Shadow of the Heart

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.

A/N: Well, here it is. Sorry it's taken so long, but R/L has been a bear lately. Hope y'all enjoy it.

Chapter Two

Harry awoke ten hours later with the morning light peeking through the shades and Crookshanks licking his face.

He sat up and looked around. Hermione was still asleep on the bed. He hadn't really gotten a good look at her last night, but now, as he studied her in the feeble light, he realized just how tired and worn she looked.

"Oh, Hermione," he whispered, "How did it come to this?"

He got up and used the bathroom. He shook his head at the lipsticked message on the wall, and then looked around for a sponge to clean it and the blood up. There was nothing.

Sighing, he went out to the kitchen, and discovered, much as Hermione had yesterday, that there was nothing to eat.

He found her purse, took the money out of her wallet, and put it, along with her keys, in his pocket. He put some food down for Crookshanks, patted him on the head, and let himself out of the house.

He wasn't worried about Hermione waking up before he got back. She was still under the charm. He walked back down the street and to the market he'd stopped in the day before.

"Hello again," said Mrs. Thompson with a cheery smile. "Did you find her?"

Harry smiled weakly. "Yes, yes I did."

In a manner of speaking, he mentally added.

"Is she all right?" asked Mrs. Thompson.

"She’s been better," he replied. “She’s sleeping right now. I came in for some food and some cleaning supplies. I was going to take her back to England with me, but I don't think she's ready for that yet. That house of hers is a complete mess, and there isn't a bite to eat."

"Go ahead, dear," she said. "If you haven't got the money right now, I can extend you credit. You take care of that girl, you hear me?"

"Yes, ma'am" said Harry. He grabbed a shopping cart and went up and down the aisles, buying enough food for three people for a months worth of meals, and assorted cleaning supplies.

"Oh, my," she said with a smile, "You think you have enough there?"

"I hope so," said Harry.

“It’s a good thing you’re cleaning the ‘old-fashioned’ way,” she said with a conspiratorial air as she looked at the cleaning supplies. “Out here, where people like us are few and far between? The F.B.M.I. tends to take a dim view of foreigners just using their abilities without a by your leave.”

“The F.B.M.I.?” asked Harry.

“Yes, the Federal Bureau of Magical Investigation; they enforce the Statute of Secrecy here in America .”

“Oh,” said Harry.

She rang up all the groceries and the total came to quite a bit more than Harry had removed from Hermione's purse. He went to give her what he had as a down payment, and she stopped him.

"Keep that for when you need to go some place that won't extend you credit. I'm not worried; I know you're good for it."

Harry smiled. "It's nice to know that there are still such nice people still in the world."

She let him borrow the shopping cart to carry all of the groceries home in, provided he brought it back later, which he cheerfully agreed to. He thought that he must look rather strange pushing the cart down the sidewalk, but no one that he passed even gave him a second look. He reached the house and took the cart under the carport and back by the kitchen door so that it would be easier to bring the groceries in the house. After he'd carried the groceries and cleaning supplies into the house, and put the groceries away, he cleaned up the kitchen, and went to clean the bathroom.

Now that he had a moment to actually look around the bathroom, he realized that it reeked of dark magic. He frowned, wondering why. It's not like Hermione would have intentionally been casting dark spells, he thought. He pulled out his wand and tried a "scourgify" on the lipstick on the wall. It didn't come off.

Really frowning now, he tried again, with the same lack of effect. He shook his head, and then remembered the cell phone that Tonks had given him. “Maybe somebody at the Ministry will know how to get rid of this,” he thought.

He pulled the phone out of his pocket, along with the business card, and dialed the number.

"Minister of Magic's office," said Tonks' welcome voice.

"Hi, Tonks," he said, "It's Harry."

"Harry! Did you find her?"

"Yeah," he said. "It's bad Tonks. I stopped her from killing herself last night."

"Oh, no, Harry," she said, horrified.

"Yeah. She's in no condition to come home yet. I think I could really use some help here."

"What can I do, Harry?" she asked.

