1. Prologue

Memories: the Prologue

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

The air was much more festive than it had been only a day before. Everyone, from the first-years to the soon to be graduates to even the tired faculty members was finally relaxed for the first time in a very long time. The fears of the hidden future still stayed nearby, but no one cared. Lord Voldemort, who they had called “You-Know-Who” even when everyone thought he was long gone, was dead. And his death had come at the hand of the one who had banished him so long ago—Harry Potter.

The band this time was a group of seventh-years that called themselves the Unisex Pistols. They were very skillful with their instruments, playing old favorites and new hits with the prowess that even some professional bands lacked. The best part of their act, however, was when they did a game called “Mimicry”. They took requests of names from the crowd, and after conversing amongst themselves for a few moments, played a satirical song about the person. Most of their targets laughed; few, like Argus Filch (the Pistols had made a song about his pants that he didn’t quite appreciate), fumed quietly in anger.

But for now, a slow, romantic song drifted through the Great Hall, and every student danced with his favorite partner. Some danced as friends, holding each other so that space could be seen between them; some danced as lovers with their bodies making full contact. The teachers watched on, letting the hormonal behavior continue; in fact, some joined the students in slow dancing.

Of the two types of dancers, Hermione and Ron were definitely in the second category. Hermione Granger leaned her head against the shoulder of her boyfriend Ron Weasley as they danced to the music. She sighed happily. Ron smirked.

“What’s on your mind, Hermione?” He asked, whispering sensually into her ear.

Hermione sighed again. “It’s just… It’s just that it’s over. We don’t have to worry about living our adult lives under this great big shadow. We won’t have to fear the Dark Mark being flung over a loved one’s house. We can just have ordinary, normal lives, with ordinary, normal jobs, and ordinary, normal children.” She paused as a pair of fairies flew past her face, laughing all the while. She smiled. “Well, perhaps not too normal.”

Ron shrugged and Hermione lifted her head off of his shoulder to look at him. “That’s all in the future, Hermes,” he said softly, brushing her brown hair back from her face. “I think that the present deserves some consideration too, don't you?”

Hermione grinned, showing her teeth. “I think you’re right, Mr. Weasley.” They leaned even closer to each other, their bodies pressing against each other. They indulged in each other’s eyes, forgetting everything else except each other. Their hands crept slowly to hold the other’s head gently. Then, they kissed passionately, still swaying to the gentle throb of the music.

Their mouths were still pressed to each other when they both became aware of a foot tapping the floor behind them, loudly enough to be heard over the music. They reacted as any hormone-driven teenagers would react: they ignored it. The following not-so-subtle cough was as easily ignored, and after a few moments, the interloper decided to take an even more direct approach, and tapped Ron on the shoulder. He disengaged from Hermione to turn his head back towards the annoying disturbance.

It was Harry Potter, the Head Boy of his year. He was wearing dark green robes, as usual, and there was nothing in his posture or costume that even indicated that he had defeated the Dark Lord less than a week earlier. “All right, you two,” Harry said, his face completely solemn, “there’s first years here at the dance, too. Don’t want to corrupt them now, do we?”

“Sod off, Bighead Boy,” Ron said flippantly, and turned back to recommence on the task at hand. His lips touched Hermione’s, but an instant afterwards, she pulled off of his kiss, giggling. She shook her head.

“He’s right, you know. Being the Head Girl, I shouldn’t be setting such a bad example.”

“You said it, not me,” Harry said, smiling slightly for the first time that night. He raised his hand towards Hermione as the current song ended, and another slow song began. “May I have this dance, Smarty?”

Her eyes twinkled. “I’d love to, Scruffy.” She looked at Ron expectantly, but he didn’t seem to get the subtle hint. He stayed where he was, holding her close to him. She stood on tiptoes and kissed his cheek to get his attention. “Honey, I’m going to go dance with Harry now. Let go of me?”

Ron threw a quick glance at Harry, and very deliberately swooped down to kiss her passionately once more. Harry watched, face emotionless, as the kiss continued. Finally, Hermione broke it off, her eyes slightly glassy, and turned towards Harry. As Harry and Hermione smiled at each other and put their arms around each other, Ron glared at Harry with vehemence. After a moment, he stalked off towards the drinks.

