A Time of Discovery by H_HrFan

Rating: G
Genres: Romance
Relationships: Harry & Hermione
Book: Harry & Hermione, Books 1 - 5
Published: 27/04/2005
Last Updated: 08/11/2005
Status: Completed

Following the final battle, Harry realizes that he has no direction in his life now that his
destiny has been fulfilled. Remembering the long ago words of a teacher sparks an intense desire in
him to gain a better understanding of himself. He finds solace in a beach house in a faraway city.
As he watches the setting of the sun over the ocean and witnesses the power of a storm as it rages
across the late afternoon sky, his thoughts take him to a place he never realized existed…home This
story is now complete.




1. Prologue
-----------



**DISCLAIMER:** JKR, I love you, but dagnabit, I really need you to return my calls! I can
feel it within me…Harry really *should* be mine. *sigh* For now though he belongs to her and,
God bless her, she's at least up for sharing in this realm. Thank goodness for that.

A/N: Much thanks goes out to my buddies and, I'm happy and proud to say PARTNERS, Cindy and
Sara. I've been working on this story for a while, and they have given me a wonderful little
boost by saying they love it! Coming from them, that means the world to me! Thanks ladies.

This is just the beginning. I don't know how long the story will be, but I have the next
part almost complete. I hope you enjoy it. Comments are always welcome.

Thanks and take care,

H_HrFan


`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'

**Prologue**

It ended. It was finally over. His destiny had been fulfilled at long last, and the remainder of
the wizarding world could live in peace. The Muggles, thankfully still living in their tiny boxes,
oblivious to the magical world surrounding them, could continue to sleep peacefully in their beds.
The war was over, the forces of evil had been destroyed, and one man stood precariously on the edge
of a great abyss. To topple into it would mean that good won out, but at a great price. Harry
Potter fought against the black hole that threatened to consume him, in the only way he possibly
could….

Little more than a week before Harry was to leave Hogwarts forever, the final battle had begun.
Voldemort had rallied some of the most feared creatures imaginable to fight alongside him. His army
was formidable. But none of that mattered. Only a handful of people knew the truth — that
regardless of the strength of the army, the battle would come down to two people…the epitome of
good versus the epitome of evil. Voldemort, being the man-snake that he was, would have to confront
Harry face-to-face. He would have to shed yet another layer of snake-like skin, this one, the layer
of fear. If the forces of evil were to win, Voldemort would have to set aside his fear of dying and
risk everything by facing straight-on, his greatest threat to victory. Harry Potter was
prepared.

The road was long, the battle fierce, both sides suffered innumerable casualties. The giants and
the trolls were nearly eradicated as species. But, just as was foretold, one lived…the other was
annihilated. Voldemort took a good many men and women with him. At the exact moment of his death,
the dark mark shot high into the sky, the fighting stopped as everyone stared in silent wonder. The
death eaters began to cheer their master's victory. As they stood, staring at the emblem that
had for so long been a part of their lives, chaos and confusion ensued. The mark exploded where it
hung, suspended in the air above them, and the hold that the Dark Lord had over them began to
crumble. What had once linked them as a formidable, single-minded family had begun to tear them
apart individually. They began to tear at their skin where the dark mark still burned. Their
thoughts became maniacal as they pulled at their hair and the flesh of their scalps, trying to make
sense of the insanity. The Aurors and the commoners on the side of good watched in horror as the
flesh became scratched and torn. All around, witches and wizards began casting binding spells to
put a stop to the ensuing madness.

The scene was one of utmost horror. The lesser of Voldemort's followers ran in fear, scared
that they too, just through association, may end up a scarred mass of human flesh like the Dark
Lord's most faithful. Many, on both sides of the battle, sought help for their mental
well-being. Harry and those closest to him were whisked away almost instantly by Dumbledore and a
handful of members from the Order. They were spared the worst of it, although they did bear witness
to some of the most volatile displays of human behavior known to man.

Now that that the battle was over Harry didn't know anymore what he was supposed to do with
his life. He'd somehow missed hearing the prophecy that told him what he was expected to do
once Tom Riddle was defeated. After 17 years, did they really expect him to figure it out on his
own when he'd never had the opportunity to make decisions for himself before? It all seemed so
freeing and yet so frustrating at the same time.

The prophecy. That damned prophecy. It foretold that one could not live while the other
survived. Now only one survived. Survived only…no one ever said a bloody thing about the survivor
actually living. The more Harry thought about it the more he began to question everything he ever
thought he knew. Because now it all seemed a lie. At the end of the battle, Harry lay in a bed in
the Hogwarts infirmary, well enough to join in the celebrations, but unwilling to participate. He
lay there, silently contemplating his future.

Apparently he'd always had lofty goals. Stemming from a time before he was born, his goal
was to become the defeater of the greatest evil known to the wizarding world; a lofty goal for a
child still in his mother's womb. His entire life was spent preparing for the inevitable
conclusion to that battle…destroy or be destroyed. He was born into it; his destiny was sealed long
before that glorious day in July when he was delivered into his mum's anxious, loving arms.

Harry was, in fact, training for that inevitable day from the very beginning. Although he was
unaware of it for many years, the time with his parents had taught him about love and had instilled
in him an innate goodness that would follow him throughout his tortured life. Living with the
Dursley's had taught him not only patience and tolerance, but how to believe in himself when it
appeared that no one else ever would.

Living with the Dursley's had, in fact, prepared him for the worst…the day when the world
he'd come to love, the one he'd finally felt a part of, turned its back on him and the
people lost faith in their `hero'. So much of his life revolved around a lousy, damnable scar
that `defeating' Voldemort as an infant, had cursed him with. It could make him or break him,
literally from one day to the next. A hero one day, a crazed, attention-seeking, misguided lunatic
the next. Now, he no longer wondered or cared what anyone thought or said about him. All he wanted
was to discover for himself just exactly who he truly was.

Hero…it was not a title he welcomed, it was a title he'd become accustomed to. It was
something he'd come to accept because he'd been unable to find a way to rid himself of it.
He'd been a hero since that fateful night when his parents died to save him. He never quite
understood how that made *him* a hero. In his mind, his parents were the heroes.

Crazed, attention-seeking, misguided lunatic wasn't exactly a title he welcomed either, but
occasionally it was nice to be thought of as normal. There were a lot of those types of individuals
out there. However, the world seemed to always be in short supply of heroes, and oftentimes the
burden could be overwhelming. He rather liked it when the wizarding world dropped him down a peg or
two. It was when they tossed him to rock bottom that he had a little more trouble accepting his
role.

After the defeat of Voldemort, Harry was overcome by dreams of a different nature. He saw
himself standing in the middle of a darkened room, surrounded by doors leading nowhere. He was
shouting, “What now? What happens now that it's over?” The only response was that of silence.
In his dreams he was alone and directionless. He was confused. He didn't know enough about
himself to determine what it was he *could* do with his life, much less what he wanted to do
with it.

He felt his world come crashing down around him and his life begin to spiral out of control.
It's how he found himself standing on the edge of the abyss. One false step, one slight stumble
and he would be lost forever. He looked for solace in the only place he'd always been able to
find it before…

He would close his eyes and picture what had always brought him the most happiness, what had
always kept him remembering that he was not alone. It was what had driven the dementors away and
what had saved his life more times then he could possibly hope to remember. Her smile…his laughter.
Her eyes…his mischievousness. The way she looked at him when he'd done something he knew she
wouldn't approve of…the fierceness with which he would strategize during a chess game. Hermione
and Ron…the two people that mattered most to him in the world. For many years he thought he'd
never get the opportunity to meet just one person that he could share something with. Somewhere
along the way, someone smiled down on him and gave him two. His blessings were greater than
he'd ever imagined they could be, and the fact that both Hermione and Ron had survived beside
him was his saving grace.

For them, he knew he had to find his way. Their lives had always been in danger, simply because
one was Muggle-born and the other was from a family fighting against Voldemort's quest for
domination. Just through association with him, their status changed from danger to grave danger.
Neither of them questioned their desire to stick with him throughout. Jealousy had, of course,
seeped in a time or two over the years, but the thread that held them together had never come close
to being severed. Together they were his reason for being. It was high time he found a way to make
things within himself right, so he could be there for them the way they'd always been there for
him.

He spent a lot of time in the infirmary thinking back on his past, and about his present and his
future. He often wondered if there was something in his past, something small and seemingly
insignificant, that could help him find his future. He let his mind wander as far back into the
past as it would go. For the most part, he avoided all thought of the Dursleys. He was quite
certain there was nothing there that would lead him to any great epiphany about his future.

He thought instead, about his school years before Hogwarts. He remembered clearly, as though the
memory had been waiting to make itself known, the day his second grade teacher told him that every
child has the gift of creativity. It was only a matter of finding that outlet for which they could
best express that gift. It was the reason why, in the primary years, so much was done in the form
of art as opposed to books. Everyone needs an outlet at some point in their lives, finding it
through the use of their own creativity makes the end result so much more meaningful. Some people
could draw, others could write the most compelling stories, while still others could paint, or
express themselves through photography. The avenues of creativity were endless.

Stifled by the Dursleys and under constant watch at Hogwarts, Harry never gotten the chance to
discover much of anything about himself. He wanted to be more than just another face in the crowd,
more than just today's headline, more than just another great wizard. He wanted to know
himself, he wanted to feel right with his choices, and he wanted, above all else, to be the man his
friends already thought he was.

Harry decided that he needed to discover if what his teacher had told him was true. He was no
longer a child, he hadn't been for many years, but he wanted to find his inner creative child.
He needed to find the gift he'd never had the opportunity to explore.

He talked in private with Dumbledore and told him that he wanted to remain in his hospital bed
until after school let out. He needed his injuries to be exaggerated just enough to keep him there
while the others stepped onto the Hogwarts Express and stepped out into their futures.

He wanted to disappear…and he wanted to do it without any fanfare. As much as he needed them,
and as much as he knew they were the reason he was even alive to take this opportunity, he
didn't even want to face his two best friends when he did it. He didn't want to give anyone
the chance to talk him out of it.

Up to the time when school ended, many students stopped by the infirmary to check on him, to
thank him, and to congratulate him. He was always gracious and humble, but he longed for the day
when he could finally be alone. Thankfully the day came, although not without incident. Ron and
Hermione had both insisted upon staying with him until he was able to leave the hospital. He'd
finally had to put his foot down and tell them that he simply did not want them to stay. He
appreciated their concern, but he needed them to go. All he wanted was to be alone, to think, to
contemplate, to recover.

He watched with an aching heart as Hermione turned to look at him one last time before she
lowered her head and passed through the infirmary doors. He thought he caught a glimmer of light on
her cheek, reflected in a way that only a tear can. He sighed heavily and dropped his head to the
pillow. The pain he felt in that moment nearly overpowered his intense desire to runaway.

The following day he set about gathering his things and preparing to leave. He sat at his desk
and wrote letters to both Ron and Hermione, explaining what it was he had to do.

*Dear Ron,*

*I bolted! I'm sure you knew it would happen, I could see it in your eyes as you left
yesterday. I have to get away from here. I promise I'll write when I get to where I'm
going…and no, I don't know where that is yet.*

*Thank you for all you've done. For always being there. You are a true friend and for that
I will be forever grateful. It is the reason I'm still here and the reason I will
return.*

*I'm sorry for leaving this way. But know this, I will come back.*

*Your friend and brother,*

*Harry*

Harry didn't want the letter long and sappy. In fact, it was sappier than he preferred even
as it was, but he wanted to get it sent so he sealed it and set out to write a letter for
Hermione.

*Dear Hermione,*

*I think this is, by far, the hardest letter I've ever had to write. You know me so well
that I'm sure this won't come as a surprise to you, but I've left. I have to get away
from this. I have to find myself before there's nothing left to find. I have a feeling that if
I stay here, I'll lose myself forever.*

*I was thinking about my second grade teacher the other day. She told me once that all
children have the gift of creativity…that we just have to find that gift within ourselves. I need
to know if that's true. I'm going to look for mine. I believe it lies dormant in me
somewhere…I just hope I'm not too late to find it.*

*I'm so sorry for leaving you like this. I know I should've said something to you
before you left. As it was, my heart was breaking as I watched you walk away. The look in your eyes
nearly broke my resolve. I knew I couldn't take the disappointment in your eyes, too. It's
the look I see right now as I picture you reading this. Please forgive me.*

*I promise you, Hermione, I `will' come back. I already know I can't stay away from
you forever. You mean entirely too much to me. I do hope you believe me and that you remember it as
time goes by.*

*I don't know how long I'll be gone or even where I'm going. Just know that
I'll be thinking about you. You are never far from my thoughts.*

*I will write to you as soon as I get to wherever it is I'm going.*

*Yours forever,*

*Harry*

Harry quickly sealed the parchment before he could change his mind. He took the letters to the
owlery and called up to Hedwig to deliver them. “I trust you'll find me, girl,” he said gently
as he ran his hand over the back of his beloved owl. Hedwig hooted and nipped at his fingers
affectionately before she flew out the window to deliver his letters. Harry watched with a
bittersweet smile.

This was it.

The time had come to go.

-->



2. Chapter 1 - The Perfect Place
--------------------------------

**The Perfect Place**

Harry wanted a secluded location somewhere near the water. He wanted to be able to walk along
the shoreline, wade in the water, climb the rocks and feel the spray of the ocean water on his
face. He lost himself in a public library for three days before he finally found the perfect place.
He briefly noted that Hermione would have been proud of the diligence he’d exerted to find exactly
the place he was looking for.

Once he knew where he was going, he put a rush on his passport. The moment he received it, he
wasted no time in booking his flight, tying up a few loose ends, and catching a plane to the United
States. Eventually, after many restless hours, he landed in Portland, Oregon and caught a small
commuter flight into North Bend, a small coastal town thirty minutes from his final destination. He
had pre-arranged to have a driver take him the remaining distance to Bandon; a quiet little
oceanside town where he’d made arrangements to rent a beach house with lots of windows, wide-open
spaces…and extraordinary views of the Pacific Ocean.

Highway 101, the road that would take him to his place of discovery, was not far from the
airport, so there was very little in the way of stop and go before they reached it. Harry sat back,
staring out the window, smiling contentedly as he gazed in wonder at the world around him. They
passed right through the heart of a quaint little town called Coos Bay with its look of days long
past. People were milling about on the sidewalks, enjoying the beautiful weather and the shops
lining the highway on both sides. Harry felt a great deal of longing to be one of those people, to
blend into the crowd with seemingly little in the way of worry occupying his mind.

Once they left the city limits, there wasn’t much left to see aside from trees and endless
stretches of highway and an occasional house or farm set against a backdrop of low-lying mountains.
Harry closed his eyes and settled back for the remainder of the drive. The drive, in and of itself
was uneventful and, in his haste to reach his new home, thankfully short. Already he was thrilled
with the idea of being here. He already loved what little he’d seen of Oregon, and he knew that it
would only get better.

The moment they turned onto the street where his new home awaited him, he began to feel anxious.
This was such a drastic step for a kid of only seventeen. Granted, his carefree days of childhood
had been ripped away from him long before they should have been. And he’d been forced to take on
responsibilities that far exceeded those of any other kid his age. But still, he couldn’t stop the
feeling of nervousness that suddenly swelled within him. As the car slowly made its way down the
block, he began to question whether or not he had made the right decision. He closed his eyes and
took a deep, cleansing breath. *Too late to turn back now*, he thought with a certain amount
of finality and a little less regret.

“Here we are, sir,” the driver said, his voice light as it carried back to where Harry sat, his
eyes still closed.

Slowly Harry opened his eyes, intentionally focusing his gaze directly on the driver. “Thank
you,” he said, smiling nervously.

“This is a beautiful place,” the driver said, looking out the window in the direction of the
house. “You staying long?”

Harry looked out the window and for a moment, sat in stunned silence. “As long as it takes,” he
murmured nearly incoherently. He looked back at the driver. “It is beautiful, isn’t it?” he said,
his voice full of wonder. It was one of the most beautiful places he could ever remember
seeing.

“How about we get your luggage,” the driver suggested, as he turned around to open his door.

Harry nodded and groped around for the handle before he finally had to pull his eyes away from
the house and look at the door so he could open it. The driver had the trunk open and Harry’s two
small suitcases were already sitting on the driveway before he’d made it around to the back of the
car to help.

“Thanks,” Harry said, reaching in his pocket for his wallet, “how much do I owe you?”

“That’ll be $30.00,” the driver replied.

Harry pulled a fifty dollar bill from his wallet. “Keep the change,” he said, he held out his
hand and as the driver shook it, he thanked him again. Harry reached for his bags at the same time
the driver did. “I’ll get these,” he said, picking them up himself. “Thanks again.”

The driver looked at the house once more and then returned his gaze to Harry. “My pleasure,” he
said kindly. “Enjoy yourself. I hope you find whatever it is you’re looking for.”

He turned to walk to the front of the car and Harry looked at him in astonishment. “How did
you…?”

“A young man like you, all alone? You’ve obviously come a long way, what with an accent like
that. Just assumed you must be looking for something,” he replied. “I hope you find it.”

“Thanks,” Harry replied, nodding slightly, “I hope so too.”

The driver bowed his head and smiled. “If you’re ever in need of a driver, here’s my card,” he
said, pulling out his wallet and handing Harry a business card. Harry set his bags down and reached
for it. “Name is Jim.” He tapped the edge of the card as Harry held it up to read it. “I have my
own business so if there’s anything you need, you just call that number right there.”

“I will,” Harry replied. “Thanks again.”

“You betcha.” Jim opened the car door and took one last look at the house. “If you can’t find it
here son, I’ll say a prayer for you.” With that, he climbed in the car and shut the door.

Harry waved as Jim backed out of the driveway and drove away. He could never remember feeling so
alive and so alone at the same time before. He closed his eyes and released a heavy sigh. He picked
up his bags and turned to face his immediate future.

He walked toward the porch and set his bags down, curious about the rest of the house and what
he would find when he stepped around the back. He walked to the edge of the driveway, checked the
ground around him, placed his hand on the corner of the house, and closed his eyes and stepped
forward. He listened with a sense of longing, to the sounds of the ocean waters, and the seagulls
calling from high above. A breeze kicked up around him and his hair fluttered about his forehead,
he smelled the crisp clean air as it blew in from the ocean. Slowly, he opened his eyes.

It took him a moment to adjust his sight to the scene before him. The sun was shining down
brightly and the way it glistened against the water momentarily stung his eyes. He walked forward
until he had a clear view of the back of the house. There was a covered porch large enough for a
hammock and table for four. There was a low railing that ran the length of the sides and a couple
of feet across the front from both sides. There were deep steps leading down into the sand below.
Another 100 yards and he would be wading in the cool waters of the Pacific. He stepped up onto the
balcony and looked out upon his new world, and he knew in an instant, that this was exactly where
he belonged.

He was so entranced by the sight and sounds before him that he barely registered the opening of
the large glass door behind him.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” A woman’s voice spoke softly from behind him.

Startled, Harry jumped around and instinctively reached for his wand. Thankfully he wasn’t carrying
it. The woman started at his sudden movement and instantly Harry felt regret for his instinctive
actions. “I’m sorry,” he said quickly. “I didn’t hear you come out.”

The woman held her hand to her heart for a moment longer and took a deep, calming breath. “Quite
alright,” she said breathily. “I’m sorry I frightened you. You must be Mr. Potter?”

“Yes ma’am,” he said, holding out his hand. “That must make you Ms. Richards?”

“Miss, yes…Tanya, please,” she replied, taking his hand in a firm shake.

“Harry.”

“Very well then, Harry,” she replied smiling, “shall we?” She gestured toward the house and
Harry nodded. He took one last look out across the ocean before following her inside.

“Well, you’re payment has already cleared,” she stated, looking at the papers lined up across
the table. She looked at him questioningly, “All six months paid in advance?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Harry replied. “Seemed a bit easier that way,” he added with a smile.

She looked at him appraisingly. “Well, we’re certainly not going to complain about that,” she
said, rearranging the papers. “It looks like all we need to do is have you sign here,” she pointed
at the paper, “and here. And then we’ll be done.”

“Great,” Harry replied, anxious to get started on his tour of the house. He picked up a pen and
bent down to sign the forms. He was oblivious to the look that passed across her face as she
watched him.

“May I ask you something?” she said hesitantly.

Harry finished signing the papers and stood up to look at her. “Of course.”

She raised her eyebrow and studied him for a moment. “How old are you?”

Harry chuckled and looked down at the papers. “Doesn’t it say on the application?” he asked
evasively.

She laughed softly in return. “I thought it might be wrong,” she replied.

Harry’s cheeks flushed a soft pink and he looked busily at the papers, searching for the date of
his birth. He swallowed hard and pointed. “Nope,” he said huskily, “that’s right. Just, um,
seventeen. Uh, yeah…erm, eighteen in another week,” he stammered, looking up at her quickly.

“Mmm,” she murmured, still studying his face. “You look older.”

“Nope,” he repeated, “that’s it.”

After what felt like an eternity to him, she lowered her gaze and looked around the house. “Do
you want me to show you around?” she asked, returning her gaze to him.

“Erm, uh,” Harry shook his head, “no, that’s all right. I’m kind of excited to explore it all on
my own, thanks.”

“All right then,” she said with a sigh, “it looks like our business is done here.”

Harry released the breath he’d nervously been clinging to. “Well, thank you,” he said quickly,
holding his hand out once again. “I really appreciate how easy your company has made this on me. I
feared it might be a bit more difficult.”

“It’s my…” she laughed softly again and cleared her throat, “I mean, *our* pleasure. If
there’s anything you need, just give me a call. My number is on the card,” she said, pointing at
the business card on the table.

Harry looked hesitantly down at the table. “Yes, well, ahem,” he stammered. He cleared his
throat and looked up quickly to face her. “I’ll remember that,” he said in as close to a normal
tone as he’d been able to find in the past few minutes. He picked up the card. “I’ve got it right
here,” he said, pulling out his wallet and placing it inside with the card he’d received earlier
from Jim.

“Wonderful,” she said placing her hand on his as he folded up his wallet. “I’m looking forward
to your call already. Any questions about the city, any sights you want to see or any advice I can
give on what’s worth seeing, you let me know.”

Harry looked at her strangely. “Yeah, okay,” he replied, feeling a bit more uncomfortable.
“Shall I show you out?” he asked, trying to maintain some sense of politeness as he swept his hands
toward the front door.

“Certainly,” she said abruptly. She quickly gathered up the papers and followed his gesture
toward the door.

Harry followed right behind and reached around her to open the door, allowing her plenty of room
to pass through. “Thanks again,” he said genially. She looked at him questioningly as he followed
her out the door. “Have to get my luggage,” he said, pointing to his suitcases sitting there on the
porch.

“Oh, I see,” she said, chuckling softly. She maneuvered around them and stepped down from the
porch. “I’ll get you a copy of these papers within the next couple of days. Would you like for me
to drop them off for you or would you like to come and pick them up?”

“Mail is fine,” Harry said, ignoring her options and avoiding her gaze. He bent down to pick up
his suitcases and glanced at her briefly. “Thanks for all your help. Maybe I’ll see you around
sometime over the next six months.”

“You’ve got my card?” she asked, stalling her departure.

Harry inwardly sighed and outwardly smiled. “You know I do. Enjoy your afternoon, Tanya,” he
said, trying to sound both patient and kind.

“You, too,” she said, glancing down toward the ground. “Enjoy your house.”

“I will,” Harry replied. He turned around and walked into the house and shut the door before she
could hold him up any longer. He set down his suitcases and locked the bolt on the door. He walked
to the sliding glass door they’d entered through and locked it as well. Feeling secure in the
knowledge that she wouldn’t be coming back in, he picked up his suitcases and began the search for
his bedroom.

It was a 1200-square foot, two bedroom, three bath house, with a sunken living room, a built in
bar, widescreen television, and a large kitchen. The two bedrooms were master suites located on the
ocean side at either end of the house. Both had large bathrooms with garden tubs surrounded by
privacy windows that looked out across the sand and water. Each bedroom had two large bay windows
with the same view. One of the rooms had a flower patterned bedspread on the bed and candles and
bowls of potpourri scattered throughout the space. The other room had a block designed bedspread in
maroon, blue, and hunter green. There were candles in matching shades on small shelves that lined
two of the walls in the room. Both contained a large closet along the wall opposite the window.
Harry set his suitcases down and stood, staring out the window.

It was just after four in the afternoon and jet lag was beginning to settle in. He glanced
around the room for a place to unpack his stuff and found a dresser in the closet. He picked up one
of the suitcases and laid it open on the bed and began to unpack.

Halfway through the suitcase he felt the first of three pictures he’d brought with him. He
pulled it out and smiled tenderly at it. It was the one of his parents that he’d gotten from Hagrid
at the end of his first year at Hogwarts, he watched for a moment as his parents danced playfully
together. He gently touched his finger to it before he laid it down on the bed. He continued to
unpack, hauling socks and underthings to the dresser and placing them neatly in the top drawer. He
shook out some of his shirts and hung them in the closet, while others he placed neatly in the
drawer. He looked down at what he was doing and laughed. “Aunt Petunia isn’t here,” he said aloud
to himself. He reached into the drawer and messed up his shirts a bit and laughed again.

He returned to his suitcase and felt another picture. He pulled it out and sat heavily on the
bed. This one was taken just a couple of days prior to the start of the final battle. It was one of
him, Hermione, and Ron and it was the last picture the three of them had taken together. Colin had
developed it almost immediately after he took it and had given each of them a framed copy. It was
the last time he could remember feeling truly happy. The impending war was a constant threat, but
in that moment, it was the last thing on any of their minds. He sat on his bed, watching as he and
Hermione exchanged glances and together looked at Ron and they all began to laugh. Harry felt a
tightness in his chest, a longing to recapture that moment for real. *Someday,* he thought,
feeling a moment’s sadness.

He sighed heavily and laid the picture down next to the one of his parents. He closed up the now
empty suitcase and placed it in the closet beside the dresser. He reached for the other one and
opened it on the bed. Immediately his hands sought out the third and final picture. He raised the
pillows against the wall and sat back against them, staring at the picture he held tightly in his
hands. It was taken immediately after the one of the three of them had been taken. This one was
just him and Hermione. Ron had slipped away to stand beside Luna who was waiting patiently off to
the side while Colin took their picture.

Harry wrapped his arms around Hermione and she glanced up at him before laying her head against
his chest and wrapping her arms around him. His chin rested on the top of her head and both of them
had closed their eyes. There was something almost heartbreaking about the way they stood there. It
was as though they both knew that the time was at hand when they wouldn’t have each other to cling
to anymore. Neither of them appeared ready to let go of the other. Harry watched the scene play
over and over. His arms around her, her glance upward, her head against his chest, her arms
wrapping around him, and their eyes closing at almost the exact same moment. He moved his hand and
gently placed his thumb on the picture and caressed it back and forth across her face.

The ache in his heart grew as he realized how long it would be before he saw them both again. It
helped, knowing that what he was doing, he was doing for all of them. He knew he’d appreciate them
more if he could just learn to appreciate himself. He looked at the picture for a few more seconds
then set it on the nightstand beside the bed. He sat up and reached for the others and placed them
on the nightstand as well.

Abandoning his unpacking, he rose from the bed and paced around the house…a sudden uneasiness
overcoming him. It felt as though there was something he needed to do. He looked around the house
and saw the telephone where it hung on the wall near the sliding glass door. He walked over to it
and hesitantly lifted the receiver from its base. He dialed her number quickly, before he lost his
nerve.

“Hullo?” A woman’s sleepy voice answered from the other end of the line. He recognized her voice
immediately, although in her obviously sleepy state, it sounded deeper than he remembered it.

“I miss you,” Harry said softly. “Did I wake you?”

“Excuse me?” she said, sounding just slightly more alert. “Who is this?”

Harry chuckled softly to himself. “This is Harry,” he said lightly.

“Harry?” The woman asked, he could hear the confusion in her voice.

Harry’s heart began to beat rapidly against his chest. “Potter,” he said, trying to keep his
voice light. “Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten me already.”

“Oh, Harry,” she said, sounding somewhat relieved. “I’m sorry, obviously you’re calling for
Hermione. She’s asleep right now. Is something wrong?”

Relief swept through him and he couldn’t contain the chuckle that escaped him. “No, Mrs.
Granger, I just wanted to talk to her, that’s all.”

“Well, its 1:30 in the morning, Harry. She should be up in about five hours. Is it important?
Should I wake her?”

“I. am. So. Sorry,” he said, articulating every word and feeling like the biggest idiot in the
world. “I forgot all about the time difference. No, please don’t wake her. Again, I’m so sorry for
calling at such an awful hour. I really didn’t mean to wake you.”

“It’s all right,” she replied, although Harry could hear the hesitation in her voice as she said
it. “Is there a message I can give her? A phone number where she can call you back? Anything?”

Harry looked at the phone and realized he had no idea what his phone number was. “No ma’am, no
number. Can you please just let her know that I called? I’ll call her back again at a more
reasonable hour.”

“Sure, Harry,” she replied. “I can tell her that for you. Are you sure everything’s all right?
Hermione told us that you had to go out of town for a while. Is anything wrong?”

“No, Mrs. Granger, nothing’s wrong,” he replied softly. “Just missing Hermione and, you know,
and Ron. Ron doesn’t have a telephone,” he stammered by way of explanation. The truth was, the
thought of calling Ron hadn’t even occurred to him, regardless of the fact that he didn’t have a
phone.

“Well, if you’re sure then,” she replied, he could hear the uncertainty in her voice. “I’ll give
Hermione the message.”

“Thanks, Mrs. Granger,” Harry said, feeling both solemn and embarrassed. “I’m sorry.
Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Harry.”

Harry waited for the click and then hung up his phone. “Idiot,” he muttered to himself.

Realizing he had no food, no means of transportation, and no real knowledge of how close
shopping was, he picked up the phone again. He pulled out his wallet and dialed Tanya’s number.

“Rothman Property Management, this is Tanya, may I help you?”

Harry shuddered and took a deep, shaky breath. “Hi Tanya, this is Harry Potter.”

“Oh, Harry,” she said, Harry caught the change in her tone immediately. “I didn’t expect you to
call so soon.”

“Yeah, well,” he started hesitantly, “I need to check a few things with you. First, I want to
make sure that the water and all that have been transferred to my name.”

“Oh, yes, we didn’t talk about that, did we?” she replied. “Everything except the electricity
has been switched. The electric company won’t let us make the switch for you, you’ll have to call
them yourself. You have a pen? I’ll give you the number.”

“Um, hang on a second,” he said, reaching across the counter and grabbing a pen and a piece of
scrap paper. “All right, I’m ready.”

“Okay, their number is 572-5567. You’ll just have to give them your address and your name, it
shouldn’t take long to get it switched over. You could probably just do it in the morning. Was
there something else?”

“Yeah,” he said, sounding a little embarrassed, “I need to know the phone number here and I need
to make sure the phone is in my name as well. I made a call home earlier and didn’t think about who
would be billed for it until after I made it.”

He heard a soft laugh in the background before she spoke. “Boy, we left a lot undone today,
didn’t we?” she said lightly.

“I suppose so,” Harry replied, trying to keep his voice from sounding too inviting. All he
wanted from her was some information; he didn’t want her getting any ideas about anything else.

“Okay, you have that pen ready?” she asked.

“Uh-huh,” he mumbled in reply.

“All right, your phone number is 541-574-2182. And yes, it took a little persuading, but we were
able to get the phone transferred into your name with an effective date of today, so you should be
good to go.”

“Great, thanks,” Harry replied quickly. “One more thing. Can you tell me how to get to the
nearest store from here? Is there one within walking distance?”

“Well, let me think,” she said thoughtfully. “There’s one about a ½ mile down the road. Do you
need to buy a lot?”

“Well, I have to stock the cupboards. Right now they’re bare. I can always walk down there and
catch a taxi back, right?”

“I get off work in half-an-hour, I could come and pick you up if you’d like, show you around the
town a little bit and take you by the store. That way you won’t have to find a way home and you can
get as much as you need. Whaddya say?”

“I don’t want to put you out,” Harry replied, trying to find a gracious way out.

“Oh, it’s no bother at all,” she replied. “We do it for our clients all the time.”

“After hours?” Harry replied incredulously. “That doesn’t sound like much fun when you’re
supposed to be off work.”

“Well, we really only do it for special clients,” she said, giggling at his remark. “How about
we just say that I’m doing a favor for someone I hope to make friends with, and we’ll leave it at
that?”

“Uh,” he replied hesitantly. He realized that the idea was a good one, but he really wasn’t sure
that he actually wanted to spend too much time around Tanya. “Are you sure it won’t be a bother? I
really don’t mind finding another way if you just tell me how to get there.”

“I’m sure,” she answered quickly. “I’ll be there to pick you up in 45 minutes. See you then.”
She hung up the phone before he could even say thanks or goodbye.

“Guess I’ve got no choice now, do I?” he mumbled. He suddenly found himself wishing he had a
Muggle photograph of Hermione that he could leave out in his living room. A large one maybe, that
he could hang on the wall above the fireplace. “Gonna have to ask her for one,” he said with a
chuckle.

He decided to go back to his room and finish unpacking while he waited. Fifteen minutes later,
he was done. With at least thirty more minutes to wait he decided to jump in the shower and try to
freshen up a bit, so that maybe he’d be able to fight the jet lag a little longer.

With about ten minutes left to wait, Harry found himself standing once again on his back porch.
Walking along the beach seemed like a much better way to spend his evening than driving around town
with a woman he really didn’t even want to see. He’d have to make their time together as short as
he possibly could.

Harry walked back into the house and was practically waiting by the door when Tanya arrived. He
grabbed his keys and walked outside before she could even ring the doorbell. “Hi,” she said
abruptly, stopping mid-step as she watched him walk out.

He locked the door and turned to face her. “Hi. Are you sure this is no bother?” he asked again.
He was facing her now and he was sure he’d be able to tell by her face whether or not she was being
honest.

“Not at all,” she said, eyeing him closely. “You ready?”

Harry turned back and pretended to check the door. He rolled his eyes and took a quick breath
before turning back to her. “Yeah, I’m ready. Where’re we going first? I don’t really want to be
gone too long, I’d like to watch the sunset tonight, what with it being my first night and
all.”

“All right,” she said, her voice dropping slightly. “How about I show you where the post office
and strip mall are? There’s a grocery store there, along with an arts and crafts store, an ice
cream parlor, a sandwich shop, and a few other odds-and-ends type places. You should be able to
find just about everything you’ll need there. How does that sound?”

Harry’s eyes lit up. “Sounds great,” he exclaimed.

“Let’s go,” she said, walking toward her car.

They got in the car and she began bombarding him when questions that he only half listened to.
Where was he from in Europe? When did he graduate? What brought him to the United States…Bandon in
particular? Did he have a girlfriend?

*Did…*“What?” he asked, surprised by the question. His answers had been pretty much
programmed responses to that point. The last question threw him off.

“Do you have a girlfriend? I mean, is there some lucky girl waiting back home for you?” Tanya
asked, trying to keep as much of the anxiety out of her voice as she could.

Harry realized this was the perfect opportunity to change the course of Tanya’s thinking. He
wasn’t interested in seeing anyone while he was there. He was on a quest and he didn’t really
welcome the distraction he knew she would provide. “Yes,” he answered hesitantly.

She glanced at him from behind the wheel. “You don’t sound so sure,” she remarked.

“No, I am. There’s a girl back home waiting on me,” he replied. “Only I don’t think that makes
her the lucky one. I believe that makes me the lucky one, don’t you think?”

Tanya sighed. “Why are the good ones always taken?”

Harry laughed. “You don’t know enough about me to know if I’m a good one or not,” he said
blatantly.

She pulled into a parking space and turned off the engine before looking at him. “Sometimes you
just know,” she said softly.

Harry looked at her and thought about Hermione again, then nodded his head slightly. He then
looked up at the row of buildings in front of him. “So this is it, huh? The…” he paused and looked
at her, “what did you call it? The what, mall?”

“Strip mall. But I think just mall is okay, too,” she said with a laugh. “Come on, let’s get you
what you need.”

Harry got out of the car and began to follow her. She took about ten steps from the side of the
car and pointed to the end of the row of buildings. “Right down there is a small post office. You
can get stamps, mail letters, that kind of thing from there. Over there,” she pointed more toward
the middle of the row, “is the arts and crafts store. A little further down is the ice cream parlor
and then the sandwich shop.”

“Wow! They pack a lot of things in this little area, don’t they?” he said, looking around with
wide eyes.

“I take it they don’t have things like this in London,” she said, laughing at his childlike
reaction.

“I…” he paused for a moment and looked down at the ground before he looked back up at her, “I
really wouldn’t know,” he said softly. “I didn’t make it out and about in London much. But hey, I
don’t wanna talk about that. How about we hit the arts and crafts store first?”

“Sounds good to me,” she said, taking a step in that direction.

Harry followed behind her, staring at the stores and the people as they passed. They entered the
arts and crafts store and Harry walked straight up to the counter to talk with the salesperson
there. “Excuse me,” he said, “can you help me?”

“What can I do for you?” The woman behind the counter asked. She was an older woman and Harry
felt very much at ease speaking to her.

“I need to buy a lot of supplies and I’m wondering if it would be possible to have them
delivered to my home.”

“How much stuff are you talking about?” The woman asked.

“Loads of stuff, really. I need an easel and some paper, I need paints, and pencils, and
charcoal, and pens, and, well, I don’t really know how much else. But I know there’s more,” he
said, excitement ringing in his voice.

“Well, depending on how often you order and how much you spend, we have a program you can sign
up for. We get a lot of artist-types in this town so the owner set up something where they can call
into the store and order their supplies and have them delivered, so long as it’s within a 20-mile
radius. There’s a monthly minimum purchase of $200.00 dollars though. Do you think you’ll be buying
that much? Is that something you think you’d be interested in?”

