Fate, My Friend, You Say the Strangest Things

"Daddy, may I ask you something?"

Harry looked down at his son, who was on the floor by his feet, reading a book. Well, he was more studying the pictures of wand movement. Harry sat up from his slumped form on the couch.

"Sure, son."

"Why did you leave Mummy? Did you know I was going to be born?"

Harry nodded. "I suppose your mummy hasn't explained all of that, huh?"

Jamie shook his head. "Can you tell me?"

Harry picked the boy up, and he sat him down beside him. "Of course I will."

***

Harry looked around the ruins of Malfoy Manor. Five months of training in Greece had brought him to this point. He was ready to face Voldemort, one on one, but that wasn't what Voldemort had in mind. Harry fought his way through different jinxes and hexes, and he battled his share of Death Eaters, Bellatrix Lestrange being one. He felt more powerful after he defeated her, avenging Sirius's death.

Now, here he stood, just moments after defeating Voldemort, broken, beaten, battered, but he felt perfect. It was over! It was all finally over! He could go back to London, meet Ron and Hermione at King's Cross Station, and marry Hermione. Everything would go right on track, but they couldn't.

"Dumbledore, what do you mean I can't go back to London?" Harry demanded. "I have to go home to Hermione and Ron!"

Dumbledore sat peacefully behind his desk, as Harry leaned on it with his fists. "The Death Eaters are still among us, Harry. Not to mention to amount of press you will receive. You're to be sent to America, staying for a few months in various cities, until this all dies down."

"What about Hermione? Ron? The Weasleys?"

"They will be safe. We have our top Aurors tracking them, keeping watch, without their knowing. Don't worry, Harry, I assure you they will be fine."

Harry stood straight and paced around the room. "I can't leave. I just can't."

"I know, Harry, but it is for the best."

"Will Ron and Hermione know where I'll be?"

Dumbledore looked down, a trace of sadness on his face. "No. Your whereabouts must be confidential. I'm sorry."

Harry went up to his empty dorm (it was the end of June, so all of the students have left already), and he packed what he had in his trunk. He would be traveling to America the Muggle way- by plane.

***

Harry hadn't lied when he told Hermione he had seen everything in America. He saw the tall buildings of New York; he went to Mardi Gras in New Orleans (but didn't party too hard); he saw the Johnson Space Center in Houston; he went to the Hollywood hills; he even saw gators in Tampa. He was seeing it all, living a peaceful life, but something was missing.

No.

Someone.

Hermione.

Hermione never left his mind. Everywhere he went, he heard her voice in his head, questioning everything in pure curiosity. He compared every woman he had seen or met to her, and none of them were Hermione quality.

He longed for her, wishing he could write to her, but he couldn't. No one was supposed to know where he was. He had to use fake names and aliases wherever he went so that wizards wouldn't catch on. He grew out his hair just long enough to cover his scar, ears, and part of his neck. He got a tan during his stay in the south. He started dressing more and more in Muggle clothes, and he copied a lot of the stylings from the lead singer of some Muggle band called "Incubus", or something. Now that he thought about it, his hair looked sort of similar the singer, Brandon something or another.

The night Harry remembered most is when he got an owl from Dumbledore. It was during his stay in Atlanta, August sixth, 2001, when the owl came. Harry opened the note, and it said for him to come home. All was clear, and he could come back to London.

Harry packed his things, and he took the first flight out of Hartsfield to London. He took a room at the Leaky Cauldron, and he decided to visit around Diagon Alley. No one recognized him, which he did not mind at all. He looked at the new broom models coming out at Quality Quidditch Supplies, and he was tempted to go in Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes but decided against it. Instead, he went in Gambol and Japes. On his way out, he thought he saw a flash of bushy, brown hair, but no, it hadn't been her. This woman had a small boy with her.

Harry walked around Muggle London, and he decided to look Hermione up. He found a phone book, and he wrote down her address. Calling her wouldn't have been enough. He needed to see her. He needed to hold her, talk to her.

He was in his room at the Leaky Cauldron, watching the storm build outside. It had been a day or two since he had been the woman with the same hair as Hermione's. He started questioning whether or not it was her, but it couldn't have been. The woman had a boy with her. Hermione couldn't have children now, could she? She hadn't married another man, had she? He had only been gone three years...

He made up his mind. He would go see her. So he put on his shoes, and he trudged through the storm to her flat in Muggle London.

***

"And that's pretty much the story."

Jamie looked up at Harry. "Mummy never talked about you to me."

Harry looked back at him. "I didn't expect her to." Harry got an idea on how to even more bond with his son. "Jamie, you have heard of Quidditch before, haven't you?"

"Yes."

"Would you like to give it a go?"

Jamie rubbed his chin. "I suppose just trying it out couldn't hurt. Can we try Seeking? It seems like the most fun."

Harry ruffled the boy's hair. "That's m'boy."