew said nothing. He just carved away at his block of wood.

The next shelf smelled distinctly of cedar. Carved in the red wood were phoenixes, salamanders
and even a large Chinese Fireball. Each piece was as beautiful as the next, and eventually, she
came to where Drew was carving.

“What is that going to be?”

“A griffin. I just started it this afternoon so it’s not too far along.”

“Wow.”

Then, Hermione let out a large yawn that almost made her eyes water. She suddenly felt very
tired.

“Why don’t you get yourself to bed? Your packs are at the foot of the bed if you need anything
from them. The bathroom is across the hall from there.”

Hermione nodded. “Thanks. Goodnight.”

“’Night.”

With that, she went to Drew’s bedroom and climbed into bed. She thought about his wonderful
talent for woodcarving and drifted away into sleeping darkness.



4. Shattered Soul
-----------------

Disclaimer: I’ve been really bad about putting this in! I don’t own Harry Potter or any of the
established characters from the books. I do own this story and the characters from the village.

Runaway

Chapter 3–Shattered Soul

By KZerina

The next few days passed by rather quickly. Hermione and Drew conversed, and Drew didn’t seem so
cold-hearted, although he did sort of disappear once in a while.

One time while he was gone, she decided that she wanted to know more about who he was. Harry had
rubbed off on her too much back in school.

She began with the wardrobe. Inside she found shirts in mostly black or white, a few colored
ones. There were also a few black wizards’ robes. Apparently, even though he lived near an all
Muggle village, he visited the wizarding world and dressed appropriately when he did so. She left
the drawers inside alone, not wanting to sneak into anything too private.

Next was the closet. She slid the door open and in it were shelves, which contained nothing of
interest. What she did notice was long something wrapped in what looked like some sort of plastic.
Spiders had used it as a web making surface, showing that it hadn’t been used in while. She reached
for it and pulled it out. Opened the surrounding sheet and there in her hands sat a racing broom.
She noted that on the handle was an etched model name. It was faded, and it took her a moment to be
able to read it. It said “Firebolt.” This broom was nine years old. Maybe he had another one that
he actually used.

As she leaned the broom back where it was, something else caught her eye. A tall stack of
newspapers sat on the floor, seeming to beckon her to search their pages. She lifted the first one.
The headline read “Harry Potter’s Cloak Found!” The picture for the article showed a short, stocky
man—probably the one who found the cloak—holding up a cloak bearing the Gryffindor patch. Scribbled
on the paper was a small, quickly written message. “Uh, no. Last I checked, that was here,” it
said. What could that mean?

She picked up the next paper in the pile. It, too, had a note scrawled beside a Harry Potter
article. Each paper was the same, a note by an article about Harry. Some laughed at the page; some
made fun of the people about whom the article was written. These scribbles peaked her curiosity.
She began to think that Andrew Coleman was hiding more than just his characteristics.

Hermione piled the newspapers back where they were and closed the closet door. There was one
more place in this room she could search. She hurried over to the bedside table and opened the top
drawer. The first thing she saw was an old pair of glasses that had obviously not been used for a
while, so she took them out and left them on the bed. She pulled out some unused candles and set
them with the glasses. Next she found a wand made of a darker wood. It seemed to be holly, but
there were lots of wands that could look like that, and it could have been the stain or polish used
on it. She set it aside too, noticing two, small boxes.

She removed the first one and opened it. It contained a very old ring. The band was tarnished,
and, judging by the style, it could very well have been centuries old. A large diamond was set in
the top and, even though the band showed its age, sparkled like she’d never seen.

“Wow, he must be pretty well off not to have pawned this,” she said in awe as she set the box
aside, still open.

Then, she pulled out the second box. She opened it, expecting to see wedding bands to match the
engagement ring she’d discovered, but when she saw what it held, all she could do was stare.
Crimson and azure glistened up at her. She couldn’t believe what she was seeing. The pendant she’d
unfairly returned to Harry the night before he left.

Andrew Coleman *was* hiding more. He was hiding his identity. He was really the one she
sought. The one for whom she had been seeking for five long years. She had been staying with Harry
for the past week, and he never told her? How dare he?

She had been searching for him, and he knew it, too. She became very angry and began to fume
more and more as she stared at the necklace, but then she shifted her gaze just enough to encompass
both the necklace and the engagement ring.

She realized then that she had caused more turmoil than she had originally thought. The ring
must have been for her until she gave her unwarranted “break up.” She threw away the best man in
the world, just because she was too afraid to talk to him and fix things before he left.

What would have happened had she told him what was happening? What would have happened had she
apologized? Would he be here now, alone in the woods if she’d just talked to him?

No, probably not. They might have been happily married had she just explained how she
felt—communicated. Well, maybe it was better late than never. She was going to find him and tell
him what she felt. He deserved to know; maybe she could bring him back.

She took the pendant from its container and held it tightly in the palm her hand. She walked to
the kitchen and living room where she found him painting one of his statuettes on the kitchen
table.

He looked up and noticed the chain dangling from her clenched fist. His eyes widened slightly
before he scowled and stood up.

“Harry James Potter, what is the meaning of this?” she demanded. “You runaway and then when you
know I’ve come looking for you, you hide your identity anyway? What did you think you were doing,
Harry? Do you realize what you did by leaving? Do you realize who you affected?”

Harry just stood there, giving Hermione a cold, unwelcoming gaze. He made no reaction to her
rant. This made her angrier, but she couldn’t be angry. She found Harry, and she was simply too
happy to be angry—and she cared too much to let him go again.

Before she could stop herself, she ran over to Harry, threw her arms around his neck, and kissed
him full on the lips. She was subconsciously expecting him to kiss back—and consciously hoping he’d
kiss back, but he didn’t. He only stood there, giving her a cold stare.

She pulled away and all he was doing was looking at her with an expression that asked, “Are you
done yet?”

Hermione bit her lip as tears welled up in her eyes. Ron was right. Harry didn’t care about them
anymore. How could he? It was all her fault. If she hadn’t yelled at him, they could have been
happily married with children even, but that wasn’t how it worked. She *did* yell at him, and
now he seemed to hate everyone except his House-Elves, his animals, and the villagers.

She couldn’t help it anymore. Tears streaked down her face. Her fist clenched tighter around the
pendant that had once symbolized *them*. She wanted it to again, but it seemed as though that
would never happen. Harry wanted nothing to do with her, and that wasn’t going to change.

Hermione turned and dashed to the bedroom where she flung herself onto the bed and cried. She
couldn’t hold it back. She *showed* him how she felt, and he still rejected returning to his
proper realms—the wizarding world. That’s where he belonged. Not here near a small village that
showed no sign of witchcraft or wizardry.

Though it did make sense for him to stay there. No one would recognize him as the most famous
wizard in the world. He never did like his fame, but that didn’t give him the right to turn her
away.

He knew she came to find him. He *knew*. She *showed* him. Why did he reject her
anyway?

“Dobby, just stop! I know what you’re saying!”

Of course, the House-Elf that he wouldn’t let out had to be Dobby. Everyone knew they
disappeared together, but now Harry was yelling at Dobby. It was like they hadn’t been together for
the past five years—although it was only once. Maybe Harry was just in a very touchy mood. After
all, he was like that after she yelled at him.

She sighed and let more tears wind their way down her cheeks to the pillow. She opened her hand
and looked at the gleaming jewels there. She should never have let him go in the first place. She
had no reason to get angry with him. That was the main problem with the whole situation. There was
*no* reason that it happened. Her arguments against him were random and completely untrue. He
was *very* good at flying and had every right to love it, and his grades were pretty good, as
well. She regretted every word she’d said, and if he would listen, she would take every one
back.

But he wasn’t listening. He wasn’t even caring enough to do anything but keep her alive until he
could get her out of his house, which, depending on the weather, could be a while.

However, the more she thought, the better more snow sounded. If it continued to snow, then she
would have a longer time to convince him that he should come back, but what if he still didn’t
listen? What if he just ignored her completely? What if he didn’t go anywhere near her? What then?
She couldn’t convince him to come back if he ignored her.

Her heart sank even lower than it had before. She would never see him again if she couldn’t make
him see that he should return to the wizarding world. A fresh flood of tears attacked her eyes.

She hadn’t moved the stuff of the bed before lying there. She looked down and picked up the
ring. All she could do was stare and think about what could have been. He had to have had it before
he left since he’d have no reason to have it afterward if he’d been living like this.

Hermione flinched at a prod on her arm. She looked up to see two large, green eyes staring at
her.

“Dobby is sorry to have scared you. Dobby just wants to talk.”

Hermione sniffed and nodded at him. Dobby walked over to the wardrobe and pulled out a box of
tissues, setting them on the bed beside Hermione’s head. Then he proceeded to put the objects she
had pulled out of the drawer back, except the necklace that she clutched so tightly.

“Would you like a glass of water?”

Hermione turned her puffy, bloodshot eyes to Dobby and nodded. Dobby snapped his fingers and
brought a pitcher and glass to the room as Hermione slowly sat up. She quietly sipped the clear
liquid from the cup.

“Are you all right?” asked Dobby concernedly.

“Not really,” she rejoined truthfully. “When did you learn to speak so well?”

“Sometimes I can’t help it and revert to the old way, but Harry made me learn.”

“Oh.”

“I want to apologize in advance for Berry. She will not be happy when she finds out you were the
one who broke Harry’s heart, but Dobby knows better. Dobby knows that it wasn’t just his heart that
was broken. It was his spirit, too.”

Hermione stared as yet another batch of tears threatened to tumble down in despair.

“Dobby hopes that Hermione can piece his puzzle back together so he will be the better Harry
again. Good luck.”

