A/N: Finally, algebra is over and I can resume my life! The past few weeks have been so crazy. Many of you know me well enough by now to know how much I enjoy replying to your reviews. I haven't even had time for that, and it's really starting to bother me. I'm back though. Expect to hear from me soon. I've missed that rapport.
Thanks for reading and I greatly appreciate those of you who've taken the time to review. I really hope to hear from many more of you as the story progresses.
One more thing and then on to the story…if you have questions about the story, or thoughts about things you think might happen (or even things you might like to see happen), please feel free to share. I've found that reader's comments can make a huge difference in the direction a story can take. A lot of good comes from reviewer's comments. Nothing is ever written in stone for me. In fact, most of the time I don't even know what's going to happen until I finish typing (yes, I said that on purpose…when I finish writing it). I love to hear your ideas, so please share.
Now, on to the story….
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Promises
Harry hung up the phone and stared blankly at it for a few moments. He'd thought that talking to Hermione would ease the ache he'd begun to feel in his chest. If anything, it now seemed to ache more. He'd never thought it possible to miss someone so much. In that moment, he wasn't quite as confident that he'd last six months without seeing her and Ron. He knew it would prove to be his greatest challenge.
Reluctantly, he gave up the comfort of the chair to return the phone to its rightful place on the wall. Exhaustion was settling in more rapidly now that his call had been made. He placed his hand on the counter to steady himself as a wave of dizziness rushed through him when he turned around too quickly. His hand grazed the paper he'd written on earlier, and he was immediately drawn back to it. He smiled fondly as he recalled the sound of Hermione's laughter. "Of course it would be her," he said assuredly. "I was too busy training for the bloody war to spend time with, or to even think about, anyone else. Hermione's always been there. It's only natural I'd miss her most of all right now."
He turned down the lights and stood once more by the glass door, looking out into the clear, moonlit night. He
quickly grabbed the piece of paper, turned the lights to a dim glow, and wrote...
The sky looks so different without the lights of the city and the shadows that have always loomed above me…
Who knew it could hold so many stars?
Harry put down the paper and pencil and walked to the sink for a glass of water. As he held the glass, he looked around. An overwhelming feeling of joy spread through him as he turned in one slow circle, taking in the entirety of his surroundings. This was his. For the next six months he had the freedom to come and go as he pleased. There was no one to report to, no one to question him or to tell him what to do. For six months, he was free. He took one last look at the grocery bags that still littered the floor and he laughed out loud. He may have been harboring a growing ache from missing his loved ones, but in that moment, that infinitesimal space of time, nothing could surpass the elation that accompanied the sense of freedom he felt for the first time in his life.
Harry set his glass of water on the counter so he could walk throughout the house, checking that all the doors and windows were shut and locked up tight. When there was nothing left to do but to make his way to bed, he picked up his glass, turned down the lights, and walked toward his room.
It had been sheer determination mixed with a healthy dose of excitement that had kept him awake this long. His body had long since given up and seemed to fight against his efforts to walk and his brain was fast approaching shutdown. He walked to the window and opened it a few inches, the cool ocean breeze enveloping him instantly. He closed his eyes and shivered at its assault. He breathed deeply of the night air, forcing the fog to momentarily lift from his sleep-deprived brain.
He placed his glass of water on the bedside table and went to the dresser to retrieve his wand from where he'd hidden it in the second to last drawer. He pulled it out and, as a safety precaution, placed a quick spell on the window that would prevent anyone from finding their way in. The threat might be drastically diminished, and he might be thousands of miles from the site of the final battle, but he wasn't naïve enough to believe he couldn't be found. A part of him was sure that there were still people out there who wouldn't mind making an unexpected visit on an unsuspecting wizard…it was far better to be overly cautious then it was to be sorry. When he finished, he set his wand at the back of the night table, clicked on the lamp, and went to turn out the bedroom light.
He was alone and too exhausted for nightly rituals so he pulled off his shirt, removed his socks, and crawled between the sheets wearing the same shorts he'd worn on his trip to the store with Tanya. He looked to his left, to the far side table and gazed at the pictures sitting there. He reached for the one of him, Hermione, and Ron and stared at it for a moment, smiling once again at the memory. "Goodnight, Hermione," he whispered softly as he placed it gently back down on the table.