As for Harry and Hermione, they were silent, just enjoying the comfort between them. They listened to the lead singer sing out about soulmates, and true love, and destiny. Hermione looked up at Harry after a moment.

“So, Mr. Hero-Slytherin-Man,” Hermione teased, “how are you going to celebrate beating Voldemort for the final time?”

Harry smiled at her. “What do you think I’m doing right now, Smarty?”

Hermione blushed slightly. “Yeah, well- I don’t think you’ll ever need to worry about your future in the wizarding world. I think you’ll be able to do whatever you want to do. I’m sure you can start modeling for towel companies, and still you’ll get a lot of money.”

Harry’s grin had faded while Hermione had been talking. He looked down at the floor, away from Hermione’s face, as he mumbled “Well, I’m not too sure about my future. It doesn’t look too bright for me.”

Hermione’s eyes widened. “Harry, what are you talking about?”

Harry shrugged. “It’s… it’s nothing. Don’t worry about it.” They continued to dance, falling back to silence.

Hermione frowned. For the first time that night, she noticed that Harry was agitated over something. (No one else had noticed; Hermione Granger had gotten so used to Harry’s moods over the years to recognize his near-imperceptible moods.) She leaned up on tiptoe, against his body, to whisper in his ear.

“Harry, what’s wrong? Don’t even try to brush it off as nothing again. I know you better than you know yourself, Mister, and there’s something bothering you.”

Harry sighed. His eyes met hers, and he seemed to drink in the sight. “I can’t bear it any more.” He whispered. He smiled sadly. “I know I’m not going to see you after we leave Hogwarts.”

Hermione shook her head and chuckled slightly. “What are you talking about? We’ll still live with Mom and Dad for at least the summer. And didn’t you want to move in with Ron and me in London?”

Harry laughed bitterly, a sound that Hermione knew all too well. After they had entered Hogwarts, Harry had grown too cynical and too sarcastic for Hermione’s liking.

“Hermione,” he said, his body still jerking from his mirthless laughter, “Did you actually dream that Ron and me could get along? He hates my guts.”

“He just hates Slytherins: he has nothing against you personally.” Hermione answered feebly.

“Hermione,” Harry said again, and placed his hands on her shoulders and held her at arm’s length. He stopped dancing. “Ron Weasley has always hated me, and not just because I’m a Slytherin. He only pretends to tolerate me around you because I’m your best friend. And I know you’re smart enough to know that.”

Hermione sighed and closed her eyes. She nodded, and was silent for another moment. Harry placed his arms around her once more, and they began to dance again.

The song had drawn nearly to a close when Hermione suddenly realized what Harry had done. Though everything he had said was true, to her dismay, she realized he had driven her away from the answer of her original question.

“You… you git!” Hermione said, grinning. “How dare you use that Slytherin cunning to trick me! Answer my question!” She looked up at his eyes again, and found them hard and sad.

“Hermione, I can’t take it any more. I’m going to run.” Harry whispered into the air, looking up into the ceiling to avoid her gaze.

Hermione frowned. “What do you mean, Harry? What can’t you take? Harry, Harry—you know I’m here for you. I’ll always be here for you. You’re like a brother to me.” She reached up with her hands to touch his face, but he jerked away.

“That’s exactly what I mean, Hermione. I’m like a brother to you.” He paused for a moment, then took a deep breath. In a whisper almost unheard over the music, he murmured, “I love you.”

Hermione nodded. “I love you too, Harry. I’ve loved you for as long as I can remember ever loving someone. You know that.”

Harry smiled sadly. “You still don’t understand.” The music had stopped, and the Unisex Pistols was pausing from their jamming to address the audience. Everyone had stopped dancing, and were laughing and cheering at the band’s jokes and insults. Ron had noticed the intense looks Harry and Hermione were giving each other, and had started to walk in their direction. Some of the crowd began to migrate towards the bathrooms and the refreshments, moving past the Head Girl and Boy still standing in the middle of the hall.

But the world seemed to have faded away to Harry and Hermione. The crowds glided past them, their mouths moving but producing no sound. Color seemed to drain out of everything else in the room, leaving only each other vibrant to their eyes. Ron was millions of miles away to them, and he was forgotten in the crowd, his yells to Hermione lost in the bustle of the crowd. Both could hear the beating of their hearts, painfully loud in their ears.

