Author's Note: To those of you anxiously awaiting the next chapter of The Bonds of Love, I apologize, this isn't it. This is a case of the plot bunny that wouldn't die. WARNING!: This is a MUCH darker story than The Bonds of Love, and contains considerable canon character death. The Harry - Hermione romance is also much slower to build in this one. With that warning, I present:
Shadow of the Heart Chapter One
A woman sat on a couch in a dilapidated house in America and stared down at a newspaper clipping and photos in a scrapbook. Her hair was a tangled mess and her eyes were dull and sunken and ringed with dark black circles. A half-empty bottle of Ogden 's Firewhiskey sat next to an ashtray overflowing with cigarette butts and the ends of joints.
Tears spilled down her face as she studied the worn pictures of friends she hadn't seen in a year. A newspaper clipping caught her attention and she stroked the face in the picture with a finger as she read the headline for the millionth time: "Boy Who Lived Dies in Final Battle with He Who Must Not Be Named." In smaller letters beneath the headline it read, "Many Others Lost as Well."
So many others, she thought morosely as she took a drink from the bottle. So many. Almost every seventh year member of the D.A. Ron. Ginny. Fred. George. Percy. Charlie. Bill. For every day of those twelve months, she would run through a mental litany of the dead. Dumbledore. Snape. McGonagall. Trelawney. Luna. Neville. Tonks. Shacklebolt. Her parents.
The litany continued to run through her mind even as she finished the bottle she was drinking from, and then got up and made her way unsteadily into the small kitchen to get another one. She cracked the seal on the new bottle as she made her way back to the couch, sat, and then lit a cigarette.
She reached the end of the litany with her usual, "Harry." She sat there in silence for moment, morosely gulping from the bottle. She stared down angrily at the deep scarring on her right leg. She'd refused to let the mediwizards heal the scars after the battle.
"Harry," she said to the room, "There should have been another name on that list, Harry. I should have been on that list. You know, they're calling me the 'Girl that Survived' now." She laughed bitterly. "They should call me the 'Coward Who Survived', or 'The Girl Too Chicken to Support Her Friends When They Needed Her.'" She took another gulp of whiskey.
Crookshanks came in from the bedroom where he usually slept, and climbed up into her lap. He nudged at the bottle with his nose, but she refused to put it down and he eventually gave up--as he did every night. He got off her lap, settled down next to her on the couch, and went to sleep.
She sat there, in the darkening room, and continued to drink until the bottle was empty. Eventually, her eyes closed and she dreamed, as she always did, of the final battle.
-*~*~*~*~*-
"Harry," said Hermione frantically, "You can't go out there. That's what he wants!"
Harry Potter sighed. "Hermione, I've told you about the prophecy. He and I have to face each other or this is never going to end."
It was the fourth day of the siege of Hogwarts. Every one that was left of the side of Light was holed up in the school. Voldemort, in addition to bringing the Dementors to his side, had also brought in the Giants, the Werewolves, and assorted other dark creatures. He'd used them to mount a massive assault on the Ministry of Magic. The loss of life had been horrendous. Minister Fudge, Percy Weasley, Arthur Weasley, and a number of other Senior and Not-So-Senior Ministry members had died.
What was left of the government was now ensconced at Hogwarts, along with what remained of the Order of the Phoenix . Voldemort had discovered that Severus Snape had been a traitor all along; but before he had killed him, he had broken him, and forced him to reveal the names of as many members of the Order as he could. However, he couldn't tell Voldemort the location of the Headquarters, being protected by the Fidelius Charm as it was, which was how Dumbledore had managed to save the rest of the Order.
Once the Ministry had been destroyed, Voldemort went on a rampage throughout Muggle London; Hermione's parents had been among the first victims of his attacks.
How he had managed to gain so much power so quickly, no one knew. Hagrid had been lost on his last mission to the giants, just as Remus Lupin had been lost trying to talk to the werewolves. No one knew anything anymore.
Harry had grown so despondent and withdrawn after these events that Hermione and Ron both thought that he secretly now had a death wish. Ron really wasn't much better. After the deaths of his father and Percy, he had become hardened and angry, ready to explode at the slightest thing. The only thing he seemed to care about anymore was his girlfriend Luna Lovegood. And Hermione, after her parents had died, had become insanely protective of Harry, not wanting to let him out of her sight for a moment.
"Harry, please," said Hermione, "I don't want to lose you like I lost my parents; you or Ron. Please! Don't go out there."
They were standing in the Great Hall, which had been turned into a makeshift infirmary for the large numbers of wounded, sick, and dying people they had. Madame Pomphrey bustled around the ward with her usual efficiency, although it was obvious that she and her assistants would not be able to keep up much longer. They looked exhausted. Everyone looked exhausted.
Harry looked around at the people lying around him, some of them people he considered friends, and looked back at Hermione. She could read the grief and determination in his eyes.
