Behind the Eyes of a Hero

dreamer43

Rating: R
Genres: Drama, Romance
Relationships: Harry & Hermione
Book: Harry & Hermione, Books 1 - 5
Published: 31/10/2004
Last Updated: 20/02/2005
Status: completed

It is three years after Hogwarts and Hermione Granger has just published her first book. She is living the quiet life she has always wanted and owns a lovely bookshop in a wizarding village. Her life is perfect, except she is missing the two things she wants so badly. Her hero and her brother. Her boys. Hey- I had to up the rating for this chapter. it isn't for much but I wanted to be careful. Sorry!

Chapters

1. Finding Answers to Unknown Questions

2. The Memories so Haunting

3. A Stranger in Town

4. Seeing Emerald

5. Absences Explained

6. Not All Things Stay the Same

7. Winter Time Warmth

8. Behind the Eyes of the Hero

9. The Morning After

10. That Thing Called Love

1. Finding Answers to Unknown Questions

Behind the Eyes of the Hero

Disclaimer- I do not own Harry Potter and never will. The idea of this story came to me when I was reading a story on Portkey. I thought it might be fun to write it when I have some time between my other stories. It probably won't be updated quickly and it won't be that long. It's just something I thought would be good to write. Oh, and don't forget to review!

Summery- It has been three years since Hogwarts has ended and Hermione Granger is living her life alone. With her self-written book and her cat Crookshanks, everything seems to be fine. Until news reaches her of a stranger in town. A stranger with extraordinary emerald eyes...

oOo

Finding Answers to Unknown Questions

Hermione Granger sighed as she stepped out from the bookstore, wrapping her long cloak tighter around her slim body. The icy wind whipped down the street, cutting into her exposed skin. There was no sun shining down to melt the snow coating the small town, only clouds covered the sky, threatening to let drop the rain and hail.

She had lived in Scotland for over two years and those years had been spent in solitude. Of course her book had promoted publicity, but she hadn't done it for that. She had done it so the truth could be finally revealed. So the lies could be uncovered for what they truly were. She had done it for him.

She mentally hit herself for thinking such things and continued down the street, ignoring the wind and cold buffeting down on her. The village looked like something from a fairy tale. With small, snow covered houses and cobbled streets, it was the symbol of beauty. That was the main reason she had come here.

It had the feel and look of a small, country town. Everybody knew everyone else and news traveled fast around here. So if a stranger turned up one day, she would know about it only a few hours after his arrival. The way she wanted it. Plus, her book was high news in the town. It had been for the last few weeks since she had it published.

Labeled Behind the Eyes of the Hero, it followed her trials and tribulations through Hogwarts and her friendship with Harry Potter: The Boy Who Lived. It said everything about what had happened behind the walls of Hogwarts; from her first year on the train, to her seventh year saying goodbye to her two best friends on the Platform of Nine and Three Quarters.

That had been the last day she had laid eyes on Harry Potter. She had watched him give her a last smile and embrace her one last time, whispering, “I will always love you,” into her ear before Disapparating away with a sad look in his emerald eyes. That had been the day her heart had been lost. It felt like a part of her soul had been taken with Harry when he went and it was still missing to this day. She occasionally received a letter from Ron Weasley or Ginny, or she heard of the latest win by the Chudley Cannon's and Ron Weasley's greatest save yet.

She was glad that Ron was able to move on from their Hogwarts days yet envious that he could forget so easily. Every night she revisited the worst days of her life and each morning she awoke in tears, wishing everything would go back to normal. She wished that she was back in her first year, laughing with her two best friends, trying to figure out the mystery surrounding the trap door in the third corridor.

Life had been so much simpler back then. There was no worrying over Voldemort or the safety of your friends and parents. There was no war threatening to break out. There was only the nervousness of minor exams and the excitement of an upcoming Quidditch match. Harry, Hermione and Ron had been inseparable, rarely seen without the company of the others.

But as they got older and the darkness surrounding the world grew thicker, their friendship stayed strong as ever. Hermione and Ron helped Harry when the weight of the world grew too strong for him to bear alone and they shared the great burden between them. After Sirius Black was killed, Harry sank into a deep depression that threatened to consume him. It was Hermione and Ron that drew him out and convinced him to keep fighting. Once they had learnt of the prophecy, the three of them worked the hardest they could ever work and trained in the silence of the night for the last two years of their schooling.

They learnt things people of their age should never have to learn and they witnessed visions that should only be seen in nightmares. In their last two years, they had grown the most out of any student at Hogwarts. They became powerful, Harry more than anything. His magical energy was that of Dumbledore by the end of his seventh year and his skills at every subject were much more than any could achieve. He had become what he was born to become. He had grown into a powerful wizard at only the age of seventeen. He had the horrors of the world pressed down upon him and only a little bit of hope that drove him on. The times that he laughed were those of great remembrance, as a smile was hardly ever seen on his face after the death of his godfather.

Hermione remembered her last years at Hogwarts with much pain and sadness. Her seventh year was the one she would never forget, not that she wished to. It had been the year when the Second War broke out, causing much turmoil and death in both worlds. It had been the year when Harry defeated Voldemort on the grounds of Hogwarts, giving away the last of his innocence but gaining the freedom he so much longed for. And it had been the year when Hermione finally realized she was in love with Harry Potter.

Hermione on the streets of a small Scottish town, groaned in sudden awareness. She had done it again. Every time she let her mind wander, it went to him. Him with his scruffy black hair and exotic green eyes. Him with his sweet smile that melted her heart. Him that had taken her soul. She couldn't afford to think of him or the place she left behind. She had come here to be alone and free of her past life. But like it always did, her past had found her and was taunting her in painful memories and dreams. They felt so real, it was if she was reliving the days when they had been the best of friends, laughing and smiling over trivial things.

They were the worst dreams to have. They reminded her of times she could never have back and feelings she would never feel again. They made her want to scream, cry and swear all at once. And they made her heart shatter and repair itself, only to repeat the process once more.

“Not now, Hermione,” she murmured to herself angrily, swiping away the tears threatening to fall from her eyes. The clouds had finally released their hold on the water and rain was falling like tiny crystals from the stormy sky. She pulled her cloak closer and pulled her hat down a little harder, her hair whipping back from her head in the icy wind. She turned left at the corner convenience store and walked briskly down the road, passing small cottages and stores.

She finally reached number two Rosebud Lane, pushed open the squeaky gate, and entered a neat little yard. She hurried up the thin stone path and onto the front porch, thankful she was out of the pouring rain. Hermione reached into her pocket and fumbled with the keys. Sliding one into the lock. With a slight click, the door unlocked and Hermione stumbled inside, shivering with cold. She placed her bag on the floor near the door and kicked off her smart, brown shoes placing them on a Welcome mat sitting beside her wall.

She pulled off her wet cloak, hung it on a coat hook with her hat, and shook her head to free it of tiny water droplets. Once that was done she quickly entered the Lounge Room, pulling out her wand and lighting the fire. Sighing in content, she went to the kitchen and fixed herself a up of steaming tea. She returned to the now warm Lounge Room and sank down into a comfortable, blue armchair, sipping at her hot drink.

There she sat for a long while, just staring into the flickering flames, her mind back on Harry with his enchanting emerald eyes.

Oh how she missed him. She missed seeing his smile that warmed her entire body. She missed feeling his arms around her, that made her feel like there was nothing in the world that could hurt her. And she missed his company. Even though, at times he was broody and had unexpected mood swings, she enjoyed his calming nature and soothing voice. Just listening to him talk was enough to make her knees weak and make her feel like floating away.

And his power was incredible. There was a reason why the Dark Lord had wanted him dead. Voldemort had sensed the power in a one-year old Harry and tried to kill him before he could grow up and fully develop the power within him. But that had backfired and it had cost him his own life. Harry had been marked for a reason and had a prophecy spoken about him for a reason. And the reason was that Harry was special. He had special powers and a special appearance. He led a special life. But mostly, he made those around him feel special.

If it wasn't for Harry, she would be a nobody; disliked and unnoticed. But Harry had made her feel something and accepted in the world. He made her want to live life to the fullest and take every chance that she could to make a better life for herself. He had made her what she was now. And after he had done that and, unnoticeably, made her fall in love with him, he had left her with five words that had haunted and annoyed her for over three years.

“I will always love you.”

Seriously, who says that then just leaves, without saying where they were going or when they would be back. Harry had told her, one night in the Common Room at Hogwarts, that he would escape for a while when he finished Hogwarts: if he finished Hogwarts. Back then, in the days when Voldemort was a rising monster in the dark, the chance of Harry surviving in the final battle was very slim indeed. And the small ounce of hope that resided in each of Harry, Hermione and Ron's hearts that they would all graduate and live for many years, was enough to power a thousand Patroni.

When Harry entered the battle field that day, with his wand held tight and his thoughts on defeating Voldemort once and for all; she had been scared. Firstly at the prospect of her best friend heading off to defeat the most powerful Dark Wizard of their age. And secondly, she had been scared of him. Harry had showed what he was capable of. He wasn't a small, skinny eleven year old wizard-in-training. He was a fully powered, extremely strong wizard, with his mind set on killing Lord Voldemort for good.

And Hermione had followed him into the grounds of death, with Ron on his other side; all three of them prepared and trained for what was to come. They had trained for two hard years for that day when everything would change, for the good or the bad. Either Harry or Voldemort would die that die, or both. And they had talked about it and came to an understanding; that Harry would do what he had to in order to defeat Voldemort. It didn't mean Hermione had to accept it.

“Why do you always haunt me?” she said sadly, tearing her eyes away from the dying fire to stare at the cold cup of tea in her hands. Her delicate fingers were shaking against the white porcelain of her cup and the piece of metal curled around one of them sparkled in the light. She placed the cold tea down and took the ring off, moving it around in her fingers. There was an inscription on the inside of the ban: Friends Forever and Always.

She had gotten three of these rings in their seventh year and had each engraved with the same phrase. She had given one to each Ron and Harry, saying it would protect them in times of need. And Hermione had kept hers, after these few years, never taking it off in fear of losing the connection between her and her boys.

If she lost it, she would lose them too. And she wasn't ready to be left alone without her hero and brother. They were her life.

But she was alone. Ron was off playing professional Quidditch while Harry was gone, with no one knowing where he had vanished. And here she was, living in a Wizarding village in the middle of Scotland; she was an author and bookshop owner, where she could explore the many worlds through the pages in her books without having to leave the safety of her chair. Yet, something was missing. A piece of her soul and all her heart.

Hermione sighed as she placed the ring in her palm and squeezed tight, wishing her boys back home.

oOo

Hey everyone! How was that? I hope it came out all right, please review, and tell me what you think! I'm not sure when the next chapter will be out, probably when I have written a few chapters for my other stories!

Thank you!

DW

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2. The Memories so Haunting

Behind the Eyes of the Hero

Disclaimer- I do not own Harry Potter and never will.

Summery- It has been three years since Hogwarts has ended and Hermione Granger is living her life alone. With her self-written book and her cat Crookshanks, everything seems to be fine. Until news reaches her of a stranger in town. A stranger with extraordinary emerald eyes...

OoOoO

The Memories so Haunting

The sky was a rolling mass of darkened clouds with a red sunset shining through. A cool wind was striking across the grounds with the trees swaying silently. Slight ripples ran across the surface of the great lake; a blood red sky reflected in the dark waters. All was silent except for the distant rumbling of a thunderstorm approaching. The shadows made by the tall trees of the forest stretched far across the ground, joined with those of robed figures, emerging from between the swaying limbs and branches.

They were walking slowly yet with purpose, their dark cloaks whipping about their forms; like second shadows in the falling light of day. There were many of them, heading towards a single spot at the head of the sloping lawns. Standing tall and bold against the darkening sky, the great old castle shone with an ancient power and elegance. With its many turrets and towers, reaching high for the clouds; and the many alcoves hiding secrets unknown. It stood against all; the weather was not enough to take it down and time had only managed to fade the coloring of the stone, holding up its walls.

The figures still poured from the forest, all facing the mighty castle sitting atop the luscious grounds. Like a black wave of fury, the many robed figures approached with powerful strides, all clasping sticks of power in their fists.

Back inside the stone walls of Hogwarts Castle, a small group of people stood together, waiting for the battle to break out. One of them stood apart from the rest, his head tilted towards the others, his eyes flashing with raw fear. With dark hair sticking up across his head and a form tall and strong, he held power beyond belief. But his eyes, so bright and enchanting, were holding a feeling so intense and consuming; fear.

A time passed that brought three of them to the front, standing before the great oak doors, leading to the fatal outside. The one in the middle had his eyes forced forward, but his hands were shaking in uncontrollable panic. It was not panic for his own life, but those on either side of him. It was for his strong-hearted brother; like a brave soldier heading to battle. And it was for his love; his life. She was what had kept him going through all these years. She was what had brought the light to extinguish the darkness of his life. She was his savior. His hero.

Then the time came, when the mighty doors opened, revealing the army of dark before them. The grounds were no longer peaceful and calm; they were an ocean of moving figures, all threatening to take all he held dear. With a last breath of courage and a beating heart, he looked at the soldier standing tall and at his hero, carrying his heart. Then he turned to face the monsters who stared up at him with eyes of known fury, and he smiled a smile of vengeance.

oOo

Hermione Granger jerked awake. Her heart was beating frantically in her ribcage and sweat was beaded on her forehead. Tears of pain and sadness were streaming from her eyes and she did not bother to wipe them away. With a rattling breath and shaking hands, she drew her knees up to her chest and pulled the blankets tighter against her body.

A storm raged outside; she could feel the thunder in the heavens and hear the wind howling under her door. Frost covered her partly curtained window and she could see white sheets of snow falling from the sky. The floorboards were creaking at odd intervals, giving the signs of another presence in the house. Hermione drew in her breath when her door opened a crack and a dark form slipped in.

A weight jumped open her bed and she sighed as the purring of her cat gave away its position. Hermione felt the padded paws of her feline familiar make their way towards her on the springy bed. She fumbled in the darkness, finally feeling the cat's soft fur. She picked him up and brought him to her chest, where it's constant purring grew steadily louder.