Thump-thump.

Harry slowly grasped Hermione’s hands with tenderness.

Thump-thump.

Harry looked into Hermione’s eyes, his green meeting her brown.

Thump-thump. Thump-thump.

“Hermione,” Harry said solemnly, “I love you as a man loves a woman, as your father loves your mother. I love you so much it hurts me to ever be away from you.”

Thump-thump. Thump-thump. Thump-thump.

“I love you enough to know that you don’t feel as strongly as I do. I love you enough to let you be with whomever you love. I love you enough to let you go.”

He smiled again. “Thank you for the dance, Hermione.”

Thump-thump. Thump-thump. Thump-thump. Thump-thump. Thump-thump.

She read in his eyes what he would do moments before he moved. Still, for reasons she herself could not explain, she did not budge when Harry leaned down to kiss her.

It was sweet, soft, and gentle—and perfectly gentlemanly. Harry had kissed her on the cheek, as a brother would to his sister— as Harry had given to Hermione many times before in their lives. When he straightened once more, both had tears falling from their eyes. Something was being lost in that moment—and both of them knew it.

Harry smiled shakily despite his tears. He grazed her left cheek gently with the back of his hand, wiping away some of her tears.

“Good bye, Hermione. God bless you,” were Harry’s last words to the woman he had lived with, bickered with, cried with, laughed with, danced with, played with, and studied with for all of his life.

He disappeared.

At first, no reaction came from Harry’s disappearance. Everything continued normally, and only a few had noticed that the Hogwarts Head Boy had just gone AWOL. (Those who did had either two reactions: they either didn’t care, or they figured it was one of his odd tricks.) Hermione grasped at all the possibilities, unable to accept that he was gone.

The only thing he could have done was to use an invisibility spell of some kind, Hermione thought, her mind racing for answers. Everyone knows nobody can Apparate from Hogwarts, it's in Hogwarts, a History—

As if to mock her thoughts, an audible pop was heard all throughout the room, heard over all the other sounds—the telltale mark of an Apparation. Before anyone could question what that was all about, a horrendous ripping sound reverberated through the air. The ground shook violently, and the lights magically floating in the air flickered repeatedly before the Hall was overcome by darkness.

Hermione collapsed to the floor, unnoticed by anyone. Through all the chaos and confusion, all Hermione could do was cry. On that night, one supposed to be filled with happiness and revelry, she had received the greatest sorrow of her life. She hadn’t just lost a best friend and a brother; she had lost part of her soul.

Harry Disapparated into a stall of a restroom in London, away from all inquiring eyes. He stayed there for a few moments, trying to gather his senses together. He let himself cry for a few more minutes, in the privacy of the stall; then, with robotically short movements, he put the past away from his mind and changed clothes with the spare he had left in the restroom an hour earlier, during his preparations. After all, a Slytherin wasn’t a Slytherin if he couldn’t detach himself from his emotions.

When he was presentable once more (which included a Wrinkle-Remover spell and a spell to get rid of his tear streaks), he stepped out of the restroom and into King’s Cross station. He unlocked the restroom door, and removed the “Out Of Order” sign from its front. A few bystanders looked curiously at the young man who had stepped out of the restroom no one had seen him enter.

He checked his Muggle watch and saw that it was now ten thirty. Thirty minutes early, he mused as he found the patch of wall he had marked earlier, while making his preparations. He quickly cast an Avoidance Charm, muttering the incantation under his breath. When he was sure it was in effect, and that no Muggles could see him, he dispelled the Camouflage charm and retrieved his belongings. He mingled with the crowd in an instant, and made his way over to Platform 10.

He sat down on a bench and waited for the time to pass. Despite himself, he could feel tears start to well up behind his eyes. He shook his head furiously.

