A/N: Well, I must say that I'm quite surprised at the number of reviews that I have! Thanks to all that reviewed (and to those who didn't and are just reading, that's fine! I do it all the time! Just know that I appreciate you! :D)
Oh, before we go any farther, let me address this once and for all; James is 100%, pure, prime-cut, all natural, however you want to put it, Weasley. You'll see... (Oh, you will.)
Anyway, moving on, I said in one of my replies to a review that I was afraid the changing Point of View was getting confusing. It's hard for me to remember what I'm supposed to remember... (I'm not that smart, after all!) But I will try to put the PoV person at the beginning of the chapter to maybe clear some stuff up.
Very special thanks to my beta Jennza, who re-did practically this whole chapter. Yes, yes, thanks, thanks. **wOoT**
Now that all that's said and done, (and I know you're tired of me rambling) on with the fic!;)
Harry
Chapter Four
Ordinary
"Whose eyes am I behind
I don't recognize anything that I see
Whose skin is this design
I don't want this to be the way you see me
"I don't understand anything anymore
In this world that I'm tired of
Is taking me right up these walls
That I climb up to get to your story
It's anything but ordinary
"And when the world is on its knees with me it's fine
And when I come to the rescue I get nothing but left behind
Everybody seems to be getting what they need
Where's mine"
'Cause you're everything I need so very
But I'm anything but ordinary"
'Ordinary'
-Train
I'm hiding behind the morning edition of The Daily Prophet. Not because I'm worried about being recognized, but because I'm tired of all the whispers about how I got my black eyes. Yeah-The-Boy-Who-Survived-Voldemort-Seven-Times-With-Only-A-Nifty-Scar-to-Show-For-It has two black eyes. And an impressive bruise on my jaw. And I think my nose is broken, or at the very least badly sprained. Wait... Can a nose be sprained? Whatever, it hurts like hell. I always knew I was more scared of Hermione than little Tommy Riddle for a reason.
"Harry, you can come out from behind there." I feel the table shift as Ron sits down across from me.
I lower the newspaper slowly and see Ron trying to fight the smile that has already spread across his face.
"Umm..." he laughs. "Uh... well..."
I sigh. "Go. I deserve it."
He laughs again. "It's not as bad as it could be, mate, honestly." He keeps laughing.
I want to reach across the table and give him two black eyes, an impressive bruise on his jaw and a broken (or sprained) nose. Instead I shrug awkwardly. "I guess."
He finally stops laughing and gestures to the paper. "Still making the front page?"
I scoff. "Yeah..." He grins at the picture of me, sprawled on the floor holding my jaw. "'Photo by Colin Creevey!'" I read. "Well, at least one thing hasn't changed!"
Ron grins. "Justin might disagree with that."
"Who... what?" I'm getting more confused by the second.
"Justin and Colin-they're an item now. They've really been good for each other."
Dear Merlin, what alternate universe have I wandered into? Hermione's married to Ron, Ginny's marrying Draco Malfoy, she and Hermione both hate me, Colin Creevey and Justin Finch-Fletchley are a couple... I'm not sure how many more shocks like this I can take.
Ron motions for drinks and drums his fingers on the table. "Look, Harry," he says finally. "I know a lot of things have changed, and I understand you're confused. But it's been almost nine years, Harry!" his voice is rising. Yep, he's angry with me, too. "What did you expect us to do, clap you on the back and say, 'welcome home, mate'?"
I look down at the table. "Well... kind of..." I mumble.
He snorts. "You were gone. We thought you were dead. We had to move on with our lives." He shakes his head. "Don't get me wrong here, Hermione would have waited for you til the end of time if she thought there was any chance of you coming back. She worked so hard to put her life back together after you left. In fact, she'd have my head if she knew I was with you now." He twists his wedding back nervously.
"Obviously..." I put a hand to my jaw. "So... How long did you say you've been married? A year, two?"
Parvati comes over, sets two bottles of butterbeer down in front of us and winks at me. "The usual, Ron?" she asks him. He nods and she turns to me. "Harry?"
"The same," I say shortly, not caring what the usual is. I just need to head the answer to my question. Parvati walks away and I turn back to my best friend... my formerbest friend. "Ron?"
He looks down at his hands. He's really giving his wedding ring a workout today. I get the impression it's a nervous habit he's had for a while. "Eight."
"Months?"
"Years," he says quietly, finally looking at me. "Last November was eight years."
I spit out the drink of butterbeer I've just taken. "Eight years? But... I left nine years ago this June. "You married her five months after I left? Unbelievable."
"We thought you were dead," he says simply.
"And that makes it okay?" I almost yell. I can see the tips of his ears turning pink. "She was my girlfriend!"
He grips the table so tightly his knuckles are white. I know the one thing that will make him snap. It's the one thing that's always been an issue with us. I lean toward him. "And you were jealous, weren't you, Ron?"