"'Mione," he said, taking her by the upper arms and looking into her eyes, "I can stop this. I'm going to beat him. You're not going to lose me. How can I lose when I've got you and Ron, plus the rest of the D.A. by my side? Together we're far stronger than he'll ever be. You taught me that."
"Yeah, 'Mione," said Ron, hugging Luna Lovegood to him, "We're going to kick his arse back to the hell he came from."
They'd quietly gathered every member of the D.A. they could, and slipped out the doors of the Great Hall. They had gathered in front of the main doors of Hogwarts when it happened; the thing that had cost her everything she ever cared about or dreamed of. Harry and Ron had pushed forward to the head of the group and opened the main doors. There were no professors around to stop them; they were either dead or dying in the great hall, or were already in defensible areas trying to defend the castle.
Hermione, for the first time in her life, was not up by Ron and Harry. She was suddenly overcome by a feeling that she had no name for; something that wouldn't let her push through the crowd slowly passing through the main doors so that she could be with Harry and Ron. She was scared and frightened; suddenly convinced that if she went out those doors, she'd never see Harry or Ron again. She froze for a moment, hesitating over joining Harry and Ron, and it was that hesitation that proved her (and their) undoing.
It was at that moment that a large rock, thrown by one of Voldemort's giants, came through the open doors and landed in the entryway, crushing a few of the straggling D.A. members. Hermione had thrown herself out of the way as she'd seen the rock come through the doors, which saved her from being crushed outright, but didn't save her from the rock rolling onto her leg, crushing it, and pinning her beneath it.
Harry and Ron had come back through the doorway and saw her lying there, and they both turned pale. They started to come over to help her.
"Go!" she screamed, "They'll be slaughtered without you two! I'll be alright!"
"Hermione," said Harry uncertainly.
"Go! Go now!" she said.
"I'll be back," he replied. He turned to look at Ron and then they both headed back out the doors. That was the last she ever saw of them.
She'd passed out from the pain shortly thereafter, and it wasn't until several hours later that she discovered what had happened. In the end, it turned out that almost everyone in the castle capable of fighting had charged into battle when they realized that Harry had gone out to face Voldemort. In the end, Harry had been victorious, but only at a horrendous cost. Every Auror, every Order member, almost the entire complement of teachers at Hogwarts (only Professor Binns didn't die), and just about every D.A. member above sixth year had fallen. And they had never found Harry's body.
She was told all of this several days later after she woke up in a bed in Saint Mungo's not knowing how she had gotten there.
-*~*~*~*~*-
She snapped awake and looked at the clock on the dingy wall. Almost 4 a.m. Crookshanks was still curled up on the couch next to her. Her bladder twinged painfully and she wearily stood up and made her way into the bathroom, where she flipped the light on, and took care of business. After she was done, she stood up and stared blearily at her reflection in the mirror. Her hair, once quite bushy, was now matted and had almost formed dreadlocks in places. Her once sparkling brown eyes were now dull and tired, staring out of a face that looked skeletal and drawn. She'd lost a lot of weight; her clothes hung loosely around her, and she suspected that if she cared to look, she would be able to see her ribs quite well. She didn't care.
She didn't care about much of anything at all these days. She'd moved to America to get away from the constant stares and whispering that occurred whenever she went out in public, but other than that, she hadn't paid much attention to anything else.
She turned to leave the bathroom and caught sight of the razor blade. She'd taped it to the wall and in one of her more manic moods scribbled "Emergency Exit" above it in red lipstick with an arrow pointing to it.
Maybe it's time, she thought, maybe it's time to just check out of here... without leaving a forwarding address. She giggled morbidly at her wit.
"What would Harry say?" asked another part of her mind.
"What would Harry say?" she returned. "He's dead, he can't say anything!"
I wish he hadn't left me everything, she thought. Why did you have to die, Harry? I wanted you, not your money. She started to tear up and headed back out to the couch where she lit up a joint from her stash and let the aromatic smoke carry her temporarily away from the pain.
When she came down from the high, it was three hours later, and sunlight was creeping in around the drawn blinds. Her stomach rumbled warningly and she stumbled out to the kitchen and looked for something to eat. After a few moments of searching, it became obvious that she wasn't going to find anything. She grabbed her keys, purse, and sunglasses, not caring a moment for the fact that she literally looked like hell, and let herself out into the warm June morning.
She lit a cigarette and then walked unsteadily down the street to the corner market. It was a beautiful day in central Florida ; the air was fresh and clean, and there were birds everywhere. But she didn't notice any of it, wrapped up as she was in her thoughts. She reached the market and dropped the cigarette in the ashtray by the door and went inside.
She'd picked a small Muggle town in central Florida . She'd picked Florida because she wanted the sunshine and Muggles because she really didn't want the recognition that came whenever she entered a Wizarding enclave. Her face had been splashed across the front pages of Wizarding newspapers worldwide, and anonymity was no longer possible.
