Title: Father's Day
Rating: R
Disclaimer: Harry Potter and associated characters are owned by J.K.R.; Warner Bros.; Raincoast Books; and/or Scholastic books.
Author's Notes: I'm glad I got such positive response from my last chapter. I estimate there are probably another 5 or 6 chapters left in this story. I'm still not 100 percent sure. Updates will probably come slower now - school is starting to pick up pace so my time is limited.
Chapter 10: Rough Departures
Harry Potter rolled on his stomach, a happy grin crossing his face as his arm came into contact with bare skin. He was tired - more tired than he'd been during all his years of chasing Dark Wizards - but he wouldn't have it any other way.
"What are you laughing about, Mr. Potter?"
Harry opened his eyes, his blurry vision settling on the petite form of the woman across from him. His left hand shifted uncomfortably towards the bed stand until his fingertips closed around the bridge of his glasses, and he pulled them on. His focus sharpened on the form of his best friend. Hermione was staring at him, a bemused expression on her face. The blankets covering her were slipping dangerously low, barely protecting her modesty - not that it mattered much, anymore. Harry smiled, slipping his fingertips beneath the blankets, slowly creeping their way across the mattress until they came to rest on the bare skin of her hip. His grin broadened as the brown-haired witch gave a slight shudder at his skin came into contact with hers.
"Honestly Harry, you are positively insatiable."
"Me? What about you Miss Let's-Sneak-To-Professor-Potter's-Bedroom-On-A-Nightly-Basis-and-give-the-school-something-to-really-talk-about…" Harry winced as Hermione smacked him on the bicep. She drew the sheet across her chest as she began to move out of the bed, shaking her head lightly in mock indignation.
"Well, if you don't enjoy it, I can always find better ways to occupy my evenings," Hermione chastised. Harry snapped his wrist out with seeker-like reflexes and grabbed her right wrist in his hand.
"Where do you think you're going?" he whined, rolling onto his back and giving her a light pout. Hermione rolled her eyes.
"I'm going to get dressed and return to my quarters. I do have lessons to prepare, you know."
"It's Saturday."
"All the reason to prepare them now. I've fallen dangerously behind ever since we returned from break three weeks ago. You are a bad influence on me, Mr. Potter."
Harry jerked on her wrist, pulling Hermione back onto the bed and onto his chest. She gave a slight "oomph" as she fell against him, and Harry fiercely captured her lips with his own.
"Now who's complaining?" Harry whispered, his hand still clamped on her wrist as he wriggled his hips against hers. Hermione gritted her teeth, narrowing her gaze for a fraction of a moment as her hips came into contact with his. Then a sickly sweet smile crossed her face and she stared at Harry's face mischievously.
"Why Mr. Potter, whatever would Headmistress McGonagall say if she could see you trying to seduce one of her instructors?"
Harry groaned, releasing Hermione's wrist and rolling onto his side. His arms wrapped around his middle as he feigned sickness. "You really know how to kill a guy's mood."
The mahogany-haired witch smirked in triumph, gathering the covers around her body again. Harry leveled his emerald gaze on hers, his eyes narrowing as he jerked the covers forcefully out of her hands and lunged for her, pinning her beneath his body.
"Now you're going to have to erase that mental image, Granger," Harry whispered, giving her shoulder a light nip. Hermione rolled her eyes.
"Honestly Harry, don't you think that the Headmistress had her fair share of suitors during her younger years?"
Ouch, I deserved that, Harry winced inwardly. Groaning he rolled off Hermione and onto his stomach.
"Fine, go ahead and work - it's only a Saturday. I'm sure I can find more entertaining things to do - like hold Artie's hand while he tries to get on the broom."
"I'm certain he'd enjoy spending some time with you," Hermione said, pulling on her jeans. "He's barely been able to look at us after that … incident the day after Christmas."
Harry smiled. The incident referred to Artie's impromptu walk-in on him and Hermione the morning after Christmas. Though nothing had been going on at the moment, he'd caught them in a fairly compromising position that had brought a blush to Hermione's face only a few shades lighter than Artie's - whose face strongly resembled a ripe tomato."