Hermione suddenly found it harder to breathe. As Dobby left, the tears dropped from her eyes and
onto the shimmering amulet that was now in her lap. She concentrated all her energy into stopping
the salty drops from trailing down her cheeks.

She’d totally shattered him, like taking a hammer to a mirror, bad luck and all. Unfortunately,
fixing Harry wasn’t as easy as a *reparo* spell. It would be so much more difficult than that.
He would be hard to convince since he was at least as stubborn as she, if not more.

She sighed and took another sip of water as she wiped the tears from her eyes. Maybe if she
slept on it she could come up with something. She nodded to convince herself that it would
work.

She picked up the amulet and ever so gently kissed it. That would have to do if she couldn’t
kiss the one—she now realized—she loved. Then she slid under the covers and clasped the pendant
close to her heart as she drifted off to sleep.

Oh, and to Fenriswolf, no…he really doesn’t know who he is, and he needs help to find it. He
knows, but he doesn’t I guess I should say.



5. Failure
----------

A/N: Sorry about this. -_- I’ve been lazy…and didn’t post the chapter. Thanks to those who
reminded me. I need to get on the ball with chapter 9… *dodges the tomatoes that fly at her when
the readers find out that she’s that far on it* Sheesh….. Fine…just read…I’ll shut up.

Runaway

Chapter 4-Failure

By KZerina

The next morning started her Operation “Get Harry Back.” She would do everything she could until
the last fleeting moment before he kicked her out. She changed from the clothes she’d in which
fallen asleep and put on fresh ones for a fresh start with Harry.

A strange boost of confidence expedited her journey to the kitchen where smells of greasy bacon
and eggs drifted to her nostrils. Surely, if he wasn’t there already, Harry would be there sooner
or later, and she would be waiting for him.

As it turned out, Harry was already sitting at the table, reading the Daily Prophet. She pulled
out a chair and sat down, determined to get him to at least look at her.

“Why did you leave?” she asked.

Harry pushed down the top of the paper and menacingly glared over it. “You told me to go away,”
he growled.

“But I never said—”

Harry cut her off by snapping the paper back into its original position in a finalizing way.

Hermione snorted and glared at the opposite side of the table at the opened newspaper with a
mule-headed man on the other side.

While she was busy glaring at the back of the paper, Berry came by and slammed her plate of eggs
and bacon onto the table in front of her. Hermione jumped, and Harry flipped down the paper to see
what it was. After seeing it was only Berry, he put the paper back. This time she noticed the
headline: “Harry Potter Sighted in the Bahamas!” Now, she knew that would *never* happen, even
if she hadn’t known that Harry was sitting right across from her.

Also, like the other newspapers she’d found in his closet, words were scribbled over the
article—“I’m snowed in on a mountain in *Wales*” and some other this that were too small and
scratchy for her to read.

Harry folded the paper neatly and set it on the table beside him as his House-Elf set his food
in front of him. He nodded at her, and she filled two more plates.

Dobby appeared beside her and hissed in her ear, “If you can’t be nice, then don’t be here.”

“Leave her be, Dobby,” Harry ordered. “Just don’t break the dishes.”

“I can fix the broken dishes,” Berry said somewhat snobbily and huffed off into the House-Elf
section of the cabin to eat with Dobby.

Harry shook his head at Berry as she left and proceeded to eat his breakfast in silence.
Hermione stared at him. If he knew, he showed no sign. She sighed and ate her eggs slowly, not sure
of how to approach him next.

Talking to him directly didn’t do anything. Unless…what if she asked the wrong questions or said
the wrong things? What should she ask then?

“Harry, why here? The Bahamas are a nice place.”

All he did was glare at her and clear his plate. With another glare he turned down the hall and
disappeared. Hermione growled at his sullen disposition. She pounded her fist on the table in
frustration. Harry was so…so…irking!!

She was about to take her plate to the sink to wash, but Berry whisked it away in the blink of
an eye. Dobby was right. Berry was very agitated at her. Berry probably really cared for Harry and
didn’t want anything to happen to him—physically or emotionally.

Hermione knew Berry was one not to anger further, lest she become violent.

Hermione sighed and returned to Harry’s bedroom. She dug through her knapsack and pulled out a
roll of parchment, a slightly battered quill, and a small pot of black ink. She unfurled the crisp
parchment and began to scribble.

She outlined ways she could get Harry to come back. First, she wrote “talk to him” with
sub-points “hex him” and “silence him.” That would at least make sure he listened to what she had
to say. Next she scribbled, “Listen to what he has to say.” Maybe she could get some information as
to what his reasoning was as to why he felt he was in the right in leaving—see his point of view.
That would be good, but again, she’d have to get him to stay in one place. Then, she scripted
“pleasantries”—such as “good morning” or asking, “how are you?” Maybe small things would work.

She could think of only one more thing…. It would be only a last resort. “Seduce him,” she wrote
quickly and sloppily.

She didn’t want to have to do that just to make him come back. She only wanted to do anything
like that if he consented to it.

Hermione sighed and stared at her pathetic list. What were the chances they’d work, especially
the last one? First, though, she had to find him. He’d disappeared in his own house! That was very
frustrating. She’d just have to wait.

She then decided that she’d read until she heard noises outside the bedroom. She looked to the
bedside table and picked up the book that lay there. She’d borrowed it from Harry earlier in her
stay and had been in the process of reading it.

After a while, sounds of talking flowed from down the hall. Then Dobby came in carrying a tray
with a sandwich and a banana.

“Here is your lunch,” he said, handing her the food. “No luck with Harry yet?”

“No, Dobby. I have some plans, but they won’t work if he’s not here.”

“I can’t really help. I’ve done what I can, but that is not much. I am sorry I can’t be more
help.”

“Do you know where he is?”

“He is one of two places, but he has shut Dobby and Berry out. He wants time to spend alone. He
does not let us interfere.”

“Oh. We just have to wait until he comes back then, I guess,” sighed Hermione, gloomily.
“Thanks, Dobby.”

Dobby nodded and left Hermione to her sandwich, which she had to admit, was quite good. Dobby
timely reappeared as she put the last bit of banana in her mouth. He carried the tray and peeled
out of the room and did not return.

She hadn’t heard anything but Dobby and Berry, meaning Harry had not yet returned from where
ever he was. He needed to come back soon. He should be hungry for lunch.

He did not come back, however. He stayed where he was, doing whatever he was doing. Hermione was
becoming slightly impatient. She proceeded to hope she could hold her tongue when she was finally
able to talk to Harry. She would just continue to read until it was possible for a
conversation.

That time didn’t come until dinner. She would try after they ate, but that didn’t happen since
he ate and disappeared again. This was becoming quite exasperating. There was always a scowl on his
face. He never talked to her, except maybe a few words, and he would always disappear when she
wanted to say something.

Hermione took deep breaths to calm herself, so she didn’t attack something. Finally she went
back to the bedroom and read until darkness fell through the bedroom window. She changed for bed
and crawled under the covers and fell into a deep slumber.

The next couple of days were the same as the previous. Harry didn’t have lunch and left after
dinner.

Later in the week though, Harry showed her something she’d never seen before.

She was on her way out to dinner early. Berry was complaining loudly about Hermione without
realizing she could be heard. Berry shocked Hermione with what she had to say—so much so that
Hermione slid to the to floor and leaned against that wall, staring. No one had ever berated her so
much at one time, not even Draco Malfoy.

Suddenly a butcher knife flew across the room straight at Dobby’s face. Dobby recoiled and
clenched his eyes tight waiting to accept the hit, but the blade stopped just inches in front of
his face.

“Berry, be careful where you fling the cutlery. You may be able to fix plates, but you cannot
fix Dobby’s head.”

It was Harry. His hand was outstretched and aimed at the knife. He twisted his hand slightly,
and the knife hovered lightly back to Berry.

Harry stepped over Hermione and into the kitchen as though nothing unusual had happened. He had
just done highly controlled wandless magic, and he treated it like nothing.

That day after dinner, Hermione was in too much shock at what Harry had done that she couldn’t
get herself to even distract him from his vanishing ways.

That night was occupied by reflection on what had happened—Harry’s new ability. Where had it
come from? How did he control it so well? Was it gradual? Did he mess up when he was learning?
Multitudes of questions hit her and eventually depleted her energy supply, forcing her to go to
sleep.

The next day found her exploring the white realms out the window. The snowfall had lessened, and
the snow was packing itself. She knew she would be leaving soon. She had a couple of days at the
most.

This suspicion was confirmed that night at dinner.

“Pack up tonight,” Harry ordered. “You leave tomorrow after lunch. I’ll take you to the village,
but you have to find your own way after that.”

Hermione let that sink in a bit before replying.

“Fine, but tonight you have to talk,” she rejoined stubbornly. “You don’t talk; I don’t
pack.”

“There’s nothing to talk about.”

“Ah, but I argue the opposite. We have much to discuss Harry, and if you don’t do it tonight, we
don’t leave as early as you want tomorrow, because I’m not leaving until we have our
discussion.”

“Fine.”

Hermione nodded once, and after they finished eating, Harry cleared the table and went to the
sitting room. He gestured to a chair and flopped on the couch.

“Talk.”

“I don’t quite understand. What are the exact reasons you left?”

“Everyone was using me or pretending to care because of someone else. Sirius was the only one
who really cared,” he explained. “That and you basically told me to go away.”

“But I didn’t mean any of it! I don’t know what happened….”

*“…and I wouldn’t be happier if I never see you again.”*

She remembered her last words before storming out of the dormitory that night five years ago.
She knew she didn’t mean it. She didn’t know *what* she meant, but it wasn’t that.

“Okay, fine. I guess I did tell you to go away,” she conceded. “Now this is more for you to
talk, not me, so go.”