She selected the few items that she wanted and took them up to the front cash register to pay for them. The elderly couple that owned the store had gotten to be friendly with her over the few months that she'd been living...if you could call it that, she thought...here.
"Hello, Miss," said the woman behind the check stand. She looked concernedly at the young woman across from her. "Dearie, if you don't mind my sayin' so, you don't look so good."
Hermione smiled weakly. "I've had a few things on my mind, Mrs. Thompson."
"That'll be ten dollars." said Mrs. Thompson. She continued, "Tain't nothin' worth killin' yourself over, honey. You're what, eighteen, nineteen? You've got your whole life ahead of ya." She smiled at Hermione, and said conspiratorially, "You need to clean yourself up and find yourself a good man."
The outright sympathy in the cashier's voice affected Hermione in way she hadn't expected, and she broke into tears, "You don't understand," she cried, "I had one, and now he's dead, and it's all my fault!" She tossed a ten dollar bill down on the check stand, grabbed her groceries, and fled the store.
She let herself back into her house, and put the groceries down on the counter. She put the milk and other things that could spoil in the refrigerator, and then she collapsed on the couch and let herself cry for all the things that she lost.
It was a half-hour later when she finally got up and made her way into the kitchen and made herself some breakfast. Afterwards, she let Crookshanks outside for the day.
-*~*~*~*~*-
Harry Potter arrived at the PortKey station in Tampa , Florida with a happy smile. He passed through immigration easily; his false passport identifying him as Harold Porter receiving only the most cursory of glances.
He still had a few friends in the Ministry; ones who'd survived the siege of Hogwarts, and were glad to do him a few easy favors. The passport was one of them. Another was keeping the Daily Prophet from trumpeting his return. And the third, most important one was finding Hermione for him.
He could only imagine what she must have gone through this last year, thinking that everyone was dead, including him. He himself was still trying to adjust to the fact that just about everyone he'd known was gone. He'd woken up in a wizard hospital on the continent eight months ago, after having been in a coma for four, suffering from a case of trauma-induced amnesia. The hospital had released him; and he'd spent another five months bumming around between France, Germany, Switzerland, and Italy before a chance encounter with a newspaper article in a library in Rome brought his memories crashing back into his head. He'd immediately headed across the channel to England , where he eventually had made contact with people in the Ministry. He'd heard the rumors even before he crossed the channel that the "Girl Who Survived" had vanished, and his number one priority was to find her.
The Ministry had managed to locate her in a small town in central Florida about a half-hour northeast of Tampa . They'd arranged Harry's passport and travel arrangements, and sent him on his way. Neville and Ginny, both of whom had been inaccurately reported as dead after the battle, had seen him off.
"Bring her back to us, Harry," said Ginny, crying, "We miss her so."
Harry had just nodded, uncertain of his ability to speak without breaking down himself. Ginny and Neville had been two of the first people he had encountered after his return to Wizarding London; and the emotional impact of that reunion still had him stunned. After all, he too had thought them dead.
He'd gone to Diagon Alley that day. It was still rebuilding after the destruction the Death Eaters had inflicted on it, and there was hardly anyone in the Leaky Cauldron when he'd stepped inside. Tom was still there though, and his jaw dropped when he saw who had stepped though the door. Harry held a finger to his lips for silence, not really wanting to attract attention to himself, and had gone up to the bar.
"As I live and breathe," whispered Tom in amazement, "Harry Potter. I thought you were..."
Harry smiled. "So does everybody else. I was in hospital on the continent trying to remember who I was. Apparently, the last battle was a little much for my mind." He frowned. "I think it was a little much for anybody."
Harry looked around the almost empty tavern. "Where is everybody?"
"They're all trying to rebuild, Harry. He...he hurt us bad, Harry."
Harry sighed, "I know. I still can't believe that everybody's gone."
Tom smiled. "Look around out there, Harry. You might find a few suprises."
Harry nodded. "It's been good to see you again, Tom. But I want to look around a little."
"Go on then, Harry. And good luck."
"Sure."
He'd stepped into Diagon Alley, and had been shocked. Many of the stores were still nothing but burnt out shells. He'd noticed that Florean Fortescue's was still there, and had headed that way, and that's when he'd run into them. He was half-way across the street when the door to Florean's opened and Ginny and Neville stepped out carrying ice cream cones. Ginny had seen him first, and the cone dropped from her hand, as she stared at him in stunned amazement for a moment.
"H...Harry?" she stammered.
Harry smiled and said, "Hello, Ginny."
"Oh my God!" she screamed, and a second later his arms were full of frantically hugging girl. Neville wasn't far behind her, his face split in a broad smile.
"Where have you been?" she asked hysterically, "We all thought..."
"I know," said Harry gently, "I was recovering in a Wizarding hospital on the continent. I don't know how I got there, I was in a coma for four months, and when I woke up, I couldn't remember who I was." He paused for breath, "I've been running around Europe for five months now; I ran across a Daily Prophet article in a library in Rome that made me remember everything, and now I'm back. I...I thought you guys were..."