"He never did come into the room without knocking again," Harry pointed out, though he secretly felt badly for the boy - he didn't want to think about what would have run through his mind if he'd stormed in on Mr. and Mrs. Weasley … Harry shuddered. Hermione rolled her eyes as she began buttoning up her white blouse.
"I still think you should spend some time with him. You don't want him to get jealous of our relationship, do you?" Hermione asked as Harry rolled out of the bed, little goose bumps forming on his flesh from the chill air of his bedroom. In a couple of strides he closed the distance him and Hermione, his hands clasping over hers as he gave her a mischievous grin.
"Here, let me help you with that," he said, his fingertips working deftly to finish buttoning up the remnants of her blouse. Hermione rolled her eyes, smiling at Harry as he finished help getting her dressed.
"Thank you, Harry, but I think I can get dressed on my own," she chastised lightly. Harry's grin broadened, being fully aware of Hermione's capabilities but relishing the opportunity to fluster the younger woman. He dipped his head down, brushing his lips lightly against hers. His grin broadened as her breath caught in her throat, fully aware that she could feel his body pressed against her. Then, just as quickly, he ended the kiss, his eyes twinkling as he stared at her slightly parted lips and blush-tinged cheeks.
"I know, but I wanted to remind you that I have many talents, not all of which you have discovered," Harry whispered, suppressing the urge to laugh as Hermione's cheeks grew even redder at the insinuation.
The urge was short lived. In less than a second Hermione's lips crashed to his, surprising Harry as she kissed him with renewed further. Waves of shock and pleasure rippled through his body as he felt Hermione push him back to the bed, climbing atop of him as she regarded him with a slight smile.
"Now you've got me curious as to what you've been holding back, Mr. Potter," she said with a seductive grin, canting her hips just slightly and drawing a groan from Harry. He squeezed his eyes shut for a brief moment, gathering his composure before his hands slid around the waist of her jeans.
"With a request like that, how can I refuse?" Harry said, pulling her mouth against his as he kissed her again…
…only to be interrupted by the sound of a knocking on his doorway.
"Oh bloody hell," Harry muttered as Hermione rolled off of him, a furious blush crossing her features. She quickly began straightening her blouse as Harry fumbled for his bathrobe and hastily threw it on.
"Harry," Hermione hissed warningly. "You cannot answer the door like that!"
"Why not?" Harry protested. "It's just Artie," he muttered, watching as Hermione snuck out of view of the doorway the moment he threw it open, revealing a wide-eyed and furiously blushing Amelia. Harry felt his face pale slightly. Oh for the love of…
"I - I'm I'm sorry to wake you up - I mean I just - I thought - you might want to remember you were supposed to meet with Artie - and - um…" she said this all very quickly, staring at the floor the entire time.
Harry's initial shock faded as horror flooded his body. He was supposed to meet with Artie today! Hurriedly, Harry glanced at his watch - half hour late already. Harry bit back the string of curses that came to mind as he gave Amelia a slight nod.
"Thank you. Can you tell Artie I'll be right there?" He asked. Amelia nodded, practically racing back down the hallway as if she could not get away fast enough. Harry closed the door, muttering a few curses under his breath as his green-eyed gaze fell on Hermione. She shook her head lightly.
"You're going to ruin the relationship you have with him if you keep this up," Hermione chastised.
"I know, I know," Harry muttered as he scrambled throw on yesterday's clothes.
* * *
Harry sprinted to the spot where he and Artie usually met. It was a small clearing on the northernmost edge of the Hogwarts grounds. Harry had chosen this place because it was far enough from prying eyes to give him and Artie a much needed bit of privacy, yet close enough to the school that they could both make it with a relatively short walk. Of course, now Harry was taking it at a dead run, he made it in a matter of five minutes - though he thought his lungs might explode from the exertion.
Artie was sitting on a fallen log, his back to Harry. Resting against the rotting log was the handle of Harry's broom.
