Cheers, darlin.

So… I promised an update on Circle of Oblivion, but was hit with major inspiration from a Damien Rice song. If at all possible, you should download or find his song “Cheers, darling” before listening… it sets the mood that you don’t get just from reading the words.

cheers darlin'
here's to you and your lover boy
cheers darlin'
i got years to wait around for you
cheers darlin'
i’ve got your wedding bells in my ear
cheers darlin'
you give me three cigarettes to smoke my tears away
and i die when you mention his name
and i lie i should have kissed you
when we were running in the rain
what am i darlin'?
a whisper in your ear?
a piece of your cake?
what am i darlin?
the boy you can fear?
or your biggest mistake?
cheers darlin'
here's to you and your lover man
cheers darlin'
i’ll just hang around and eat from a can
cheers darlin'
i got a ribbon of green on my guitar
cheers darlin'
i got a beauty queen
to sit not very far from me
i die when he comes around to take you home
i'm too shy I should have kissed you
when we were alone
what am I darlin'?
a whisper in your ear?
a piece of your cake?
what am I darlin?
the boy you can fear?
or your biggest mistake?
what am i?
here’s to you and your lover
what am i darlin’?
i got years to wait around for you…

The darkness swallowed him.

No one glancing in would have noticed the black haired man sitting in the corner booth, head down over his glass of butterbeer. The only light that existed in the ancient pub flickered eerily from torches and candles hung at random, forcing a spectral glow over the walls, hiding those who wished to be hid. The place looked how he felt.

He wanted to disappear into its walls.

A man. Was he? 21. Is that the age of a man? He’d been a man at 17, but now…

He buried his head in his hands and the waitress who had been nearing his table received a stern look from the bartender. Don’t.

The circles under his emerald eyes betrayed him. Sleeplessness, tears, despair… regret. All self-deprecating. The hero had lived harder in 21 years than most wizards did in 120. When people asked if he was happy, he laughed cynically, as if the word was foreign. An elusive impossibility. Like catching smoke in your bare hands…

The door creaked open and a boisterous group burst forth, laughing, slightly damp from running through the rain-soaked streets. A chill ran over him. Something familiar but unattainable woke in his memory.

He rolled his eyes and tried even harder to mold himself to the wooden cage. “University gits…” he murmured.

Archimage University was only two blocks away. He chided himself for not thinking of that before choosing his place to hole up for the evening. The Thestral was cloaked from muggles, but the uni students probably found its battered appearance a novelty – or some other disgusting word that reeked of cheer.

He sighed and then he heard her. It was then he had to gasp for breath.

“Honestly, I should go. I need to study.”

“You don’t need to study, Hermione.” It was another girl. “You know everything already.”

“That’s ridiculous. Nobody knows everything!”

“Jamie’s coming.” The other girl again. That voice… he knew it as well.

He dared himself to turn and look but stopped. It had been so long…

Hermione’s voice brightened, “I suppose one butterbeer would be alright.”

So, so long…

“Harry!” The rain had drenched them now, her hair hanging in her face.

“Hermione, I have to go.”

“No.” Her voice rippled with tears, “I need you. Especially now.”

“I can’t.” He’d turned his back on her then. The second hardest thing he’d ever done. “Please understand.” And he walked away. From her. From Hogwarts. From what he’d done. From what he’d lost and what he was more scared to lose than anything else.

He opened his eyes to lessen the pain and squeezed the bridge of his nose.

He’d always known that if he’d turned to face her four years ago, everything would have been different. He wouldn’t have had the strength to leave. After ridding their world of a fear that had overtaken them, haunted them, during their years at school, all it took was her eyes and his legs buckled under her strength. He’d always thought she knew why he had left. But had she thought he’d come back? Surely she knew he couldn’t do it, not with Ron gone…

“Hello girls!” Two more guys entered. “Hermione, hello.”

“Hi Jamie.”

“Didn’t know you’d be here.” He said lightly.

“Oh… well, I… I need to study, but Lavendar convinced me to have a butterbeer.”

“I’ll have to thank her then.”

He wanted to die. They were together. Or they were about to be. He knew that sound in her voice. What it meant. The word MISTAKE rang in his ears as loudly as if someone where banging a gong beside him. He had to get out.

“Cheers.” He said to himself and took a last swig of butterbeer – laced with Firewhiskey – before pulling up the hood of his jacket. He threw several galleons on the table and stood to go.

But he’d forgotten. To leave, he’d have to see her face.

He had to steady himself against the booth when he saw her. “Bugger.” He cursed. He saw that face every night, was haunted by it in his dreams, but to have her standing 40 feet from him was a bit of crashing reality he hadn’t been prepared for.

