Fateful Moments

Bingblot

Rating: PG
Genres: Angst, Romance
Relationships: Harry & Hermione
Book: Harry & Hermione, Books 1 - 5
Published: 19/11/2004
Last Updated: 19/11/2004
Status: completed

There are moments in people's lives that change everything. Hermione makes a decision and her life changes forever... Sequel/companion fic to 'She's Out of My Life'.

Chapters

1. Fateful Moments

1. Fateful Moments

Disclaimer: All JKR’s and not mine, etc. etc.

Author’s Note: This is the companion fic/sequel to “She’s Out of My Life”, although it’s not necessary to read both. This is for everyone who reviewed “She’s Out of My Life” begging for a happy ending and especially for Anne U.- *glomps*

Fateful Moments

“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to London’s Heathrow airport where the local time is 9:50 a.m.”

Hermione looked out the window at the overcast sky and smiled slightly.

It looked like England was welcoming her back with a dose of typical English weather.

Her smile faded again as thoughts of what had finally driven her to leave—and what had brought her back—again returned to her mind, as it had for much of the flight over.

The memories, the fears, the half-unwilling hopes, the uncertainty…

And as she waited for the plane to begin allowing the passengers out, she found her thoughts drifting back to that one moment when she’d made a choice that had changed her life forever, had brought her to where she was now…

Two years earlier…

“It just wasn’t working. She knew it and I knew it and so we decided to just go back to being friends before things went bad.” Harry turned to look at her, a half-rueful smile touching his lips, referring to Alaina, the girl he’d been currently seeing.

“As long as you’re not hurt,” she managed to say through the lump of emotion in her throat and even though her heart was aching.

He sighed but said lightly, “Yet another relationship down the drain.” He looked at her, his voice and eyes now serious. “Maybe I’m just not meant to meet that right person.”

“Don’t be silly,” she chided gently, trying to sound natural even as part of her mind was banging on the walls of her heart, wanting to shout, “What about me? Can’t you love me?”

Of course she said nothing of the sort, as usual, swallowing back her own feelings, her very unrequited feelings, for her best friend. But as she looked into his green eyes, she could almost hear her heart breaking at what she saw—what she didn’t see—in his eyes.

They were warm with trust and friendship—but nothing more. It was the same feeling he had for Ron, she knew, the affection for them, his best friends for more than ten years now. Oh it had deepened, grown stronger, over the years but essentially, he still saw her the same way he had since they’d been eleven…

But oh how she wished it were different…

She was just his friend, his best friend, but nothing more than that…

And in that moment she couldn’t take it any longer, couldn’t just stand by and watch as he drifted through relationships, telling her about every one…

She needed to move on; she couldn’t keep on tormenting herself like this, loving Harry the way she did but never able to tell him because she feared ruining their friendship…

She’d made her decision then, and acted on it with her usual decisiveness.

She’d left England for Boston in little more than a month after that fateful day. She’d given her desire to see a new country, live in a place where her name wasn’t immediately recognized and followed with inquiries about Harry as her reason for going. Her parents hadn’t been thrilled but they’d accepted her decision. Ron had been adamantly opposed to the idea at first, she knew, although he’d tried to hide it by only teasingly asking her where he was going to get all the answers to any questions he had about Hogwarts’ history from, with her gone. Harry had, characteristically, not said too much, only told her that if that’s what she wanted to do, he supported her decision.

And she’d hugged Harry goodbye with a forced smile, wondering what he would do if she just told him the truth.

There had been just a moment when she’d doubted the wisdom of her decision, even if it was to protect her heart from further hurt- when he’d taken her aside as he, Ron and her parents were seeing her off at the airport, looked deep into her eyes and then kissed her forehead in a brotherly fashion… And for that moment she’d wavered. Could she really leave him? If he had said only one word, Stay, she knew she would have… She’d opened her mouth to just tell him, lay her heart on the line, risking everything… But then he’d said simply, “I’ll miss you,” and the moment was gone. She’d said nothing, taken the safe, easy way out…

And so she’d gone, leaving behind her home, her family, her friends…

She and Ron owled occasionally, but she’d gradually stopped writing to Harry. Letters seemed awkward between them and more and more time passed between owls until they stopped altogether.

With one exception. Every year she still sent Harry a birthday card and some small gift. After so many years, it was habit and something she did as naturally as breathing. And every time it served as a sharp reminder of the boy, the man, she couldn’t forget…

Hermione came back to the present sharply, to realize that the plane was emptying out and she hurriedly grabbed her carry-on and left.

She saw her mother immediately on entering the terminal and hugged her hard before finally drawing back. “Hi, Mum. How’s Dad?”

Her mother looked older and tired as she answered, “Your father’s fine; he’s resting at home.”

Hermione nodded, feeling a pang at the thought of her father, the reason she’d come home to England after two years away.

Her mother had called her three days ago to tell her that her father had had a transient ischemic attack and was in the hospital.