This is all for the best, Potter, he told himself. Best get used to it as soon as possible. Though… I could do without the damn memories. Just my damn luck, to have my Muggle train be so close to Platform 9 ¾…

He stared at the wall hiding the entrance to Platform 9 ¾ for a moment. He could remember so much from his life, and so much had to do with the girl he had left crying in the Great Hall…

END OF PROLOGUE

2. Beginnings

Author's Note: Because of complications with my work, I suddenly have a lot of free time over the next few months. This means I get to restart all those fics that I never finished. Here is an unbetaed version of Memories, Chapter 1 - the revised one will go up eventually, but I wanted to get some reader feedback on the way the story is going.

Hope you all enjoy this! I suggest reading the prologue again ^^

Memories, Chapter One: Beginnings

October 31, 1987

He had no idea where he was, really. He wasn�t even sure how the shaggy-looking man had known to come to 4 Privet Drive when he had begun to realize his aunt and uncle were gone for good. He had never seen the man before today, but something in his manner and his demeanor made him take the stranger�s hand and follow him out of the house that held such awkward memories for him. And at the end of the journey, here he was, standing in front of an unfamiliar house in an unfamiliar village, in front of people he had never seen before in his life.

�This is Mister and Missus Granger, Harry,� he heard, and he looked up at the pair smiling at him. The Grangers looked like people he could trust, but he still had a growing urge to jerk out from under the shaggy man�s hands and make a run for it. Only two things stopped him from running away. The first would have sounded completely mad if he tried to explain it to anyone, but he wanted to trust the man because he had made a bus appear just by raising his thumb. Just like New York cabs in those movies he had watched surreptitiously from the stairs. The second, more practical reason was that he had no idea where he was, and the man seemed to be a trustworthy chap. So he did what the adults expected him to do and smiled sheepishly back at the Grangers.

�It�s a pleasure to meet you, Harry. You�ll be staying with us for a while, and I hope you�ll learn to fit in with our family.� Mr. Granger- or was that Doctor Granger?- leaned down and shook Harry�s hand. At least he had a firm handshake � unlike his uncle � and his eyes looked warm behind his glasses � also unlike old Vernon. Harry let a small bud of hope blossom in his heart. Maybe, just maybe, it would turn out differently with these two.

Harry cleared his throat, a weak, small sound. �Hello, Mr. Granger. Hello, Mrs. Granger.� He paused there, suddenly filled with uncertainty. What was one supposed to say at a time like this? �Maybe you won�t abandon me to go to America, like my previous family did?�

During his hesitant pause, Mrs. Granger stepped forward and took his hand in hers. As if she could read Harry�s fear of the unknown in his eyes, she smiled kindly again and led Harry into the house. The house was behind a very clean dentists� Surgery, and it was nicely furnished. The living room had a huge bookcase that completely occupied one wall, and a piano occupied the other side of the room. The room (and the house) was not particularly big, but Harry liked it regardless.

�Harry, this is our daughter Hermione. I hope you two get along; she�ll be your classmate when you transfer to her school.�

Transfer? Harry thought. That clinches it. They are adopting me. That thought opened the gates to a flurry of emotions; fear, anger, joy, and even panic flooded his mind. So he did the only thing he could do, something he learned after years of emotional abuse from his relations- he forced his mind off of the matter, and instead looked at the daughter in question. Hermione was short and didn�t look athletic. She was dressed in nice, semi-formal clothes; it was obvious the Grangers had wanted to impress him.

She spoke first. �Harry Potter, is it? I�m Hermione Granger, and I hope you�ll like it here. I always did want a brother or someone that would live in the same house as me, so I would have someone I could walk home with together. Well, perhaps not exactly a brother but you know what I mean. I�ll do my best to help you get accustomed to the area. Do you like reading books? I think they�re marvelous.� She said all this very fast. She paused and looked at him for an answer, but Harry felt overwhelmed by the flood of words.

�Um.. well..� he said, flustered. The adults in the room laughed politely at Harry�s discomfiture. Mr. Granger laid a hand on Hermione�s shoulder.

�We�ll go to the kitchen and let you get acquainted. Come on, Remus.� The adults left Harry and Hermione alone in the room. As soon as the door closed, Harry moved immediately towards the wall next to the kitchen door, pretending to look earnestly at the family portrait that was on the wall. He strained his ears to see if he could catch any of the conversation within, to shine a light on who these people were. The door had been left slightly ajar and Harry could hear some of their words.

