Behind the Eyes of the Hero
Disclaimer- I do not own Harry Potter and never will.
Guess who you see in this chapter?
OoOoO
The Stranger in Town
It was still raining.
The tiny drops were running down her windowpanes like miniature waterfalls cascading towards the soggy ground below. Puddles had formed amongst her flowerbeds; all mud with tiny blades of grass sticking out like tiny flags of surrender. Her flower sea of reds, yellows, whites and blues were now a single smudge of colour seen from within her home.
The storm had raged on all night and the rain never ceased to fall. Hermione sat beside her Lounge Room window, just watching the tiny crystal like drops fall from the sky to splatter on the ground. The road was a long, black shiny river, picking up leaves and sticks on its way down hill.
She had made plans to go into town to shop today, but she would not be able to get from her yard without being drowned by the onslaught of rain and wind. Crookshanks was curled up in front of the fire; his purrs the only constant sound breaking the silence of the cottage. Hermione took a sip of her tea and sighed as she caught her reflection in the glass.
After many nights of restless sleep and spoiled dreams, it was really taking the toll on her. After she had left Hogwarts, she had her hair permanently straightened, but every time she got depressed, it would frizz out as it used to do. Slight bags hung under her dark eyes and her face was paler than usual.
But she would put on a happy face each time she left the solitude of her home. Everyone who saw her thought she was the happiest of them all, but that was just the mask she had built to hide her true feelings. Inside, she was slowly fading. She thought once the book had been finished, that the old memories and feelings would fade, and the pain would go away. How wrong she had been.
While she was writing the book, she was forced to relive some of the worst and best times of her life. She had been drowned in the visions of old times and the only way to survive the deep was to keep writing. But each word cost her immense strength and every chapter caused tears to fall in torrents of lost times.
And finally, when she had dotted the last `I' and crossed the final `T', she had closed the book and waited for the calm that did not come. Writing the book only proved to fuel her hunger to find the things that were lost. It only made the memories intensify and visit her in waking hours as well as sleep. She could not walk down the street without thinking that the man in front with the red hair was Ron. Or that the person laughing behind her was Harry. Even her thoughts had been corrupted by the voices of her two best friends. Someone might be talking about Quidditch on the table beside hers and she would have to fight the urge to join in with them and tell of all the things she knew about the Magical Sport.
Like the other day. She had been talking to her publicist when he had spoken a quote from her book. It resulted in her having to rush home in tears. And when she had shut the door behind her, she realized how stupid she had been and Daniel Moore must think she was going insane.
Hermione sighed as she looked out of the window, watching a figure walk past on the footpath. They turned their head to face her house then straightened up and continued on. The person had been wearing a dark travelling coat and hood, but she thought he must have been crazy to take a stroll in this weather.
OoO
Finally, around noon, the clouds parted to reveal the pale, shining sun, sending its scorching rays to dry the roads and footpaths. Hermione pulled her thick cloak on and grabbed her bag, opening the door to step out into the windy day. Even though the sun had finally made an appearance, thick clouds still hung in the sky, threatening to once more drop the rain and perhaps snow. It hadn't snowed for a while and the weather forecast had said to expect some later that day. The only problem with Redriver was the abrupt and peculiar weather changes.
She walked out onto the path, trying to step over the water puddles that had formed overnight. The street was sleek and shiny in the sunshine, making her feet slip occasionally. She turned out of Rosebud Lane and began to head towards the town, greeting a few people as she went.
Redriver had been established in the last few years. It was an all - Wizarding village, that was a symbol for hope after Voldemort's downfall. It showed everyone that they could move on after the events of the second war, and live peacefully again. Hermione chose this town because not many people knew about it, and it gave her the feel of home.
The wind whipped her hair back as she turned into the main street, so she tightened her scarf and pulled her beanie down a bit further. She was planning on heading to Godfrey's to do some grocery shopping, as she was running low on milk and bread, before heading over to St Helen's to meet Daniel for more news on her book.
When she had first finished her book, she had searched out many publicists, but all turned her down. She was about to give up when Daniel Moore called her and asked for a copy of her novel. She gladly accepted and a few weeks later, he flooed her back and said that he would gladly publish her book, saying it was a masterpiece and a brilliant recount of the second war seen through the eyes of the hero.
A month later, Behind the Eyes of the Hero was sitting on bookshelves across Britain. Millions of copies were sold and Hermione was making more money than Cornelius Fudge ever did. Of course, she did not do it for the wealth, but to let the world know about the inside story of their hero; how he was constantly haunted by monsters in his sleep, and abused as a child by his relatives. How no one believed him when he told the truth, and how he did not want to be a hero. He just wanted to be normal.
"Good day, Hermione." Mrs Wentworth said. She was an elderly lady, always carrying an umbrella and wearing a disgusting, shaggy green coat. Hermione smiled and said, "Hello, Mrs Wentworth."