He took off his glasses, laid them beside his wand, and then reached over to turn off the lamp. Within minutes the sounds of the ocean and the whisper of the breeze through the open window lulled him into a deep, welcoming sleep.
Thousands of miles away Hermione sat on her bed, holding a similar picture, thinking about her best friend, alone and so far away. "Goodnight, Harry," she whispered, hoping that somehow he might know that she was thinking of him.
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Harry was walking east along the beach, into the rising sun. The birds were awakening, their morning songs mingling with the low, rumbling sounds of the ocean. His footsteps seemed to follow the path of the water as he walked along the edge of the lighter sand, as if he was tracing the border where the tide had turned it a darker shade.
The houses that stood in a row alongside his had vanished. All around him, for as far as the eye could see, lay an endless expanse of beach and ocean waters.
Before him the world was awakening with the first light of morning, as the sun made its ascent into the hazy morning sky. Behind him lay the last remaining vestiges of the night, awakening slowly as the sun stretched and shared its light at its own leisurely pace.
Harry stopped walking and turned in a slow circle, looking around him. "This is as it should be," he thought. "No obstructions, nothing to block my view...no distractions. Only this vast openness that I see right now."
"This is my playground," he shouted, laughing like the child he longed to be…even if only for a little while. His laughter seemed to echo around him although he knew that wasn't possible with nothing there to reflect the sound.
"All I need now is Buckbeak," he said, closing his eyes and making the wish. He opened his eyes and scanned the sky. He heard the familiar cry from the direction of the rising sun. "Buckbeak!" he shouted. Harry waved his arms and the Hippogriff touched down moments later. Harry bowed and Buckbeak eyed him cautiously for a moment before he too bowed. Harry walked slowly forward and began to stroke the top of his head.
"Hello, boy," Harry said softly. "Care to give an old friend a ride?"
Buckbeak nudged Harry's hand and bent forward allowing Harry to climb onto his back. "Thanks, friend," Harry said, once again stroking Buckbeak's head. "Ready when you are." Buckbeak stood up, took a running start, and soared into the air. Harry felt an exhilarating sense of freedom as he rose higher and higher into the sky. Buckbeak turned and took Harry in the direction of the rising sun; their silhouette rising like a plane above the water.
Harry rode in silence, letting the wind blow through his hair and sting his eyes. He was reminded of his first flight as Buckbeak flew lower and his hooves skimmed the top of the water. He raised his arms and let the feelings carry him back in time. A lot of good things had come out of Harry's third year and he welcomed the memories as they played through his mind.
Buckbeak rose once again and Harry looked down at the vast expanse of the ocean. He gazed in wonder at the rocks and thought about how their shapes were constantly being formed by the pounding waves. The way they stubbornly held their ground against the forces of nature amazed him. He knew how hard it was to stand against forces intent on bringing you down, trying to mold you and bend you to their will. Harry chuckled at the thought of how easily he could sympathize with a rock.
Buckbeak touched down on the beach a few minutes later and Harry realized that he was no longer alone. Ahead of him a young couple appeared, accompanied by an overly-excited dog. The young man threw what Harry assumed to be a stick and the dog happily chased after it. The young woman laughed as the dog returned and dropped it at the feet of the man.
"I don't know about you two," she said, shaking her head affectionately. The young man pulled her toward him and gave her a lingering kiss. A minute later the dog, appearing impatient, rose up on his hind legs and pushed against the man's waist, barking twice as he successfully separated the couple.
"Throw your own stick, Padfoot, I'm busy right now," the man said laughing, a sly grin on his handsome face as he looked back at the woman.
"Yes, Sirius," the woman said through her own laughter, "James is busy now." She stepped forward and pulled James into another kiss.
Harry stood back in awe as he watched his parents kiss while Sirius played tag with the waves. He didn't approach them for fear they would vanish, for the moment he was content to stand back and watch.
A series of shouts caught him from behind and he whipped around. Running in and out of the waves were Ron, Fred, George, and Ginny, all of them laughing and have a playing excitedly. Molly and Arthur walked hand-in-hand nearby, talking quietly to each other, casting occasional glances at their children.
All around him Harry began to see more and more of the people he cared for appearing from out of nowhere. All of them laughing, no trace of pain or fear evident anywhere. Harry turned in slow circles, savoring the sights and sounds around him.