��going on, Remus?�

�This is the son of an old friend of mine, James Potter. He was under the charge of the Dursleys, and they just.. left him. I don�t know exactly what happened, but a colleague of mine��

�Wait�let me close the door properly, I�d forgotten the lock�s broken and leaves it open��

Harry turned to move away from the door so that Mr. Granger could not see him snooping. He was surprised when he came across Hermione, who had moved right behind him without even noticing.

In a voice much louder than usual, Hermione said, �Yes, that is our family. I�m an only child, as you can see�and not too many aunts and uncles in England. But I do realize things could be quite worse than it is already.� Harry stared at her blankly until the loud click of the lock echoed into the room. He turned around and stared at the kitchen door, and then turned and looked at Hermione again. She had a serious expression on her face; Harry immediately decided it was an appropriate look for her.

�Umm..� Harry stammered. �Thank you.�

Hermione smiled, her face brightening. �No problem.�

Harry didn�t feel so out of place anymore.

present day

The train to Cambridge came on schedule (for once), and Harry managed to get on it without any troubles. The train wasn�t very crowded, and people avoided sitting next to Harry when they took a look into his set expression. It was a very carefully practiced expression, made perfect by literally hours of practice in front of the mirror in the Slytherin common room. It was quite perfect for times like these, when a wizard just wanted to be alone.

Harry sighed. He had been so bewildered and out of place when he had met the Grangers�and Hermione, of course. He had looked at her and dismissed her for a bossy girl who talked too much. When she had immediately gone along � seen what he had wanted to do and followed suit, he realized she was quite more than that. And therein lay the problem. She was quite more than a lot of things.

Harry laid his head against the window and stared out at the scenery beginning to pass by. Things had gone quite tits-up, hadn�t they?

�He looked so lost when I first met him.�

�You know what, Hermione? I can�t really picture Potter as looking lost. Just can�t conjure it up in my head,� Lavender said.

Hermione smiled wistfully. �I know, doesn�t it seem that way? But we're all more vulnerable when we�re younger, I suppose, and Harry hadn�t learned about Voldemort�� Lavender shuddered at the name, even though she had watched him die��and he hadn�t been Slytherin. That changed him a lot, I�m sad to say.�

Lavender nodded. It was rather easy for her to picture Harry being changed because of his turning up to be a Slytherin. A Slytherin had been the salvation of the existence of the wizarding world, but prejudices born from generations could not be stamped out so easily. She looked at Hermione closely. �You know, you seem remarkably put together for someone whose best friend slash person who you�ve lived with for over 10 years told her he loves her.�

Hermione looked down. �I don�t know what I�m supposed to do. I don�t know how I can face him after graduation is over��

�Well,� Lavender said, �considering what he said to you, I don�t think you�ll have to worry about meeting him again.�

Hermione continued on as if uninterrupted. �I don�t know what I can do about what he said to me, and I don�t know what to do about�� She broke off suddenly and stood up from her bed. �Ron!�

Lavender stood up after her, somehow managing to look graceful while doing so. �Nice of you to remember your boyfriend. He�s waiting for you in the Common Room, and I say he doesn�t look very happy. Have you told him what Potter said to you yet?�

Hermione brooded over Lavender�s words as she walked out of her bedroom and into the Common Room. Ron was pacing in front of the fireplace; he had an almost ugly look on his face as he thought and worried. He looked up as soon as the door behind Hermione closed, and his face broke into a worried smile. He met Hermione halfway up the stairs and held her close to him.

�How are you feeling? Are you okay? Did he do anything to you?�

�What?� Hermione said and jerked away, shocked. �What do you mean?�

Ron�s face darkened again. �Potter,� he spat, making that single word a harsh epithet. �I was watching you two�and I know he said something or did something terrible to you. He did some sort of spell, I saw his hands moving that clever bastard. Just watch it, I�m going to pound him into the ground the next time I see him, that buggering��

�Ron!� Hermione interrupted. She paused when he looked at her intently. She said, �Harry didn�t say anything mean to me, and he didn�t cast any sort of spell on me. He just�he told me something that was unexpected. That�s all.�

�Well?�

�Well what?�

�What did he say to you?� Ron said impatiently.