He slams his fist on the table but says nothing. He stares over my head and breathes deeply. "She-" Breath. "We had our reasons, Harry. Believing you dead was only part of it."
"I told her I would come back to her! She gave up on me after only five months? What kind of logic is that? I'll bet you moved in on her as soon as I was gone."
He looks back at me soberly, but doesn't respond. I am seeing a side of Ron I don't remember from before. Something in these last eight years has matured him immensely. "We had it on very good authority that you were dead. The Order pieced together what happened-they brought us your glasses, Harry. Or pieces of them, anyway. That's the day we began to accept the fact that you were gone."
"So, you thought Voldemort and I were both dead?" I ask him.
He shakes his head. "No... Hermione said that if you were dead, Voldemort was still alive. Something about some prophecy or other."
I start. "She told you that?"
He sighs. "You think she told me? She wouldn't betray you like that. I pieced it together from things she said and some conversations with Albus and Remus." He laughs mirthlessly. "You told her that you would come back to her. That you would never leave her by choice and if you didn't come back..."
"It was because I couldn't..." I finish his sentence, muttering the same words I breathed to her that night on the Astronomy Tower. "She told you that?" I'm wondering what else she told him.
"I strung it together." He traces the rim of the bottle with his finger. "She believed you. She said you promised her. And when has Harry Potter ever broken a promise?" He snorts. "Until then."
I'm still confused. "But why only five months? Why not longer? A year..."
"And then another and then another because that's the way it is with her. Believe me, Harry, if we hadn't made her deal with your... erm... death... she'd still be pining away for you."
"So you helped her deal with my death by marrying her?" I can't believe he expects me to just accept this.
"You don't know what it was like after you left, Harry. We all knew you'd gone to face Voldemort, but we didn't know where or when it would happen. The Death Eaters were out in force-it wasn't safe for any of us. We had reasons for what we did, but it's not my place to tell you what they were."
"And whose place is it?" I ask petulantly. I know what he'll say, but I have to hear it.
"You need to talk to Hermione."
My jaw gives a painful throb. "Yeah, because that worked out so well the first time!"
Ron sighs. "I'll talk to her. She just needs time to... deal with things. It's not every day her ex-boyfriend comes back from the dead."
That's when it really hits. All I am to her is an ex-boyfriend. Ron has been her husband for the last eight years. They've built a life without me. Suddenly I have a hundred questions. I don't know where they live, or what kind of jobs they have, or-
"Do you have children?" I ask abruptly. Suddenly, it's important that I know something about their live together.
He shakes his head. "I'm not discussing anything... personal with you. Hermione needs to tell you about the last eight years on her own terms." He shrugs. "Sorry, mate."
I look down and push away a congealing shepherd's pie. I never even noticed when the food arrived. Ron hasn't touched his either.
"Listen, Harry," he leans across the table. "Are you sure you're ready to talk to her? You're going to have to do a lot of explaining before she'll tell you anything."
I nod. "I wouldn't have come back if I wasn't ready to explain myself to her. I just hope she's ready to listen this time."
"I guess you found someplace to stay last night," he says, picking up his fork.
"I took a room at The Leaky Cauldron," I say, watching as he digs into his cold lunch. "But I thought tonight I might go to Number 12 Grimmauld Place."
Ron puts his fork down. Uh-oh. Ron Weasley turning away food? This does not bode well. "Not a good idea," he says slowly, looking everywhere but at me.
"I know it's probably in bad shape, but it's got to be better than The Leaky Cauldron..." Why is he acting so weird?
He clears his throat. "After you were... declared dead, Hermione inherited your possessions..." He grimaces. "She and I live there now."
Lovely. My best friend is married to my girlfriend and lives in my house. Can this get worse? Looks like The Leaky Cauldron for me again tonight. I sigh. At least there's one question about this universe solved.
* * *
"Hermione..." I shake her gently. "'Mione... Wake up."
Her eyes flutter open and she smiles shyly at me. She dresses silently as I turn and look out over the moonlit grounds. Hagrid's hut... The lake... The spot under the beech... Our spot. I angrily wipe away the tear that is rolling down my cheek and I feel her hands on my shoulders and her lips on my bare back. I turn to face her and she looks up at me with those eyes. "Aren't you cold?" she asks, motioning to my exposed chest.
I shake my head. "No... And you looked bloody good in my shirt, 'Mione... I'm almost sorry you pulled it off!" We laugh and the harsh reality sets it. I grab her neck and press my lips against hers. I feel her relax into me and I break away from her. "I-"
"Don't think you have to say it, Harry," she cuts me off. "I don't need to hear it to know that it's true."
I've refrained from saying it. I know she could tell. This revelation does not surprise me. She knew I didn't want to get too close to anyone before I had to go fight Voldemort. It would endanger her. But now... All I want is to tell her exactly how I feel about her. "No, 'Mione... I want to. I've never said this to anyone before. God knows there was no one that I could say it to before. I... I love you, Hermione."