"Would you mind seeing if Ginny would want to come for awhile? Hermione still thinks that everybody is dead back home, and seeing some one else might really help."

"I don't think that'll be a problem, Harry."

"I think I can have somebody bring her up here," he said, "I'll have to check though." He ran his hand through his hair. "Tonks, I need to know how I can clean up dark magic. The bathroom I found her in last night reeks of it, and the blood and lipstick simply won't come off. I've tried."

"Oh, Harry," she said sadly, "Wait...lipstick?"

"She wrote the phrase 'Emergency Exit' on the wall. I don't know why, although I can imagine. Scourgify won't remove it."

"I'll see what I can find out. Let me contact Ginny and set up her travel arrangements and I'll get back to you."

"I don't know how to thank you, Tonks. You guys have done so much for me."

"Harry..." He could hear Tonks sniffing in the background, "Harry, you've done far more for us. Take care of yourself and I'll be talking to you in a little while."

"Thanks again, Tonks." He hung up the phone. After a moment, he pulled out the card that Amanda had written her numbers on and dialed her cell phone.

"Yo! It's Manda," she said.

"Hi, Amanda," answered Harry, "It's Harry."

"Hey! Did you find your friend?"

"Yes, I did. Um, Amanda, would you mind doing me a favor?"

"Whatcha need?” she asked.

"A friend of mine should be portkeying in today or tomorrow, and I was wondering if you could bring her up here. I can let you know the time once I know."

"Is everything okay?" she asked.

"Not really," said Harry. "I walked in on her just as she was trying to kill herself."

"Oh, geez," she said. "Is there anything else I can do to help? I've got the next couple of days off."

"Other than picking up my friend, I can't think of anything at the moment," answered Harry. "I'm still trying to adjust to everything."

"I can understand that," she said. "Well, let me know when your friend will be arriving, and I'll pick her up."

"Thanks, Amanda, I appreciate it."

"De nada, amigo. TTYL." She hung up the phone.

Harry stared at the phone for a moment. Americans certainly used the strangest phrases. "TTYL" what did that mean? He shook his head and put the phone away.

He went back into the kitchen and began to cook breakfast. He was standing in the kitchen reading the directions on the back of a package of blueberry muffin mix, when the phone rang.

He answered it, "Hello?"

"Hey, Harry. Tonks here. Ginny should be arriving this afternoon about 2 p.m. your time. You got transportation arranged?"

"Yes, it's a woman named Amanda. I'll tell her what Ginny looks like, and she'll probably be waiting for her."

"Ok. Regarding your other question, I'm sending a book along with Ginny. It’s all about psychic residue left by emotional trauma, and how you can clean it up.

"Thanks, Tonks."

"Well, I gotta get back to keeping the gears of Government clicking along. See ya later, Harry.”

"Bye, Tonks," he replied.

"Bye."

Harry hung up the phone. He tossed the box of muffin mix on the counter, disgusted with the incomprehensible American measurement system, and then dialed Amanda again.

"Yo! It's Manda."

"It's Harry."

"Hey! So when's she arriving?"

" Two o'clock . She'll be the tall, skinny, red-headed teenager. Her name is Ginny, Ginny Weasley."

"The Ginny Weasley? Ron Weasley's sister?"

Harry sighed, "How do you know so much about that?"

"It was big news here, and I read all the articles. If the truth be known, I found Ron to be rather attractive."

Harry snickered. "I think he would've liked that, Amanda. He probably would've found you attractive as well." He cleared his throat. "Do me a favor though, and don't bring up Ron with Ginny. She's still kind of sensitive about it."

"I won't, Harry. I'm sorry; I must be coming off like some kind of demented groupie or something."

"No," he said, "You're not. It's just... Well, we’re all a little tired of all the notoriety. We're famous for all the wrong reasons. Hey, I need to go wake my friend up, so I'll talk to you later?"

"Sure. Ginny Weasley. 2 p.m. Portkey station. I'll be there, Harry."

"Thanks, Amanda, I really appreciate it."