Buckbeak and Hedwig were circling each other in the sky. Hagrid and Olympe were talking jovially with Dumbledore, McGonagall and, to Harry's surprise, Severus Snape, their laughter loud and carefree. Seamus and Dean were talking animatedly to Lavender, Parvati, and Padma, Seamus' hands flying wildly through the air as he talked and they all began to laugh. Neville appeared next to Ginny and she stopped was she was doing to lace her arm through his and smile up at him affectionately. "They'll be good for each other," Harry thought. "Neville's been in love with her for ages."
"Ronald," a dreamy voice called from somewhere behind him. Harry turned around just in time to see Luna running toward Ron who pulled her into a hug and spun her around in circles before carefully setting her back down.
Harry's heart had never felt lighter. It was the first time he'd ever seen them all without fear and anxiety tainting their laughter and casting shadows on their faces. For the first time ever, it felt as though everything was truly right with the world. He looked around and was struck by the thought that there was absolutely nothing that could make the moment any better. Seeing all of his loved ones happy and in one place, was more than he'd ever imagined possible. He flopped to the ground and leaned back on his arms, his legs stretched out before him. He sighed contentedly as he watched them play.
"Forgetting someone?" he heard from somewhere behind him.
"I don't think so," he replied happily, "this is perfect."
"I see," the voice said sadly.
Harry's heart seemed to stop the moment he heard the words. He whipped around, the figure before him was silhouetted against the sun, preventing him from making out any of the features. He began to feel unnerved.
"What? What do you see?" he asked, suddenly feeling very anxious.
"I see you haven't found me yet," the voice replied. "I see that you don't yet realize that I'm missing. Find me, Harry. Find me before its too late."
A fierce wind began to blow around him. He looked around and discovered that he was once again alone. The houses had reappeared, although they were now cast in shadow as the sky darkened and the storm began to rage. The waves crashed louder against the rocks and the tide rose drastically, nearly reaching his feet. Large drops of rain pelted against the ground, leaving pock marks in the sand.
He felt, more than saw, the hand of the mysterious figure extend toward him. He reached out for it and it vanished, carried away by the force of the wind. "Find me, Harry," the voice shouted above the storm. "Find me."
Harry jerked his head up. The clouds had settled in, darkening the newly awakened sky. Although he could not feel the rain beating against his skin, he could see it and it showed no signs of slowing.
He jumped up, prepared to make a run for the shelter of his home. Something was holding him back and he fought against it. "Let me go. I have to find her," he shouted, struggling to release the grip of the bindings which held him firmly in place. "Let go." He thrashed his arms about, hoping to make contact with whatever was holding him back…hoping to break free.
The sound of something crashing against the floor awoke him with a start. He sat up looked around the room, forgetting for a moment where he was. It took a couple of minutes to get his bearings and for his breathing to resume its normal cadence. The glass of water he'd placed on his bedside table now lay shattered on the floor beside his bed. He made a quick mental note to use plastic next time, and he laid back, trying desperately to remember what it was that had gotten him so worked up.
He reached over to the table and felt around for his glasses. When his fingers wrapped around them, he put them on and then reached for his wand. One quick wave and the broken glass was cleaned up instantly…the repaired glass, now empty, sitting once again in its place on the bedside table. He set the wand back down and stretched, catching a glimpse of the clock on the table beside the pictures. It was 9:00, far too late to catch the sunrise, so he decided there was no reason to rush out of bed.
He lay there quietly, trying to clear his mind of the shadows his dream had left behind. For the first time that morning, he heard the sound of the rain as it beat against the roof and the side of the house. The unsettled feeling lingered and he felt, somehow, as though something inside of him had broken. He stood up and walked to the window, looking out into the darkened sky. A strange thought, almost poetic in nature, occurred to him…
It's a gloriously gloomy day today. It suits my pensive mood perfectly. I wonder sometimes if my mood influences the weather or if it influences me. We seem to be so in tune with each other.
Reflecting on that Harry realized clearly, for the first time, that there did appear to be a direct correlation between one's mood and the weather. He knew, logically, that there was no way his mood could influence the weather, but he and Mother Nature did seem to be in tune with each other on an above average basis.