Hermione blushed slightly and hoped furiously that Ron wouldn�t notice it. She said, �He told me that he wasn�t going to bother my parents anymore, that he got a flat somewhere else. He told me he�s not going to see me over the summer.�

Ron smiled. �Well, good riddance to bad rubbish. But that can�t have made you look the way you did. What else did he say?�

Hermione said in a forced-calm voice, �He told me that he was in love with me and that he had been in love with me for the last few years.� She braced inside for the anger that would no doubt erupt from Ron.

She wasn�t disappointed. Ron�s face turned many different colors, first pale, then gradually reddening until it matched the color of his hair. He sputtered for a bit, as if he couldn�t get the words straight in his mind. He paused a moment, gathered his thoughts, and spoke with an uncertain smile on his face.

�He must have been joking, right?� When Hermione didn�t smile back, he frowned. �But.. Potter�s a right nutter. You�re his sister, for Heaven�s sake!�

Hermione sighed. �I don�t know. He�s always been my best friend, and he�s always been there for me whenever I needed someone. But I�ve been thinking. He�s never called me sister, and he�s never called Mum and Dad anything but Mister and Missus Granger.� Ron didn�t look any convinced.

�That doesn�t change the fact that you two are as close as siblings! God, you and him would be like.. I dunno, Fred and George snogging.� He looked sick just at the thought of that. His eyes changed suddenly, and he asked, �Why have you been thinking? Surely you�re as sickened by his offer as I am?�

�You think I was expecting him to tell me that? Merlin!� Hermione frowned and poked a finger in his chest. �You know, I�ve avoided this talk for too damn long. Why do you hate Harry so? There�s no reason for it!�

�Oh, there are plenty of reasons.� Ron replied, and ticked the reasons off on his fingers as he went. �1. He�s a big slimy git. 2. He pretends to be so nice to you, but he isn�t good for you in the long run, I promise you that. There�s no reason why he would have been put in Slytherin otherwise��

�I�m sure you�ve noticed, but he killed the Dark Lord himself�� Hermione interrupted, her voice growing louder and angrier.

�And 3, he makes Gryffindor lose sometimes at Quidditch��

�Oh, sod your bloody Quidditch! I�ve lost a friend I�ve depended on for what seems like forever, and you�re sitting there holding a sodding grudge because of Quidditch? I�m so glad you have my interests at heart! I thank you for your interest, now you can just piss off!�

Ignoring the few Gryffindors who had been awake to witness their argument, Hermione stalked out of the Common Room and out the portrait door.

�Your ticket, sir?�

Harry handed the man his ticket without answering and without a smile, and he took the hint. As soon as he had verified Harry�s ticket, he handed it back and left the teenager alone to brood.

The problem really wasn�t what to do now; he had planned things out perfectly. He had a job lined up and a flat and even had enrolled on courses at the university nearby. He had researched and found (the thought that Hermione would have been proud flitted across his brain, and it didn�t hurt as much as it should have) a potion that would allow him to continually change his appearance. No one would be able to track him down.

Harry shouldered his bag and walked off the train station. He stared out at Cambridge, stretched out before him. The flat he had rented was only a few blocks from the university he had enrolled in. As he walked to it he ran into college students celebrating their impending graduation with the traditional beer, and more beer. It didn't exactly fit Harry�s mood. If he had his way, he would have walked through blocks and blocks of dark and empty streets to his destination. Since he couldn�t, he settled for a set, angry expression that made the crowds avoid the brooding teenager. After a few moments, he walked along the shadows of the buildings; he felt more at ease there than in the street bathed by lights from the open doors of pubs.

Just his luck, the elevator was broken. Harry walked up the five flights of stairs without complaint. Four different sets of wards told Harry no one had entered his room in a month when he had rented the place. Harry reset the security charms after he entered. Some of the craziest Death Eaters were still on the loose, and Harry knew they were looking to avenge their fallen master.

He put his bags down in the middle of the living room, and looked around. He had nothing to do, nothing to occupy his mind. He had planned out the Disappearance too well; every possible outcome had already been so carefully prepared for he had forgotten about what emotional state he would be in after the Disappearance.

Ridiculous, Harry thought. I don�t even have a TV here or a Wizarding Wireless to idle time away. He couldn�t go out to buy supplies because he already stocked three months of food in the back. All he had left to do, really, was to sleep.