"Hey, what's your number? So I can call you once we get closer to Dade City and you can tell me where you are."

"Actually, Amanda, I don't know what it is. I was given this cell when I left England , but I don't know its number. Besides, it's probably an international call for you. However, directions are easy. Remember the market you dropped me off at?"

"Yeah."

"Turns out the house is only a block up the street from there. Look for the house with no car in the driveway, and an overgrown front lawn with a palm tree."

"Okay. Will do. TTYL." She hung up.

-*~*~*~*~*-

He entered the bedroom and stood over her, noticing that the worry wrinkles had smoothed out in her face, and she looked much more like the Hermione he remembered before everything had gone so wrong.

He passed his wand over her, and muttered the counter charm that would let her wake up naturally, rather than force her awake.

After a few moments, she started to toss and turn and mumble in her sleep, and with a shout of "Harry!" she snapped awake.

She opened her eyes and looked at him uncomprehendingly for a moment, and then turned frightfully pale. "Oh, my God," she moaned, "It wasn't a dream. You're really here."

"Yeah, 'Mione, I'm really here," replied Harry with a smile.

"Oh, God, Harry, what you must think of me." She burst into tears. "I'm a drunk, a doper, and a suicidal idiot all in one."

He reached out and took her trembling hand in his. "Hermione, I don't see any of those things. I see a horribly hurt person trying to understand why everything she ever cared about was so callously ripped away from her. I see my friend, my best friend, who needs my help."

The love in his voice was almost more than she could bear, and she burst into a fresh torrent of tears.

"Where were you?" she asked, finally. "I needed you so much in those first days, and you just weren't there."

"I know. I was lying in a hospital bed on the continent in a coma. I didn't wake up until four months later, and when I did, I couldn't remember who I was. It took me another five months before I regained my memory."

He paused, and then looked at her. "I went back to Diagon Alley, Hermione, and there I discovered some wonderful things."

"Like what?" she asked.

"For one thing, I ran into Neville and Ginny. They were the first people I saw when I entered the Alley," he said earnestly.

"But...they're dead," she whispered, but with a hint of hope in her voice. The first hope she'd felt in a long time.

"No they're not, 'Mione. And neither are Fred, George, Charlie, Molly, Tonks, or Professor McGonagall. Oh, actually I should call her Minister McGonagall now; she's the newly elected Minister of Magic."

She burst into tears again.

"'Mione, what's wrong? I'd thought you'd be happy to hear that," he said anxiously.

"Oh, Harry, I feel like such a fool. Here I am, supposedly the smartest witch of our generation, and I'm sitting in a dump in the States drinking myself into a coma without even bothering to find out if it's necessary!"

"You can change that, you know," he said. "I've got a pair of portkeys spelled to take us home anytime we want. We just grab them, and zip, we're standing in the Burrow. When you're ready, that is."

She nodded and was silent for a moment. "So Ron really is gone then," she said.

Harry nodded, "Yes he is, Hermione. I saw him take two Death Eaters down with a single spell before two killing curses hit him at the same time. I don't think he even knew what hit him."

Harry swallowed the lump in his throat, "He was one of the best friends I ever had, and I will miss him always. But don't you go dying on me too; I don't think I could bear it."

He looked away for a moment, blinked to clear his eyes of the tears in them, and then said, "Come on, we need to go eat breakfast, and then we have some work to do."

"Work to do?" she asked, curious.

"Yes," he replied, "We're having a guest arrive today, and I don't think you want to have the house looking like this when Ginny arrives."

"Ginny's coming?" she asked, with the first hint of excitement he'd heard out of her.

Harry smiled. "Yes, she'll be here this afternoon. A witch I met when I arrived is bringing her up here. She's also the one that gave me a ride up here."

"Is she pretty?"

"What?" asked Harry.

"The witch, is she pretty?"

"I...I suppose so," he stammered, "I wasn't really paying attention. I was more worried about you."

"Oh, okay," she said, not looking at him.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing," she said. She looked at him and smiled weakly, "Really, there's nothing wrong. I'm starving, can we go eat?"