"Dead?" asked Neville quietly. "A lot of people were reported dead in the chaos after the final battle, but not all of them really were."
"Charlie and mum are still alive; so are the twins," said Ginny, "But Charlie's never going to walk again, and the twins; the twins don't laugh much anymore. Mum...mum just sits and cries a lot."
"How's Hermione?" asked Harry.
Neville and Ginny both frowned. "We...we don't know, Harry," answered Ginny. "She disappeared about a week after the final battle, and nobody's heard from her since."
"We've heard rumors that she might be in America ," added Neville, "But nobody knows for sure."
"I'm afraid that she's cut herself off from the Wizarding world, and so she doesn't know we're alive," said Ginny.
Harry frowned. "I'm going to find her. Is there anybody left that could help?"
Neville smiled strangely. "You haven't seen today's paper then, have you?"
"Um, no," said Harry, puzzled.
Neville pulled it out from under his arm and unfolded it; first giving his ice cream cone to Ginny to hold. He showed Harry the front page: "Minerva McGonagall Named New Minister of Magic"
"Professor McGonagall?" asked Harry, "She's the new Minister of Magic?"
"Yes," answered Neville with a smile, "So I'd say there are people to help, Harry."
"How can I get in to see her, though?" asked Harry. "I don't want a big fuss made over the fact that I've returned."
Ginny smiled, "I think I can arrange that. My family's name still has some pull in the Ministry." She looked sad for a moment, "I wish..."
Harry nodded. "I know."
"Actually," she said, "Her assistant is also someone we know. Tonks survived as well. I suspect that she'll be glad to see you."
Harry smiled. "How did so many people get reported as dead when they weren't?"
"That's one of those things that nobody's been able to figure out," answered Neville. "It was so chaotic after the siege that things got reported that weren't true. Nobody really knew what was happening."
Harry nodded. "Well, what do you guys want to do now?"
"We were headed over to the twin's shop to floo back home." said Ginny. "You want to come along? I know they'd be absolutely thrilled to see you. It might make them happy again."
Harry smiled. "Of course I will, Ginny."
The three of them walked up the alley to Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes. It was looking a little run down. Neville opened the door and the three of them went inside.
"Hi, George!" shouted Ginny as they went in the shop. George, who was standing behind the counter reading the Daily Prophet looked up at his sister, and then caught sight of Harry. He dropped the paper.
"Harry?" he whispered, turning pale. "Fred, get out here now!" he shouted.
"What's wrong!?" came an answering shout and a moment later Fred came tearing out of the back room, his wand at the ready. He caught sight of Harry, promptly dropped the wand, and suddenly Harry found himself engulfed in a hug.
"Harry!" shouted Fred. "Where have you been? Have you been home to see mum yet?"
"Calm down, Fred, and let him talk," said Ginny.
"Fred, George," said Harry, "It's like I told Ginny and Neville. I was in a hospital on the continent, and I had amnesia. I only recently recovered my memory."
"We've got to take you home," said George. "Mum will be so happy to see you." He turned to his brother, "Close the shop, Fred. Sales haven't been that great anyway."
Fred went and locked the front door, turning the open sign to closed. The five of them walked into the back of the shop and flooed to the Burrow.
The reunion at the Burrow was just as emotional as Harry had expected it to be. Molly Weasley had turned pale and almost fainted after he stepped out of the fireplace and into the Burrow's living room. Shortly after that, she'd engulfed Harry in a hug, unable to speak. Charlie sat in a wheelchair in the back and just grinned at Harry.
After a few moments things had calmed down enough for the group of them to sit down and just stare at each other. After a few moments of that, Ginny said, "I'm going to call Tonks and see if I can set up that appointment for you, Harry."
She went over to the fireplace, tossed some Floo powder in, and said, "Minister of Magic's office." She stuck her head in the fire, but Harry could still hear her side of the conversation.
"Hiya, Tonks," she said.
"Yes, I know you're busy," she said in response to something that Tonks had said. "You need to come over here for just a moment, and no, I don't think it can wait. It's really important."
She sighed. "Tonks, I wouldn't ask if it wasn't really important. You know me."
"You will, great! Let me get out of the way." Ginny backed out of the fireplace, and shortly thereafter, a very weary, older looking Tonks stepped out of the fireplace.
"Okay, Ginny," she said, "What's so important that you had to call me away from work?"
"I think that would probably be me, Tonks," said Harry with a big grin.
Tonks stared at him. "Ha...ha...Harry," she stammered. "Oh, sweet Merlin, Harry!" She ran over to hug him, tripping over the living room rug in the process and almost winding up in Harry's lap.
"Whoa," he said, "I'm still recovering from the last hug." He grinned at her. "It's good to see you, Tonks."
"Where have you been?" She paused, "You had a beautiful funeral."