"You're late again," Artie said, not bothering to look at Harry.
"Sorry," Harry gasped between ragged breaths. "Won't happen again."
"That's what you said the last time," Artie mumbled, though it was a bit of a strain for Harry to hear it. Pressing a hand to the jabbing pain in his side, Harry winced as he stood up. He opened his mouth to apologize again to Artie, but before he could say anything, Artie stood up and grabbed the Firebolt.
"Let's get this over with," he muttered, swinging a leg over the handle and looking at Harry. Harry arched an eyebrow at Artie's sudden enthusiasm, but shrugged it off as nodded. A second later Artie had pushed off cautiously, circling the ground at around five feet. Harry nodded, impressed that Artie had made such strides.
"Why not try a little higher," Harry asked. Artie gave him a quick glance, his face paling, and Harry frowned, reaching into his pocket, pulling out a Rememberall he'd purchased the last time he was at Diagon Alley. "Here, catch."
Artie's eyes widened as the sphere went sailing towards him. The young wizard twisted his body a bit, his left hand gripping the handle of his broom in a death grip as his right hand caught the Rememberall. A smile crossed Harry's face as Artie caught the device.
"What was that for?" Artie said with a frown. Harry's grin broadened.
"Look at your hands."
Artie glanced down, his eyes widening as he saw he'd inadvertently moved up to catch the Rememberall. Harry watched as a smile crept its way across Artie's face.
"I did it," Artie whispered, his eyes filled with awe. Harry simply nodded and watched, partly in surprise, partly in wonder, as Artie tugged the nose of the broom up higher, his eyes widening as he rose another three feet. He was now hovering roughly a foot above Harry's head level.
"Yes, you did," Harry said with a grin. Artie grinned back, his anger at Harry apparently forgotten as he made slow circles with the broom, circling higher and higher until he was a good twenty feet off the ground. Harry leaned against the shade of a willow tree, watching the younger boy with a smile. Artie leaned forward, zooming towards Harry on the Firebolt. He pulled up just short of Harry.
"Enjoying yourself, Artie?" Harry asked with a grin. A huge grin spread across Artie's face and the young redhead nodded his head lightly. Harry couldn't help but smile, relieved that Artie finally had gotten over his fear of the broom. It just hadn't felt natural - Ron's son being scared of flying.
Then Harry remembered he owed the younger boy an apology, and his smile slowly faded. "Artie," Harry said quietly, "I'm sorry I was late today."
The grin faded off Artie's face as the boy slowly touched the ground again.
"You were with her again, weren't you?" Artie said, slowly hopping off the Firebolt. Harry frowned, pursing his lips. He could lie, he supposed, but somehow he didn't think that would be right. The Dursleys had lied to him most of his life, and Harry remembered all-too-well the feelings of betrayal when he realized the truth.
So Harry looked Artie straight in the eye, giving the younger boy a slight nod. Artie's frown deepened.
"I knew it," he muttered, kicking his leg back over the Firebolt. Harry opened his mouth to try to explain, but then, realizing he really didn't have a good explanation he closed it again. Artie took off on the Firebolt, heading back towards the castle. Harry watched him disappear into the distance, offering up a little sigh as he headed back towards the castle. It was a long walk back to Hogwarts.
When Harry got back to the castle, he thought for a moment of heading to Gryffindor House and trying to speak to Artie. But he reasoned that the best thing to do at the moment would be to leave him alone. After all, he already got teased for being the godson of the famous Harry Potter. How embarrassing would it be for Harry to show up in Gryffindor house?
Instead, he made his way to Hermione's room, secretly wondering if he would be able to pull her away from her work. A niggling voice in the back of his mind chided him for allowing his own lesson preparation to fall by the wayside, but he brushed it off. He had the entire weekend to work.
Quickly muttering the password for the statue protecting Hermione's quarters, Harry quickly made his way down the hallway, not bothering to knock on the door to Hermione's room.
