Pieces

carondelet

Rating: G
Genres: Angst, Drama
Relationships: Harry & Hermione
Book: Harry & Hermione, Books 1 - 5
Published: 22/01/2005
Last Updated: 22/01/2005
Status: completed

[completed; not canonical] She laughs, facing the sun overhead, spreading her arms to feel the warmth. He watches her, joy appearing plainly upon his face.

Chapters

1. Pieces

1. Pieces

Rating: G

Title: Pieces

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters, settings, and situations created and owned by J.K. Rowling as published by, including and not limited, to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books, Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. The use of these characters and settings is for entertainment purposes only; no infringement is intended or should be inferred.

Spoiler Alert: There aren’t any spoilers, really. But we can pretend that there are some for Books 1—5.

Summary: She laughs, facing the sun overhead, spreading her arms to feel the warmth. He watches her, joy appearing plainly upon his face.

Pairings: Harry/Hermione

Author's Notes: Another one-off, another exercise. This is H/Hr and is angsty. Again. I kept it to 700 words. It’s Hermione’s POV, something I’ve not attempted before.

__________________________________________________________________________

PIECES

[] …FELL TO…

_________________________________________________________________________

She walked into the bathroom. Her reflection stared back from the mirror above the sink. By Merlin, I’m starting to look old, she thought to herself. The streaks of grey and white in her hair were all the more pronounced under the vanity lights. There were slight wrinkles around her eyes, and dark circles underneath them. She looked tired. Old and tired.

She stepped into the shower. The feel of the warm water against her skin brought a memory from the depths of her mind. One from her youth.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

A cerulean sky, the sun bright and warm overhead. Mid day, nearing lunch time. Birds chirping their wonderful natural symphony. The sound of the lake front lapping against the shoreline. The feel of the grass beneath her feet.

“It’s beautiful.”

“I told you that it would be.”

“I didn’t doubt you.”

“Of course you did. I could tell by the look on your face.”

He smiles at her, shyly, although he has no reason to be diffident.

“Happy anniversary.”

“Happy anniversary.”

The mountainside on the horizon rises high above them, majestic and silent and dark.

“You don’t look bad for someone who just celebrated their six month anniversary.”

She laughs, facing the sun overhead, spreading her arms to feel the warmth. He watches her, joy appearing plainly upon his face.

“Neither do you.”

“Oh, I thank you.”

She takes in a deep breath, smelling the sweet perfume of the blooming flowers. This is one of her favourite places, one of his as well. Worry infringes upon her happiness.

“You don’t think that we’ll get in trouble, do you?”

“Of course not. It’s Otherstide. Everyone goes on the mitch during Otherstide.”

“It’s not that which bothers me. It’s the anniversary part.”

“No one else knows about that. We’re fine. We’ve been careful.”

He holds her from behind in a comfortable embrace.

“That’s quite easy for you to say, isn’t it? Everything seems to come so easily to you. Take going on the mitch, for example. I mean, you do this sort of thing all the time.”

He turns her to face him, mock incredulity on his face.

“Who says?”

“Seamus, for one. Dean for another. And don’t forget Ron—“

“Oh, all right. So I’m not terribly fond of Hogwarts’ rules sometimes.” He pouts and as a result appears far younger than his years. She laughs again, amused by his disposition. “And why are you so academically minded, my dear?”

“Because, my dear, I want to graduate at the top of our class, I want to best you and our friends, and I want to an entrance at the Ministry for all my hard work.” He looks down at her in mild surprise, the sun brightening his handsome features.

“So you want to be an Auror, do you?”

She grins, moving the hair from his forehead with her fingertips.

“Yes, silly, just like you.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Hermione Granger ran her hands through her hair, running the last of the rinse from it. “I wanted to be with you,” she whispered softly. She finished her shower and turned the water off, stepping out into the bathroom. She quickly towelled herself dry, a habit she had developed when Dolohov left The Mark upon her during the botched rescue in the Department of Mysteries. Even though it was only evident on an invisible, magical level, she still thought she could see the line of separation between her normal flesh and the scarred flesh. She straightened and caught her reflection in the mirror yet again.

“I’m older now,” she said with a forced sigh, “but now I’m wet too.” She made herself grin at the remark. Then the grin dissipated into a frown. “I wonder what you look like now,” she mouthed silently, as she ran a finger down the cheek of her mirror image. “Do you still look like my Harry? Are you crying right now? Would you even recognize me, love?” she whispered. She watched a droplet of condensation chase madly after her finger. She pulled away from the mirror and watched the surface fog again, the collecting steam obscuring her face from view, hiding the tears that welled in her eyes. “…Harry…where…why did you leave…me?”