“Oh, Crookshanks,” she murmured into his ginger hair, her tears dropping to be lost in the dark. He had visited her again. This time in a memory, the worst memory of all. That had been the day when the greatest battle was fought on the grounds of Hogwarts Castle. Students, teachers, Aurors and Order of the Phoenix Members had spilt onto the grounds after Harry. House-elves, giants, goblins, centaurs and even a few Acromantulas had fought on their side against creatures such as trolls, manticores, other giants and even dragons. It had been the most historic event in Wizarding History since Albus Dumbledore's defeat of Grindelward. And she had been part of it.

Out on the battle field, with Ron and Harry at her sides, she had fought for her life and those around her. After years of training for that day, it had been forever imprinted on her mind, and she would never forget it. The screams of her friends would always ring in her ears and she would always see the death when her eyes closed. She would never know how Harry had coped with it for so long. He had seen Voldemort at only fourteen and from that day he had dreamt of that monster and seen him wherever he went.

And she still awoke, screaming like that day, thinking she was back fighting against the Dark Army. That the people she cared for were falling from fatal curses or the claws of some savage beast. She had seen so much death that day and had felt so much fear she thought herself to drown in the darkness of her being. But Harry had brought her back out then, as he did for so many others. He didn't think nothing of it while the ones he saved were left staring after him.

He didn't even realize what he meant to some people. To mostly everyone he was a hero, a fighter and leader. He was the Boy-Who-Lived, savior of the Wizarding World, boy of the light.

And to some he was Harry Potter, smart student, brave and Quidditch Star. He was the son of Lily and James Potter, godson of the escaped convict Sirius Black and defeater of Voldemort.

And to a select few, he was just Harry. He was quiet and clever, a leader and one to stick up for his friends. He was their best friend; funny and an explorer. He was their own defender and hero. He was their light in the dark, their sun in the night, their friend.

He had been always looking for somewhere to belong, somewhere to call home. He had always wanted a family, people who accepted him for who he was not what he had done. He had always wanted a life where he was normal; not a hero, not a leader, not the Boy-Who-Lived. And finally, in seventh year, he had discovered what he wanted, he had had all along.

Hermione brushed away the cool tears only to find more replace them as she remembered one night, long ago...

OoOoO

They were in the Common Room. She was sitting by the fire with Ron and Harry, just enjoying each other's company when the door opened and Professor McGonagall entered. As soon as they saw her, they knew something was wrong. She looked to Harry who had frozen and was staring at the professor with his eyes full of fear.

“Mr. Potter, the headmaster has something to tell you,” the old witch said, her own eyes sparkling with unshed tears. “Why can't you tell me,” Harry answered, his voice was blank and that scared her. The only time Harry spoke with that voice was when he was angry or incredibly scared. She so much wanted to reach over and wrap him in a hug, but she restrained herself.

“But, Albus would like -” The Transfiguration professor began but Harry finished. “I know what the headmaster would like, but I want you to tell me.” And that was when she knew. She knew what had happened and knew that Harry knew as well. She looked to him to find his eyes on her. And she saw pain hidden in his emerald depths and her fears were answered.

“Harry -” She tried, but the boy had stood on his own and had replaced the pain with more anger. “He got them, didn't he?” Harry voiced softly, each word laced with anger. Minerva McGonagall looked startled but nodded once and looked at Harry sympathetically.

“I'm sor -” She started but Harry quieted her with a well placed stare. There was a fire burning in his eyes that Hermione had only seen once before; When Sirius had died.

“Don't be sorry,” Harry hissed as the other's jumped at the coldness of his words. “Don't pity me. I've had enough sympathy in my life to last for another lifetime. If you have to pity anyone, pity Voldemort when I find him. But don't pity me.” Hermione stood and tried t reach for him. His eyes softened he looked to her, but he merely stepped away, the anger replacing the sorrow as always.

“The Dursley's were not my family. They were merely people I was forced to live with each summer. They were never, and never will be my family. I have no family.” He said and Hermione felt like crying at the harshness of voice. Her best friend had led such a broken life. With Voldemort hanging around him like a second shadow and pain lapping at his heels, how could he ever lead a normal life?

“But you have a family!” She cried, trying to get him to understand. He turned his fiery gaze to her own, and she watched them flicker with some unknown emotion. “My family died along with my soul the night Voldemort placed this scar upon my head,” Harry said blankly although pain was now evident in his hollow words.

“No, Harry, you're family is here, now. I am your family, as is Ron. We have always been here, and always will be.” She said softly, reaching for his arm. But he jerked away. And what was that she saw in his eyes . . . fear?

“Harry?”

“Don't say that,” he hissed. “Say what?” She said, confused.

“That you will always be here, because that's a promise you can't keep.” Now she understood that fleeting flash of fear in his eyes. He was scared that she and Ron would leave him, as so many other people had done. But that wasn't going to happen anytime soon, not if she could help it.

“We aren't going to leave you, Harry.” She said truthfully, willing him to believe it. “Not if you can help it,” He countered strongly. Hermione shook her head, hating to see him so vulnerable. She glanced at Ron, who was sitting speechless on the sofa, his freckly face pale and hair bright in the flickering flames of the fire.

“No, but if we can help it, we will stay with you. We wouldn't want it any other way. You're our family, Harry, just like we're yours. You can't just leave us, Harry, we couldn't handle that. Remember, you're not alone.” Hermione said, watching his face change from anger to fear to confusion. Then it went blank.

“I don't want to loose you,” he whispered softly, eyes shining in fear. “You won't.” Hermione answered, reaching for his hand and squeezing it tightly. She finally realized she was crying and smiled despite the circumstances.

“You belong here, Harry, with me. We're your family and I will always be here for you. You don't know how much we care for you, and just you.” She said softly as he brushed away her tears.

OoOoO

“Why do you always haunt me?” Hermione said loudly into the darkness. The storm still raged on and the darkness was still thick with her own misery. Her cat's purrs could be heard as the night wove on.

OoOoO

Hey everyone. Yeah, I know this chapter was crappy. But hey, I wasn't going to continue it! But I never thought so many people would like it! I mean, I posted this on Fanfiction and Portkey and I got 16 for this site and like 34 for Portkey! This was only a one off thing, that I thought up in one second. I'm glad heaps of people reviewed. Well, more like ecstatic. The next chapter will be named: A Stranger in Town. And you all know who that stranger will be...

Please review as always!

Bye

DW

Oh and a reply to one reviewer.

Thestraltamer: I think you were the one who asked for a list of my other stories? If not, oh well!

-- Harry Potter and the Battle of Hogwarts (Being re-written)

-- Behind Emerald Eyes

-- Harry Potter and the New Alliances (I have to re-write this one. There are millions of spelling and grammar mistakes. And the plot-line is crap)

-- Shattered Memories

-- Werewolf Tears (I'll eventually finish this. I have too much going on right now.)

-- One Last Marauder

-- Hero in Hell (This is a collection of two poems I wrote)

-- Thoughts of a Life Broken (Another poem, about Hermione Granger and her greatest sacrifice.)

-- Harry Potter and the Fulfillment of the Prophecy (Sequel to Battle of Hogwarts, and I have to re-write this one also. Just as bad as the first.)

With that done, thanks everyone who reviewed!!!

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3. A Stranger in Town

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.

OoOoO

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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4. Seeing Emerald

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Chapter Four

Seeing Emerald

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His emerald eyes caught hers and she lost herself in the two pools of endless green. The snow drifted down from the heavens, each snowflake identical yet different. The cold wrapped itself around her body, twisting and chilling into her bones. They both stood still, not allowing any movement or shift in eye contact. She could hear her heart beating frantically in her chest, the only sign that what she was seeing was real and not a desperate fantasy.

The wind caught his dark hair, blowing it up away from his face. Her eyes moved to his forehead, where a faint scar sat in the form of a lightning bolt. He self consciously raised a hand and pushed his fringe back down, his emerald eyes glittering.

“Hermione,” he said softly, his voice soft yet strong, catching on the wind, sounding like the most beautiful thing to her pounding ears. She didn't want to believe it, lest it wasn't true. There was no reason that he would be here now after three longs years away. Her limbs were frozen in place. Her breath was white in the freezing air, with snow flakes clinging to her loose locks. She moved her mouth to speak, but no words came out. So many different emotions were coursing through her body and it became overwhelming. The place behind her eyes began to sting and silent tears spilled down her cheeks. A lump had risen in her throat and it felt as though a fire was lit in her stomach.

“Hermione,” he said again, causing a sob to be released from her dry throat. A hand was clamped to her mouth, shaking uncontrollably. His eyes were shining, from either tears or the whipping winds; she didn't know. He still stood there, paying no heed to the falling snow or the ginger cat rubbing against his legs. His eyes were locked on hers, the stare so intense she felt her knees weaken beneath it.

The face that had haunted her dreams for so many nights and had been the inspiration for her novel was right in front of her own eyes, real as the cloudy sky above them. Oh, his beautiful face; stunning and terrifying at the same time. It scared her to see it again, but also caused so much happiness and joy to erupt inside her. His eyes were gazing into her own; every shade of green available. Just looking in them made her feel lost in the thickest rainforest or immersed in the deepest ocean, emerald waves lapping at her heels.

The distant cry of her cat brought her attention back to the stormy sky and the snow covered man before her. His eyes were flickering with some unknown emotion, his lips struggling to keep a smile, his hands fiddling with something to keep from shaking. She tore her gaze away from his eyes, and spotted a copy of her own book clamped in his gloved hands. Her brow furrowed and she suddenly became aware of the tears trickling down her neck.

“H-Harry?” she finally stammered, her voice cracking. A true smile tugged at his lips and his eyes flashed with joy.

“Hello,” he said as if he had talked to her the day before; not three years ago. She let sucked in a breath and closed her eyes briefly. When she opened them and spotted Harry still standing there, she let it out slowly. He smiled uncertainly at her and adjusted the wooly hat on his head.

“What are - why?” she stammered, watching Crookshanks weave between his feet from the corner of her eye. Harry looked down also and a grin appeared across his face. Bending, he picked up the purring feline and rested it in his arms.

“Crookshanks, my old friend,” he murmured, looking back up at Hermione. She could now move and she took a shaky step backward.

“What are you doing here?” she said in no more than a whisper. A shadow passed over his eyes before his characteristic sparkle lit back up.

“To see you,” he answered softly. And with those words, Hermione knew he was telling the truth. Besides, who else would he know in Redriver? But before she could speak again, he had placed Crookshanks back on the ground and had begun to round up her groceries, stuffing them in her discarded bag.

“Maybe we should get out of the cold, I don't want you getting sick,” he said with a smile while she shook her head sadly. He had been gone for three years and he was already worrying about her like he used to.

“Ok,” she said vacantly, still not believing that Harry was here, with her. Letting a frown make its way across her forehead, she allowed him to go before her through the gate, wanting to keep both eyes on him incase he decided to disappear again. As he walked a few steps in front, she stared intensely at the back of his head, wondering what he was doing back. He glanced back at her as he stepped onto the first stair, a puzzled look on his face. Crookshanks brought up the rear, his padded feet squelching on the icy path.

At the top, Harry moved to the side, to let her unlock the front door. Hermione glanced at him nervously before pulling out a chain and sliding a key into the lock. She paused briefly as she turned the doorknob, glancing sideways to Harry and down at the cat weaving between her feet. With a deep breath, she pushed the door open.

A wave of warmth billowed from the inside as the two of them quickly stepped inside, Harry a bit cautiously, his eyes scanning the room with a curious gaze. Snow was blown in from the outside and Hermione quickly shut the door, standing with her hand on the wooden frame for a few minutes. There was a nervous silence as she slowly turned, to stare at Harry Potter. Her friend.

She once more got lost in his familiar emerald eyes, and her breath caught in her throat as many memories surfaced to her mind. No more tears were running down her cheeks and her first joy at seeing him was replaced by confusion.

“What are you doing here?” she said plainly even though it pained her to say it as she removed her coat and shoes. She could not forgive him easily for abandoning her for three years, without so much as an owl. A brief flicker of sorrow flashed through his eyes before he hid it by looking to the floor.

“I - wanted to see you,” he said in a hurt voice as he shuffled his feet nervously. Hermione refrained from jumping forwards and wrapping him in a hug, instead she pursed her lips, masking her own pain.

“You've already said that. But why now? Why after three years without even sending me a letter to tell me you were ok!” Hermione cried, her voice breaking slightly. Another lump had risen in her throat, and she was fighting the tears that threatened to fall. He looked up at her and she felt her heart miss a beat. There was so much remorse and pain in his gaze than she had ever seen before. If it hadn't been for her annoyance at him, she would've tackled him to the ground.

“I needed time to think.” He said.

“Yeah, three years of it!” Hermione snapped. She hadn't meant to sound so savage, and she immediately wished to take it back from the look on his face.

“M-maybe I shouldn't have come back...” he said softly, turning and placing a hand on the door handle.

“Wait!” Hermione said, mentally berating herself when he looked at her with those hauntingly beautiful eyes. She looked out of the window beside the doorway to see a white wall of snow falling from the sky. “You won't be able to go out know. Not in this weather anyway.” He nodded and shifted his feet nervously, looking to her eyes then to the floor. Crookshanks paced the space between them, meowing first at Hermione than to Harry. They both looked at him simultaneously.

“I guess he's hungry,” Hermione said, chuckling falsely. Harry smiled uncertainly as she let her fake smile drop. “Come wait in the lounge room while I fix him his meal.” She started to walk from the hall, hearing him shuffling along behind her. She left him standing in the middle of the lounge room, the fire crackling merrily as if nothing was wrong.

Once in the kitchen, Hermione grabbed the bench to stop from collapsing to the ground. The tears she had struggled to keep hold of fell down her cheeks, stinging her skin from too much time in the cold air. Cold prickles were racing along her flesh, causing the hairs on her arms and the back of her neck to lift. Waves of different emotions were crashing down upon her, causing her chest to constrict painfully.

Old memories and flashes of the past built up in her mind, causing her breath to catch in her throat. She remembered the times when they had been together, smiling, laughing in the ancient halls of Hogwarts. They had thought they would never be apart. Her, Harry and Ron, the Famous Gryffindor Trio, a friendship meant to last forever. They thought Voldemort was the one trying to tear them apart. Little did they know that Voldemort was the one keeping them together.

Tears slipped down her cheeks, her neck, mingling with the melting snowflakes. Her loose hair stuck to her wet cheeks and she felt her knees give out beneath her. She suddenly found herself in a pile on her kitchen tiles, her hands clinging uselessly to her damp pants.