“Definitely,” Harry said excitedly. “Do you have like a catalog or something that I can take
with me? If I give you an order and pay for it today, how long would it be before it would get
delivered?”

“Generally takes about two days if you come into the store to do it,” the woman replied.
“Depending on the size of the order, it could take a day to get the supplies together and then we
deliver the next. How soon do you need it?”

“Two days will be fine,” Harry replied. “I’ll just get some paper, pens, and pencils to take
with me today, that’ll do me for a couple of days. The rest can wait.”

“All right, let me show you where things are.” She led the way through the store and Harry
pointed out for her all of the things that he wanted to have delivered. He picked up the supplies
he planned to take that day and forty-five minutes and $300.00 later, he walked out of the store
with Tanya walking along behind him.

“You don’t plan to get out much, do you?” Tanya asked as they made their way back to her car to
drop off Harry’s supplies.

“Not really,” Harry replied. “I’m sort of on a mission.”

“All right,” Tanya said conceding. “Let’s get your groceries and get you home then.”

Harry looked at her and felt a flicker of guilt for the way he was treating her. “I’m sorry,” he
said abruptly. “I don’t mean to make it appear as though I’m taking advantage of your kindness
right now. I really do appreciate your doing this for me.”

Tanya smiled at him and glanced toward the ground. “You know, I don’t usually act this way with
my clients. This is the first time, actually. There’s just something about you that makes me want
to get to know you. I can’t explain it,” she said, looking back up at him.

“I won’t lead you on,” he said quietly. “There’s no chance that things could go any further than
friendship between us. I didn’t come here looking for a relationship, and I am going back home at
some point. If you can accept the fact that we can’t be more than friends, I could use a friend
while I’m here. If not, than I’m afraid this’ll have to be it.”

“You’re one hell of a guy, Harry,” she replied. She laced her arm through his and started
leading him toward the store. “I think I can handle that…and I appreciate your honesty. That’s a
rare thing these days.” She halted her steps and looked up at him. “Regardless of what you say, she
really is a lucky girl,” she said, an open, honest expression on her face.

“Thanks,” he replied softly. “Now let’s go,” he added with a laugh, leading her quickly into the
store.

In less than thirty minutes he had his groceries and they were headed back to her car. They
loaded the trunk and took the ½ mile trip in silence. She helped him unload his bags and carry them
into the kitchen. Once the last bag was brought in she took a few hesitant steps toward the front
door. “I’m, I’m just gonna go. I’ll see myself out.”

“Hang on a second,” Harry called from the kitchen. He walked out and stood in front of her. He
picked up her hand and held it for a moment. “Thank you,” he said softly. “I’m sorry for what I
said, I really am, but there’s no way that I can lie to you about this. I do appreciate your taking
the time out of your evening to help me out. Maybe we can get together for dinner sometime.”

“I’d like that,” she replied, squeezing his hand. “I’ll see you later, then. It’s almost time
for you to catch that sunset. Better hurry up with those,” she added, pointing to the grocery bags
lining the floor.

Harry turned around and looked at them. He faced her again and rolled his eyes, “yeah…I’ll do
that. Thanks again.”

“Anytime. See you, Harry.”

“See you.” Harry walked her to the door and watched as she got into her car and pulled away. He
waved once and then went inside and locked the door.

He put away all the groceries that required either freezing or refrigeration and left the rest
for later. He looked down at all the bags lying about haphazardly and he couldn’t contain that
laughter that accompanied the sight of them. “Aunt Petunia would freak,” he said aloud to himself.
The thought almost made him want to keep the bags there for a couple of days. He knew though, that
her obsession with cleanliness had been ingrained in him and he wouldn’t be able to wait too long
to clean it up.

He glanced toward the back door. It was around 8:00 and the sky was just beginning its first
fade into darkness. He stepped out to stand on the patio. The sky was a deepening gray with shades
of orange, red, and yellow reflecting off the slowly descending sun. Harry walked back into the
house to grab a piece of paper and a pen. He sat down at the table and tried to capture his
thoughts on paper. He’d never thought of himself as poetic, but that’s what this journey was all
about. It was all about discovery, and the sight of the sun setting over the Pacific Ocean was
begging for him to put ink to paper. He wrote without truly comprehending the words. He allowed his
mind to drift as his fingers held the pen, and the pen moved against the paper…

The sky is cast in the muted shades of autumn, although the summer has only just begun. Oranges,
reds, and yellows set against the darkening yellow-orange of the setting sun fill my vision. I
avert my eyes only long enough to watch as the colors play tag with each other in the ocean waters;
their hues ever-changing as one washes into another with the rippling of the waves. They begin to
fade only as the tide grows stronger and pounds against the unprotected sands of the shore, and the
sun descends farther down into the horizon.


Through narrowed eyes I see the ocean spray as the waves beat against the rocks. How I wish that
I was sitting there now, feeling the water as it splashes against my skin. If I close my eyes, I
can feel it cleanse me. I know it’s something you would enjoy as well. If I concentrate hard
enough, I can see us sitting there together and I can hear our laughter as it echoes across the
near-silent night. And I miss you even more.

Harry felt a lone tear slide down his cheek and as it fell, he shook the vision of him and…him
and, and “who?” he wondered aloud. “Don’t be a fool,” he chided himself. “There’s no one here but
you and finding yourself does not mean searching for someone else.”

He looked out at the ocean and stared at the haunting beauty of the undulating moon in its
reflection on the water—and thought about Hermione. He picked up his pen and paper and walked back
into the house. It was after 10 now, and a decent time of the morning to call her. He walked to the
phone and with a shaky hand, picked up the receiver. He’d made certain before he left that he had
her number and the country code so he could call her anytime, once again he dialed her number from
memory.

“Hullo?”

Harry smiled and released the breath he’d been holding in a slow, silent whoosh. “I miss you,”
he said softly to the all-too-familiar voice on the other end of the line.



3. Chapter 2 - A Talk Between Friends
-------------------------------------



**A Talk Between Friends**

“Who is…?” There was a pause on the line and Harry thought for a moment that he'd lost his
connection.

“Hermione? Are you…”

“Harry? Harry is that you?” she squealed into the phone. “Mum said you called. It's still so
early here, but I've been waiting for the phone to ring since she told me. It feels like ages.
How are you?”

“I'm…”

“What are doing? Where have you gone? Are you feeling all right? Is everything okay?” she was
questioning him rapid-fire and, as he tried to keep up, he felt the tiring effects of his jet lag
begin to wash over him. He was tired and so caught up in trying to keep up with her that he missed
the abrupt silence that came when she finished speaking. “Harry? Are you there?” he heard her
anxious voice call out to him.

Harry began to chuckle. “Now I remember exactly why I miss you,” he replied. “I'm fine.
Everything's fine. Just needed to hear your…a, um, a friendly voice, that's all. I just
miss you guys. You have to slow up a bit though if you want me to answer all those questions.”

The sound of her laughter reached his ear and he closed his eyes and listened, concentrating on
the sound. There was something vaguely familiar about it, not because it belonged to Hermione, it
was more because he could swear he'd heard that exact sound not so long ago.

“Sorry, Harry,” she said, chuckling softly. He could hear the smile in her voice and he could
clearly visualize her rolling her eyes at her own exuberance. “Where are you? Can you tell me that?
I know you must've gone a long way, Hedwig's here. That note she brought me didn't say
much though.” Her voice dropped and Harry could swear he heard the slightest hint of anger in
it.

“Hermione, I'm sorry,” he said quickly. “I didn't mean to just send her on like that. I
tried to bring her with me but there were too many restrictions for taking birds, owls in
particular, on a plane. Finally, I figured it would be easier to just let her stay with you or Ron
while I was away. I hope it's not been a bother for you. I thought about you first because you
don't have an owl. I thought you might be able to use her a bit more than Ron would.” He'd
barely taken a breath as he rambled on, in hope of making her understand the reason for why things
happened the way they did…before she got any angrier with him.

“No, she's fine, Harry. I love Hedwig, you know that. But tell me where you are. Why are you
leaving her here the entire time you're gone? Can't she fly out to you?”

“I'm in the United States. It's too far for her to fly. If you can't keep her
though, you can send her on to Ron, I'm sure he won't mind,” he said thoughtfully. “I
just…I sent her to you as a kind of promise, too,” he added, his voice fading slightly as he
spoke.

“What kind of promise, Harry?” she asked quietly.

“A promise that I'd come back. A promise that I would find you again when this journey
ends,” he said softly.

He could hear her sharp intake of breath and when he closed his eyes, he could visualize her
sitting there, phone held to her ear, eyes closed, head leaning back against the wall as she
contemplated his words. “Where are you, Harry? When are you coming home?” she asked after a few
moments' silence.

Harry took a deep breath and walked to the sliding glass door. He pulled it open and stepped out
into the night. He walked to the edge of the deck and looked up. The sky was littered with stars
and the moon shone brightly against the deep blue sky. The smell of the ocean permeated the air and
he breathed deeply of its scent. He listened as the waves crashed against the rocks and shore, the
sound soothing his soul…even in that brief moment. “Ah, Hermione, I wish you were here. You should
see this place,” he said, intentionally keeping his voice soft so he wouldn't disturb the
serenity of the night. “I'm in a little town in Oregon, called Bandon. I rented a beach house
and right now I'm standing on the deck looking out over the Pacific Ocean. It's hard to see
anything but if I look a little to my left, there's a reflection from the moon on the water. It
lights it up just enough for me to see some of the waves. The sound they make is amazing. You'd
love it here, Hermione. It's so peaceful.”

“When are you coming home?” she repeated. Her voice had dropped again, only this time Harry
could clearly hear the anxiety in it.

“I took a six-month lease. It expires in the middle of January, but I paid through the end of
the month.”

“Do you really think you'll need that much time?” she asked, her voice trembling and
unsteady.

“I don't know,” he replied, trying hard to be honest with himself, as well as her. “I think
I'm going to stay. It's only been a day and I love it here already. The only thing missing
is you…and Ron, of course,” he added quickly.

A nervous giggle escaped her. “There must be something pretty special about that moon to have
you talking like that.”

“Yeah,” he replied, chuckling. “I actually tried to write a bit tonight. I made sure I was home
to watch the sunset. It was so beautiful. I've never seen the sun set over the ocean before.
It's the most spectacular sight.”

“Whaddya mean you tried to write something?”

“Well, you remember in the first note I sent, I told you I was going to find a new side of me…my
creative side?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, I meant it. I tried writing a bit tonight. The sky was so amazing that I don't think
I could've not written about it.”

“So, how did it go? Do you have it right there?”

“Yeah, it's just inside. Hang on a second,” he said, walking back into the house and
reaching for the paper. “I haven't actually read it yet. I just sort of wrote it and put it to
the side. I called you before I could read it. You think I might've been expecting you to check
it over for me? Like you used to do with my homework?”

“Read it to me,” she urged, laughing softly at his comment. “I want to picture in my own mind
what you see when you look into your sky and out over the Pacific. I've never seen the sun set
over the ocean either.”

“All right,” he replied, smiling at the sound of her laughter. He knew that was one sound
he'd surely miss over the next six months. “I'll try to read it. I don't think I
captured the way it looked though, not really. I'm not even sure it's possible. It's so
beautiful, it's just really hard to describe…especially for a guy like me.”

“Harry James Potter!” Hermione admonished. “I'll not have you putting yourself down. Even if
it doesn't describe it like you think it should, you have to keep in mind that you're only
just beginning. It'll only get better. Would you read it to me, please?”

“Well, come on, Hermione,” he exclaimed in his own defense. “You know I'm not the best with
words…not unless they come in the form of spells and curses. It's not a put-down, it's just
the truth. You know I'm right,” he added lightly.

“Read it,” she insisted. “Let me be the judge of that.”

Harry cleared his throat and started to read. “The sky is cast in the muted shades of autumn,
although the summer has only just begun. Oranges, reds, and yellows set against the darkening
yellow-orange of the setting sun fill my vision. I avert my eyes only long enough to watch as the
colors play tag with each other in the ocean waters; their hues ever-changing as one washes into
another with the rippling of the waves. They begin to fade only as the tide grows stronger and
pounds against the unprotected sands of the shore, and the sun descends farther down into the
horizon.” He paused and lowered the paper as he turned around to look through the glass doors. The
colors he'd written about were long since gone, and now he was left with the memory; he felt
he'd done a pretty fair job of preserving it. “That's the first part,” he said, after his
moment of quiet contemplation.

Hermione sniffled. “Harry, that's beautiful. I can picture it perfectly. Or, well, as
perfect as is possible considering I haven't actually seen it with my own eyes. It really makes
me wish I was there to see it with you.”

“Yeah, it makes me wish you were here to see it, too,” he said solemnly.

“Harry, can I ask you something?” she asked timorously.

Harry could hear the hesitation in her voice. “Always. What is it?”

“Why do you sound so sad?” she asked softly. “I mean, if this is something that you wanted, why
do you sound so unhappy about it? Are you sure you want to stay away that long?”

“I don't know,” he sighed. “I'm not unhappy about it really; not so much as I am lonely.
I'll admit it, its hard being this far away from you. You're my best friend. You *and*
Ron. I just miss you both, that's all. It's to be expected, don't you think? I
don't expect it'll get a whole lot easier, but I'll be all right. This is something
that I need, Hermione…not only for me, but for you and Ron as well. I need for you both to
understand that. I know that it was selfish of me to leave the way I did. But I had to go. I
wouldn't have been much good to either of you…or myself, if I'd stayed. You do understand
that, don't you?”

“Sure Harry,” she replied softly, with little conviction. “I understand. I just miss you, too. I
wish it wasn't going to be for so long.”

“It's only six months,” he replied, forcing his voice to sound light. “It'll fly by.
I'll be back and driving you mad before you know it.”

Hermione took a deep breath and sighed. “Did you say that was the first part? You wrote more
than what you read?” she asked, trying to change the subject. She no longer wanted to think about
how much she would miss him. “What else is there?”

“Let me see,” he said, grateful for the change of topic. He glanced at the paper he still held
in his hand, “Through narrowed eyes I see the ocean spray as the waves beat against the rocks. How
I wish that I was sitting there now, feeling the water as it splashes against my skin. If I close
my eyes, I can feel it cleanse me. I know it's something you…” his voice trailed away. His
silence seemed to echo across the phone line as he stared, wide-eyed at the remainder of what
he'd written. *Where did that come from?* He wondered.

“Harry, what's wrong?” Thankfully, Hermione's voice intruded upon his thoughts. “Why did
you stop?”

“I just…” he paused and looked at the paper once again, “I'm just, well, I'm trying to
figure out why I wrote something here.”

“What is it?”

Harry cleared his throat and began to read again slowly. “Through narrowed eyes I see the ocean
spray as the waves beat against the rocks. How I wish that I was sitting there now, feeling the
water as it splashes against my skin. If I close my eyes, I can feel it cleanse me. I know it's
something you would enjoy as well. If I concentrate hard enough, I can see us sitting there
together and I can hear our laughter as it echoes across the near-silent night. And I miss you even
more.”

“Wow,” Hermione exclaimed breathlessly. “That's…that's really beautiful, Harry. Who were
you thinking about?”

Harry stared at the piece of paper as though trying to figure out where exactly it had come
from, and whether or not it was really the one that he'd written on. It seemed too far out
there to have actually been written by him. “I don't know,” he said, his voice resonating with
the shock he still felt.

Hermione released another nervous laugh and Harry cocked his head and listened closely. It
lasted only a couple of seconds…not nearly long enough. “Do that again,” he said, pulling the phone
tighter against his ear as though it would help him to hear her better.

“Excuse me?”

“Laugh for me,” he replied. “Please.”

Hermione tried to laugh again and Harry immediately took notice of the difference in it. This
time she wasn't nearly as sure about what was making her laugh and it sounded just a little
more hollow, a little more uncertain than it had before. But still…there was that underlying sound
to it and he realized, in that moment, exactly who had been sitting on the rock with him.

“Why do you want me to laugh, Harry?” she asked cautiously. “It's kind of hard to just laugh
when there's nothing really to laugh about. Are you all right?”

“Yeah, I'm all right, don't worry about it. Sorry about that.” His mind was reeling from
his realization. He knew that he missed her, she was his best friend and greatest confidante…how
could he not miss her? What was troubling him most was that in his most intimate of thoughts—in his
subconscious—she was still right there, right beside him. *Has she always been?* He wondered.
It was one thing to hear her take over the voice of his subconscious on occasion…it was quite
another to actually see her beside him when, in reality, she was thousands of miles away.

“Harry, are you sure you're all right? You're awfully quiet all of a sudden.” She waited
a few seconds and when Harry didn't answer she decided on another change of subject. “So,
what've you been doing? Have you met anyone yet?”

Harry shook his head and forced himself to concentrate. *I'm just tired and feeling a bit
homesick,* he thought. *I'm sure it's only natural to think of her first.* “Yeah,”
he finally answered. “Yeah, I did meet someone. A couple of people, actually. The man who drove me
here from the airport, his name was Jim. He gave me a card with his number on it and told me if I
ever needed a lift to just give him a call. Seemed like a nice enough man.”

“Oh, well that's good. At least you have a way to get around if you need it. I'm sure
there aren't a lot of places to apparate to out there. You need to get around somehow.
Who's the other person?” she asked, her voice rising nervously.

“Her name is Tanya,” he replied. “She works for the company I'm renting the house through.
She was here when I arrived.”

“Oh,” Hermione replied, clipping the word short. “And um, and how did that go?”

“Good,” he exclaimed. “Everything was pretty much ready when I got here. The house is furnished,
there're clean linens on the bed, everything's good to go. I just have to call the electric
place tomorrow so they can change it to my name and I'll be all set, I think. I did almost hex
her when she came up behind me, though. Thank goodness I didn't have my wand on me. Who knows
what might've happened?”

“That's great,” she replied vaguely. “So, she um…” she paused and hummed a little as though
she were thinking. “What'd you say her name was again?”

“Tanya,” Harry replied, laughing. Apparently Hermione hadn't heard him admit to almost
hexing the poor girl.

“Oh, yeah, right, Tanya. I'll have to remember that, I suppose,” she mumbled. “So, she's
good at her job, huh? Got you in there, told you all you needed to know and then left you on your
own?”

“Well, not exactly,” he replied thoughtfully. “She was here for a bit, offered to show me around
the house but I turned her down. Told her I wanted to do that on my own. Not long after she left is
when I tried to call you. Oh, and tell your mum again that I'm sorry. I can't believe how
stupid that was. I felt like such an idiot!”

“Yeah, well, she's all right,” Hermione said off-handedly. “So you called me right after she
left? So what'd you do between then and now? I mean, besides watch the sunset.”

“Well, after I talked to your mum, I realized I didn't have my own phone number, so I had to
call Tanya to get it, she left me her business card, too. I also had to ask her where the nearest
store was so I could buy some food, and she ended up offering to take me in her car once she got
off work. That took a couple of hours, almost.”

“Her getting off work? You had to wait a couple of hours to find a store to get food?” she asked
incredulously.

“No,” Harry said, chuckling softly. “We spent a couple of hours shopping. I had to go to the
arts and crafts store and the grocery store. She showed me where the post office was, you know,
that sort of thing.”

“What'd you talk about? Did you learn anything exciting?” she inquired anxiously. “About the
city, I mean,” she added quickly.

“Not much, really. She spent the time asking me a bunch of questions. Oh, and get this,” he
said, chuckling softly. “You're gonna love this. Or, well, I suppose I should be hoping you
don't get angry with me, actually.”

“What happened?” she asked worriedly. “What could you have done that would make me angry?”

“Well, I sort of…well, sort of used you as an excuse.”

“Used me as an excuse?” she echoed questioningly. “An excuse for what?”

“Well, Tanya is rather young, about twenty, I'd say, and quite attractive, and I think,
well…I think she was hitting on me. She asked me if I had someone special waiting for me back home
and I…” he paused and scrunched up his face, preparing himself for the onslaught that was sure to
come. Hermione had always hated it when he lied. “Well, I thought about you, and I…well, I sort of
told her that I did, you know, have someone…I told her you were waiting for me.” He dropped his
head and closed his eyes, loosening his grip on the phone just enough to pull it away from his ear
in case she yelled.

He shook his head in confusion when the scream didn't come, and he held the phone back up to
his ear. “…that sort of distraction while you're there.”

Harry shook his head again. “Sorry? Could you repeat that, I sort of dropped the phone. I
didn't catch that.”

“I said,” she stated a little more loudly, “that it was a smart thing to do really. You
don't need that sort of distraction while you're there.”

“I was thinking the same thing,” Harry said. “That's what I told her. I said that I
didn't come here to get involved in a relationship and that I would be returning home when the
time came.”

Hermione breathed an audible sigh of relief. “What did she say to that?”

“She said you were a lucky girl,” Harry said, laughing at the memory.

“Well,” Hermione replied. “She'd be right then, wouldn't she? I would be a lucky girl.
Any girl would be, Harry.”

“Well, I'm not so sure about that, but it did seem to work with Tanya. I told her that if
she couldn't accept just being friends, there wouldn't be much for us, then,” he said
casually. “Oh. And she said she appreciated my honesty,” he added as an afterthought.

“It's one of the best things about you, Harry. You're nothing, if not honest. I'm
really glad you set her straight right off the top. But you still need to be careful. I'm sure
she's not the only girl living around there.”

“Oh, I almost forgot. I wanted to ask you something.” he said in abrupt change of conversation.
“Since I can't send letters by owl right now, is it alright if I send Ron's letters to you?
Could you just forward them on with Hedwig?”

“Of course, it's alright. I'll be here. I haven't told you yet, but mum asked
me—well, begged really— to take a year away from everything. She says I need time to recuperate
after everything that's happened. She and dad want me to stay home with them for a while.”

Harry couldn't imagine Hermione being content with that, but he also couldn't help but
to agree with her mum. “I think that's a great idea, very smart,” he replied. “I can't
really see you sitting around doing nothing for an entire year though. What're you thinking
about?”

“I don't know,” she said irritably. “I do know that after everything we've been through
over the past seven years, this is going to be my biggest challenge yet. I just can't picture
it, Harry. An entire year? Maybe after six months they'll let me off for good behavior or
something. I thought maybe I'd work out my strategy for the rights of house elves and other
enslaved creatures. And then,” she paused for a moment and Harry could just imagine the look of
frustration on her face. “And then…I just don't know. Maybe I'll work in mum's office
or something. I have to find something to do. A few more months of this and I'll go crazy.
It's barely been a few weeks as it is.”

“I'm sure you'll find something worthwhile to pass the time. That brain of yours will
conjure up some kind of trouble for you to get into.”

“Yeah, I'm sure,” she agreed, laughing. “Of course, that's what you and Ron have always
done best. I'm not sure getting into trouble is anything I can actually do on my own.”

“Excuse me?” Harry gasped in mock surprise. “Who was it who set Snape's robes on fire? Who
punched Malfoy and stormed out of Trelawney's class? Who lied to McGonagall about the troll?
Who put Rita Skeeter in a jar and managed to keep her quiet for a year? Do I need to go on?” he
asked laughing. “Because you know, I have lots more…”

Hermione laughed loudly, “No, no, no…no need to go on. Thanks though. Okay, so maybe I can find
a little trouble on my own. I do miss you and Ron though,” she sighed.

“You haven't talked to Ron?” Harry asked in surprise.

“Oh, well, Ron and I have written a couple of letters, but we've not seen each other yet.
Speaking of, maybe I'll ask him over for a day. It'd be like old times. You know, hang out,
have lunch, goof off, argue, and, of course, give you a call so you could talk to him. I think
it'd be nice to spend a day with Ron. Whaddya think? You up for a conversation with Ron?”

“Well, um,” Harry hesitated. He was suddenly feeling apprehensive about encouraging Hermione to
spend time alone with Ron. “He's um, he's still seeing Luna, right? How is she?”

“Harry?” Hermione said questioningly. “What's going on? Why they change of
subject?”

“I, well, I don't know,” Harry stammered. “I guess I didn't realize I changed the
subject. We were talking about Ron, right?”

“I guess,” she replied hesitantly. “Yes, he's still seeing Luna. And Luna is fine. Now, tell
me the truth. Why'd you suddenly ask about Ron and Luna? Why not answer my question?”

Harry's voice dropped lower as he flopped into the overstuffed chair in his living room. He
threw is leg over its arm, then sat back and sighed. He closed his eyes and tried to find the words
to describe what it was he was feeling. He found that words were awfully hard to come by when you
had no idea what exactly you needed them for.

“Harry?” Hermione's voice interrupted his thoughts. “Talk to me. Tell me what you're
thinking.”

“I just, well,” he paused and sighed again, “I don't know,” he said quickly. “Things are
just different right now and I just, well, I didn't want to think about you and Ron spending
time alone together…without me, I guess.”

“Sounds like more than that, Harry,” Hermione replied knowingly. “I can hear it in your voice.
There's something you're not telling me. And, by the way…that's actually a very selfish
way to feel, you know that, right? After all, you're the one who left without so much as a
proper goodbye. We're your best friends, Harry. We've been through a lot together. Me and
Ron spending time together shouldn't come as a shock to you…nor do you have a reason to be,”
she paused for a moment and took a deep breath, “…*jealous*. You lost any right you
might've had to that the day you ran away.”

“Hermione, I, I didn't run away. Not really, I…” Harry closed his eyes and ran his fingers
through his hair in frustration. “…okay, I ran away. But I didn't realize when I left that
it'd cost me my right to have feelings where you and Ron are concerned. Yeah, I admit it, I am
jealous. I wish I could be there. I want to be standing there next to you, or sitting on the couch
watching a movie, or…come on, Hermione. I thought you understood,” he said desperately. “I thought
that if anyone would, it would be you.”

“Why me, Harry?” Hermione asked softly.

Harry sighed. “Because it's always been you,” he replied just as softly. “No one has ever
understood me like you do. Never. I don't,” he paused and sighed again, “I don't know how
to describe it, Hermione. I wish I did. I hope that I can before I leave here. I'm doing the
best I can, you have to believe that. Please, I'm begging you, Hermione, *please*
understand.”

“I do,” she replied softly. “Just don't expect it to be any easier on me than it is on you,
all right? Yes, I have my family, and Ron isn't too far away, but Harry….” Her voice trailed
away and Harry could hear the hitch in her breathing and he knew she was struggling past her
tears.

“What is it, Hermione?” he asked quietly. He closed his eyes and unknowingly held his breath as
he awaited her answer.

“I just, I can't…”

It was so unusual for Hermione to be at a loss for words that Harry found himself sitting
upright in the chair. He released his breath and breathed deeply, expelling it slowly, as quietly
as he possibly could, so the sound wouldn't interfere with her words.

“It's just that none of them are you, Harry. They aren't. I've spent the past seven
years worrying about you, trying to protect you, and to help you…there weren't many days that I
didn't see you, not really. Just a few weeks in the summer, but I always wrote and whether or
not you wrote back, I was always sure you'd received my letters…generally, within hours of the
time I sealed them. What is there now, Harry? Now I can't see you. My letters will take days to
get to you, not hours. It's just…” she paused again and Harry heard her sniffle. He closed his
eyes and struggled against the lump rising in his throat. The tears wouldn't come. They seldom
did. But the lump…the lump was a sure sign that if he was able, he would let loose a monsoon.
“It's just not any easier, that's all.”

“I'm sorry, Hermione,” Harry responded heavily. “I truly am. I had no idea that my leaving
would matter that much to you. I didn't stop to think about how much you've given me
through the years. My only thought was how little I'd be able to give you in the coming years.
I'm sorry if that seems selfish. All I can give you now is the truth. And the truth is this…I
miss you like crazy. I miss your stubbornness, I miss the way you can make me do things I really
don't want to do, and…heck, I even miss the way you fight with Ron. All I can *give* is
the truth…and all I can *say* is that I'll be back. I'll be home before you know it.
Six months isn't that long, Hermione, not really. When you think about all the years I
should've had as a child, six months is nothing, you know?”

“I know, Harry,” she replied quietly. “And every day for the next six months, I'm going to
tell myself that I understand…and one day, Harry—one day—I'm actually going to believe it.
I'm sorry I can't give you more than that. I know you need it. And all I can say to you…is
that I'll try.”

“That's all I can ask for, and I appreciate that, I really do,” Harry replied. “I love you,
you know. You're my best friend. If it'd been left to me rather than the fates, I'd
never have found anyone as great as you are. Don't think I'm not thankful for my
blessings.” The emotions were getting to be a little overwhelming for him in his tired state so he
knew he needed to hang up before he said something he might have to answer to some day. “I'm
sorry, Hermione, but I really need to go to bed. This jet lag is getting to me. I haven't slept
in over 24 hours. I just knew I couldn't sleep until I got the chance to talk to you. Tell Ron
hi for me, okay? I'll write to him soon. To you, too.”

“Dream of me, Harry…I mean us,” she released a loud, frustrated breath and Harry couldn't
fight the smile that crept onto his face. “I mean, me and Ron. Dream of us…the three of us,” she
said slowly, speaking each word precisely. “Sweet dreams, Harry. I'm thankful for my blessings
as well. I love you, too. Goodnight.”

Harry closed his eyes and let her words hang between them for a few seconds, and he smiled.
“Goodnight, Hermione.”

-->



4. Chapter 3 - Promises
-----------------------



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….

*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*

**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.

*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*

*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**.*

*T**he 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.*

*Be**fore 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**. H**e opened h**is eyes* *and* *scanned the
sky**.* *H**e 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 allow**ing* *Harry to climb
on**to* *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 o**f 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
memo**ries 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-ex**cited 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 separat**ed* *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
play**ed* *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 a**ges**.”*

*"Ronald," a dreamy voice called from somewhere behind him. H**arry*
*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**. H**e 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.

-->



5. Chapter 3.5 - Interlude ~ Hermione's Point of View
-----------------------------------------------------



A/N: I'm viewing this as an interlude, so to speak. I've been debating for over a week
now whether or not to post this chapter to the story. A part of me wants it to remain Harry's
story…but a bigger part of me feels that it's important to know what Hermione is feeling as
well. A few people have read it and have agreed that it should be posted in some way.

This won't happen often, but at the moment, I foresee it happening at least one more time.
Hopefully you won't feel that it takes away from Harry's story. The next chapter of
Harry's story is in progress and I've been told that what's happened so far is some of
the best stuff yet. So, bear with me.

Thank you all for your wonderful reviews. I'm answering them as quickly as I can. I
appreciate each of them more than you could know.

Cheers,

Terri

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

**Interlude ~ Hermione's Point of View**

“Hermione, we're home,” she heard her mum's voice call out to her from the living
room.

Hermione stopped short of the bathroom door, “blast” she muttered softly to herself. She took a
deep breath and wiped at her tears, drying them as quickly as she could before resuming her walk
toward the bathroom. Just as she reached for the handle her mum came around the corner of the
hallway.

“Honey, we're home. What would like for…” she stopped short at the sight of her little girl.
She stepped forward quickly, forgetting completely about dinner. “O-nee,” she said anxiously,
“O-nee what's wrong? What's happened?”

Despite herself, Hermione couldn't help but to smile at the use of her childhood nickname.
When she was first learning to talk she had trouble pronouncing her name so whenever anyone would
ask she'd tell them her name was, 'O-nee`. Somehow it had stuck and her parents continued
to call her that on occasion…it was times like this she found it to be quite comforting.

“Oh, mum,” Hermione cried, turning toward her. “I don't…” she shrugged her shoulders and
shook her head, trying to dispel the tears that threatened to fall, and the lump that had caught in
her throat. “I don't know.”

Her mum closed the short distance between them and wrapped her arms around her. “You want to
talk about it?” she asked gently. Hermione nodded. “All right, why don't you go into the
bathroom and run some cool water on your face. I'm just going to talk to your dad for a minute,
I'll be right back and then we'll talk, okay?”

Hermione nodded again. “Thanks, mum.”

“That's my girl,” her mum replied with a worried smile. “I'll be right back.”

Hermione sighed and turned back toward the bathroom. She reached for the handle and slowly
opened the door, flipping the light on as she stepped inside. She stopped short and stood
transfixed before the mirror…she looked a mess. Her face was splotchy, her eyes bloodshot, and the
dried tracks of her tears stained her reddened cheeks. She took a deep breath, walked to the sink,
and turned on the cool water. She gasped as the initial shock of the cold water against the warm
skin of her face, stole her breath away. She caught her reflection in the mirror and laughed wryly.
Not only had she not washed the tears or the redness away, her bloodshot eyes had grown wide at the
shock. “They'd definitely think me ugly now if they could see me like this,” she sighed. She
rinsed her face again and, realizing things wouldn't get any better, grabbed a towel from the
shelf to dry off.

She walked out of the bathroom and returned to her room to wait for her mum. Hedwig was sitting
in her cage, the door left open so she could come and go as she pleased. The moment Hermione sat on
her bed Hedwig hopped down from her perch and glided off the dresser to land beside her.

“You miss him too, don't you girl?” Hermione said softly, running her hand over Hedwig's
head and down her back. “We'll get him back, don't worry.”

Hedwig nipped affectionately at Hermione's fingers and cocked her head toward the door.
Hermione's mum walked through it seconds later. Sensing their need to be close, Hedwig flew to
sit on the top of her cage where she could observe the two of them as they talked.

Her mum sat on the bed and raised her hand to Hermione's cheek and gently brushed some stray
hairs behind her ear. “I asked your dad to pick something up for dinner. I told him it was his
choice,” she said, grinning slyly.

Hermione smiled. “You're going to regret that, you know,” she said, shaking her head.

“Well, I needed to buy us a little time, sweetheart. He'll spend at least the next 30 - 45
minutes thinking about it and then he'll have to go and pick it up. I say we have at least an
hour to talk.” She looked down into Hermione's face. “Although, we can take more if you need
it, okay?”

“Okay,” Hermione replied, nodding her head.

Her mum began to run her fingers through Hermione's hair as she searched her eyes. “Wanna
tell me what happened? You don't cry often. It must have been something big, to make you cry
like that.”

Hermione shrugged her shoulders. “I don't know what happened. I was talking to Harry
and…”

“Oh, I see,” her mum quietly interrupted.

Hermione looked at her in surprise. “What? What do you see?” she asked anxiously. “What do you
mean by that?”

“Nothing, O-nee,” she said smiling reassuringly, her hand coming to rest on Hermione's
shoulder. “I don't mean anything by that. It's just…well, haven't you noticed?
Practically every time you've been down about something in the past seven years it's had
something to do with Harry. In fact, nearly all of your emotions, ranging from happiness to
devastation, have had to do with him. I'm just…I'm not surprised, that's all,” she
said, shrugging her shoulders. “That's all I meant.”

Hermione sat back and stared unseeingly at her mum, contemplating her words. “Do you really
think that?” she asked, her voice falling to just above a whisper. She shook her head and attempted
to refocus her gaze. “Do you really *believe* that?” she added earnestly.

“Let's talk about that later, okay? Why don't you tell me what happened with Harry
first.”

Hermione continue to gaze questioningly at her as she nodded her head. “We were talking and at
first everything was fine. We were laughing and then…then we weren't. But then we laughed
again…then things got serious and I…I started to cry,” she stammered. Her eyes had begun to water
and her voice sounded strained as she fought to make sense of her thoughts.

“Can I ask you something, Hermione?” her mum asked gently, the timbre of her voice hesitant. “It
might surprise you and, quite frankly…I'm not sure you're prepared to think about the
answer. If you don't think you're ready, that's okay. But I think that at some point it
might help you to put things into perspective…at least a little.”

Hermione sniffled and gazed at her intently. “What is it?” she asked, her voice hoarse from the
effort she was exerting to stifle her tears.

“There's no way to ask it but to ask it,” her mum said, her voice distant as though she was
speaking to herself. She placed her hand on Hermione's leg, her eyes downcast, avoiding
Hermione's intense gaze. “Are you,” she looked up and stared directly into her daughter's
eyes, “in love with him?”

Hermione jumped back as though she'd somehow been physically burned by her mother's
question. “Am I…am I…WHAT?” she asked her voice rising in disbelief.

“Don't go getting upset,” her mum cautioned. “I just, well…I can't help but to wonder if
you might be in love with him,” she said, shrugging her shoulders and trying to both look and sound
casual.

“But this is…how can I…in love?” Hermione stammered, her mind reeling with the implication.
“Mum, I'm 18! How'm I…? I don't…urgh!” Hermione sat back hard against the wall as she
fought for control of her emotions. “How could I…?” she said, her voice now soft and
questioning.

Mrs. Granger released a nervous chuckle. “All right, Hermione, it's all right. It was just…”
she paused and sighed heavily, “it was just something I had to ask.”

Hermione looked at her, a strange expression on her face. “How would I know? I mean, how would I
*really* know? Trumpets don't sound when he calls my name. Birds don't sing any
louder, the sky doesn't turn a brighter blue. Noises don't become some kind of symphony of
nature, and orchestras don't suddenly begin to play love songs. When he touches me, my skin
doesn't tingle or burn and fireworks don't explode all around us. Really, mum, how would I
know?”

“First of all, your impressions of what love is shouldn't come from some romance novel or
how-to book. It has to come from your heart. Now tell me, what happened to make you so upset
tonight?”

Hermione took a deep breath and sighed. “We were talking, you know, about everything…and
nothing. I asked him to give me his address so I could send a gift I got for him today, but before
he would give it to me he made me promise him something.”

“What was it?”

Hermione sighed again. “He made me promise that I wouldn't go looking for him.” She looked
at her mum then, her eyes willing her to agree with what came next. “But I wouldn't do that,
mum…I would never.”

“Are you sure?” her mum asked gently, unwilling to pacify her. “Given the choice between
following your head and following your heart, which would you choose?”

