The Girl in the Picture

Author’s Note/Disclaimer: I don’t own any of these characters… Someone more brilliant than I created them and I’m merely playing. This particular fic is in response to a challenge in the forums by HermionesAlterEgo – I’ve not managed to get myself a forums account yet and couldn’t post to say I’d taken it up. Here’s to my second ever post on Portkey!

Harry sat glumly at the kitchen table across from Ron and Neville, picking at the eggs Ron had fried for breakfast.

“Don’t tell me you suddenly don’t like scrambled eggs!”

“Ron, we’ve been eating scrambled eggs for breakfast for months!” Harry replied, and gave the fluffy yellow stack a vindictive stab with his fork. “Couldn’t you practice cooking something else now?”

Run looked hurt. “Luna likes scrambled eggs! I want to impress her with perfect scrambled eggs on our honeymoon! I only have two weeks left before the wedding!”

“You make fine scrambled eggs, Ron,” Neville said absently between bites while he read the paper. He clearly did not want in on the pending squabble between Ron and Harry. “Besides, I can understand wanting to practice. Padma and I are getting married in six months and if I could cook without destroying anything, I’d want to practice too.”

“Married, married, married! Everybody’s getting married! And your mum asked me just yesterday if I was going to get to that! I don’t want to talk about it – eggs or marriage. I’m going out!” He got up from the table and stalked toward the front door.

“Oy, Harry! If you happen by the store, we need some more soap!”

“Yeah, yeah.” The front door slammed and there was silence at the table.

“Now what would you suppose that was about?” Ron asked.

“I would imagine that he’s feeling glum about Hermione and the rest of us are all getting married and having babies.” Neville sipped at his tea. “After all, Harry said last night in passing that today would it would 29 months since Hermione left.”

Ron sighed, but then he frowned. “She didn’t leave – he pushed her away. Said that she would be happier and better off away from him. He was having post-Voldemort depression and drove her away. I guess Riddle kind of won in a way – he took the one thing away Harry really couldn’t live without. Harry made him dead alright, but I think Riddle had a victory of his own. Anyway, I haven’t heard from her in a year or so; last I knew she’d gone to America.”

Neville stood up and put his dishes in the sink. “It sounds like a great part Harry’s fault. And here I felt sorry for him.” He took off for his room in the three bedroom flat they shared in a tiny wizarding district surrounded by Muggle London. Ron was left with the dishes again, but it wasn’t so bad. He pointed his wand to the sink and said “Cleanserio!” and the dirty dishes washed themselves.

Meanwhile, Harry was fuming. He stormed down the sidewalk, hands shoved into his denim jacket pockets and balled into fists. Damn their happiness! No, he rebutted himself. He knew he really didn’t feel that way; he was really proud of his friends. But he was jealous and today he was ready for everybody else to be as grouchy as he. He’d mentioned it briefly last night, but it had been on his mind for weeks. Today was the day that marked the 29^th month Hermione had been gone from him.

Of course now he knew it had been his own damned fault, but he wasn’t ready to admit that. He kicked at the blossoms on the ground, generally irritated with himself and life right about now. A star seeker on the national team, a successful business man, Harry was quite comfortable in most aspects with life. He enjoyed living with his best mates Ron and Neville, but once in a while, he had days where all he could think about was her. What he could have had, what he foolishly tossed away… A magnolia flower was on the ground in front of him and he gave it an extra hard kick. The fact that both Ron and Neville were going to be married quite soon also made him more than a little cantankerous.

He found himself in a business district and thought he ought to pick up some soap – hadn’t Ron ordered some as he was storming out the door? Harry wandered from aisle to aisle searching for bath soap, but all he could seem to find in the personal hygiene section of the store were cosmetics. Make-up everywhere. He stopped and stared at the shelves and racks of cosmetic goods and wondered how women survived in the world with all the stuff they were supposed to put on their faces. When he turned to go, an image on one of those racks caught his eye and he nearly fell over himself in astonishment.

“Hermione?” His dazed voice echoed down the empty aisle. The woman in the poster had wide almond pale brown eyes and dark feathery lashes, soft wavy chestnut hair cascading behind her and the perfect lips he remembered kissing so well. Her perfect alabaster skin was glowing in the light. It was obviously a makeup ad, but the beautiful young woman with the half lidded eyes and seductive smile was definitely none other than Hermione Granger.