“Hermione?” his voice brought another round of painful sobs to erupt in her throat and she felt a slight pressure on her back. She looked blearily up to see a pair of concerned green eyes staring down at her. Her body began to shake uncontrollably until she found herself wrapped in the comforting arms of Harry.

She remembered feeling this way. Safe, as if nothing would ever harm her. He used to hug her at school, when she awoke from a bad dream or when something upset her. He used to whisper words into her ears; that everything would be fine and nothing would hurt her while he was there. His strong arms encircled her frail body and she wept loudly into his chest, her hands hitting him endlessly. He didn't budge; he just pulled her closer, his mouth coming to a rest by her ear.

“I am so sorry, Mione. But I'm here now. I won't leave you again. I promise.” His words echoed into her mind, mixing with her already jumbled thoughts. She stopped beating him and dropped into his lap, tears causing a damp patch on his dark sweater. She sobbed loudly, crying painfully into her friends shoulder. After a time, she calmed down, though her tears still fell. They stayed in silence. Harry held her. There were no words needed.

Soon, Hermione found herself listening to the steady beat of her own heart, thumping in rhythm with his. Her eyelids grew heavy, the many sleepless nights finally catching up with her exhausted body. She felt warm in Harry's embrace; warm, comfortable and at home. Finally, her eyelids closed and her thoughts turned to the man whose arms she rested. He was back. Her hero was home.

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The faint sunlight streaming through the partly lit curtains woke her. Blinking her eyes from the sudden light, she wondered why she was lying in her bed, the covers up over her chest. It was quite relaxing, lying in the warmth, her mind at rest in the early morning. But as she thought of the previous night, and remembered the man out in the snow, the bed became immediately uncomfortable.

Sitting up quickly, she experienced a head spin. She clutched it in agony, sitting for a moment until it cleared. She swung her legs over the edge of the bed, searching the room for signs of other life. Seeing nothing of difference, she climbed from the bed, noticing that she was still wearing the clothes from the previous day. Thinking of the night before, she immediately felt her face flush.

She couldn't believe she had reacted so badly, collapsing in the kitchen with Harry awkwardly comforting her. It had been the most happy and painful night she could ever remember in her three years away from Hogwarts. Harry was back after being missing for so long.

Creeping from her room, she jumped at every shadow her form cast. Her socked feet padded silently across the carpet in the hall; the air cold and biting at her exposed skin. Rubbing her arms quickly in an attempt to warm them up, she walked into the kitchen. Everything was as it should be. The sink and benches were clean, just as she liked them. But one thing made her realize that there was another presence in the house. An empty glass sat on the table in the joining Dining Room. It was such a simple thing, but she now knew that the day before hadn't been a dream. She would never have left a glass on the table, that meant that Harry was still there.

Breathing unsteadily, she slowly walked across the tiled floor, stepping onto the soft carpet of the Dining Room. She stared at the glass as if it would give her answers, before glancing in the direction of the Lounge Room, where a strange noise could be heard. Flexing her fingers at her sides and taking a shaky breath, she started an anxious walk towards the other end of the house.

It took her a minute to get there and when she did, she froze in place. The odd sound turned out to be Crookshanks. The ginger feline was curled up on the couch, upon the chest of a black haired man. Hermione's breath caught in her throat as she watched him sleep and she found herself involuntarily moving closer.

He looked so happy and peaceful when he slept. His face was smooth and free of lines, with his mouth slightly open, one hand at the back of his head and the other hanging to the floor. His eyelids flickered once and his brow furrowed, before smoothing again. As she watched him, his lips came together to a smile and he shifted his shoulders slightly. Crookshanks looked up at her with his golden gaze and he purred a little louder.

Harry was so tall that his legs overlapped the over end of the couch by a good two - foot, and he looked mightily uncomfortable. Hermione noticed that he was shaking, so she pulled a blanket from the cupboard in the hall and placed it gently over his sleeping form. Crookshanks climbed angrily out from beneath it but settled down soon on top.

Just as Hermione was about to lave the room, a slight glitter of something caught her eyes. She moved a little closer to Harry and placed a hand quickly to her mouth to stifle the sob rising. On his hand, shining in the faint morning light upon his finger was a ring. But not just any ring. The ring she had gotten him in their seventh year.

Hermione fled from the room, her heart beating frantically in her chest. As she entered the kitchen, tears falling from her eyes, she spotted another thing signaling another person in the house. An empty tin of cat food was sitting in the sink.

At least he had the decency to feed Crookshanks she thought as a small smile graced her lips. As she placed the can in the bin, she thought back to the ring. She couldn't believe he still had it, little lone wore it. It brought happiness to her heart knowing he still cared enough about her to wear the ring, a symbol of their endless friendship. She turned back around, thinking of going back into the Lounge Room to watch him sleep, when a figure in the doorway caused her heart to flutter, out of both shock and joy.

“Morning, Hermione.” Harry said.

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- Disclaimer -

I do not own Harry Potter and never will.

G'day my fellow readers!

Yes, I know it's been a while since the last update, but I'm juggling four stories here. Work with me here! This chapter is a little less dramatic than everyone hoped, but everything should be explained in the next chapter. You'll find out where Harry has been the last three years and what he has been doing.

Also, my Hermione's been awfully emotional, hasn't she? I didn't mean to make her all teary, but that's how she wanted to come out. You can't blame her really. She lost her only love when Hogwarts finished when he left her alone to journey somewhere. She has been isolated from her friends for years, with only her thoughts for company and memories to fuel her want for Harry and Ron. Her dreams have made her tired and drove her to her limit both emotionally and physically, hence her collapse and breakdown.

I'm not sure when we will see Ron, probably not for a few chapters. But I have a surprise for you all when he comes, and it's going to be good! I was going to have it happen to Hermione and Harry, and I was like, `No, I'll leave it and give it to Ron.' You'll see soon. LOL.

I haven't got really anything planned for this story, so if anyone wants to give me any ideas for something to write about, be most welcome to in a review! Thanks everyone who has reviewed so far, they are so encouraging!

Bye until next time!

DW

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5. Absences Explained

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Chapter Five

Absences Explained

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“Harry -- you startled me!” Hermione said, kneeling to pick up the mug, she had dropped in shock. Harry being Harry, he came forward to help her. As they were picking up the broken pieces of the once ceramic mug, her hand brushed against his. They eyes met in the middle, both not daring to move. Hermione found her heart thumping loudly in her chest. Surely, he can hear that?

She lost herself in his eyes: both wonderful and frightening at the same time. He continued to stare in her eyes, making her incredibly weak and uncomfortable. Hating herself, she broke their eye contact and stood quickly, brushing down her clothes, while depositing the shards of glass into the trash bin. She looked back to see Harry looking slightly putout, his eyes sad. As much as she wanted to immediately forgive him, she knew she couldn't.

Standing defiantly, planting her hands on her hips, Hermione raised an eyebrow at her long-time best friend. “I think we need to have a talk.” The words rang loudly in the otherwise silent kitchen, even the tap held back its familiar drip. Crookshanks paused in the doorway, his mouth open in a silent meow. They looked at each other, before Harry dropped his gaze.

“Okay…” his voice sounded so resigned, as if he was too weak to put up a fight. Hermione felt her resolve drop before she pushed it back up. Without looking at him, she strode purposely from the room, not daring to glance back. As she entered the Lounge Room, she was startled to find Harry's blanket folded neatly, resting on the back of the couch. He has matured then she thought with a wry smirk.

She stood stiffly as Harry walked slowly into the room. She pointed to an armchair bossily, as he slung his head and followed her silent orders. Even three years out of Hogwarts, Hermione was still the bossiest person you would know. She stared down at the man she once knew, watching as he fiddled with a thread sticking from the armrest. Deciding he was officially scared and nervous, she took her seat on a soft chair opposite him.

There was an uncomfortable stillness in which Hermione kept her forced fierce gaze on the back of Harry's head, as he stared down at his lap. It seemed an eternity before he looked up, their eyes meeting. Waiting for this moment, Hermione took a deep breath.

“Explain.” He looked at her with a blank expression before amusement flashed across his emerald gaze.

“About what?” he asked, feigning playful ignorance. Hermione didn't buy it though and only raised an annoyed brown eyebrow. He dropped his humorous face to adopt one of quiet contemplation. “What do you want to know?” he asked in a soft voice, watching her with a sad gaze.

She was not deterred and kept her stern expression. “Everything.”

If it was even possible, Harry looked older now than he had ever done. In his younger years, he had been forced to grow up before his time. All of them had. They were expected to be strong, leaders for those younger. They had been in the middle of a war, causing them to face horrors they shouldn't have had to face in their entire lifetime. But they had done it all and still managed to have some good times, however short and few they were.

In seven short years, they had grown wise beyond their years. Even those double their age had looked up at them, standing bravely against numerous foes. And Harry had taken the worst of it. After over a decade of mistreatment and abuse by his relatives, he was not broken. After seven years of torture from both enemy and friend, he was not broken. After seven years of battle after battle and seeing death after death, he was not broken.

But now, after a mere three years alone, he was shattered. As the cup had been smashed on the hard kitchen floor, his life had been split into tiny fragments of memories and emotions. His dull eyes told her all he needed to know. But still she listened.

“I suppose it all started when I left Platform and Three Quarters over three years ago…,” he said with a sigh, eyes vacant as if he were reliving that day once more. It was a moment before he continued his voice full of hurt and pain. “That was by far the worst day of my life. To leave my family and friends willingly…but it was a hard choice to make. But I needed to go.”

“Why?” Hermione said, her emotional shield fracturing. She usually wasn't one to interrupt a story or speech, but she felt the need to say something. He looked at her with a faint smile that she had almost forgotten.

“I needed time to think and to sort out my life…,” he said glancing down as Crookshanks strolled into the room. He seemed to be making a mental decision about who to go to; in the end, he decided upon his master, and pounced onto Hermione's lap. His lamp-like eyes turned to him, as if waiting for him to continue speaking. Harry smiled and thought like master like animal.

“After loading my bags up with money, I decided to leave London. I'd never been anywhere other than Britain and Hogwarts, so I decided to do a little exploring. I'd heard how nice France was supposed to be, so I slowly travelled over the channel with a group of tourists. I split from them at Boulogne heading towards Paris…it's so beautiful there, Hermione, you'd love it!” Harry said with one of his old twinkles back in his eye. Hermione smiled.

“I've been; it is quite lovely. Please, continue…”

“Oh - right…” Harry thought for a moment before recovering from where he left off. “As I was saying, it's great there. The Eiffel Tower is so tall! I stayed in a hotel not far form it so I could stare at it as night set in. All these lights lit up at the bottom and along the sides -- it reminded me of Hogwarts for some reason.” A wistful look appeared in his eyes as he remembered the great school, before continuing his tale.

“I didn't spend long in Paris. It was nice and all, but I couldn't find what I was looking for.”

“And what was that?” Hermione asked softly, really getting into the story, almost forgetting his anger at the green-eyed boy. He looked to her and smiled sadly.

“Myself.”

“Oh…” was all she said, leaning back in her chair. If she was expecting anything, it wasn't that.

“I went through Italy, not stopping although I did have a look through some of the Roman museums. It was really historical!” He said, watching her face with a grin. Hermione shot a glare at her as he chuckled. “No, it was so beautiful there. You walk down the streets, with all these ancient buildings, and you can practically feel the history of the place. I apparated over to Greece, hearing about this nice call Wizarding village there from a fellow I met in Rome. He told me where the apparation point was so I left Italy and landed in a spot just out of Athens. I'm telling you Hermione, I could practically feel the magic coming out of the ground and the buildings. It was so strong, and I could hardly breathe in some ancient monuments because of all the magical energy!” Harry said with awe, his eyebrows getting lost in his messy hair. For a second, Hermione spotted that little boy she used to know, shining from his eyes.

But it was gone just as quickly as it came, leaving her feeling empty and hollow inside.

“I spent a few months in Athens, just exploring and meeting a few people. I was lucky there as hardly anybody knew me; none of them had been involved in the war, and they wanted it that way. They were so clueless about the outside word, that's probably why I stayed there so long. But soon, I grew restless, as I still couldn't find the missing piece. So I set off again, leaving behind a few good friends and a cosy hotel room. At first, it felt weird to be away from all the ancient magic. It was as if something was missing. Something important. But I soon got used to the feeling, making my way through Romania and then Russia.” Harry's face grew troubled and his eyes shone with something dark.

“I wouldn't recommend going there, Hermione.” He said, shaking his head quickly.

“Why?” Hermione asked with a puzzled gaze. She had always wanted to take a vacation to Russia, hearing it was the birthplace of all the ancient rituals.

“Trust me. Don't go there. They have all these underground occults running, full of Blood Rituals and sacrificing. I was lucky I got out alive when one of them recognized me. They chased me halfway across the country, threatening to sacrifice my `unholy' body to the gods to reclaim their master back!”

“One guess who their `master' was…” Hermione said with a frustrated glare. People were so savage.

“So I skipped through Russia pretty quickly, not wanting to be part of any sacrilegious ceremony!” Harry visibly shuddered, running a hand through his hair. “That's why I disguised myself and changed my name to James Evans. That way, I wouldn't get hassled because of my past…” he furrowed his brow, eyes flashing in anger before being replaced with fake cheer.

“I stayed in China for another month of two, learning about the different arts of magic and life. I even learnt part of their lifestyle and language - a bit, but not much. It was really great seeing things from another's point of view and another way of life. But I started to miss Britain and all you guys -- especially you.” Harry looked uncertainly at her as she smiled faintly.

“Australia was by far the best. It was so relaxed down there but too hot. Their climate was sweltering and I had to buy a completely new wardrobe to keep from melting. But the people were really welcoming and the Australian Ministry of Magic was so different from ours. Instead of a single minister, they have a whole board of representatives, who sort out the problems together. Of course, there is a head representative who has the power to overrule to a certain point - but other than that, they work and treat everyone equally. And I swear, as I was in the desert, I seen one of those Yowies!” Harry exclaimed as Hermione dissolved into giggles.

“I spent almost a year lounging under the sun - can you tell!” he said, showing her his tanned arm with a joyful grin. She smiled at him and nodded.

“Yes, I can.”