Hermione was hunched over her desk, scribbling furiously with her quill as Harry approached her. He'd closed the distance between them to one meter when Hermione finally spoke up.
"Harry, good, you're here."
Harry froze, shaking his head incredulously. "How did you…?"
"You're the only one who knows my password."
"Oh," Harry said, his shoulders slumping a bit. "I guess you're right." He stepped up behind Hermione, dropping to a knee beside her chair. He glanced over what appeared to be pages of schedules of lesson plans, stretching until the middle of the next month. A grin spread across Harry's face - that was Hermione - always over prepared.
"Did you have a good time with Artie?" she asked, still writing on her schedule.
"He's not scared of flying anymore," Harry said cautiously, not quite willing to let Hermione know how upset Artie had been.
"That's good," Hermione said absently, pressing the back of her quill against her mouth. She slid a piece of paper underneath Harry's hand. Harry took it, frowning as his green eyes glanced over it. Two strings of numbers were scribbled across the middle of the parchment.
"What is this?" Harry asked, furrowing his eyebrows in confusion. Only when he said this did Hermione finally stop writing, drawing her eyes away from her schedule. A sly grin spread across her face.
"This is your code," she said. Harry's eyes widened as he glanced from the paper back to Hermione and back to the paper again.
"The code! The one the Deatheater was carrying?"
At Hermione's nod, Harry's face broke into a broad smile and he swept her up, twirling her around in a hug.
"You're absolutely brilliant … How did you … no, wait, I probably don't want to know," Harry said, thinking that any explanation from Hermione on how she cracked the code would take longer to explain than one of Professor Binn's lectures, and probably would make less sense.
"It wasn't easy," Hermione said sheepishly. "The code was actually written backwards and upside down, so until I saw its reflection in a mirror I didn't recognize that it was based on a Celtic rune pattern from the third century."
Harry stared at Hermione, shaking his head. "How did you figure that out?"
Hermione blushed. "Well, it was a bit of luck, I guess."
The raven-haired wizard shook his head. "Less luck than your brilliance, I imagine. Great, we can take this to Kingsley right away!"
The mahogany-haired witch stepped back. "What do you mean 'we'? I can't possibly go today Harry. I'm months behind on my lesson plans and I have to prepare for next Monday's staff meeting."
"But Hermione, that's not until Monday!"
"Yes," Hermione said, impatience etched in her voice. "And that's why I have to start preparing now."
"Kingsley will want to speak with you," Harry protested, though he realized that most of Kingsley's correspondence could take place via owls. "He'll have questions about the code."
"Harry, I don't know anything more than what I've told you," Hermione said testily, drawing back from Harry. Her chocolate gaze flickered over his. "I'm a teacher, not an Auror. My primary responsibility is to Hogwarts and my students."
"But …"
"This is not up for discussion," Hermione cut him off, her voice raised a bit. Harry's mouth clamped shut, and he gripped the parchment tightly in his right hand, but he nodded.
"Fine," Harry said curtly, inwardly wincing at how harsh his voice sounded. It's not her fault, he told himself, trying to stifle anger he felt at her lack of enthusiasm for finding Ron's killer. It was irrational, he knew. Hermione wanted to find the person as badly as Harry did. She's just stressed, he thought. She's been under a lot of pressure lately.
Still, he didn't offer an apology and he didn't say another word as he left the room.
* * *
Kingsley's desk even messier than he remembered it, if that was at all possible. Harry could barely see the graying wizard over the stacks of wanted posters and parchments and letters of correspondence.
"Harry, am I glad to see you," Kingsley said, his voice strangely muffled. A moment later Harry found out why. Kingsley had at least three quills stuck in his mouth as he rummaged through the drawer of his desk. A second later he emerged and handed Harry a piece of parchment.
Harry frowned, scanning over the parchment briefly. It appeared to be a correspondence between two Deatheaters, though Harry was not positive how it'd been intercepted. He glanced at Kingsley, who pulled the quills out of his mouth.
"We think these orders come from the source of the Deatheater's funding," Kingsley said. Harry's eyes widened. These orders were not just from any Deatheater - they were from the head of the Deatheaters.