Hermione stared up at her again, her brown eyes a clear reflection of her confusion. “I
don't know,” she said softly. “How do I even know the message is any different between the
two?”

“Let me ask you this,” her mum replied. “If Harry had just given you his address, without making
you promise not to go looking for him, what do you think would have been the very first thought to
run through your head the moment you finished writing it down?”

Hermione reached for the paper she'd written Harry's address on and stared at it for a
moment, the information burning into her memory. She looked up at her mother, a look of devastation
on her face. “I would've thought, `now I know where to find you,'” she said softly. “And
you're right, mum. I would've wanted to go to him. But I wouldn't have,” she added in a
whisper.

“I know, sweetheart,” her mum said soothingly. “And so does Harry, I'm sure.”

“That's what he told me when I said I'd never do that to him. Well, before I said it
really. Before he told me what he wanted me to promise, he said that he knew already what I would
say. When I did promise, he just said, `thanks'. I thanked him for trusting me, and then he
said the strangest thing,” she said, her voice sounding distant as her mind drifted back to their
conversation. “He said that no matter what, he would always trust me—he said that he trusts me more
than anyone else…including Ron.”

“Wow,” her mum replied, both surprised and impressed by the honesty with which the two of them
spoke to each other.

“I asked if he could tell me what it was he didn't trust Ron with, and he said…” she paused
when her throat began to constrict and, for reasons not yet fully realized, her tears threatened to
fall once more. “He said…” she inhaled deeply, “that the only thing he didn't trust him with
was…” she looked at her mum, her eyes pleading…this time for answers.

“…me,” she finished in a choked whisper.

“…you,” her mum said at exactly the same time.

“How did you…?”

Her mum shook her head and smiled softly. “It's all in the delivery, O-nee. What else
could've gotten you so upset?”

Hermione picked up her pillow and hugged it close to her body, pressing her face into it as she
shuddered. She stayed that way for moment, until she felt her control slowing begin its return. She
took a deep breath and released it slowly. “It's just…well…I lied to him, mum. I *never*
lie to Harry. I've spent the past seven years staying true to myself where Harry is concerned.
No matter how bad things got, no matter how much I might've *wanted* to lie to him, I
would *never* allow myself to do it. That's why he trusts me, mum…that's why he trusts
me, and I broke that trust tonight. I broke it when I *lied* to him.”

“How did you lie? What did you say that was so wrong?” her mum asked, worry now tainting her
voice.

“I see,” Hermione mumbled, “I said, `I see.'”

“Is that all?”

“Yes, that's all. Isn't that enough? It was a lie.”

“Hermione, I'm sorry,” her mum said with a light chuckle, “I know this is important to you
and I'm sorry for sounding like I'm not taking you seriously, but you're going to have
to be more specific. I don't understand what you're saying.”

Hermione rolled her eyes in frustration. “After I said `I see' he asked me…he said, `do you,
Hermione? Do you really see? Because I don't, I don't see at all.' I told him that you
were calling me and that I had to get off the phone. I lied to him and he called me on it, and I…I
didn't have an answer, mum,” she cried adamantly. “I *always* have the answer, it's
what I do. It's what I'm good at. But this time…this time I didn't. And I'm lost
because I don't know where to begin the search to find it. I have no idea what book it's
in,” she said, chuckling feebly and trying to keep her voice light, as if she was telling a joke.
“I don't know what to do.”

“Hermione Jane,” her mum chided, “since when have you believed that all of life's answers
can be found in a book? I know you're trying to pass that off as a joke, but I can see in your
eyes that it isn't. I know that books have been invaluable to you throughout the years.
They're your best friends during the summers while you're home, but, like you've said,
you're 18. Would you really have me believe that you're either too young or too naïve to
understand that answers can be found in places other than books? I can assure you, O-nee, that
*this* time, the answer to *this* problem, *cannot* be found in a book,” she said
adamantly.

“Mum,” Hermione sighed, “I've hidden behind books my entire life. *Knowledge is
power*…isn't that what you and dad have always told me?”

“Her…”

“Well,” Hermione went on, ignoring her mother's attempts at trying to speak, “we needed
knowledge and power and faith to get through the battle and to defeat Voldemort. I had the
knowledge, Ron had the faith, and Harry had the power. And we succeeded. Books have *never*
failed me.”

“Hermione, listen to me,” her mum said quickly, before she could be cut off again. “Knowledge,
power, faith…those are three of your greatest assets. You alone possess those traits. You are
*not* just the knowledge side of the triangle. I'm sure that both Ron and Harry possess
all of those traits as well. It's what has made the three of you such a formidable team. Yes,
in the end, it was Harry who defeated Voldemort, but it wasn't *just* his power that did
it. It was the blending of his power, his knowledge, and his faith in combination with yours and
Ron's that culminated in the victory. In the end, not one of you gave more of any one of those
strengths then the others did. I know that,” she reached out and placed a hand on Hermione's
chin and raised her head until their eyes met, “I know that, because I know you. Don't ever
sell yourself short, sweetheart. There is far more to you than books and knowledge. You're a
beautiful young woman with countless qualities that most people only wish they could possess…myself
included. Use what you have—what you know—to find the answers you need now. Don't look in a
book, look in here,” she said, placing her hand over Hermione's heart. “You won't find them
anywhere else.”

“But I'm afraid to look there,” Hermione replied, her voice raw with untapped emotion.

“Why? What are you afraid of?”

“What if I find that I…I do love him? What will happen to me when I find out he doesn't feel
the same way? I'm not sure that's something I can deal with. When I fall in love with
someone, I want it to be forever—like you and dad. I don't want to love someone today and then
someone else next year and maybe someone else a couple of years after that. I know how valuable
love is, you've taught me that. It's what's gotten Harry through the past sixteen
years. And I know that when he finds it, he's going to want the same thing I do. But what…what
if he doesn't want it with me?”

Mrs. Granger brushed back the hair from Hermione's forehead and gave her a kiss. “Honey,
that's the chance you take with love. It's the chance we all take. But you can't let it
scare you to the point where you live your life without it.” She sat back and smacked her hands
down on her knees. “I have an idea. If you're really scared to explore one-on-one what's in
your heart, why don't you try this?” she asked, rising from the bed and holding her hand toward
a framed piece of paper on Hermione's bedroom wall. “You write so beautifully, O-nee. Pick up
your pen and let your heart speak *through* you. Sometimes it's easier to listen that way,
especially when you're scared of what your heart has to say when it's speaking *to*
you. All around this house are framed essays and poems and fragments of your past. Take a look
around Hermione, find yourself again. That's what Harry's doing, right? Maybe you should
think about doing the same. What do you say?”

Hermione stared at the framed paper on the wall and slowly began to nod her head. “Yeah,” she
said softly. “I think that's a great idea. I don't have nearly as far to go to find myself
as Harry does, but looking around, I can see that I have actually lost a part of myself over the
past few years.” She rose up from the bed and gave her mum a tight squeeze. “Thank you, mum,” she
said softly. “I love you.”

“I love you, too, sweetheart,” her mum replied. She stepped back from her daughter and smiled
conspiratorially at her once again. “Now, shall we go and see if your father has made a decision
about dinner yet?”

Hermione looked at the bedside clock. “It's only been a little over an hour. I bet he's
still sitting on the couch thinking about it,” she replied with a laugh. The amount of time it took
her father to decide something as simple as dinner had always been a long-standing joke between her
and her mother. Hermione grabbed her mum's hand and they walked out the door together in search
of Mr. Granger.

They found him lying on the couch, a soft snore assuring them that he had long since given up
thinking about what to have for dinner. Mrs. Granger smiled and led Hermione to the kitchen. “What
say we have a bit of ice cream after all that girl talk? You get that big bowl—you know the one
I'm talking about, and I'll get the spoons. We'll finish this night off right.” She
turned to Hermione and smiled. “Just don't forget to scrub those teeth really good before you
go to bed.”

Hermione laughed. “I won't, Dr. Granger,” she replied. “And thanks again. I think I'll
try to write something right after we eat, uh…dinner?”

After they finished their ice cream and cleaned up the mess in the kitchen, Hermione walked
around the house looking at the old school papers that her mum had put into frames, hoping to find
some inspiration. Just outside the door to her parents' bedroom was a frame that held two
pieces of paper. According to the dates, they were both done on the same day when she was in the
fourth grade.

Centered at the top of the first piece of paper, underlined and in capital letters, was the word
LOVE. Beneath it she'd written…

*Love is* *having someone who* *understand**s* *you even when you
don't* *know what to say**.*

She laughed at the simplicity of the statement and then looked at the second piece of paper. It
looked much like the first only the word HAPPINESS was written top, center. Beneath it she'd
written…

*Happiness is knowing* *that* *you**'ve* *found someone to love (see
love**).*

“So,” she said softly to herself, “happiness is knowing you've found someone who understands
you even when you don't know what to say.” She reached her hand up and touched the
glass…wondering at the simplicity of her ten-year-old mind. And wondering, too, just how much truth
there might be in those two simple thoughts.

She walked slowly away and just before she rounded the corner on her way to her own room, she
looked back at the framed papers. “I am going to write again,” she said resolutely. “Right after I
write a letter to Harry.”

When she got back to her room she sat down at her desk and picked up a quill and parchment—which
had become her comfort tools during her years at Hogwarts, and began to write…

*Dear Harry,*

*Hi.* *I don't know what to say* *about the way our call ended*
*tonight**. All I can do is hope that in some way you will understand, just as you always
have**…*

-->



6. Chapter 4 - Voices
---------------------



**Voices**

“Hullo?” Harry called out anxiously. “Hermione, are you there? Herm…” He waited a few seconds
and when Hermione didn't reply, he absent-mindedly pushed the button to end the call.

He sat, staring derisively at the phone as if it was the reason for Hermione's sudden
departure and he expected it to somehow rectify it. “She hung up on me,” he said in disbelief. He
thought momentarily about calling her back, in hopes that they had somehow just lost their
connection. *She said goodbye,* he thought, remembering with reluctance, her final word to
him.

He stood up and slowly walked over to place the phone back on the wall. *What happened?* He
wondered, as he replayed the last of their conversation in his head. He knew that whatever happened
hadn't made her angry so much as sad, he could sense it—or quite possibly, he could feel it…he
wasn't exactly sure which. “Well, I'll just wait for her to call me back again,” he said
aloud, forcing his voice to sound normal although he was speaking to no one but himself. “I just
hope it doesn't take long,” he added, casting the phone another derisive look.

He walked about the kitchen and the living room like a tiger trapped in a cage. The rain was
still beating down and now, in the distance, he could hear the low, rumbling sound of thunder.

“Forget it!” he said, slamming his hands down on the counter. He felt the anxiety about the way
Hermione had ended their call begin to consume him and quick, irritated glances at the phone did
nothing to ease his concern. He ran to his room to grab his coat from the closet, then he put on
his shoes and walked to the glass door, sliding it open as he went. The sudden rush of cool air
awakened him, making him feel alive. His eyes widened with excitement and even in his agitated
state, he couldn't stop the smile that spread across his face.

He stepped out onto the porch and looked out around him. From what he could see through the
driving rain, the beach appeared deserted. He walked down the deep steps and strode purposefully
toward the ocean. The cold of the rain soaked through his coat, penetrating his skin, and
stretching its icy cold fingers all the way down into his bones. He shivered violently as its first
touch instantly relieved him of any warmth he'd garnered from being inside the house.

He walked quickly toward the beach, slipping a little every now and then when his feet hit a
particularly damp spot of sand or tuft of wild grass. He maintained his balance and kept moving,
his excitement and desire to escape his escalating anxiety driving him onward.

His footprints melded into the sand as he reached the beach. The sloshing noise they made each
time he raised his foot seemed magnified through the sound of the falling rain. A thousand tiny
beats of rain in tandem with the squashing sound of his footsteps combined to make the kind of
music he could listen to forever. He looked back at the deepened imprints he'd left and watched
as the sand seemed to heal itself before his eyes, leaving barely a trace of his recent trek across
its surface.

Harry spread his arms and turned his face to the sky, letting the rain wash away all of the
negative emotions he'd suddenly found himself buried under…if only for a few short minutes. “I
love this,” he said, laughing as the cool rain cleansed his soul.

He looked across the short expanse of beach to where the tide washed ashore. He hesitated only
briefly as his aunt's voice came back to haunt him—*“Harry Potter! You will not bring that
mess into my house. Go and rinse off those shoes and find a place to stand until you dry out.
I'll not have you* *mussing* *my clean floors.”*

“Here's to your clean floors, Aunt Petunia!” he hollered as he ran forward, shoes and all,
and jumped into the oncoming waves. The cool water seeped unmercifully through his jeans,
stiffening his body in an instant. He trudged back toward the shore slowly, albeit as fast as his
cold, stiff legs could carry him. His jeans were waterlogged, his coat drenched, his shoes full of
sand and water and still he walked on…feeling lighter than he had in a very long time.

He slipped, the lapping of the waves around his ankles preventing him from maintaining his
balance, and he fell to his knees and began to laugh. He dropped his hands to the ground and
crawled the rest of the way, covering his entire body in sand. When he reached the edge of the
shoreline he struggled to stand up, his saturated clothing making the otherwise simple task seem
nearly impossible.

When he finally got to his feet, he looked down the beach as far as he could see. He cupped his
hands around his mouth and shouted, “My playground,” laughing harder at his childish, albeit
carefree outburst. His shout seemed to echo in his head…the words seeming all-too-familiar. His
laughter stopped. He stood stock-still. His arms dropped lifelessly to his sides. “My playground,”
he repeated, his voice much quieter and far less enthusiastic. He closed his eyes, as the words
continued to play in his head. “Where have I heard that?” he wondered aloud. He turned his head and
eyes skyward before his conscious mind processed what was happening. He scanned the sky
expectantly. “Buckbeak,” he whispered. “Where are you boy?”

Harry shook his head, trying to determine why he would be looking to the sky for Buckbeak. He
trudged slowly forward, away from the water. He turned to watch as the waves rolled over each other
in an increasingly brutal fight for dominance. He looked around as though expecting people to
suddenly appear on the beach. “My dream,” he whispered, casting his eyes about the beach in
anticipation. An onslaught of what he'd seen in his sleep seemed to attack him as images of his
parents and the Weasley's and all the others flashed before his eyes.

Suddenly it all seemed so real. Sirius, his parents, Hagrid, Ron and Luna, Neville and
Ginny….

A voice echoed in his head, the words and the anguish with which they were spoken driving him to
his knees. “Find me, Harry,” the distant voice called. “Find me, before it's too late.”

*Who are you**?* he asked silently. *W**here can I find you?* *When is it
too late?* He looked around, the dream images swimming before him. Everyone he loved was
there—everyone but…everyone but...

He looked around anxiously then closed his eyes and shook his head hard from side-to-side,
trying to clear his besieged mind. “Hermione!” he shouted, opening his eyes and squinting against
the pain that erupted in his head. Hermione was always there when he needed her and he needed her
now. He spun in circles, his eyes continuing their frantic search. “Hermione, where are you?”

He rose from his knees, his body shaking violently from the cold, and he suddenly felt an
overwhelming desperation. The voice in his dream continued to deluge him. Hermione's words,
*“Find me Harry,”* combined with the words of the promise he'd made to her, *“I promise
you, Hermione. I will find you. I'll find you first**.**”* All three thoughts were
thundering in his head, crashing and rolling over one another much like the ocean's waves.
Finally, mercifully, they gave up their battle for control and merged into one coherent, albeit
unbelievable thought…the voice in his dream had been Hermione's and she wanted him to find her.
She told him in his dream world, and made him promise in his reality. *Can it really be*
*a* *coincidence?* he wondered.

He put his hand to his head and closed his eyes, concentrating hard on clearing his mind.
Whatever he was thinking, wherever his mind had planned to take him, he had no intention of going.
“It's just that strange connection me and Hermione have,” he said, laughing with relief at the
sudden realization. “There isn't even anything *to* think about. I can't believe I
thought there might be more…”

*The voice in your dream sounded desperate,* his inner voice interjected.

“Only because Hermione wanted me to call,” Harry replied to it, forcing a laugh from deep within
his throat.

*Is that what this is going to be about? You lying to yourself* *and* *trying to
`find' yourself* *at the same time**? This should prove to be an*
*interesting* *journey**.*

“She wanted me to call. She wanted it. She was sending me messages and I heard them through my
dream,” he said assuredly. “She said `find me' but what she really meant was `call me,'” he
added, hoping that his logic, no matter how hard-pressed he was to find it, would be enough to
dispel the voice in his head.

Harry stood for a moment, waiting for the voice to return. When it didn't, he gave a
triumphant nod and turned a slow circle on the beach. A hesitant smile returned to his face and he
felt as though he'd somehow scored a victory against his own conscious. He blinked his eyes and
furrowed his brow as that niggling feeling returned to the pit of his stomach. “Score one for
Potter,” he said quietly, placing his hands on his lurching stomach. His heart suddenly felt
weighted with doubt.

He lowered his head and walked slowly back across the sand to his house. He climbed the steps,
holding fast to the railing as his jeans clung heavily to his legs, making it difficult for him to
raise them. When he got to the door, he reached for the handle, his hand finding nothing but air.
He looked sharply at the open door. His senses on high alert, he put all of his worries behind him
and crept stealthily through the door and into the house. He looked around fervently, noting that
nothing appeared to be out of the ordinary in either the kitchen or the living room. He quietly
slid the door closed and locked it. He slipped off his wet shoes to prevent them from squeaking
when he walked across the floor.

Slowly, his eyes peeled for any type of movement, he crept to his room. He walked straight to
the table beside his bed and grabbed his wand. He waved it across his body and instantly his
clothes were dry and warm against his skin…although the chill inside him still lingered. As quietly
as he could, he removed his jacket to allow himself more freedom of movement. He walked all around
his room and, finding nothing out of the ordinary, he silently walked through the door and all
around the rest of the house. Everything looked as it did when he'd left.

He flopped down into the armchair and breathed a tremendous sigh of relief. He cast his eyes
toward the door and studied it, trying to remember whether or not he'd closed it when he left.
Determining that he must have left it open, he silently cursed himself for being so easily
distracted…and so much on edge.

He laid his head back against the chair and closed his eyes. Trudging through the sand, rain,
and water had exhausted him and in no time he found himself in the midst of yet another dream…

*Much like t**he dream that had gotten him to* *his lonely beachside*
*retreat**, he found himself* *standing in the middle of a darkened room, surrounded by
doors leading nowhere. He was shouting, “What now? What happens now?”* *His voice echoed
around him in an endless parade of shouts. He dropped to his knees**,* *placed his hands
over his ears,* *and* *begged for the noise to* *stop.*

*He started when he felt the gentle* *touch* *of a hand on his shoulder. He raised
his head.* *Mercifully, t**he noise* *was gone**.* *He blinked as a
soft,* *subtle* *glow* *cut through the darkness and enshrouded him* *with its
light**.* *He didn't look behind him**, fearing she would vanish**…he
wasn't prepared to* *let her go**. Instead, h**e placed his hand over the one on
his shoulder and* *tenderly* *caressed* *the* *back* *of it* *with
his thumb. He squeezed he**r* *fingers and laid his head down upon his shoulder, reveling
in the nearness of her.*

*“Follow your heart,” she said, her voice* *light and airy,* *as t**hough it
had drifted to him on the wind.*

*“I'm trying,” he replied softly. “It's confusing to me.”*

*“What do you want, Harry?”*

*“To find myself.”*

*“And after that?”*

*Harry sighed and closed his eyes. “Someone to love?” It was a question more than a statement
and he was surprised to hear himself ask it.*

*“What if you discover them together? If one completes the o**ther. Are you prepared for
that possibility?”*

*“How would that work? If I don't know me, how could I give myself to someone else? I
don't think it matters if I'm prepared for the possibility**…not when what you ask
isn't possible.”*

*“You've come here to discover a part of yourself. To find what you feel is missing. What
is it that you want to know, Harry? What is it that you're really looking for?”*

*“A way to express myself. A way to show that I'm alive. I've never felt alive, not
really. I want to feel at* *peace with myself. I've done nothing but fight. With the
Dursley's I fought for my sanity and for just one ounce of self-worth**…just one.*
*For the past seven years, I've literally had to fight for survival. I'm 17 and I've
spent nearly my entire life* *fighting**.* *I don't want to fight anymore. I
just want to live…I just want to be free.”*

*“Do you think that being free and having someone to love are two separate ideals? Harry, I
understand that you are young. I understand that you are hurting and that you need to*
*discover* *who you are. And I understand that its hard for you to let someone into your
heart…I mean, completely into your heart. What I don't understand,” she moved to stand in front
of him, “son, is why you feel that you can have only one or the other. There is love out there for
you. You've seen it. You've felt it. And its waiting, son.* *It's* *waiting
for you.”*

*Harry stared at the figure before him, unable to believe* *she was standing before*
*his eyes. She knelt* *in front* *of* *him,* *and* *placed* *her
hand* *on his knee. He looked into her eyes, so much like his own. “Mum?” he whispered
hoarsely. “How did…where did…?” he stammered.*

*She reached a hand up to gently caress his cheek.* *She brushed his hair back from his
forehead and lovingly traced his scar.* *She leaned forward and kissed it before she looked
into his eyes and spoke again.* *“Never mind son, save those questions. This isn't about
me and how I came to be here. This is about you. For once, Harry, it's all about you.
There's no one left to save, son…no one but you**rself**,” she said softly, the pain
in her eyes nearly bringing him to tears.* *She moved her hand from his* *scar* *to
his heart. “**And, naturally, the young woman who has* *taken residence in your heart,”
she said on a choked whispered.*

*Harry placed his hand over hers. “You're the only woman who's ever lived there,” he
said honestly. “How do I know who else to look for?”*

*With her other hand, Lily reached up and wiped a tear from her eye. “**W**hen you
are ready, you will know. I'm here to tell you only this…don't* *ignore* *the
message**s* *of your heart. For years, your heart has spoken `through' you…now,
it's ready to speak `to'* *you. All I ask is that you listen, Harry. Just
listen.”*

*“How long will you be here for?” Harry asked anxiously. “Can I call on you? Will you answer
me? Or, will you disappear the minute I wake up?* *Will I remember this?**”*

*“I've always been here, Harry. Sometimes the voices you hear don't belong to those
who are living. Sometimes they belong to those of us who refuse to truly die,* *to those of us
who* *remain behind* *to* *watch over you**…so we can guide you, just as
I'm doing now. Your father and Sirius are here for the same. Together, we'll guide you.
Always believe that. We love you, son.**”* *She ruffled his hair affectionately and
pulled him into her arms. “You will remember, Harry. When you need to, you will remember
everything.”*

*“I…” Harry closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, letting all of his emotions pass through him
in that* *release of* *breath. “I love you…”*

Somewhere in the distance Harry heard the loud trill of a bell and slowly he began to shake
himself awake, his heart beating rapidly with the shock of the sudden noise. “Mum?” he muttered,
reaching his hand out to touch her once more. The bell continued to sound. Her image began to fade,
a soft, angelic smile alighting her beautiful face. As he watched her fade away, Harry finally
shook himself from the last remaining vestiges of his dream.

His eyes followed the noise to where the phone continued to ring upon the wall. Two rings later
and Harry ran for it, fumbling with it as it slipped out of his hands.

“Hullo? Hullo? Hermione? Are you there?” he cried eagerly into the phone.

“Hey,” the voice on the other end said loudly. “You sound mighty English, what with that accent
and all. You from England?

“London, yes,” Harry said hesitantly. “Is there something I can do for you?”

“I'm looking for Kristin,” the voice on the other end of the line articulated slowly. “Is
Kristin there?”

“I'm sorry,” Harry said dejectedly. “There's no Kristen here, you have the wrong
number.”

“Well, this is the number I've got,” the voice replied. “Can you tell me what number I
dialed? Maybe I dialed it wrong.”

“Yeah, it's um…” Harry paused to find the paper he'd been staring at earlier,
“574-2182.”

“Oh, I did dial it wrong. I have 574-5182 written down here. Sorry for the intrusion. Hope I
didn't interrupt anything.”

“No problem,” Harry sighed.

They both hung up the phone and Harry stared at it. “Hermione, where are you?” he said quietly,
falling heavily back against the wall.

He looked up at the clock and realized with great annoyance that only a few hours time had gone
by. His art supplies weren't due to arrive until tomorrow, and he had a whole lot of today left
to burn.

“I need a shower,” he mumbled, pulling himself off from the wall.

Harry walked back to his room to take a long, hot shower. The water felt like warm rain as it
washed over him. He closed his eyes and let his mind drift away. Thoughts of his dream and of his
mum's words traveled gently across his mind. There were no harsh invasions, no epiphanies,
no…anything, just the feel of the water and comforting thoughts of his family.

After twenty minutes or so he reluctantly made his way out from beneath the steady, warm flow of
a thousand tiny `rain' drops. As he was climbing out, he narrowly avoided stepping into the
sand that had pooled at the bottom of the shower. He thought briefly of cleaning it Aunt
Petunia's way, on his knees with soap and a sponge. He chuckled and waved his hand at the mess
with a scoff. “Later,” he mumbled.

After getting dressed, he walked back to the living room to get his wand. He took it to the
bathroom and flicked it in the direction of the shower, “*S**courgify*,” he said loudly.
He smiled at the mental image of his aunt always down on her knees scrubbing and cleaning one thing
or another. It was an image that, if he allowed himself to shift it just enough, would alter its
façade and show Harry a picture of himself doing that very same thing…from the time he was old
enough to hold a sponge. He closed his eyes and cringed. “You do it your way, I'll do it mine,”
he muttered, waving his wand once more for good measure.

He walked to the kitchen to fix a late lunch and eyed the pens and paper that lay strewn across
the counter. *“…don't ignore the messages of your heart. For years, your heart has spoken
`through' you…now, it's ready to speak `to' you. All I ask is that you listen,
Harry**.”* He contemplated his mother's words as he ate, he couldn't help but
wonder if his heart had a message for him now.

He put on his coat and grabbed the paper and a pen from the counter. He stepped out the sliding
glass door and sat down at the table. The pitter patter of the rain on the roof of the porch
chilled him. It was the first time he could remember being so in tune with the different sounds of
something so simple as the rain.

His mind drifted back to his time on the beach and he began to write…

I watched as the sand on the beach seemed to heal itself today. Footprints, the only evidence of
my existence within that infinitesimal space of time, vanished behind me almost immediately as I
continued my journey across its surface. Is that what life is like? As we move forward, do the
traces of what we left behind disappear? Are they forgotten? If so, how quickly? Do the things we
step on along the way heal as quickly as the beach did today? What then are we left with, when all
we have is before us and yesterday lies forgotten?

I don't want to look back. There's so little in my past that I want to remember…so
little worth remembering at this point. My healing will take longer then the sand, I know that, the
question now is…Will it come in time? And, will it be as complete as the healing sand or will there
always be an outline, a shadow, or a trace to remind me?

I'm feeling melancholy now. Saddened by all that I've seen…yet emboldened by all that I
haven't. So much more lies ahead then what could ever be left behind. I just have to find the
path that gets me there. So many questions and so few answers…and now I wonder—

Do I really have to find them alone? I've always thought so…until now.

Harry closed his eyes and concentrated hard on his mother's image…

*Are you out there, mum? Can you hear me? Do you know my thoughts? Can you feel this*
*seemingly* *infinite sadness?*

*If you can, don't worry. It'll pass, the same way it always has…silently and swiftly.
Now that I know you're with me and I can feel you surrounding me, the light will speed toward
me faster…or, I toward it. Either way, this darkness will pass.*

Harry smiled when he imagined the feel of his mother's comforting hand on his shoulder.

He opened his eyes and looked out at the world around him. He had no idea how long his eyes had
been closed or how long he'd been sitting outside. The sky had become darker and thunder
rumbled low across the sky. A crash and the dark became light, as a sheet of lightning crackled
across the sky. There were no lightning bolts formed like the scar on his forehead. Here, the
lightning blanketed the sky and for brief moments, shadowed images flashed around him.

He sat for a while watching the storm. Then he went inside to sit at the counter and write just
a little more…

I've never much cared for storms…the loud, wet, chaotic scenes that they are. But tonight,
tonight I see it differently. There is a lot more to a storm than just thunder, lightning, wind,
and rain. It's a pattern of sights and sounds that when put together in the right way, became
an awesome display of power. This is nature at its finest. There are no battles for control; the
elements work in tandem, each of them a braggart in their own right as they perform.

The rain beats against the roof, the wind whistles through the cracks, the thunder roars, and
the lightning crashes. A symphony of sounds that culminates in a show of light, only to repeat over
and over as the storm rages on.

I wish you were here to watch with me. I wonder what you'd think of it. Would you be scared?
If you were, would your hand in mine bring you comfort? I think that's important, don't
you? Finding someone who can offer you comfort when you're scared or companionship when
you're lonely.

Lonely…that's a lonely word isn't it?

Harry dated his paper, set his pen on the counter, and straightened the mess in front of him. He
didn't want to go back and read what he'd written. It was done, it was over, and he would
revisit all of it when the time came. He wasn't sure he wanted to dwell on any of it
anymore.

He stood from his stool and, out of what felt like habit at this point, glanced at the phone on
the wall. A number 1 flashed repeatedly back at him. He slowly walked over to it, his eyes focused
solely on the flashing red number. He studied it for a moment and found the word `play' and
pressed the button.

A beep indicated he had a message and the voice on the machine told him the date and time
he'd received it. Harry waited anxiously for what came next…

“Harry, it's me. I guess you're not there now, huh? I'm sorry I missed you. It's
late here, and I really shouldn't be on the phone but I just didn't feel right about the
way I left things earlier. I don't know what to say, Harry, other than I'm sorry. I had a
long talk with mum tonight and, well…I just…” she paused and sighed. “Maybe its better that
you're not there. There are things I want to say, but really…I don't know where to begin.
Love you, Harry. I hope you're not too angry with me for leaving you the way I did, I'm not
sure I could take that. We'll talk soon.”

Harry reached for the phone and dialed her number. His finger hovered above the `talk'
button. He looked at the clock on the wall and realized that it'd been over an hour since she
called him. His hand shook as he reluctantly placed the phone back on the wall. He closed his eyes
and dropped his head, resting his forehead against his hand where it still held tight to the
receiver. He sighed as a fleeting thought entered his mind…

*Wh**en* *did thoughts of Hermione* *start making the* *loneliness*
*seem lonelier?*

-->



7. Chapter 5 - Letter Writing
-----------------------------

**Letter Writing**

Harry’s hand slipped from the phone as a lone tear drop fell upon the counter beneath it. He
raised his head and let his hands fall heavily to the counter. He stood staring at the small wet
circle until, in frustration, he abruptly wiped it away. He released a noise somewhere between a
groan and a sigh and pushed himself back from the counter.

He walked around the house, going from room to room, trying to find something to occupy his
mind. He went to the kitchen to find a snack, looking through the cupboards and the
refrigerator…nothing looked good. He walked to the TV and opened the cupboard that housed the
movies…nothing caught his eye. He snatched up the remote control and flopped down into the
armchair. Flip, flip, flip…over one hundred channels flew by in a matter of minutes. He shut the TV
off, tossed the remote to the coffee table, and sat back in the chair. He looked around the room
anxiously, hoping something, *anything* would take his mind off of whatever was happening to
him.

His legs shook restlessly and his fingers drummed against the arms of the chair. After only a
few minutes, unable to take it anymore, he slammed his hands down, jumped up from the chair, and
began pacing back and forth, reminiscent of the way he’d spent his time earlier that morning.

He walked to the sliding glass door and stepped outside. It was the first time he’d actually
noticed how cold it was without the exhilarating feeling that generally accompanied it. The cool
wind blowing in from the ocean brought little to no comfort in his current state, and that bothered
him almost as much as everything else had that evening.

He paced the length of the porch, trying to clear his mind. He took deep breaths, counted to
twenty, and then stopped everything when the thought of chanting crossed his mind. “This is
ridiculous,” he muttered. He walked back to the door and slipped inside the house.

He looked around restlessly, his eyes searching for something to do. He walked over to the
stereo cabinet and opened it up. He grabbed the remote and flipped on the radio as he made his way
back to the chair. The radio was set on a station that played older music, and to his surprise the
music seemed to have a calming affect his anxiety.

It was familiar to him. Not the song per se, but the sound, the style. It was with shock and
mild annoyance that he realized it was his aunt’s kind of music. It was the stuff she’d listen to
when Uncle Vernon wasn’t around. He remembered catching her staring off into seemingly nowhere and
wondering what she found there. He tried asking her once, in his younger years, but she snapped at
him and sent him to his cupboard with threats of a whipping the next time he dared question her
that way. It was one of the last efforts he made to bond with her one-on-one.

He made to change the station in hopes it would change his thoughts with it. He didn’t want to
think about his aunt; he was tired of her finding a way into his life, even from thousands of miles
away. Instead of changing it, he decided to exorcise himself of as much of his aunt and her family
as he could. He stood up and returned to the stool at the counter to write her a letter….

*Dear Aunt Petunia,*

*I don’t know why I’m here. Why I’m writing this letter to you. You’ll probably tear it up
before you even open the envelope. But you know what? That’s okay. I’m going to imagine that you’ve
opened it and that you’ve accepted my words because it’s the only way I know right now to start my
life moving in the right direction.*

*I’ve walked around this house and in nearly every little thing, I see a part of you. The dirt
on the floor of the shower, the grocery bags on the floor by the kitchen, the t-shirts in the
dresser drawer…you’re everywhere. I find myself in a constant state of defiance and I’m hoping that
by writing this letter, I can let go of it. I can’t move forward if I keep looking back, and life
with you is a definite part of ‘looking back’ that I don’t need right now…at least not with the
anger I seem to associate with it.*

*I’m sorry, not in the apologetic sense, but in the ‘I wish it could’ve been another way’
sense, for being forced upon you. They say that I have some kind of special powers, that I’m one of
the most powerful of ‘my kind’ in the world. But I wasn’t powerful enough to save my parents and to
save you from having to raise me in their place. Believe me; I would’ve preferred to be with them
as much as you hated me for being with you. Sometimes I even wish I’d died with them that night,
although I’m sure I’ve never wished that as strongly as you have over the years. I know you never
loved me; I can accept that, although I’ll never understand it.*

*It was my destiny to destroy Voldemort and to bring life back to ‘my’ world…yours too, truth
be told. You just never realized it. Or, maybe you did. I don’t know. In some ways, I know that you
helped that along. Life with you over the summers seemed to lessen, to some degree, my fear over
what was happening with Voldemort. The way your family treated me often gave me something else to
occupy my mind, if only for brief moments at a time.*

*Maybe I sound bitter…I have a right to be if you think about it. But I’m not, not really. Not
anymore. Right now, in this very moment, although you’ve never asked for it, I offer my forgiveness
for the years of hell you and your family put me through. I’m letting go of the anger and leaving
that part of me behind.*

*Thanks, Aunt Petunia. Thanks for teaching me to appreciate the good things that come along. I
know now that I have to treat my friends well and that I need to take the time to let them know how
much they mean to me. And, to let them know how thankful I am that they’ve stood by me through the
years.*

*Some of life’s lessons are tough, but I’m slowly learning that a lot of good can come from
them.*

*Forgiveness is all I have to give you and, although you may not feel there is anything to
forgive, I give it with my entire heart. I’m breaking free of the shadow of what lay behind, and
I’m slowly finding the light that I’m hoping will soon blind me in its brilliance.*

*Goodbye, Aunt Petunia. I pray you take my memories with you.*

*I wish you well,*

*Harry*

Harry read and reread the letter until he could no longer tell if it was what he wanted to say
or not. He volleyed back and forth, wondering if he’d articulated himself in a way that would
really sound as though he was forgiving. He wanted to believe he was…he needed it. By the fifth
reading, he wasn’t sure anymore if he was coming across as intended. He knew that if it didn’t
sound that way to him, it certainly wouldn’t sound that way to his aunt.

Rather than dwell on it any further, he folded the letter and shoved it into an envelope. He
sealed it and carefully printed out the address for Number 4 Privet Drive. He didn’t leave a return
address. He knew he’d never hear back from her and, while it saddened him a little, he was fine
with that. If the letter got lost in the mail that would be all right, too...he was already
assuming she wouldn’t read it so it really didn’t matter what happened to it. In his mind, he could
see her open it and read his every word. And, regardless of whether or not she wanted to, she would
find herself grateful for his willingness to forgive. If nothing else, he knew…his imagination was
in fine working order.

He pulled a stamp from the book he’d gotten at the grocery store and stuck it on the envelope.
The letter would be placed in the mail box first thing in the morning and with it, he prayed, would
go his memories.