“So, hmmm…” he scratched his eyebrow. “Oh - I left Australia at the end of my second year away, and decided to go to America and see what all the fuss was about that Salem's Academy. It's pretty nice, set in the middle of this huge forest with all these mountain ranges behind it. It was nice, but not as good as Hogwarts.” Hermione nodded eagerly. She had heart a lot about the American Wizardry School, and desperately wanted to see it.

“And they let you just go in and have a look around?” Hermione asked in disbelief, knowing about the Statute of Secrecy running between each school. Harry grinned foolishly, his eyes sparkling in mischief.

“Well…not exactly.” He said with a broad grin. Hermione looked at him appalled.

“What did you do?” she demanded, leaning forwards in her plush armchair. Harry laughed, running a hand through his hair again. Hermione noticed that he was doing that more than usual and she figured it was to do with nerves.

“I sort of - kind of - posed as a professor wanting to teach the Dark Arts there…” Harry trailed off with a guilty grin.

“You did what!” Hermione said in anguish. She couldn't believe that Harry - her Harry - would do something so illegal!”

“It wasn't against the law, Hermione!” Harry said as if reading her thoughts. “I actually was considering taking the job. I just dropped out at the last minute after exploring the castle! No one was the wiser!” he said with a lopsided grin and a sparkle in his eyes. Hermione groaned in disbelief, placing a hand over her eyes.

“I cannot believe you!” she muttered under her breath, as Harry's smile faded and a strange look came into his eyes as he stared at her. Catching his peculiar gaze, she said, “What?”

“Nothing; nothing…so, I went to America and stayed there for a few weeks. New York is so hectic! I got lost more than three times, and almost was hit by a taxi; twice! The streets were completely packed and I could hardly move! People were so rude, especially the businessmen who pushed me everywhere. The nicest people were those living on the streets - I actually shared a box with this man one night. His name was Howard and I couldn't find a place to stay so he offered me a spot in this old television box. And I'm telling you - that was the scariest night of my life!” Hermione laughed aloud at the truly horrified look on Harry's face as he shook his head.

“Voldemort be damned - spending a night in a water-soluble shelter, is no way to go. The gangsters were no help either. I could have hexed them to next year when they tried to steal our box. Howard went mental at them and the last I seen of him was chasing them down the street. Luckily, it was almost morning and I didn't have to spend another second in the soggy box!” Harry said with a shiver.

Hermione laughed with humour. She couldn't imagine Harry and a homeless man squeezed up in a box, on a street of New York City. The press would have a field day knowing there hero had stooped so low.

“But it was good, in a way.” Harry added, with a smile. At Hermione's confused face he said, “It made me realise how bad my life could've been. Instead of having a room in Privet Drive, I could've been living in this dark alley somewhere or an orphanage. Seeing things from Howard's point made me appreciate the good things I had in life instead of all the bad. It made me realise how bad some people truly had it. At least I was fed and had a safe place to sleep. Some people don't even have clothes!”

Hermione was startled at his outburst. This was no longer the broody, hurt teenager she had left at the train station. He had been turned into a passionate, determined man. Of course, Harry had always been caring of other people's needs and feelings, but him being in their situation made him see things for the first time. And truly appreciate the life he had.

Hermione wasn't sure if she liked this new Harry.

“Erm, by the time I entered Africa, I was really desperate to get home. But I still hadn't found what I wanted, so I stayed in this small, African village with a family of magical folk. They were so kind, Hermione! And so powerful! They didn't even need a wand to do magic - instead they carried a staff thing that was imbedded with a magical core, like wands but with different qualities. Even the children would do magic as if it was a natural thing for them. They just pointed at something and it would do what they asked - no words or wand needed! It was bloody brilliant!” Harry said in awe.

Hermione smiled: that was the old Harry she knew and loved.

“The animals were so weird there as well! There were some lions with forked tongues and bats that could deafen you if they shrieked! I loved just wandering through the forest, listening to all the animals and sitting under these trees with tentacles, that sang to you. I spent a month there before making my way back here, passing through Spain and back across France. But I didn't come straight home, instead I stayed in Scotland a while; it was relaxing. It just needed some time close to home, to sort through my thoughts.” Harry sighed here, taking his glasses off and rubbing his eyes.

“When Voldemort died I was lost. My purpose in life was fulfilled - what more was there? I had never lived a normal life before, I felt somewhat hollow without the presence of Tom in my head; I didn't know if I liked the feeling or not. I escaped to try to fill that emptiness, to find something more that I could do. Albus told me that I was free and I could do whatever I wanted. But I didn't know what I wanted. It was a strange time in my life. When I defeated Voldemort, it felt as though I didn't belong. That my purpose in life was over after I fulfilled the prophecy.

“Everyone was congratulating me. Telling me how brave and courageous I was to murder Voldemort. Because that's what I did, Hermione. I murdered someone! Even if Voldemort was more monster than human, it was still a life! I felt dirty but people kept congratulating me. It sounded as if they were congratulating me for killing someone!

“And the press didn't help matters! Every time I looked at the paper, I would see my face, telling the world of my heroics! They didn't know that I didn't have a choice to kill Voldemort or not! My fate was determined before I was even born! Even after Voldemort killed my parents, Cedric, Sirius, the Dursleys, and hurt everyone I ever cared about - I really didn't think about killing him, it seemed like a bad dream that I couldn't be woken from.

“Then the end of school came and I made my decision to travel the world, to try to find myself in some other country. It hurt like hell stepping off the train knowing it would be the last time I ever did it. And it hurt even more when I knew I had to leave you - everyone. But if I hadn't have gone, I don't know what would have happened. If I hadn't have gone, I wouldn't have realised that what I was looking for was here all along!” Harry said passionately, looking across into Hermione's eyes. In them, she saw pain and sorrow, but also a fierce truth. She felt the space behind her eyes sting with unwanted tears.

“I meant what I said before I left you, Hermione. I will always love you.” He said it with such sincerity and raw emotion that she found the tears spilling down her cheeks; she didn't try to stop them.

“I know…,” she whispered.

…………------------…………------------…………

- Disclaimer -

I do not own Harry Potter and never will.

Hey everyone!

Here's the newest chapter, out much sooner than any of the others. I've just been on a roll, updating all my stories in the last couple of days! Are you proud? But this will probably mean no more updates until next week, or later! Sorry, but if I get another burst of creativity, I will write faster.

Please review and thanks to everyone who has so far!

Later Days…

DW

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6. Not All Things Stay the Same

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Chapter Six

Not All Things Stay the Same

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She would give anything to keep that look upon his face for all time. She would give all her happiness and wealth, just to see that look remain upon his face for just a little longer.

His eyes were alight in happiness and the youth he had long since grown out of. Her words stripped the haggard look caused by the brutal war from his appearance, so he looked every bit of his twenty years. The true smile gracing his lips made her heart soar with pleasure, but everything came crashing horribly back and her breath caught sharply in her throat.

The tears streaking softly down her cheeks met the harsh material of her sweater as she brushed them hastily away. If Harry had wanted to make her cry and forgive him for leaving her when she needed him, he had another thing coming. It would take more than a story and a few choice words to heal the wound left by his leaving three years passed. It would take a lot more.

Harry sat directly across from her, but as she wiped the salty tears away, he stood and made his way towards her. He knelt on his knees on floor and began to reach for her shaking hands. His skin met hers and he squeezed lightly. Hermione ripped her hand away, shooting a painful glare straight into his startled eyes.

“Hermione, I thought -”

“What, Harry? What did you think?” she said, standing and pushing past him, to stand a few meters away near the wall. “Did you think I would welcome you back with open arms? Did you think I would forget what you did to me? To everyone?” A fierce fire was blazing in her once kind brown eyes, and her hair crackled with fury. Harry's face fell, and the sad, haunting look appeared once more in his eyes as he struggled to stand.

“Hermione, I said I'm sorry!” he tried to reason with her, and he went to step closer. She held up her hands, glaring furiously at him.

“Don't come any closer.” He stopped and just stared at her with his goddamned beautiful eyes. “I know you're sorry. But sorry won't make up for the three years you were gone. Sorry won't take away the days I sat crying because I was alone and hurting. Sorry won't make me forgive you for leaving me.” And the tears stung at her eyes again, this time in remembrance of those hard time in which she struggled to live through.

Each of her words was like a blow to his heart. She could see him physically drain of energy right in front of her. His eyes lost their sparkle, leaving them dull apart from the haunting look of pain. She was too angry to care.

“You're story was really nice. Harry. I'm happy you were so easily able to get away. Meanwhile, the people you left behind had to live through the aftermath of war. We had to try to rise back up without the person who had saved us in the first place. And while you were off gallivanting around the world, some of us had to pick up the pieces of our old lives, and try to repair the damage Voldemort caused. Because, Harry, if you didn't know, you left us without a leader. We tried to rebuild our world, after more than three years of Voldemort destroying it.”

Hermione couldn't stop the hatred she felt for Harry, even though she so desperately wanted to love him. She couldn't bring herself to forgive him for what he did to everyone -- for what he did to her. The retched tears continued to fall, burning her skin as if they were acid. And she was startled to see Harry's eyes glistening with tears, although they stayed defiantly still, refusing to drip away.

“I left -”

“- left to find yourself, I know!” Hermione yelled angrily. “But you could have found yourself here.” Her voice lowered and she hated how desperate it sounded. “Why did you have to leave for three years, to find something you could have found while being with me?” Her hands started to shake with anger and fear; she hastily crossed her arms, not wanting to show him how weak she was. “Because that's how long I was alone, Harry. Three years. THREE BLOODY YEARS!”

Harry winced at the volume of her voice and his mouth moved soundlessly, as if trying to find the right words. Hermione shook her head, a sick smile spreading across her lips. She chuckled darkly. “Not that you would have cared while sun-baking Australia, searching for the elusive Yowie. That must have been fun! You know what? Maybe I should've gone with you, that way, I wouldn't have had to remember all the people who had died, or wouldn't have had to stay in London to help the world survive after the war. You know what? I really should have been sun-baking instead of bothering to miss YOU!”

“Do you think I liked being away from you?” Harry said his voice low and dripping with misery. Hermione refused to feel guilty for causing that much pain.

“I don't know, Harry! How was I supposed to know; I haven't heard from you in THREE YEARS!” she yelled mockingly, her false grin vanishing.

“YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND!” He shouted. It was the tone of his voice other than the volume that startled her more; it was practically made of fear.

“Than make me understand, Harry. Make me understand why you left. And don't give me that `I was trying to find myself' crap. Because it's not good enough.” Hermione said in a deadly hiss, her eyes flashing with anger. Harry stared at her through eyes laced with uncertainty, as he placed a shaking hand over his eyes before sighing.

“How could I stay in a place that reminded me of all the things I lost?” he said it so softly that she strained to hear it. “Everything I looked at reminded me of Voldemort -- even you. I couldn't even look at myself in the mirror; all I could see was his face looking back. Even after I killed him he tormented me! I didn't know how to get away! Everything felt so wrong in my life, including the things I thought were the only right. I left not only to find myself but also to get away from myself. Cowardly, I know.” He laughed bitterly, a dark glint growing in his eyes.

Hermione felt her heart thump painfully behind her ribcage, and she swallowed the angry remark wanting to burst from her mouth. Instead, she willed him to continue with her eyes.

“But I couldn't escape, Hermione. No matter how far I ran! I tried to get away form my past, but I met it everywhere - especially in my dreams. As soon as I closed my eyes I relived the worst days of my life -- Voldemort's rebirth, Sirius's death, the final battle, and that day on Platform Nine and Three Quarters.” The last part was said in a low whisper, his eyes pleading with her to understand. She shook her head even as a tear rolled from her chin. He sighed.

“I didn't want to leave you, Hermione. I didn't want to leave anyone. But I had to get away! I couldn't even look at you without feeling guilt and seeing you fall on the battlefield.” His voice cracked and he looked quickly down. But not before she caught the tears spilling down his face.

Her own heart tripped at the thought of that memory. She thought of it each day, and each time she felt a sharp pang of feeling across her stomach.

...---...---...

The grounds were lit with the many spells fired from wands, that streaked through the cool air. Screams of pain and anguish mixed with the triumphant cries of the battlers as one of their enemies fell. The once green glass was splashed with crimson blood, its owner lying still not far from it, eyes closed for all eternity.

She fired a jet of light forward, and watched as it hit its target with a sickening thud as the body collapsed to the ground. There was no pleasure in causing pain to another being but this was a war, and she would do anything in her power to speed up its ending.

After sending off another well aimed spell that took done an opponent, she spotted the one person she was fighting for. Her heart thudded in her chest as her eyes trailed to his challenger, the monster's blood-red eyes glowing in the fading light. But the fight had been going for far too long, and it was clearly showing by the sheet of sweat covering the Dark Lords pale, snake-like face.

But her momentary pause was too long as she heard a desperate cry. Her head turned to Harry; his emerald eyes wide in unnatural fear as he stared at a spot behind her. She felt the spell strike through her middle, tearing apart her flesh to leave the other side as a streak of white light.

The pain was intense and her knees fell out beneath her. There was no strength left in her body and her wand dropped soundlessly to the grass, the ground now covered in her own warm blood. The air was getting harder to suck into her lungs, and each time her lungs expanded, pain shot across her body. She looked down at her stomach through teary eyes, and gasped to see a gaping hole cut through her dark robes.

Blood was silently flooding down her front, soaking her clothes and hands as she helplessly tried to stem the flow. It was useless. Her skin prickled with fear. Her body grew cold and she couldn't stop shivering. She sunk back onto her legs, hands dropping uselessly to her sides, stained scarlet.

She looked up to see Harry be struck by a red light and a ripple of fear ran through her body. But he stood tall and fired a spell back at the monster. His head turned to her and he began to run towards her crumpled body. She shook her head and tried to call out. But her voice was lost in her constricting throat.

She couldn't warn him as a spell hurtled towards him. A quick block on his part sent the purple light back at the Dark Lord, who stepped aside out of its way. The look in Harry's eyes wanted her to reach out and comfort him, but she found her arms wouldn't move. Nothing would.

Even the cold had vanished, leaving her whole body numb and exhausted. He was trying so hard to reach her, and she so wanted him to come to her. But Voldemort kept holding him back, kept him from reaching her. Soon, black spots appeared in her vision and she knew it was no use. She was going to die.