"Are you sure?" she asks tearfully.
I nod. "Of course. You know... What I said earlier... you know that I meant it. I would never stay away by choice. If I don't come back... Well..." I shrug. "It's always a possibility."
"Yes..." she agrees. "But... Harry... Do you remember what I told you our first year? Right before you left to go defeat Voldemort for the second time in your life?"
I think back seven years. A shorter, slightly buck teethed Hermione with bushier hair throws her arms around me, much as she's doing now. "Hermione..." I breathe.
"Harry-you're a great wizard, you know," she whispers, tears falling down my chest.
I laugh. We're now saying the exact same things to each other that we said in our first year. It's comforting. How innocent we were then. We didn't know what we were feeling was love. We only knew that we only cared about each other. "Not as good as you..." I tease her, wrapping my arms around her waist.
"Me?" She giggles and throws her head back. "Books? And cleverness?" We stop our reverie and our eyes lock. "You've taught me more important things... Friendship... Bravery... Love..."
I capture her lips and am lost until she mutters. "Harry... It's 2:45. You'd better get dressed."
I pull my soaked shirt from the stone floor and, after she casts a drying charm on it, slip it over my head and pull her to me once more. "Fly with me..." I say quietly.
She shakes her head. "No... No, Harry."
"Are you scared?" I brush a lock of hair away from her eyes.
She shakes her head. "Not scared exactly... I just don't really like flying."
"You said you wanted our last hours together to be special." I know she won't argue with her own logic.
She looks absolutely terrified. "And they were, Harry... They were! But... But..."
I can see the wheels in her head turning, trying to find an excuse.
"You don't have your broom!" she shrugs. "Guess we can't go!"
I draw her to me. "It doesn't matter." I've been practicing human levitation charms for protection, but I never thought about this aspect of it. "Look down."
She peers over my shoulder and grabs me. "Harry! Harry! Put us down! But how'd you do that? This is very complex magic, Harry. I mean, not many wizards our age would be-"
"Hermione..." I speak over her. "Could you please stop considering the how's, when's, and why's of everything and just enjoy the moment?"
She nods, kisses me softly, and shuts her eyes tightly. She nestles her head down into my chest. I rest my chin on her head and hold her. That's all. Her breathing and the rhythm of her heart comfort me and her arms around my waist give me courage. It is in the desperate way she clings to me that strengthens me. I know who I am fighting for. She shivers and I draw my cloak more tightly around her.
"Mr. Potter..." Dumbledore's voice breaks up from our silent reverie.
Hermione whimpers and tightens her grip around my waist as we float back down to the tower.
Opening my eyes, I see Ron, Remus, Snape, McGonagall, and Moody standing in the doorway. I look to them and so does Hermione, her eyes brimming and her breaths becoming shallow and quick. She is close to tears. Stay strong for me, love... I can't bare to see you hurting. She steps a few inches away from me.
Professor McGonagall embraces me and whispers, "Good luck, Harry."
Snape holds out a pallid hand. I grasp it firmly and we shake without words. His usually cold eyes seem to soften a little and he stares at me. He nods and turns away from me.
Professor Dumbledore gives Hermione a sympathetic glance and shakes my hand as well. "Remus and Alastor will escort you to headquarters where you will await further instructions. You do understand, right Mr. Potter?"
I nod. "You've trained me well, Professor Dumbledore; a year ago, if you'd told me to await instructions, I would have grabbed you by the neck and shook said instructions out of you."
"I think we have reached a point in time where you may call me 'Albus', Harry. And, I believe, Miss Granger takes most of the credit with your self control. It takes a big person to back away from arrogance for love."
Hermione blushes and I turn to Ron. He holds out his hand. I take it and pull him into a hug. We break apart and he claps me on the back. "Well... Good... Good luck, mate." His words are strained and oddly high pitched. He thrusts my Invisibility Cloak into my hands and turns away before I can see the tears that I know are there.
I turn to Hermione. She is trying so hard to keep her tears in check, but as one slides down her cheek and I plant my lips on hers, I feel them fall freely and before I know it, I am crying too. I taste the salty tears on my lips, but I don't know whether they're mine or hers. I reluctantly pull away from her and trace her jaw with my thumb. "I will come back to you." I whisper, seeing her cry harder. "I will. And you'll wait for me, won't you?"
She nods and flings her arms around my neck. "Oh, Harry..." she breathes. "I'll wait forever..."
I stare into her endless eyes. "I love you." I hear Professor McGonagall's muffled sobs and see Snape awkwardly patting her on the back.
"I love you, too," she says, kissing me on the cheek.
Remus points to his watch and nods to me.
I kiss her one last time and steps over to Remus and Moody. "I'll be back..." I call to her and as she spins out of focus, I see her fall into Ron's arms and collapse into uncontrollable tears before I let my own slip silently down my cheeks.