It had taken the next two days to arrange for a replacement for her shifts at St. Basil’s, Boston’s equivalent to St. Mungo’s where she worked as a Healer and arrange for her flight to London. The two days had been too frantically busy and her mind had been too filled with worry for her father to think of anything else. It was only when she’d finally gotten on the plane, assured that her father was doing as well as could be expected and recovering well, that she’d allowed herself to think about going back to England after so long. Think about seeing Harry again…

She didn’t think he was engaged or, worse, married, to anyone. Surely Ron would have told her if anything that big had happened. Ron’s occasional notes were brief and chary on news at best although there were a few offhand references to Harry here and there. (Really, the biggest and only piece of real news Ron had let slip had been his asking Luna out on a date.) But she believed that Ron would have told her if Harry had gotten engaged or married.

It was only when she was on the plane that she allowed herself to fear, to wonder… Even if Harry weren’t engaged or married, he could very well be involved with someone else; given his popularity with the female half of the Wizarding population it would be more surprising if he weren’t… In none of his owls had he ever indicated that he wanted her to come back, that he really missed her.

And yet, some small part of her couldn’t help but hope…

~*~

Hermione took a deep breath and steeled herself, unsure exactly why she was so nervous but nervous nevertheless.

She’d been in England for two days and only now was she going to see Ron.

She hadn’t had time to tell anyone, Ron or Harry or Ginny, that she was coming back to England even if only for a visit. But she was here now, standing outside Ron’s flat, a completely unannounced and unexpected visitor.

She raised her hand and knocked quickly.

The door opened and suddenly she knew why she’d been so nervous. Her worst fear- hope?- had come true.

Harry stood there, staring at her as if she’d suddenly sprouted a second head.

She stared back. She couldn’t have said a word if her life had depended on it. All coherent thoughts had gone straight out of her head and all she knew was that it was Harry. Harry, whom she hadn’t seen in so long… Her eyes moved over his face, his dear, well-known face, taking in the familiar features, the true, bright, deep green of his eyes, the shape of his lips, his messy hair that, no matter how he tried, couldn’t completely hide the scar on his forehead, the jagged slash just to the left of center, that mark of his fame…

She didn’t know how long they would have stood there, staring, if Ron hadn’t come and interrupted.

“Oi, Harry, what’s taking so long? Who wa-” Ron stopped short, cutting his question short, as he caught sight of her. And then he had crossed the space between them in three large steps, picked her up and swung her around in a boyishly enthusiastic gesture of greeting.

She laughed, her momentary trance sharply ended, and hugged him back. “Hi, Ron.”

He put her down to grin at her. “Great Merlin, Hermione, it’s so bloody good to see you! Surprised the hell out of me. When did you get back and why didn’t you owl to let us know you were coming?”

“I would have but I didn’t have time,” she explained, allowing herself to relax. After all, despite her feelings for Harry, he and Ron were still her best friends and she’d missed being with them, missed the friendship and banter. She sobered at the thought of her reason for coming. “I came because of my dad. He- he had something like a stroke and collapsed a week ago.”

Harry spoke for the first time since seeing her, his tone quiet, concerned. “Is he alright?”

She met his eyes, seeing the worry in them, the compassion, for her… “He’s doing better. His doctor says he should fully recover.” If they had been alone, she knew she would have allowed herself to show all the worry she’d felt when she first heard, the worry she still felt, and her sadness at seeing her dad, always so full of life, suddenly so frail… But they weren’t alone and so she only looked and knew that Harry understood, somehow… As he always had… He didn’t return her feelings but he understood, and for a moment, that was enough.

“I’m sorry to hear about your dad, Hermione, but glad he’s doing better,” Ron said soberly.

She stayed in Ron’s flat for hours, owl-ing out for pizza when they got hungry, just talking and laughing, the three of them. The Trio, together, as it had been meant to be, and Hermione felt a wave of relief, so powerful it made her heart hurt a little, that the separation hadn’t changed anything between them. And she thanked the Fates that despite her feelings for Harry, she could somehow still behave normally when she was with the both of them. There was no awkwardness; there was only comfortable familiarity as the friendship slipped back into its old grooves and it was as it had been before she left. The same companionship, the same banter…

Only once did something- she wasn’t sure what- slip in to change the atmosphere that had hitherto been so reassuringly normal and reminiscent of their Hogwarts days. Only once, when Ron broke a short silence that had fallen to ask, “So, how is your boyfriend?”

There was an odd intonation to his tone that made her glance at him curiously as she answered, “My boyfriend? What boyfriend?”

It was Ron’s turn to frown. “You wrote in one of your owls a while back that you’d been on a date and that it went well because of all you had in common. I just assumed…”

Hermione laughed slightly and shook her head. “Oh, you mean Mitchell. No, he’s just a friend. We knew after the first few dates that there just was no real attraction and agreed to just be friends.” Her smile softened as she thought of Mitchell, who had been a comfort in some of the times when she’d been most homesick for England and for her friends here. “He’s just about the best friend I made in Boston, actually. He’s dating someone now, has been for the past few months.”