Her head soon found the hard blood-stained grass, her eyes turned to face the dueling wizards. As darkness was taking her with its steely talons, her eyes grew wide at the scene before her. A green flash left Harry's wand, and she had thought Voldemort would duck it like all the others. He didn't.

The Killing Curse met its target and the Dark Lord's slitted eyes grew wide as his wand slipped from his pale hands. Silence fell across the fields; she wasn't sure if it was the final step of her death, or if the fighting had suddenly ceased.

And darkness finally took her as she watched Voldemort fall, dead, to the ground, and see Harry running desperately to her.

...---...---...

She had woken in the Hospital Wing a week later, in pain, but very much alive. She had been struck by a strong Shot-Gun Curse, that was meant to blow a hole through whatever it touched. In this case, her stomach. All thought she would die on that hospital cot from blood loss and internal disintegration. But she proved to be made of stronger stuff, waking up just as they were preparing to give up.

And as soon as her eyes had opened, the first thing she spotted was the loving and haunted gaze of Harry. He had sat by her bed for the whole week, not eating or sleeping, just watching the unsteady rise and fall of her chest. He had been the one to take her from the battlefield, and rescue her from the icy grip of death. If she had been left to bleed for another few minutes, she wouldn't have been savable. Harry had saved her, as he had so many others. And he had sat with her for those seven torturous days, ignoring all save her pale and drawn face, hoping that she would wake. And she had.

Even if her heart begged her to forgive him, to run over and wipe away his tears, she couldn't. Not with her mind reminding her of what he did to her, how he left her all alone with nothing more than memories to keep her company through the long cold nights. He might have saved her on that day, when death was so close to taking her, but he also left her, when she was still healing from that almost fatal blow.

She was now scarred; a horrible reminder of the battle she fought in and the horrors she witnessed. Her sleep was plagued by visions and memories, and she had woken each time to only want to be wrapped in the arms of her hero. But he hadn't been there. He hadn't been there when she needed him.

“I thought of you every day, and I can't remember how many times I found myself writing you a letter.” His voice broke her from the whirlwind of thoughts swirling through her mind. She looked up at him, feeling her shoulders tremble.

“Then why didn't you send them?” she said in a whisper. His eyes darkened.

“I was too scared to.”

Her brow furrowed. “Scared of what?”

“Of what you would say. I was afraid to see your handwriting again because I knew it would make me want to return to you. But - but I wasn't ready to face everything I left behind, even though I wanted to.” She knew he was telling the truth as much as she knew the scar across her stomach and back would never fade.

“I would have told you to come back. I would have said that I missed you and wanted you so badly that it made my heart ache. I would have asked why you left and when you would be back. I would have come to find you.” Hermione said in a soft voice, staring fiercely at him. Harry's eyes were turned to the ground, his shoulders stiff and tensed.

When he looked up, it was with a look so uncertain and fearful she was briefly taken back. “And now?” he said in a voice pleading for an answer, good or bad. Hermione shook her head sadly, looking to the ground.

“I don't know. You can't expect me to forgive you, Harry. I may in time, but three years of no letters, no postcards and no you has made me doubt how much you care for me.” Hermione said truthfully, not looking up. Something touched her arm and she looked up into Harry's shining eyes. She went to step away but he shook his head and reached for her hand. His fingers found the ring still at home on her right hand, and he touched it lightly. Then he fiddled with his own hand and pulled off an identical ring.

“If the amount of love I felt and feel for you has ever dropped, why would I still keep this ring on my finger?” he looked up, and held out his hand, the silver ring glittering in the light. Her eyes misted with tears as Harry smiled softly, stepping back to give her room. “Friends forever and always.” He said the words of the inscription with so much truth and ease that Hermione felt overwhelmed.

The room swum around her and she swayed unsteadily on the spot. Harry's small smile dropped and he hurried forward to grasp her arm. She stepped back against the wall, shaking her head furiously, which only caused the dizziness to worsen.

“Hermione? Are you okay?” Harry asked, concern etched all over his handsome face. Hermione's nod turned into a shake and she stumbled away from him.

“I - need - air -” she stammered, clutching at her chest as she hurried to the front door, not bothering to put a coat or shoes on to shield against the cold. A gust of snow and wind sped in from the outside as Hermione tripped out the door, hearing Harry hurrying after her. She sped up, almost slipping down the icy steps and onto the cobbled path. “No! I want to be alone!” she shouted desperately back at him. Harry looked after her as she pushed through the gate and down the street, the snow falling softly around.

He didn't follow which she was deeply thankful for. Everything had gotten too much. Three days ago, she had been discussing her book with Daniel Moore, wondering if she would ever meet the Boy-Who-Lived again. And now...now he was back and stirring old memories and feelings she thought lost with the Hogwarts Express. She walked hastily down the street, and around the corner, exiting Rosebud Lane. When she turned into the main street, only then did she slow into a walk.

Her thoughts whipped through her head just like the wind along the street. The snowflakes stuck in her hair and face, melting down her streets to mingle with her salty tears. Her eyes were red and puffy from so many hours of crying away her pain, only leaving her emotions frazzled as much as her hair. She knew she looked a wreck, but at the moment she didn't have enough energy to care. Luckily though, the streets were bare, none wanting to step into the freezing cold.

Hermione walked the streets not knowing or even caring where her feet took her. Her mind was on Harry and Harry alone. She had so many mixed feelings over him that it left no room to think of anything else.

She was confused at why he was back after so long. She had been so shocked at seeing him the day before and so angry that morning, that she hadn't thought to ask him why he was actually back. Now that she thought about it, it was a little strange. Was it a coincidence that he turned up just after her book was published? Or was her book the reason he had returned?

Those thoughts spun around her head, leaving her confused and even more alone.

Also, the fact that he was back, brought even more unwanted emotions tumbling through her already full head. What should she do? Should she forgive him and forget his three year absence? Or should she acknowledge his return and gradually forgive him? The second sounded better to her ears; she didn't think she could forget about what he did, how lonely and unwanted he made her feel. She unconsciously twirled the ring on her finger, spinning around on the corner and walking back the way she had just came.

Yes. That was what she would do. She would recognize that he was back, albeit not forgetting certain facts, and she would slowly forgive him and hope the gaping hole in her heart would heal, as it had already started doing.

Even though she hated him for leaving her alone, she loved him for just being him. For being Harry. So many things had changed from their school days, some for the worse and some for the better.

And some things hadn't changed at all.

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- Disclaimer -

I do not own Harry Potter and never will.

Hey.

So, here's the next chapter, though I didn't have Hermione punching Harry as I had planned. Damn. LOL. But she didn't want to and we argued for a while before she won (you know how bossy she can be)! Hehe. I wrote all this today; I thank you, thank you.

Guess what?!?!?!

MY CREATIVITY IS BACK!

And that means I'm going to write a chapter for Shattered Memories. So I will talk to you again there. Okay...hmmm.............. I've decided to keep Hermione's return with Harry separate to that of Ron and the Weasley's meeting Harry. So they will be separate stories. That means this story will only have a few more chapters, maybe three or something. But the sequel/second part shouldn't be out too long after, maybe a week at the most.

I think this chapter was a little longer from the last. I had planned to make this much longer but decided that was a good ending. It was meant to mean that Hermione's love for Harry hadn't changed over all the years, even if most other things had, if anyone didn't realize. ;)

Please review and all that and thanks to everyone who has so far. I hope this chapter didn't disappoint!

Later Days...

DW

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7. Winter Time Warmth

Chapter Seven -

Winter Time Warmth

Hermione stood before the solid wood of her front door.

Her body was completely numb, with cold shivers racing up and down her limbs and spine. It had been snowing heavily for the last hour, with the wind whipping a freezing spray across the ground. Her clothes were soaked through, clinging to her skin. She was sure her lips were purple as they quivered against her rattling teeth.

She had been standing before the door for a good fifteen minutes, not having enough courage to open it and face him again. But she was sure if she stayed out in the freezing cold any longer, she would get hyperthermia or her fingers would fall off from frostbite.

Her heart was thumping quickly beneath her chest, struggling to pump her cold blood through her body. Soon, she started to shake uncontrollably and she decided it would be a little better inside; at least she would be warm. She nervously reached out a hand, knowing the steel of the doorknob would be incredibly cold. But before she could even touch the metal, the door opened from the inside. A warm gust of air billowed out and Hermione sighed in content. Harry stared at her in shock.

“Hermione! Look at you - quick, come inside!” he said hurriedly, pulling her inside and wrapping an arm under her armpits. She didn't have enough energy to push him away; instead, she enjoyed the warmth of his body against hers as he directed her into the Living Room. The fire was roaring in the grate, the flames licking the back of the chimney and dancing out from the bricks. Hermione collapsed onto the couch, too cold and stiff to move. She was only aware of Harry kneeling in front of her, trying to untie the icy laces of her shoes.

Once he had both her shoes off, he pulled the dripping socks from her feet, her toes tinged blue. He stood briskly and struggled to pull the sweater over her head. She didn't move which didn't help things, her body shaking so much it was almost impossible to keep her hands grasped at her waist. The sweater was off and Harry was staring at her awkwardly.

“Hermione, you need to take off your shirt and pants, they'll only make you colder.” His words echoed through her head and she was vaguely aware of nodding, her hands trying to grab the end of her shirt. “Here.” Harry said walking forward and taking her wet shirt out of her hands. “I won't look.” Once her shirt was off, she shivered even more before Harry draped a blanket over her shaking shoulders, his face a delicate shade of red as he tried to avert his gaze from her almost naked chest.

“P-pants...” she stammered, reaching down to unbutton her jeans. But her fingers were so numb they slipped right off the small buttons. Harry placed another blanket over her lap and legs, while his hands fiddled with the top of her jeans, trying to tug them down over her hips. She lifted slightly off the couch, giving him enough room to pull the pants down. She didn't have enough sense to feel embarrassed that Harry was touching her thighs as he struggled to yank the tight, wet jeans from her legs. She was blissfully numb.

Finally, when her legs were free from their frozen enclosure, she sat shivering while Harry disappeared for a minute. When he returned he was carrying an arm full of clothes and blankets. It took a few awkward minutes to push the clean, warm and dry track-pants onto her lower body, with Hermione trying to help as much as she could. It didn't help that Harry couldn't see what he was doing, as the blanket still covered her.

Hermione removed the blanket briefly as Harry pulled a shirt over her head, followed by a thick, black sweater. She drew her knees up to her chest, still shivering madly. Harry placed two blankets over her before sitting next to her on the couch, pulling her to him. With the heat wavering from his body and the blankets wrapped tightly over her cold body, Hermione sighed shakily.

“You'll be OK.” Harry murmured, placing an arm over her shoulders and drawing her closer. She snuggled into his side, her head burrowing into his chest. She was so exhausted that she didn't have enough energy to keep her eyelids opened. They closed painfully, causing her eyes to sting with the sudden warmth. The steady beat of Harry's heart was mesmerizing, and she found herself listening to it, her head growing heavy.

It was so warm and comforting, being this close to Harry. It made her remember old times, in Hogwarts, curled up in front of the fire in the Gryffindor Common Room. Those days had been the happiest of her life. It had been just him and her, together. And now, it was one of those times. Before she knew it, she was asleep, still listening to the heartbeat of her hero.

.........----------..........---------..........

She was asleep in his arms, her head resting softly on his chest. He could see the steady rise and fall of her chest beneath the blankets, and the color had - thankfully - returned to her cheeks.

It had only been two days since his return, and he was already feeling the same feelings he had felt three years ago. Seeing Hermione again made him want to cry with joy. He had forgotten how beautiful she was. And how smart she was. And just how Hermione she was. It all brought a feeling of warmth to his heart, that spread out through his entire body.

For the last three years, he had been searching was something that he had been with all alone. This was his home. This was where he belonged. Not in some other country, with some other people. He should have stayed after Hogwarts. He should have stayed with the people he loved.

He should have stayed with Hermione.

The smell of her hair drifted up to his nose, and he breathed it in with a shudder. The smell of cinnamon and vanilla. He couldn't believe he had left her. She had been everything to him. His confidant, his teacher, and his friend. She had always been there for him, even when Ron wasn't. He could always rely on her, for whatever the reason. He had always loved her.

And he still left.

It had broken his heart to see her so hurt, and for him to be the cause of that pain made his entire being scream with guilt and unfathomable loss. When she had broken down the night before, Harry had been in so much pain. But it was nothing to what she had gone through. For three years she had been alone, left with her darkest memories, while Harry went off exploring the world. He had been so selfish in leaving, just because he was a little confused as to what his life would be like after Voldemort, he had turned a blind eye as to what his leaving would do to others.

He had been completely and utterly blind to Hermione's pain.

And for that, he should have died with Voldemort.

Hermione murmured something in her sleep, burrowing closer into Harry's side, her hands clenching at his jacket. Her face screwed up in confusion, to be placed by fear.

“No, Harry - watch out!” her cries gutted him, and he pulled her as close as he could, resting his head against the top of hers.

“Shhh, it's OK. I'm here now and I won't let anything hurt you.” He whispered into her ear, stroking her damp hair softly. She relaxed into his arms, her fists unclenching. A smile formed on her lips, which were no longer blue. Harry sighed and looked to her peaceful, sleeping face. “I won't leave you again, Hermione. I promise.”

He laid a single kiss to her forehead, letting a salty tear fall.

.........----------..........---------..........

Hermione was back on the battlefield, watching from afar as a green light left Lord Voldemort's wand.

“No, Harry - watch out!” she screamed desperately as the Killing Curse sped closer and closer to the dark haired boy. The spell was going to hit him and there was nothing she could do. It traveled closer, until it was mere inches away. She let a scream come to her lips but it drifted away before it could be released as a voice spoke all around her.

“Shhh, it's OK. I'm here now and I won't let anything hurt you.”

The voice was so familiar. She looked over to see Harry standing alone, staring at her with a smile on his lips. Hermione let herself smile lovingly. He was all right. He was alive.

.........----------..........---------..........

Hermione found herself incredibly warm. Her head was sitting on something comfortable, but it seemed to thump with a steady, slow rhythm. She wondered what it was. Her body was curled alongside a hot wall, her arms wrapped around it tightly, afraid if she let go the warmth would leave her. Something heavy was draped across her back and shoulder, but it was a comfortable weight, keeping her safe. She shifted her legs, feeling them cramp up as they sat tucked beneath her body. She stretched them out, yawning, and sighed as her knees cracked satisfyingly.