He immediately reached for another piece of paper and began a letter to Ron…

*Dear Ron,*

*How’ve you been? I’m doing all right. I’ve talked to Hermione a couple of times; she tells me
you’re still with Luna. That’s fantastic! I hope that means all is well with you.*

*I don’t know if you will have talked to Hermione in the time it takes for this letter to get
to you, but in case you haven’t, I’ll tell you as much as I can about where I am. Just as with
Hermione, I’m going to ask that you promise not to come looking for me. I need this time…more then
even I realized when I left. I wish I could explain it, I just don’t understand it enough to put it
into words.*

*I’m living in the United States. A small, ocean-side town called Bandon, in the State of
Oregon. I’ve rented a two-bedroom beach house for the next six months. It’s magnificent here. You’d
like it. Maybe when Luna graduates we can grab Hermione and take a group trip this way. I’m sure
they’ll both like it quite a lot. It’ll be well worth it, mate. A bloke could fall in love in a
place like this…if you haven’t already, that is! Does she have you wrapped around her finger yet?
(Just kidding)!*

*We could stay here for a month or so. I’ll pick up the tab. What do you think? The Pacific
Ocean is amazing. I’ve only walked the beach once, but the view from my porch is unbelievable. We
might have to find another place to stay though. Can you imagine Hermione and Luna sharing a room?
Not sure that’s such a good idea. Guess we’ll work that out when the time comes. There may be a
bigger house available somewhere close by. I know someone I can ask about that, so I’ll be sure to
check it out before I leave.*

*I met a woman, Tanya. She works for the property management company I rented the house
through. She was here when I got to the house. You should see her, mate. Wow! Not sure if Luna
would appreciate your meeting her though—she could be part Veela. (Just kidding)! I’m not sure how
old she is, but I don’t think she’s too much older than we are, she looks young.*

*I can’t tell if I’m a really stupid guy or if something’s going on that I just don’t
understand. She was flirting with me a bit last night and you’ll never guess what I did. She asked
me if I had someone waiting for me back home and immediately Hermione popped into my head! I told
her ‘yes, someone is waiting for me’. How’s that for crazy? Where the bloody hell did that thought
come from? I didn’t want to take it back though. I told Tanya it was friends or nothing and I meant
it. I’m eighteen, Ron (or, nearly anyway)…that can’t be normal, can it? I told Hermione what
happened and she seemed to be fine with it (I thought she might get a bit mad). I couldn’t tell her
I was questioning my own sanity though…who knows how she would’ve taken that bit of news!*

*I’m on a mission and I’ve decided there’s no time for a relationship right now. I know that
probably sounds stupid and so unlike the Harry you know, but it’s the truth. I have to find out who
I am…or, at least learn something about who I want to be. I’ve been trying my hand at writing. I
haven’t done much, but I’m just starting out you know. I’m sure I’ll be doing it a lot more. I
ordered some art supplies, they should be here tomorrow. I don’t know what I expect to find, but I
can’t seem to shake the feeling that something is missing…maybe I’ll find it, whatever it is. I
hope so.*

*I wish that I could tell you my dreams and the things that I’ve been feeling, but that’s
really never been our thing, has it? I’m not sure I could do it if I tried. I’m just…confused, I
guess. Maybe I’ll find a way in another letter sometime down the line. Or, maybe I’ll actually get
it all figured out myself sometime soon. Now that would be a welcome discovery.*

*I’m trying something new tonight…letter writing. Remember I told you a bit about the
Dursleys, the way they treated me like a house-elf? Well, it seems that everywhere I look, I’m
reminded in some way of my aunt. Scary thought, isn’t it? Well, I’ve just written her a letter, I’m
hoping it will exorcise the Dursley demons once and for all. Offering forgiveness where it hasn’t
been asked might not count for much overall, but I’m counting on it freeing me of the anger that
comes with my memories.*

*Enough talk of them! There’s something I want you to know. Regardless of the way I’ve acted
recently, you’re still the best mate a bloke could have. I’m thankful, Ron, I really am…for your
standing by me over the years and for your willingness to see me and the battle through to the end.
Your friendship has helped me to survive many hardships and that means more to me than you could
know. It’s hard sometimes to put feelings into words, so I’m not sure you’ll get the full meaning
of what I’m trying to say. All past differences aside, I’m going to be there for you, Ron. The same
way you’ve been there for me.*

*I suppose I’ve rambled on long enough, haven’t I? The sentimental stuff freaking you out yet?
(Yes, I can see that look on your face). I’ve written all of this and still feel as though I’ve
said nothing aside from telling you how thankful I am that you’re still my best mate. It’s really
too bad Snape’s essays couldn’t have been letters like this. Aside from my hand cramping up, this
has been pretty easy.*

*Take care of yourself, Ron, and tell Luna hi for me. I miss you both. Be sure to keep in
touch with Hermione; she misses you and she needs you now. I think about her often, more often then
I probably should, and I miss her a lot, but neither of those things will bring her comfort or keep
her company. I’m not asking you to spend all of your spare time with her, just please don’t forget
about her. Maybe you and Luna can visit her together sometime…I’m sure she’d like that. She has
Hedwig until I return…put her to use or she’ll go crazy!*

*Well, my friend, I’m going to end this letter. I can’t seem to shake the image of a certain
brown-eyed, bushy-haired girl we both know. Makes me think it’s time for bed so I don’t have to
think about anything anymore. I hope to hear from you soon. I’ll write again.*

*Your friend,*

*
Harry*

Writing, he was quickly discovering, was very therapeutic. He felt a lot better after writing
the letters. A small part of his anxiety seemed to melt away with each word he wrote. He decided to
see if he could write something else. Something that might help him to understand what was going on
with Hermione and his constant thoughts of her. His favorite place to write that way was outside,
on the porch. He grabbed his coat and when he looked at his shoes, he rolled his eyes and laughed.
They were sitting in the same place where he’d taken them off after coming in from the storm, and
they were filthy. He went to get his wand and did a quick cleaning spell on them. When he slipped
his feet into them they were warm, clean, and dry. He grabbed some paper and a pen, flipped on the
porch light…dimming it slightly with his wand, and stepped out into the chilly night air.

The storm had passed, taking most of the dark clouds with it. Stars were now shining down as
though they hadn’t been hidden at all. Thoughts of Hermione filled his mind as he sat down and this
time, he let them. He felt somehow that, at least for the moment, the only way he would ever
understand their meaning was to stop fighting against them.

Harry poised his pen above the paper and stared up into the sky. The stars were twinkling and
the sliver of moon that he could see shone softly, the rest cast in shadow…the only indication that
there might still be a lingering cloud above him. The wind coming off the ocean was cool, just as
it had been during the storm. It was gentle now, no longer battling with nature’s elements. The air
was humid, thick with the heady scent left behind by the falling rain. It was the humidity that
kept the night from being too cool and what kept him comfortable as he sat staring at the stars. He
looked down at the paper with ever-present thoughts of Hermione and one final thought of the
Dursleys on his mind. He began to write…

Thoughts about Hermione: a first attempt at sorting them out.


They say you're always welcome at home. That's how I always knew that the Dursley's
was never really where I belonged. That only leaves two places for me now. The Burrow...and
anywhere you are. I know I'm always welcome at Hogwarts, but Hogwarts could never be a home
without you there. So now I wonder, where would my home be tonight? Are you curled up in your bed?
Sleeping peacefully, as you wait for a new day to begin? Or have you gone somewhere else tonight?
Wherever you are, I am with you. Can you feel me?


Do you know how much I miss you? It’s painful for me to know that I can’t be there to comfort
you when now is when you likely need me most. You’ve always been my source of strength, but I know
I need to learn to be my own source. I’m working on that, but it doesn’t ease the pain that always
seems to accompany my thoughts of you.


The sun will soon be rising where you are and I wonder…will you see the same colors in your
rising sun that I see in mine as it sets? As you awaken and the world around you is welcoming the
sounds of a brand new day, my world begins to sleep, welcoming the quiet sounds of the night. As
your dreaming ends, mine begins. Will my dream start where yours ended? Is it possible for us to
share one dream with so many miles between us?


The sun rises for you as it sets for me. But for a while, a few short hours, I look up at the
moonlit sky and I am at peace. Everything feels right the moment I remember...the moon I am awed by
at this very moment is the same moon you watched rise just a few short hours ago. I am reassured by
the sight of it that you are never truly far from me. Miles mean nothing when we share the same
sun, moon, and stars.


Again, I wonder...


Are we thinking the same thing as we cast our eyes toward the heavens?


I’m scared, Hermione. It’s only been a couple of days and I’m already wondering how I’m going to
make it without you. Is this what love feels like? Is it the pain in my chest that overwhelms me
when I think about you, or is that only there because I miss you? In seven years I’ve never been
happy when I’ve had to be away from you. Why am I just now realizing that? This isn’t what I
wanted. It’s not what I’m looking for. I can’t ever tell you.


This can’t be love, it hurts too damn much and it’s too confusing. It must be the dreams I’ve
been having…it’s all just too much for me right now. If only I could talk to you about it. No one
understands me quite like you do.

Harry read the paper. Something he swore he wouldn’t do since he read the first one he wrote to
Hermione. He scoffed at what he’d written and balled it up in his hands. He held tightly to it,
squeezing it into a small ball. “When did I become so bloody sentimental?” he muttered. “Damn it.
Why can’t I just be left in peace?”

He knocked the chair over as he rose abruptly from the table. He stepped to the side and raised
his hand, the chair righted itself instantly. He took the crumpled piece of paper and his other
supplies and walked back into the house, slamming it all down onto the counter. The sound of music
caught his ear as he reached for the door. He listened intently for a moment, some guy was singing,
*“but you left me here, just when I needed you most.”* The irony was not lost on him and shook
his head.

He closed the door and locked it before kicking off his shoes. He grabbed the crinkled up piece
of paper and flattened it out as best he could before putting it with the others. Sentimental or
not, he couldn’t bring himself to throw the page away. He grabbed his wand and pointed it at the
paper, the wrinkles disappeared, leaving the paper looking good as new.

He glanced at the clock and saw that it was 10:00. Earlier than he normally went to bed, but he
wasn’t going to complain. The day had been nothing short of overwhelming and he was anxious for it
to end. He made his rounds, checking that the doors and windows were locked. He turned off the
radio which was now playing a song about, *“if you leave me now, you’ll take away the very heart
of me,”* he sighed and then headed for his room. He changed his clothes and slid between the
sheets. He rested his head against the pillow and laid there, his eyes refusing to close.

He shifted from side to side, back to stomach…out of the covers, under the covers…head on the
pillow, head under the pillow…one leg out, the other in—nothing worked. He lay on his back and
forced his eyes to close…one, two, three, four, five…counting snitches didn’t help either. He sat
up in bed and flipped on the light. His eyes immediately went to the photograph beside the bed. He
picked it up and stared intently at himself and Hermione. *Could it be?* he wondered.

He set the picture back down on the table and rose slowly from the bed, flexing his fingers as
he walked back toward the kitchen. He picked up another piece of paper and began to write once
more…

*Dear Hermione,*

*What is there to say? Can you read my mind? You’ve always known my thoughts better than I
have. Please, tell me what I’m thinking…*

{+}{+}{+}{+}{+}{+}{+}{+}{+}{+}{+}{+}{+}{+}{+}{+}{+}{+}{+}

Hermione sat on her bed, it was way past the time she should have been sleeping. It was almost
morning. Her parents would be waking soon. She was just finally finishing the letter for Harry that
she had been working on all day and night.

*…now that you know, Harry.* *Is there a chance we could be thinking the same
thing?*



8. Chapter 6 - A Talk
---------------------



**A Talk**

Harry finished the painstaking process of writing Hermione's letter. Emotionally, he was
exhausted. Physically, he had no idea how he felt. He set the letter on the counter and went to the
kitchen for a drink of water and two envelopes…one large, one small. On the small envelop he wrote
Ron's name and slipped his letter inside. He sealed it and placed it inside the larger envelope
he'd addressed to Hermione.

He yawned as he mindlessly picked up and folded Hermione's letter before putting it into the
envelope along with Ron's. He then sealed it without another thought. He put a few extra stamps
on it and smiled at the memory of the letter Mrs. Weasley had sent covered with postage stamps to
the Dursleys the summer before his fourth year. He chuckled and placed the letter on top of Aunt
Petunia's so he wouldn't forget to take it out to the mailbox the following morning.

He yawned again, grateful for his sudden tiredness. He grabbed his plastic cup of water and cut
the lights as he headed to his room. He barely had time to crawl between the sheets before a
blissfully dreamless sleep overcame him.

When he awoke a few hours later it was still dark outside. He checked the clock beside his
bed…4:30. He rose feeling refreshed and invigorated, excited to see the sun rise above the Pacific
Ocean. He went to the bathroom to splash water on his face and brush his teeth before padding
through the house in his bare feet toward the kitchen to make coffee. A cup of coffee and the
sunrise over the ocean sounded like a perfect way to start the day.

He wasn't sure what time the sun rose but now that he was awake he could see that the sky
wasn't nearly as dark as he had originally thought. He ran to his room to put on warmer clothes
and grabbed a spare blanket from the closet before returning to the kitchen for his coffee. He took
his blanket and stepped out into the soft gray light of morning, signifying the dawn of a new
day.

He sat down on the top step of his porch, the blanket spread across his legs, steam from the
coffee cup he held in his hand swirled away with the morning breeze. The morning sky was lightening
and the objects around him were slowly becoming more than just abstract shapes. He could vaguely
see the low-lying brush and the wild grass that changed his view from green to brown as his eyes
made their way to the sandy beach. Green and brown, natural colors, the colors of the earth. Two
colors that live cohesively and blend together like no two others. Brown, the color of her eyes.
Green, the color of his. Two people walking on the same path, their destinies intermingled, blended
like colors of the earth.

Blue…Ron's eyes? He couldn't remember the color of Ron's eyes. He wasn't sure
he'd ever noticed them before. He'd spent a lot of time over the years looking at Hermione,
studying her, trying to figure her out. With Ron, he just sort of listened without really paying
attention to details like that. In that moment he wanted to believe they were blue and that
together the three of them made the perfect blend of all that is natural…all that is nature.

*It's funny really,* he thought, *brown and green together create a solid foundation.
Blue* *could* *either* *look down* *on them from above or form the
waters…neither of which offered the solidity of green and brown. Brown and gr**een fuse
together until it appears as though one cannot exist without the other. The water feeds the green,
helping it to grow and it soaks into the brown until it solidifies* *it and forces it to
become* *the* *strong**est**,* *most* *stable foundation* *it
can be**. The green shades the brown, protect**ing it from the elements.*

That all seemed fitting for the way he, Hermione, and Ron fit together. He and Hermione had
always provided the foundation and Ron's presence had always helped to sustain them.

Harry pulled his eyes from the ground and his thoughts were brought sharply back to the reality
in front of him. The sky was lightening significantly but there was no indication that the sun was
rising. He wondered about it briefly before the realization dawned on him and he literally smacked
himself in the head. He picked up his blanket and stood up abruptly, spilling his coffee in his
haste. The warmth of it washed over his hand and he cursed himself as he turned to hurry back
inside the house.

He rushed to his room to grab socks from the drawer and he struggled to put them on as he walked
into the living room for his shoes. He slipped them on his feet and tied them quickly. He ran his
fingers through his hair and rushed out the back door, remembering this time to close it as he
went. He chuckled to himself as he walked quickly toward the beach. When he was as far away from
his house as he could get without finding himself in the water, he turned back toward his
house.

The sun had nearly risen but he could still make out the pinks and yellows, oranges and reds
that silhouetted it. The splashes of color against the white and blue of the sky made him think
about Hermione again and his thoughts of the night before, when he'd pictured her looking at
her rising sun only a few short hours after he had watched his rising moon. Did she really see the
same colors? Was there white blended in with the blue, or was her morning sky clear of the clouds
that lingered in his? It amazed him to think that while the sun, the moon, and the stars were the
same, the colors could be so different. The clouds changed everything. They could cover the moon,
blanket the stars, and even hide the sun if that was their desire. On this morning—his morning—they
chose to intermingle with the sun and the colors that accompanied it…nothing appeared to be hiding
from him. It was as though the sky was a stage and the sun and clouds and colors were performing
only for him…it was beautiful, peaceful. And as he stood, staring at the wonder of nature, he again
longed for someone to share it with.

“Good morning, Mr. Potter.”

Harry started and nearly fell to the ground, his heart hammering against his chest. His
breathing was rapid as he wildly looked around. He breathed heavily and chuckled with relief.
“Morning, Jim,” Harry replied, taking one final deep breath to get his labored breathing under
control, “Harry, please.”

“Didn't mean to scare you. You all right?” Jim asked, chuckling softly to himself as he
watched Harry regain control. “You were really out there, weren't you? Everything okay?”

Harry swallowed and offered him a smile. “Yeah, fine. It's good. I just…whew,” he shook his
head, “you scared me. I didn't realize anyone else was out here.”

Jim looked up at the sky that had enthralled Harry only moments before. “I love it out here,” he
replied. “I come out here nearly every morning to watch the sun rise. Most peaceful time of the
day, morning is. Vacationers are generally still sleeping so I have the beach to myself most times.
It's good to see you out here so early. What brings you?”

Harry looked at him and rolled his eyes, a smile that said “stupidity” on his face.

Jim chuckled. “I see,” he said, chuckling harder. “Fell for it, did you? Thought you'd step
outside onto your porch and watch the sun rise over the Pacific. Don't worry, Harry, you're
not the first to forget the sun doesn't rise in the west. You have to face east if you want to
see that.”

Harry laughed at himself. “Yeah, well,” he said, shrugging his shoulders.

“Looks like you figured it out in time,” Jim replied, smiling as he looked from Harry to the
sky. “Some don't, you know. Believe it or not, I've met people who wake up early every
morning they're here and try to watch the sun rise over this ocean. Some just never seem to get
it. Most figure it out after the second or third morning, but there are those….” His voice drifted
away in disbelief.

“Suppose I should be thankful I don't fall into *that* category, huh?” Harry said,
laughing once more at himself. He looked up at the sky and the new position of the sun. The clouds
were sparse now as around them, more and more blue seemed to be breaking free of their cover. His
eyes fell back to Jim who was watching him closely, as though checking to be sure he was truly all
right. “So,” Harry began, clearing his throat, “you live around here? I wasn't aware of
that.”

“Not far. `Bout a half-mile up that way,” he replied, pointing toward the south.

“You live near the…mall, then?” Harry said, stammering a bit as he tried to remember what Tanya
had called it.

“The strip mall, yes. Not far from there.”

“Strip mall,” Harry echoed quietly. He looked up at Jim and smiled. “Need to remember that
one.”

“Mall is good, Harry. You say mall, and most folks'll know what you're talking about.
The ones who don't probably wouldn't know *strip* mall either. Don't worry about
it.”

“Looks like the shows over,” Harry replied, his eyes scanning the sky for the colors he'd
been so enamored by. “You busy any time soon? Want to join me for coffee?”

“You sure? I don't want to impose. Like I said, I do this every morning. Going home is a
habit now,” Jim replied, a faraway look in his eye.

“No problem at all,” Harry said genially. “Made a fresh pot of coffee right before I came out
this morning. Come on.” Harry started walking toward his house and after only a moment's
hesitation, Jim followed.

“So, you haven't called to have me drive you anywhere,” Jim said conversationally. “You
haven't needed to go to the store or anything yet? The post office?”

“Actually, I have been to the store. First night, the woman who works for the property
management company took me. You know Tanya Richards?”

“Tanya?” Jim repeated, rolling his eyes back as he thought about it. “No. Don't know any
Tanya, not that I can think up anyway. She pretty?” he asked, laughing playfully.

Harry rolled his eyes again, “Oh yeah,” he replied, his voice quavering with that `you could say
that again' tremor.

Jim eyed him carefully. “Watch out for the locals, Harry. A young, handsome Englishman like
yourself? Give the ladies around here something to talk about. You just be careful, you hear?”

“No worries. I told her right away that I wasn't looking for a relationship,” he said,
opening the door to his house. “Told her it was friends or nothing. How do you take your coffee?”
Harry was already at the cupboard, preparing to reach for a coffee cup.

“Black,” Jim replied. “Black is fine. Thanks.”

Harry poured two cups of coffee and handed one to Jim. They sat down at the bar in quiet
companionship as they each took a few sips of coffee. Jim looked down at the counter and saw the
letters Harry had left there. “Don't mean to be nosy, but if you want those letters to go out
today, you might want to think about getting them in the box soon. Mail comes early around these
parts.”

“Oh, right,” Harry said, picking them up from the counter. “Excuse me for a minute.”

Jim nodded and Harry stood and walked out the front door. Jim watched him closely, a slight
smile resting comfortably at the corners of his mouth, and a twinkle in his eye. He looked up and
then closed his eyes, taking a deep breath as he did so…the smile never leaving his face.

Harry returned quickly. Jim had resumed drinking his coffee and was eyeing him over the brim of
his cup. He set the cup on the counter. “How are you doing, Harry? I mean, really. How are
you?”

Harry looked at the sincerity in Jim's face and he heard the concern in his voice. There was
something about him that made Harry want to open up, he just couldn't understand what it was.
He didn't know him very well; they'd hardly spoken on the ride from the airport. But even
that first day he'd felt as though they'd known each other for a lifetime. Harry needed
someone to talk to, someone who didn't really know him and who wasn't looking to gain
something from him…he hoped that Jim was what he needed. “When you say really, what do you mean by
that?” Harry asked.

“I mean, *really*,” Jim replied, chuckling lightly. “You remind me of someone I knew once,
Harry…someone very special to me. You need someone, I can see it in your eyes. Let me assure you
right here and now, there is nothing you have that I want. You need a friend, a confidante, and
I'm willing to be that for you. It may seem strange, but I feel as though we've known each
other for a very long time; like there was a reason I was called upon to be your driver. I'll
take nothing more than you are willing to give, and I'll offer nothing more than you're
willing to take. Whatever your concerns, they will go no farther than this room. Tell me, Harry,
how are you *really*?”

Every word he said was exactly what Harry needed to hear and he was grateful for that.
“Honestly?” Harry said, somewhat at a loss for words. Jim nodded. “Honestly, I don't know how I
am,” he admitted. “I came here to find myself. To discover whether or not I could do anything
besides mag…” he stopped himself short. “Anything besides *imagine* all of this,” he finished
quickly, hoping Jim wouldn't ask too many questions.

Jim stared at him knowingly. “And? Are you telling me you've discovered nothing new about
yourself in the past couple of days?”

Harry eyed him, suddenly feeling nervous, as though he was about to tell him … “I think I'm
in love,” … everything.

“Wow!” Jim replied, a look of surprise on his face. “Must've been quite the epiphany, that
one.”

Harry chuckled. “Don't know about epiphany, don't know about love for that matter,” he
replied, trying his best to sound nonchalant. He looked up sharply. “Have you ever been in
love?”

Jim's expression changed so drastically the very second that the words left Harry's
mouth that he immediately began apologizing. “I'm…I'm sorry,” he said, trying his best to
cover for the obvious mistake he'd made in asking. “Please, I'm….”

Jim placed a reassuring hand on Harry's arm. “S'okay. Relax,” he said, smiling despite
his own inner turmoil. “Yes. Yes, I have been in love. A very long time ago. She was…” he paused in
silent reflection, Harry watched as the older man's face changed as his memories began to play
in mind. “She was beautiful. The most amazing woman I'd ever known. She's gone now, sixteen
years. I still see her though…in my dreams.” His voice was hoarse, cracking with emotion.

“I'm sorry,” Harry replied softly. “I…I didn't mean to….”

“Remembering is good for the soul, Harry. I miss her, and I love her, and I know that memories
are all I have. That's enough for me now. It has to be,” he replied, his hand gently patting
Harry's arm where he'd reached for it only moments ago. “What of your young lady?” he
asked, anxious to redirect the conversation back to Harry.

“Hermione,” Harry said with a sigh. “That's her name…Hermione.”

“Hermione,” Jim repeated softly. “What a lovely name.”

Harry laughed. “Try telling her that,” he said wistfully. “I don't know what it is. I
don't know when things changed. I thought I'd come here to find myself, but all I seem to
find are wishes that she was here with me. Every time I look at the sky or the ocean I think how
wonderful it would be if she was here to share it with me. I watched the storm and my thoughts went
straight to her. I wondered…” he paused, dropping his eyes, too embarrassed to continue.

“Go on, Harry,” Jim said softly. “Let it out.”

“I wondered…if she would be scared. If holding onto my hand would be enough for her to feel
safe. If she could…” he took a deep breath and forced himself to continue, “…if she could find
comfort in me. How do you know?” he asked, jerking his head up suddenly. “How do you know if
it's love? Is it supposed to hurt? Is it supposed to make your stomach clench and your head
spin? Is there supposed to be this pain I feel in my chest or this hollow empty feeling I have
inside, knowing she's thousands of miles away? How do I know? More importantly…how do I know if
she feels the same? Are there signals? Something I should be looking for? I just don't…” Harry
rose abruptly and walked to the kitchen. He needed a distraction and pouring more coffee into his
nearly full cup sounded like a good one at the moment. “Would you like some more?” he asked,
holding out the pot.

“Please,” Jim replied, pushing his cup forward on the counter, “if you don't mind.”

Harry poured the coffee and set the now-empty pot back on the burner and flipped the switch to
`off'. He held his cup with both hands and took a long drink, almost hoping for the burning
sensation that accompanied hot coffee. His coffee, however, was not nearly hot enough to provide
him with painful distraction he felt he needed. He chuckled softly to himself. *Rather have the
pain of scalding hot coffee than the pain of acknowledgment, eh? The pain from the coffee will last
but a minute…the pain of acknowledgment will last a lifetime if you choose to ignore it and
make-believe* *it* *doesn't exis**t…it will forever tor....*

“What are you thinking, Harry,” Jim's voice cut straight through Harry's invasive
thoughts. “Right now, in this moment, tell me what you're thinking.”

Harry shook his head. “I don't know,” he said, shrugging his shoulders. “This voice, like my
conscious or something, just sort of pops in whenever I least expect it. Sounds stupid, right?” he
added, turning away in embarrassment.

“Not at all, Harry. We all have that inner voice. In some, it is more prevalent than in others.
Tell me, Harry, when you hear it, do you *really* hear it? Do you listen *to* it or
*at* it?”

Harry thought for a moment. “At, mostly,” he said honestly. “Always feel a bit of a fool if I
listen too closely. Believe me, whatever this voice is inside me, some of the things I hear just…”
he visibly shuddered and had to restrain himself to keep from placing his hands over his ears.
“Just believe me, some things are better when they are listened *at*.”

“Tell me something,” Jim said. “Have you always followed your head or your heart?”

Harry walked from the kitchen back to his barstool and sat down heavily. “My head or my heart?”
he echoed softly to himself. “I think I've more or less followed my heart. My head hasn't
really been my own in about seven years.”

Jim shook his head and looked at him quizzically. “I'm sorry?”

Harry chuckled. “Hermione,” he said, as though that were enough of an explanation. “She's my
head, my logic. I tend to want to follow my heart without thinking of consequences. Then Hermione,
my head, steps in and forces me to think logically.”

“So, now tell me,” Jim replied softly, “do you listen to your head or do you listen to your
heart?”

“My head,” Harry answered without hesitation. “Once I'm shown the logic, I generally try to
listen to it.”

“You ask me how you know if it's love. What, Harry, does your head tell you?”

Harry thought long and hard about the question, afraid somehow of giving the wrong answer.
“I…my…”

“There are no wrong answers, Harry,” Jim replied, his voice softer than before, “just
listen.”

Harry looked at him, mildly shocked by the familiarity of his words. He shook his head, then
closed his eyes. “My head is telling me that it's crazy. Hermione is my best friend, and if I
admit to either of us that I've fallen in love with her, I'll lose every part of her
forever.”

“And your heart?”

Harry placed a fist on his chest, over his heart, and pounded against it a couple of times
before dropping it to his knee. “My heart…” he paused again, not sure how to convey in words, the
things he felt in his heart. “My heart is telling me that there's no logical explanation.
It's telling me that to deny it is to deny everything that's ever mattered to me.
That's ridiculous…” he looked up for confirmation, “right?”

“Nothing our heart tells us is ridiculous…not if we're really listening. Your heart is the
one thing that will never steer you wrong. It will never misguide you or make you believe in things
that don't exist. If you feel a hesitation in a decision, that's your heart telling you to
think twice before making it. The heart sends out warnings all the time, it's up to us to
listen to them. The ridiculous only finds its way in, when we forget to listen to, or choose to
ignore, the messages the heart is sending. I can sit here, and I can name hundreds of things that
made me fall in love, hundreds more that kept me there. Thousands of things about her that I
noticed in our time together that made me fall in love over and over again. That's not what you
need, Harry. What you need, is to find your own meanings.”

Harry looked at him questioningly. “You sound like a professor I know,” he said, staring into
the brown eyes that stared back at him unblinkingly. “He used to talk to me the same way you are
right now. In circles,” he said straightforwardly, “just like this.”

Jim laughed. “Sounds like someone I'd find pleasure in meeting. You're looking at me as
though I could be him.” Jim looked at him, studying his eyes and facial expressions. “Is that what
you think, Harry? That I'm some professor of yours in disguise? If so, you hold yourself in
mighty high regard, don't you? You do realize how far you've come to be in this place,
don't you? Do you really believe that your professor has nothing better to do with his time
than to traipse halfway around the world after you…just to offer you advice on love?”

Harry shook his head and laughed at the ridiculousness of his thoughts. “No,” he said, shaking
his head, “no, I don't believe that. He's a great man, and I believe he has plenty more
important things to be going on with. I do wonder though,” he said, searching Jim's face, “how
it is you seem so familiar to me.”

“I've told you, Harry,” Jim replied, staring unwaveringly into Harry's eyes, “it's
as if we've known each other a very long time. I can't explain it, nor would I want to,
truth be told. Sometimes it's best just to take what we can get in life, you know? My wife…” he
said, his voice suddenly filled with loss and longing. “She was…she was a beautiful woman.
She'd um, she'd sacrifice her life to save a dog from being hit by a car, she'd nurse a
kitten back to health if it was lost or abandoned by its mother, she'd give money to every
beggar who happened to cross her path. She was a kind woman, an unselfish one.”

“Sounds like what I've been told of my mother,” Harry said softly. “Where is she? Your
wife?”

“Our house…it, um,” Jim paused and closed his eyes. Harry could tell by the sudden hitch in his
breathing that Jim was on the verge of tears and he remained quiet, patiently waiting for him to
continue, if that's what he chose to do. Jim took a deep breath. “The house…there was a, uh, a
fire. I grabbed her arm and I pulled her toward the exit. The smoke, it was overwhelming, and the
heat…the heat was intense. We made it to the door when she stopped. Our son…he was in his crib. I
wanted her out. I wanted her safe before I ran back in to get him. She placed her hand against my
cheek and blew a kiss into the air. I could see her lips move, but I couldn't hear the words
she spoke…it was the last time she ever said she loved me. I reached for her, but it was too late.
She was gone. I wanted to follow her. I wanted to make sure she was safe. Instead, I turned around
and walked through the door. She ran back into the house and she grabbed our son. She buried his
face into the crook of her arm, trying to keep him from inhaling as much of the smoke as she could.
She appeared in a window near the front of the house. I ran to her, she handed him to me and told
me she was coming. I held our son in my arms as I waited and watched for her. I couldn't leave
him, if I did, there was a chance that he'd be left alone in this world. She sacrificed her
life to save his, and I couldn't let that sacrifice be in vain. So I held him, and I waited…and
I waited. She never came out. Sometimes, when I dream, I find myself still waiting. When I'm
awake, I realize it's her who's waiting on me now. Do you know why I walked through that
door, Harry?” he asked, looking once again into Harry's eyes.

Harry shook his head.

“Because I listened to my heart. In my heart, I knew that's where I was needed most. Had I
listened to my head, our son never would've had a chance.”

“Where,” Harry swallowed hard, somehow fearing the answer, “is your son now?”

Jim dropped his head and Harry heard the distinct sniffle that accompanied fallen tears. Jim
raised his head and attempted a deep breath. “Our son, he um, he survived for about a week. He
inhaled too much smoke. The respirators worked for a while, but there was too much damage. Me? I
think…” he sighed, “I think he just couldn't live without his mother. For sixteen years,
they've watched over me. And for sixteen years, I've looked up to them. Harry, if you hear
nothing else I've said today, hear this. You have to hold onto what you have. You have to hold
on tight and never let go. If you love this girl, or even *think* for one moment that you
*might* love her, then you have got to seize that opportunity. Love is a rare and special
gift. It's not something that's handed to everyone and believe me, it's not something
we're guaranteed to get to hold on to. You're young, Harry, and I'm assuming that she
is too, but I can see the life you've lived reflected in your eyes. Your path hasn't been
easy, and I know that you're scared, but its time, Harry, to listen to your heart. Hermione
cannot be your head this time. She can't fill you with logic until you see the reasons to make
it work, or not work…this time it's all up to you.”

“Listen to my heart,” Harry repeated. “My mum told me that same thing yesterday, in a dream. I
never really knew my mum, my dad either. They were ki…” Harry paused, quickly correcting himself,
“they died when I was a baby. Sixteen years ago, like your wife. Do you believe in heaven,
Jim?”

“Sometimes,” Jim admitted softly. “I like the idea of heaven. The thought of my wife and son
walking on streets of gold, no burdens to carry, no pain. Throw in some angels and the sounds of a
harp and I'm sold. I want to believe. It makes *me* feel better to think that they are
happily looking down on me. Do you believe?”

“I want to believe in heaven, I want to believe there's a God, but…”

“You're far too young to be such a skeptic, Harry,” Jim said quickly.

Harry cocked his head and stared over Jim's shoulder, thinking. “I s'pose,” he said
thoughtfully. “But if you knew the hell I've been through in my seventeen years, you may think
I'm not skeptical enough.”

Jim studied Harry's face as Harry continued to stare over his shoulder. “That's an
interesting scar,” he said, gesturing toward Harry's forehead. “Looks like a lightning bolt.
Bet the other kids thought that was cool, huh? Not everyday you meet someone with a scar like
that.”

Harry's hand instinctively went to his forehead to cover the one thing that always made him
stand out above all others. “Yeah, sure,” he said, his voice bitter. He shook his head. “Sorry,” he
said, shaking himself from the stupor he always managed to find himself in when someone mentioned
his scar. “Most people thought it odd, really. Very few people thought it was cool.”

“Mind if I ask how you got it?”

“Car accident,” Harry responded quickly. The answer had been instinctual from as far back as he
could remember. Thankfully the standard answer hadn't changed in his mind. No one in the
wizarding world would ask him that question…it seemed everyone there already knew the reason for
his scar.

“Car accident,” Jim repeated. “Amazing isn't it? The distinctive ways in which our bodies
are marked by the various occurrences in our lives. The most tragic events generally leave a mark
on the inside, visible only to us when we close our eyes and are forced to live through them again
and again.”

“My most tragic is both inside and out,” Harry replied. “This…*accident* left both of my
parents dead. It never should've happened,” he said, his voice growing uncontrollably louder
with each word.

“You were an infant Harry, a child,” Jim said consolingly. “You don't really believe you
could've prevented the car accident that killed your parents, do you?”

Harry shook his head and looked at Jim as though just realizing he was there. It was so seldom
that he met anyone who didn't know the truth behind his scar that he was momentarily taken
aback by the question. “No, no…I, no,” he stammered, shaking his head, unable or unwilling to take
his reply any further.

Jim placed his hand on Harry's shoulder. “Right now you need to remember this,” he said with
quiet conviction, “listen to your heart. You have a lot to work through, but every step you take
forward gets you that much closer to finding what it is you're looking for. Have you stopped to
think that maybe you don't have to do this alone? Maybe your young woman could help you more
than you know.”

Harry nodded his head. “Yeah,” he said, chuckling ironically, “I've thought about little
else since I woke up yesterday.”

“Do what you have to do, Harry,” Jim said softly. “This is all about you now.” He removed his
hand from Harry's shoulder and Harry shivered at the cold, and the loss of familiarity that
replaced it. *Ho**w had it gotten so warm, so quickly, that I'd feel the difference the
very second he lifted his hand?* He wondered.

“All about me, listen to my heart, don't have to do it alone…” Harry studied Jim closely.
“If I didn't know any better, I'd swear you've been talking to my mum.”

“I'd better go,” Jim said, rising from his barstool and stretching. “I've taken up too
much of your morning as it is. Last thing you need is some old guy telling you his life story. You
have quite enough to be going on with, I'm sure.”

“Well, you've given me a lot to think about, that's for sure,” Harry replied, chuckling.
“It's actually been great having you here. Don't know what I would've done with my
morning otherwise. I'm waiting on some stuff to come. I would've been pretty bored just
sitting here.” Harry looked at the clock and jumped up from his seat. “Oh,” he exclaimed, heading
toward the kitchen. “We've been here a couple of hours already and I didn't even offer you
breakfast. Can I get you something? I know you said you're on your way out, but you're
welcome to stay if you'd like. I should've thought of that,” he said apologetically.

“No, Harry,” Jim said, putting his hand up in protest. “No, I'm all right. I'm not much
of a breakfast person anyway. It's no problem, really. I'm just going to go home and
shower, and prepare to start my day. Thanks for the wonderful conversation. A good talk does
wonders for the soul. I appreciate your listening to the ramblings of an old man. You're a
great man, Harry, don't forget that. You find what you're looking for and you hold on to
it, you hear?”

Harry nodded and walked back around the counter to stand in front of him. He held out his hand
and Jim took it firmly in his own; his free hand patting Harry's extended arm. “Thanks,” Harry
said gratefully.

“Hang in there,” Jim replied. “You'll hear that heart of yours soon enough. Once you do, all
of the pieces will start falling into place…just like the last few pieces of a jigsaw puzzle. Try
not to worry too much. Make time for fun. Just let the answers come to you. If it's important,
your heart will tell you.”

“Thanks,” Harry said again. He smiled as Jim turned toward the back door.

“You make sure to call me if you need to go somewhere,” Jim said, looking straight into
Harry's eyes. “Don't ever feel like you can't call. You have my number. Day or
night…I'll be here. Don't hesitate…even if you just need an ear.”

“I will,” Harry replied. “I have it in my wallet. I'll be sure to call. I have a feeling
I'll be in need of at least one of your services very soon. I have a lot of thinking to do.
Thanks, again. Talking to you has been,” he paused, searching for the right word, “…enlightening?
Yeah…but it's been more than just that. I think it's just exactly what I needed.”

“Good,” Jim replied, “that's good. I hope I was able to give you something to take with you
as you contemplate your future. I wish you the best, Harry. Keep in touch.”