But though he lay in his bed, sleep seemed virtually impossible to him. When he stared up at the ceiling, he heard Voldemort�s crackling, sickly laughter echoing in his mind. When he closed his eyes, visions of his times with Hermione danced in front of him, mocking him.

Harry carefully weighed the options, and chose to close his eyes.

November 13, 1989

�So how do you like our town?� Hermione asked as they walked to school.

�It�s a nice place,� Harry replied. �Your parents have been lovely to me. I hope I can someday repay them for all they�ve done for me.�

Hermione waved the comment away. �I think they�ve always wanted another kid, but they couldn�t.� Harry didn�t reply, and they were silent for a block. Hermione suddenly turned to Harry. �Oh! Did you remember to bring the library books? They�re due soon, and I think we should get the next books in the series, and it�s always a good idea to return things early if you�re finished��

�Yes I did, Miss Smartypants,� Harry interrupted, smiling.

Hermione shook her head. �Make fun, but it�s not good to break promises. The due date for a library book is an unspoken promise between the library and us, for us to return the books by that time and unharmed.� Hermione broke from her solemn image with a grin that showed off her braces. �And silly Harry, I can�t be Miss Smartypants.� She gestured to her uniform and her skirt.

�Fine,� Harry said, grinning mischievously, �then you�re just Smarty.�

Hermione reached over and roughed up his perpetually messy hair. �Okay, Scruffy.� There was a brief tousle as they tried to tickle the other and mess each other�s hair. Finally, they broke off with an unspoken agreement to let each other be (until next time). They began walking towards school once more.

�Harry?�

�Yes, Hermione?�

�Really. Promise me you won�t break promises?�

�I won�t, Smarty. Ever.�

They smiled at each other and continued to walk toward the school in a comfortable silence. After a few minutes, Harry started to look around at the street, bored by the routine. He finally stopped to climb up a nearby fencepost. Hermione looked on with amusement.

�What are you doing?� She asked, with laughter behind her voice.

�Nothing,� Harry replied, and started to walk on the fence posts toward the school. A few moments passed with Harry walking on the fence and Hermione walking beside him on the street. Hermione walked up to him with hands raised.

�What?� Harry asked.

�Help me up.�

Harry spluttered. �But- but you�re wearing a skirt!�

�So?� Hermione said. �No one else is on this street right now, and you look like you�re having fun. I want to give it a try!� She stood on tiptoe and insistently pushed her hand toward him. After a moment, Harry grabbed her hand and helped her climb up. He watched her walk uncertainly in front of him.

�Cor,� Harry said, �you�re the greatest girl in the world, Hermione.� She smiled at him in response. They jumped off the fence together and ran the rest of the way to school.

�Are you all right, Hermione?�

�Did your brother send you to apologize, Ginny?�

�No, not quite. He does want me to tell you that he knows he was out of line. I chose to come here on my own.� Ginny carefully made her way through the dense plants to reach Hermione�s refuge. It was a secret place only a select few knew; Hermione had shown Ginny the place when she had broken up with Dean Thomas last year. It was a beautiful place; surrounded by exotic and (some) magical plants, light shining on the red marble steps in the middle. It was a wonderful place to relax.

Hermione was exactly where Ginny expected her to be. She was sitting on the second step, right next to the Seductive Fireflowers that Neville had given Ginny as a Christmas gift a few years back. Her hand was outstretched, and the blossoms of the flowers were slowly caressing and entwining with her fingers. It was a lovely sight, but Ginny noticed that Hermione�s expression was far from relaxed.