He’d imagined this moment. Eventually they were bound to cross paths, right? Would she notice him tonight with that prat’s arm around her shoulder? Maybe not. Maybe he could just leave. Walk past without being noticed. Another escape.

He dug his hands into his pockets and walked. He blocked out everything but the exit. “Focus on the door,” he told himself until he’d made it outside.

He broke through onto the street. She hadn’t seen him. Hadn’t noticed. Isn’t that what he’d wanted? He laughed at himself knowing it wasn’t, and walked on, not caring that it was raining again.

“Harry Potter!” Her voice was trembling.

He’d been rounding the corner and it stopped him dead. In that instant, he was sure even Madame Pomfrey couldn’t have un-petrified him.

“Harry?” It came out with a sob.

The London streets were dark. The alley was like a cave. The rain enclosed them, binding them to one another and to everything that stood around them. He knew this, like the time before, would be etched in his mind forever.

This time, he turned around.

“I didn’t think you’d seen me. I didn’t want to interrupt and I…”

She walked forward and stopped before she was close enough to touch him. That would have been too much. “Don’t worry,” she said bitterly, “I didn’t see you, so you almost escaped again.”

“Then how--”

“Oh, Harry, honestly.” She finally looked straight at him, “I felt you.”

He snickered. He’d felt her too. The moment the door opened. He hadn’t wanted to identify it, but he’d known.

“Right.” He said stupidly.

“God…” she took a step closer, “It’s really you.”

He shrugged. “What’s left of me.”

Her eyes softened and he realized they weren’t as bright as they used to be.

She reached out into the air between them, “Why didn’t you find me?”

He couldn’t tell if it was rain or tears on her face, “I don’t know.”

“That’s all you have to say?” He’d given her a reason and she looked up again, shocked, “Four years, Harry. Didn’t you ever think to just let me know you weren’t dead!” Thunder boomed, stopping her next sentence.

“Yes.” He said in a small voice, as if being scolded by a parent.

“Oh, good. Rather thoughtful aren’t you? Not even an owl. Two words would have done nicely. I’m alive.”

“Hermione, I know you’re angry...”

“You don’t know anything Harry!” She spit it out through gritted teeth.

“I know you have boyfriend in there who probably wants to know where you are.” Return anger with anger.

“Shut up! You’ve no right.”

“Then why did you come after me?” It was a bolder question than he knew.

Lightning crashed in the distance and she looked at him, remembering.

They ran furiously. He didn’t know if he was running from her or himself. It didn’t matter anymore.

“Harry Potter, stop!”

It felt like she’d used a spell to halt him, but he knew better. He’d wanted a reason.

“What?” He panted, rain streaming down his face, “WHAT?”

She stared at him, not angry, tender.

“You can’t just leave without saying goodbye to me. I deserve that much, don’t I?”

His whole body sagged. He couldn’t begin to tell her what she deserved. He walked slowly, as if in a trance, toward her.

“Hermione,” he whispered as the rain beat faster. The words wouldn’t come. He was so close to her now. Everything they’d been through in the seven eternal years of their relationship flashed in front of him. His hand went to her cheek and he felt like he was in a dream as she stood on her toes, gripping his hand, moving toward him, eyes closing. He couldn’t. He’d never stop if he touched her.

“No!” he said aloud, startling her. “NO!” He screamed and pushed her away.

“Harry!” The rain had drenched them now, her hair hanging in her face.

“Hermione, I have to go.”

“No.” Her voice rippled with tears, “I need you. Especially now.”

“How come you turned away from me?” It was the question she’d wanted an answer to for four years. “And don’t give me some horrible excuse about Ron being killed. It’s a lie.”

“How can you say that? He was your friend too.”

“Yes. He was. And I stayed there for his family. For him. You, on the other hand, left both of us. All of us.”

“I couldn’t do it, Hermione. He was dead.”

“Yes, but disappearing didn’t change that, did it?”

His eyes were fire. “No! Is that what you want to hear? It didn’t change a bloody thing! There! What else do you want, Hermione?”

“I want to know why you left me standing there in the rain like an idiot.”

“No.”

“Well, there’s a word I’m used to from you. What happened to the Harry who told me everything?”

“You know the answer to that.”

“No, I’m not sure I do, Harry. You used to count on me, to trust me, to talk to me. Then one night you just left. And you weren’t even going to tell me.” She dropped her hands to her sides, surrendering, “What did I do?”

He couldn’t answer. If he did, everything would change all over again.

She looked down, mouth open as she cried, “I guess that’s all the answer I need.” She wiped at her eyes, doing no good. “Look at me, I’m soaked.”

“Hermione.”

“I should go, Harry. Like you said, someone’s waiting on me in there.” She made sure she held his gaze, “Not out here.”

It was Hermione who turned away this time.