“Well, you asked ‘why here?’ It’s secluded. No one in that town has ever heard of ‘The Boy Who
Lived.’ They appreciate me and what I do for them. No one back there really cared, except Sirius,
Mum, and Dad, but they’re all dead.

“No one was supposed to be able to find me here.” He shot a furious glare her way.

“Now, this isn’t going anywhere. What was its point?”

Hermione stood up and sat on the floor by Harry’s feet. Harry scowled at her when she touched
his knee.

“Harry, don’t you understand? I’m trying to fix what I did.” Tears started to form around her
eyes, blurring her vision. “I want you back. We all do.”

Harry stood up as fast as she’d ever seen him move, wrenching his knee from her grasp.

“Well, I’m sorry,” he said stiffly. “I like my life here, and I don’t want to go back.”

“But Harry—”

“No.” Hermione was silent. Her mouth had suddenly gone very dry. “Oh look—Hermione Ganger at a
loss for words. Normally you’re very verbose. Now, we aren’t going to discuss this anymore. Good.
Night.”

His tone was so quiet it was terrifying. The tears now trailed down her face. She couldn’t make
herself follow him and make him talk. He was never going to go with her. That was final. Harry made
it so.

He’d disappeared again. She doubted he’d come back tonight unless he knew she was asleep, ad
even then it was highly unlikely that he’d do that for fear of waking her up.

In this case, she’d better do as she was told and pack to go in the morning. That was the only
thing she could do now. She had done her best, and Harry had out-stubborned her. She’d hoped that
her stubbornness would be greater than his, but she was unfortunately wrong. He’d be here and happy
for the rest of his life.

So, with that, she accepted the defeat she felt more than she ever thought she would. It was
heavy. Everyone was counting on her to bring him back, and she’d failed them all. How could she go
back and face them?

She’d think about that on her way out of town before she Apparated back to the Burrow. She’d
figure out what she’d tell them then. She couldn’t think about it now. It hurt too much, adding to
what she had already.

She stood up and stumbled to the bedroom, oblivious to anything around her as she went. She
barely remembered putting anything in her knapsack or climbing into bed where she tossed and
turned, finally falling asleep after several hours of restlessness.

When she woke up, she didn’t feel like she’d gotten any sleep at all. She was tired and could
hardly walk straight as she traversed to the kitchen where Harry set breakfast in front of her. He
didn’t look at her. His gaze merely passed over her when they could possibly come to rest on
her.

When he ate, he looked only at his food. He then stood up and disappeared down the hall. She
still hadn’t figured out where he went, but that didn’t matter anymore. She was leaving, never to
see the one she loved again.

After a few minutes, Harry returned. He made sure she was packed, but that was all he said to
her until it was time to leave, and he still hadn’t looked at her. It was the least he could do
before she left.

When she cleared her dishes, she returned to the bedroom and packed the remaining things, such
as her nightgown and toothbrush. Sighing, she put her bag by the door between the kitchen and
living room to be taken with them when they left.

Harry met her in the living room and led her out to his stable. Inside she saw a coop of
chickens a few empty pens and three horse stalls, only one of which was used. An Aethonian stood in
full tack, waiting to be led out and mounted for riding into town.

Harry opened the stall door and took his horse by the reins, leading him out of his stall. The
horse nudged his long muzzle against Harry’s face affectionately, making Hermione feel more
dejected as she watched.

Harry took Hermione’s pack and carefully balanced it over the horse’s flanks. Then he led the
horse outside where he mounted and helped Hermione climb up after him.

Clicking his tongue, Harry informed the horse to move forward. So their journey down the
mountain started. Harry had placed her in front of himself and pulled her backwards as they went
down hill to help the horse’s decent.

They only sound heard on the trip down was the sound of the Aethonian’s hooves in the snow, and
soon enough their silent trip came to an end as they approached the village.

Hermione sighed and leaned back against Harry. She could feel his hot breath on her face. He
hadn’t moved away form her. At least he let her revel in what she could before he released her.

The townspeople gathered on the side of the road and in the windows of the buildings. Just
great, now there were more people to see her dumped in the street. Maybe it would put a damper on
what they thought about their precious “Andrew Coleman.”

Harry held out his hand to help her off the winged horse. When she was firmly on the ground, he
handed her the pack from behind him.

Tears now rimmed her eyes as she turned from Harry. A cold wind chilled her face. She couldn’t
believe she was leaving him behind.

Harry hadn’t moved his horse when she looked back over her shoulder for one last look. He wasn’t
scowling. He actually looked contemplative, like he wasn’t quite sure what to do now that she was
gone.

She turned back before it became even more difficult, and just as she reached the end of the
flat terrain she heard something quite unexpected.

“’Mi, wait!”

She stopped dead in her tracks. He’d just called her by the nickname he’d used when they were
still at school and dating. She swallowed hard and turned around slowly. Harry’s face was red,
though she wasn’t quite sure if he was embarrassed or just, cold, windblown, and chafed.

He urged his mount into a trot. She watched him apprehensively as he came toward her. She wasn’t
quite sure exactly what he was doing.

He stopped beside her and looked down, a small smile softening his face.

“Would you like a lift?” he asked nonchalantly.

She turned her face up to him more as her eyes grew wide, but she remained silent. He apparently
took that for a ‘yes’ since he reached down and lifted her to the horse’s back.

Then, not to her disappointment, he leaned down and oh so delicately pressed his lips to hers.
It was like nothing she’d felt before. The only thing that even came close was the first kiss
they’d shared back in sixth year.

When they parted, the warm cloud from his breath surrounded her face, and she looked up into his
eyes. They were no longer filled with anger, but with affection.

Her senses returned, and she could hear cheering and clapping around her. The people were glad
for them.

“That’s what you wanted wasn’t it?” Harry asked.

Hermione nodded.

He kissed her again and said, “Come on, let’s go.”

He helped her swing her leg over the horse’s shoulders and, as she melted back into him,
encouraged it to move back towards the cabin.



6. Restoration
--------------

Runaway

Chapter 5-Restoration

By KZerina

Before she knew it, they’d arrived back at the cabin. She must have been reveling too much in
Harry’s closeness. He’d lifted her from his chest and held out his hand to let her of the
Aethonian’s back, then dismounting behind her.

She sighed and looked up at him, feeling a little heat flow into her cheeks. Harry smiled back
and motioned for her to enter the barn. Hermione followed this gesture and walked inside.

The barn walls blocked the bitter cold, mountain wind from reaching her chafed face. It was
almost warm in its own strange way.

Harry followed her in with his mount, but before he put the stallion away, he stopped by her and
began to lean down. Suddenly a burst of white feathers attacked Hermione’s face. She covered it and
ducked away.

“Hedwig! What are you doing? Did you get a hold of some locoweed or something?” He paused. “Have
you been in my potions stores?” he accused.

The snowy owl landed on a stall wall and fluffed her feathers angrily. She hooted her
disapproval of being accused.

“What is with you?”

Hedwig turned her head and glared at Hermione, then turned and glowered at Harry.

“Go up there, and don’t come down until you cool off. I might have something for you for deliver
then,” Harry said coolly. Hedwig perked up a bit before glaring at Hermione again. “If you don’t,
I’ll just have to send it with Artemis.”

At the sound of the name, a pair of golden eyes glinted from the rafters, and a hoot followed.
Hermione could barely make out the shape of the rest of the Eagle owl in the darkness of the
rafters.

“Not yet, girl. Later.”

Another hoot and the eyes disappeared.

“See, Hedwig? She’s rational. Now go.”

Hedwig hooted indignantly and soared away to the rafters well out of sight. Harry sighed and
rolled his eyes. “Over-protective owl,” he mumbled. “Well maybe we should wait until we get back in
the house before we do that again lest loony owl return for a second round.”

Both he and Hermione smiled while Hedwig hooted her disapproval.

“Yes, I know you heard that,” Harry shouted. “Now live with it.”

Then, a large white dog appeared, breath rising from its nostrils.

“Leo? What are you doing?” The dog looked outside. “Another storm?”

The dog looked at him and blinked. “Ken! Morg! Come on! We’ve got to help Leona bring in the
sheep!”

Two forms shot past and went out with the white dog. Harry turned to her and handed her the
horse’s reins. “Would you mind? Just take him to his stall, un-tack him, and brush him down a
bit.”

Hermione nodded and took the reins. She led him to the stall where a brass plate was screwed to
the door. ‘Sleipnir’ it said. She looked at it curiously for a moment before continuing her
task.

The sound of many hooves caught Hermione’s attention, and she turned around. The sheep were
coming in rather loudly.

“Ken, Morg, separate the goats and the sheep.”

A couple of barks sounded, and the two dogs began to move swiftly through the herd, isolating
the goats.

Hermione found the way the dogs listened and worked together fascinating and hadn’t taken care
of Sleipnir. The horse clicked his teeth in her ear, reminding her of her responsibility. She
turned to him and smiled.

“Sorry,” she said as she rubbed his muzzle.

Sleipnir burred in her ear and nudged her shoulder. He shifted the bit in his mouth and looked
back at the saddle set on his back.

Hermione nodded and reached behind Sleipnir’s ears and pulled off the bridle while the horse
spat out the bit. After hanging the bridle over the wall, she moved to Sleipnir’s side and
unbuckled the girth-strap releasing the saddle from the Aethonian’s back. She lifted it and took it
and the bridle to the tack room near the end of the barn.

Inside she found where to put the tack. Next to the pegs sat a basket with a variety of brushes.
Hermione picked out a couple and trod back to the stall.

Harry was now levitating a lamb into the indoor sheep pen. Ken and Morg had missed one in the
separation of sheep and goats. She giggled at his antics as he talked to the dogs jokingly.