“Bye,” Harry said as he watched him walk through the door and down the back porch steps.

Jim turned around and gave him a quick wave before heading toward the beach to begin his trek
home.

Harry slid the door closed and sat down at the counter. His eyes slid across the countertop.
Something wasn't right. Something was missing. He rummaged through the papers that were lying
there, searching for something unknown. After a minute of fruitless searching, he leaned heavily
against the back of the barstool, his eyes still roaming the countertop. Suddenly it occurred to
him. “Bloody hell,” he shouted, jumping off the stool and scrambling to reach the papers once
again. He looked through every last sheet of paper…they were gone. Everything he'd written in
the past few nights had disappeared.

He wondered briefly if Jim had somehow managed to take them. He quickly dispelled of that
thought because he hadn't ever left him alone in the room. The furthest he'd gone was the
coffee pot. Except…*the mailbox.* Jim had been left alone when Harry went to mail the letters.
Something didn't seem right about that. He couldn't believe that Jim would take them…there
was no reason for him to.

He thought back to the night before and tried to picture where he'd left them. He studied
the counter. “I left them right here, I think,” he said, trying to talk himself through it. “Then I
went to bed, got up, wrote Hermione's letter and...”

“Bloody hell,” he shouted again. He raced for the front door and out to the mailbox. He yanked
open the door and reached inside. He pulled out an envelope addressed to him from the power
company. “Dammit!” he exclaimed, slamming his hand against the mailbox.

He walked back into the house slowly…wondering how the hell he was going to explain those papers
to Hermione once she received them in the mail….

-->



9. Chapter 7 - What He's Missing
--------------------------------

A/N: Okay, I’m back with another chapter of Discovery. I’ve struggled for a while, thinking
people wouldn’t be interested in reading stories that started prior to HBP. I’ve had enough people
ask me about it now, that I decided it must be worth finishing.

I’m glad…I love this story. Thanks for all your support.

I’ve been slacking in my review replies, which is something that I hate, but with school and
kids and life, it gets hard to keep up. I do thank each and every one of you for taking the time to
review. It truly does mean a great deal to me. I hope you feel compelled to leave more as you
continue to read the newest chapters.

Thanks again!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

**What He’s Missing**

Hermione stood before the mail slot, letter to Harry in hand. She was decidedly nervous about
mailing it to him and she hesitated to place it in the slot.

She would reach forward to put it in then pull it back to check his address. Reach forward then
pull it back to check the postage. Reach forward then pull it back to check that it was properly
sealed. Lucky for her, most passerby paid little attention or one might question her mental state,
as she had been standing there for nearly fifteen minutes checking and rechecking the letter.

What she hadn’t noticed was the man with twinkling eyes who had been silently observing her from
nearly twenty feet away. The knowing smile on his face was a sure sign that he was aware of her
inner struggle. When Hermione reached forward and pulled back for the umpteenth time the man
stopped a young woman in the street and spoke to her briefly, pointing a finger in Hermione’s
direction.

The woman smiled and walked over to Hermione. “Hello, miss,” she said cordially.

Hermione started. The last thing she’d expected was a stranger to address her in such a friendly
way. “Oh…uh hello,” she stumbled in reply.

“What you got there?” the woman asked, pointing at the letter Hermione held in her hand.

Hermione looked at her as though she’d come from another planet. “Just…just a letter,” she
replied, trying to keep her voice steady and casual.

“Let’s see then,” the woman said, reaching forward and taking the letter from Hermione’s hand.
“Oh, America. Got a friend in America, have you? Never been myself. I hear it’s lovely.”


Hermione was numb from the shock of it. She tried to reach forward to retrieve the letter or to
speak to demand it back, but she couldn’t quite fathom that someone had actually walked up and
taken it from her hands, and so she stared incredulously for a beat too long.

The woman checked over the envelope, making sure it was exactly as it needed to be, said, “Looks
right good,” and then placed it in the mail slot. “You’ve got beautiful handwriting,” she said,
looking directly at Hermione. “Must be hard writing with a quill like that.”

“I…you…why…?” Hermione’s shock had turned to fear. There were things in that letter that she
wasn’t sure she wanted Harry to know right now. Things that would inevitably change the course of
their relationship, things she was sure Harry wasn’t ready to hear.

“Looked like you were having a bit of trouble,” the woman replied casually, “just thought I’d
help you along. Hope you don’t mind too much. This Harry person must be quite special for you to be
so nervous about sending a letter. Whatever was in there, I hope its all worth it in the end.”

“That makes two of us,” Hermione replied numbly, “and yeah, he is pretty special,” she added,
walking away feeling terrified and still very much in shock over what had happened.

The woman watched her walk away then turned to the gentleman who had stopped her in the street.
He nodded by way of thank you and for a brief moment she felt uneasy, as though she’d broken some
sacred code between women. Suddenly a thought broke through her anxiety, *love…*it was done in
the name of love. She walked away hoping that someday she’d see a wedding announcement for Harry
Potter and Hermione Granger; she would keep her eyes peeled for it, knowing that she may have
played some small part in making it happen.

Hermione walked the distance from the mail slot to her home in a state of shock. Her emotions
volleyed back and forth between gratitude, fear, and sheer terror. The anxiety regarding Harry’s
reaction was already more then she thought she could handle. “Not much I can do now,” she mumbled
to herself, “‘cept maybe hope I got the address wrong,” she added with a smirk. With each forward
step she took, she could feel herself resigning to the inevitable. She could only hope the fates
weren’t laughing at her…and that Harry wouldn’t either.

{+}+{+}+{+}+{+}+{+}+{+}+{+}+{+}+{+}+{+}+{+}+{+}+{+}+{+}+{+}+{+}+{+}+{+}+{+}+{+}+{+}+{+}

Harry didn’t have long to dwell on his thoughts of what would happen when Hermione received his
letter and the surprises that accompanied it…most especially the last thing he’d written. The
doorbell rang not long after the realization had sunk in. He quickly pulled himself together and
walked to the door before the person on the other side decided to ring the bell again.

He gazed through the peephole and saw a young man he didn’t recognize standing on his porch. He
opened the door cautiously, “Yes?” he asked loudly, opening the door only a couple of inches. “How
can I help you?”

“Mr. Potter?” the young man asked hurriedly.

“Yes,” Harry replied, opening the door just a bit further.

“Hi, I’m Kevin. I have a delivery for you. Art supplies.”

Harry opened the door all the way and stepped forward. “Fantastic,” he said excitedly. “Let me
help you bring them in.”

“Yeah, cool,” Kevin replied, a distinct note of gratitude in his voice. “Right over here.” He
led Harry to his truck and he raised the back door. Inside were a couple of large boxes mixed with
a few smaller ones. “Looks like you got quite a load here. What kind of artist are you?”

Harry laughed. “Oh, I’m not an artist,” he said lightly.

Kevin looked at him in surprise. “Wow! You got a lot of stuff here for a guy who’s not an
artist. Are you *trying* to be an artist?”

“Yeah,” Harry said, chuckling softly. “Something like that.”

Kevin shrugged his shoulders and pulled out one of the smaller boxes to hand to Harry. “Whatever
floats your boat,” he remarked off-handedly.

Harry eyed him for a moment and then headed for the house, wondering all the while what
‘*whatever floats your boat’* actually meant. Kevin grabbed a smaller box of his own and
followed Harry inside the house.

After a few more trips to the truck, Harry’s boxes were unpacked and stacked neatly in a row
beside the cupboard he planned to store them in. He thanked Kevin and offered him a tip for his
services. “Can’t accept that,” Kevin said solemnly. “Lose my job accepting tips. ‘preciate the
offer though.” He lowered his head and turned toward the door. Just as he reached the threshold he
turned to Harry. “You’re a good man,” he said thoughtfully, “I can sense it. I got a feeling for
stuff like that. Hope this works out for you. Good luck, man.”

Harry, slightly taken aback, smiled and said the only thing he could think of, “Thanks, man.
That makes two of us.”

Kevin chuckled and walked through the door, closing it quietly behind him, and leaving Harry to
wonder how it was that so many people could read him like an open book. All his life he’d tried to
live up to the images people had of him…he’d struggled to prove that he was a good guy, despite the
things that were said about him. And now, he hardly had to speak and people were telling him he was
a good man…he couldn’t help but to wonder when exactly, things had changed.

*They changed when you fell in love,* his inner voice interceded.

“I don’t even know if I’m in love,” Harry responded abruptly. “Now is not the time for thinking.
It’s the time for putting stuff away…so *go* away,” he added irritably.

Harry began to mumble to himself as he unpacked his supplies. “…do *not* have time to be
thinking about *that*.”

*All the time in the world.* *Nothing but time, matter of fact.*

“…stupid voice anyway.”

*Your voice, Harry.* *Remember that…*

Harry opened one of the larger boxes which held his easel. He pulled out the different parts and
stared at them in disbelief. “I have to put this thing together?” he said incredulously.

He debated getting out his wand and putting it together magically. Instead, he walked to the
kitchen and checked the drawers for the tools he might need. He found a small toolkit and decided
he’d attempt to put it together without the aid of magic.

After ten minutes of turning the directions over and over as he tried to make sense of them he
decided to just go for it. A cut on his hand from a slipped screwdriver, more than a few colorful
words, and an hour’s time, Harry stood back to admire his lopsided easel. “Bloody hell,” he
muttered, chuckling despite himself. He picked it up and adjusted the legs and set it back
down.

Wearily, he gathered up the art paper to lay atop it. When it didn’t fall over, he slumped down
onto the couch and stared at the blank sheet of paper. The longer he stared at it, the more it
seemed to mock him. He walked into the kitchen to fix his lunch and took it with him into the
living room so he could stare at the paper longer. “What do you want?” he asked it. “What do I do
now?”

When he finished his lunch he set his plate and glass down on the coffee table and decided to
busy himself with the rest of his supplies. He pulled out his charcoal, his paints and brushes, and
his pens and pencils, arranging them neatly to the side of his easel. His other supplies he placed
neatly inside the cupboard he’d chosen, labeling them as he went.

“This isn’t going to be easy, is it?” he asked aloud.

He decided to pick up a pencil and to just draw. *Whatever comes out is bound to be what’s
inside, right?* He figured.

His pencil made contact with the paper and after what felt like hours, an image finally began to
take shape. He wasn’t any good at drawing, not really. It was something he’d never excelled at and
apparently now wouldn’t be an exception for him. He erased and then re-drew, he slapped his hand
against the canvas and walked away. He came back to it over and over throughout the course of the
evening. In his mind he saw his friend, in his heart he saw a woman. One battled against the other
and the result left him less than satisfied.

He was sure that it was Hermione he was staring at when he looked at the picture, but there was
something missing. There was something about her eyes that wasn’t right and Harry had no idea what
it was. He erased and drew them again to no avail.

*The eyes are the hardest,* his inner voice consoled.

“But they’re her eyes,” Harry retorted. “They’re hers, they’re just…wrong.”

He carefully removed the picture and laid it on the couch. He walked to his room and grabbed the
photo of him, Hermione, and Ron and took it back to the living room with him. “Let’s see if I can
draw Ron,” he mumbled. He took pencil to paper again and drew what better resembled a caricature of
Ron and Harry began to laugh. “Have to save this one for him,” he said, pulling the sheet from the
easel.

He looked down again at the picture he’d drawn of Hermione and he picked it up and held it at
eye level. He stared into her eyes and willed himself to discover what was missing. When nothing
came, he put the paper back on the easel and decided to take a walk on the beach.

The day was beautiful. He slipped off his shoes, rolled up the bottom of his pants, and walked
along the edge of the water. “What is it, Hermione?” he asked, surprising himself in the process.
Until he’d spoken aloud, he hadn’t even realized he’d been thinking about her. He walked for a
while, lost in thoughts until he felt his stomach tighten from hunger. He turned around and headed
home, determined to eat and to forget about that damned picture.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Five days later Harry realized he was obsessed. Every night when he closed his eyes the exact
same image of Hermione assaulted him. In it, she was radiant and he could see in her eyes what he’d
been missing, but every time he’d awaken and race to his easel, the picture would elude him and
he’d be right back where he started.

It was during one such showdown with the paper that the phone rang. He’d barely registered it in
the first couple of rings and then raced for it, catching it just as the answering machine did.

“Hello.”

“Hi, Harry, this is Tanya. How are you doing?”

“Oh, hi,” he said hollowly. “I…I’m doing fine, thanks. You?”

“Not too bad. I just called to wish you a happy birthday,” she said enthusiastically. Harry
wondered briefly at the excitement in her voice.

“A what?” he asked. “Is it…?”

Tanya laughed. “It’s July 31st, your birthday. You didn’t realize?”

“Er…no,” he stammered. “Guess not. I’ve been a little preoccupied the past few days.”

“Oh, well, in that case, why don’t you let me un-preoccupy you and take you out for dinner
tonight? My treat.”

“Oh…well, um, you don’t have to do that,” he replied, looking longingly at his now blank canvas
and the stacks of attempts he had piled high on the floor next to it.

“I know I don’t have to,” she laughed. “I want to and I refuse to take no for an answer. I’ve
made us reservations with an ocean view at the Inn at Face Rock. I’ll pick you up at 6:45. That
gives you, oh, about 4 hours to get ready. See you then.”

Harry heard the distinct click of the phone hanging up and he slowly placed his back on the
wall. “Dinner with Tanya?” he groaned. He walked back to his canvas and stared at it. His fingers
itched to try again. Every attempt thus far had produced the same results and he was determined to
get it right. *It’s all in the eyes,* he thought time and again.

He stretched his limbs and decided that rather than get started on another picture, he’d check
his mail, grab a bite to eat, and take a walk on the beach to clear his head. He’d hardly done any
of those over the past week, determined as he was to get that picture right.

He opened the front door and headed out into the bright sunlight to retrieve his mail. He
stopped short when he opened the mailbox. He reached tentatively toward his mail, almost as though
he thought it might bite him. Inside he found a box and a letter from Hermione. He retrieved them
carefully, his heart pounding hard against his chest.

*There wasn’t time for her to get yours and send this*, his inner voice assured him.

Harry breathed a sigh of relief. Whatever was inside wasn’t a letter telling him he was foolish
to believe there was anything more between them then friendship. How much more there *was* he
didn’t know…but he could no longer deny that there was something— at least on his part.

He stared at his mail as he walked slowly into the house. He sat down on one of the barstools
and set her letter on the counter, then carefully began to open the box. When the outer cover was
pulled away he found a white box with the words, “For Harry, love Hermione” written in script on
the outside. Inside was a short note…

*Dear Harry,*

*I don’t know how well your journey is going but I thought this might help you along your way.
I hope that it does.*

*I miss you and I love you. Happy birthday.*

*Hermione.*

Harry looked at the book he pulled out of the box, “The Art of Self-Discovery: How to Find
Yourself Through Art.”

He opened the book and on the inside cover Hermione had written…

*We all have things inside of us that long to be discovered,*

*The mysteries of life and love we all aim to uncover.*

*Just know my heart is with you and in the very end,*

*Regardless of the outcome, I’ll always be your friend.*

*Always,*

*Hermione*

Harry smiled, the smile of someone lost, someone still struggling to find his way. *I’ll
always be your friend.* He read her words again. “Is that what I want?” he pondered aloud. “Just
to be her friend?”

*I think there’s more to it than that.*

“Me too,” he whispered. “Me too.”

He looked at the letter that lay on the counter and he took note of the date it was sent…five
days ago. The same day his musings had been inadvertently sent to her. “She’ll get them today,” he
said. He felt his panic begin to rise and he took a few deep breaths to calm himself.

*Can’t do anything about it.*

*I know…but it doesn’t stop me from being scared.*

*Read her letter.*

Harry looked down at it, his finger tracing the place where she’d written her name in the
corner. “I can’t.”

He stood up from his stool and headed out the back door, leaving her letter on the counter. He
sat in one of the chairs on his deck and stared out over the ocean. “Bugger,” he said, smacking his
hand against the table. He stood up to retrieve the letter and then fell back down into the chair
before he could take a single step forward. “What is wrong with me?” he asked. “It’s just a
letter…a letter from my best friend. What is my problem?”

From where he sat he could hear the seagulls calling from overhead. His eyes searched the sky
and he watched them swoop and play, landing on the rocks before soaring into the sky again. “I wish
I could fly. I wish I could just jump on my broom and leave all of this behind.”

He closed his eyes and allowed his imagination to take him in the air. He was soaring high in
the sky, swooping down over the water, his toes skimming the top of the waves as he rode. His heart
soared in his chest as he rose higher and higher into the sky. A light gleamed above him and for a
moment he envisioned it as the Snitch. He reached for it as a foghorn sounded in the distance. He
focused his now open eyes and saw a boat far out in the ocean, the sun glinting from the mast. He
laughed at the sight of his ‘Snitch’.

He walked back into the house, chancing a glance at the letter before he walked down the hallway
to his room to shower and dress before Tanya arrived. He could swear the letter was calling to him
in Hermione’s voice… “It’s okay, Harry. Open it.”

He spent the next 20 minutes in the shower, letting the water fall over his head in icy sheets.
It was invigorating and by the time he got out he was feeling much better. He stepped out of the
shower, dried off, and went to the sink to shave, comb his hair, brush his teeth…all of the things
he felt he ought to do out of respect for Tanya. When he finished, he went to search his room for
clothes to wear. He had little in the way of nice clothes, as he’d assumed he wouldn’t be going out
much. He chose a pair of dark jeans with a deep, hunter green dress shirt. When he was ready to go,
he glanced at the clock…6:23.

“That much time gone already?” he muttered, regretting his lack of argument when Tanya had told
him he had no choice.

He walked into the living room and paced the floor. He fingered through his drawings, some of
them he’d attempted to draw with charcoal in the hopes that the blurrier version would hide what
was missing from her eyes. He set Ron’s picture on top…the only one he’d attempted of his best mate
the entire week. The rest of the stack was dedicated solely to failed attempts to capture the
essence of Hermione.

He walked over to the counter and picked up the book Hermione had sent him. He went to flip
through the pages but the book opened to a spot somewhere near the middle where three Muggle
pictures of Hermione had been tucked away.

He picked them up with shaky fingers. In the first picture she was sitting on a bench in what
Harry assumed to be her parent’s backyard. She held a flower in her hand and she was looking down
at it, her eyes appeared unfocused as though her thoughts had taken her miles away. He’d never seen
her look more beautiful, but her eyes nearly broke his heart. He turned the picture over. The date
on the back showed that the picture had been taken little more than a week prior. The caption was
written in a hand that Harry didn’t recognize. *Lost in thought,* was all it said.

In the next picture she was sitting on the same bench, smiling widely at the photographer. For
all intents and purposes, she looked like a happy young woman, her smile beautiful. But Harry had
begun to take a particular interest in her eyes and when he looked there now, he could see that the
smile hadn’t reached them. There was…an *emptiness* there. *What’s going on, Hermione?*
he wondered as he continued to look down at her.

*She misses you.*

Harry shook his head. “It has to be more than that.”

He turned the picture over and in the same unrecognizable scrawl he read, *The* *smile
has gone from your eyes.*

Harry nearly choked on the lump that had suddenly lodged itself in his throat.

The third and final picture was one of Hermione lying back on the grass, a picture in her hand.
The photo was taken from such an angle that Harry could just make out the picture that he had in
his room…the last one taken of the three of them together. Her finger rested on the place where he
knew his own picture to be and as he gazed at it, his heart seemed to skip a beat. He turned the
photo over, almost scared of what he’d find. In Hermione’s all too-familiar writing he found the
words…*Missing you.*

The lump in Harry’s throat tightened as he picked up the first picture and lightly touched his
finger to her face. “What’s happening?” he asked her. “I don’t understand this.”

*Open her letter.*

Harry picked up her letter and carefully broke the seal.

With shaking fingers he nervously pulled out the letter. He didn’t understand his own
apprehension. It made no sense to him at all.

*It was mailed the same day as yours; it makes sense to be apprehensive. You’ve opened your
heart to her…inadvertently, granted…but you have. It’s alright to be nervous.*

He unfolded the letter, the words of his subconscious playing over and over his mind.

*Dear Harry,*

*Hi. I don’t really know what to say to you, so I’m just going to let my thoughts flow. Don’t
mind the scribbles you might find here and there, I don’t want to start over and I refuse to use
magic to clean it all up. You’ll just have to overlook them and forgive me.*

*I’ve been talking with my mum tonight. Trying to put things into perspective. What things?
You might wonder. Nothing short of life, love, feelings…all of the things that I’m too young and/or
naïve to understand. I don’t really know if I’m any closer to understanding the truth, but I’m
hoping I will soon. Perhaps, if I’m lucky, writing this letter will help.*

*We spent a lot of time talking about you…talking about me…about us. Us? What us? Is that what
you’re thinking? I don’t know what us, Harry. I wish that I could tell you, but that would require
an understanding of things that just don’t make any sense right now. I miss you. I want to see you.
Just one look, Harry…just one. I think then I’ll know…I think then I will start to
understand.*

*Do you miss me? I mean, I know you tell me that you do when we talk on the phone. And
sometimes, I think I can really hear it in your voice…and I can feel it in my heart. What I don’t
know is if I’m hearing and feeling only what I want to hear and feel. Does that even make any
sense? Making sense is something I’ve never struggled with before. But somehow, since you’ve been
gone, nothing makes sense to me anymore.*

*My thoughts are scattered everywhere. I think back to the past and forward to the future
before I can take a single breath. I see you beside me, I feel you pull away. I see it all
beginning, I see it all ending…I see it all ending, I see it all beginning. It’s all so damned
confusing. How is it possible to go through so much of life feeling totally in control of yourself
to suddenly have it all turn around and become meaningless nonsense? Everything is jumbled in my
head and right now I wonder which way is up.*

*It’s not a good time to write this.*

*There are things I want to tell you…things I think you should know. But I’m scared. I’ve
never been scared to talk to you, to confide in you. And yet…now I am frightened beyond
comprehension. I wish I could explain it. I wish I could just come out and say it…that I could just
make it all make sense. I don’t know how you feel. I don’t know if I’m going insane. I don’t know
if anything is real anymore. You’ve been gone for so long…forever it seems.*

*Bloody hell, Harry, when are you coming back to me? I never knew I could miss someone so
much.*

*I need to walk away from this…just like you walked away from me. I’m sorry. You didn’t
deserve that. I’ll be back…I think I need some air.*

*I’m sorry, Harry. This is just…it’s difficult. I think I’m*

“Damnit,” Harry cursed, the persistent doorbell drawing him away from the letter. Three times it
rang and he couldn’t ignore it any longer. He set the letter on the counter and walked quickly to
the door, pulling it open in a huff.

“Hi, Harry,” Tanya said, smiling happily at him from where she stood on the other side of the
door. “6:45, are you about ready?”

“Oh, er, yeah,” he mumbled. He stepped to the side and gestured with his hand. “Just um, come on
in. I’ll be ready in a minute.”

Tanya stepped inside and looked around. Everywhere she looked around the living room she saw art
paper and supplies. “You’ve been busy,” she said, walking around.

Harry followed her gaze. “Yeah, I suppose,” he said, fidgeting slightly at Tanya’s obvious
interest in his art. He walked over to the letter and picked it up; he folded it and held it in his
hand with the envelope.

Meanwhile, Tanya walked toward the stack of papers with the drawing of Ron on top. “Oh!” she
suddenly cried out. “How cute.”

Harry started and walked quickly to stand beside her. “Cute? What’s cute?” he asked
abruptly.

“You like that guy from MAD magazine, too,” she said, pointing to Ron’s picture. “That’s a
really good likeness right there.”

“That’s my best friend Ron,” Harry stated blankly. “Doesn’t look a lot like him, but it’s close,
I suppose. What’s MAD magazine anyway?”

“Never mind,” Tanya replied, rolling her eyes at her own stupidity. “It’s nothing.”

“Okay,” Harry said, shrugging his shoulders. “I’m just gonna get my coat,” he said, pointing
down the hallway. “I’ll be right back.” He walked quickly down the hall and closed his bedroom
door. He unfolded the letter he held in his hand. He just needed to finish that last sentence.

*I’m sorry, Harry. This is just…it’s difficult. I think I’m falling, Harry. And I don’t know
how to stop myself. I can’t make it stop.*

“Falling? Falling how?” he wondered aloud. He heard a noise from down the hall and he quickly
grabbed his coat. “This better not take long,” he said, gazing at the letter and envelope he’d
tossed on his bed.

When Harry walked into the living room he saw Tanya standing beside the counter, looking down at
something lying there. He stopped dead in his tracks when he saw what it was. She was staring at
the pictures of Hermione he’d left lying on top of his book.

She started when she heard him approach. “Is this her?” she asked, looking from Harry to the
pictures.

Harry nodded, unable to speak as he closed the distance between them.

“She’s beautiful,” Tanya said, looking from Hermione to Harry. “What’s wrong with her?”

Harry shook his head, not understanding the question at all. “Wrong?”

“She’s not happy. Look,” she said, pointing at Hermione’s eyes, “if she was really happy, you’d
see a spark in there. She looks so sad.”

Harry picked up the picture and stared at it for a moment. “Could you excuse me?” he said,
looking up at Tanya. “I’ll be right back.” He walked quickly back to his room and picked up the
picture of him and Hermione he had sitting there.

*…if she was really happy, you’d see a spark in there.* *She looks so sad.*

Harry looked at the picture and immediately he saw the spark…the twinkle in her eyes that he’d
been looking for all week. “What puts that sparkle there?” he asked, watching as she glanced up at
him, laid her head against his chest, wrapped her arms around him, and then closed her eyes.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was Harry’s birthday and Hermione sat on the window seat in her room, staring unseeingly out
the window and thinking about him. She wondered if he’d gotten her gift. If so, she hoped he liked
it and that it would of some help to him. Since she couldn’t be there to help him personally, she
had to do it as best she could from thousands of miles away.

The knock on the door seemed to come from miles away and she easily ignored it. She didn’t want
to think about anyone else right now. It was time for thinking about Harry…time for wondering how
he would react to the letter she— well, someone anyway…had sent to him. She’d fretted all week
about that mystery woman who took her letter from her hand and placed it in the mail slot. She
wondered how much of her life that moment in time cost her. She was sure that Harry didn’t feel the
same way she did and now she was almost sure he’d never want to talk to her again.

She wanted to call him. To let him hear her wish him a happy birthday, but she’d held herself
back. She was counting on her gift getting there in time so he’d know she was thinking about
him.

The knock sounded again. “Yeah?” she called out reluctantly.

The door opened slowly and her mum stepped into the room. “You ready to eat yet, honey?” she
asked gently. “You’ve hardly eaten all week.”

Hermione continued to look out the window as she shook her head. “No,” she said quietly, “not
hungry.”

Her mum took a few steps toward her. “It’s not good for you to not eat, sweetheart. I’m worried
about you.”

“I’m fine,” she responded in that same quiet, hollow voice.

“This came for you today,” her mum said, holding an envelope out to her. “It’s from Harry.”

Hermione’s head jerked up and she glanced hopefully from the letter to her mum.

Her mum shook it in her direction. “Take it,” she said, chuckling softly. “I don’t think it
bites.”

Hermione reached a tentative hand forward and took the letter from her mum’s hand. “Thank you,”
she said, her voice suddenly hoarse as she struggled around the knot in her throat.

“You’re welcome,” her mum replied, combing her fingers through Hermione’s hair. “Come and eat
soon?” she pleaded.

“Soon.”

Her mum kissed the top of her head and nodded. She looked back once before she stepped out the
door. “We love you, sweetheart.”

Hermione smiled. “I know. I love you, too.”

Her mum walked through the door and closed it quietly behind her.

With shaking fingers Hermione carefully opened the envelope. She pulled out the letter for Ron
and tossed it to her bed. Next, she pulled out the many pages of her own letter.

“What is all this?” she asked aloud. “Harry couldn’t write this much.”

She began to rifle through the pages and wondered at how she could still be conscious when it
was apparent to her that her heart had stopped beating.

The tears began to well in her eyes and it was impossible for her to stop their flow as she
began to read his words…

Thoughts about Hermione: a first attempt at sorting them out.


They say you're always welcome at home. That's how I always knew that the Dursley's
was never really where I belonged. That only leaves two places for me now. The Burrow...and
anywhere you are. I know I'm always welcome at Hogwarts, but Hogwarts could never be a home
without you there. So now I wonder, where would my home be tonight? Are you curled up in your bed?
Sleeping peacefully, as you wait for a new day to begin? Or have you gone somewhere else tonight?
Wherever you are, I am with you. Can you feel me?


Do you know how much I miss you? It’s painful for me to know that I can’t be there to comfort
you when now is when you likely need me most. You’ve always been my source of strength, but I know
I need to learn to be my own source. I’m working on that, but it doesn’t ease the pain that always
seems to accompany my thoughts of you.


The sun will soon be rising where you are and I wonder…will you see the same colors in your
rising sun that I see in mine as it sets? As you awaken and the world around you is welcoming the
sounds of a brand new day, my world begins to sleep, welcoming the quiet sounds of the night. As
your dreaming ends, mine begins. Will my dream start where yours ended? Is it possible for us to
share one dream with so many miles between us?


The sun rises for you as it sets for me. But for a while, a few short hours, I look up at the
moonlit sky and I am at peace. Everything feels right the moment I remember...the moon I am awed by
at this very moment is the same moon you watched rise just a few short hours ago. I am reassured by
the sight of it that you are never truly far from me. Miles mean nothing when we share the same
sun, moon, and stars.


Again, I wonder...


Are we thinking the same thing as we cast our eyes toward the heavens?


I’m scared, Hermione. It’s only been a couple of days and I’m already wondering how I’m going to
make it without you. Is this what love feels like? Is it the pain in my chest that overwhelms me
when I think about you, or is that only there because I miss you? In seven years I’ve never been
happy when I’ve had to be away from you. Why am I just now realizing that? This isn’t what I
wanted. It’s not what I’m looking for. I can’t ever tell you.


This can’t be love, it hurts too damn much and it’s too confusing. It must be the dreams I’ve
been having…it’s all just too much for me right now. If only I could talk to you about it. No one
understands me quite like you do.

“Oh, Harry,” she sighed through her tears. “What are we going to do? What does all of this
mean?”



10. Chapter 8 - Realizations
----------------------------

**A/N:** The legend of Face Rock is real. If interested, you can find both the rock and
legend at the bottom of the page found
here…http://www.spectacularoregon.com/coast/south/bandon.htm

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

**Realizations**

“Harry?” He heard Tanya call out. “Is everything all right?”

Harry gazed at the photo for a second longer. “Later,” he said to it as he carefully set it back
down on the night table. “Soon,” he promised. Reluctantly he walked toward the bedroom door to meet
Tanya.

He opened the door only to discover that she was standing just on the other side, preparing to
knock. “Sorry,” she gasped, lowering her hand and jumping back. “You scared me,” she added,
laughing timorously.

“No problem,” he said bleakly. Not really having heard a word she said, he began to walk past
her. “You ready?”

Tanya eyed him for a moment and then reached for his arm, turning him around to face her.
“Harry, what’s wrong?” she asked as she studied him closely. “What is it? Are you all right?”

Harry closed his eyes and took an exaggerated breath before placing his hand over hers and
affording her a half-hearted smile. “I’m fine, thanks,” he softly replied. He released her hand and
began to walk down the hallway toward the living room. “Or, I will be anyway,” he added in a
whisper.

Harry led her to the front door, opened it and stepped aside, allowing her to exit first. He
looked back at his pile of art paper before he closed the door and locked it behind him, instantly
regretting his decision to leave ‘Hermione’ behind. He didn’t hear the phone ring as he took the
first step down the porch toward Tanya and her waiting car.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hermione had cried herself to sleep as she clutched Harry’s letters tightly in her hand. She
hadn’t read his real letter, but she’d read the beautiful things he’d written in his ramblings.
Before sleep claimed her, her thoughts were scrambled in her head and nothing had made sense. In
waking, everything seemed to make less sense than it ever had before, and that realization
terrified her.

The letter she’d written to him had been jumbled and scattered as she’d tried to write down the
millions of thoughts that had been racing through her head following the talk with her mum. But
that was nothing compared to the way her thoughts raced now.

She awoke hours later and looked at the clock…2:33am. She blinked her blurry, tear-stained eyes
and flipped on the bedroom lamp, blinking rapidly as her eyes adjusted to the sudden brightness.
She stood and stretched, her muscles aching from being curled into the window seat for so long. She
shook her legs, trying to regain her circulation, and then she looked again at the papers she held
in her hand.

*He loves you*.

*He never said that.*

*Not in so many words, but it’s obvious that he does.*

“That’s only what I wish for,” she replied in a whispered response. “Only how I want it to
be.”

She sat back down on the window seat and rifled through the letters. As she did, she found
herself longing to hold his hand in a storm, or to sit beside him on an ocean rock as the water
splashed around them, drenching them with its spray as they laughed like carefree children. Or to
walk beside him on the beach watching in silent wonder as their footsteps disappeared in the
healing sand.

Tears reached her eyes as she read through Harry’s thoughts about being together in a storm.

*I wish you were here to watch with me. I wonder what you'd think of it. Would you be
scared? If you were, would your hand in mine bring you comfort? I think that's important,
don't you? Finding someone who can offer you comfort when you're scared or companionship
when you're lonely.*

*Lonely…that's a lonely word isn't it?*

Without conscious thought, she began to answer him in her head…

I wish you were here to watch with me ~ *Me* *too*

I wonder what you’d think of it ~ *I’d think it beautiful so long as you were there with
me*

Would you be scared ~ *Not* *with you beside me*

Would your hand in mind bring you comfort ~ *As* *much as yours in mine would bring
comfort to you*

I think that’s important, don’t you ~ *Yes…it’s what we’ve always done. It’s all I
know*

Lonely…that’s a lonely word isn’t it ~

“It gets lonelier all the time,” she whispered aloud.

Of what she’d read, the one page that touched her most was the one describing his walk on the
beach. She could feel his heartache when she read it. She could feel the pain of his past and how
much he wanted to let go of it so he could live his future. It was those thoughts she knew could
bring him the most healing.

*I watched as the sand on the beach seemed to heal itself today. Footprints, the only evidence
of my existence within that infinitesimal space of time, vanished behind me almost immediately as I
continued my journey across its surface. Is that what life is like? As we move forward, do the
traces of what we left behind disappear? Are they forgotten? If so, how quickly? Do the things we
step on along the way heal as quickly as the beach did today? What then are we left with, when all
we have is before us and yesterday lies forgotten?*


*I don't want to look back. There's so little in my past that I want to remember…so
little worth remembering at this point. My healing will take longer then the sand, I know that, the
question now is…Will it come in time? And, will it be as complete as the healing sand or will there
always be an outline, a shadow, or a trace to remind me?*


*I'm feeling melancholy now. Saddened by all that I've seen…yet emboldened by all that
I haven't. So much more lies ahead then what could ever be left behind. I just have to find the
path that gets me there. So many questions and so few answers…and now I wonder—*


*Do I really have to find them alone? I've always thought so…until now.*

“Let me help you, Harry,” she softly pleaded as she slowly ran her finger across his words. “You
don’t have to do this alone. You never again have to do anything alone. I love you.”

She started when her mind registered the words her mouth had spoken. “I love you,” she repeated,
her voice growing in strength and assurance. “I love you.” She began to laugh as her words echoed
around her as they continued to fall from her lips. She wanted to scream it to the world. It was
something she’d probably always known, but it was the first time she’d actually spoken the words
aloud.

Instantly her heart began to ache as a sudden truth entered her mind and began to plague on her.
“I could be in this alone.” She looked desperately at a picture of Harry that sat on her dresser.
“Do you love me?” she asked, as she stood to retrieve it. She was terrified of the answer and she
felt the first twinge of her heart breaking as more and more the logical, sometimes obnoxious part
of her brain overrode her heart and convinced her that he didn’t. *“How could he after all?”*
Her logic told her. *“He left you, didn’t he?”* Her features fell and she sagged into the
window seat, laying her head against the cool glass of the window, and letting the lone tear
descend down her cheek unchecked.

She glanced at the clock…3:05.

*You should call him, its only 7:05 where he is.*

*He doesn’t want to talk to me. He hasn’t called in a week.*

*You haven’t called him either, have you forgotten?*

“No,” she muttered. Before she could change her mind, she reached for the phone. Harry’s phone
rang four times before the answering machine picked up.

“Har—”

Hermione hung up the phone. “I can’t talk to a machine,” she muttered. “I just can’t do it.”

She climbed into bed and willed herself to sleep until the time came for her try again.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Harry and Tanya arrived at the restaurant at 7:15 sharp and were surprisingly led straight to
their table. Immediately Harry’s eyes took in the view of the ocean. “It’s beautiful,” he said,
relieved to have something to distract him from Hermione…his new obsession.

“Do you see that rock out there?” Tanya asked, pointing to a rock just to the right of where
they sat. Harry looked out the window and nodded his head, “Yeah.”

“That’s called Face Rock,” she replied. “Can you see the face in it?”

Harry stared at the rock for what felt like ages, occasionally cocking his head from one side to
the other. “I think so,” he finally replied, turning his unsure gaze upon her.

“If you start to the right of the rock you can see the chin. As your eyes move left, you can see
her lips and then her nose. If you look really closely, you can see her eye,” she said, pointing
toward the right of the rock and moving her hand to the left, tracing the image as she spoke.

Harry stared at the rock while Tanya described it. With each detail she gave he could make out
more and more of the face that lay there, looking forever skyward. “I see it,” he said, the
excitement in his voice barely concealed.

“You want to hear the legend?” she asked.

Harry turned to look at her and nodded his head eagerly. “Yeah.”

Tanya laughed lightly at his reaction.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, lowering his head slightly. “Yes, I’d definitely like to hear it.”

