A/N: Moving is evil. Offices are evil. And allergies are most *definitely* evil. Grr. Argh. Today was our first day in the new office and I still haven't stopped sneezing from all the moving-box dust. I tried telling them that since I was clearly allergic to work that I should be allowed to go home, but I don't think they bought it. Ah well. I'll try again tomorrow. Thanks to all my lovely reviewers! I responded to several today but, obviously, still have quite a few to go. Thanks for your patience! As for this part… I honestly don't know if you all are going to lynch me after this, but I do have the sinking feeling that you won't be pleased. Just keep chanting to yourselves "happy ending, happy ending, happy ending." Yes, I know how the story ends. Yes, I know how I'll get it there from here. And yes, I'll be able to make it all happen by part 17 (assuming that none of what I have planned for parts 14, 16, or 17 takes more than one part each. Fifteen is already written). And now that I've terrified you all, on with the show!
Section 13:
Harry really did have the most appalling luck when it came to History of Magic exams. His fifth year was a particularly notable case when he had that horrifying vision of Sirius being tortured during his O.W.L. exam, leading to the disastrous battle in the Department of Mysteries. After that, he would have been quite content to avoid History of Magic altogether from that point on if it hadn't been for Hermione. Why she wanted to take the subject through to the N.E.W.T. level was beyond him, but she had been adamant about it, leading to a screaming row between her and Ron. Hermione had been in tears by the time Ron stormed out and Harry, never able to bear it when Hermione cried, had promised to take the class with her just to cheer her up.
To his surprise, the class wasn't really that bad in the two years that followed. Binns was still only slightly more engrossing than a flobberworm, and Harry was still more inclined than not to use the class time for a nice, long nap, but when he studied for the tests outside of class, he discovered that the material they covered was actually rather interesting. They had moved forward into more modern eras, and the accounts of the wizarding battles that had taken place within the past few generations.
He'd never forget the day in sixth year when Hermione slipped an open book in front of him while they studied, pointing out a particular passage to him. The passage described a battle against Milanther, a Dark Lord who preceded Grindelwald, and detailed the particularly noble conduct during the battle of a young Auror named Richard Harold Potter. A grinning Hermione told him that Richard had been his great-grandfather. Harry had never really thought to look up the Potter side of the family; his grandparents were dead and he didn't have any aunts or uncles so there didn't seem to be much point; but seeing the Potter name in a history book and knowing that, whether they were there or not, he was still part of a family that he could be proud of, gave him a feeling of satisfaction and happiness and… and *belonging* that was unlike anything he had ever felt before. He found he rather liked History of Magic after that.
That is to say, he liked it right up until he skidded into the room to take his N.E.W.T. level History of Magic exam, moments before they closed the door. Merlin knows, he hadn't *intended* to be late for the first of the exams that would, as Hermione had always told him, determine his career after Hogwarts. It had just… happened. Well, to be more accurate, Lavender had happened.
Lavender had pounced on him in the common room just before he headed down to dinner the night before, saying that she had something special planned for the two of them. She insisted that they needed a break from all the wedding planning and N.E.W.T. worries to just spend time together and had arranged the room into a perfect love-nest. She planned it all with exquisite care, from the three-course meal arranged picnic-style on a blanket spread over the carpet, to the slow dancing she'd insisted on afterwards to soft music from her wizard's wireless, (it was good practice for their wedding, she had said with a smile that was just a little too bright to be as cheerful as she tried to make it seem), to the new silk sheets on the bed and the satin-and-lace lingerie she slipped into that would have made a dead man sit up and take notice.
After they made love, Lavender curled in his arms and started talking about their honeymoon, and what it would be like when the N.E.W.T.s were over, the wedding had gone off without a hitch, and they were finally starting their lives together. They had decided on a tour through Europe for a month, giving Harry a chance to visit all the places he'd never seen. Lavender snuggled up against him and whispered sweet words about kissing at the top of the Eiffel Tower, dancing till dawn at a club in Barcelona, and cuddling while they watched the sunrise over Rome. It all sounded wonderful; ideal, even; and Harry wondered why he couldn't bring himself to feel more excited about it. His body was spent and relaxed from their earlier activities, the woman he loved was lying in his arms, and they were planning their wonderful future together, knowing that nothing stood in their way. So why did he feel so… incomplete?
Rather than try to figure it out, he had chosen instead to stop thinking entirely, pulling Lavender into another kiss. Surely her warmth and her love would satisfy him, like they always had before. He reached for her again and again, all night long, thinking every time that this would be the time that he recaptured that sense of ecstasy he was seeking. Every time fell short. He finally fell asleep from sheer exhaustion shortly after three in the morning… and continued to sleep until Parvati came banging on the door the next morning saying that she'd waited *more* than long enough to wake them, and didn't Harry have a N.E.W.T. that morning, anyway?
Jumping immediately out of bed, Harry had thrown on his clothes from the night before and bolted out of the room, thankful that quills were provided by the examiners, meaning that he didn't need to stop by his room. As it was, he barely made it to the exam room in time, flashing a grin at the examiner who gave him a disapproving look as he collapsed at a desk, working on re-catching his breath.
"The exam consists of three essay questions," a wizard with a nasal voice droned from the front of the room. "You will have two hours to answer them, and we suggest that you monitor your progress so as not to run out of time." The examiner continued on with something about an honor code while Harry settled himself in his seat and took a moment to glance around the room.