"This is fantastic," Harry said, excitement bubbling through his veins. This was a huge breakthrough. A twinge of jealousy passed through his body when he realized that he would not be able to follow up on this lead - he'd give up anything to be the one who cracked the Deatheater's main cell.
"Oh, I almost forgot," Harry piped up, handing the parchment to Kingsley. The older wizard studied the numbers with a frown.
"And this is…?"
"Hermione broke the code."
A momentary look of confusion passed through Kingsley's eyes; then recognition flashed. A huge grin spread across his features as he handed the parchment back to Harry.
"Good, then you can follow up on it," Kingsley said with a grin. Harry's eyes widened as he stared at his former supervisor.
"What did you say?" Harry asked. Had he heard Kingsley right?
"You heard me," Kingsley said. "I'm reinstating you immediately. I need my best Auror on this case."
Harry's jaw dropped. "But what about Hogwarts and my teaching job? You put me on leave!"
"Yes, well that was before this breakthrough," Kingsley said, quickly scribbling a note on a piece of parchment. A second later he folded the paper and handed it to Harry. "Give this to Minerva. I'm sure she'll find someone else to replace you - maybe she can handle the class for the last few months."
Harry's mind began to swim. Excitement flooded his body at the prospects of returning to his job - the only one he'd ever wanted. This was what he had been born to do. At the same time, a guilty twinge passed through his body. Artie would not be happy about Harry leaving, but maybe he wouldn't mind. After all, a lot of the kids teased him about having the great Harry Potter as a godfather. Maybe Artie would be better off without his guardian at Hogwarts. After all, Harry had done just fine without Sirius.
His mind flickered to Hermione. She'll be excited, Harry thought. This will be a real chance for me to get out and find the people responsible for Ron's death.
A warm glow spread through Harry's body as he jumped to his feet, giving Kingsley a cursory nod before racing back to the fireplace so he could floo back to Hogwarts.
* * *
Harry's first instinct was to run to Hermione's room and share the good news, but first he thought that maybe he better speak to Artie. So Harry made his way to the Gryffindor common room, waving hello to the Fat Lady and hurriedly saying the password ("Chocolate Frogs") to get inside.
Artie, Todd, and Amelia were crowded around a table, a pile of books stacked around them. Well, around Amelia mostly. Artie and Todd appeared to be tossing wads of parchment at each other.
Then Todd's gaze flashed over to the common room entrance, and his face paled slightly. He quickly tugged on Amelia's arm, and she gave him a sheepish, almost guilty grin. Harry made a quick mental note as she shoved a piece of parchment underneath a notebook. He ignored it for now, instead focusing his gaze at Artie, who had a strange mix of horror and embarrassment on his face at Harry's presence.
"Can I speak to you for a moment, Artie?"
The young Gryffindor glanced at his friends, both of whom regarded him with wide-eyed stares and gave him a cursory nod. Artie grimaced, sliding off his chair and trudging his way over to Harry. Amelia quickly scooped up the books. She poked Todd, who appeared to be settling in to listen in on the conversation, and after giving her a sheepish grin, the two made their way to the dormitories.
"Artie, there's something I want to talk to you about," Harry said.
"I didn't do it," Artie said, rather quickly. Harry frowned, giving him a confused stare. What was Artie hiding?
"What do you mean, you didn't do it?" Harry probed, crossing his arms in front of his chest. Artie's eyes widened slightly.
"Oh, um, nothing. What did you need to talk to me about?"
Harry frowned, wondering for a moment if he should continue this line of inquiry, but then decided that could wait for another time.
"I managed to talk to my supervisor today," Harry said quietly. "He would like me to come back to my job as an Auror."
It was almost imperceptible, but Harry noted that Artie's body stiffened just a bit at that revelation.
"That's … great, Harry," Artie said slowly; a small, forced smile coming to his face. "Will you be leaving at the end of term then?"