"Sorry I missed it," he said with a wicked grin. "The short form is that I woke up in a hospital on the continent not knowing who I was or how I got there. I still don't know how I got there, but I do know who I am again."
"Oh, Harry," said Tonks, "Minerva's going to be so glad to see you."
Harry smiled, "Actually, I wanted to see her. I was hoping she could tell me where Hermione is."
The room fell deadly silent at that. "Nobody knows, Harry," said Tonks seriously, "and to be honest, we haven't had the resources to look for her. We've been too busy trying to put the Ministry back together."
"I understand," he said, "But I've got to find her. Something tells me she's in some kind of trouble."
"We'll see what Minerva can do," replied Tonks. "She's got about an hour free right now; I can sneak you in via the Floo and we can avoid all the reporters. I assume you would like it kept quiet that you're back."
Harry nodded. "Let's go then," he said. He looked at the Weasleys and Neville, "I'll be back soon, I promise."
He went over to the fireplace with Tonks, and together they flooed to the Ministry.
-*~*~*~*~*-
"Wait here," said Tonks, "and I'll see if she's available." She went over to the door that led to the Minister's office and knocked before opening it.
"Minister," she said, "Have you got a moment? There's a young man out here in the office I think you should see."
"Tonks, I'm trying to eat my lunch."
"I really think you should see him," replied Tonks, "And I don't think he'll mind if you eat your lunch while you talk."
"Oh, all right, Tonks, send him in. But I swear, if it's one more idiot wanting to discuss his department's budget, I'll...!"
Tonks stepped back out of the doorway. "Go on in, she'll see you now."
"Thanks," murmured Harry as he walked past her and into the Minister's office.
"You can have a seat," snapped McGonagall without looking up from her desk. "Now, what was so important that it couldn't wait until after I finished my lunch?"
She looked up and froze, mouth open, and her sandwich half-way to her mouth. "Harry? Harry Potter?"
"Hello, Professor, or should I say Minister," he replied.
She sat there staring at him in that pose until Harry started to feel uncomfortable. "Minister, please, eat your lunch. You look rather funny that way."
She blinked and then looked down at her half-eaten sandwich. "Oh, yes," she muttered. She put the sandwich down on her desk.
"Harry Potter," she said in amazement, "It is you, isn't it?"
"Last time I checked, it was, Prof...er, Minister."
She smiled, "You can call me Professor, Harry, I won't mind." She looked at him amazedly, "How? Where? I don't know where to begin."
He smiled. "Well, I do. I woke up in a Wizarding Hospital on the continent about five months ago. I had no idea how I got there or who I was. I've been wandering around the continent since then trying to put the pieces together, and I eventually came across a Prophet article that triggered something, and made me remember everything."
"Oh, my," she said.
"Professor, I'll get straight to the point. I need to know where Hermione is. Nobody seems to be able to tell me."
Minister McGonagall frowned. "I know. We haven't been able to look for her, and to be honest, I'm not sure she wants to be found."
Harry sighed, "I just can't help feeling that there's something seriously wrong with her. And I seriously doubt that she wouldn't want to be found by me. She thinks I'm dead, for crying out loud!"
Minister McGonagall sighed. "I know that, Harry. Look, I can't put very many people on it; we simply don't have the resources. But I'll see what I can do. It may take a while though."
"Start looking in the U.S. ," he said, "I have the strongest feeling that's where she is."
McGonagall had been true to her word, and although it had taken them almost three months to track her down, they had. He still remembered when Tonks came through the floo at the Burrow to tell him.
He'd been playing Wizard Chess with Neville, and losing abysmally. Ginny was watching the game, and trying to give Harry advice whenever he made a particularly bad move.
"Your move," said Neville.
"I know," Harry sighed.
The fireplace flared and Tonks stepped into the house. "Harry, they found her!" she shouted.
"What?" he said, "Where is she?"
"She's in a small Muggle town in Central Florida . Some place called Dade City . They don't have her exact address, but it isn't that big a town."
She was carrying a small packet of papers which she handed to him. "Here's your passport. We faked it so that your name is Harold Porter. We figured you don't want the attention your real name would get you."
"Thanks, Tonks," replied Harry.
"There are also two envelopes in there as well. One contains your portkey there. The Yanks are kind of particular about how people enter the country, so it will deposit you at the closest portkey station. It's in a city called Tampa . You'll have to go through immigration, but that shouldn't be that difficult. There's a map in there that shows you how to get to Dade City from Tampa ."
"The other envelope contains two portkeys, one for you and one for her. They'll drop you back here in the Burrow."
Harry smiled gratefully. "Thanks, Tonks. You don't know how much this means to me. Thank the Minister for me as well, would you?"
"Sure, Harry."
He turned to Neville and Ginny. "Well, I guess this is it. Hopefully, we'll be returning in a few days. If it's going to take longer than that, I try to get a message to you."