Then she returned to Sleipnir and brushed him down while the Aethonian munched on the hay in his
hayrack.

Finally, her chore done and all the animals in their proper places, she headed for the barn door
with Harry behind her. She put her hand on the handle to open it when Harry put his hand on hers,
holding her back. He smiled and walked forward—through the door.

Hermione raised her eyebrows in surprise and followed suit, expecting to be outside. Instead,
she found herself at the end of the hallway through the center of the house.

She looked around and looked at Harry. “Is that how you disappeared?” she asked, the realization
sinking in.

Harry nodded. “I was in the barn all the time. I slept out there with the dogs. Between them and
the hay in their crib, it was actually quite warm.”

Hermione was appalled. Harry slept out in the barn with the animals while she had his bed. “You
didn’t have to do that. I could have slept on the couch.”

“Think about it, Hermione. We weren’t exactly on speaking terms. It was fine,” he smiled.

Harry slipped off his cloak and hung it on a rack in his wardrobe. He motioned for her to hand
him hers so he could hang it as well.

He stepped out of the room and traveled to the sitting room where he peeked out the window.
“Looks like Leo was right,” Harry observed. “Look at the clouds that are forming out there. Smart
dog, Leo.”

Hermione sat on the couch unsure of what to do. He had changed his attitude toward her so
quickly it was uncanny. No one made a decision like that in just seconds. Love? It just didn’t work
that way—even with Harry Potter, who at the moment seemed to enjoy watching the clouds shift and
churn.

Slowly he moved his gaze from the clouds and sat on the couch next to her with a sigh.

“I suppose you want to know about this sudden change?” Harry inquired, almost reading her
mind.

She nodded and shifted into a more comfortable position so she could listen more easily and let
him know he had her attention.

“Well, you can thank Dobby for getting the ball rolling. After you figured me out and told me,
he tried to talk me into not moving again—to talk to you and go back to the wizarding world,” Harry
chuckled. “He claimed he knew I wanted to, and, I guess, he was right, though at the time I sure
didn’t think so.

“Then, all that week we were snowed in, the repressed part of me that knew where I belonged
began to fight its way free. I thought about every second I could. When I seemed extremely angry
with you with my glaring and little to no talking, I wasn’t exactly in a talkative mood. I was
brooding and fighting within myself whether to stay with you or not.

“At the last fleeting second, there in the village, I realized that if I didn’t decide now, I
may never have a chance to again. So I did and here we are….”

Harry smiled and looked at her. Apparently neither of them was sure what to do next, and an
awkward silence ensued.

Still unsure what her next move should be, Hermione slid into the space right next to Harry and
leaned her head on his shoulder. She looked up at him and looked into his currently deep blue eyes
and the platinum blonde hair draped in front of them. She reached one hand up and started fiddling
with a few strands, recognizing the absence of his scar as well.

She was kind of disappointed. She liked the unusual contrast of green and black. At least his
hair still stuck out all over the place. He never could control it, no matter how hard he
tried.

Harry must have noticed a slightly saddened expression on her face, though she tried to hide it,
since he asked what was wrong.

“I just like the old you better,” she replied. “Blonde and blue is too normal for you.”

“That was the point.”

“I understand the disguise, but since everyone in the house knows it’s you, do you think you
could put it back the way it was five years ago…before our mishap?”

Harry put on a humorous contemplative expression and, tilting her chin up, kissed her. She
closed her eyes and reveled in the moment. When they released and her eyes opened, she was looking
into the familiar bright green eyes of her best friend. Her eyes lit up, and she threw her arms
around Harry’s neck, hugging him tightly. Harry relaxed back into the couch and wrapped his arms
comfortably around her waist.

Hermione could feel his breath on her neck. Every muscle in her body relaxed, and she curled up
in his lap. They had been that way for what seemed like only a minute when Berry came stomping into
the room.

She looked absolutely furious. Hermione almost expected to see huge billowing clouds of steam
erupt from her ears, and she almost instinctively recoiled back into Harry’s protective grip.

“Berry, it’s fine. She’s not what I made you think,” Harry explained while Berry continued to
fume. “Berry, you stop that this instant. She will be welcome here whenever she wants, for however
long she wants. You will learn to live with her.”

It seemed as though nothing Harry said would calm her down. Then he said his next sentence.

“Berry, I love her and there’s nothing you can do about it.”

That was the last thing she expected him to say. Apparently, the House-Elf didn’t expect it
either since her large eyes seemed even larger as they widened in shock at the words that escaped
Harry’s mouth. Hermione looked at Harry who stared intently at Berry as if daring her to contradict
him.

She didn’t. She seemed almost petrified. Although in the background, she noticed Dobby doing a
strange jig. He must have liked the words.

“Now go,” Harry said in a finalizing way.

Berry blinked a couple of times before turning away, awestruck at Harry’s sudden change of
attitude.

Harry watched her trudge away. Then his expression changed to confusion as he noticed Dobby, who
scooted away quickly.

“That was…random,” Hermione commented.

“No…that was Dobby. Random and strange are normal for him, though I am starting to break some of
those habits,” he said before turning back to Hermione and smiling.

She smiled back and snuggled up against him, sighing contentedly. She knew that she’d found
where she belonged, and it didn’t matter where she was, as long as she was with Harry.

He seemed to understand that since he held her tighter and set his head on her shoulder so close
that his cheek brushed hers. She felt a shiver roll down her spine from his close proximity. She
couldn’t help it. It just happened that way, and he always seemed to know.

“What do you want for dinner?” Harry asked suddenly.

“What?”

“It’s about time to start cooking dinner. What would you like?”

Hermione had been taken aback by the fact that he asked a question. It took her a minute to
clear her brain completely of her revelry in order to answer his question coherently.

“I don’t know what you’ve got.”

“Pork…chicken…maybe beef.”

Hermione thought for a moment. “Pork.”

Harry nodded and, kissing her cheek, went to the kitchen to cook. Hermione reclined and watched
him move between burners and the oven. The succulent aromas that filled the cabin were so alluring.
She walked over and peered at the food around Harry who put a green bean on a fork for her to eat.
He smiled and checked the meat’s progress.

He took all the food off the burners or out of the oven and put them in serving dishes. He set
them on the table and magically set it. He pulled out a chair for her in which she politely sat,
and he seated himself beside her offering her the food. Hermione smiled and served herself, handing
it to Harry when she was finished.

They ate in silence even now, but it was different somehow. It wasn’t awkward like it had been
over the past week when they were being …antisocial. It was more like reveling in the presence of
the other. When she finished, she leaned her head on Harry’s shoulder. Harry wrapped his arm around
her shoulder in return while finishing the last few bites.

“Sure you don’t want any more?” he asked.

Hermione nodded, and Harry cleared the table. He went to the counter and wrapped up the
remaining food, placing it in the refrigerator.

Then Harry turned to her. “Why don’t you go sit on the couch. I’ll be right back.”

Hermione nodded and sat on the couch as Harry asked. When he returned he sat next to her.

“Close your eyes and turn away from me.”

She was confused, but did as he requested. After a few minutes of complete silence, she felt
something fall around her neck. She wanted to look, but she waited for Harry to give an “okay.”

He kissed her cheek, and she opened her eyes. She reached up and grabbed hold of whatever was
now around her neck. Then she looked down at it. Rubies and sapphires gleamed up at her. It was the
pendant she’d thrown. A tear dropped to her hand. She whipped around and hugged Harry so fiercely
that she knocked him over backwards onto the couch.

He didn’t seem to mind though. He wrapped his arms tightly around her waist and pressed his
cheek to hers. Now everything was going to be just fine. They were together again, and he had
definately forgiven her.

“I missed you, ‘Mi. Maybe I didn’t always know it, but I did.”

Hermione opened her eyes and looked out the window. It was dark and snowy. This reminded her of
the sleeping arrangements.

“Harry, I’ll sleep on the couch tonight.”

He looked back at her. “It’s not all that comfortable. If you want the bed, you—”

“No, I’ve had the bed the entire time I’ve been here. It’s *your* bed; *you* should be
able to sleep in it instead of your guest.”

“You’re sure?”

Hermione nodded decidedly and shivered.

“Cold?” Harry asked, detecting the movement.

Hermione nodded. Harry sat up and led her to the floor in front of the fire. They sat down and
Harry, with his arms around her waist, lay down with her closer to the fire. It was very
comfortable and warm, so much so that she fell asleep there in Harry’s arms.

***

She woke up uncomfortable on the couch. Harry must have put her there when he went to bed. She
smiled. He had honored her request even though she was asleep.

So, she rolled over and closed her eyes, but she couldn’t get back to sleep. She tried for at
least half an hour. She didn’t want to bother Harry, but she couldn’t avoid it.

She got up and walked to Harry’s bedroom and knocked on the door. There was no answer so she
slowly opened it. She saw him lying asleep in his bed. Kosse lay at the foot of the bed. He looked
at her and went back to sleep.

Hermione walked over to Harry and prodded him, calling his name, trying to wake him up, but he
didn’t budge. She wasn’t sure she should do what she was about to do, but she did it anyway. She
climbed into the bed next to him.

Suddenly, Harry began to push her.

“Kosse, get off the bed.”

Hermione looked at him strangely, and Kosse made a strange noise and lifted his head above the
mattress.

“Ifyoudown, who—whatyoudoinginbed?” He looked at her and rolled back over. “Ehm…g’night.”

“Is it okay?”

She was answered with a small snore. Then Harry shifted and stopped. With that, the rhythmic
breathing of sleep overtook him, so she slid under the covers and fell asleep herself.



7. Going Back?
--------------

Runaway

Chapter 6: Going Back?