“It’s all right, Harry,” she laughed. “Don’t worry about it. You don’t always have to be the
epitome of polite, you know? I like it more when you’re relaxed.”

“I’ll have to work on that then, won’t I?” he laughed.

“The legend of the rock,” she began, looking out at the rock and away from his handsome, smiling
face, “has it that a beautiful Indian princess, Ewanua, of the Nah-So-Mah tribe, was visiting here
with her father, Chief Siskiyou. Seatka, the evil spirit of the ocean, frightened the local tribes,
but Ewanua, being born of a mountain tribe, had no fear of him. Following a feast to celebrate her
and her father’s visit, Ewanua took her pets, a dog and a mother cat and her kittens, to the edge
of the sea. She set them down and swam out into the ocean,” she paused to look at him at him,
trying to assess whether or not she was actually holding his interest.

“Please, keep going,” Harry said, looking between her and the rock. “What happened next?”

Tanya smiled and continued. “Suddenly, Seatka grabbed her. Her dog, Komax, fearing for his
master, swam out into the dark water and bit Seatka. Hurt and furious, Seatka kicked the dog off
and threw him, and the mother cat and her kittens, out into the sea. Seatka’s eyes held a dangerous
power that the people feared. Filled with rage over her beloved pets, she somehow remembered the
warnings of the local tribes and she stubbornly refused to look directly at him. They say she lies
there, looking toward the sky, continuing her refusal to look directly at Seatka, who sits nearby.
Do you see those rocks out there?” she asked, pointing to a cluster of rocks which sat beyond the
face of Ewanua.

“The ones that are hardly visible out there? The ones out past her?”

“Yes, those are the ones,” Tanya replied. “They are said to be her pets. They wait there in
vain, day in and day out, for their mistress to arise from the cold ocean waters.”

“They’re guarding her?”

“Yes. They continue to protect her.”

Harry looked up at her. “Do you have anyone like that in your life?” he asked curiously.

“Like what?” Tanya asked, knowing already what he meant but too saddened by her own answer to
reply straight away.

“Someone to protect you, no matter what the circumstances,” he said.

“Does anyone?” she asked, her reply followed by a tremulous chuckle.

“Yes,” he replied, returning his gaze to the rock. “I do.”

“Someone you protect or someone to protect you?”

“Both,” he replied, looking straight into her eyes. “I’d die for her.”

“And she’d die for you,” her words were more a statement than a question, but Harry replied
anyway.

“She nearly did,” he said, his eyes clouding over with the memory. “More than once.”

“You’re lucky to have someone who loves you so much,” Tanya said softly. “”She’s lucky too, to
have a guy like you loving her.”

“Love,” Harry repeated softly to himself. He raised his eyes to hers. “Love?”

Tanya chuckled. “You mean you don’t know?”

“Know what?”

Tanya scoffed. “Even I can see it, Harry, and I’ve seen you what? Three, four times?”

“Tanya, I’m sorry,” he said, his mind preoccupied with new realizations. “Can I make this up to
you? I um, I need to go. Can you take me home, please?”

Tanya nodded her head. “Yeah, I can take you home, Harry.”

Harry looked around the restaurant. “Why didn’t a waiter come?” he asked. “Do they usually take
this long?”

“Not normally,” she replied. “He’s actually tried to come by a couple of times. I take it you
didn’t see me wave him off?”

“No, sorry.” He looked at her curiously. “But why would you do that?”

She stood and grabbed her purse. “Just a feeling,” she replied, trying to keep her voice light.
“You ready?”

“Oh, uh, yeah,” he replied, jumping up and rushing forward to join her. “I’m sorry,” he said
sincerely, placing his hand on her arm. “I know you wanted to do something nice for me. And I
appreciate that, I really do. It’s just…” he paused and took a semi-deep breath as he tried to
think of what more he could say.

She placed her hand over his and smiled when he looked at her. “Does she know?”

“I don’t know,” he replied with an audible sigh of relief that she understood. “But you can bet
I’m going to find out.”

“Lucky girl,” she repeated for at least the third time since she’d known him. “Let’s go.”

Harry took her arm and laced it through his own, escorting her outside and to the car. She
handed him the keys and he opened the door for her. “You all right?” he asked when she settled into
the driver’s seat.

“Yeah. I’m good.”

Harry handed her the keys and shut the door. She hit the power button to unlock his door and he
fell in quickly. “Thanks again,” he said, the moment he closed the door. “Are you starving?” he
asked, concerned now that he realized how selfish he’d been. “If you want, you can stop
somewhere…my treat. I’ll give you that along with a sincere request for your company at a real
restaurant very soon. I just…I really need to get home tonight. There’s something I have to
do.”

Tanya hesitated to start the car. “Will you bring her here?” she asked curiously.

“I don’t think…” Harry shook his head. “I’m not…. No, I don’t think so.”

“Mmm,” she hummed knowingly. “When you do, I’d like to meet her.”

“You mean, *if*,” Harry replied, stressing his response.

“That’s what I said, Harry…IF.”

“Yes,” he said, nodding his head. “If she comes here, which I’m sure she won’t, I’ll be sure to
introduce you.”

“Great,” Tanya replied. She started the car and put her finger on the button of the radio. “Do
you mind?”

“No, not at all.”

“I hope you don’t mind gospel,” she said as she pushed the button. The sound of a woman’s
beautiful voice filled the car and Harry listened intently.

*I'm raining on the inside;
My heart wells up with tears that start to pour.
I'm raining on the inside,
But then Your cries of love break through,
And I fall in love with You once more.*

“Who…what is this?” Harry asked, gesturing toward the stereo.

“Oh, it’s Amy Grant. The song’s called, ‘Raining on the Inside’.”

“Hmm,” Harry hummed thoughtfully.

“You like it?” she asked, chancing a glance at him. “It’s one of my favorites.

“Yeah,” he replied. “I do like it. Kind of sad, isn’t it?”

“A little,” she agreed. “But it doesn’t have to be. It’s about friendship, and love breaking
through the loneliness. Everything is good in the end when you remember the love.”

Harry sat in silence and listened to the remainder of the song.

*But when we're raining on the inside,
Let His cries of love break through,
Know that He loves you, once more....

Sometimes I'm raining on the inside,
But then Your cries of love break through,
And I fall in love with You once more.*

“Can we listen to that again?” he asked. “I missed most of it when I started talking.”

“Why don’t you just take it,” Tanya replied, ejecting the tape and handing it to him. “I have
more.”

“Are you sure?” he asked, his eyes wide with surprise.

“Yeah. It’s no problem.”

When she pulled up to a stop sign she rifled through her tapes and grabbed another Amy Grant to
put in the cassette player. “Haven’t upgraded to CDs yet,” she said apologetically. “Your house has
a tape player though, so it should be all right.”

The music began to play, this time it was near the end of a song. “‘I’m Gonna Fly’ is next. I
really like that one, too.”

As much as Harry liked the first one, he decided to listen closely to this one.

*All of my friends are happy to stay
Here in this yard day after day*

*But something inside me has called me away
I don't understand but I know I can't stay

I'm gonna fly
No one knows where
But I'm gonna fly
I'm lighter than air

Cause I have felt for the first time
I can be myself
No more faces to hide behind
Just a smile and a dream that's mine
Even if I am the only one who wants to fly

I'm gonna fly
No one knows where
But I'm gonna fly
I soar thru the air
* Tanya pulled up into Harry’s driveway. She put the car into park and turned to face him.
“Fast food next time,” she said, rolling her eyes and laughing. “You going to call her?”

“Honestly, I don’t know what I’m going to do,” he replied. “I don’t know what I need to do.”

“Speaking as a girl here,” she said, chuckling softly, “I’d love a call. It’s not everyday a guy
you love tells you he loves you back.”

Harry looked at her in surprise. “She never said she loved me.”

“Okay, Harry,” Tanya acquiesced. “You would know better than anyone, wouldn’t you?”

“I do know her better than anyone,” he said, feeling suddenly defensive.

Tanya placed her hand on his arm. “I’m not trying to upset you, Harry, relax. I just
wonder…”

“What?” Harry asked, struggling to retain his patience. He wanted to hear a woman’s point of
view…even if that woman knew very little about him and Hermione.

Tanya shrugged. “I just wonder if maybe she doesn’t understand it either. I mean,” she raised
her eyes to his and watched him closely, “you just realized it yourself, didn’t you? Maybe she just
needs you to tell her.”

“But what if she doesn’t feel that way?” he asked, worry creeping into his voice.

“You’re kidding me, right?” she said, laughing loudly.

Harry shook his head.

“I saw her picture. There’s something missing in her eyes, and honestly, Harry, I think that
something is you.”

Harry shook his head and opened his mouth to reply.

“Hang on,” she said, interrupting him before he could speak. “I’ve seen the way you look at her.
I’ve heard the way to talk about her. She looks like an intelligent woman. You couldn’t possibly
love her the way you do if she didn’t return that love. Besides,” she said, her cheeks turning the
lightest shade of pink, “I don’t think it’s possible for a girl to spend that much time around you
and not fall in love.”

“Oh,” was the only sound that escaped him. It was far from intelligent, but it was the best that
he could do under the circumstances.

Tanya laughed. “Go get her,” she said, pushing him toward the door. “Call her, tell her you love
her, get her out here, do whatever it is you have to do, Harry. I’d bet everything I own that she
loves you too.”

“Thanks,” he replied, feeling something inexplicable begin to course through him. It was an
overwhelming feeling that he couldn’t quite place, but it was a feeling he’d not soon forget.
*I’d bet everything I own that she loves you too.* “For talking to me, for listening, for not
forgetting my birthday, for this,” he held up the tape for her to see, “for…”

“Would you just go already?” she laughed, pointing toward the door. “Go get started on the rest
of your life.”

Harry leaned across the car and, in a gesture that surprised even him, gave her a kiss on the
cheek. “Thanks for being so great.” He reached for the handle and jumped out of the car.

“You’re welcome,” she replied as he closed the door. Her heart was hammering in her chest when
her hand found her cheek and she smiled mistily…*such a lucky girl,* she thought. *I wonder
if I’ll ever find a guy like that.* Recovering quickly she rolled down her window and called out
to him as he walked past her car, “Good luck, Harry.”

Harry stopped and turned around. “Thanks.”

“That girl who stole your heart? She must be someone special,” she said. “I’m looking forward to
meeting her. Goodbye, Harry.”

Harry waved. “See you, Tanya. Dinner, soon.”

She raised her hand to let him know she heard him, then backed out of the drive. “I hope she
knows how lucky she is,” she said softly to herself as she drove away.

“I think I’m the lucky one,” he mouthed to himself.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Harry watched as Tanya pulled out of sight. He was sorry that they hadn’t enjoyed dinner
together, but he really needed to…to what? Call her? At that moment, nothing was more important
than figuring it out. He went into the house and walked immediately to the phone. He picked it up
and began to dial.

*“Wait!”* his inner voice shouted…

Immediately, Harry hung up the phone and turned to view the time. “Bloody hell,” he chuckled to
himself. “Almost 4am. *Not* a good time to call.” Resigning himself to waiting a few more
hours, he went to his room to get her letter.

He sat back on his bed and quickly scanned the paper until he found where he’d left off…

*Bloody hell, Harry, when are you coming back to me? I never knew I could miss someone so
much.*

*I need to walk away from this…just like you walked away from me. I’m sorry. You didn’t
deserve that. I’ll be back…I think I need some air.*

*I’m sorry, Harry. This is just…it’s difficult. I think I’m falling. And I don’t know how to
stop myself. I can’t make it stop.*

*Do you remember what it was like in our third year when you fell off your broom? I bet that
if you’d had time, you would’ve thought about how awful it was going to be when you finally hit the
ground. I wouldn’t mention it if something bad had come as a result of it, but I need you to
understand. That’s how I feel right now, Harry. I feel like the bottom is going to drop out from
under me and I’m going to plummet to the ground…and I’m powerless to do anything to stop it. I
don’t have anyone here to cushion my fall the way you did. No, when I fall, it’s going to hurt. And
it scares me. In fact, I can’t recall a time when I’ve ever been more scared.*

*You’re slipping away from me, aren’t you? I can feel it, I’m sure I can. Once you’ve gone,
Harry that will be it…the bottom will drop out and I’ll fall. If you listen, you’ll hear the
resounding crash followed closely by the unmistakable sound of the shattering of my heart.*

*Do you understand me anymore? Do you know what I’m saying? I can’t…do this. I’m not sure I
can keep going like this. I have this hollow feeling inside me. It’s been there since the day I
left Hogwarts…the day I walked away from you…and you ran away from me.*

*My mum thinks I’m in love with you. Can you believe that?*

*Love….*

*What is that? Am I too young to understand it…much less feel it?*

*I was upset when I hung up the phone after talking with you tonight. As much as it hurts me
to admit it, I lied to you. I didn’t mean to, Harry. Lying to you is something I’ve vowed never to
do. But tonight…tonight I couldn’t help it. I couldn’t stop it. You wanted to know if I could
really see why you couldn’t trust Ron with me. The truth is, I don’t…I don’t see it. Well, I
couldn’t then anyway—*

*Any answer would be speculation at this point…or wishful thinking. I’m afraid of wishful
thinking, so I’ll leave you to decide for yourself about Ron. This is one that I simply cannot
answer for you. I’m sorry I lied. And I’m even more sorry that I can’t help you this time.*

*Have you ever done or felt something, and have it not feel real? Not something bad, just
something…different. That’s how you described your time with Ginny sixth year, isn’t it? Why do you
suppose it felt that way? It feels like a hundred lifetimes ago. Nothing from that year seems real
anymore…it’s so hard to believe it’s barely been two years. Nothing I ever had with Ron felt real
either, can you believe that? All that time we were together and none of it felt real…nothing felt
right. I always wondered why…I think I’m finally beginning to understand it. It’s impossible to
feel something for one person when the feelings you’re looking for have already been stolen by
someone else…*

*You.*

*Yes, you read that right. You are the reason that nothing makes sense. You are the reason
that everything in my life seems unreal. You’ve left my thoughts a jumbled mess. You have to know
that from this letter. I’m writing as quickly as I can because I can’t keep up with the thoughts
that are racing through my head. As I said, nothing makes sense. My mind is racing at 1000
kilometers per hour and there’s only one thing that can stop it…*

*Once again … YOU!*

*Damnit**! What is this hold you have over me…this power? Can you feel it? You have to be
able to feel it, because I certainly can. It’s the only thing I feel anymore. All I feel is this
overwhelming urge to see you, to hug you, to hold you. I need you, Harry. I need to know that
you’re all right. I need to hear your voice, and see your face. I need to look into your eyes to
discover for myself…the real truth. How do you feel about me, Harry?*

*I’m not the kind of girl that dreams are made of. Men don’t give me a second thought. Women
don’t envy me. I’m as ordinary as they come. But you, Harry…you are truly extraordinary. You are
every woman’s dream come true. All I have to do is close my eyes for one millisecond and I see your
eyes boring into mine. Do you have any idea what that image has done to me tonight? No, of course
you don’t. How could you, right? Am I fooling myself into believing there could be more between us?
Could you ever really care for me as more than a friend? Could you ever lo…*

*Forget that thought. It’s something that I’m probably better off not knowing the answer to.
My mum did tell me something that I found, well…somewhat disheartening. The answers to this dilemma
cannot be found in a book. It’s something I and/or we (hopefully) will have to figure out on my/our
own. You know how I’ve always counted on books to provide me with any answer to every
question…well, apparently not this time. I’m not sure I know how to look to myself for the answer.
The only way I can think, is to look through you first. Does that make sense? Probably not, it’s
4am and I’m rambling. Sleep is eluding me. I’m not sure I’ll get there until I’ve said my peace.
Knowing me…that could be a while…especially since I don’t understand what it is that I’m trying to
say.*

*I do know this, Harry. I’m going to put this letter into an envelope, I’m going to seal it up
and place a stamp on it, then I’ll address it to you. Then, after all that, I’m going to put it on
the table beside my bed, where I can stare at it everyday and argue with myself about whether or
not to put it in the post. I know, in my heart, that I should send it…the problem is with my head,
which has decidedly voted against that choice.*

*It’s so unusual for me to be so confused. I wonder if I should just re-write the entire
thing. You know, organize my thoughts and then start all over. The trouble with that is I just
can’t bring myself to do it. I thought that writing this would help me, that it would be
therapeutic. Apparently its worse now then it was before and my confusion knows no bounds.*

*Up is above me and down is below, right? I’m kidding…*

*Of course it is…because I’m not falling up, am I? But you know, truth be told, I’m not really
falling down either…I’m falling ‘in’…or, to be more precise, I’ve fallen ‘in’…*

*Do you understand that? I can’t say more than that right now. I’m too scared of what it all
might mean…too scared of what your answer will be. I hope that you understand me. In fact, I pray
you understand me. Rejection would hurt entirely too much…so I’ve said all that I can say. I’m
going under the assumption that by now you know.*

*Is there the slightest chance that your feelings could reflect mine? Whatever this is, it’s
powerful…and it’s painful. You’ll likely never see this letter, so there’s a strong chance that I
may never know. Pressure is the last thing I want to put on you, especially now. You’re out there
searching for yourself, not for someone else…and certainly not for me. I understand that…I accept
that. It’s the main reason why I doubt my own ability to mail this letter. If you come to me, I
want it to be of your own free will. If you don’t come, then somehow I know…I’ll have to find a way
to move on.*

*Tell me something (assuming you get this letter)…*

*…now that you know, Harry. Is there a chance we could be thinking the same thing?*

*Forever,*

*Hermione*

Harry wiped the tears from his eyes for what felt like the thousandth time in the course of the
last hour or more. He’d read and re-read her letter a few times, searching for telltale signs that
what he read and what he hoped he read were one and the same. “She does love me,” he said, sighing
with relief.

It was as though a light had come on in his head and he closed his eyes and let it bath him in
its warmth. “So this is what love feels like,” he said, the warming sensation filling him
completely. “I can live with this.”

Slowly, he opened his eyes and looked around at his surroundings. Loneliness didn’t seem so
lonely to him anymore, not when he knew there was someone out there who loved him…*really*
loved him. Hermione knew him like no other person ever had. She knew the many layers that made up
Harry Potter the boy…and she’d accepted them without hesitation. Her arms were open and waiting for
him, he could feel it. He closed his eyes once again and imagined himself with her. He could feel
her in his arms, the fit was perfect…he was home.

With great reluctance he opened his eyes. “Hermione, I need you. I love you.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Thousands of kilometers away, Hermione awoke with a start. “Harry,” she said, her own voice
floating to her on a whisper.

She briefly glanced at the clock, the time not registering properly in her head, then she
crawled out of bed and picked up the phone.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Harry walked from his bedroom, to the living room. He glanced at the phone and for the first
time saw the flashing red light of the answering machine indicating he had a message. “When did the
phone ring?” he wondered aloud. He walked over to it and pushed the button. The voice on the
machine said, “Friday, July 31st, 7:05pm, you have one message.”

“Har—”

“Hermione,” Harry said, recognizing her voice instantly. He looked at the clock…9:32. 5:32 in
London. “Another hour,” he sighed. His gaze drifted across the tape that Tanya had loaned him and
he scooped it up. He stepped away from the phone just as it rang.

He felt a jolt in his heart when he answered it. “Hullo?”

“Harry—”



11. Chapter 9: Beginnings
-------------------------



**Chapter 9:** **Beginnings**

“Harry, hi, it's me, Tanya.”

“Tanya?” Harry repeated, momentarily confused that it wasn't Hermione's voice on the other
end of the line as he'd expected it to be.

“Yes, Tanya, I just left you a little while ago,” she said, laughing at his confusion. “Don't
tell me you've forgotten me already.”

“Yeah,” he shook his head, “I mean no. It's just…what do you need? Why are you calling?”

“I'm sorry, it's just that I have a brother in the Army. He's stationed in Germany and
he's nine hours ahead of us. I figured Hermione must be right around there, so you probably
hadn't talked to her yet. I was just wondering how you were holding up.”

“Oh, well, I'm just waiting, watching the clock and all. I was getting ready to put in this
cassette you loaned me so I could listen to that song all the way through. I thought it might make
a good distraction.”

“Why don't you turn your radio on instead? 97.3 is playing some good music tonight. If you like
that stuff you heard earlier, you'll like what's on now.”

“Well, I kind of wanted to hear…” he held up the tape like she could see it.

“Go on, turn it on,” she said, cutting him off abruptly. “In fact, why don't you go ahead and
turn it on now?”

“Because I'm on the phone…” he said, his response a slow, drawn out question.

“Oh, well, that's okay, I'll wait.”

Something in her tone made Harry decide to not bother questioning her and he conceded. “Well, all
right,” he said, shaking his head and reluctantly agreeing. He walked over to the radio and flipped
it on, then reached for the dial and changed it to 97.3.

Harry listened for a moment, completely forgetting that Tanya was on the phone, despite the fact
he was holding it against his ear.

*…lover, you're my best friend
You're in my soul

My love for you is immeasurable
My respect for you immense
You're ageless, timeless, lace and fineness
You're beauty and elegance*

“Harry? Are you there?”

Harry jumped. “Huh?” he said, her voice taking him by surprise. “I'm sorry. I was, uh…”

“Boy, you're easily distracted tonight,” she laughed. “But I understand. I like that song,
too.”

“I never much listened to the words to songs before. Seems ever since I started this…journey,
I've been paying more attention to everything around me. Some of these songs are really
great.”

“Yeah, yeah they are,” Tanya replied distractedly. “Harry, listen to the radio, okay. I'll talk
to you later. Bye.”

“Tanya?” Harry heard the click of the phone and he pulled it away from his ear and looked at it
incredulously. “She just hung up on me.”

“…special request tonight. Tanya,” at the sound of Tanya's name Harry listened more carefully,
“called in asking if I could put a song out to her friend Harry for his special lady. Harry, if
you're listening Tanya says to tell you, `if you can't say it with words, say it with a
song'. This one goes out to you…”

*Lady, I'm your knight in shining armor and I love you.
You have made me what I am and I am yours.
My love, there's so many ways I want to say I love you.
Let me hold you in my arms forever more.
You have gone and made me such a fool,
I'm so lost in your love.
And oh, we belong together.
Won't you believe in my song?* ……………………………………………………………………………

Hermione slammed down the phone in frustration. She'd tried three times to call Harry and it
was the third time she'd gotten a busy signal. “What is he doing?” she huffed. She closed her
eyes and counted to five. “No problem. No worries,” she muttered under her breath.

*Just relax,* her inner voice chided.

*I am relaxed!* She thought back vehemently.

*Oh, yes, forgive me for forgetting that this is the way Miss Hermione Granger relaxes.*

“I…just…urgh!” she huffed. “Leave me alone. I don't want to think anymore.”

*Read his letter.*

“I've read everything,” she said hastily.

*Why are you avoiding it?*

She thought about that for a moment and whispered, “Because I'm scared.”

*Scared he'll say he loves you?*

She closed her eyes and felt the pain of the truth encircle her. “No,” she murmured softly, “scared
he won't.”

*You have to read it.*

“This is ridiculous!” she exclaimed, the words bursting forth before she could think or reason
anything out. “I'm carrying on conversations with myself. And I'm offering myself advice,”
she said incredulously. “Now how the bloody hell is that supposed to work?” She put her hands to
her head and in a coarse whisper began to admonish herself, “Hermione Jane Granger…just shut
it!”

*That'd be easier if you read the letter.*

In a huff she picked up Harry's letter then rolled onto her stomach, on top of her bed, to read
it…

*Dear Hermione,

What is there to say? Can you read my mind? You've always known my thoughts better than I have.
Please, tell me what I'm thinking…

I'm going crazy here. I don't know what to say, what to think, what to do anymore. No
matter what I do, all my waking thoughts seem to find their way back to you. I'm more lost than
I ever was before I left. I came to find myself, to make some sort of difference in my own life …
to find what I thought might have been lost nearly 17 years ago. But what I'm discovering— my
greatest discovery to date— is that there was never really anything missing* *at
all**.* *Everything* *I needed was right in front of me. Do you have any idea how
much the very idea of that scares the hell out of me?

I don't know what to do. I'm torn between jumping on the next plane and staying where I am
in the hopes of discovering something— anything really**—* *about me* *as me**,
and* *not me with or without you. There has to be a greater purpose to all of this,
doesn't there? Why else wouldn't I have seen it when I was there, in England…so much
closer? As obvious as it all seems now, how could I have missed it all this time? Why did I have to
travel several thousand kilometers away to discover…this? And what exactly* *is* *this,
anyway?

Things would've been so much easier if I'd just stayed put, wouldn't they? Would I know
what I know now? Do I really even* *know* *what I think I know now? Have I even said any
of this in a way that you can understand? Because I don't mind telling you, I'm not making
the least bit of sense to me. I know I'm not the brightest bloke around, but I never realized
until* *this very moment* *just how dim my bulb is.

How often is it that a journey of self discovery leads you straight back home? Leads you straight
back to the last person you saw before you turned your back and walked away? How ironic is that,
Hermione? How confused are you right now? How much sense am I really making?

My mum visited me today**. Well, sort of, I saw her* *in a dream. She told me that
it's possible to find both myself and love at the same time. Do you believe that could be true?
Do you believe that it's possible? I'd like to think it is, but I just don't know right
now. I have trouble believing that I can give any part of myself to someone else when I know so
little about me**…and I trust even less. My judgment has often been the catalyst for things
that never should've happened. How am I supposed to trust it now?* *
* *And w**hat is love**, anyway**? I**'m sure* *I could
find a definition for it in a dictionary**.* *But, will that really tell me what I need
to know?* *Have you r**ead any good books lately, Hermione? Anything that might clear up
some of these questions, or blow away some of these lingering doubts? I'm not sure I trust
myself enough to love someone. How do you know when you're ready to let go and just feel? How
do you allow yourself to trust what it is you think you feel? And most importantly, how am I
supposed to figure this out without you? You've always been the answer to every question. Well,
you know what I mean…you've always been able to find the answer to every question. I'm not
sure how much you can help me this* *time…**.

I'm so sorry to lay all of this on you, Hermione. I'll explain it all when I understand it
better. Someday, I promise. Just know that I am working on it.

I miss you more than you could believe…more than I think you could, even with your unlimited
knowledge, ever begin* *to* *comprehend.
* *I lo**…You are always in my thoughts.

Love,

Harry*

Hermione stared at the place where the `I lo' had been crossed through and then semi-erased and
wondered what it meant. Was it an `I love you' or merely an, `I look forward to' or some
other word nearly as meaningless as `look'? She sighed and read through the letter again.

*Sounds like love*

“Sounds like lost,” she groaned as she dropped the letter and crossed her arms to lay her head
down. She closed her eyes, wishing she had some sort of mental connection to Harry that would allow
her to communicate without the use of Muggle devices. For just a moment, she wondered if her
Patronus could go that far…and if it'd ever be able to find him in a sea of a million faces
without her there to guide it. She somehow knew that it could, but the distance was still too
great.

She thought back to Harry's words. *Miles* *mean nothing when we share the same sun,
moon, and stars.* She sighed and wiped a tear as she stared at his letter. “Miles mean
everything when you want to do more than look up at the sky,” she said softly. “Miles?” she
repeated. For the first time it struck her as odd that Harry would use the word miles as opposed to
kilometers. Then she shrugged, “Well, miles makes the distance seem shorter. 5000 miles or 8000
kilometers…” She chuckled and shook her head, amazed sometimes at the way her mind worked.

She looked up at Hedwig's empty cage. Most early mornings were this way. Hedwig would go out
hunting and just as the sun would start to rise, she'd return to her cage to rest. There were a
couple of times that Hermione had worried about her because she'd been gone for days. It was at
those times when she wondered if Hedwig was missing Harry the most. If there was one thing Hermione
understood, it was the desire to run away and grieve for the loss of Harry…she'd been longing
to do it herself nearly every day since he'd been gone. She wished Hedwig was there now,
though. She was Hermione's living, breathing proof that Harry would return one day. He promised
he'd be back for Hedwig, so every time she looked at the snowy white owl she'd feel just
the slightest relief from the pain of worry and longing that ravaged her stomach…and her heart,
daily.

She glanced through his letter one last time and her eyes were drawn to where he'd written
about his mother. Hermione closed her eyes and a vision of a beautiful woman with long red hair,
whom she'd seen in Harry's pictures, filled her mind.

“Lily…Mrs. Potter, are you there? I hope that you can hear me,” Hermione said, speaking softly to
the picture in her mind. “I just want you to know that I really do love him. I think I probably
always have. You're the only woman who's ever truly lived in his heart but I hold out hope
that there's room in there for one more. I could never to take your place as the greatest woman
in his life, truth is, I'd never want to. But I do know that I could make him happy, if only
he'd give me the chance.” Hermione opened her eyes and looked around. “I wish I knew that you
could hear me. I wish I knew that this is okay with you.”

At that moment she heard a soft screech as Hedwig flew in the bedroom window. Instead of flying to
her cage like she always did when she returned, she landed with a soft thump on the bed beside
Hermione. Hermione reached out to pet her and Hedwig nipped affectionately at her fingers. “Are you
my answer girl?” Hermione asked as she continued to stroke Hedwig's feathers. Hedwig cocked her
head, her wide eyes blinking up at Hermione and suddenly she knew that Lily had heard
everything.

She picked up the phone and dialed Harry's all-too-familiar number, yet again…
………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………
*Lady, for so many years I thought I'd never find you.
You have come into my life and made me whole.
Forever let me wake to see you each and every morning.
Let me hear you whisper softly in my ear.
In my eyes I see no one else but you.
There's no other love like our love.
And yes, oh yes, I'll always want you near me.
I've waited for you so long.
Lady, your love's the only love I need
And beside me is where I want you to be.
'Cause, my love, there's something I want you to know,
You're the love of my life, you're my lady*

“That was Kenny Rogers singing, `Lady'. We here at 97.3 wish you the very best, Harry.
I've been told your girl is miles away so my advice to you is to get her here, grab her in a
tight embrace, and never let her go. Love is rare, my friend. Good luck to you. Oh yes, and happy
birthday wishes, too. Magical things can happen when you wish on a birthday candle.”

Harry smiled at that last remark and then slumped down into the armchair. To say that he was
stunned by Tanya's gesture would be nothing short of an understatement. It amazed him that she
could be so considerate after he'd basically stood her up. He'd ruined her dinner plans and
left her alone for the evening…all for a girl he had no chance of seeing at any point in the near
future or even speaking to for at least a few more hours. He closed his eyes and silently
apologized to her. He'd promised her dinner and he intended to keep that promise, he knew it
was the very least that he could do.

He slowly opened his eyes and looked around the room. He stopped when his eyes caught sight of the
art paper he'd used to try to and draw different pictures of Hermione. He stood up and
approached them slowly. He knew now what was missing but he wondered if it was possible to create
it. He wasn't sure that sparkle was something he could ever capture and it saddened him in some
ways to know that he may not see it again until they reunited…and that was five more months away.
He went around the easel and sat down on the stool he'd been calling home for the past week. He
picked up a pencil and began to draw once more.

Harry was so focused on his drawing that the sound of the phone didn't register with him until
the third ring. He looked up curiously and then ran for it, thankfully it still sat on the table
beside the armchair. He answered it at the same time as the answering machine. “Hullo?”

He heard the beep of the machine and then the sigh of the caller on the other end. “Harry,”
Harry's heart leapt into his throat, constricting his air much the same way tears would.
*Finally, Hermione.* “Answering machine this time, uh?” her voice was low and sad and Harry
swallowed past the lump.

“No, Hermione, I'm here,” he said quickly as he ran over to stop the machine. “Hullo?”

“Harry?” she said hesitantly. “Are you there?”

Harry slumped against the wall and smiled. “I'm here,” he said on a breath as the relief washed
over him.

“Finally,” she said. “I've been trying all night.”

“I've been waiting all night.”

“But you…you weren't there and,” she sighed heavily before continuing in a much softer voice,
“and then it was busy.”

“I tried to go to dinner with Tanya, but something cut it short. I had to leave,” he paused to give
her a moment to either question his reasons for going out or to ask him what made him decide to
leave early. When she didn't speak he went on, “I had to come home. Had to be here.”

“Why? What's wrong?”

“Nothing,” he said, shaking his head. He wanted to tell her everything. He wanted her to know what
he was feeling and the realization he'd finally come to that night…but he couldn't. She
deserved more than a phone call confession. “How are you?”

“Oh.” Harry could hear the unmistakable sound of disappointment in just that one little word and he
closed his eyes, silently berating himself for being the cause of it. “Um, I'm okay, I…I
guess,” she said slowly, her words sounding broken and forced. “Happy birthday!” she added with a
note of false enthusiasm.

“Thanks. That's actually why I was out to dinner with Tanya. She insisted on taking me out for
dinner to celebrate my birthday. She told me a story while we were there, at the restaurant,” he
added, trying to change whatever subject it was they *weren't* talking about. “It reminded
me of you.”

“Tell me.” With her words Harry visualized her leaning back against the wall, making herself more
comfortable as she waited to hear his story.

“I don't remember all of the names, but there's this rock, it's shaped like a face…” he
went on to tell her about how the princess had been turned to stone and how her beloved pets still
watched over her, patiently awaiting the day she would awaken and be with them once again.

“And that reminds you of me?” Hermione asked with a soft chuckle.

“Well, yeah,” Harry said, chuckling with her. “When you think about it, you know you'd have
done the same thing, right? You'd be staring up into the sky, stubbornly trying to avoid
Seatka's eyes.”

“True,” she agreed. “But I've gotten my stubborn streak from spending so much time with you and
Ron. So, if you think about it further, that would mean you'd save my life again, wouldn't
it? By teaching me survival tactics.”

Harry laughed. “Oh no, that one I'm sure you would've learned on your own. I don't
think I've ever really taught you anything anyway, Hermione. You're more the teaching type.
You're stronger, smarter, and more patient than I've ever dreamt of being. Do you have any
idea what that makes you?”

Hermione cringed at the seriousness with which Harry was speaking. Serious conversation was not
what she needed. She was scared that she would reveal too much if they began to speak too
seriously. “That I'm a woman and women are naturally better at those things than men?” she
asked, forcing her voice to sound light and teasing. “Or, that my momma done raised me right?” she
added with a forced accent that made her laugh and cringe again.

“Joke all you want, Hermione. But the truth is…” he paused for a moment, willing himself to not
reveal too much, “it makes you a hero. You're my hero.”

“Harry, please—”

“I've never had a hero,” he said continuing as though she hadn't spoken. “There's never
been anyone in my life to look up to the way I do you. There have been people that I admire, people
I respect and care about…but no one quite like you. There'll never be another like you either,”
he finished on a whisper.

“Harry, what…I mean,” she sighed, “thank you. You have no idea how much that means to me. You know
you've always been that for me, too.”

Harry sighed and rolled his eyes. “Yeah,” he said heavily, “so I've—”

“Harry stop,” Hermione said abruptly. “This is me we're talking about. I've never cared
about the boy-who-lived. Don't you see? Because by now you should,” she added her voice strong
and clear. “It's never been about the chosen one or the boy-who-lived, it's always been
about you. Just you. Always.”

Harry closed his eyes and let her words wash over him. *“It's always been about you.*
*Just you**. A**lways.”* He didn't know what to say, he didn't know what she
wanted to hear. His heart started hammering, his stomach clenched, he opened his mouth to speak,
“Hermione, I…” and his words died away, his stomach felt as though it'd dropped down to the
floor, and silently he cursed himself for being so weak.

“Is everything all right?” she asked. Hearing his voice drop away as it did, frightened her.
“Harry? What—“

“It's fine,” he murmured. “I'm fine.”

“What have you been doing?” she asked in an attempt to find a `safe' subject to talk
about.

“Drawing, mostly,” he sort of chuckled when he remembered something Tanya had said, “Hey,
Hermione?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you know what Mad Magazine is? There's a red-headed cartoon guy on the front cover.”

“I've heard of it, but I'm not sure…” her voice trailed away and he could hear how hard she
was thinking about it by the tone she was using.

“It's all right. When Tanya was here to pick me up for dinner there was a picture that I'd
drawn of Ron. Considering my lack of artistic ability, I thought it came out pretty good.
Apparently, he looks a bit like the guy from the magazine.”

Hermione laughed. “He looks like a cartoon character?”

“Yeah,” Harry said, shrugging, “I guess so.”

“Well, he is a bit on the cartoonish side,” she said, continuing to laugh. “I suppose it may not be
too much of a stretch. I'd have to see it for myself though. Are you bringing all of that stuff
back home with you?”

*“I'd have to see it* *for myself* *though…I'd have to see it* *for
myself**…I'd have to see it…”* her words began running through his head and he
didn't realize she was still speaking and so he missed her question.
*See…eyes…Hermione…eyes…sparkle…gone….*

“Harry? Are you okay? Are you there?”

“Hermione, the sparkle is gone.”

“What?” she asked uneasily. “Harry, I don't understand. What sparkle?”

“Yours,” he said as he pushed himself away from the wall and walked to the counter to look at the
pictures she'd sent him. “Your sparkle is gone. Why?”

“Harry, you're scaring me,” she said, trying to keep her voice calm. “What's going
on?”

Harry continued to look at the pictures. “The pictures you sent me,” he said by way of
explanation.

“Mm-hmm?”

“The sparkle, in your eyes…it's gone. Hermione, what's wrong?”

“Nothing's wrong, Harry. I just, I'm lonely I guess,” she said softly. “Ron has Luna,
you're…not here. You're all I've known for seven years. Nothing's really wrong, I
just miss you.”

Harry's heart felt weighted down and he closed his eyes, holding the picture tight in his
fingers. “I miss….” He opened his eyes and looked down at her. “I have to go, Hermione. I'll
um, I'll call you soon, okay?”