"Oh," said Tonks, as if reminded of something, "There's a telephone in the Minister's Office." She reached in her pocket and pulled out a business card and a cell phone. "The number's on the card. Use the phone whenever you need to. I'll relay any messages you want."
"Thanks, Tonks," said Harry.
"Bring her back to us, Harry," said Ginny tearfully, "We miss her so much."
Harry nodded, stashed the paperwork in the pockets of his robes except for the portkey to Florida , opened the envelope, and grabbed the portkey.
-*~*~*~*~*-
Once he was through Customs and Immigration, he looked around for an information booth. He didn't want to risk trying to drive a car in the U.S. For one thing, he didn't have a license, and second, he simply didn't like driving--he much preferred a broom, or even a flying Ford Anglia.
He found the kiosk and walked up to it. The man sitting behind the counter looked up from his newspaper as Harry walked up, and said, "Can I help you?"
"Yes, I'm looking for transportation to Dade City ," replied Harry.
"So rent a car," was the reply.
"Um, I don't drive."
The man sighed. "Look bud, everybody drives in the States. You ever driven a car at all?"
"I drove a flying car once, if that counts," said Harry.
"A flying car, really? Who charmed it?" asked the man, suddenly interested.
"My best friend's father. He had a fascination for Muggle devices."
"Oh, well, it wouldn't matter anyway, they aren't legal here anyway."
"They aren't in Britain either," said Harry with a smirk.
"So you've never actually driven a car on a road before?"
"No, can't say that I have," replied Harry, "But I really need to get to Dade City ."
"All right, since you look like a nice guy and I wouldn't want you to get into trouble, go across the way to the Avis rental place, not the Hertz lot--that guy'll rip you off, and tell 'em that Colin sent you. They'll fix you up with a car that's been charmed to drive itself. You just sit behind the wheel, and the car'll get you there."
"Thanks...Colin, is it?"
"Yeah. Good luck, Kid."
Harry went across the street to the Avis rental lot that Colin had told him about. It was somewhat crowded and he had to wait in a short line until he reached the representative at the desk. She was a tall, pretty brunette who wore a nametag that read Amanda.
"Can I help you, sir?" she said cheerfully.
"Um, Colin sent me," said Harry nervously.
Her face twitched ever so slightly and then she sighed and said, "Not another one. I'm sorry, but we're all out of our specials. We had a convention come through here and they cleaned us out."
Harry's face fell. "Oh, hell, I really need to get to Dade City . A friend of mine is in trouble and I need to get to her."
"Her?" inquired Amanda with a smile.
"Yeah."
"She's just a friend?"
Harry smiled, "She might be more than that, but I won't know until I get there."
Amanda smiled and said, "You know, I usually have a good sense of people, and I think you're perfectly safe. Tell you what I'll do. I'm off work here in about ten minutes, and then I'll give you a ride up to Dade City . It's only about 45 minutes away."
Harry's face lit up. "Hey, thanks!"
Amanda smiled back. "No problem. You can sit over there." She pointed at some chairs next to a window.
Harry thanked her and went and sat down. He stared out the window until Amanda came up to him.
"You ready?" she asked.
"Sure," he said. He followed her outside and to a bright red Ford Mustang parked around the corner from the building. She pulled a key ring from her pocket and pressed a button on it, causing both locks to pop up and the car to emit a chirping sound. They got in the car, buckled their seatbelts, and Amanda started the car and pulled out into traffic. They drove in silence for about ten minutes, the only sound being provided by the radio which was playing in the background.
Once Amanda had made it through most of the traffic and had merged onto something called Highway 301, she turned to him and said, "Okay, who's this girl and why is she so special?"
Harry looked back at her and said, "I'll tell you that if you'll tell me if you are a witch or a Muggle."
"Why does it matter" she returned, "You aren't one of those pureblood nuts, are you?"
"When the girl I'm trying to find has two Muggle parents? I don't think so. However, I also think you just answered my question. I doubt a Muggle would know to ask that question."
Amanda just smiled, and then tapped the stick she had holding her hair up. When Harry looked at it closer, he realized it was a wand.
"Okay, then," he said, and then paused. "Well, what makes her so special? She's the best friend I've ever had. She's a brilliant witch, probably the smartest I know, and she has these deep brown eyes that you can just kind of sink into." He sighed.
"Sounds like she's really special," said Amanda. She cleared her throat, and then looked at him nervously. "You're describing Hermione Granger, aren't you, Mr. Potter."
Harry smiled, "Found me out, did you? Do me one favor, don't tell anyone I'm here. I really don't want a huge crowd following me around."
Amanda relaxed. "I wasn't sure how you'd take that," she said. "Of course I won't tell anyone. So, the 'Girl Who Survived' ended up here, hunh?" she asked.
Harry frowned, "Don't call her that, please. I hated being called 'The Boy Who Lived' and I'm sure she doesn't much like that name either. We think that she thinks that everybody is dead back home, and I'm not sure what that's done to her."