A subtle feeling of *wrongness* make him instantly uneasy long before he had a chance to figure out what, exactly, was wrong. A sinking feeling of dread followed after that as his eyes slowly scanned over the room and his mind processed what a part of him had already instinctively known.
Hermione wasn't there.
"-and should you have any trouble with your quills, please raise your hand and one of the examiners will come to assist you," the wizard concluded. "Are there any questions?"
Harry's hand shot up.
"Yes, Mr. Potter?"
"Where's Hermione?" he blurted out.
"Hermione?" the wizard repeated.
"Hermione Granger," Harry explained, feeling his uneasiness grow with every second that passed. "She's in this class, too. Do you know where she is?"
"Professor Dumbledore has informed us that Miss Granger will not be taking the N.E.W.T. at this location," the wizard replied dismissively.
"But that can't be right-" Harry tried to argue.
"I'm afraid if you'll have to address that question to Professor Dumbledore," the wizard interrupted. "*After* the examination. If there are no further questions?" No one else raised their hand, and soon the examination scrolls and quills were distributed, and the only sound in the room was the scratching of quill against parchment.
Harry mechanically worked his way through exam in a daze. Although it would later be found that he had scored very high, he would never be able to call to memory the questions that had been asked, much less the answers he had given. All he could think of was Hermione.
He was the first one to turn in his scroll and exit the examination room. The auto-pilot that had gotten him through the exam faded, and the look on his face was pure determination as he headed toward Dumbledore's office, determined to get to the bottom of what was going on. For the moment, luck was with him. He ran into Dumbledore in the corridor outside the headmaster's office.
"Professor Dumbledore!" Harry called out, catching the wizard's attention. "I need to speak to you, sir!"
"Harry!" a voice called from the other end of the corridor. Harry recognized Ron's voice, but didn't turn. Finding out about Hermione took priority at the moment. Ron could wait.
"It's about Hermione, sir," Harry continued, cut off before he could finish by Ron's voice.
"Harry, didn't you hear me calling you?"
"Not *now*, Ron," Harry hissed at his best friend before turning back to Dumbledore. "Like I said, sir, it's Hermione. She's gone, and I don't-"
"That's what I've been trying to telling you!" Ron interjected. Harry's eyes sparked dangerously as he turned on his friend, ready to tell him off for interrupting him yet again. In response, Ron pulled out an envelope in front of him, like a shield.
It worked, oddly enough. Harry froze at the sight of that envelope, with his name on it… in Hermione's handwriting. Forgetting that he had stopped mid-sentence, he grabbed the envelope and tore it open it, tugging out the neatly folded piece of parchment it held and reading quickly over the contents.
Dear Harry,
As much as I hate clichés, this is the only way I can think of to say it: by the time you read this letter, I'll be gone. Far gone, as a matter of fact, and I won't be coming back for quite some time. I'm sorry to drop this news on you with such short notice, but I just heard today. I got accepted into the Bankhead program early admission, and they're willing to let me start immediately. They enclosed a portkey; I leave tonight. It's a three year program and I very much doubt I'll be coming home again until it's over. Please be happy for me Harry; this is what I've always wanted.
I hadn't intended to say goodbye through a letter, but perhaps it's best this way. There isn't really much we could have said to each other. Don't blame yourself; you didn't drive me away. The Bankhead program is the opportunity of a lifetime, and I really am very happy about it. If anything, all you affected was my decision to apply early admission. Yes, I will be missing your wedding. Yes, this choice was deliberate. I wish I could say that I'm sorry that I won't be there for your wedding, but that would be a lie. I *am* sorry if the fact that I can't be there hurts you. Please understand, I'm doing this for both of us. My feelings for you haven't changed and it would just be too hard for me to stand there beside you while you marry someone else. You shouldn't have to deal with that on your wedding day.
I'll always be your friend, Harry. Nothing can change that. But I can't be a very good friend to you until I sort through my feelings. It wouldn't be fair to you, it wouldn't be fair to Lavender, and most of all, it wouldn't be fair to me. I'll never be able to find happiness if I don't learn how to let go of my feelings for you. I know it'll take some time, but I promise you that I will work through this. When I do, I'll come back to England, and we'll be able to start with a fresh beginning and nothing in our way. I look forward to that day, Harry. But until that day comes, I must ask that you respect my wishes for you to keep your distance.
Be safe. Be happy. Try not to be too angry with me.
All my love,
Hermione
"What… when…" Harry stammered, dazedly, rocking slightly on his feet as if he had suddenly lost his sense of equilibrium.
"She came by last night to say goodbye," Ron explained. "When I told her you…" Ron cleared his throat, "…weren't there, she sat down and wrote this for you. I was going to give it to you this morning, but you didn't come by the room before going to your exam."
"I don't understand," Harry replied numbly. "What's the Bankhead program?"
"Bankhead is a very prestigious school to train healers, Harry," Dumbledore explained. "It is indeed an honor to be accepted. You should be very proud of Miss Granger."
"But she… she hasn't finished here," Harry protested weakly. "How could she start a program without even taking her N.E.W.T.s?"
"She'll take them there," Ron interrupted. "That's what the early decision means. Bill did the same thing when he signed on with Gringotts."
"But she's…" Harry tried, and failed, to keep his voice from cracking. "She's supposed to be here. She's… we haven't made things right between us yet and I was… was supposed to have *time* and now… She *can't* have left," Harry insisted pleading, looking to Dumbledore. "Can she?"
"I'm afraid she can, Harry," Dumbledore replied sadly. "And I'm afraid she has. She's gone."