He smiled uncertainly, "Sure. You get changed in here, and I'll go start breakfast." He started out of the room and then stopped, “Oh, don’t go in the bathroom in the hallway, use the one in here.”

She grimaced. “Did I leave a mess last night? I kind of remember what happened… Oh, Harry, I’m so sorry!” She jumped off the bed and pulled him into a hug. “Thank you for stopping me from doing something really stupid!” Tears were running down her face.

She let go of him and stepped back, and then looked down at herself; at the bloodstains that decorated the clothes she’d been wearing the night before, and her face twisted in disgust. Without considering that he was still in the room with her, she ripped her shirt off over her head and threw it across the room. She hadn’t been wearing a bra under the shirt, and Harry swallowed and turned away from her, but not before he’d gotten a glimpse of her body. What he had seen horrified him. Hermione had never been anything but skinny to begin with, and now she had lost so much weight that she had wasted away to nothing. Her breasts were flat masses sitting above protruding ribs; she looked like a walking skeleton.

“I’ll…I’ll be in the kitchen,” he said.

“What’s the matter, Harry,” she asked in a hurt voice, “You don’t find me attractive? Unlike this nameless witch you mentioned?”

Where did that come from? He thought. Why is she bringing that up? And, hell yes, I find you attractive, Hermione! When you don’t look like you do now, anyway. He turned back to her, took her upper arms in his hands, and stared into her eyes, mostly so that he wouldn’t be staring at her wasted body.

“Hermione,” he said, “Let’s get a few things straight here. Amanda, the witch I mentioned to you, is nothing more than a very friendly person who gave me a ride up here and offered to help if I needed it. That’s all she is!”

He bit his lip, suddenly not sure what to say, “Hermione…I love you. But to see you this way…” He shook his head, “I…it breaks my heart, love. Why you had to go through this…” His eyes suddenly felt very wet, and he blinked furiously.

He let go of her arms, and stroked her face with one hand. “I love you, and only you. I knew it that day at Hogwarts when you begged Ron and me not to go out to face Voldemort, and I knew it when I regained my memories in Rome . That isn’t going to change,” he said softly. “But first, we’ve got to get you better.”

She burst into tears. “I am such a fool,” she sobbed. “I’m all funny inside, Harry. Nothing makes sense anymore. I can’t get past this feeling that I failed you and Ron somehow—that I wasn’t there when you needed me.”

“Hermione, that isn’t true!” said Harry earnestly. “You didn’t fail us. How could you think that?”

“If I’d been up front with you and Ron in the beginning, I wouldn’t have been hit by that rock. But I was scared, and I…I…” Tears were running freely down her face as she looked up at Harry with a look of utter despair that broke his heart.

He hugged her to him with all the strength in his arms, desperately trying to show her that everything was all right; that he was here and that he loved her. “’Mione,” he said softly, “Ron and I never thought that you failed us. I understand about being scared; I was so scared back then that I could barely think straight.” He squeezed her tight again. “And I’m scared right now,” he added softly.

She pulled away from him, various emotions crossing her face. “I’m doing it again, aren’t I?” she asked with a disgusted tone to her voice. “I’m failing you—hell, I’ve failed you for the past year by not being strong; by not getting through this.”

“Hermione! No!” he shouted. “You haven’t failed me! Bloody hell, Hermione, you haven’t failed anyone! It was just bad luck that rock landed on you, okay? It was nobody’s fault I wound up in a hospital not knowing who I was! And given what you thought at the time, I’m not so sure that I wouldn’t have done the same thing you did! I’m certainly the champion at feeling guilt for things I had no control over!” He stopped, breathing heavily, realizing that he had just shouted this entire speech not six inches from her face.

“’Mione,” he said gently, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to shout. It’s just that nothing I was saying seemed to get through.” He sighed. “I’m going to go cook now, okay? You’ll be all right?”

She nodded weakly, turned away, and went to pick through the laundry covering the floor for clothes. Harry watched her for a moment, and then turned and went out to the kitchen.