The hot wall was making a strange noise, a slightly wheezing one that steadily got louder as her ears become more aware. She really didn't want to open her eyes and spoil the nice darkness, but her curiosity got the better of her.

Luckily, the room was still quite dark, with the glowing embers in the fire spitting occasionally. She waited for her eyes to adjust before looking straight into a blue wall. She frowned, wondering what it was. It seemed to be moving up and down in exact accordance with the strange wheezes. She pushed up with her hands, the wall soft beneath her palms. Her eyes traveled up the moving `pillow' as she decided to call it. They came to a face framed by a halo of black hair, scattered about his forehead. She looked at him curiously, watching as his eyelids flickered and lines on his brow creased. His lips were parted slightly, his breathing deep with slumber.

Hermione felt her breath catch in her throat.

Harry...

The events of the previous day surfaced before her vision and she immediately felt ill. She had let Harry strip the wet clothes from her body, to replace them with warm, dry ones. Then she had sunk down by his side and proceeded to fall asleep on his chest. Things couldn't get any worse.

But, was this really a bad thing?

YES! Her mind screamed. She had allowed Harry to see her almost naked apart from her undergarments, and hadn't even flinched when his smooth hands ran along her bare skin. No matter how many nights she had dreamt of him to touch her, that had not been the right time. But when was the right time? She had loved him for as long as she could remember, and even admitted it to him more than once in their seventh year. And he had even said those three words on more than one occasion, and he had truly meant them.

They had even fallen asleep together many times in front of the fire in the Common Room, different people having woken them on consecutive mornings. Then what was so different about this?

Because I haven't seen him for three years.

Yes, that was the reason. It felt strange yet familiar to be in his arms, beside his body, listening to his heart beat. She had been so long without his warm embrace that she had forgotten what it felt like to be held that securely. And it felt ... good.

Even if she was still angry with him and would be for a while, she had to admit that it was good to have him back. It made everything seem better. Made her life seem more than a boring monotone. It made it seem livable and exciting. Back in Hogwarts, having Harry around had always livened a situation up, always put interest and detail into a normally boring scene. Even if he had been in a foul mood, not talking to anyone other than the demons in his head, his presence made things colorful and adventurous. He had been the best part of every day.

Suddenly, Harry's arms tightened around her shoulders, pulling her closer to his body. Hermione gasped as he continued pulling tighter, low moans escaping his lips.

“Harry, it's only a dream. Please, it's me. It's Hermione.” She soothed, breaking one of her arms out of his tight grip and reaching up to his face. She brushed away his sweaty fringe, running her palm along his forehead and cheeks. He immediately relaxed, his mind being released of whatever terror had hold of it. She smiled, still trailing her fingers along his smooth skin, smoothing out the premature lines of worry and stress spoiling his handsome face.

She sat staring at the back of his eyelids, her hand resting against his chin. She placed her head on his chest, closing her eyes to listen to his heart beat. It let her know that he was truly there, that Harry was actually back.

Something started tickling her ear; she screwed her eyes together, wishing it would stop. It didn't, so she opened her eyes. Harry was looking at her, with his bright emerald eyes dancing in joy. She smiled.

“Hi.” She murmured, sitting up as she felt her face flush. He smiled broadly, taking his hand away from her face to sit it awkwardly on his vacated lap.

“Hi, how are you this morning? You don't have a cold?” he asked worriedly, feeling her forehead with the back of his hand. She giggled.

“I'm fine, thanks to you.” She said carefully, remember what Harry had to do to keep her from getting sick. The same thought seemed to cross through his mind as well, as his cheeks burned red.

“It was - ahh - nothing, really.” He stammered, scratching his head with a nervous laugh.

“Well, thank you anyway.” Hermione became aware how close their bodies were and reluctantly shifted slightly over. Harry's eyes betrayed how he felt abut her movement, as he looked down sadly.

“Do you want some breakfast?” he asked, lifting the blanket off his legs and standing with a yawn.

“S-sure,” she stammered making ready to move.

“No, stay there and I'll bring some in for you. What do you want?” Harry said, pushing her softly back into the couch and tucking the blanket around her. Hermione sat speechless, touched by his thoughtfulness.

“Err...anything.” she said after a while, still startled at the change in her best friend. Harry smiled and disappeared into the kitchen, humming a strange tune.

“Bacon, eggs and toast okay?” he called out from the other room.

“Sure!” she said back, snuggling back down under the blankets. Crookshanks sprang from one of the other armchairs and pounced up into Hermione's lap. She cuddled him close to her chest, unable to stop the smile from spreading across her lips. Harry brought her in a cup of tea just how she liked it with one spoonful of honey. She murmured her thanks and watched him retreat to the kitchen, shaking her head with a chuckle. The Harry she used to know was a kind boy, but she would never have thought it possible for him to be so much like a gentlemen.

She was lost in her thoughts when Harry brought in a steaming plate of delicious smelling food, placing it in her hands. “Mmm, when did you learn to cook so well?” she said.

“Well, I had fourteen years practice with the Dursley's before they decided not to trust me touching their food.” Harry answered lightly, as Hermione's face grew appalled.

“Oh, Harry! I'm so sorry!” she said as Harry shushed her.

“There's nothing to apologize for. Now, eat up before it gets cold.” He said, turning to his own plate of food sitting on his lap. Hermione nodded, still feeling bad for bringing up Harry's deceased relatives. They ate in silence, while Crookshanks purred loudly from Hermione's side, looking at them both with his lamp-like eyes.

Once breakfast was finished and Harry had cleaned the dishes with a flick of his wand, Hermione decided to go take a shower and get dressed, as she was feeling quite dirty.

The water running down her body felt wonderful, and she stood beneath the hot, steaming water for a long time. When she got out once washing her hair, she felt incredibly revitalized as she dressed into a clean pair of jeans and a turtleneck sweater. She pulled her hair up into a messy bun, deciding to let it dry naturally, as whenever she dried it with her wand, it went fizzy.

She inspected her face with the mirror in the bathroom, startled at what she saw. Over the years, her face had become thin and tired, bags and lines always running beneath her eyes and around her mouth. She looked much older than she truly was, as many people told her. But now, the lines disappeared. And her face looked healthier and younger. Her eyes sparkled with youth and joy, the brown brighter than it had been for years.

It was Harry. He always brought out the best in her. And now, with him back, she was finally retaining some of her health and natural beauty. With these thoughts in mind, Hermione almost skipped from the room, humming the same tune Harry had been earlier. She realized that it was `Weasley is Our King', the song created in their fifth year for Ron...

Her thoughts stopped as she entered the Living Room.

Harry was sitting on the couch, staring blankly at a rectangular object in his hands. Hermione walked slowly forward, drawing Harry's attention.

“Harry?” she said curiously, her heart thumping beneath her ribs. He didn't smile, but wore a strange look on his face and in his eyes. He looked back down at the object and shifted it so Hermione could see the top of it. Her face fell.

It was `Behind the Eyes of the Hero', her book.

“Hermione, we need to talk.”

Oh, dear.

.........----------..........---------..........

Disclaimer - I do not own Harry Potter and never will.

Hey.

This chapter was out sooner, though I'm not sure if I like it. It was meant to be longer, to contain the part about Behind the Eyes of the Hero but I decided to keep that for the next chapter.

There will be only another one or two chapters before the end. Then I will start immediately on the sequel, which I don't know what I will call. Suggestions are appreciated.

Thanks to everyone who has reviewed, it means so much. Your words are what keep me writing so quickly, because I know there are so many waiting for more. I can't believe how many reviews this has gotten. It's so exciting.

Please review and suggest a title for the sequel, which will have Harry's reunion with the Weasleys.

Later Days... probably next Friday.

DW

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8. Behind the Eyes of the Hero

Hey. I had to change the rating of this story up a bit for the context in this chapter. Nothing is detailed but it is intended and some might find it slightly, err, inappropriate and offensive. Sorry if this is the case.

-----...-----...-----

Chapter Eight-

Behind the Eyes of the Hero

-----...-----...-----

Hermione felt her stomach drop to her feet and her face drain of colour. The look on Harry's face was one of disappointment, which she just couldn't handle. It made her feel ill and guilty, uncomfortable and unworthy, small and inadequate. She hated that look.

“A-about what?' she stammered, even though they both knew what the talk was going to be about. Harry sighed and sat down, fingering the spine of the thick book sitting in his lap.

“I think you already know.” He said with a tired voice. “Sit down.” Hermione wanted nothing more than to flee, but her feet moved forward on their own accord, until she was standing a few feet in front of Harry. He patted the cushion beside him on the couch, his head still bowed, and his eyes still hidden. With a hurting, pounding heart, Hermione sat down. She looked at her shaking hands before stuffing them under her legs, not wanting her fear to be seen.

There was an uncomfortable, tense silence, in which Hermione was sure her heart could be heard trying to break free from beneath her ribcage. When she couldn't take the quiet no more, she spoke.

“Harry, I tried to contact you, I truly did!” she said desperately, as Harry finally looked up.

“I know. I know you wouldn't have written this without trying to ask me first. You're not like that.” He said softly, looking back down and flipping open the book. The pages were full of black writing, describing everything in detail, the chapters many pages long. Hermione couldn't help writing everything down about their life in Hogwarts. Each adventure was described in full, hardly nothing left out, not even her thoughts and feelings. She wanted everyone to know what it felt like being best friends with the Boy-Who-Lived, and what it was actually like being Harry Potter.

“Then why are you so - so disappointed?” she said in a soft voice, her eyes pleading for an answer. Harry looked up from the book, his emerald eyes shining in sorrow and...confusion?

“Why did you write it? Why would you give everyone our memories? I thought they were ours?” he said painfully. It hurt Hermione's heart just seeing that injured look in his eyes. It made her want to scream, instead, a tear rolled down her cheek.

“They are ours!” she said.

“In a way, yes. But now, everyone can just buy a copy of your book and read about what we shared together. In school, Voldemort and Dumbledore were always around, war this and war that. Everyone knew about that. But what we had together - me, you and Ron - was special. It was a way for me to forget about everything - fighting, school, death... It let me escape, and the thought that no one would ever take it or have what we had, kept me going. I loved the way that we had something together that could never be copied. It was ours.

“I first heard about your book when I returned to Scotland. I went to a bookshop to get you something as a sort of sorry present, but then I seen your book. It hurt, Hermione. It really did. Knowing you could just sell our memories away; write them down so everyone knew about them. It just hurt, and still does.” Harry said tersely, squeezing the book tightly in his hands.

“I didn't just `sell them away'.” Hermione said angrily. “I thought it would be better that the world knew how much you went through to save them. That you suffered more than everyone just to keep them safe. I thought you would be happy.” Hermione didn't think Harry had a right to be angry; he was the one that had left for three years, not her.

“I am happy, it's just... I'm confused.” Harry looked up and sighed. “People have always pitied me, always felt sorry for me. But that was only for the fact that I had no parents. But now - now everyone knows about how terrible my childhood was. They all know about what happened to me over the summer and during school - the minor details. I can't even think of what they will do now... They were overwhelming before - now. I hate to think about it.”

Hermione furrowed her brow. “The only reason you're talking to me now is because of you? You don't want to be pitied. You don't want people to feel sorry for you. You're getting angry at me because I had the decency to tell everyone about what their hero went through?”

“Yes!” Harry said loudly. “I didn't want them to know everything about me! I hated being famous before, now I despise it! All I wanted was to be normal!”

“So, what you're saying is you actually feel sorry for yourself?” Hermione spat, her anger rising as quickly as the colour in her cheeks.

“No!” he said, running a hand quickly through his hair.

“Then what?” she said hastily, not caring that she was over-reacting.

“I - don't - know!” he said with a desperate groan. “I left to escape, hoping everything would die down. Now that I'm back, I discover that nothing has died down; it's intensified! And it's because of your book!”

So that was what it all came down to. Harry was angry because he was once more the `poor little boy'. He was angry because Hermione's book gave the world the true story behind the lies of the Ministry and Daily Prophet. He hated the fact that everyone pitied him because of something he had no control over. He hated the fact that he was angry, and he was angry because he hated. Harry's life was seriously messed up.

“So what do you want me to do? Do you want me to go to every home in Britain, Scotland and America to take back all the copies of my book? Go to the printers and stop the rest of my books being printed? Because I can't! If you don't like it, it's not my fault - it's yours! I only wrote the book for you! I wanted to make everyone who has ever called you arrogant, selfish and an attention seeking little boy, to see what you went through to keep them alive! I wanted them to know how much you suffered to keep them safe at night! I wanted the whole world to know how brave, selfless and caring you are! I wanted them to see the real you, not some advertising device the Prophet made up!” Hermione sighed, pushing down a sob. “I wanted them to know how much I love you.”

That was it. It was out. Her words hung in the air like a heavy scent, drifting just above their heads, before settling into their ears. She put her pride on the line. They both had always known they loved each other, but Hermione had never voiced her feelings before. But now it was all out. She had said it. Now it was up to Harry to make a reply. He was either going to still be angry with her for writing the book, simmer down to be only slightly sad and irritated , or…

…kiss her…

…and that's what he did.

Hermione froze, feeling the soft skin of his lips against hers. At first, she didn`t respond, too startled and excited that Harry had kissed her, but slowly, surely, she returned it.

It was everything she had imagined it to be. Soft, tender and perfect. His hand was resting at the back of her head, applying slight pressure to intensify their connection. Hermione found her arms wrapping around his neck, her body leaning back as Harry moved closer. Slowly, the kiss deepened.

It was passionate and strong, a kiss between lovers who shared a profound mental, spiritual and physical connection - or a kiss between ten year best friends. Hermione lost herself in the sweet taste of his mouth: a cross between tea and chocolate.

He must have been eating chocolate frogs… Hermione thought with a throaty chuckle. She felt Harry smile against her face and her eyes flickered open. Harry's opened at the exact same instant. Brown met green, cinnamon against emerald. They stared at each other while their kiss continued. After a moment, Hermione let darkness block out his bright face, letting her thoughts return to the action their lips were achieving.

The couch sagged beneath their combined weight, Harry lying atop her. She could hear both their heartbeats through their touching bodies, and the heat wavered from her skin. Harry's hands wove through her hand until only one remained. The other was making its steady way across her shoulders, her arm, moving to her waist.