"Oh, that's terrible," said Amanda. "What made her think that?"
"I assume you know about my final battle with Voldemort and all that?"
"Yes. Hey, wait a minute, aren't you supposed to be dead too?"
Harry smiled, "What's that saying? 'Reports of my death have been greatly exaggerated?' I wound up in a hospital with no memory of how I'd gotten there or who I was. Took me quite a while to recover."
"Anyway, right after the battle, the newspaper accounts of who had died in the battle were largely incorrect. Hermione didn't stick around long enough to find that out."
"Oh. So she lives in Dade City now? Why so far from our world?"
Harry frowned. "I think she wanted to get away from anything that might remind her of our friends."
They rode in silence after that, and about twenty minutes later, Amanda pulled into the parking lot of a small market in Dade City . "So where do we go from here?"
"I'm not really sure," he answered. "This was as close as we were able to track her. I'm going to walk around with a picture of her and see if anybody has seen her or knows where she is."
"It's a Muggle picture, right?"
Harry rolled his eyes, "Of course it is."
"Do you want me to stick around?"
Harry shook his head. "No. I really appreciate you bringing me up here, but I don't know how long this is going to take, and I'm sure you have other things you want to do."
"Well, if you're sure," she said doubtfully.
"Thanks, Amanda," said Harry.
She frowned and then pulled a business card out of her pocket. She took a pen out of the center console and scribbled a couple of numbers on the back of the card.
"Here," she said, handing it to him. "The first number is my cell phone, and the second is my home phone. If you can use my help for any reason, feel free to give me a call."
"Thanks again, Amanda. I really appreciate this."
"Hey, it's not everyday I get to give a celebrity a ride in my car, even if he is about as unassuming a celeb as I've ever seen."
Harry frowned, "I never wanted to be a celebrity; and definitely not for the reasons I became famous."
Amanda nodded and said, "There is that."
Harry opened the door and got out of the car. "Hey," said Amanda, "Let me know what happens, okay?"
Harry smiled and said, "I've got your number." He closed the door. "Drive carefully."
"I always drive carefully," she said with a smile, and then pulled out of the parking lot with squealing tires.
Harry watched her go with something resembling regret in his eyes.
-*~*~*~*~*-
Harry walked in to the market and pulled the picture of Hermione out of his pocket. He realized that he must look a little strange; robes weren't exactly standard wear in Florida .
"Can I help you?" asked the lady behind the check stand.
"Maybe," said Harry, walking over to her.
Her face twitched briefly when he spoke.
"Is something wrong?" he asked.
"Oh, no," she said, "It's just your accent reminds me of a young lady that comes in here fairly often."
Harry's heart leaped. "Does she look like this?" He asked excitedly, displaying the picture he had in his hand.
The lady examined the picture carefully. "She's a little older than this picture, and she doesn't look nearly as happy or as healthy, but yes, I think it's the same woman."
"Oh, thank Merlin," he said with a sense of relief, forgetting that he was standing in front of a Muggle.
"Thank who?" she inquired with a raised eyebrow.
"What?" asked Harry, "Oh, it's a saying from where I come from."
She smiled, "I'm a squib, son. Teresa Thompson. Bob and I moved here a long time ago because we wanted to get away from a world where we just didn't quite fit in. But we never forgot." She paused and looked at the picture again. "So, she's a witch, is she? She looks familiar, now that I think about it."
Harry frowned, "I doubt that she wants any kind of notoriety."
"Oh, now I know who she is," said Mrs. Thompson, "She was in the International Wizarding Tribune, wasn't she? The 'Girl Who Survived' wasn't it?"
Harry nodded. "Please don't call her that. That's not who she is."
Mrs. Thompson nodded. "I know. That is one unhappy woman. She came in this morning looking just about the worst I've ever seen her, and just reeking of booze, cigarettes, and marijuana."
She looked sad for a moment. "I was teasing her, saying that she should clean herself up and find herself a good man, and she ran out of her crying that she'd already had one, but that he was dead, and it was all her fault."
Harry sighed. "I was afraid of that. I'm the person she thinks is dead, among others. Since you know who she is, you can figure out why she thinks that."
"Then that makes you..." said Mrs. Thompson with dawning realization.
Harry nodded. "Can you tell me where she lives?"
"You're in luck. She lives about a block up that way. Just look for the house with the overgrown front yard and the palm tree."
"Thanks, Mrs. Thompson."
"No problem, Mr. Potter. And don't worry, I won't tell anyone you're here."
Harry turned and left the store, putting the picture back into the pocket of his robes. He turned in the direction Mrs. Thompson had pointed and started walking, looking for the house with the overgrown front yard and a palm tree. He found it fairly quickly, and stood on the sidewalk trying to decide what to do next.