By KZerina

When Hermione woke up, she was very warm and a pair of large, dark eyes was staring her in the
face. She jerked her head back and hit something quite solid. A loud clunk and painful groan
followed soon after. She looked behind her, and Harry was clutching his nose and the back of his
head. She figured out two things: why she was warm and what she hit.

“What hit me?” Harry groaned. “Who hit me?” He looked straight at her. “What are you doing in my
bed? Last night you insisted on sleeping on the couch.”

“You don’t remember? I came in last night. I couldn’t get to sleep, so I came in here. You fell
back asleep when I asked if it was all right, so I stayed.”

With one hand gently massaging the back of his head and the other making sure his nose wasn’t
bleeding, Harry looked at her with a confused look. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Really?” Hermione tried to keep from laughing. “Nothing?”

Harry shook his head slightly and grimaced, clutching the back of his head once more. Hermione
frowned at him and moved in to take a look at his head, but he flinched back when she touched
it.

“Oh don’t be such a baby,” she scolded.

“Well, then let me slam my head into your face and then into that wall,” Harry retorted. “Then
see if you still call me a baby.”

Hermione sat back where she’d woken up. She leaned forward and kissed his nose then the lump on
his head. “Sorry,” she whispered and kissed his lips. She pulled him backward until her head hit
something hard. She jerked forward and held her head.

“Now we’re even,” Harry murmured in her ear just before kissing her lightly on the cheek. Then
he shifted her so they were lying as they had before they had been so rudely awakened.

Harry’s breath ran down her neck and caused a delightful shiver to roll down her spine. She
shifted so she could go back to sleep instead of shivering at every breath.

Harry drifted away before she did, but she followed his path soon after, though she never did
quite get to sleep.

Suddenly, at the sound of a loud bark, two large “poles” landed on her body, knocking the wind
form her lungs. Harry had been hit too, judging by the sound he made as he pulled away from
her.

“Kosse, get out!!” he yelled, slightly hoarse. “Dumb dog…. What is this beat up on Harry
day?”

Harry groaned and reached over her shoulder, groping for something on the nightstand. His elbow
was prodding the same pace on her arm, so she rolled on her back and his arm moved with her,
landing across her chest instead. She was pretty sure he didn’t realize what he was doing—not that
it was a problem.

It was then that she noticed yet another surprise from Harry. There was something strange on his
upper arm. It was dark with red and yellow fill.

“Wand,” Harry said as the object flew to his hand. “Wait, I don’t need this…. What was I
thinking?” He pointed his hand at the door and was about to close it when Dobby stepped through
it.

“What do you want, Dobby?”

“Dob—I was just coming to remind you that there are animals that need to be taken care of
outside. If you want, sir, Dobby can do it if he borrows one of Harry Potter’s cloaks and
scarves.”

“What about your feet, Dobby?” Harry asked.

“Dob—I have many socks. I will wear them.”

“Then they would be all wet and dirty,” Hermione added. “That would defeat the purpose of
wearing them, in the first place.”

“Just go cook, Dobby. I’ll be up in a few minutes.”

“All right. Um…what did Kosse do?”

“Something stupid,” grumbled Harry.

Dobby took that as an answer and left. Now she could inquire about the strange image on Harry’s
arm. She turned to him and examined his arm. It was some sort of phoenix.

“What’s this?” she asked, running her finger across some of the black lines.

“A phoenix,” he replied simply.

Hermione sighed. “I meant in a more general aspect. I figured out it was a phoenix.”

“Oh, in that case it’s a tattoo. I’ve got a griffin on my left shoulder.”

He flipped to his stomach and showed her. It was certainly a griffin in the same place on his
other arm. She’d never expected this. Harry? Get tattoos?

“They’re magical, so it’s not ink in my skin by injection. They’re safer and more easily removed
if necessary.”

Hermione smiled and kissed his cheek before climbing out of bed. She grabbed her knapsack from
the corner of the room and went to the door.

“I’ll let you have privacy to change. I’m going to change in the bathroom,” she said.

Harry nodded, smiling, and Hermione left to do so.

She returned to the room, and the door was open. Harry was donning thick boots and a heavy
cloak. He stood up and met her with a hug that she returned.

“You’re going out to take care of the animals, right?”

Harry nodded. “Why?”

“I’d like to help,” she replied. “If I’m going to be living here for a while, then I might as
well learn how to work the place, correct?”

Harry shrugged and tossed her cloak to her.

He led her out into the barn and took her to the tack room. He dug out a bunch of bowls from
cabinets and set them on the counter. “Here on the wall is what each dog gets. The food is
underneath, and everything is marked. They’ll wait patiently until you’re done. Just put then
outside the door. They know what to do, and they’re good at it,” he smirked. “Come get me when
you’re done.”

Hermione nodded and Harry left. She examined the list tacked to the wall. Each dog got a
different mixture of foods. Harry must have known *exactly* what each dog needed for the job
he or she did. She doled out the food into each bowl and set them on the floor outside the tack
room door. The dogs were sitting by their pen, waiting for something.

“You have to whistle for them,” came Harry’s voice from somewhere, so she whistled and the dogs
still sat there.

“No,” Harry said, standing up in Sleipnir’s stall. “Like this.” He put his thumb and index
finger into the sides of his mouth and a loud whistle sounded through the barn. The dogs charged
and began to eat with unbelievable speed.

“They are good at it, aren’t they?” Hermione said as she walked over to Harry and the horse.
“What now?”

“Over there, by the door, is a chicken coop. Get eggs from under the chickens. Just stick your
hand underneath and get it. They don’t usually care any.”

She nodded. Chickens were very docile birds, especially when used for their eggs like Harry’s
were, so she went to the coop and found a couple of baskets hanging on the wall. She picked one and
began gathering the eggs.

At first, putting her hand underneath the chicken was quite awkward, but then after a few times,
she was able to do so without hesitation.

After she’d finally gotten he hang of removing eggs from under the birds, one of them decided to
bite her. She almost dropped the eggs she’d already gathered and squeaked. A few seconds later,
Harry appeared in the doorway.

“What happened?”

“That chicken bit me,” she replied slightly angered.

Harry went over and picked up that particular chicken. It snapped at him, and he flicked its
beak and took it out of the coop, muttering angry words at it. He disappeared into the house with
it and returned without it, going back to the goats without another word.

She turned back and picked up the rest of the eggs and carried them inside. When she returned,
Harry was waiting for her just inside the door.

“Would you like to help feed the kids?”

Hermione stopped. “You’ve got kids?”

Harry looked confused and nodded.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” This was the last thing she expected—Harry to have kids.

A look of realization crossed Harry’s face, and he started laughing. “I think you have the wrong
idea. Ki-ki-ki-ki,” he called in a strange tone and in quick succession.

Suddenly, tiny bleats erupted from a fenced area near the goat pen. Harry motioned her forward
toward the pen. She looked over the wooden rails, and there were little baby goats trotting about
inside.

She hugged Harry’s arm. “They’re so cute!”

“Told you that you had the wrong idea,” he smiled. “I’ll be back in a second. I’m getting their
food.”

He went to the tack, and apparently feed, room and returned floating several bottles of milk
behind him, each with a name on it. He handed one to her and slipped carefully inside the pen with
the animals, keeping them inside while Hermione followed suit.

“There’s the one you want.” Harry pointed at a small tawny goat, which trotted over to her.
Harry grabbed a black one and held the bottle up so it could eat. Harry took the last bottle in his
other hand and began feeding the gray goat and soon the bottles of milk were completely drained of
their contents.

Harry stood up and took her bottle before helping her to her feet. “That’s it. I’ve got all the
rest of it completed,” stated Harry. “Let’s take these inside and warm up. Dobby and Berry should
have breakfast ready by now.”

Hermione nodded and allowed Harry to lead her back into the house. He took his cloak off and
hung it on a hook just inside the portal; then he did the same with hers.

After walking to the kitchen and setting the bottles down, Harry sat down at the table where
breakfast sat, sizzling away. Hermione sat next to him, and both ate the food.

She broke the silence of the meal by asking a question. “So, when are we going back?”

Harry swallowed the forkful of egg he’d just put in his mouth. “Going back?” His voice had a
tinge of resentment. “Who said I was going back?”

“You brought me back here, and I thought—”

“Never assume, ‘Mi,” he said, turning back to his breakfast.

“But what about Voldemort? What about the prophecy, you need to fulfill? Harry, you’re the only
one who can defeat Voldemort. Doesn’t that mean anything to you anymore?”

Harry only shrugged. “I have this life now. I have things to take care of here.”

Then a squeaky voice broke in. “You should go.”

They both whipped their heads toward the sound. Berry stood there, small tears in the corners of
her eyes with Dobby standing behind her for comfort.

“She said you were the only one who could defeat You-Know-Who. He should not be out there, and
if you are the only one who can defeat him, then you should go.”

Harry seemed taken aback by her statement. “Where is this coming from?”

“Berry’s family was killed by You-Know-Who,” she explained. “Berry was out running errands when
You-Know-Who attacked. Berry found the house in ruins. Every witch, wizard, and elf was killed. You
must go back.”

Harry’s eyes were wide. It was apparent she’d never told him this story before, and it hit him a
bit hard. He looked up at Dobby.

“You know what I think.”

Harry nodded and cleared his plate, still with food, and left the room. Kosse, who was lying on
a rug near the door, followed him out.

“What? Are you going to make it four to one?” Hermione heard him mumble down the hall. Then she
heard cabinets and drawers being opened and closed. She wanted to see what he was doing, but with
the way he left the table, she wasn’t sure that he would really want company at the moment, so she
finished eating and cleared her plate. Berry rushed over to wash the dishes.

Hermione followed Harry to his room. There she found him lying on his back with his arm over his
eyes. He seemed so calm in appearance, but she could tell that he wasn’t relaxed at all.