And something rose within him. A semblance of the person who used to fight instead of the one who’d given up. I got years to wait… around for you.

He charged after her, grabbing her arm and pushing her, more roughly than he meant, against the side of the building, arms framing her small body.

Her eyes widened and she saw the fury in his, “Harry! Let me go.”

“No.” He hesitated, “I should’ve kissed you that night… when we were running in the rain.”

“Wh--”

She had no time to speak and only a split second to react before he kissed her. With a muffled, “mpfh” he pressed her hard and urgent, against the cold, wet stone of The Thestral.

Every thought absconded and she reached back for him just as desperately. His mouth was like fire and she drank it in, insides burning as she tasted him and rain and tears.

“Hermione? Jamie is wondering where you – Hermione!” The voice. It was Lavender. “What the bloody hell… is that… Harry? Harry Potter! Merlin! Oh…”

They’d barely broken apart before Lavender finished speaking.

“Oh my god.” Was all Hermione managed, hand still resting on Harry’s rapidly rising and falling chest.

“I… think I should go.” Lavendar said and disappeared, eyebrows raised, a smirk on her face.

They watched her go, stillness screaming over them.

Harry moved his face back to hers.

Hermione was clutching at her neck. “That was…”

“I shouldn’t have.” Harry said quietly, moving beside her, back against the wall.

“I don’t know if I agree with you there,” Hermione laughed and turned her head to face him.

“You’re laughing.” He was incredulous. “Five minutes ago you were yelling at me and storming off and now you’re laughing.” And for the first time in a long time, he felt like doing so as well.

“And three minutes ago you pushed me up against this wall and… well…” her laugh quieted. “What just happened?”

Harry sank to the ground, not caring about the pools of water that had formed in the concrete and she followed.

“I left because of you.” He’d been wanting her for ages. Not the way he wanted her this instant and for every day after this one, but he’d wanted his best friend.

He’d wanted someone to talk to.

“What?”

“That night. I thought I’d destroy you if I stayed.” The rain lessened mercifully, drops tingling on his arms.

“Destroy me? Harry your leaving destroyed me and --”

“Let me finish,” he said quickly. “I knew how I felt about you then, Hermione, but I’d been… obliterated.” He took her hand and looked it over as if it was an intricate piece of art, “And I was afraid I’d bring you down with me.”

“It wasn’t your choice. I didn’t even know how you felt.”

“Yes you did.”

“No.” She shook her head, “I didn’t. I knew how I felt. I knew there were all these bloody hints and I knew something had changed – in both of us – but we were in the middle of a war and romantic entanglements weren’t exactly on the forefront of discussions when it came time to talk about battle plans.”

“I wanted you.” He said simply, purely. “I wanted us.”

Her eyes shone in the black night. “You should have told me. That night…”

“That night was the worst night of my life and not telling you that I was,” he found her eyes, “that I am in love with you was a mistake. Every day, Hermione, every day I relive it. And then I think about being too late.” He looked at her, unsure, “And so you found me tonight…”

“Ron was right.” She said.

“Ron? Right?” He smiled, remembering without pain, “About what?”

“You being a selfish git.”

“Thank you, Hermione.” He said dryly. “Thanks, mate.” He looked up.

“You didn’t trust me.”

“You’re right. I didn’t trust what would happen to us with him gone. I took a great deal from you, I could have protected you so much more and I let you…”

“You didn’t let me do anything I didn’t want to do. You know enough of me to know that I’m not going to be told what to do.” She pulled his face to hers, “And nothing was going to keep me away from you. And nothing will as long as you don’t turn into a great prat again.”

“This doesn’t make it all go away, Hermione. There are demons.”

“You think I don’t have any of my own?”

“How can you forgive me after everything? How can you be around me? How can you just say OK?”

“Who says I do.”

“What?”

“Just being around you isn’t enough for me, Harry. Not anymore. When we were eleven, perhaps, but not now.” She smiled, “Not with… us. Not with love – don’t look at me like that. You’ve already said it, surely you’d want to know I love you too.” She squirmed a bit, “And really, pressing me against a building in the rain, is that the best you can do?”

He blushed at how brazen he’d been, at the chance he’d taken. “So what is?” He asked, looking like a little boy, “Enough for you?”

“Nothing. You stole four years from me and now I want everything – and then some.”

“What if I don’t have everything you want or need or…” Thunder. Rain drops again.

“Bollocks.” She tightened her grip on his hand, “You came after me this time.”

“How could I not?”

“Do me a favor?”

“What?”

“Stop talking.”

“Hermione…”

She stopped him, pressing her lips to his. It was all they needed and they clung together. Tears and rain and one another mingling on their lips and in their words – an abstract huddle that disappeared into the grasp of the London night.

The next morning, the sun shone.