"Hasn't the weather been just awful?" She said, looking up at the sky with wide, grey eyes. Hermione nodded and gave the woman a false smile. "Yes, it has. Well…I'll see you later, then. Bye," Hermione said as the old woman nodded, flashed a toothy smile and continued down the street. Hermione sighed, glancing at the sky once more before walking on, head bowed in silent thought.
She wasn't looking where she was going, and walked straight into a cloaked man. He dropped an object that landed in a puddle at their feet and splashed dirty water over both their legs.
"Oh, I'm so sorry; I wasn't watching where I was going!" Hermione said, bending down to pick up the book. She straightened up to find that she was holding a copy of her own novel, now dripping with muddy water.
"That's okay," the man said, taking the book from her. She smiled unsteadily at him, feeling embarrassed. She realised, with a start, that the man was quite handsome. He had windblown dark hair and a pair of stunning blue eyes, sparkling down at her.
"Erm - right, sorry again," Hermione mumbled, turning and continued walking. After a few seconds, she glanced back and realized with a start, that the man had been watching her with a curious frown. She quickly faced forward once more, her face hot with embarrassment. She reached the supermarket without too much incident, and entered the store, listening to the usual bell.
"Hi, Mr Godfrey," she greeted a tall, elderly gentleman reading the Daily Prophet behind the counter. He looked up with a brown gaze and nodded once, turning his attention back down to the paper. Jeffrey Godfrey had been an auror in the first and second war, making him extremely paranoid. He hardly ever trusted anyone that entered his store, and read every edition of the Prophet for signs of a new Dark Lord.
A few minutes later, Hermione was unloading her basket onto the counter. Also with her milk and bread, she had collected some butterscotch biscuits, chocolate and a pack of tea, as she was running low.
"That's three pounds, lassie," Mr Godfrey said, looking back down at his paper. Hermione placed the required amount of money on the countertop and placed hr groceries in her bag.
"Thanks, Mr Godfrey; I'll see you later,"
"OK, lass, bye," he answered distantly, flicking over the page. Hermione looked to the sky after exiting the shop; the clouds were regrouping, to form another towering wall of rain. She sighed, adjusting the bag on her arm and starting off towards St Helen's Café, where her publicist and friend, was waiting.
The smell of coffee and cooking cakes greeted her as she entered the crowded café. Waitresses were bustling around, carrying notepads and trays of steaming foods and drinks; customers chatted at circular tables in the middle of the room, and at the windows on long, leather benches. After scanning the room, she spotted the familiar form of Daniel Moore, and made his way towards him.
"Hello, Daniel!" Hermione said in a rush, dropping her things on the ground and taking a set opposite her friend. Daniel's scruffy blond hair hung almost passed his light brown eyes, which happened to be sparkling in mirth.
"Hi, Hermione," he greeted, grinning a broad, toothy smile. "I hear it's going to snow again tonight."
"Yeah, I heard. Its weird weather we're having," she said.
"You mean, weirder than usual?" Daniel said, raising his eyebrows. Hermione chuckled.
"Yes, weirder than usual. Now, what was it you wanted to talk to me about?" she asked, as he reached into his oat pocket and pulled out a piece of paper, handing it across to her. She felt her breath catch in her throat and her hand grasped the table edge.
"Are these legitimate?" she asked, her heart pounding in her chest. Daniel nodded slowly, an unstoppable grin creeping onto his face.
"I received them this morning; apparently it's a new record. Flourish and Blotts has never had a book that has sold so many copies before, they've already ordered another thousand copies to go with the hundred or so pre-ordered books. Everyone loves you, Hermione; you and your book. I've had the Daily Prophet on the Floo all morning, and they want to know if they can do an exclusive interview with you!" Daniel said, shaking his head in disbelief.
Hermione couldn't believe it. Everything was moving so fast. She thought no one would read the book because it was written by her: bookworm and know-it-all. Now it was on the Bestseller's list and breaking sell-out records. The publicity and fame was rolling it, and all she could do was stare blankly at the paper before her.
"I - I - I can't believe it…" she said shakily, looking up at Daniel's beaming face. "And you say the Prophet wants an interview?"
"Yep, Flooed first thing this morning, while I was still in bed. They want it done by Friday, to make the morning edition. Merlin…" he said, rubbing a hand through his hair. "Aren't you glad I found you in time?" he said, laughing.
Hermione smiled. "Yes, I sure am." She still couldn't believe it. Her book, the one she had written to get over Harry, was now known worldwide and in the hands of thousands of witches and wizards. It was over-whelming.
"Can I think about it?" she asked, still unable to let go of the paper, feeling as though if she did, all this would disappear.