“Harry, what's going on?”

Harry shook his head. He laid down the picture and picked up a card that was laying close by.
“Nothing. I have to go. I'm sorry. I'll explain soon, I promise. Just…know that I miss you,
okay?” His voice had taken on a different air as an idea began to grow in his mind.

“I miss you, too, but I'm worr—”

“No!” he practically shouted into the phone. “No worries. Don't worry. I just…I can't right
now,” he shook his head, “tell you that is. I can't. I have to go. What time is it?” he said,
looking up at the clock. “Is it too late to…” his voice trailed away.

“Harry?”

Harry jumped and looked down at the phone. He'd forgotten for a moment that he was holding it.
“Hullo?” he said into the receiver. “I need to use the phone. I have to hang up.”

“Harry!” Hermione shouted.

“Goodbye,” he said distractedly.
………………………………………………………

Hermione called his name once more. And then the line went dead with the click of Harry's
phone. She pulled her phone from her ear and stared at it incredulously. “What the bloody hell just
happened?” she wondered aloud. She immediately tried phoning him again only to reach yet another
busy signal.

She hung up the phone, determined to get through to him again...even if she had to do it when it
was 3:00 in the morning in Bandon, Oregon.

………………………………………………………………

Harry dialed the number on the card he held in his hand and reached an answering machine.
“Damnit!” he cursed in frustration. He hung up the phone, grabbed another card and dialed again,
reaching another answering machine. He listened for a moment to the message and then hung up the
phone, laughing at his stupidity. “That place is closed for the night,” he mumbled. He rummaged
through his stuff and found the number he was looking for. He dialed it and, thankfully, a sleepy
voice answered. “Hello?”

“Tanya, this is Harry, I'm sorry to call so late….”

………………………………………………………………

Hermione sat on her bed, staring at her phone and wondering what the hell had happened. She
couldn't believe that Harry would hang up on her the way he had. She looked up at Hedwig for
reassurance only to find that she had gone. She stared at the owl's empty cage curiously for a
couple of reasons. One, she hadn't seen Hedwig leave and Hermione hadn't left the room
since Hedwig had flown in. And two, she'd never known Hedwig to leave the sanctity of her cage
after the morning sunrise.

Hermione fell back against her pillows. Something wasn't right, and she was beginning to
wonder if maybe she'd misread the signs when Hedwig had appeared beside her earlier. She looked
skyward and began to cry. “Is this it, Lily? Is this the way it's going to be?” she asked
softly, her heart breaking with each word and every thought.

………………………………………………………………

Meanwhile, a man boarded a trans-Atlantic flight. He was shaking almost visibly with excitement.
His kind, sparkling eyes caused many a passerby to stop momentarily to smile at him in wonder. He
was on his way to finally complete the task he'd been given years ago. He looked up toward the
sky and smiled. *Very soon,* he said, closing his eyes and speaking quietly to the vision in
his head.

-->



12. Chapter 10: Making Amends
-----------------------------



**Making Amends**

Harry spent the next thirty minutes on the phone with Tanya spelling out everything he needed
and getting her advice on the best way to go about getting it. Even in her sleepy state, she could
hear the anxiety in his voice and she did the best she could to focus on what it was he needed.
Harry was thankful when he hung up the phone…the first part of his plan was being set into motion
and he could hardly contain his excitement at the prospect of the final outcome.

The step he took leaving England, leaving Hermione, leaving everything he'd ever known was
nothing in comparison to what it was he was doing now. This was the greatest, most life-altering
thing he'd done in his life to date and it scared him to no end…and yet it exhilarated him
beyond measure. He was ready to put it all on the line and in a very short time his fate would be
resting in the hands of the one girl who had always handled him with expert hands and an open mind.
He had to believe that now she would include loving heart. He didn't want to think about what
the consequences might be if his plan failed. He didn't want to think about anything but her
and the way it would feel to finally hold her in all the ways a man held a woman.

He tried the first number once more and reached the answering machine again. “Where are you?” he
wondered aloud. He looked at the clock for the first time since he'd spoken with Hermione and
realized it was nearing midnight. He hung up the phone and cursed the hands of time and the way
they always seemed to slow down when all a person really needed was for them to hurry up.

He picked up the phone and dialed yet another number.

“Hullo?”

“Hermione, it's me, Harry,” he said timidly.

“What is it?”

“I'm sorry. I wanted to call and tell you that I'm really sorry for hanging up on you
the way that I did. I didn't mean to, I just…”

“Harry, you said goodbye and then you hung up without even waiting for so much as a response
from me. How can you honestly tell me that you didn't mean to?”

She was hurt, Harry could hear it in every syllable of every word and as much as it pained him,
he still had to keep the truth from her. “Hermione, I'm sorry, I truly am. I can't…” he
sighed, exhaling loudly and placing his fingers to the center of his forehead, “tell you right now.
Just please—”

“Fine,” she said, cutting him off abruptly. “I don't even…” she paused to close her eyes and
collect herself. “Fine. Whatever you say, Harry.”

“Don't be that way,” he pleaded. “This isn't easy for me, Hermione. None of it is. Just
please, try to understand. I'm doing the best I can here and I'm bound to make mistakes.
Please, just give me time. I'm trying to do this right. I just…I need time.”

“And you think I don't?” she countered. “You think all of this is easy for me, Harry?
You're, I don't know…*forever**,* away from me right now. I can't look at
you, I can't see for myself that you're okay, I can't give you a hug and tell you that
everything's going to be all right, and I can't do the one thing I really want to do right
now. I can't ki…” she stopped abruptly, catching herself just in time.

“You can't what? What is it you want to do to me right now?”

Hermione closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “I can't kick your arse for leaving me
alone like this,” she said, her voice hitching as she tried in vain to fight back unwanted
tears.

Harry laughed. “Is that what you want to do? You want to kick my arse? I'll let you, you
know. The minute I see you again, you can kick my arse. Hell, you can do anything you want to me
just so long as I can hold you when you're done. You'll keep my arms safe?”

Hermione giggled through her tears. “I think I can do that.”

Harry breathed a sigh of relief. “Thanks.”

“Harry?”

“Yeah?”

“When will you tell me what you're doing? When will I know the real reason why you hung up
on me the way you did? I'm having a hard time believing that you did it at all and I'd like
to understand your reasoning.”

“Soon, I hope. I had an idea…something I had to act on as soon as I thought about it. I got a
little sidetracked and I'm sorry for that. I promise though, that the minute it all comes
together, you'll know the entire truth. In fact, I can pretty much guarantee that you'll be
the first to know.”

“You mean the second to know, right?” she asked. “Right after you?”

“Not exactly,” Harry responded evasively. “Just trust me, you'll see.”

“Okay,” she sighed. “I do hope it won't be long. Now you've got me intrigued.”

“You have no idea how much the suspense is killing me, Hermione. I hope it won't be long,
either. I'll get it together as quickly as I can.”

She contemplated his words for a moment and then looked up at Hedwig's cage curiously. “You
know, something strange happened this morning. Hedwig—”

“Is everything all right?” Harry asked anxiously before she could say another word.

“I hope so,” Hermione said slowly. “She disappeared. It was the strangest thing. She flew in my
window and instead of going to her cage like she normally does, she landed beside me on the bed. I
petted her for a few minutes and then she flew off to perch on her cage. I thought she was
sleeping, but by the time I got off the phone with you, she was gone again. Harry, I never saw her
leave the room. And she never leaves once she comes back from hunting, not until nightfall anyway.
There have even been a couple of times that she's disappeared for a few days at a time. I
don't know what's going on with her. Have you known her to do that before?”

Harry sat, looking dumbfounded and staring out into nowhere. “Not like that, no. Maybe she's
missing me, you think? You don't suppose she'd ever try to find me, do you?”

Hermione shook her head. “I don't know,” she shrugged. “But something's not right.”

Harry didn't know what to think, but he needed to find a way to ease Hermione's worries.
“I don't know what to say except to let me know when she comes back. I wouldn't worry too
much about her though. She would disappear for a few days at the Dursleys, too, when I could
finally let her out. I'm sure she'll be back."

“But that was different, Harry, she didn't have free reign there like she does here. But
it's more than that,” she stood up and walked to the cage, searching for any sign of where or
how Hedwig might've gone, “it's like she apparated without a sound. She vanished. She
just…vanished.”

“Don't worry, Hermione,” he said consolingly, “she'll be back. Really, I'm sure that
everything's fine. Could you have put your head down and missed her flying out or something?
Have you looked all around the room? Maybe she's looking for a dark place to sleep. She
might've gotten behind something. Just give it some time, she'll be all right. She'll
be back.”

“All right,” Hermione said as she continued to eye the cage. “I'll give it some time.”

“Oh, I didn't tell you earlier, I got your letter.”

Hermione's eyes popped open and she stumbled back a step. “You…you did?” she stammered, her
voice a high squeak before she attempted to clear her throat. “I mean, really? You got it? It, um,
it didn't get lost in the mail then, uh?”

Harry laughed. “Was it supposed to?”

“Er, well, you know, um, couldn't hurt, could it?”

“Well, I'm glad I got it. It's been a long time since I've read a good book.”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “It wasn't *that* long.”

“No, it was perfect. Sounds like you and I—”

“…feel about the same way,” she finished. “I got your letters too.”

“Letters?” Harry banged the back of his head against the wall. “Shite,” he muttered.

“Harry, what's wrong?”

“Nothing, it's just…they didn't get lost in the mail, uh?”

It was Hermione's turn to laugh. “Were they supposed to?” she asked, reiterating his
question.

“Well, you know, it couldn't hurt, could it?” he laughed. “You know, Hermione—”

“Harry—” she said at the same time.

“Go ahead,” Harry said as he closed his eyes and waited for whatever might come next. His fear
was that she'd tell him she finally understood her feelings, and that they weren't what
he'd hoped they would be.

“No, you go ahead. What were you going to say?” she asked softly.

Harry noted the hesitation in her voice and again, it worried him. “Hermione, what is it? You
sound…off, somehow.”

“I don't want you to be angry with me.”

“Angry…” Harry shook his head. “Why would I be angry? Now you have to tell me what's going
on.”

Hermione took a deep breath and sighed. “Well, in truth, I don't want to talk about your
letters…or mine. I think that what we have to say should be said face to face, no matter how
painful the truth might be.”

“Pain…? What are you…? What do you mean by painful?”

“Five months, right?” she said softly, avoiding his question. “That's when you'll be
home? Five more months?”

“Yeah, but Hermione that's—”

“We can wait that long, Harry,” she said cutting him off in a soft, firm voice. “I think
it's important that we wait and five more months isn't going to matter at this point.”

Harry nodded. “A lot can change in five months, Hermione. What if you…I…” he closed his eyes and
sighed, “we…”

“Harry, please,” she pleaded. “I can't do this with you. Not like this. What you have to
say, what I have to say…it doesn't matter right now. You need this time to find out who you
are…with or without me. When you know what you want you won't ever have to doubt again. And
that goes for me, too. We need to see each other. I need to look into your eyes to know the truth.
I…*we* can't do this.”

Harry sighed. “You're right.”

“What?”

“I said you're right. We can't. It's not fair to either one of us.” He shrugged his
shoulders and looked up at his art canvas. “Maybe I really don't know what it is that's
going on inside my head. But you know what?” Without waiting for a response he continued, “Every
time I try to shut my mind and release whatever it is I might have bottled up inside of me, it all
leads back to you. I put my pencil to the paper and I want to draw the sky. I start with the sun
and instead of a circle it becomes a face and before I know it, there you are. You're haunting
me, Hermione, and I don't know how to exorcise you from my every waking moment. Hell, I
don't even know if I want to,” he admitted.

“It's the distance, Harry,” she said, trying to find a way to console both of them with her
words. “I've been with you almost every single day for the past seven years. This is probably
the longest we've been apart. You just miss me, like I miss you. It'll get better.”

“Every day it gets worse. Every single day, Hermione. What if it's more than that? What if
it's more than time or distance? What if it's…”

“Stop!” she demanded, her voice coarse. “I meant it, Harry. I can't do this. Please,” she
pleaded once again. “Please don't make me do this.”

“I promise you, Hermione,” Harry said forcefully, “this will be fine. We won't talk about
it. You're right, five months isn't that long, not really.” He wondered for a brief moment
if Hermione could hear through his voice that he now wore a huge grin on his face. “I'll be
seeing you before you know it,” he said, his smile spreading wider. “Well, I hope,” he muttered as
an afterthought.

“What's that? What'd you say? You sort of faded away at the end.”

“Oh, nothing, just said that I'll be seeing you before you know it.”

Hermione breathed a sigh of relief. “Yeah, before you know it. I can't believe you won't
be here for Christmas though, or to celebrate the New Year, or my birthday for that matter.”

“Well, you never know, maybe I'll just apparate back to London for a couple of days,
surprise you or something.”

“Oh, Harry,” she sighed, “you know good and well you can't apparate this far. Besides,
they'd be able to track you if you did that. No, apparating is out. We'll just have to
celebrate it all in February when you get home.”

“Christmas in February doesn't sound right, Hermione. Tell you what, since you're saying
we can't apparate, why don't we make a video for each other. I remember my Aunt Petunia
used to videotape Dudley all the time and send copies of it to other relatives who probably
didn't give a damn about it,” he shook those thoughts from his head quickly. “Never mind that.
How about I see if I can find a camera, you see if you can find one, and then we can make videos to
send each other?”

“And maybe we can talk on the phone when we open our gifts to each other, that way we'll be
sharing the moment. Well, sort of, anyway. I think it's a great idea, Harry. We actually have a
video camera. But what about the tapes? I don't know if my tapes will play in your tape player.
How will you watch it?”

“Hermione, I'll find a way. Just make the tape sometime between now and then. In fact,
speaking of tapes and tape players, I'm putting a small parcel in the mail for you in the next
couple of days. It's an early birthday present. Do me a favor and record the moment you open
it, okay? I want to see your reaction. Don't call me before you open it or before you read the
card. Just record it so I can see it. Can you do that for me?”

Hermione furrowed her brow as she contemplated Harry's strange request. “When do you want me
to send it to you?”

“You'll know,” he said. “When you open the package, you'll know.”

“Okay,” she said, shaking her head in wonder. “I don't understand why, but if you want it
recorded, I'll have my dad do it.”

“Great,” Harry said, his smile growing wider. “Thanks. Actually, wait, you might want to, if
it's at all possible, record it on your own. You know, without your dad. You might want to be
alone when you open what I'm sending.”

“What are you sending, Harry?” Hermione asked anxiously. “You do know the suspense is killing
me, right?”

“Yeah, I know it's not easy. But honestly, Hermione, I really can't tell you right now.
There's just…there's no way. It really has to wait. I'm sorry…I really am.”

“Sorry doesn't help a whole lot, you know,” she said, forcing her voice to sound light.

“I know it doesn't, but it's all I've got right now. This isn't going to help
either, but I need to go. I have a lot to do in the morning and I want to be sure to get that
parcel sent to you. I should probably try to get some rest. I'm not sure how much this is going
to entail.”

“I should, too. I didn't sleep well at all last night. Of course, it's not like I have
anything better to do right now. Mum still won't let me go to work. It's driving me
insane.”

“Why don't you try to find a place of your own? You know, somewhere they can't watch you
so closely.”

Hermione shrugged. “I don't know. I guess it's kind of nice knowing how much they
care…how much they worry about me. Having mum here is great on days when I can't make sense of
anything. I've been away from them so much over the past seven years that giving them this time
shouldn't be too big of a deal, should it? I guess I just need to stop complaining about it,
huh?”

“Doesn't sound like complaining to me. I know you, Hermione, and I don't doubt for a
second that you're bored and restless. Have you seen Ron and Luna yet?”

“No, not yet. But I haven't really tried to contact him either. I forwarded your letter, but
I haven't heard anything back. I'm sure that whatever they're doing, they're having
a great time doing it.”

“Fun with Ron? Well, if they haven't already driven each other stir crazy then you're
probably right. They probably are having a great time. I think they work really well together.
I'm glad Ron found someone who could make him happy…”

“…and who could put up with him for more than a few minutes at a time.”

“Well,” Harry chuckled, “there was a time there when I thought *you* and Ron were going get
together. Surprised me when you seemed to just walk away from each other.”

“Please,” Hermione scoffed. “My crush on Ron was over before it began. There's no love lost
between us, that much is for certain. We'd probably be dead now if we'd tried to have any
kind of relationship outside of friendship. We would've either killed each other or driven each
other mad.”

“Well, I'm just glad it's all behind you. You and Ron were rotten for each other. There
were a few times I thought sure I'd have to curse either one or the both of you. `bout drove me
insane more times than I care to count!”

“Harry?”

“Yeah?”

“You have to go, remember?”

“I do?” Harry shook his head. “Oh, right, sleep. Well, I hope sleep anyway. I feel a bit on the
wound-up side, so we'll see. I am glad we got to talk again. Like I said, I'm really sorry
for hanging up on you the way I did.”

“It's all good, Harry,” she said softly. “I may not understand it, but it's all good.
You're forgiven.”

“That's all that matters, Hermione. Well, that and I hope you trust me enough to know what
I'm doing…even though I'm not completely sure myself.”

“Trust has never been an issue. It's never been lacking where you're concerned. I've
followed you into the fires of hell and back and I'd follow you as many times as you needed me
to. I trust you with everything I have.”

“Thanks,” he said. “I know you would, just as I'd do for you. And there's nothing I have
that I wouldn't gladly, willingly give up for, or to, you. I'll be getting in touch with
you again soon. When you get my parcel, be sure to read the letter carefully, okay? It's
important that you read everything and do…well, you'll see. I'll talk to you real soon. I
miss you.”

“I miss you too,” Hermione replied. “Very much.”

“Very much,” Harry repeated. “Goodbye.”

“See you.”

…………………………………………………………………………………………

Harry hung up the phone. “I'll be seeing you soon,” he whispered into the air. “And if I
have my way, it'll be much sooner than you think.”

He grabbed a pen and a piece of parchment then sat down to write the letter that could change
his life forever.

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13. Chapter 11: Decisions
-------------------------



**Decisions**

When Harry finished writing the letter he tapped the pen on the counter, then dropped it and
thrummed his fingers nervously. He stood up, sat back down, and then stood up again to retrieve an
envelope. After addressing it he began to pace back and forth, intermittently watching the clock,
and willing the time to go faster.

He looked up when he was sure at least an hour had gone by and then cursed, “bloody hell,” when
he saw that it had hardly been twenty minutes. He stepped outside onto the porch. It was an
amazingly clear night and for a moment he wondered if it wasn't a sign that things would be all
right. He'd been taught to look for signs and as he stepped to the edge of the porch, he
thought sure the sheer beauty of the night was one of them.

The sky was a wondrous shade of midnight blue. The stars seemed brighter than he'd ever seen
them before and they seemed to twinkle down at him just a little more merrily than they usually
did. The moon's circle, while not quite full, was reflected in its entirety. The air was still.
The night was perfect.

“The same sun, moon, and stars,” he said thoughtfully. “How many more will I be spending alone,
Hermione? How many will you? In a few short days, the choice will be yours.”

Harry felt a lurch in his stomach, a nervous anticipation that he was sure wouldn't leave
him until he knew her answer.

……………………………………………………………………………

Hermione sat on her bed quietly contemplating what Harry had said and wondering what could
possibly be in the parcel he was sending. She didn't know how long she sat there and was
surprised to hear a knock on her bedroom door. “Hermione? Are you in there?”

She shook her head and wiped her face with her hands to be sure there was no trace of tears.
“Come on in, mum,” she called when she was sure she looked as normal as possible, given the
circumstances.

“How are you?” Her mum asked gently as she slowly entered the room. “Everything all right?”

Hermione stared at her questioningly. “What are you doing home?” she asked. “I thought you'd
be at work.”

“Well, I was hoping I could take my daughter to lunch, have a nice chat, and then maybe do some
shopping,” her mum said as she eyed her amusedly and shrugged. “I figure you could use some new
clothes. I think you've been wearing some of what you have for the past few years, haven't
you?”

Hermione continued to stare at her with an odd expression on her face. “Yeah, but why?” she
asked suspiciously. “You've never seemed concerned with my clothes before.”

Her mum laughed. “Oh, Hermione, relax. I just thought it might be nice to bond with my daughter.
And who knows, maybe Harry'll come home early. Don't you want to have something nice to
wear?”

Hermione's eyes lit up and she smiled, wondering if maybe Harry was the parcel and he would
be surprising her soon. “Did you talk to him? Is he coming? Is there something you haven't told
me? Is he on his way now?” The questions burst forth and the smile fell instantly from her
mum's face.

“No, honey, I haven't talked to Harry.” She put her hand on Hermione's lowered chin and
raised her head until their eyes met. “But I have faith, sweetheart. He won't be able to stay
away for much longer,” she said, pulling Hermione into her arms. “I know in my heart he loves you
just as much as you love him.” She backed away and looked down at her. “I have faith enough for
both of us…but I truly hope you have some of your own.”

Hermione shrugged as she felt the tears welling at the corners of her eyes. “I'm trying,
mum. Really I am.”

Her mum ran her hand over Hermione's hair and smiled. “No worries, O-nee. He's a man,
sometimes they take a little while to come around. Faith is all you have to cling to, so for now,
don't let go of it.”

“I won't,” Hermione promised.

“So, what do you say?” Her mum asked as she rose up from the bed and put a hand out. “You ready
to spend an afternoon with your mum?”

Hermione smiled her first genuine smile in a good, long while as she squeezed her mum's
outstretched hand. “Just let me shower real quick and I'll be ready.”

Her mum nodded. “Take your time,” she said as she walked out of the room, closing the door
softly behind her.

Hermione flumped back down her bed and smiled. She lay back on her elbows and closed her eyes.
“What should I wear when I see Harry again?” she wondered aloud. She concentrated hard on the image
of the two of them and she began to laugh when she saw herself in the perfect little dress. She sat
up and looked around her room full of books and pictures and neutral colors. “I'll show him I
can be a girl,” she said determinedly as she stood up and strode to her dresser, pulling out
knickers and all the things she would need to get ready to spend an afternoon with her mum.

…………………………………………………………………………………

A few short hours later and the man strode purposefully from the airplane. He carried no baggage
as he walked through the doors of the airport and into the bright, clear afternoon. He looked
around at the few people milling about and then he walked casually around the corner where he found
himself alone. One final look around and a bright flash later, he was flying toward his final
destination.

…………………………………………………………………………………

The week had been a long and torturous one for Harry. He was sure that by now Hermione had
received his letter and for a moment he regretted the words he'd written. “Don't listen,
Hermione … don't listen, Hermione…” he said over and over as he thought both about what
he'd said, and what he'd written. He'd told her in their last phone conversation to do
as the letter instructed and now he was silently berating himself for it. “Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!”
he said, changing his mantra for a short stint before he once again began willing her to not
listen.

…………………………………………………………………………………

Hermione's hand shook as she held not a parcel, but a small envelope addressed to her from
Harry. The moment it had finally arrived she'd run straight to her room. She looked around and
frowned at Hedwig's still empty cage. “Where are you girl?” she asked for the umpteenth time
before she looked back down at the envelope. She looked toward the window with a melancholy stare.
“It's from Harry, girl, come back so I can share it with you.” She hadn't received many
letters from Harry, but what she did get she enjoyed sharing with the only real part of Harry she
had remaining…and Hedwig had been gone for over a week.

She shook her head to dispel the ache left by Hedwig's mysterious disappearance and, with
shaky fingers, opened Harry's envelope. Inside she found a letter and another envelope…this one
blank. On the outside of the letter she found the words, “READ FIRST” and she carefully unfolded
it.

Tears filled her eyes as she began to read…

*Dearest Hermione,*

*Of all the things I've discovered, there's only one of any importance…I can't do
this without you.* *Every day, every night, every waking moment, every sleeping moment*
*…* *are spent with thoughts of you. I'm tired of thinking about you, Hermione, I simply
cannot do it anymore.*

*There's only one way I know to free myself of these all-encompassing thoughts and
you'll find it inside the envelope.*

*Love,*

*Harry*

Hermione didn't know what she expected to find inside the other envelope but she was sure
that whatever it was would be life-altering. She took a deep breath and slowly pulled up the
envelope's flap. She gasped as she pulled its contents free. A hand flew to her mouth and she
began to cry harder. Her knees weakened and her body crumpled, forcing her to the floor. She stared
for an indeterminable amount of time before she noticed there was another note.

*I don't know what your reaction is to what you have found. Please, don't call me…just
know that I will be there when the time comes. If you walk off the plane and into my arms or if I
find myself waiting hopelessly…it will be enough for me to know where your heart lies.*

*The decision is yours, Hermione. Regardless, we will forever be a part of each other and I
will always value you and your friendship.*

*Harry*

Hermione eyes flashed back and forth from the letter to the plane ticket. “A ticket?” she said
as the shock slowly began to ebb away. “He bought me a ticket.” She continued to stare at it in
disbelief. “He really bought me a ticket. He's not coming home,” she said, her eyes filling
with tears once more. “He wants me to—”

She looked up at the door and then at the window and then at Hedwig's cage and then back at
the door. She wanted to shout, to share the news with someone, anyone…she'd never felt so alone
in her life. “What am I going to do?” she asked aloud as a band of butterflies passed through her
stomach. “Thousands of miles…*thousands*! Do I go? *Should* I go?”

Hermione sat on the floor for a long time, her mind a jumbled mess of `should I' or
`shouldn't I'. It was the biggest decision of her life and she didn't want to make it
without giving it the proper amount of consideration. If she was too rash, she may regret her
decision and that was something she wasn't sure she could live with. She knew what her heart
wanted; there was no question about it. What she didn't know was whether or not her heart and
mind were in sync…and it was her mind that had always kept her from digging her holes too deep.

She was almost nineteen and she knew that if she jumped on this chance to be with Harry,
she'd be making a lifelong commitment…to heaven or hell, she wasn't sure. Neither of them
had admitted their feelings to each other, both of them were confused and she knew they needed to
talk. The question that plagued her was whether or not they needed to talk now, or if it could wait
until Harry's journey was over. Would he regret the invitation he'd sent her when he first
saw her after all this time? Could it just be as simple as him missing her and thinking there's
more to it than there really is, only to discover the truth when they finally stood face to face?
And worst of all, would he resent her someday for not allowing him the time he needed?

“It's a plane ticket, Hermione,” she said, scolding herself for her habit of always
over-thinking things. “Your ability to make something big out of something so small is—”

*But it's not something small, is it?* Her inner voice interjected in that annoying
know-it-all way it always did when she had something important to figure out.

“Maybe not small, but how big could it be?” she muttered.

*You need to concern yourself with `will I or won't I' not `what does it all mean'
… you work out the meaning together. This is Harry—*

“…and he'll never ask me for more than I'm willing to give,” she finished with a
sigh.

Hermione stood as her thoughts began to slow down and actually register in her head. She walked
to her desk and sat down as she picked up her quill. She opened the ink well, grabbed a piece of
parchment and began to make a list.

…………………………………………………………………………………………

*Approximately o**ne week later…*

“You ready, Harry?” Jim asked, his voice soft so as not to startle Harry, whose thoughts were
obviously far away from where they were standing. Harry didn't move so Jim gently put a hand
upon his shoulder. “Harry?”

Harry barely registered the contact. “Huh? Yeah?” he said as he turned to look at Jim with wide,
round eyes.

“Are you ready? Her flight is due in, in a couple of hours.”

“I don't know,” Harry replied, shaking his head slowly from side to side. He sat down
heavily on the chair in his living room. “Should I be? How do you know if you're ready for
something like this?”

Jim smiled as he watched Harry fidget uneasily in his seat. “Come on, son,” he said gently.
“It's just the airport.”

Harry attempted a smile but the fear in his eyes was real and his smile appeared as more of a
grimace. “It's so much more than that,” he sighed as he dropped his shoulders and leaned his
head on the back of the chair. “What if she doesn't come?”

“What if she does?” Jim countered.

Harry opened his eyes and stared up at Jim as though the thought of Hermione actually stepping
off the plane hadn't yet crossed his mind. “What if she does?” Harry repeated softly to
himself. He wrung his sweaty hands together for a moment before dropping them to his thighs and
wiping them nervously on his jeans. He clapped his hands together and stood. “How long does it take
to get there?” he asked.

“Thirty to forty-five minutes, depending on traffic.”

“Traffic? There aren't a lot of people here, are there?”

“Well, not in the small world you've created for yourself here, Harry,” Jim laughed. “But
out there, there are a few more people. Granted, the area isn't large by any means, but you
have to account for accidents, construction, those types of things. So, you ready?”

“With no traffic, we'll have to sit there for an hour…at the airport, I mean,” Harry said
abruptly. “I don't know if I can do that, Jim. I'm going insane just being here. I
don't know how I'd do it there. I'll be mental by the time her plane gets in.”

“Well, if we get there early I'll take you bowling. There's a bowling alley about a mile
from the airport. Nice little place, keep your mind off things. You can get a drink in the
bar.”

Harry laughed. “I don't think bowling is gonna do it for me,” he said. “But thanks for the
thought.”

Jim pointed to the clock. “Well, we're under two hours now. You about ready?”

“Do flights come early?” Harry asked anxiously. “What about late? How often are they late?”

Jim fought hard against the strong inclination he had to laugh at Harry's attempts to avoid
the inevitable. He knew Harry was scared, but he was also quite certain that the young man had
nothing to worry about. “Most flights run between North Bend and Portland and are pretty routine.
Barring any extreme circumstances the flights in and out of North Bend are generally close to
on-time,” he replied with a tremendous amount of patience and with only the slightest trace of
impending laughter.

“Okay,” Harry said with a note of resignation. “All right. Let's go.”

Jim placed his hand on Harry's arm. “It'll be all right,” he said. “She'll be
there.”

“I wish I could be as sure,” Harry sighed. “You don't know how stubborn my Hermione can
be.”

A twinkle appeared in Jim's eyes as he turned and smiled. “Oh, I have a pretty good idea of
exactly how stubborn your Hermione can be,” he whispered softly to himself. “Come on, son,” he said
more loudly to Harry, “let's go.”

Harry nodded and expelled a deep breath. “One more minute,” he said as he raced back into his
bedroom. He stood before the mirror to check his appearance. He was wearing a newer pair of blue
jeans and a dark gray shirt…something simple that would still make him look as though he'd put
forth an effort. His hair was as unruly as it'd ever been and he futilely tried to comb it down
with his hands.

“Damn it, Potter!” he cursed at himself. “Get a grip! It's Hermione for Merlin's sake.
She's not gonna care about your clothes or your hair.” He waved his hand at the mirror and then
without another thought, word, or glance he left the room.

“Let's go,” he said to Jim as he walked to the front door. “I'll have plenty of time to
worry in the car!”

Harry held the door open and Jim preceded him out. “Oh, and Jim?” Harry said as he closed the
door behind him.

“Yeah?”

“You can go ahead and laugh now.”

Jim laughed loudly, thankfully, as he made his way down the porch and to the car…with an
anxious, yet smiling Harry following close behind.


<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

A/N: We're getting there. A couple more chapters and we'll be done. Thanks everyone.
Reviews are always most welcome! To those of you who have reviewed, I really can't thank you
enough. You keep renewing my desire to finish this story. Not much longer. I'm going to try to
step up the completion of the next two chapters.

Thank you so much to all of you who read these chapters before I post them. I love you gals…and
guy! LOL

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14. Chapter 12 - Anticipation
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**A/N: Happy Birthday, Mommy!!!!**


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**Anticipation**

The ride to the airport was uneventful, albeit long and somewhat nerve-wracking. Jim remained
quiet, giving Harry way too much time think and question whether or not Hermione would be on that
flight. It seemed like every time he closed his eyes, between the moment he mailed the letter and
the time they left for the airport that morning, he could see her making a list of all the reasons
why she should and/or shouldn't come. He could see her chewing on the end of her quill. Her
hands would be smudged with ink but the list would be perfectly neat…not a word misspelled or a
drop of ink where it didn't belong. He found himself smiling constantly at the image of her
with her head bent forward and her hand mindlessly pushing her hair back behind her ear.

Harry tried not to think of what would be on Hermione's list. He knew her so well that he
was positive anything she put on the `should not' list would be, in her mind, exceptionally
valid reasons for not getting on the plane. *I should've talked to her,* he thought for
the millionth time in the past week. *I should've made her understand that this wasn't a
rash* *decision;* *it's what I want…*

*What you need,* his inner voice interjected.

Harry felt himself nod. *She's not just what I need…she's* all *I need,* he
thought.

Harry opened his eyes and looked around. He could see the bay out of his window and up ahead was
the casino he vaguely remembered seeing on his way through town when he was heading to Bandon. He
knew they were getting close to the airport and the closer they got the more agitated Harry became.
“Jim?” he said suddenly, his voice tightly controlled.

“Yup?”

Harry could hear the amusement in Jim's voice and he glanced at him out of the corner of his
eye and frowned. “Next time,” he said as a grin slowly began to break out across his face, “remind
me to bring a pillow.”

“You ready for a nap?”

“No-o,” Harry said, shaking his head. “Just need something to scream in to,” he said as he dropped
his head back and released a groan.

“Well, it'll be over soon enough, Harry, we'll be entering North Bend in just a minute and
Hermione's flight is due in,” Jim glanced at the clock, “in just over an hour.” He turned his
head slightly to look at Harry. “You sure you don't want to stop by that bowling alley?”

“They serve firewhiskey there?”

“Firewhiskey? Is that a European thing?” Jim asked giving Harry a knowing smile. Harry's eyes
widened and he jerked his head around to look out the window. Jim chuckled softly and shook his
head. “Nope. No firewhiskey. No whiskey at all. You'd have to settle for a beer. They have some
poker machines in there, though, if you're a gambling man.”

Harry shook his head. “Nah, that's all right. I don't think anything'll help anyway,
let's just get to the airport.” He sat back for a moment, wondering if a drink might actually
calm his nerves. “Can I even drink alcohol here?” He asked as he turned to look at Jim
questioningly. “Isn't the age limit higher? I think they said something about that on the
plane.”

Jim shook his head and laughed. “21,” he said. “You're too young. Just thought I'd throw
that in there for conversational purposes. You know, get your mind off things for a minute,” he
shrugged, “figured you'd say no,” he added. “Just about five more minutes then we'll be
there.”

Harry chuckled and sat back. Silence filled the car again and the suddenness of it made the quiet
seem even louder than it'd been before. Harry began to mindlessly twiddle his thumbs as he
closed his eyes and rested his head on the back of the seat. “Why did I do it?” he said, putting
voice to his thoughts.

“You talking to me or you?” Jim asked.

“I don't know,” Harry replied, shaking his head.

“Well, why'd you do what? Send her the ticket?”

Harry raised his head and looked at Jim in alarm. “What? The ticket…? Oh no, I know why I did
that,” he said quickly as he turned to gaze unseeingly out the front window. “No, I just wonder why
I told her not to call. What the hell was I thinking?” He glanced at Jim and half-smiled. “And why
the hell did she choose *now* to start listening?”

Jim chuckled. “I don't know how to answer that, Harry. Perhaps you like the element of
surprise?”

Harry chuckled with him. “No,” he said, his voice softening as his thoughts began to drift. “I
think it's more that I want to see her face when I finally learn the greatest of lesson of my
life.”

“What lesson is that?” Jim asked, keeping his on an even keel with Harry's.

Harry looked toward Jim thoughtfully although his mind was not at all on the man beside him when he
spoke. “That I'm worth being loved by someone as smart and beautiful and amazing as she
is.”

Jim pulled into a parking space and shut off the engine before turning to look at Harry. As he
carefully studied Harry's face he could feel his heart breaking for all of the pain and
suffering the young man had been forced to endure. Despite the fact that Jim knew Hermione loved
Harry there was no way even he could ensure she would step off that plane. For now, he had no
choice but to put all of his trust in fate, and for the first time ever the thought of that scared
him. “I'm quite certain there are plenty of people who would attest to your being worthy of
love, Harry.”

Harry shook his head. “No,” he replied, his thoughts still adrift. “I don't think so. But it
doesn't matter because there's really only one…” he let those words hang for a moment
before he continued. “With anyone else it would just be words. With her,” he focused his gaze and
looked directly into Jim's eyes, “with her, there won't be a need for words. I'll know
because she got on that plane and traveled all this way…just to be with me. She wouldn't do
that otherwise.”

Jim closed his eyes briefly to silently plead with the fates. “You're a lucky man, Harry,”
he said, even as he prayed the words were true.

“I hope so,” Harry replied as he looked at the small terminal that would soon hold his fate. “I
truly hope so.”

“You'll see,” Jim said as he reached for the handle to open the door. “You ready?”

Harry shook his head. “No…” he closed his eyes and took a deep breath, when he opened them he
found Jim watching him. “Yes,” he said, nodding his head. “Yes, I'm ready, I just…” he looked
back at the airport, “I don't want to sit in there. Can't we hang out here until we see the
plane or something?”

Jim let go of the handle and rolled down his window. “Whatever you want, Harry,” he sighed as
laid his head back against the headrest. “What are you going to do out here?”

Harry looked at him for a second and then opened the car door. “Same thing I'm gonna do in
there…” he replied, waving his hand wearily toward the terminal. “Go insane.” He stepped out of the
car, closed the door, then leaned back against it and looked up into the sky…wondering if he would
soon be seeing Hermione.

Harry didn't hear Jim's door shut, nor did he notice when Jim came around to his side of
the car to settle in next to him. “Wanna talk about it?” he asked, startling Harry from his
reverie.

“Talk about what?”

“I don't know,” Jim shrugged. “Tell me what it is about her that has you going insane.”