�You know he means it, Hermione.�

�I know.� Hermione sighed. �I know he means it every time we have a row. I once told him that he was the most insensitive wart I ever had the misfortune to meet. I love him, but he hasn�t changed a bit.�

�Ain�t that the truth.� Ginny sat down next to her and put her arms around Hermione�s shoulders. �You avoided my question twice. Did Harry teach you that one?�

Hermione frowned and withdrew her hand from the blossoms gently. The blossoms let her hand go slowly, as if reluctant to leave her. They started to cry softly, something both girls ignored from experience. �No, I�m not okay. I can�t believe this is happening. I can�t believe Voldemort is finally out of our lives forever, and that Harry might be too. I can�t believe Harry said..� Hermione blushed. She continued in a lowered voice, �that he said what he said.�

�Did he tell you he loved you?�

Hermione�s head jerked up. �How-?�

Ginny smiled wanly. �When you have a crush on someone for the better part of three years, you notice things. The way he looked at you sometimes when you weren�t looking..�

Hermione didn�t ask. �What am I going to tell Mum and Dad tomorrow at King�s Cross?�

�You can tell them the truth,� Ginny said, �that Harry�s being a prat and he�ll be back when he�s done having a good sulk.�

�Ginny!� Hermione said, half amused, half shocked.

Ginny shrugged. �What? We both know it�s true. Don�t you think Harry did this whole thing rather melodramatically? Defeating the evilest wizard in the history of evil wizards, then telling his best friend he loves her and then disappearing? I bet Harry researched in the Restricted Section for months to pull off that Disapparating from Hogwarts trick. Maybe he wanted to be noted in Hogwarts, A History so that he�d be sure of you reading up on him.�

They giggled together, and Ginny felt that her friend would come out all right from the debacle.

�Harry always did have a dramatic streak in him. Did I ever tell you about the time he tried to �defend my honor� from a couple of bullies? He��

The whole playground grew quiet. Not many in the class cared much for the bossy, too-smart-for-her-own-good girl. Few would consider Hermione a friend, but that was an insult harsher than most people would want to say to the girl. They all watched Hermione�s face grow pale from the insult, her eyes beginning to tear up. Matt Newhouse and his cronies started to grin at the sight; they were the typical British school bullies who reveled in the suffering of those smaller than they.

The four bullies did not notice the small, scrawny boy jump off from the swings across the schoolyard. The boy ran toward the five; instinctively, the rest of the schoolchildren started to circle around them looking for the fight, like hyenas gathering at a fresh kill.

Matt smiled viciously and opened his mouth to throw yet another jibe at the girl. He heard a cough from behind him, and as he and his group turned Harry punched him in the face. As Matt reeled back (more from surprise than actual pain) Harry leapt on him like an enraged alley cat.

It was really no contest from the beginning. Harry was small for his age, Matt and his goons were a year older than him, and to add insult to injury, they felt no remorse at beating on him at the same time. None of these facts stopped Harry from his attempt to maim Matt for life. Harry screamed obscenities at him; he rained down punches on his face, his chest, his arms; he tried to kick and knee him in the crotch repeatedly; he scratched, he bit, and he spat in Matt�s face. By the time teachers broke up the fight Harry was a complete mess�but so was Matt.

They were all�even Hermione�carted off to the principal in a rush. The teachers dragged them through the halls, simultaneously fussing over the injuries the boys had and scolding them for their clearly satanic behavior. The bullies were used to the lecture of course, having heard it countless times through the years, but Hermione and Harry had never heard the lecture before. They listened.

The teachers conversed with each other, then herded the larger boys in first. Harry and Hermione's homeroom teacher waited with them outside for the principal to call for their appearance.

"I can't believe you did this, Harry, you know better than this!" Mrs. Hanson said, fussing over the cuts and bruises that disguised Harry's face. "There are better ways to get results than fighting, Harry, you shouldn't do anything like this ever again." He nodded mechanically.

"Stephanie? I need your help here a bit," an office lady said.

Mrs. Hanson turned around and said, "Be right there, Emily." She turned back to the children, and said, "you two stay here." She walked toward her colleague, and left Harry and Hermione alone on the bench outside the principal's office.

Hermione sniffed, and Harry turned and finally noticed she was on the verge of crying.

�Hermione, what�s wrong?� Harry asked rather obtusely.

Hermione hit his arm with all the force she could muster. �What do you mean, what�s wrong? Are you stupid? They destroyed your face!�

Harry�s face became a study of emotions warring to be the victor, and in the end, incredulousness and indignity won out. �But- but they said - Hermione-"

She hit him again, then hid her face with her hands. Muffled sobs came from her. Harry stared at her, bewildered.

"I - I-" He stopped. "I'm sorry, Hermione," he said.

There was no answer. He reached out to her and win