"Actually, he wanted me to start immediately," Harry said slowly, a bit relieved at the smile on Artie's face - seemingly oblivious to the negative connotation of his stance.
"But … you're a teacher … what about your classes?" Artie stuttered, his eyes widening.
"That's what I need to talk to Headmistress McGonagall about. It's possible she may be able to take over for me while I work on this case."
"So you're leaving then," Artie said, surprising Harry by the amount of bitterness in his voice. Harry frowned internally - why was Artie so upset? Harry knew he was bothered by the teasing from the other kids, though any time Harry offered to speak to the others, Artie blatantly refused.
"I think so," Harry said cautiously, catching the tight squeeze of Artie's fist in the corner of his eye. Quickly, he added, "Look at it this way - now you won't be teased by the kids anymore about having me as a teacher."
Artie straightened to his full height, his lips pressing together in a thin line. "Yeah, great. I've got to go," he muttered. And before Harry could utter another word, Artie fled up the steps to the dormitories.
Harry let out a small sigh, shaking his head as he headed out the Gryffindor common room. Confusion flowed through his body as he tried to reason through Artie's reaction in his mind. His reaction seemed completely foreign to Harry. Surely Artie knew Harry would have to return to his regular job sometime. Artie would be just like any other normal student - he'd spend holidays and summers with Harry, and return to Hogwarts for the school year.
Maybe Hermione will be able to shed some light on this, Harry thought to himself as he made his way to her quarters. He knocked cautiously on her door.
"Come in."
Harry stepped inside. Hermione was still hunched over her desk, flipping through a copy of An Advanced Guide to Transfiguration.
"Hey Hermione," Harry said, a smile crossing his features. "Do you have a minute?"
Hermione set the book down, turning in her chair and regarding Harry with a light smile. "Back so soon? You've scarcely been gone a few hours. So is Kingsley excited?"
Harry grinned. Somehow he knew Hermione would be excited over the news. "He's more than excited," Harry grinned, stepping up to Hermione and drawing her in a hug. "He's asked me to come back to work."
Hermione stiffened in his arms. Harry frowned, looking down at her with his green-eyed gaze. The expression on her face was completely indiscernible.
"Come back to work?" Hermione asked cautiously. "When?"
"As soon as possible," Harry said, silently wondering if this was such a good idea after all. Hermione stepped back from his hug and Harry allowed his arms to fall loosely by his sides. "I thought I'd ask talk to McGonagall about finding a replacement."
"Harry, you know how hard it is to find teachers to teach the DADA class," Hermione said, shaking her head incredulously. The smile left Harry's features. Hermione appeared - almost hurt.
"I'm sure McGonagall can teach it," Harry said quietly. "I'll make sure to finish my lesson plans for the year before I leave." Hermione looked away, her gaze drifting to the ground as she pressed her lips together and closed her eyes. Then she looked back at Harry. The former Auror's breath caught in his throat at the bright appearance of her eyes.
"What about Artie?" Hermione asked.
"What," Harry asked, raising his hands, exasperated. "He'll be just like all the other Hogwarts kids now," he said. "Isn't that what every eleven-year-old wants?"
Hermione closed her eyes, inhaling deeply. A frown deepened across Harry's features as a feeling of dread began to build in his body. This was not going at all like he expected.
What does she want me to do? Quit my job? I'm not a teacher. I'm an Auror!
He gave a slight sigh of relief when Hermione opened her eyes again. Her eyes were dry.
"That's great, Harry," Hermione said quietly. "I really need to get ready for dinner. See you later in the Great Hall?"
Harry frowned, a niggling feeling tugging at the back of his mind. Maybe he should give her time to get used to the idea, he thought. He stepped towards the shorter woman, giving her a light kiss on the forehead.
"Don't worry," Harry said quietly. "And I'll see you at dinner."
* * *
But Harry didn't see her at dinner; and when he went to her room later that evening, Hermione was nowhere to be found. A deep feeling of foreboding settled into his stomach as he made his way back to his quarters. His mind was swimming as Harry began to search through his room for his copy of the Marauder's map, intent on locating Hermione and finding out what exactly was bothering her.