-*~*~*~*~*-
Hermione had spent the day in her usual fashion; alternating shots of whiskey with smoking marijuana. But rather than give her the usual escape from her emotions, it instead merely increased her depression; the words from Mrs. Thompson ricocheting around in her mind like out of control billiard balls.
"Find a good man, right," she said bitterly. "I had one, and I let him slip through my fingers. He told me he'd be back, and like the fool I was, I believed him!"
"Oh, Harry, if I'd just been up front with you and Ron, where I belonged, then none of this would have happened. The rock never would have hit me, and you wouldn't have died."
She rode her emotional rollercoaster for the rest of the morning, and late into the afternoon; further destroying her liver and lungs. Finally, in a fit of absolute disgust, she flung her glass across the room where it shattered against the wall, leaving runnels of whiskey running down the wall.
She wandered into the bathroom and sat on the toilet, staring the whole time at the razor blade taped to the wall. After a while, she sighed and un-taped the blade from the wall. "This way to the emergency exit," she giggled.
She sat for awhile and just studied the unblemished skin of her left wrist; the smoothness of it, the light tracery of veins just beneath the surface, and the tendons running up the center.
Eventually she tested the blade against her skin. It was very sharp, and it didn't take much pressure at all to bring blood welling to the surface in a small cut. She was numb, emotionally and physically, and felt nothing at all except an extreme weariness.
She started to cut deeper.
-*~*~*~*~*-
Harry, meanwhile, was dithering around on the front sidewalk, when he noticed a familiar four legged form come running up to him. Crookshanks pawed at Harry's leg and meowed.
"Crookshanks!" he said, bending down to pick him.
Crookshanks backed out of range, and then jerked his tail at the house.
"You want me to go knock?"
Crookshanks headed for the front door with Harry following him.
"Is something wrong?" asked Harry, now concerned as he really hadn't seen the Kneazel act this way before.
Crookshanks reached the front door and was pawing at it for all he was worth, almost yowling in frustration.
Harry tried the door, but found it locked. "It's locked, boy," he said.
He knocked on the door but there was no answer.
-*~*~*~*~*-
Hermione heard the knock at the door, but simply didn't care to get up and go answer it. There were small droplets of blood all over the bathroom floor, and she would stop every once and a while from cutting her arm to watch them drip on the floor. She found fascinating the drip patterns formed by them and by her tears dripping into them.
-*~*~*~*~*-
Harry was getting a little worried. It was obvious that Crookshanks was greatly upset about something, and finally he pulled out his wand and muttered a quick "alohomora."
The door clicked and he pushed it open and entered the house. The living room was dark and dirty looking, and it reeked of cigarettes, whiskey, and other things. There was an almost empty bottle of Ogden 's sitting on the table and an overflowing ashtray.
He could see light coming from the bathroom, and could also hear crying. Concernedly, he rapidly made his way back to the bathroom, and stopped for a moment in shock at what he saw. Hermione was sitting on the toilet lid, slowly and determinedly carving at her arm with a razor blade. Blood was already running in steady rivulets and dripping off her elbow onto the floor. He stood there horrified for what felt like long minutes to him before screaming, "Hermione, stop!"
Her head snapped up and she stared at him with incomprehension written across her face. Finally, some semblance of recognition crept into her features, and a number of emotions passed across her face to quickly for him to recognize. Finally, she mumbled, "How can you be here? You're dead. Have you come to take me home with you?"
Harry stared at her with grief and compassion written across his features. This was a very sick young woman he had in front of him, and he wasn't sure what to do about it. She needed someone to take care of her; to reassure her that everything was going to be alright. But most of all, she needed someone to love her, because it was obvious that she was incapable of loving herself at the moment. But first, I need to fix those cuts, he thought. He pulled out his wand and muttered a quick healing charm, healing the wounds on her arm.
"What did you do that for," she asked dully, "I need to die so I can go with you." She went to cut her wrist again, and Harry grabbed her arm before she could.
"Hey, you're no ghost," she mumbled drunkenly as he managed to remove the razor blade from her fingers without getting cut himself. He threw it in the sink.
"You need some sleep, 'Mione," he said. "Come on, and lets get you in bed."
He helped her up from the toilet and led her down the hall to the bedroom. It was obvious she didn't use it much. The bed was unmade, but it was covered in laundry that she'd never gotten around to putting away. He pushed a bunch of it off the bed and let her collapse down onto it.
"I know you won't be here in the morning," she mumbled sadly, "Why didn't you let me go with you?" She struggled to sit up.
She still thinks I'm dead, he thought sadly. He realized that he'd probably be fighting her all night to keep her from hurting herself, and so it was with regret that he pulled out his wand and muttered "somnus."
She fell asleep.
He yawned and realized that he needed some sleep as well. He was still operating on London time and it was very late in the evening there. He took the pillow off the other side of the bed, threw it on the floor, and laid down with his head on it. His mind didn't want to let him sleep, but his body said otherwise, and soon he had drifted off.