"What? You mean about the Exclusive?" Daniel said, "Yes, yes, definitely. Just make sure you let me know if you want to do it by tomorrow, so I can Floo the Prophet and work out the details."
Hermione nodded slowly, re-reading the information once more. It was a transcript to Daniel, giving the graphs and facts about the sale of her book. Including the profit made; the sum made her giddy. It was unfathomable how fast all this was happening, and to think of all the people, out there, reading about her life in Hogwarts with Harry and Ron by her side.
It would show them what the life of their hero was about, and how much he sacrificed to save them all. Hermione found herself wondering if Harry was out there somewhere, holding a copy of her book. She wondered if he would mind that she had recounted his entire life to the whole world. Of course, she had tried sending him a letter to ask his permission, but it had come back untouched and unopened. Her thoughts wandered to the skinny, bespectacled boy she had first met in her first year. A small, sad smile grew on her lips.
"Hermione? Hermione are you OK?" Daniel's soft voice stole her from her thoughts and she shook her head briefly. Looking over at her friend, he felt her cheeks grow warm for the third time that day.
"Sorry, I sort of -"
"It's OK, I understand," Daniel said, his kind smile reassuring her. She nodded and her smile faltered.
"It's just -"
"I know, you don't have to explain," he said, placing his hand over her own. She sighed and bowed her head. Over the few years that she had been here, she had made some pretty good friends, like Daniel. They had helped her through a tough time after arriving here, where she couldn't even leave her house without breaking down. They were her shoulders to cry on when she had no one else. Ron had visited once, about a week after Hogwarts had ended. He had said that they would keep in touch, but without Harry to hold them together, they had drifted apart and slowly the owls became even more irregular. She held from Ginny and Ron a few times a year, more from Ginny than her brother, but still the letters were distant.
"How about you get home and have a rest? You've been looking exhausted lately," he said, squeezing her hand before letting it go. He wore a concerned look and his brown eyes were covered in care.
"I know! I just can't seem to sleep a lot these past few days. I don't know why," she said, refusing to meet his eye. She was lying and he knew it, but how could she tell him, the reason she couldn't sleep was the reason she was now incredibly rich?
"I'll Floo you later, OK? Get some sleep; you don't have to worry about a thing!" Daniel said standing and giving her a hand as well. Gathering her bags, Hermione clasped Daniel's hands and kissed him lightly on the cheek.
"I don't know what I would do without you," she whispered into his ear, letting go of his hands and smiling sincerely up at him.
"I know, now go!" he said. Hermione wove her way between the many people and tables, finally reaching the front door. She paused when she threw it open, as a strong gust of wind blew snow straight into her face.
"Here's the forecasted snow," she mumbled to herself, tightening her cloak and hat. No one was out as the snow slowly drifted from the heavens, so Hermione had the whole walkway to herself and her thoughts. A strong wind was blowing down the street, taking with it the cold and wet. By the time she reached the corner leading into Rosebud Lane, her entire body was shivering from cold. She desperately wished she could apparate straight into her warm Living Room, but due to wards and rules in the town, no one was allowed to apparate in or out of Redriver. It was to prevent any attacks or unwanted visitors from entering the town without someone knowing. It also proved to be a nuisance in times like these.
Hermione growled as a large snowflake found its way under her collar and she struggled to keep it from melting down her neck. The sky was pure white tinted with the dark clouds; Hermione hoped it would continue snowing all night, so she had a reason to not get up the net morning. The bags were beginning to get heavy as she trudged up the footpath, creating a trail in her wake.
She was a few houses away from her own hoe, when she spotted a figure sitting on her garden fence, with the snow
dropping upon them. Every few seconds, they would shake their head and tiny bits of ice would fly through the air.
Hermione's heart began to beat faster as she approached, and she didn't know why. She was a house away now and
the figure finally spotted her and jumped off the fence, staring towards her.
Hermione realised, with a jolt, that it was the same man she had run into that morning. He was still wearing the great black coat and was now wearing a green beanie pushed over his hair. He seemed to be fumbling with something in his hands and kept glancing around as if he suspected someone watching.
She was a few metres away when she stopped, staring at him curiously. "Erm, hello?" she said nervously, struggling to keep the bag of groceries in her arms. Now that she was a little closer, she noticed that his hair was in his eyes and he kept his head slightly bowed, so she couldn't she his gaze.
"Can I help you?" she asked when he didn't answer the first time. Finally, he looked up and her breath caught in her throat; the bag of groceries fell to the ground, the milk rolling away across the snow. The man was staring at her through a curtain of dark hair, and even them she could recognize his stunning eyes.
"Harry?" she stammered, as the snow continued to fall.
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Hey, sorry for the late update and the big cliffy. LOL. HARRY'S BACK! And the chapter was longer and contained a bit more about the town Hermione calls home. I'm not sure, when the next chapter will be out, but don't forget to review!
Bye
DW
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