She didn’t notice, her attention on Ron as he made some noncommittal reply and then changed the subject, the way Harry had stiffened at Ron’s question and her answer. She didn’t notice and when she glanced at Harry again, he’d recovered his calm and could make a teasing response to Ron’s joshing.

It had been several hours before she finally realized she had to leave to return home and said so. They both stood up and she hugged Ron goodnight before turning to Harry. Harry didn’t say “Bye”; what he said was, quietly, “I’ll walk you home.”

“No, you don’t have to do that,” she protested, instinctively trying to protect herself by not being alone with him.

“Oh just let him, Hermione,” Ron spoke up. “You’ve been gone for two years; I’m sure you guys have more catching up to do. I’m going to Floo-call Luna.” He exchanged a look she couldn’t decipher with Harry. “I’ll talk to you later, Harry.”

They walked in silence for a while, after leaving the closest Apparition point to her house, words unnecessary between them.

Until Harry reached out and took her hand in his.

She glanced at him in surprise as her heart began to pound in almost painful hope…

“Are you back for good, then?” he asked.

There was a hint of urgency, of some deeper emotion, in his tone that she’d never heard before but was afraid to hope that it meant what she wanted it to… “No, I’m not. St. Basil’s gave me two weeks off but I need to go back after that.” She tried to speak normally even though her breath was coming quickly. Dared she hope… After all these months…

Harry didn’t say anything and she felt the small part of her that had begun to hope die again. She glanced at him to see that he was staring at the ground rather moodily.

Just when she had begun to wonder if Harry was going to speak at all until they had reached her house, he did, stopping to face her. “No,” he said forcefully. “Don’t go, Hermione, please don’t leave.”

She felt tears well up involuntarily at the sound of those words she’d so hoped to hear before she left, the words she’d convinced herself she never would hear… “Why not?” she asked in barely a whisper. She needed to hear him say the words, needed to know…

Harry hesitated, just looked at her, and the look in his eyes, illuminated by a shaft of moonlight, made her catch her breath as her heart began to beat erratically. There was something in his eyes now, something other than friendship, something she’d never seen before…

Harry studied Hermione as she looked up at him, studied the face he knew so well and yet somehow it seemed as if he was seeing it for the first time… Thought of all the months that she’d been gone… he couldn’t let her go again, not now when she was back by his side… He’d be taking a chance but the alternative was letting her go and that he couldn’t do. He was a Gryffindor, wasn’t he?

His eyes moved over her familiar features, her brown eyes with flecks of amber in them, full of something that looked very like vulnerability, until they paused at her lips, pink and slightly parted. And slowly, very slowly, he bent his head, his eyes closing, until his lips touched hers…

It was amazing the fireworks that went off inside her the moment Harry’s lips touched hers. It was a miracle, a dream come true, and it was right. She sensed that immediately, even as she parted her lips further and slid her arms around his neck, feeling his hands on her back, bringing her body flush against his. And oh, the perfection of it all… the feel of his lips on hers, his body against hers, his hands on her back… It was all perfect…

She had been made for this man and this moment. And after all these years of trying to convince herself that they hadn’t been meant to be together after all, it was the most exquisite delight to be proven wrong.

He only drew back slightly when they finally had to break apart for air, brushing his lips against her forehead, her cheek, her eyes, her nose, with what could only be called tenderness.

She looked up at him, feeling the old, old ache in her heart from loving Harry when he didn’t love her fade and disappear, leaving only joy and hope behind. But she didn’t speak, wasn’t sure what to say.

“Stay here,” Harry finally said softly, his voice husky with emotion. “Stay with me, Hermione, I can’t let you go again. I- I love you.”

For a breathless moment, Hermione was sure she’d imagined it, that she was hearing things, but then she saw the look in his eyes, shining with all the love she’d ever dreamed of seeing in their familiar green depths, and she knew. She blinked back happy tears, feeling a sob well up in her throat. “Say that again,” she managed to say.

“I love you, Hermione. I’ve always loved you; I was just too dense to know it.”

He loved her. He loved her. He loved her… It seemed as if she’d been waiting forever to hear Harry say those words.

She smiled, throwing herself into his arms with a stifled sob. “Oh Harry, I love you too. Do you have any idea how long I’ve been waiting to hear you say that?”

His arms tightened convulsively around her. “I didn’t know. I’m so sorry for hurting you.”

She shook her head against his chest. “No, it’s all right. We’re together now; that’s all that matters.” She thought of the friends she’d made in Boston, Mitchell, her colleagues and her patients at St. Basil’s- the life she’d made for herself. The life she’d be giving up. She thought it without a hint of regret. It didn’t matter; it was only material, the outward trappings to hide the emptiness within. Here, with Harry, was where she belonged, where her life was meant to be.

She lifted her face as he bent his head again. Just before his lips touched hers, she heard him say, “My Hermione.” Just a whisper of a sound, so soft she was sure the words had been without conscious thought. And they warmed her heart as no two words ever had or ever would.

My Hermione...

She was his. And she was home…