Harry sighed and shook all the thoughts from his head, then went into the bathroom for his regular morning ritual. After his shower he wrapped the towel around his waist and, in a moment of spite, walked out of his room and into the kitchen. He set to brewing half a pot of coffee. He grabbed a croissant, threw on a piece of ham from the refrigerator, and walked to the sliding glass door. He realized, in that moment, that the glass door had quickly become his favorite part of the house. Looking through it, he was reminded time and time again of his freedom. He couldn't count the number of times he'd been reprimanded for looking in or out of a window when he lived on Privet Drive. Now, not only could he do it every time the mood struck, but he could do it as he was right now…wearing nothing but a bath towel. "If only you could see me now, Aunt Petunia," he said with a laugh.
The thought of his aunt made him turn his attention immediately to the grocery bags he'd neglected to unpack and put away the night before. He wanted to laugh but that part of him that had been so ingrained with the Dursley's perverse sense of cleanliness found that the mess was no longer funny…it was annoying. Finishing his croissant, he cast the bags a derisive look and stalked off down the hall to get dressed so he could put them away and clean the house.
What he thought might waste at least an hour of his morning, ended up taking less than thirty minutes. He'd put the groceries away, washed the few dishes he'd left in the sink, sought out the perfect place for his art supplies, called the number Tanya had given him for the electric company, and drank two cups of coffee in the interim. And still, he had a full day ahead of him. He wasn't so much worried about being bored as he was worried about feeling stifled. He needed to stretch…body and mind.
"What am I going to do today?" he said with a sigh, glancing irreverently out at the rain as it fell in sheets outside his window.
A niggling sensation began at the back of his head and he got a strong feeling that there was something that he `needed' to do. He flopped down into the armchair he'd been sitting in while talking to Hermione the night before, and tried desperately to discover the source of his sudden uneasiness. He looked down at his hands and noticed for the first time, that he still held tight to the phone. He'd neglected to hang it up after talking with the electric company a few minutes prior.
HERMIONE
Her name flashed before his eyes and an anxious feeling swept through him. He had a sudden, uncontrollable urge to call her. He dialed her number and waited impatiently for her to answer. "Come on," he mumbled, "pick up the phone."
On the fifth ring, it was finally answered, "Hello?"
"Hermione, this is Harry, what's wrong?" The words flew unexpectedly from his mouth before he'd even thought what to say, or really listened to the voice that answered. He could only hope it was Hermione on the other end.
"Nothing's wrong, Harry," she replied. "But I'm so glad you called. I've been trying to focus my concentration on sending you messages for the past ten minutes or so. I must say, your timing is impeccable," she said with a chuckle. "Hi, by the way. How are you?" she added quickly.
Harry laughed with her, relieved to discover there was nothing wrong. "Hi. I'm good, thanks. I must've felt you or something," he said incredulously, "it was about ten minutes ago that I got a strong feeling that there was something I needed to do. Then, I got this sudden urge to call you. Not that I don't want to talk to you, but seeing as how we just talked a few hours ago, calling you wasn't something I expected to do this morning. Besides that," he added, "if you wanted to talk, why didn't you just call me? Why were you trying to send me telepathic messages?" He could picture Hermione sitting there, her eyes closed, fingers on her temples, chanting, "Call me, Harry, call me," over and over and over again. The thought made him laugh harder.
"…have your number."
"Excuse me?" Harry said, feeling embarrassed by his wondering thoughts.
"I said…I don't have your number. You never gave it to me yesterday. Your address either, for that matter. I couldn't have called you if I wanted to."
"You're not serious?" he said, bursting out laughing. "Well, that information would've been quite handy when you brought Ron over to call me now, wouldn't it?" Harry made a move to rise to get his phone number when her voice stopped him cold and he fell back against the chair.
"Speaking of that," she said softly, "I wanted to apologize to you. I shouldn't have said what I did about your giving up your right to feel anything where Ron and I are concerned. I can understand why you'd be jealous. Not that you have a real reason to be because nothing's ever happened between me and Ron," she rambled off quickly. Harry remained silent, knowing somehow that she wasn't quite finished. "And, Harry…" she said, so softly that he had to struggle to hear her.
"Yes?"
"I really do understand why you left. I think it was a smart decision on your part, honestly. Even if it wasn't to find a creative outlet, or your inner child- leaving for a while was the right decision. I guess…" she paused and Harry listened as she took a deep breath.
"Yes?"
Hermione sighed. "I guess I just…I just wish I could've gone with you, you know? We've shared so much of each other over the past seven years that I…I guess I just find it hard to accept that it was so easy for you to leave me…"
"Hermione, I…"
"I'm sorry, Harry," she said abruptly. "Damn it. I know you don't need that right now. The important thing is that you know that I understand why you left. And I do, Harry. I really do."