A few minutes later, as he was putting bacon in a pan on the stove, he heard the shower turn on in the bedroom, and he smiled to himself. It was almost a half-hour later, just as he was putting their breakfasts on the table that she came in, hair wrapped up in a towel, wearing a loose fitting light blue sweatshirt with a picture of some species of dragon that Harry didn’t recognize on it, and a matching pair of light blue sweatpants.

“Hey,” he said cheerily, “just in time!”

She smiled at him uncertainly, and then said quietly, “Thanks for being here, Harry.”

She looked down at the table, and the rather large meal that Harry had cooked. He’d conjured some of it; he wasn’t nearly as good as Molly Weasley, but he wasn’t bad either. There was bacon, scrambled eggs, toast, blueberry muffins, fresh fruit, cereal, milk, juice (both orange and pumpkin), and coffee.

“Harry, how are we going to eat all that? I don’t eat all that much; I just don’t seem to have much of an appetite anymore.” She looked down at the floor sadly.

He walked over to her and lifted her chin with his fingers. “’Mione, you want to get well, yes? Then you need to eat. This isn’t healthy.”

“Eating your cooking, you mean?” she quipped with a half-hearted smile.

He pulled out a chair for her at the table and seated her. “Now I want you to at least try to eat a little bit of everything here.” He seated himself next to her, and reached for the glass he had set out for her. “Would you like pumpkin or orange juice?”

“ Orange ,” she said.

He filled her glass with the orange juice, and then watched as she gingerly took a sip of the yellow liquid, and then nibbled at some bacon and toast. “Try some eggs,” he said, “I made them special.”

“How so?” she inquired.

“I conjured them!” he said.

She looked at him superciliously for a moment and then tried a forkful of the eggs. She spit them out again almost immediately with an expression of extreme disgust on her face. “Harry! Those are horrible! Yuck! They taste like sawdust mixed with engine oil.”

He tried them, and had to nod in agreement a moment later as he spit them out and then took a huge gulp of pumpkin juice to rinse the taste from his mouth. He looked at the plate of eggs for a moment and then began to laugh, “Oh, well, Mrs. Weasley I’m not.”

Hermione snickered, “No, you definitely aren’t.”

For a moment, they laughed together, and everything felt normal, like it had before the world had gone to hell. Except that Ron wasn’t there, and to Harry, that would never feel normal.

Harry looked at his watch, “Where did the day go? It’s almost twelve-thirty, and we haven’t even started on the cleaning.”

Hermione yawned and then looked embarrassed. “I’m sorry, Harry. I’m just so tired.”

He looked at her with concern. “Why don’t you go take a nap then? I can handle the cleaning.”

“Harry, it’s my mess. I should clean it up. It’s not fair to make you do it.”

Harry smiled. “I don’t mind. You were always cleaning up after my messes; it’s only fair I return the favor.”

“Harry, I…”

“Look,” he said, “the biggest help you can give me is to get well. If your body says you need sleep, then go get some sleep. I’ll wake you when Ginny gets here.”

She looked pensive for a moment. “Harry…”

“Go,” he said encouragingly, “I can handle this.”

She finally gave in. “Oh, all right. But you promise to wake me when Ginny gets here?”

“Yes, I will.”

She got up from the table and headed toward the back of the house. Harry poured himself a cup of coffee. At least she’d eaten something, he thought. She’s so bloody skinny! There’s nothing there! He took a gulp of coffee, his feelings as bleak as the coffee was bitter.

Once he was done with the coffee, he got up and went back to check on her before starting to clean. He found her curled up asleep on her bed, body shivering even in her sleep. He pulled the sheets and comforter up around her, and stroked her forehead gently until the shivering went away.

“I love you,” he whispered.

He went out to the kitchen, grabbed the trash can that he had bought, and dragged it out to the living room. He started tossing the empty whiskey bottles that littered the floor into the can, followed by the one sitting on the coffee table, and finally the contents of the ash tray. He opened the blinds and let the bright daylight into the dingy room, and then opened the window and the front door to let outside air refresh the stale contents of the house.