She walked over and sat on the edge of the bed. He lifted his arm for a moment, but placed it
back down after a glance.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

“No. I’m the one who should be sorry. You’re right, all of you. I’ve been a stupid, selfish
prat.” He sighed. “This damn war should be over by now.”

Harry sat up and leaned on one knee, rubbing one temple gently. “I guess I was just sick of it,
so I convinced myself that everyone was just using me somehow.”

“So what are you going to do?”

“Nothing for now.”

Hermione’s jaw dropped a little as she glared at Harry. After what he just said he was going to
do nothing?

Harry laughed a bit. “Andrew Coleman, however, will appear in the wizarding world. I’m not sure
I’m quite ready for an onslaught of people thundering my way. As Drew, no one will know the
difference unless I tell them.”

Harry placed two fingers under her chin and kissed her gently. “Make sure you’re packed
tonight,” he whispered. “We leave after breakfast tomorrow, bright and early in the morning.”



8. Return
---------

Runaway

Chapter 7: Return

By KZerina

She was glad Harry made her wear so many layers. Way up in the sky it was very cold, but at
least she had Harry’s warmth in front of her, keeping most of the wind away.

“You can open your eyes, now. We’re almost there,” Harry laughed.

“I haven’t always my eyes closed!”

“Well then you haven’t had a good view since your face has been buried in my back the entire
time.”

Hermione playfully smacked him on the shoulder before clinging again to his waist. She could
feel the Aethonian’s descent and landing. As she felt Sleipnir touch ground, she lifted her head
and looked around. She hadn’t been here for five years now. It still looked the same as she
remembered it. Hagrid’s hut was in front of them, and Hagrid was lumbering towards them.

“Tha’s a beautiful Aethonian ya got there.” Hagrid paused as he looked at the horse’s riders.
“Hermione? Is tha’ you?” She nodded with a grin. “I’s been so long! I’s good to see ya!” he greeted
with a large hug. “And who’s yer friend?”

Hermione glanced over at Harry. She wasn’t sure as whom he wanted Hagrid to know him.

“Andrew Coleman,” Harry said, extending his hand, but instead of the bright blue eyes he wore as
Drew, he had his own bright green ones.

Hagrid peered at him for a moment, having seen their transformation. Then his eyes grew wide.
“Harry?” he asked, earning a smile. Then Hagrid rushed forward and picked Harry up in a huge bear
hug. “’Arry! I can’t believe you came back!”

Hagrid then put him down and shook him in his excitement.

“Hagrid! First off, could you stop shaking me? You’re making me dizzy.”

Hagrid stopped immediately, apologizing while Harry struggled to keep himself upright. “Second,
I am going by Andrew Coleman, for now. You may call me Drew, Andrew, or if you really want to be
formal, Mr. Coleman, but Drew is probably your best bet.

“Finally, would you be so kind as to care for Sleipnir for me?”

Hagrid’s eyes lit up with great excitement. “Oh, of course, er, Drew. He’s a beautiful creature,
beautiful. Jus’ tell me what I need to do with him, and I’ll do it.”

Harry smiled and turned to the chestnut. “You behave, Sleipnir. This is Hagrid. He’ll take care
of you.” With these words, Harry dropped the reins and took the bags off the horse’s back.

Kosse had insisted on joining them on their trek. “Come on, Kosse,” Harry told the dog who was
lying lazily across Sleipnir’s shoulders. Kosse only looked at Harry and set his head back down.
“Fine.” Harry pulled out his wand for appearance’s sake and floated the sluggish dog from his perch
atop the winged horse. “Now, come on, we’re going to see the headmaster.”

“Good ter see ya again.”

“And you, Hagrid. I will be back shortly.”

He handed the reins Hagrid, who led the horse away, and kissed Hermione on the cheek before
turning toward the front entrance to the castle, Kosse on his heels.

“Drew!” Hermione called. Harry stopped and looked over his shoulder. “If you see Ron, send him
out, please?” Harry nodded and continued to Dumbledore’s office.

While waiting for Harry to return, Ron came out and joined her. He took Hermione in a hug that
was a little friendlier than she would have liked.

“Ron!” she exclaimed, pushing him backwards.

“What? I didn’t do anything.”

“We’re not engaged anymore, remember?” Ron looked disgruntled at her statement. “I’m happy to
see you too, Ron, but as a friend, nothing more than that.”

Ron’s face showed his disappointment, but he nodded and hugged her more appropriately.

“It’s been almost a year, Hermione. What made you come back? I mean, it can’t be just
random.”

“Andrew Coleman.”

“Who?”

“Andrew Coleman, he’s a wonderful guy.”

“What exactly do you know about this guy?” Ron asked suspiciously.

“He saved me from Hypothermia….”

“Hypo-what-ia?”

“…He has a nice cabin in the mountains….”

“Which ones?”

“…He has sheep, goats, dogs, cats, and that over there with Hagrid is his Aethonian, Sleipnir…”
she said.

“What kind of weirdo names something Sleipnir? Whatever that is.”

“And he’s got kids.”

“Kids?!?”

“Yeah, they go ba-ah.”

“Kids are strange. Who’d he have ‘em with?”

“I mean baby goats, Ron.”

“Oh, riiiiiight.”

“He has house-elves.”

“And you’re okay with this?”

Hermione nodded. “He lets them come and go as they please, provides proper clothes for them, and
things like that. He carves beautiful wooden statues….”

“Statues?” Ron scoffed.

“…He’s the strong, silent type…unlike you…. You are loud and…louder….” Ron humphed. “He exudes
this aura of power….”

“Are you sure he’s not a Death Eater? They’re still on the loose, you know.”

“…He’s kind and gentle and sweet, and he has the most beautiful green eyes…” Hermione said
dreamily.

“Green? When I saw him in the corridor, they were blue.”

“Oh! And he’s got these cool tattoos on his upper arms!”

“Tattoos?”

“A phoenix on the left and a griffin on the right.”

“Just how far have you gone with this guy?”

“I’ve slept with him,” Hermione answered confidently.

“You WHAT?!?!?”

“Slept with him. You know, ‘Z.’ Snore, which by the way, you do so loudly.”

Ron scowled, though she didn’t know whether it was because she was talking about actual sleep or
at her comment about his snoring. Hermione gave a satisfied grin at having successfully fooled
him.

Ron put his composure back into place. “You said when you left that you weren’t coming back
until you found Harry. Why didn’t you bring him back with you?”

Hermione heard footsteps behind her and turned to see who was approaching. It was Harry and the
headmaster, Kosse trotting along behind the two men.

“Hey, ‘Mi,” Harry said as he approached. “Hello, Ron, was it?”

“Yeah,” Ron sneered.

“Nice to meet you,” said Harry, holding out his hand in a pleasant gesture, his eyes their
familiar emerald. Ron only looked back with disgust and contempt.

“Ronald Weasley! That is very rude!” Hermione scolded, thumping Ron on the back of the head.

Ron gently rubbed the spot with a crinkled nose and asked rudely, “What’d you hit me for,
woman?”

“That’s not very nice either. Talk about bad first impressions. Would you like me to hit him for
you, ‘Mi?” Harry asked his blue eyes back in place.

“That won’t be necessary,” she replied. Then she slapped Ron so hard on the cheek that a large
crimson spot shown from beneath his hand now clamped to his face as he steadied himself against a
nearby tree.

The headmaster politely cleared his throat. “Shall we go to lunch?”

Harry nodded. “Sounds good. We’re starved.” He offered his arm to Hermione at the same time
Dumbledore did, so Hermione holed one arm on each elbow and the three walked off.

“Oi, Red!” Harry called over his shoulder. “Ya coming?”

Ron scowled back, rubbing his still tender red cheek.

“Kosse, go on. Find Sleip and make friends with Fang.”

The Rhodesian ridgeback perked up his ears, then trotted away in search of his equine friend.
Hermione smiled at Kosse before turning forward again and entering the castle.

As they passed through the doors to the entrance hall, Harry looked around. “It’s been so long….
Don’t even think about it!”

Hermione looked over at Harry, not understanding his words until he shifted his gaze to the
ceiling where Peeves, the pesky poltergeist, was hovering with a water balloon clenched in his hand
and a very confused expression on his face.

“How did you know?” the spook asked warily.

“After seven years of you, you’d think I’d be used to it.”

“But I’ve never seen you before.”

“Just get out of here or you’ll wish I’d called the Baron.” Peeves eyed him, skeptically. “Don’t
test me. I do have the power to back it up.”

With those words, Peeves rethought his idea of bombarding Harry with water balloons and zipped
off to cause mischief elsewhere in the castle.

“Idiot,” Harry said after Peeves.

“I’m impressed, Drew. That specter doesn’t even listen to me,” Dumbledore said.

“You just have to be a bit forceful with him.”

They smiled and continued on their way to the table. Harry and Hermione sat on the end while the
headmaster took his own seat. The students stared and pointed at the newcomers. Some of the seventh
years seemed to recognize Hermione, the head girl from their first year. The teachers nearby looked
at them before greeting them. Harry politely introduced himself as Andrew Coleman and the
professors left it at that.

After lunch, the headmaster led them to an extra room on the fourth floor of Hogwarts. This was
to be Hermione’s room while they stayed at the castle. The room next door to hers would be Harry’s,
though they would most likely be in one room or the other at any given time they were there.

During the afternoon, Harry and Hermione wandered around the castle, visiting teachers and
staff. While Hermione went to visit some of her favorite teachers, Harry went to visit Hagrid,
Kosse, and Sleipnir, to show Hagrid how to care for them if for some reason Harry couldn’t.

When she went to visit Professor Vector, the Arithmancy teacher, she found that he wasn’t there,
and she hadn’t seen him all day. She passed Professor Dumbledore in the hall and decided to ask
what was going on.

