Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter and co., they all belong to the lovely JK Rowling. I just do this to avoid less pleasant things, like homework.
Note: I've always wanted to write one of these post-OotP fics. So here it is. To be honest, I'm not sure how long it will be. I don't plan very well, and I don't write ahead much. This is only the second fic I've posted on the net, so all feedback, positive or not, would be much appreciated. Oh-this isn't a songfic, I just think those two lines (from Cry by Mandy Moore) fit the story well.
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It was then that I realized, that forever was in your eyes
The moment I saw you cry
Hermione sighed and pushed the thin coverlet off her body, tangling it in her legs. She turned onto her side and stared blankly at the illuminated clock on her bedside table. Four minutes to midnight. A hot summer breeze blew the pale pink curtains at her windows out slightly, and Hermione shifted to her back once more, putting her hands behind her head. Oddly, she could still make out the delicate white furniture, stacks of books, and open Hogwarts trunk perfectly. She guessed it was because she'd barely closed her eyes all night. She watched herself in the mirror above the dressing table across the room. Her face looked tired, but her brown eyes were still awake and alert. Her long curly hair was draped over her one shoulder in an attempt to keep cool, and she wore a white tank top and a pair of light blue boxer shorts. With another sigh, she kicked the blanket off completely, pushing it down to the very foot of her high, Queen sized bed. She flipped over onto her stomach and fixed her stare this time on the cushioned headboard of her bed.
It was no use. It had been months since she'd last seen Harry, yet she simply could not stop thinking about him. He'd gone through something terrible, far worse than anything that had happened before. And that, Hermione thought, was saying something. Harry, in his short fifteen years, had suffered more than all the other people Hermione knew combined. He'd lost his parents before he could talk, been made to live with emotionally and physically abusive relatives, battled the most evil wizard alive thrice, seen a friend die and a deadly enemy return to power. And now he had lost the person closest to a father he'd ever known, Sirius Black. Hermione shut her eyes tight and Harry's face as she had last seen him floated into her head. He was trying to smile for her and Ron's sakes, for Mrs. Weasley and Lupin and everyone else who had come to greet them at King's Cross. But before he followed his uncle away from the group, he had turned and given her one last look. His features were lined with pain, and his normally bright green eyes were dark with it. She had been unable to do anything but look back at him over her mother's shoulder, silently telling him she wished she could be with him and hoping he understood.
Hermione exhaled softly. She'd go to him. She'd catch the Knight Bus to Little Whinging and be back before her parents woke in the morning. It wasn't something she'd normally do, Hermione admitted. But tonight she felt different. The annoying little voice of reason had not come to her. Without a second thought, she slid out of bed and threw open the lid of her heavy Hogwarts trunk. She dug around until she found the leftover gold from the last Hogsmeade trip in the pocket of a black school robe. Counting it quickly in her hand, she climbed up on the window seat and pushed it all the way open with a grunt. She stared out the gateway to freedom for a moment. She'd never climbed out a window before. She stuck one leg through first, straddled the sill for a moment then pulled herself out the other side.
"Oof!" She landed with a crunch in the hedge growing outside her window. Grimacing, she brushed the leaves off her arms and legs and tried to fluff the plant back into its neat hedge shape. Her mother was a fanatical gardener and Hermione was sure she'd notice a flat spot in the bushes. She never had understood how anyone could be so passionate about plants. She pulled her hair back and straightened her clothing. It was cooler outside than in her room. With one last glace up at her parents' bedroom window on the second floor of the large, peach-colored Victorian house, she hurried to the street corner and stuck out her wand hand.
She was nearly knocked off her feet when the three-story purple bus screeched to a stop in front of her. There was a wooshing sound like air going out of the tires and a tall, skinny boy jumped out in front of her. She looked up slowly.
"Welcome to the Knight Bus, emergency transport for the stranded witch or wizard. Just stick out your wand hand, step on board, and we can take you anywhere you want to go. My name is Stan Shunpike, and I will be your conductor this evening." The skinny, pale boy shoved the grubby paper he'd been reading from back in his jacket pocket and looked at her expectantly. "Well?" he asked, dropping the posh accent. "Wha're ya waitin for? Never been on the Knight Bus before?"
"Er…actually, no," she said timidly. She held out the silver sickles to Stan. "This is all I've got."
He narrowed his eyes and glanced past her at her parents' house. "You ain't supposed to be out here, are you?"
Hermione frowned at him. "I just got an owl from my muggle aunt in Little Whinging. My three year old cousin is making his dirty nappies fly around the room and she doesn't know what to do. My uncle is the wizard, and he's on duty tonight at St. Mungo's. My parents are muggles too, it was no use waking them and I didn't want to."
Stan made a face. "Well, I don't envy her, tha's for sure," he said. He took the silver from her and ushered her inside. "We've got a full house tonight," he told her, pushing her to the back. "Wizarding weddings, they're uncontrollable."
Hermione didn't need to be told. Lounging on the squishy beds on either side of the aisle, young witches and wizards were hexing everything around them and holding something that looked suspiciously like firewhiskey. Stan ducked as a jet of yellow light came straight for his head. "Oi, watch where you's pointing tha!" He glared at the giggling witch dressed in green who had cast the spell. "They're all rotten, all of them," he muttered. "Here we are, then," he said, still a little sullenly. He motioned to the last bed on the right side of the bus. "And you're going to Surrey, righ?"
Hermione nodded. "Thank you."
"No problem, mate." He turned and made his way back to the conductor's chair, cursing and shaking his fist at a wizard who had turned his uniform pink.
Twenty minutes later, Hermione was thrown to the floor as the Knight Bus screeched to a halt. She groaned and picked herself up.
"Little Whinging!" came Stan's voice from the front of the bus.
Hermione made her way to the door, feeling glad the wedding party had gotten of at Diagon Alley ten minutes ago.
"Hope the nappies aren't too messy!" Stan said cheerfully.
She smiled. "Thanks," she told him. "See you later." She stepped out onto the curb and glanced around. In the dim light from the headlights, she spotted the Privet Drive street sign a few blocks down. With a wave to the driver, she turned and hurried down the street. It was very…clean here. Every lawn was perfectly manicured, every car sparkling, every dead leaf swept away. Mum would like it here, she thought absently. She turned on Privet Drive and stood in front of number four. She circled around the side of the house, and found Harry's window quickly. It was the one with marks on the sill where Harry's uncle had had bars installed three summers ago. She remembered fleetingly that the bars had come off when Ron and his brothers had come to rescue Harry and take him to the Burrow before their second year.
She put one hand on her hip and stared up at the window on the second floor. Suddenly it hit her how ridiculous this was. What would she have thought if she had found Harry or Ron in front of her house without any notice whatsoever? It was almost midnight. Harry probably wasn't even awake. How was she supposed to get up there? Would he even want her to come up? He hadn't responded to her last owl. Maybe he didn't want to see her. She was beginning to panic slightly when a very familiar head appeared at the window. A very surprised looking Harry was staring down at her.