Hermione didn’t have a vacuum cleaner, so there was very little he could do about the dirty carpet. He dragged the trash can into the kitchen and proceeded to clean out the rest of the whiskey, dumping each bottle down the sink before tossing it in the can. By the time he was done, the can was full. He opened the kitchen window above the sink so that air would circulate through the house, and he hoped that wouldn’t make Hermione too cold. Not that it was cold outside; it was June in Florida after all, but she’d been shivering an awful lot, and Harry had read somewhere that people who’d lost as much weight as her had trouble staying warm.

He put the lid on the can, and dragged it outside just in time to see Amanda’s Mustang pull into the driveway. He looked at his watch and noted that it was three o’clock . Ginny’s head popped out the passenger side window and she waved at him. “Hi Harry!”

He smiled at her. “Hi, Ginny.”

Amanda brought the car to a halt, and opened the door. “I found her, Harry, although it was a bit of a challenge. Seems that convention I mentioned to you earlier was going back home, and the station was packed. Of course, that means you could come down and get a car now.”

Harry nodded. “Yeah. Maybe later. I’ve got my hands full right now.”

Amanda and Ginny got out of the car and went around to the trunk. Amanda pressed a button on her key ring and the trunk popped open. Ginny reached inside and pulled out a rather Mugglish looking suitcase. Amanda closed the trunk.

“How is she, Harry?” asked Ginny, looking serious. “Tonks told me a little bit about last night.”

“She’s sleeping right now,” he answered. “I got her to eat a little bit this morning, but she looks like she hasn’t eaten in weeks.”

“Oh, Harry,” said Ginny with a sad look.

“You’re probably going to be shocked when you see her, but try to stay cheerful, okay? She doesn’t think much of herself at the moment; she feels that she failed me and Ron somehow by having that rock land on her leg.” He shook his head. “It’s frustrating.”

“I’m going to go, Harry,” said Amanda. “I think y’all need some time alone with her before you go and introduce a stranger to her.”

“I can’t offer you something to drink, Amanda?” asked Harry.

“Nah. You’ve got my number. Give me a call when you need transportation out of here.”

“Thanks, Amanda, I appreciate all of your help.”

“De nada, Amigo. See ya.” She got back in the car and pulled out of the driveway, heading off down the road.

Harry looked at Ginny. “Well, let’s go inside and wake Hermione up.”

“Are you sure? If she needs her sleep, we can wait,” replied Ginny.

“She made me promise to get her up when you got here,” he answered. He looked at her seriously. “She’s been drinking and smoking pot, Ginny, and she looks terrible. I’m telling you this so you’ll be prepared when you see her; I got her to take a shower this morning, and she cleaned herself up fairly well, but…”

“Did you help her with the shower?” asked Ginny with a grin.

“No, I didn’t,” he said, irritated. “I don’t think either of us is ready for that kind of change in our relationship.”

Ginny frowned. “I’m sorry, Harry, I didn’t mean to…”

“It’s alright, Ginny,” said Harry with a smile, “I’m feeling a little out of sorts at the moment. Last night was a bit of a shocker, and I’m still trying to come to terms with it.” He gave her a hug. “I’m glad you’re here.”

He took the suitcase from her and led her into the house. She wrinkled her nose at the sour smell that still pervaded the air, even though Harry had opened the windows and the front door.

“Phew,” said Ginny.

“You should’ve smelled it last night,” said Harry, “It was even worse.” He put the suitcase down on the couch. “Shall we go get her up?”

“You don’t need to,” announced Hermione as she entered the room. “Ginny!” she said with a smile as she went to hug her friend. “Oh, God, Ginny, I missed you so!” Hermione started to cry. “I thought everybody was dead!”

Ginny was looking at Harry over Hermione’s shoulder and he could see her horror at Hermione’s condition written in her eyes. He knew that she was feeling the same bones and the same sense of fragility that he felt when he hugged Hermione. Finally, she stepped back.