“Excuse me, Professor,” Hermione said as she walked up beside the headmaster.

Dumbledore turned around. “Oh, Hermione! Yes, what may I do for you?”

“I was wondering about Professor Vector. I haven’t seen him.”

“He is at home taking care of some personal business. He is taking an extended leave of absence.
We have assignments from him, and there are teachers taking care of the classes.” Hermione nodded.
“But, Hermione. The idea just struck me,” the professor stated. “You would be able to teach these
classes, would you not?”

“I think I could, but are sure you’d want me to do that?”

“Yes, I do. You would be able to teach them new concepts and answer their questions. Instead of
just reading and writing, they can apply what they learn. Will you do it?”

Hermione was taken aback by the offer. “Sure,” she finally got out as the headmaster smiled at
her.

“Thank you, Hermione. The resources are in the classroom. If you need anything else, feel free
to ask for it.”

“Thank you, sir,” Hermione said as she turned down the hall to the Arithmancy room to explore
the texts and tools.

Before she knew it, hours had passed, and Harry entered the classroom. “It took me forever to
find you, ‘Mi. I’ve been looking everywhere for you. What are you doing up here?”

“Professor Dumbledore needed a temporary replacement Arithmancy teacher while Professor Vector
was on extended leave for personal business.”

Harry nodded and smiled. “That’s just the job for you, Miss
Arithmancy-was-my-favorite-class-at-Hogwarts.”

Hermione scrunched up her nose at the comment, and Harry wrapped his arms around Hermione’s
shoulders and kissed her cheek. Then suddenly, strange yelling resounded down the corridor. Harry
furrowed his brow and went to look out the door. He turned his head to watch down the other
direction as a short, thin, black-clad figure shot past, followed by suitcases and Peeves, throwing
rotten fruit.

“I wonder what that was all about,” Harry said, waving his hand and cleaning up the splattered
fruit from the floor. “She didn’t seem too happy about something.”

Hermione shook her head. “I don’t know who that was, much less what her problem was.”

Harry shrugged his shoulders and went back to his previous position. Hermione ran her fingers
through his blonde locks and reveled in his presence.

Then Ron walked in. “Hermione, I need to talk to—what is this?”

“What does it matter?”

Harry put his chin on top of Hermione’s head, his arms still wrapped around her shoulders.

“What is with you? The eye thing is weird! Don’t do that!” Ron exclaimed, a disgusted look
crossing his face. Then he mumbled, “Weirdo.”

“Well I happen to love this ‘weirdo,’ as you say, and if your brain can’t comprehend my saying
it, then I’ll just have to show you.”

With those words, Hermione brought Harry’s head level with hers and kissed him full on the lips.
Ron, who seemed quite disgusted and bitter at this display, rolled his eyes and with a sneer left
the room to go about his business.



9. Jobs
-------

Runaway

Chapter 8-Jobs

By KZerina

It turned out that the commotion outside the classroom had been the Defense Against the Dark
Arts teacher having a fit about the students’ pranks and the poltergeist that haunted the castle.
She had just gone to Professor Dumbledore and quit because she couldn’t take it anymore, and it
wasn’t even half way through the year. Now Defense Against the Dark Arts was in the same boat as
Arithmancy, only the teacher wasn’t coming back.

Dumbledore announced to the school the next day that all Defense Against the Dark Arts classes
were cancelled until further notice. At that time, the headmaster did not give the reason, and
rumors, as they always do, flew like the Thestrals over the Dark Forest. A few of the rumors were
close and one was right from the pranksters themselves.

That day he also announced Hermione as the fill-in Arithmancy teacher, and that all Arithmancy
classes were back on. A groan came from the students who took the class, but it turned out that
most of the students enjoyed the class that Hermione held that day.

Later in the week, Dumbledore held a faculty meeting which Hermione, now, had to attend since
she was part of the Hogwarts staff. This meeting was about the Defense Against the Dark Arts
position.

“Where are you off to, ‘Mi?” Harry asked as she packed a few things for the meeting.

“To a staff meeting about the Defense position. I don’t know what he wants to say about it
though.”

Harry raised his eyebrows and nodded. “Well,” he said standing up and walking over to her. “Have
a good time there then.”

“Thank you,” she replied hugging and kissing him before she left.

Hermione was one of the first teachers to arrive at the meeting, being the punctual person she
always was. She arrived even before the headmaster. As soon as all the teachers got to the room,
Professor Dumbledore strolled casually through the door and sat at the head of the table.

“Good evening everyone. Thank you all for attending on such short notice. As my note explained,
I held this meeting to discuss the position of Defense Against the Dark Arts,” he stated
informatively. “I have made up a schedule of substitutes for the next week and beyond. It will
remain that way until I am able to find a suitable replacement for Susan.”

Heads nodded, except for Snape’s. He instead seemed slightly disgusted, but spoke up. “Sir, if I
may.” The headmaster nodded. “By this time, most of you have met a certain Andrew Coleman who came
among us earlier this week.” More heads nodded. “I believe, as much as I dislike him, that he would
do an exquisite job as a Defense teacher. I have spoken with him on several occasions and have
heard that he has an extensive bit of knowledge on the subject.”

Hermione looked at Snape surprised that he was suggesting Harry, a man for whom he had a great
loathing, for the job that he coveted beyond all others. This seemed to be a consensus around the
faces who knew of Harry’s true identity, and even those who didn’t, but knew of Snape’s lust for
the position.

Dumbledore nodded. “An excellent suggestion, Severus. I believe you are correct in your
deductions, though I don’t know how willing he would be to accept the position, having gotten to
know his personality a bit better.” He turned to Hermione. “Hermione, would you please deliver the
message that I should like to see Mr. Coleman?”

“Yes, sir,” she responded, a little apprehensive of what Harry would think.

“Thank you. Now unless anyone has any matters to attend to,” he paused to allow for comments
though none were heard. “Very well, you are dismissed.”

With those words, the shuffling of papers and scooting of chairs signaled the end of the
meeting, and Hermione stood and went to Harry’s room. His door was open and inside he was lying
prone on the bed reading a book. He seemed to be concentrating pretty hard on it, so she decided to
surprise him with her arrival. She silently set her papers down on the desk by the door and stalked
over to his side like a cat, pouncing on to his back when she reached him. Harry didn’t flinch or
even look up from the pages.

“Hello, ‘Mi,” he said still looking at the book. “How was the meeting?”

“It was about the new Defense position,” she replied, nonchalantly. “Surprisingly enough, Snape
gave the suggestion of the next one with as much as he covets that position.”

“Really? He didn’t ask for it?”

“Nope. Oh, and Professor Dumbledore would like to speak with you.”

“Now?”

“I guess. He didn’t specify a time to have you go to him, though I suggest going to his office
to meet him.”

Harry nodded and closed his book, setting it on the bedside table before sitting up and
stretching. He put on a black wizards’ robe and headed toward the door, but Hermione stepped in his
way such that he almost knocked her over. “Yes?”

“You didn’t think I’d let you leave without a kiss did you?”

He smiled lovingly. “Of course not.” He leaned down and kissed her lips as softly as a cloud.
Then he swept off to Dumbledore’s office for his interview with the headmaster.

Now she was alone, so she decided to look over the lesson plan for Monday to make sure she was
ready. Her students were in general well-behaved, though there were a few troublemakers. As of a
weeks worth of classes, teaching wasn’t all that bad. She sat down at Harry’s desk and started
making notes for the lecture part of her classes on Monday.

Soon enough Harry returned, his face very contemplative and distant. The proposal to him,
knowing Harry, wasn’t something he’d just take lightly. She knew he’d be able to do it since he’d
taught students older than he was when he was fifteen in “Dumbledore’s Army.” It was more a matter
of whether he wanted to teach or not. This was on a larger scale and it took up more time than DA
did.

Harry sat on the edge of the bed and stared blankly at the wall. Hermione stood from her chair
and sat next to him, enveloping his shoulders in a hug.

“So, Snape suggested me, huh?” he asked in a disbelieving tone. “He hates my guts and has always
thirsted for this job like a starved blood-sucking demon. What the bloody hell is this world coming
to?” He flopped backwards onto the bed.

“I do agree, though. You would be perfect for the job. You know many spells and incantations.
You know about magical beasts and what to do to get rid of them. Your knowledge of the Dark Arts,
its defense and all that goes with it are extraordinary.”

“I know.” Harry closed his eyes and breathed deeply. “I understand that, and I understand that’s
why everyone wants me to take the job.” He let that hang a little.

“But?”

“What about my house, the animals, Dobby and Berry?”

“They’ll be fine. I’m sure you could always just do it for the rest of the year and then they
can find another person for next year if you really don’t want to do it.”

Harry stared at the ceiling for a while longer before rolling onto his stomach and standing up.
“I think I’ll sleep on it. It’s getting late.”

Hermione nodded and stood with him. Harry lifted his book from the table and leaned down to kiss
her. “’Night, love,” he whispered.

“’Night,” she replied and made her way over to her own room.

***

Monday morning at breakfast, Artemis, Harry’s eagle owl dropped a letter onto the headmaster’s
pile of mail. Hermione glanced to her right at Harry who just continued to eat, completely ignoring
the fact that the owl had entered. It must have been his reply to the job proposal, but his face
was completely expressionless. Hermione couldn’t distinguish what the answer would be.

The headmaster read the letter and merely nodded, his face as expressionless as Harry’s. You
could tell these two men knew each other and taught and learned from each other. Nothing was going
to escape their faces. Sometimes that ability of theirs really got on her nerves. Like now.
Hermione shook her head at them and returned to her scrambled eggs. She had classes to teach and
didn’t need to worry about whether Harry was teaching or not.

