Hermione awoke the next morning to the sound of birds chirping as sunlight poured across her face. For some unknown reason Hermione felt unusually happy this morning as she opened her eyes. After a few seconds of disorientation Hermione realized that she was in her guest room. And then she remembered. She'd slept with Harry last night. (no, not SLEPT with him slept with him…get your mind out of the gutter). She remembered that he told her he loved her. But then she remembered how he'd said it. More friendly than romantic…but at least he'd said it.
She could still picture his wonderful smile and feel the warmth of his body against hers. Wait a minute…She turned over to see that she was alone in the bed. Oh no, she thought to herself. Could he have possibly left without telling her? She tore off her covers and was about leap out of bed when she heard something. It sounded like pots clanging together down in the kitchen. Oh my gosh, she realized. Harry was making her breakfast. She didn't know whether to laugh or cry. She'd always known that Harry was a great friend, but this was far beyond anything she'd ever imagined.
Before going downstairs, Hermione quietly padded down the hall to her room to get a robe. She looked into her mirror to check her hair. It was messy as usual, but for some reason, Hermione felt the need to make herself more presentable to Harry this morning. As she was fixing her ponytail, Hermione felt herself getting nervous. Hermione was worried that things might be weird between her and Harry this morning after all that had happened the night before.
Hermione checked the mirror one last time before prying herself away. She tried to keep herself from running down the hallway and bounding down the stairs. No one besides her parents and Mrs. Harthington had ever made her breakfast before. (Some mornings when Mrs. Harthington doesn't see Hermione out on her porch, she'll stop by to make sure everything's all right, and she'll make Hermione breakfast. Mrs. Harthington spoils Hermione so much sometimes).
Hermione briskly walked down the hallway and nearly tripped over herself trying to get down the stairs. She successfully avoided stubbing her toe the furniture as she quickly made her way through the living room. She could barely contain her excitement. She felt like a child on Christmas morning. She rounded the corner and walked into the kitchen.
"Harry! This is such a wonderful surprise! Thank you so much for-" she stopped abruptly upon seeing the figure of a squat, grey-haired woman reaching for a towel to grip one of the pans that was on the stove. Mrs. Harthington turned to greet her young neighbor.
"Oh, good morning, Hermione dear. It's about time you woke up. I was just making some waffles and bacon, because I know they're your favorite. Now, have a seat; I'm almost finished," Mrs. Harthington said warmly as she placed the freshly cooked bacon on a plate.
Hermione didn't move. If no one had been upstairs with her, and Mrs. Harthington was down here, then where was Harry? Hermione turned from the kitchen and retraced her steps through the living room, finding it empty. She returned to the kitchen and looked out on her porch. Empty as well. A sick, heavy feeling was forming in Hermione's stomach. Harry wouldn't just leave without saying good-bye, would he? Come on, Hermione, be logical, she scolded herself. Mrs. Harthington probably knows where he is. So Hermione returned to the kitchen, and trying to keep her voice even asked politely, "Mrs. Harthington, have you seen my friend Harry?"
Mrs. Harthington turned to her with a playful twinkle in her eye. "The one you fancy, dear?" she asked coyly.
Hermione fought the urge to groan and roll her eyes and answered affirmatively. However, Hermione grew hopeful.
"Why, no, I haven't," Mrs. Harthington answered. Hermione's stomach dropped. Maybe Harry would leave without saying good-bye. "Why? Is something the matter?" But Hermione didn't hear the end of Mrs. Harthington's question. She ran up the stairs, taking two at a time. She burst into her guest room and took a good look around. If only she'd done this earlier, she probably would have noticed that all of Harry's clothes were gone. The chair on which he'd put his shirt and slippers glared back at her, empty. She looked to the night stand next to the bed where he would've left his glasses. They weren't there, however, something else was. A piece of paper. As Hermione drew closer she saw her name scrawled across the front of it. It was a note. From Harry. Hermione almost didn't have the strength to touch it, let alone pick it up and read it. Before looking at it she knew what it said. However, her curiosity got the best of her (as it always does), and with shaking hands she picked up the carefully creased parchment and slowly unfolded it. She began tearing up, which made reading even more difficult. It read:
Dear Hermione,
I can't thank you enough for what you did for me last night. It meant more to me than you'll ever know. I hope you don't hate me for just leaving and not saying good-bye, but I thought it would be easier on both of us this way.
I love you, Hermione. I hope you know that. I would never want anything to happen to you. Please take care of yourself and keep watch for anything suspicious while I'm gone. I don't know what I would do if anything happened to you.
You're my best friend, Hermione, never forget that.
Love always,
Harry
Hermione slowly crushed the paper in her hand as her tears ran freely down her face. She made her way downstairs without even noticing. Mrs. Harthington came over to her, said something that Hermione didn't comprehend, and hugged her tightly. Hermione didn't really know what was happening. She was completely numb. Harry, her Harry, was gone. He was really gone. He'd left her, and she didn't even get to say good-bye.
She was almost mad at him. How could he do this to her? Didn't he know that she would at least need the sense of closure that comes with saying good-bye? How could he just abandon her? He'd finally left without even saying good-bye, and he might never be coming back.
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