The hair lifted all across her body and she shivered despite the warmth emanating from Harry's sweaty skin. His hands fumbled with the edge of her sweater, before she felt his rough fingers brush the skin of her stomach. She trembled but shifted so his weight wasn't so heavy.

All thought of the last few days left her mind, leaving her blissfully blank and only aware of the mouth she was kissing. Harry's back and is snogging me! The corners of her open mouth tilted in a joyous grin. Excitement raced through her body, from her fingertips to the end of her toes. Harry's hands climbed further under her shirt, fingering the lacy bottom of her bra. She shivered in exhilaration.

Harry was touching her, as no other had. Of course she had been involved with others, but only one had went this far. In that case, they had both been intoxicated from a night of celebration, and it had happened the year before. When Hermione had woken up in the morning, with her head pounding and a man beside her on the bed, she could have died.

She had immediately ended the arrangement, saying it had been a mistake, but that man had always acted more friendly towards her; this made Hermione's stomach clench painfully and uncomfortably.

Her working relationship with Daniel Moore had never been the same again.

“What are you thinking of?” Harry's voice whispered in her ear, his hand resting quite perfectly against her chest. She felt her face flush.

“Just how good this feels,” she said with a smile as Harry met her lips with his once more. The couch sunk a little deeper as they both moved into more comfortable positions, Harry bringing his legs on either side of hers, their hips touching. Hermione thought this was the perfect way to spend each night, lying in Harry's arms, enjoying the way their bodies seemed to have been made to connect together.

If I had known this is what I would have been doing tonight, last week, I would've thought myself crazy. Hermione thought with a silent laugh. Completely off my rocker.

Suddenly, her hands were on the bare flesh of Harry's back, his skin smooth and slightly wet from perspiration. She could practically hear the blood coursing through her body, pumping into her head, drowning out all other sound except their quick heartbeats. Her fingers gripped his skin as his hands went around her back, fumbling beneath their combined weights.

Harry moved his leg and something poked her in the hip. “Harry,” she mumbled, “your wands poking me.” A crooked grin spread across his face.

“That's not my wand.” He said as Hermione's face flushed.

-----...-----...-----

Disclaimer - I do not own Harry Potter and never will.

Hey. Sorry this chapter is so late in coming out, I had it planned for Friday but stuff happened…err, and the first days of year eleven are so stupid. I hate school.

And this chapter is so short; I hope the contents make up for it though. I hadn't planned to move Harry and Hermione's relationship on so quickly, and dramatically, but it sort of felt right to stop it there and have that much in it. I changed the rating just in case, even though not much is explained, only intended … I decided to let your imaginations take over. Anyway, I'm no good at explaining…that aspect of life.

I'm sorry if anything was offensive or too much, just skip over it or tell me and I'll send you an edited copy or something. Also, there were no hidden meanings in what happened in this chapter…like Hermione is NOT going to fall pregnant… sorry if some of you were looking forward on it.

Okay, I think I've rambled on enough. I will try my hardest to update Friday, Saturday at latest. Again, I apologise for the late update.

Please review and thanks to those that have so far!

And for that person who asked me on Portkey if I had any other stories on Fanfiction… yes I do. I have many!

Later Days…

DW

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9. The Morning After

...—---...-----...

Chapter Nine -

The Morning After

...-----...-----...

.

.

.

.

He let a smile come to his face.

She was still asleep. The gentle rise and fall of her chest lifted the blankets draped across her naked body, the hair he loved so much spilled about the pillow in soft, frizzy locks. Her face was smooth, unblemished and peaceful. Just the way he liked it. Her face was free of lines of worry and stress, depicting the young, gentle beauty it had always contained. A smile was curling her full lips, a faint dimple imprinted in both cheeks.

She was just as beautiful as he remembered her to be.

Harry sat at the window, faint sunlight streaming through the thin curtains, to give enough light to illuminate the otherwise dark room. He was wearing a thin pair of shorts, the morning air quite warm for that time of year. The snow had started to finally melt, the month sinking into a new season as fast as the weather changed each day. Since he had returned, it had snowed, rained, almost hailed…and now - now the sun was shining brightly in a clear blue sky.

Strange.

As Harry watched Hermione's eyelids flicker with the telltale signs of a dream, he pondered on the night they had shared together. It had been incredible. It had been everything he had imagined it to be and more. Hermione was magnificent. The feelings and thoughts she invoked inside his mind and body was mesmerising. He had nerves tingling where he thought there couldn't be any, and muscles aching in places he didn't think imaginable.

And when they had finally finished their magical night of lovemaking, Harry was left wanting - no needing - more. Hermione was brilliant, breathtaking … and she was lying in front of him; covered with nothing but a sheet.

Life couldn't get much better than this.

...-----...-----...

Harry was standing in front of her, wearing nothing but a gorgeous smile. She found her eyes trailing along his sweaty body; his chest and stomach were toned with tight muscles from years of Quidditch; his dark hair strewn across his forehead, falling to just above his eyes … emerald eyes.

They sparkled in joy, happiness and humour, the endless green depths enveloping her - mesmerising her completely. She found her body fluttering with excitement, her heart quickening its pace beneath her ribcage. Heat rose along her skin, followed by tiny beads of sweat. Her breathing grew heavier and quicker. Harry smiled.

“My Hermione,” he said, taking a step forward, his eyes never leaving her own. “You're mine. Always.” He was so close. She could see specks of dark green in his eyes, mixed with faint signs of gold. She nodded, believing him - needing him.

“Yes,” she murmured as his lips parted and moved closer to her mouth, “I'm yours. Forever.”

.

.

.

She awoke with a smile.

Her body ached, and in places was sore, from the exhausting yet enchanting night she had shared with Harry - her Harry. He had been gentle, careful and courteous as always. His hands had been soft as they caressed her skin and ran through her hair.

His body was fantastic: tanned and muscular, smooth, soft and sexy. She had spent most of the night running her fingers along the muscles in his stomach, enjoying the way they pulsed against her touch.

He had made her feel things unimaginable. She could still feel the tingling sensation running through her body, eliciting double heartbeats and muscle spasms. But it felt incredible and she wished it to never stop.

The pillow was soft beneath her head and she didn't want to move from the comfortable position she found herself in. she wondered if Harry was still asleep, so she stretched her hand over to her right, waiting for the touch of his body. It never came.

Moaning, she turned on her side and cracked her eyes open a little; she found the bed empty except for herself. Wondering where Harry had gone, she turned eased back and lifted herself up with her hands.

“Morning, beautiful.” Harry was sitting over at the window, his chest and face lit up in the soft light shining through the curtains. Hermione smiled groggily.

“Hello,” she said, looking down to see if the sheet was still covering her body. For some reason she felt shy, even after the night before when Harry had seen everything. Everything.

“Did you have a nice sleep?” he asked with a smile and a yawn, standing up and walking back over to the bed. He sat down at the edge, sliding over on his stomach until he was lying at her side, his hand going up to her cheek. He tilted her chin, before leaning up and locking her lips in a deep, passionate kiss.

“Ahh - what was the question again?” she said, looking at him through half-closed eyelids. He gave her a lopsided grin.

“What would everyone say? Hermione Granger forgetting a question asked of her?” Harry said with a mock shake of his head. She swatted at him with her hand, unable to stop the smile spreading across her face.

“They'd say I had a very good excuse for doing so.” Hermione said.

“And what would that be?” he asked her with a silly grin.

“I was enchanted by Harry Potter. And everyone knows that's not something that can be broken so easily,” she answered with a laugh as Harry shook his head again before moving so Hermione's head was resting against his shoulder, his arm wrapped around her waist.

“I'm sorry.” He said after a while, a sad tone in his voice. Her brow furrowed.

“What for?” she asked in confusion.

“For leaving. I shouldn't have left you.” He said. Hermione sighed and turned so her body was lying atop his. She placed her hands on either side of his face and kissed him tenderly, feeling his hands come to a rest on her hips.

“I know you're sorry, and I forgive you for leaving.”

“You do?” he said with puzzlement.

”Yes, I do. But I don't forgive you for staying away for so long. That's a cut that won't heal for a while.” Hermione answered, staring into his eyes, before glancing at his forehead where a lightning shaped mark was etched. On impulse, she reached up and traced it.

“And when it does, it will leave a scar.” Harry said with a deep sigh, placing a hand to her head. He played with a strand of her hair, which had created a curtain around both of their faces, casting them in delicate shadow. “And I'm still sorry.”

“And I said I know.” Hermione said with a contented sigh, dropping down so her head was nestled beneath his chin. And there they stayed, in their own timeless world, listening to the waking calls of the birds, and the gentle beat of each others hearts, moving as one

...-----...-----...

“Do you have to go?” Harry whinged from the bed, wrapped up in white sheet with just his head staying uncovered. Hermione sighed but smiled.

“Yes, I do. I won't be long. I just need to have a meeting with my publisher about my book, and I should be home for Lunch,” she said, pulling her hair up into a ponytail. She could hear Harry grumbling from his position on the bed, and she couldn't help but laugh. “It's not as though I'm going to be gone for three years, Harry.”

Harry looked at her with a hurt expression. “I just want you to stay here, with me,” he said with a puppy-dog expression, his emerald eyes wide and pleading. She only grinned and shook her head.

“That's not going to work on me, Mr Potter. You can't control me with your charms!” Hermione said in a singsong voice, as Harry sighed.

“I was hoping it would.” He fell back on the bed with a heavy thud. “How long will you be?”

“Only an hour - hour and a half at most. I promise I'll be back for Lunch. Just don't you leave on me!” she said, straightening her thin sweater and sweeping a few stray hairs from the shoulders.

“Promise?” Harry said in a small voice, as if he was a small boy not a twenty-year-old man.

“I promise,” she said, walking over to the bed to say goodbye. She wasn't expecting him to jump up and pull her down with him onto the bed. His lips connected with hers, and they kissed passionately for a few minutes before Hermione pulled away. Now she didn't want to go - and Harry knew it. That was his plan all along, the sneaky little bugger, she thought with a grin.

“I really have to go,” she said, walking to the door. She looked back to see Harry staring at her with a small smile.

“I know, and I'll be here when you get back,” he said. Hermione knew he was being truthful, so it was with a happy heart that she left number Two Rosebud Lane. The sun was in the sky, shining down on the waking town to melt the remaining frost and snow. Even though it was sunny, a cool wind whipped through the streets, confining the occupants to long pants and sweaters.

Hermione wasn't looking forward to meeting Daniel Moore that morning. He would ask where she had been yesterday, and he would know something happened. He always did.

That was one of the reasons she had liked him so much; they shared interests and were both in the same business. They became immediate friends, talking on a regular basis, and not just about her book. They chatted about many things - books, politics, the world and life in general. He was someone she could talk to in her new life, without being reminded of those in her past.

It had been the night her book had been published.

Daniel had thrown a congratulations party for her in the local pub; he had invited many people from town, some she knew and others she didn't. It had started as a great night. It was a way for her to forget everything and just enjoy being young. She had been toasted by many, and that meant more and more drinks.

One led to two - two to three - and so on. It was many hours later and after a large amount of alcohol that Daniel offered to walk her home. At the time, it had been a good idea - she had been so intoxicated that she could have ended up in next town and in another house, thinking it was her own.

And Hermione, being the nice person she was, had invited him in. That was her mistake.

Hermione had always prided being the intelligent one. The one with all the answers. The one who always got her questions correct and always made the right decision.

Well, on that night, she made one incredibly wrong decision.

Daniel had been her friend, that's all. But they had crossed the line between work partners to something more - a line never to be crossed. Afterwards, Hermione felt dirty and utterly miserable. She had disgraced Harry and gotten with someone else. Even though he had left her, and was probably off with another woman, she had promised herself that Harry would be the first one to make love to her.

And she hadn't made love to Daniel Moore - it had been a night fuelled by drunken thoughts and unsteady hands. It had been a mistake. One she would have to live with until she died.

And now she would have to face him after actually making love to Harry - her Harry. Would she be able to pretend nothing happened? That everything was as it had been a week ago?

She couldn't and wouldn't forget what happened between her and Harry. It was something that shouldn't be forgotten - something that was truly right. Something that would never; could never, be a mistake.

A creaking sound met her ears and she looked up to see a sign hanging before a café, swinging in the wind. In there, she would meet Daniel. They would talk about her book; about how many copies were being sold; how much more she had earned. And all the while, she would be thinking about the man at her home - in her bed.

She quickened her pace, wanting to get it over and done with so she could return to Harry just as she had promised. The smell of coffee and freshly baked cakes met her senses. She scanned the room, her eyes landing on a table near the front window. She sighed and walked towards it - and Daniel Moore.

“Hermione!” he said, standing up and hugging her, planting a soft kiss on her cheek. Hermione tensed, but forced a smile onto her face.

“Hello, Daniel,” she greeted, slipping down into a chair. He did the same on the opposite side of the table, placing a briefcase down onto the polished, wooden surface. He smiled broadly at her; she returned it vaguely. He sat oblivious.

“I missed you yesterday; what happened?” Ah, she knew he was going to ask that.

“I decided to spend a day in; out of the cold.” It wasn't a complete lie, just a twisted version of the truth. He watched her for a second before nodding.

“I thought so,” he said with a smile, clipping open his case to pull out a few sheets of paper. “It seems your book is still the number one best seller in bookshops across Britain and Scotland. Even more copies are being ordered and everyone wants an interview with you. I had the Prophet on the Floo again yesterday, wanting to know whether or not you're still doing that interview tomorrow. Are you?”

Hermione had completely forgotten about her meeting with the Daily Prophet, what with Harry's reappearance and all. She hadn't really thought about it.

“I suppose. What time again?” she asked with a frown.

“They moved it down to eleven in the morning. Is that OK?” Daniel asked, looking up from the stack of papers.

“Yes, that's fine.” Hermione answered, before accepting a cup of coffee a waitress had offered to her. “Where is it?”

“They wanted to know if they could do it at your place. You know - the source of the magic.” Daniel said with a grin and a shake of his head. Hermione froze. The Prophet couldn't possibly go to her home - Harry was there.

“I don't think that's such a good idea,” she said with a shake of her head. Daniel's brow knitted with confusion.

“Why not? It would promote more publicity and get the Prophet on more friendly terms,” he said while Hermione continued to shake her head.

“Because it wouldn't be a good idea to let them come to my house. It isn't a good time,” she said.

“But why?” he asked again. She sighed.