Out of the corner of her eye, Hermione saw Harry nod. Then the headmaster stood. Slowly the
students hushed as they realized the headmaster was going to speak.

“Thank you, everyone, for your attention. I know you are all eager to return to the consumption
of the food on the platters in front of you, but I must briefly distract you from your merriment to
deliver to you an important announcement.

“You all must attend your defense lessons today for your new teacher will not tolerate the
skipping of your first class with him unless you have a proper note from a proper source, such as a
sick note from Madam Pomfrey.

“Please make sure to give him a good reception and don’t try anything on him. Trust me. He’ll
know. Thank you, once again, for your attention. Please return to your marvelous morning
meals.”

After Dumbledore sat back in his seat, the student chatter rose again, and Harry smiled. He
accepted the job. Hermione quietly slipped her hand into his and gave it a gentle squeeze. Harry
turned only his eyes to her and his smile widened a little. He finished the last few bites of his
breakfast and squeezed her hand before slipping his away and leaving the Great Hall, probably to
prepare for his first classes.

She decided she would let him go for the time being and prepare for the monsters he would be
facing for the rest of the year. She chuckled to herself then stood to prepare for her own
Arithmancy lessons which started in an hour.

On her way, she met Harry again. “Where are you off to?” she asked him.

“To talk to Dumbledore. He has a few things to tell me before I go set up for class at ten.”

“You have a break first hour. That’ll help some in your preparation,” Hermione smiled; Harry
nodded a reply. “Well, I’ll let you get going then.”

Harry smiled and kissed her cheek before turning down the hallway heading for the headmaster’s
office. She would see him after his first day of classes. Hopefully the students wouldn’t torture
him too badly, not that he’d put up with it anyway. With that thought, she gathered here supplies
and headed to her classroom.

***

That afternoon after all classes were completed, Hermione went to visit Harry in his room. She
knocked, and at first there was no answer. She knocked again in case he hadn’t heard her the first
time and heard him call that it was unlocked and that she could go in.

Harry was sitting at his desk shuffling through a pile of parchment. Hermione noted that there
were quite a few piles elsewhere in the room as well, his bed, the floor, the nightstand,
everywhere. “What’s all this? So many papers in one day?”

“It’s ‘getting to know you stuff.’”

Hermione smiled and wrapped her arms around his neck, pressing her cheek to his. “Are you ready
to eat?” Harry nodded and the two went to the Great Hall and took their seats at the High
Table.

Ron also came in and ate at that time. He sat on Hermione’s other side and glowered across at
Harry who merely ignored the gesture. “I want to talk to both of you. *Tonight*.” He said the
last word firmly and with a specific emphasis. His tone was annoyed and stubborn, just like his
attitude.

The rest of the meal was silent between the three of them and so was the walk back to Hermione’s
room, which had become the talking room. Harry leaned on the desk, watching Ron through the blonde
locks that fell over his eyes; Hermione sat on the foot of the bed, patiently and Ron stood in the
middle of an empty place in the room with a glare on his face.

“Hermione, I need you to tell me what is up with this new relationship. You said when you left
that you wouldn’t come back until you found Harry, and this guy doesn’t look like him,” Ron ranted,
almost in one breath. “You broke of our engagement to go find Harry, and I would have been okay had
you actually brought him back. I would have been more than happy to let him have you.”

Hermione glanced over at Harry. His face showed no hint of a reaction to Ron’s statement about
the engagement. That could be a good or bad sign coming from him, but he wouldn’t release that
until Ron left, maybe not even then.

Ron’s statement was directed at Hermione so she replied, “Ron, I don’t know what planet you’re
living on right now, but I suggest you return to Earth and figure out what is going on before you
go around accusing people, and last I checked my love life is my choice, not yours.”

Ron snorted. “Fine, but you’ll have to answer me soon enough.” With those words, the red-head
stormed out the door with a slam in his wake.

“He can be such an insufferable git sometimes,” Hermione muttered to herself.

Harry shifted from his position against the desk, his face as expressionless as ever, and sat
next to her on the bed. “When were you going to tell me?”

***

Dun-dun-dun….the moment many people have mentioned didn’t happen earlier. Harry now knows of the
engagement…. What now? I don’t know…wait…yeah I do…I’m the author. Now all I have to do is write
it.

I ALSO SEND OUT A BIG APOLOGY TO EVERYONE READING THIS FOR TAKING SO LONG. I took a hiatus from
it and i think i can get back into it now. *hears lots of cheering* Hopefully I’ll have the next
chapter soon, but I can’t assure you of that with school and other obligations and such, but
hopefully it won’t be a pregnancy’s length this time.



10. Answers
-----------

Runaway

Chapter 9-Answers

By KZerina

Harry continued watching her. She could feel his scrutinizing gaze. “Hermione?”

She bit her lower lip in an attempt to give herself some confidence. “I didn’t think it was that
important.” She looked up to take in his reaction.

He merely raised his eyebrows. “Didn’t think it was important?” His tone revealed his surprise.
“I think it’s pretty important. As a warning to me about how he’d act, if nothing else.”

Hermione shifted to sit next to Harry, leaning her head on his shoulder. “I don’t know. I just
never thought about it, I guess. I was so overwhelmed by finding you again and convincing you to
come back that it completely slipped my mind.”

Harry sighed as a contemplative look crossed his face. He didn’t move as her head hit his
shoulder, which Hermione took as a good sign. One that meant he wasn’t angry with her.

He put his arm around her waist. “I won’t assure much. I have to think about this some, but I
will assure you that I won’t leave. You won’t lose me like that, again.” He gave her a reassuring
smile.

He stood from his place on the bed and gave her a gentle kiss before he left for probably his
own room.

She flopped back on the bed with a heaving sigh. How could she have forgotten something like her
engagement to Ron, even in the heat of excitement like that? It was a stupid mistake on her part,
but at least he wasn’t going to leave like last time. Relief flooded her at the final realization
of what he’d said. At least she wouldn’t completely lose him this time. She didn’t think she could
bear him abandoning her again, and if he did, she’d *never* find him again, even by accident
like she had this time. He’d pick up and move again and would never return to any part of the
Wizarding World.

She smiled that she didn’t have to worry about that just yet. She stood and readied for bed, her
thoughts on Harry.

***

The next morning at breakfast, Harry wasn’t grumpy as she may have expected. He was smiling at
her. He apparently wasn’t too troubled by her uninforming him of her previous relationship with
Ron, who was, on the other hand, quite grumpy. He hadn’t gotten over their conversation last
night.

Hermione shook her head and gave Harry a hug as she sat down at the table next to him. “Sleep
well?” she asked with a smile.

Harry nodded and looked at the Headmaster who stood to make an announcement. “Good morning,
students and faculty. If I could turn your attention from your starving stomachs for just a few
moments, please.” He paused and waited patiently for the din to calm before continuing. “I would
like to announce that starting tomorrow night, there will be a dueling club, reprised from ten
years previous to our current year.

“Professor Snape has so graciously offered to run it with an assistant, you new Defense Against
the Dark Arts professor, Andrew Coleman. They will be looking forward to having the lot of you
attend and all of you are welcome to do so. Please sign up some time today on your common room
bulletin board.”

Dumbledore sat down after the introductions with a gesture for all the students to continue
stuffing their faces with food.

Hermione looked at Harry. “Really?”

Harry only nodded, having just put a forkful of egg into his mouth. She couldn’t believe Snape.
First he recommended, knowingly, Harry to be the replacement Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher,
but now he requested that Harry assist him with a reprisal dueling club. The Potions Master must
have completely broken his rocker, not gotten off it. He must have had some strong magical brain
surgery over the five years she’d been gone.

Time for classes started, and she went quickly to the classroom for her Arithmancy with fifth
years and Harry to his Defense Against the Dark Arts class with first years.

***

After a tiring day of classes and a filling dinner, Harry and Hermione went to Harry’s office to
work on some grading.

Hermione put her red-writing quill down and spoke. “Do you know what Snape’s thinking? I mean,
that’s twice now that he’s consciously decided to work with you.”

Harry shrugged. “Out of his mind, if you ask me.” He looked over at her. “I’m surprised, myself,
but maybe he’s finally realized that I’m not as dumb as my name tells him I am.”

“Your name isn’t dumb.”

“To him it is. My dad all but tortured him when they were students here, remember?”

“I guess that’s true. That man can really hold a grudge, can’t he?”

“You’re telling me.” Harry chuckled and marked off a wrong answer on the paper he was
grading.

Hermione opened her mouth to ask if he’d thought about the engagement, but she thought twice
about it being inappropriate. She wanted to know, but if she asked too much or too early, he might
get annoyed with her, and it would turn into an even bigger mess.

“What’s on your mind?”

Hermione snapped her head up from the paper she had been staring blankly at. Harry was looking
at her and had noticed her staring.

She turned back to the paper. “It’s nothing,” she replied quietly.

“I’m not stupid, ‘Mi. Is it about last night?”

She moved her eyes to look out their corners so she didn’t have to look at Harry and nodded a
few times slowly. Harry stood and stepped slowly over to her. He kneeled next to the chair and
place one hand on hers, the other gently stroked her jaw.

“You worry too much sometimes, you know that?”

Hermione looked at him once more and her eyes met with his normal green ones. “It’s all right,
‘Mi. I’m yours. Don’t worry.” He smiled at her as he stood and ruffled her already monstrous hair.
He began to walk back over to his desk.

“Harry,” Hermione called. He turned back around. She beckoned him back with a finger. He leaned
down on the armrest of her chair. Hermione kissed him gently, and then smiled sweetly, pushing his
shoulder away and back to his work. He chuckled and they both finished up their work.