Harry sat in stunned silence, his mind unable to form any remotely intelligent thought. "Thank you," he mumbled, those words the only ones seemingly able to make it past his frozen mind.
"Promise me something?" she asked, her voice hesitant.
"I'll try," he replied warily.
"Promise me you'll find me first. When this is over and you come back home, I mean. Can you promise that you'll find me first?" she pleaded in a small voice.
Harry closed his eyes and sighed. "I promise you, Hermione. I will find you," he replied. "I'll find you first."
He heard her sigh of relief across the line and he squeezed his eyes shut tighter and pinched the bridge of his nose. Merlin, this is never easy, is it? He thought.
Hermione sniffled softly and cleared her throat before she spoke again. "I got you something today," she said, trying to lighten both her voice and the conversation.
"Really? What is it?" he asked, unable to keep the excitement from his voice. He'd gone for so many years without receiving any gifts that the thought of getting one always made him feel like a kid at Christmas.
"You know, I love the way you always look like a kid at Christmas when someone gives you a gift," she said laughing. "I can just picture you right now with your wide, gleaming eyes, and that grin spread across your face."
"Yeah, it's there," he said laughing. "You know me entirely too well. Gonna tell me what it is?"
"Nope," she teased. "Not gonna tell you. You're just going to have to tell me your address so I can send it, if you want to know what it is."
Harry stopped laughing, the gleam vanished from his eyes in an instant as he thought about what she was asking him for. "Hermione," he said softly, "promise me something this time?"
Hermione felt a moment of anxiety at the sudden change in his voice. "What is it, Harry?"
"I think I already know what you're going to say. And please, don't think this request means I don't trust you. But I have to say it, Hermione…."
"What is it, Harry?" she asked again. She had a feeling she already knew the nature of his request…and she readied herself.
"I'll give you my address, my exact whereabouts…but you have to promise me one thing," he said, his voice soft yet firm.
"Mm-hmm."
"You have to promise me that you won't come looking for me. Please, Hermione…promise me."
Hermione took a deep breath and sighed. "I promise I won't come looking for you, Harry," she said quietly. "I respect and care about you too much to do that. You need this time. And no matter how much I might want to…I'd never do that to you."
Harry rose from his chair and walked over to the counter to look at the papers lying there. He read her the address and phone number, not mentioning the promise again. He knew he could trust her, and he'd already known what she was going to say…all she did was confirm it for him.
"Thank you," she said quietly when he finished, "for the information. And, most of all, for still trusting me."
"I'll always trust you, Hermione. I trust you with my life. With all that I have and all that I am, don't ever doubt that. There's no one in this world that I trust more. To be honest, that even includes Ron. I trust him with…" Harry paused, thinking. "…nearly everything."
"Can I ask what you don't trust him with?" she asked curiously.
Harry thought about it for a moment, debating whether or not he should tell her. He did trust Ron with his life and with all that he had. There was really only one thing he could think of that, for reasons he didn't understand, he didn't trust Ron with completely. "Well," he said carefully, "there's really only one thing. Maybe we can blame it on the distance or something, I don't really know…"
Her curiosity piqued, Hermione quietly asked the question that would change her life forever. "What is it, Harry?"
"You," he replied softly, earnestly. "I don't trust him with you."
"I see," she whispered, stunned.
"Do you?" he asked quietly. "Because you know, I don't. I don't `see' at all. I know that Ron would never hurt you. I know that he's with Luna. And I know you can hold your own in any argument with him. You're a thousand times better with a wand, but still…" Harry paused and took a deep breath. "I need to know, Hermione. Can you tell me? Do you really see?"
"Harry, I have to go. My mum is calling me," she said quietly. "I'll um…I'll talk to you soon, okay? Remember your promise. Don't forget. Find me, Harry…as quickly as you can," she paused and Harry heard her sniffle. "Take care of yourself. Goodbye," she said, fighting to make her voice sound strong, even as it broke.
Without another word or even a chance for him to say goodbye, Hermione hung up the phone. The tears that had been threatening to fall while she was on the phone now flowed, uncontrollably, down her cheeks. She got up from her bed and slowly walked to the bathroom to wash her face…knowing that her parents would be home any minute.
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