His map was nowhere to be found.
Frustration built up in his body as Harry threw items out of his trunk, trying to remember where he might have placed it. But it wasn't in his trunk. Harry growled in frustration, tossing a sneaker over his shoulder.
"Ouch!"
Harry's head jerked up, glancing over his shoulder to the place where the voice had come from. Hermione was standing there, rubbing her forehead with her right hand. Her left hand held Harry's sneaker. A flush came across Harry's features.
"Sorry, Hermione, can't find my map anywhere," Harry said quickly, rising to his feet and crossing the room towards her. He took the sneaker from her hand and tossed it to the side of the room, looking at the witch in front of him. Hermione's hair was disheveled, and her clothes appeared a mess. Her eyes were red-rimmed, as if she'd been crying. A sinking feeling settled into the pit of his stomach.
"Hermione?" Harry whispered quietly. "What's wrong?"
The younger woman's eyes squeezed shut. Hermione bit her lower lip, taking a few deep breaths before she opened her eyes and met Harry's gaze dead-on. Harry's eyes widened and he reached out, brushing the back of his fingertips across her cheeks and sliding his right arm around her waist. He slowly drew Hermione to his chest, feeling her reluctance as she rested her head on his chest. A sob escaped her throat and Harry felt his heart break at the sound of her tears.
She doesn't want me to go.
"Hermione, what is it?" Harry whispered, stroking her back with the fingertips of his right hand. The tearful woman sniffed, drawing back from Harry's hold, and taking a few steps back. She drew her hands over her eyes, wiping away a few tears as she shook her head lightly. Harry stared at her helplessly, his sense of dread heightening at the expression in her eyes. Hermione appeared positively miserable.
"I …," Hermione paused, inhaling sharply as she fought to regain control of her voice. She looked back at Harry, her eyes brimming with tears.
"I can't do this, Harry."
Harry's throat ran dry. Somewhere a voice in the back of his head screamed, but it was immediately silenced as he stared blankly at the woman in front of him.
"Can't do … Hermione, what are you talking about?" Harry asked, a hint of desperation in his voice. This isn't happening. This can't be happening.
"I … I can't do this," Hermione said, her voice nearly breaking on the last word. She beckoned between her body and Harry's. "I can't … I can't be with you." Harry felt his heart drop out of his chest.
"I… Hermione, what are you talking about?" Harry felt the desperation tug at his stomach as he reached out towards the brown-eyed witch, but Hermione stepped just out of his reach, not even bothering to stifle the tears that now poured freely down her face.
"Harry, please don't make this any harder than it already is," Hermione whispered, her voice tinged with pain. "This isn't easy for me."
"Not easy for you!" Harry yelled, his voice rising. "What about me?"
"I know, Harry, and I'm sorry," she whispered, her eyes squinting shut. "I can't do this though. I can't just … wait here while you go away again and risk your life like that."
"This is what I am Hermione," Harry countered, his anger rising. "You knew that this job was only temporary!"
"Harry, I know this," Hermione said, her voice a strained silence against Harry's tirades. "But things have changed. I can't do this anymore. I can't be with someone who may not be coming home in the evening. I can't spend my days worrying about whether or not the next owl I get from the ministry will be announcing your death. I need you here."
"I'm an Auror, Hermione," Harry shouted, stifling the urge to reach out and throttle her. "This is what I've always wanted to be. Now you want me to give it all up?"
"No," Hermione whispered quietly, her eyes drifting shut. Harry felt himself begin to calm down as he stared at the ground, angry tears beginning to cloud his vision. After a moment he looked back at Hermione, his breaths coming haphazardly.
"Then what do you want me to do," Harry whispered hoarsely as a tear squeezed down his cheek.
A sob escaped Hermione's throat as she stepped up to Harry, resting her head on his shoulder for a brief moment. Harry felt paralyzed, rooted to the ground as her lips brushed his cheek and then drifted towards his ear.
"Goodbye, Harry Potter."