“Hi, Hermione!” she said, with a forced smile.

“I look terrible don’t I?” asked Hermione with a sad smile. She shrugged, “It’s just another way I’ve failed to live up to what everybody expects.”

“Hermione!” said Ginny, “You haven’t failed anyone!”

“Excuse me if I don’t believe that! Your brother is dead because I failed to be there when he needed me!” snapped Hermione.

“My brother is dead because Voldemort’s Death Eaters killed him!” snapped Ginny. “You had nothing to do with it!”

“I could’ve done something!” answered Hermione. “I’m supposed to be the smartest witch of our generation. I could have figured out something to help him!”

“And you might not have,” answered Ginny. “It was absolutely insane. Spells flying everywhere; people dropping right and left; the bloody giants tossing rocks like they were quaffles…it was a bleeding madhouse out there.” She stopped suddenly, breathing heavily, overcome with her memories.

“Hermione…” said Harry gently, “No one blames you for what happened. No one. And especially not Ron, Ginny, or I.” He went to hug her and was amazed at her reaction.

“Don’t…don’t touch me!” snapped Hermione.

“Hermione?” asked Harry.

“You’re taking her side, aren’t you?” she asked with tears in her eyes. “Of course you would. I saw the way you hugged her…out there…in the driveway!” She glared at Ginny. “You’re in love with her, aren’t you?” She threw her hands up in disgust, and then ran out of the room, crying. A second later, they heard the bedroom door slam.

Harry stared at Ginny in amazement. “W…where did that come from?”

Ginny frowned. “I don’t know, Harry. I’ve never seen her this way.” She smiled briefly, “And it would be disappointing news to Neville that you and I are together.”

Harry smiled back, “Well, let’s not do anything that would upset Neville. He’s probably got plants that are a LOT worse than that Mimbulus Mimbletonia.”

Ginny giggled, remembering Harry covered in stinksap.

Harry flopped down on the couch, sighing. “What do you suggest we do now?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know.” She sat Indian style on the floor and opened her suitcase. She reached in and pulled out a book which she tossed to Harry. “Here’s that book that Tonks said you wanted.”

“Thanks,” answered Harry and looked at the book. It was rather garish for a wizarding text, and looked more like a Muggle self-help book. It was entitled “Magical Melancholy: Dealing with the Depressed Wizard or Witch” in bright yellow letters on a white background. The author was someone named Ami Blue.

He opened the front cover and looked at the table of contents. He was relieved to see that at least it appeared to deal sensibly with the subject matter. There were chapters dealing entitled “Recognizing Depression in Witches and Wizards” and “Dark Magic: Its Role in Depression.”

Interested, he flipped to that chapter and started reading. After a few moments, he looked up at Ginny. “Listen to this: “

He read, “‘Depression and suicidal thoughts in a witch or wizard present an additional hazard in that they can create a miasma of dark magic around the affected individual. The depressed person is not aware that they are utilizing dark magic, and due to the nature of such magic, it reinforces the person’s illness. It’s a common misconception that dark magic consists of the forbidden curses and the like; nothing could be farther from the truth. Intent counts for a great deal.’”

“That’s interesting,” said Ginny.

“She goes on to explain that most of the time the dark magic infects the place that the person is living, and that only by removing them from the environment will they have a chance of recovering.”

“Hermione is not ready to leave here yet,” replied Ginny.

“I know,” he replied with a sigh, closing the book. “I just don’t know how to help her, Ginny. I could handle Voldemort, and he was just as bad. But there, I had a target; something I could point my wand at and make go away. This is different.”

He got up from the couch, setting the book down on the coffee table as he did so. “Are you hungry? I am. In my quest to get Hermione to eat something this morning, I didn’t eat much myself.”

“Sure,” answered Ginny. “Can I help?”

“You pick up any of your mother’s cooking skills? I tried making eggs the way she does this morning and failed miserably—they tasted horrible.”

“I’ve learned one or two things,” she answered with a smile. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”

Together they trooped off to the kitchen to cook.