“Because I said so.” She knew she was being childish, but she knew Harry wouldn't appreciate it if the Daily Prophet appeared tomorrow morning with cameras and reporters. He would freak out…again.

“That's still not a reason as to why the interview can't be conducted at your house,” Daniel said with a frown, “tell me the real reason.”

“No.” Hermione said. “It's private.”

“Fine, I won't press you. I understand your need for privacy. Let's make it in here then. Oh, and on Wednesday next week, the Weekly Clover wants an exclusive. Can you do it?” he asked, as if he really didn't care what the real reason was. But, she knew he desperately wanted to know.

“Yes. Is that all?” Hermione asked, wanting desperately to return to Harry's arms. To run her fingers through his hair, to feel his hands on her skin, to kiss him -

Suddenly, she realised something was dreadfully wrong. Daniel Moore was kissing her and she had kissed him back, thinking him Harry. But he wasn't and she pushed him hastily away.

“What are you doing!” she screeched, standing up. But Daniel wasn't looking at her, as she expected him doing; he was staring amazed and startled at something outside. She turned her head and almost died.

Harry was standing on the sidewalk, staring straight at her.

And he had seen everything.

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Disclaimer - I do not own Harry Potter and never will.

Hey.

Yes, it's late again. But at least I updated in under a week! I hope you like this, and hated the cliffhanger! LOL. The next chapter is the last one. Then I will wait a week before posting the sequel.

Please review and all that and thanks to those who have so far.

Also, thanks to Yan'weh for Beta-ing!

Later days…

DW

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10. That Thing Called Love

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Chapter Ten-

That Thing Called Love

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“Harry, wait!” Hermione cried, stumbling from the café door, tears streaming down her cheeks. A cold wind whipped across her exposed skin, catching her cloak and twisting it about her legs. She frantically looked up and down the street, searching for the man she loved above all else. Then she saw him, at the end of the street, turning into the next.

She took off after him, her cloak and hair trailing behind her, caught in the wind. People stared as she passed them, but she didn't care. She had to catch Harry and tell him that the kiss meant nothing. That there was nothing between Daniel and her, and there never would be. She had to tell him that she loved him.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, she reached the corner. Her lungs were stinging from the harsh, cold air that she struggled to gasp in. Her heart was beating frantically, painfully, in her chest, wanting release; wanting Harry.

“Where is he?” she whispered with a distressed voice, ignoring everything else except her desperate need to find him. Harry. Oh, how she wished she could take back the last few minutes. She wished she had never left him that morning. She should have stayed in bed with him, enjoying the warmth that radiated from his entire being. She should have stayed, as he had wanted her to.

But now…. Now he was gone. Gone because of a stupid kiss that meant nothing. It meant nothing, when Harry meant the world to her. He was her pillar of strength, her comforting pillow. Her hero.

And as the cold wind whistled up the damp road, and clouds began rolling in from the south, he was gone. She had been alone for three years, and now she was alone again. And all because of something that was so small, so insignificant compared to her feelings for Harry.

She wished she could see him if only to say she was sorry. She had to tell him - make him know - that the kiss was nothing. It had been a complete mistake and that Daniel meant nothing to her. She wanted to tell him that she loved him. She needed to tell him.

She looked down the street to find it bare and cold, with trees arching under the force of the wind, and leaves rattling along the footpaths. Harry wasn't there. And now she was alone.

“Harry,” she sobbed, closing her eyes against the wind. The tears left warm, shining tracks upon her cheeks, before they too disappeared. She hoped that when she opened her eyes, they would see the startling emerald of his eyes.

No such luck.

All she saw was the deserted length of Rosebud Lane. She didn't see the tall, strong form of Harry Potter, strolling towards her, wearing that silly, lopsided grin. He was gone.

“I'm sorry,” she sobbed, sliding back down against the wooden fence surrounding the local school. The ground was wet, and her pants were immediately soaked. She didn't care. Her hands went to her face, shaking and cold. They felt like ice as they covered her face.

And she cried.

She cried with all her heart. She cried for every hurt, every pain that had touched her. She cried until her eyes were sore, red and puffy. She cried until there were no tears left to fall.

And she was still alone.

Heart wrenching sobs escaped her mouth, and she dissolved into the pain of a broken soul.

Harry …

I'm so sorry!

Harry …

Please forgive me!

Harry …

“I l-love y-you…” her words, so soft and broken, were carried on the wind, until they too, were gone.

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It was cold and the dark clouds above threatened rain. The road was bare except for the whispering wind, speaking in own ancient language as it slid across his skin. Branches rustled in the trees, their tops bent under the force of the gusts. Leaves scattered up and down the hard, merciless ground, crunching beneath his feet as he kept walking.

Hermione …

How could you do that? After everything we have - had - how could you kiss another man? How could you throw everything away?

A painful growl escaped his lips as he kicked at an empty drink can, and spun around, to walk back the other way.

Hermione …

You said there was no one else. You said that you loved me, that I was yours … forever.

“Who was he?” Harry mumbled under his breath, unconcealed anger laced in every word. He turned again, retracing his previous steps.

Hermione …

I loved you - I still do! Then why did you do this to me?

Harry had thought Hermione was the only one he could rely on. That she was the only one that would be there for him, through thick and thin. She had always been the one to help him, no matter what.

He had trusted her, relied on her to always be there for him.

He had been stupid.

How could he just presume that Hermione would always wait for him? After all that he did to her. He left her for-Merlin's-sake! He left her alone right after Hogwarts ended; she was lost and confused - and without him. He had just left her when she needed him most - for three whole years!

And now he had come back, expecting to find the old, reliable Hermione, waiting for him. He didn't even think that she had made another life for herself. He hadn't even thought of the possibility that she was happy without him.

But was she happy?

She hadn't seemed it when he had returned, less than a week ago. She had been a wreck, but with good reason. And hadn't she collapsed when faced with the possibility of him being back for good? She had collapsed, with either overwhelming joy - or grief. Whatever the reason, Harry had been careless and selfish to just come back wanting her to love him as she used to do.

He had been so wrong.

With a frustrated growl, he spun around, dead leaves crunching beneath his feet. He had to find her.

Hermione …

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Silence reigned but the tears still fell. She was all out of sobs to voice, and her throat was sore from the constant cries. So she jut sat in the cold, as the first drops of rain started to fall, lost in thoughts of heartache and pain and endless regret.

She sat huddled against the damp, wooden fence, her body covered in goose bumps from the icy wind. She didn't care that she could catch pneumonia or a terrible cold. Or that she could die from a shattered heart.

She didn't care anymore.

Three years without Harry to help her, and tell her that everything was all right - and it hadn't even been half an hour with him gone and she was ready to give up.

That was how much she depended on him.

That was how much she loved him.

And now he was gone …

“Hermione?”

The voice was so soft she could have mistaken it for the whispering wind. But, she would know that voice anywhere at anytime. And through her damp eyelashes and over her tear-streaked cheeks, she looked up into the face of Harry Potter. Her Harry.

The silence was tense and uncomfortable. Nothing moved except the falling rain and the wind touching their wet clothes. They just stared into one another's eyes, looking deep into the pain, love … and regret?

Unable to keep hold of the strong emotion inside, Hermione started sobbing. Tears coursed down her cheeks, mingling with the rain as she kept stuttering out, “I'm s-sorry!”

The world was spinning, giving her flashes of broken images, fading sounds and the colour green. All she could hear was her beating heart and loud sobs. And all she could feel was the biting cold, tearing into her flesh as a harsh reminder of her dire mistakes.

“Hermione,” the voice was closer, louder, and even more familiar. It was touched with concern and even desperation. She wondered why it sounded so sad.

Why is he so sad? He should be angry, and far away from this town - from me. Why is he still here?

“I-I'm so-sorry!” she said tearfully, pulling her knees up under her chin, and burying her face against the wet material of her jeans. She could hear the raindrops hitting the pavement, and feel the wetness soak through her entire body. “I'm sorry,” she whispered into her arms. “I'm so s-sorry.”

There was no answer except that of the splattering rain. He was gone … she knew it. He had finally left her, as he had done three years ago, for good. He wasn't coming back. He was gone …

Something touched the back of her head. She flinched away. She heard shuffling beside her then the telltale signs of someone sitting down. She could feel the soft warmth of another body beside her own and she shivered. An arm was draped around her shoulders and she heard a deep sigh through the splattering rain.

Harry pulled her closer. “I'm sorry.”

The words shook her very being. Her head snapped up and eyes went to those of Harry's. Emerald. They were filled with sorrow and pain. Endless pain. Nameless pain. Pain only he could carry and comprehend.

“W-what?” she stammered, her lips shaking from both the cold and the tears. He looked down and she noticed his shoulders drooping.

“For everything. I left you, then came back and expected you to just, I don't know … welcome me back with open arms. I didn't even consider the fact that you might have had so-somebody here … instead of me.” He said it with such loss and regret, that Hermione wanted to grab him and shake some sense into him. He looked up at her and she saw that his eyes were shining with unshed tears.

The idea was so ridiculous that it was almost offending. She gaped at him, eyes wide, and disbelief playing on every feature of her face. He stared at her with confusion.

“What are you t-talking about?” she said after a while, her voice cracking slightly. Harry shifted and flicked a leaf from his arm, before looking at her with eyes wide in puzzlement.

“Before, I came to take you out for lunch, and I saw you ki-kissing a man in that café!” He said in a loud voice. Hermione winced but stood her ground.

“That was Daniel Moore, my publicist. And if you had looked a little harder, you would have seen me push him away!” she cried wildly, eyes flashing. Harry gave her a strange look.

“You pushed him away?” he said softly.

“Yes!” Hermione cried loudly. “I thought you saw that!”

“No. When I spotted you kissing him, I sort of looked away for a second, and then when I looked back, you both were staring at me. Then I fled.” Harry seemed to be embarrassed, because after each word his face grew steadily redder. There was a thick silence. “You really pushed him away?”

Hermione sighed and let out a weird chuckle, as tears kept running down her face. “Yes.”

Harry looked at her before sighing. “I am such a prat!” he said loudly, flinging his head back to hit it against the fence. Hermione was still confused as to what was happening. Was everything okay now? Was Harry going to stay?

“Hermione, will you forgive me?” Harry asked her, looking down into her eyes. She rocked back, in shock.

“Me? Forgive you?” she stammered. “Whatever for?”

”For being a complete arse! For leaving you and presuming that, you would wait for me. No matter what.”

”But I did wait for you remember? A whole three years of waiting. And I should be apologizing to you… I shouldn't have let Daniel kiss me, I should have been more prepared, and I should have -” she couldn't speak any more as her lips were otherwise occupied. Harry was kissing her. Deeply, passionately … perfectly.

The rain continued to fall, as did her tears. But they were not of regret - they were tears of happiness. Not long after, they pulled apart, dripping wet and painfully cold.

They didn't care. They looked at each other, staring into the others eyes. “I'm sorry.” They said it together. Hermione smiled and looked down, fiddling with the hem of Harry's sweater. When she looked up, she looked up into the beautiful face of Harry Potter, his eyes no longer haunted with shattered memories, but shining with pure joy.

Hermione felt her insides swell and heart skip a few beats. Harry was looking at her with that look - full of love and joy. And it made her want to scream with pride, knowing that she was the cause of his happiness. And the cause of that love.

Harry had grown up without care and affection. He had been placed in a loveless home, where he grew up thinking he would always be alone and unwanted. Even through Hogwarts, he was lost and couldn't find a place to fit in. He was always searching for some distant place and unknown feeling. Something had been missing inside him; a gaping hole, threatening to swallow him completely.

He tried to fill it with friends, Quidditch and even schoolwork. He kept looking for something he had no recollection of, no experience with. He was searching for some nameless feeling, an indescribable place where he would be accepted and welcomed without question.

He searched but could never find that one feeling and that one place where he could just be himself. He wanted to be loved, and wanted to find a place he could call home. But no matter how hard he looked, he never found it.

Hermione reached up and placed a hand on his chin. He looked down at her in mild confusion. She smiled and kissed him lightly on the lips. “I love you.”

Harry's face lit up immediately and the shadow in his eyes disappeared. “I love you too.”

They started to walk back to number Two Rosebud Lane, hand in hand, with Hermione resting her head on Harry's shoulder. They walked slowly in the rain, watching the drops of water, fall from the sky like tiny diamonds, to shatter on the hard ground into a million crystal pieces.

They turned into the slippery pathway leading to Hermione's front door. Crookshanks was sitting on the front porch, his tail swinging behind him in irritation. Hermione smiled at the ginger feline before pushing open the door, sighing when a great wave of warmth washed over them.

They hurried inside, laughing as Crookshanks shot passed them into the Lounge Room and the crackling fire. Hermione quickly stripped out of her soaking sweater, shoes and socks, and with shaking feet, stumbled into the warm Lounge. But, as she passed through the high arch, Harry at her back, she froze.

Across the room, sitting on the back of her armchair, was an owl. But not just any owl. It was Pigwideon - and he had two letters clamped in his small talons.

Harry walked passed her, a blank look on his face. Hermione placed a hand on his arm, to get him to stop. With a worried frown, she started forward, greeting the tiny bird with a soft pat. It hooted delicately, dropping the letters into her hands, before flying over to Harry. Hermione looked down at the white envelopes, gold, loopy writing on each - one for Harry and one for her. It was slightly smudged from the rain, but could still be read.

With shaking hands, Hermione ripped open the top of her own letter, feeling Harry at her back. A sheet of fancy, gold-lined paper fell out into her hands. She unfolded it with care, her curiosity and anxiety rising. When she saw what it was she was holding, she could have fainted.

It was a wedding invitation.

To the wedding of Ron Weasley and Luna Lovegood.

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Disclaimer - I do not own Harry Potter and never will.

So…

This was the last chapter. The last chapter of Behind the Eyes of the Hero. Thanks to everyone who has reviewed and read this story, I can't thank you enough for your kind words.

The sequel to this story will be called: My Brother, My Hero.

The first chapter should be out next week or the week after. Depends on how it wants to be written, lol. I thought that was an all right ending, I've been thinking about it for a while, and decided that was the best way to write it.

I hope you liked this story as much as I enjoyed writing it. Stay tuned for the sequel: My Brother, My Hero.

Thanks again, I love you all!

Yan'weh thanks for Beta-ing.

DW

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