“I don't even know, Jim. I really don't,” Harry said with a shrug. “We've been
friends for so long that I can hardly remember my life before her. She's been my voice of
reason when I'm in doubt. She's saved my life so many times that I've long since lost
count. She's just…” he paused to find the words, “she's there. She's always there. If
there's ever been one thing that I could count on in my life, it's been her.”

“And that's enough to make you insane?”

“No, it's not that,” he said, shaking his head. “What's making me insane is the
realization that I'm in love with her when I'm so damned far away. I know Hermione,
probably better than I know myself, and I can tell you that she has thought this through
thoroughly. She's dissected it and broken it down to the point where there is a solid, logical,
straightforward, no more questions yes or no answer. She's not the type to take a leap without
some idea of the ramifications. If she thinks for even a second that I might eventually resent her
for coming or if she starts to think that maybe my feelings of missing her are being mistaken for
love…” he paused and shook his head once more, “she won't come. And I don't know what
I'll do if she doesn't get off that plane.”

Jim took a deep breath and sighed. “Well, I think it's pretty simple.”

Harry looked at him curiously. “What's that mean?”

Jim looked pointedly toward the airport. “We're at an airport, Harry. You'll get on a
plane and you'll go to her.”

Harry shook his head. “It's not that simple…” he began.

Jim pushed himself up off the car. “I can tell you now, son. You won't be getting back in
this car if she doesn't step off the plane. I will escort you to England myself if I have
to.”

Harry pushed himself off the car and the two men started walking toward the airport entrance.
“You'd do it, wouldn't you?” Harry asked as he watched Jim closely.

“Hopefully I won't have to,” Jim replied. He pointed up at the sky. “The plane's coming
in…let's get in there.”

Harry's heart leapt up into his throat and he stopped walking long enough to take a deep,
calming breath. He closed his eyes and silently pleaded … *please, Hermione**,* *let me
see you step off that plane.*

Harry and Jim walked as far into the terminal as they could and a few minutes later Harry stood
in silence as he stared out the window and watched as the passengers began to descend from the
plane. There were a few people scattered about inside, and even as some passengers began to trickle
in to meet their friends and loved ones, Harry's eyes never once left the plane.

A while later, long after he'd seen the last passenger disembark, Harry saw one of the
airline employees gesture toward the plane and he watched in stunned silence as they rolled the
stairs away. He wanted to yell out that there must be another passenger on board, that they
hadn't looked well enough. He wanted to make them look again because he knew his Hermione was
there somewhere…she had to be. He staggered slightly and fast as lightning Jim's fingers
wrapped around his arm to steady him. “She didn't come,” Harry rasped around the lump in his
throat. “She wasn't…how could…she not be there?”

Harry's shoulders sagged and Jim led him to a chair and pushed him down into it. “Just sit
down for a minute, Harry,” he said softly so as not to attract attention.

Harry jumped up. “No. Let's go.”

Jim moved to stand in front of him. His normally smiling face now more serious than Harry had
ever seen it. “Mr. Potter, you *will* sit down in that chair until I return. Now sit,” he
demanded in harsh whisper.

Harry looked at him with wide eyes. He was prepared to argue until he saw the look of
determination in Jim's eyes. Resignedly he sat down. “Fine!” he muttered. “I'll sit and
I'll stay…like a good dog.”

Jim looked as though he was going to say something but instead he pointed and then walked to the
ticket counter.

“Excuse me,” he said to the woman standing behind the counter. “I need to check on a flight out
of New York, please.”

The woman took the information and confirmed Jim's suspicions. He returned to Harry with a
smile on his face. “Harry, the flight she's scheduled to be on from New York to Portland was
delayed so she would've missed the flight coming in to North Bend. She should be at the airport
in Portland now. The next flight is due to leave there at 2:30, arriving here around 3:30.” He put
his hand on Harry's arm. “Don't give up, son. She wasn't on that flight because she
couldn't be…not because she didn't want to be.”

Harry felt a great rush of relief sweep through him but he still couldn't rid himself of the
feeling of apprehension. “What time is it?” he asked, his voice still sounding hoarse.

Jim looked at his watch. “Almost 11:00, we have 4.5 hours to wait.”

Harry let the back of his head hit hard against the wall. “I can't sit here,” he said,
shaking his head. “I can't. Can you just take me back to my house and then bring me back again
later? It's too long to wait.”

Jim nodded. “If that's what you want, let's go.”

Harry put his head in his hands and took a deep breath. *Please, Hermione, talk to me. Can you
hear me? Please tell me you'll be on that flight. I don't think I can take feeling this*
*way* *again.* Slowly Harry stood, realizing that next time there wouldn't be an easy
excuse…next time she would either be there she wouldn't. He felt as though a great weight was
pressing down upon him and he moaned softly. “This is stupid,” he said as he began to walk toward
the door. “I really messed up this time, didn't I? She trusts me, she believes in me, I know
she does.” He pushed open the door as he turned to look at Jim. “I have to believe that she lo—” he
stopped talking when he noticed the smile that had begun to spread across Jim's face.

He stopped walking and then turned to follow Jim's gaze. It was as though everything around
him was moving in slow motion as his eyes widened and his head shook in disbelief. He turned around
and ran his hands across his eyes and blinked rapidly a few times. “Do you see her?” he asked Jim
before he turned back around. Without waiting for a response he took a step forward. “Are you
real?” he asked, his voice so soft that for a moment he wondered if he'd actually spoken. “Are
you really here?”

Tears were in her eyes as she smiled and nodded. “I couldn't wait any longer,” she said, her
voice as soft as his. “I had to see you.”

“But how did you…I mean—”

Jim smiled knowingly and put his hand on Harry's arm as he looked from Hermione to Harry.
“I'll just be in the car,” he said with a quick glance at Harry. “It's so wonderful to see
you here, young lady,” he said as he passed by Hermione with a smile and a wink.

She looked after him with a curious gaze before she turned her attention back to Harry. “I
apparated,” she said in response to his unfinished question. “I only needed to know where the
airport was. And I didn't really care much about consequences. I had to see you. I knew that
you'd be devastated when you didn't see me step off the plane. All it took was about a
half-second of closing my eyes for me to know how much it would hurt if I were in your shoes. So as
soon as I got off the plane I walked into a bathroom and I disapparated.”

Harry quickly closed the distance between them and scooped her up into his arms. She wrapped her
arms around his neck as she felt her feet leave the ground. “Oh, Hermione, my God,” he breathed
through his tears. “I thought you hadn't come. I thought—”

“I'm here, Harry,” she whispered against his ear. “I couldn't possibly stay away.”

Harry kissed the side of her head and slowly set her back on solid ground. “I'm so glad you
came,” he said as the last vestiges of fear dissipated and a feeling of completeness overcame
him.

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15. Chapter 13 - Three Little Words
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*Harry kissed the side of her head and slowly set her back on solid ground. “I'm so glad
you came,” he said as the last vestiges of fear dissipated and a feeling of* *completeness
overcame him.*

**Three Little Words**

“Me too,” she said as she looked up into his eyes. “I almost didn't, you know.”

Harry nodded. “Yeah, I know,” he replied on a breath. “So where's the list?”

With a sheepish grin, Hermione pulled a sheet of parchment from her pocket and handed it to him.
Harry closed his eyes for a moment and shook his head. “I knew it,” he said with a laugh. “May
I?”

Hermione nodded and Harry watched her as he carefully began to unfold the parchment. When it was
opened he looked down and found two columns, just as he'd known he would. He began to read
aloud…

Should I?

He asked and I didn't pressure him to

He already bought the ticket

Shouldn't I?

He needs time alone to sort things out

The ticket can be exchanged

Hermione put her hand over his and he stopped reading to look at her. “Harry,” she said softly,
“there's only one thing that matters.” Slowly she withdrew the paper from his hands and turned
it over. There on the back were the words he was hoping to find…

*I love him*

“Harry, I couldn't not come because of that reason right there,” she said as she pointed to
those three words. “Whether or not you break my heart, I had to take a chance.”

“I'll never break your heart, Hermione,” he promised as he folded the parchment and put it
in his pocket. “Never again.”

Hermione placed her hand against his cheek and looked into his eyes. “I know,” she whispered. “I
know you won't.”

Harry closed his eyes and let himself truly feel the touch of her hand against his cheek. He
reached up and grasped her hand with his and kissed her palm before he lowered their hands
together. He looked around for her luggage and saw only one small bag and a purse. “Is that all
you've brought?”

Hermione nodded. “I didn't know how long I'd be staying.”

“What did the ticket say?”

“Nothing,” she said, “it was one-way.”

“Oh, well, I suppose a shopping trip is in order than isn't it? I'm not leaving here
until the end of January,” he paused for a moment to caress her cheek, “and I had hoped you'd
be staying with me.”

Hermione wiped a tear from her eye and stepped forward to pull him back into a tight embrace.
“Thank you,” she whispered against his ear.

Harry shook his head. “No,” he replied as he gently held her face in his hands, “I have to thank
you. You have no idea how much it means to me that you were willing to take such a risk.” He
wrapped his arms around her neck and added, “Even if you did scare the hell out of me when you
didn't get off that plane.”

Hermione pulled out of his embrace and glared at him, her face softening when she saw the
teasing light in his eyes. “Now you know that wasn't my fault!” she said with a light smack to
his chest. “I got here as quickly as I could.”

Harry leaned forward and kissed her forehead. “I'm only teasing. I'm just glad
you're here,” he said. “Now, let's go home.” He bent down and picked up her small suitcase
while his other hand held tight to hers. “Are you ready for this?”

Hermione smiled and nodded. “I've never been more ready for anything in my life.”

Jim met them at the trunk and they put Hermione's bag into it. She stared at him curiously
and Jim smiled when he caught her eye. “No, Miss Granger,” he said knowingly. “We've not yet
met.”

He held out his hand cordially. “I'm Jim.”

Hermione took his hand and a warm familiarity filled her. “Hermione,” she said airily as she
studied him, trying to discern how it was she knew him.

Jim raised her hand and placed a chaste kiss upon it. “Very nice to meet you, Hermione,” he said
with such an infectious grin that Hermione couldn't resist smiling back.

“I swear I know you,” she said contemplatively. “Something about you is *very* familiar to
me.”

The twinkle in Jim's eyes grew brighter and he walked around to open the car door for her.
He gestured for her to enter and as she slid into the seat he said, “Perhaps it will come to you,
Miss…in due time.”

“Perhaps,” Hermione repeated.

When she was settled into the backseat Jim nodded and closed her door. Harry slid into the seat
beside her and immediately grabbed her hand. She jumped slightly when the contact brought her
sharply from her reverie. She turned to Harry and smiled. “I can't believe I'm really
seeing you,” she said softly. “That you're there…I'm here…with you beside me holding my
hand. And I can't believe that I can finally do this,” she said as she reached up and toyed
with his hair. “I've always wanted to do that.”

Harry closed his eyes and reveled in the feel of her fingers in his hair. “You have my
permission to do that any time you like,” he murmured. Slowly he opened his eyes and met Jim's
in the rearview mirror. “Looks like we're going” he turned to look at Hermione, “home.” His
heart swelled as his last word mingled with the image of Hermione at his side. *Home is*
*anywhere* *you are.* He smiled at how true those words, written a lifetime ago it
seemed, really were.

Jim turned around in his seat and smiled at the couple sitting behind him. “You two are great
together,” he stated directly. He looked up, his eyes going beyond the roof of the car and up into
the heavens. “Just like it's meant to be,” he said as though speaking to some entity that
neither Harry nor Hermione could see.

Hermione looked questioningly at Harry who shrugged. “Don't know,” he mouthed silently.

“Don't mind this old man,” Jim said with a laugh. “I wish I could tell you what exactly this
moment means. But, alas, that's a talk for another time. I do have a question for you
though.”

“What's that?”

Jim looked at Hermione, “If you're not too tired, I have a place I'd like to take you
before we go back to Bandon. I think you'll like it.”

Harry looked at Hermione and she nodded. “No, that's fine,” she said. “I don't really
want to sleep yet or anything.”

“Well all right then,” Harry said. “Let's go.”

“Very good,” Jim replied as he backed out of the parking space and took off in the direction
opposite from whence they'd come.

Harry and Hermione sat quietly in the backseat. Harry knew she was tired; it hadn't been
that long since he'd taken the same flight and he was familiar with the jet lag. He wrapped his
arm around her and when she laid her head on his shoulder he rested his head lightly against hers.
His other hand held hers tightly.

Hermione fell into a light sleep as she listened to the beat of Harry's heart. Harry sat in
silence, listening to the steady rhythm of her breathing.

Twenty minutes later Harry was looking out the window as the beach and ocean that lay beyond it,
came into view. “Hermione,” he called quietly. “Hermione, wake up. Look!”

“Hmm?” Hermione hummed. She felt the weight of Harry's arm across her shoulders and she
snuggled closer. “What is it?”

Harry pointed out his window. “Look out there,” he said. “It's the Pacific Ocean. It's
not our beach, but it's beautiful, isn't it?”

Hermione sat up and wiped the sleep from her eyes. “It is, Harry,” she exclaimed. “It's just
as you described it.” She looked up at Jim and asked, “Is this where you're taking us?”

“No, this is just the beach; I'm taking you just a little further up the road. We should be
there in less than five minutes.”

In no time, a thicket of trees blocked their view of the ocean and Harry pulled her into his
arms and against his chest. “Hermione?”

“Hmm?”

Harry closed his eyes and rubbed his cheek across the top of her head and inhaled the scent of
her hair. “There are no words.”

“I know.”

He placed his chin on the top of her head and looked out her window. “But I want so much to tell
you.”

She sat up and looked directly into his eyes. “Believe me, Harry,” she said, her voice soft, yet
strong and firm. “I know. I can see it when I look into your eyes, I can feel it in the way
you're holding me, and Harry,” she placed her hand against his cheek then continued, “I can
hear it in the beat of your heart. We don't need words. We never have.”

Harry nodded as he grabbed hold of her hand and pulled it down to rest over his heart.
“You're right,” he agreed. “We've never needed words. But I do need to tell you how much it
meant to me to see you standing in that parking lot.” He closed his eyes and released a breath. “I
thought I was gonna die, Hermione. When you didn't get off that plane, I literally thought my
life would end. In just those few minutes, I could feel my world crashing down all around me.
Thankfully Jim was of sound mind and he thought to ask about delayed flights. I just…I don't
know what I would've done if you hadn't—”

Hermione placed her finger to his lips, “that's why I had to apparate,” she stated simply.
“You told me not to call, and I…I can't even begin to tell you the number of times I picked up
the phone just to slam it back down in frustration. The past couple of weeks must have been hell on
you. Why did you ask me not to call? Why did you put yourself through that?”

Harry shrugged, “I'm not sure exactly,” he sighed. “I think I just didn't want to
influence your decision. I wanted you to decide for yourself whether or not to come. If we
would've talked on the phone…” he shrugged again, “I don't know. I just…I don't think
that seeing you would've been the same if I'd known for sure that you were coming.”

She smirked and raised an eyebrow as if to say, “oh, really?”

Harry laughed as he placed his hand against her cheek. “I'm not saying it would've been
bad,” he said in own defense. “Only, different somehow. But still…” his voice trailed away as he
started to lean toward her, slowly closing the distance between them.

Before his lips touched hers he felt the car come to a stop and he looked up just as Jim handed
an attendant money and took his entrance pass in exchange. He placed it in the window and then
drove down the long, circular parking lot until he stopped a short distance from a small building
with brilliant white columns and an open sign in the window.

“Where are we?” Harry asked as Jim was climbing out of the car.

“Shore Acres.” Jim closed his door and then moved to open Hermione's before speaking again.
“Beyond that building are some of the most beautiful gardens you'll find anywhere in these
parts. Flowers bloom here year round.” He stepped aside as Hermione climbed out, followed closely
by Harry. Jim shut the door and locked the car before leading the way toward the gift shop and the
gardens beyond. Just before they got to the garden entrance he turned to them and asked, “Are you
ready for this?”

Harry and Hermione looked at Jim with nearly identical expressions on their faces. Harry
shrugged and answered for both of them. “I suppose so,” he said with a tiny drop of
apprehension.

With a sweeping gesture Jim ushered them through the gate. Hermione took a few steps and then
stopped as she took in the sight before her. “It's beautiful,” she breathed, her voice no
louder than a whisper. She turned to find Harry staring out at the gardens with an expression she
was sure reflected her own. She reached for his hand and interlaced her fingers with his.

Harry gave her hand a squeeze and smiled down at her. “Very beautiful,” he said as he reached up
to smooth a loose strand of hair, tucking it behind her ear. “I've never seen anything more
beautiful in my life.”

Hermione felt the heat rising in her cheeks. “I'm talking about the gardens.”

Harry looked out at the gardens, then returned his gaze to her and shrugged, “oh, yeah,” he said
with a casual air, “those are nice too.”

Hermione laughed and tugged on his arm. “Come on, you,” she said as she pulled him forward,
“let's go look around.”

“Oh, Harry,” Jim called from behind them. Harry and Hermione stopped walking and turned to look
at him. “If you follow the path straight back, you'll come to a lily pond. I prefer to call it
a reflecting pool, myself, but that's neither here nor there now, is it?” He shook his head to
dispel his random thoughts before continuing, “Anyway, some people like to toss in a penny to make
a wish, others just prefer to stop and enjoy the view, and then others take a moment to pause for
quiet reflection. You should make a point to see it…it truly is a sight.”

Hermione's eyes lit up at the prospect of making a wish and she nodded, “oh, yes,” she said
excitedly, “we will definitely be going there.” She looked from Jim to Harry, “but first I'd
like to walk around and look at the flowers, if that's all right.”

Harry and Jim both nodded. “Let's go then,” Harry said as he squeezed her hand and playfully
pulled her along.

Jim stood back and watched them go. He closed his eyes and turned his face heavenward and set
his thoughts sailing. *They're beautiful, honey, just like you thought they'd be.
It's the way it was always meant to be*.

“I hope that you agree,” he whispered as his lips curved into a soft, tender smile.

As Harry and Hermione roamed the paths around the gardens, Jim made his way to the reflecting
pool. He looked down upon the water and was instantly mesmerized by the sight of the sky's own
blue reflecting off its surface. He could see the color of nearly every leaf and the mirrored
images of the cast-iron flamingoes which would forever stand as sentinels and protectors of their
domain. The vibrant shades of color in the flowers and trees were as beautiful in their reflection
as when he looked at them directly.

A reflection pool, a *true* reflection pool, will often cause a man to take a step back to
think and reflect upon the paths he'd chosen to get to where he is. No two men are affected in
the same way when they stand before a true reflecting pool. Some will take only the briefest of
moments to reflect upon life, others may take no time at all, and still others could sit for hours
doing nothing but pondering life's mysteries.

The moment Jim saw the pool he knew that he would be in the latter category of men. So many
things had gotten him to this point, and so many things were about to change…ever so slowly, he
felt his heart begin to break. In a dreamlike state, he walked the dirt path that surrounded the
pool, stopping only when he reached the opposite side where he sat upon an isolated bench. Before
he allowed his thoughts to stray he paused for a moment to close his eyes and listen to the sounds
of the great Pacific as wave after wave besieged her shores before retreating back into the haven
of the sea. He took a few deep breaths, inhaling and exhaling slowly so as to free his mind of
everyday constraints. Now was the time for reflection and the floodgates to his memories opened as
his thoughts went to his daughter, his son-in-law, his grandson, and his purpose here on earth.

*“Daddy, will you do it?” the normally fiery redhead asked* *as she paced back and
forth* *anxiously.*

*“Of course I will, sweetheart. I'd be honored. But are you sure you want…me?” he gulped
and thought momentarily of how much he sounded like a toad when his final word escaped as a
croak.*

*“There's no one better, daddy. This is a chance for you to be a part of his life**…a
real part.* *You'll be closer to him than any one. You understand how important this is,
don't you?” her brilliant emerald eyes pierced through him and her quivering voice was breaking
his heart as she pleaded with him.*

*“Yes, Lily, I understand. I just,” his voice faltered as the weight of what she'd said
finally sunk in…*there's no one better…you'll be closer to him than anyone. *He looked
at her, his own vulnerability and cursed lack of faith in himself showing clearly*
*through* *his stare. “I just…I don't know anything about magic.”*

*Lily put her hand on his arm and gave* *it* *a gentle squeeze. “We'll be here,”
she said softly. “This is your chance to fly, daddy. It's your chance to be free…” she dropped
her head, “if only for a little while.”*

*He took a deep breath and stood up tall. “Tell me what I need to do.”*

Jim smiled at the memory. “Has it really been only seven years?” he mused. “Sometimes it feels
like it's been so much longer, and now—” He paused his meandering thoughts when he heard the
familiar laughter of his grandson. *He's been through so much and yet**,* he shook
his head, *still such a capacity for love.* He brushed away a tear as he watched Hermione
close her eyes and make a wish before flipping a coin into the reflecting pool.

“What did you wish for?” Harry asked.

Hermione turned to him and smiled, “I can't tell you, or it'll never come true,” she
replied adamantly.

From where Jim sat across the pond, he could clearly see the gleam in Hermione's eyes and he
once again smiled as he silently bore witness to Harry's greatest happiness…and to new, young
love.

Hermione's eyes met Harry's as he raised his hands to cup the line of her jaw, his eyes
held hers as he slid them around to the back of her head and pulled her closer. “Was it this?” he
asked as ever-so-slowly his lips descended upon hers.

The moment his lips touched hers every question, every hesitation, every lingering doubt faded
into a chasm of nothingness. Hermione wrapped her arms around him as her pulse raced and the
butterflies in her stomach chased each other in maddeningly tight circles. In that infinitesimal
space of time, she wondered if she might float away so she held on tighter. The kiss was a sweet,
innocent, fleeting moment that would be forever burned into their hearts and minds.

When they broke apart Hermione dropped her head to his shoulder and breathed deeply as she tried
to clear her mind and regain her self-control. Nothing she could remember in life even remotely
compared to the way his lips felt against hers.

Harry's heart continued to race as he held her in his arms. He'd kissed other girls, but
none had the power over him that Hermione seemed to possess. Nothing he'd ever done before felt
as right as this one brief moment in time. He closed his eyes and the words `I love you' filled
his mind. “Hermione, I—”

Just as he began to speak Hermione straightened and put a finger to his lips. “Shh,” she
whispered. “Listen.”

Harry closed his mouth and his eyes and listened. “Sounds like the ocean,” he said after a
minute's silence. He looked down at Hermione and where his hands rested on her shoulders. Her
eyes were closed as she stepped forward to bridge the distance between them.

“It's like music,” she whispered. “We could dance to this, Harry.” Slowly she began to sway
her hips back and forth. Without realizing it, Harry followed her lead.

When conscious thought caught up with his reaction he stopped and stood frozen. It was then that
he felt Hermione's laughter as it pinged off every bone in his body. The feel of her shaking in
his arms brought a smile of contentment to his face. “I can't believe you did that,” he said
against her ear.

“I can't believe you fell for it,” she retorted with a laugh. “We could dance to this!” she
repeated mockingly. “How much cornier can you get?”

Harry's cheeks turned a rosy shade of pink as he cocked an eyebrow. “Want to play silly
games, do you?”

Hermione's eyes widened in feigned fear, the smile never leaving her face. She took a step
backward and dropped her hands from his waist. “Who's playing games?” she asked with all the
wide-eyed innocence she could muster. “Not me, I can assure you.”

“Then I guess you have nothing to worry about do you, Miss Granger?” Harry said as he took a
step toward her.

Hermione took another step back and in a flash she turned and ran the other way with Harry right
on her heels.

Jim sat on his bench listening to Harry and Hermione's playful antics. He could hear their
laughter ringing through the air and for the first time in seven years, he was at peace. He placed
his elbows on his knees and dropped his head into his hands.

*“This is your chance to fly, daddy,” Lily said excitedly. “She's been chosen.”*

*“She? What?” he asked, shaking his head in confusion. “Who's been chosen?”*

*“Harry's owl. She's been chosen. It's time for you to go. Are you ready?”*

*“I don't know much about your magic, Lily,” he said softly. “I won't pretend that
I'm not scared.”*

*Lily wrapped her arms around him and hugged him tightly. “You know enough now, daddy. You can
do this. We'll be here to guide you. You won't be alone. You'll be provided with
unlimited resources to secure your place as a Muggle should the time arise for you to take on your
true form. Everything will come to you with the ease of a man who has lived the life that you
create. You will know places without ever having been there. It shall be provided and you will be
magnificent.”*

*He nodded and kissed his daughter's cheek. When he stepped from her embrace he turned to
face James. “Jim,” he said as he looked into his son-in-law's eyes. “Someday, when the time is
right, I'll be Jim.”*

*James stepped forward and hugged his father-in-law. “Thank you,” he whispered as a single
tear slid slowly down his cheek. “We'll be here for you…always.”*

*“I know,” he said as he stepped back. He looked from Lily to James and smiled tenderly.
“Thank you for…for trusting me.”*

*“Daddy,” Lily breathed. “I not only trust you…I envy you. I wish it could be me.” She turned
around and let the tears fall from her eyes. “To be that close—”*

*He put his hand on her shoulder and squeezed it comfortingly. “I wish it could be that way,
too,” he said. “Harry needs you.”*

*“We're too close to him Lily, you know that,” James said as he pulled his wife into his
arms. “Do you really think you would be content to just sit back and watch as he struggles and
fights for his survival?”*

*Lily shook her head. “No,” she whispered hoarsely. “No, I couldn't. I'd tell him the
truth and I'd pull him into my arms and I'd tell him how sorry I am that I cursed him with
this half-life.” She looked up at James, her eyes filled with sorrow and regret. “This is my fault,
James,” she said fiercely. “Mine!”*

*“It'll be all right, Lily,” James cajoled. “This is the one thing we can do for him from
where we are. The road Harry's traveling won't be easy but dad will be there. And through
him, so will we.” He stepped out from her embrace and held her face in his hands. “In a matter of
minutes, your father's soul will transcend both time and space. He will be there in times when
Harry feels he has no one else. Every time he feels alone he will remember that he has at least one
companion, one friend who will never turn her back on him. Once your father's soul joins that
of Harry's owl, Harry will never again feel that sharp pang of loneliness he's felt*
*up* *until now. He will guide our son through all his trials and tribulations. Through him,
Harry will always have a part of you…of us, with him. And someday, when the time is right, if Harry
needs him, he will guide him toward love.”*

*Lily closed her eyes and nuzzled James' hand. “I know, honey,” she said softly. “I have
faith. I just can't help but to wish things were different.” She looked up into his eyes and
held his loving gaze. “Do you know how many times I've questioned my actions of that night? How
many times the scene has played out in my head? As much as our son is hurting, I know that if I had
it all to do over, I wouldn't change a thing.” She shrugged* *and lowered her gaze, her
fists clenching in a moment of righteous anger**, “With the exception of making Peter our
Secret Keeper, of course**!**” she* *cried**. She* *took a deep breath
and* *turned to look at her father. “Are you ready?”*

*He nodded solemnly as he took Lily's hand in his. “I can't believe I'm able to do
this,” he said incredulously. “I'm a Muggle, Lily. It all seems so surreal.”*

*“It's real, daddy,” she said as another tear fell. “And it's time.”*

*Just as he finished saying his goodbyes `Jim' felt a spiraling sensation as he descended
upon the earth and became one with Harry's owl.*

*When he reached his destination he could feel the beat of Hedwig's heart. He could see
through her eyes, he could feel Harry's gentle touch as he pet her, and he could hear the
tenderness in his voice each time he spoke. In that first instant, that first second of life, he
thought he might not make it. As he looked through Hedwig's eyes into the face of his*
*grandson he nearly betrayed those who* *had sent him**,* *just to have the chance
to hold him**…just to tell him how remarkable a child he really was.* *The chance to tell
him how his mother and father continued to look down upon* *him* *and how truly blessed
he really was…despite the many challenges he had yet to face.*

Jim heard the rustling of the leaves in the trees around him. The sounds of footsteps awakened
him from his reverie and he wiped his eyes before he looked up to find a concerned Harry staring
back at him. In that moment he wished for another year, a month, a week, a day, hour, or minute…any
amount of additional time that fate would allot him. Now that Harry had united with Hermione, his
need for a constant companion had diminished and Jim's time was rapidly nearing its end.

“Jim, are you all right?” Harry asked as he knelt down beside him.

Jim put his hand on Harry's head and slid it slowly down the side of his face until it
landed on his shoulder. “I'm good, Harry,” he said in what he hoped to be a reassuring voice.
“There's another place I'd like to show you when you're ready to leave,” he added as he
stood, with Harry rising to stand beside him.

Harry turned to look at Hermione. “Are you ready?”

“Whenever you are.”

“You're sure you're all right?” he asked Jim again.

“Fine, Harry, I'm fine. Don't worry about me,” Jim replied. “You just hold tight to that
young lady…” he looked at Hermione and smiled, “and don't ever let her go.” He patted Harry on
the shoulder. “I told you you're a lucky man, didn't I?” he said with a wink at
Hermione.

“That you did,” Harry said with a laugh. He turned to Hermione and smiled as he held out his
hand. “And yes I am.”

Jim glanced from one to the other. “All right then, if you're ready—”

When they nodded, Jim took a step to the left and led them across an old wooden bridge that
crossed the narrower end of the reflecting pool. As they stepped off the bridge he pointed to a
gate on the left. “If you want, we can go through there. There are trails there that will lead you
to the ocean. Or, we can go where I plan to take you, where the view is much more spectacular.”

“Let's go,” Harry said. “We can always come back another time to check out the gates and
secret places.”

As they walked toward the path that would take them through the middle of the gardens Hermione
stopped. “That would be a great place to get married, don't you think?” she said as she pointed
to the Pavilion on their right.

Concrete steps centered with blankets of grass led up to white columns and a large, modern roof
designed to minimize the effects of nature's harsher elements. “Yes,” Harry nodded, “it would
be a great place.”

“If you listen even for a moment, you can hear the sound of the ocean.” She looked at him, her
face no longer smiling or teasing, her eyes suddenly clouded over with emotion.

As he studied her, Harry could see the 11-year-old girl who had always hidden behind her books,
behind something solid, tangible. He felt at much as saw, her fear and apprehension as he gazed
into her eyes. He pulled her into his arms to offer reassurance and to let her know he understood.
“It sort of catches you off guard,” he said of the ocean. “You don't hear it or you tune it out
and then suddenly it surprises you and your head is filled with the sound of waves crashing into
and over each other and birds crying out. It really is musical if you take the time to listen,
isn't it?”

Hermione gazed at him for a moment before dropping her head to his shoulder. She wrapped her
arms around his waist as she moved to stand beside him. “This time alone has changed you, Harry,”
she said as they began to walk.

“In a good way, I hope.”

Hermione tightened her hold on him and rested her head in the crook of his arm. No more words
were spoken. She knew Harry would understand her meaning without having to give voice to her
thoughts.

When they reached the gift shop, Hermione stopped and let Harry go. “I'll be right back,”
she said quickly. “I just need to get something.”

The two men stood and watched her enter the shop. A few minutes later she came out with a small,
thin bag in her hand. “What'd you get?” Harry asked as they began to walk again.

Hermione's cheeks reddened as she pulled her purchase from the bag and held it out to him.
“Postcards, huh? Oh, the reflecting pool,” he said, smiling at the memory they'd created there.
He looked at her and raised an eyebrow. “Our first kiss.”

Hermione nodded and Harry went to the second postcard. “The Pavilion? Is that really where you
want to—”

Hermione shook her head. “No, Harry,” she said assuredly. “It's not where I want to get
married. But it is the first time I've ever looked at something and thought about the very real
prospect of marrying some day. I want to hold on to that memory.”

Harry nodded and looked at the other two, more generic, postcards. “One for mum and dad and one
for Ron,” she said as she watched the question of why pass through his eyes.

“Perfect,” he said as he handed them back to her. She put them into the bag and then looked
questioningly at the back of Jim's head when they passed by the car.

“Weren't you taking us somewhere else?” Hermione asked.

When Jim turned around and smiled, Harry noticed that much of the light had gone from his
normally twinkling eyes. “Are you quite sure you're all right?” he asked him again.

“I told you, Harry,” Jim replied, “there's no reason to worry about me. I am taking you
someplace else, but it's within walking distance of the gardens. In fact, it's just up
there,” he said as he gestured toward a small building up ahead.

When they reached the observatory, they walked inside. All along the inner walls were pictures
and stories depicting life in the early years of Coos Bay. There were pictures of the first houses
that were built on what was now Shore Acres. Beneath them, were the names of the families, the
prices they paid for land, and their family's commodity…most were in the lumber industry.
Hermione was fascinated by the rich history they so proudly displayed.

“Come on,” Harry said after they'd spent a few minutes inside. “Let's walk out there.”
He pointed out beyond the large bay windows to a stone wall. Together they walked out of the
building and toward the concrete barrier. A breeze had picked up and Hermione's hair flew wild
about her head and she began to laugh as she tried to hold it down. She stood before the wall and
an odd feeling of contentment filled her as she looked out upon the great expanse of the Pacific
Ocean.

Jim stood in the observatory, looking out the large windows, watching the young couple he'd
been praying would someday find love in one another. He looked back into his more recent vault of
memories and pictured clearly the day he'd asked a random stranger to take a letter from a
young girl and place it into a mail slot. Love, he told her, was on the line. The mere mention of
the word love combined with the forlorn look Hermione had borne that day was all the incentive the
woman needed to follow through on his request. And Jim had breathed a sigh of relief as he
continued to watch a dazed Hermione slowly walk away.

It hadn't been too much later that he found himself on a Trans-Atlantic flight on his way to
Bandon. By then he'd been back and forth so he was already aware of the amount of time involved
in the travel. He knew it would be his last flight, and in so many ways, it had made him feel both
anxious and elated. That flight meant that his time on earth was nearly complete and while he was
happy that Harry would find love, he was saddened by the prospect of leaving.

Below Harry and Hermione waves crashed, one after another, upon the vulnerable, powerless rocks.
The sound of laughter reached their ears and they turned together in the direction of the noise.
Across the way people were laughing and seemingly brushing away something from their skin. Hermione
continued to watch them, wondering what it was that could make them laugh so boisterously.

The sound of laughter had brought Jim from his vault of memories and he followed their gaze to
the ledge where the laughing party stood. Neither Harry nor Hermione heard Jim approach them until
he laughed. They turned around as the sound hit their ears. “If you stand on that ledge where those
people are, and the waves are strong,” Jim said with a nod in the general direction of which
they'd been staring, “the spray of the water will reach you up there when it crashes against
the rocks. Today is a good day for it.”

Just as he finished speaking a huge wave crashed against the rocks below the laughing party and
the water shot up, showering them with its spray. “Wow!” Hermione said in awe. “Imagine how
powerful those waves must be.”

Harry walked up behind Hermione and kissed the top of her head as he wrapped his arms around
her. “Are you ready to go home?” he asked softly against her ear.

A shiver ran down her spine and she nodded.

“You're ready to go?” Jim asked. Both Harry and Hermione nodded and they walked quickly back
to the car.

When they settled into the car Hermione pulled the postcards from the bag and read the
description of the pictures that was written on the back of each one. “Oh,” she gasped. She held
the postcard out to Harry as a single tear rolled down her cheek. “I hadn't connected it
before,” she said as she wiped it away.

Harry took the card from her and looked at it. Hermione's hand flew to her mouth as she
watched him. She was silent until she could see that recognition had dawned on him. “Ironic,
isn't it?” she said in a soft, muffled voice.

Harry glanced up at her and smiled. “That's one word for it,” he said.

“Our first kiss, Harry,” Hermione said in that same soft voice. “And it happened at the
*Lily* Pond. I know you believe in magic. But how much stock do you put into signs? Could this
be your mum's way of saying she's happy for us?”

“I don't question anything anymore, Hermione,” Harry replied. He placed his fingers to her
chin before splaying them on her neck, just below her ear. “You're my miracle. My angel. My
life. Of course she approves.” He pulled her close and his lips descended upon hers once more. When
they broke the kiss Harry leaned his forehead against hers. “You and Hedwig are the only two
people…well, beings, in my life that I've been able to count on regardless of the
circumstances. There's no way she could not approve.”

Hermione raised her chin and kissed him again. “Thank you,” she whispered.

Harry put his arm around her and she once again rested her head against his chest and fell into
a light sleep as he drew small, lazy circles on her arm. He closed his eyes and let the feel of her
beside him lull him into a comfortable rest of his own.

It seemed like an eternity later when Harry felt the car come to a stop and heard Jim cut the
engine. “Home, sleepyheads,” Jim said with a laugh.

Harry turned and kissed Hermione's head. “Hermione, wake up,” he said as he shook her
gently. “Hermione! Hermione, wake up. We're home.”

“Home?” she murmured sleepily.

Harry pushed her gently into a sitting position and maneuvered her head until she was looking at
him. “You're so beautiful,” he said softly.

Hermione shook her head and raised her sleepy eyes to his. “Only to you, Harry,” she replied.
“No one else has ever seen me as anything more than a know-it-all bookworm with frizzy hair and bad
teeth.”

“You got those teeth fixed,” Harry laughed. “And besides, I never thought of you as anything of
the sort. You've always been beautiful to me.”

Hermione's cheeks reddened and she dipped her head. She looked up suddenly, “Wait!” she said
excitedly. “Did you say we're home?”

Harry laughed. “Yeah, we're home. Are you ready to see the place that will be your home for
the next five months?”

Hermione's eyes lit up as she unbuckled her seat belt and craned her neck to look out the
window. Jim was standing at her door, prepared to open it the moment either of them showed signs of
being ready to exit. She reached for the handle and Jim swung open the door. Hermione quickly
climbed out and began to turn in slow circles, taking in the view around her. “It's so
beautiful,” she said as she turned to face the house.

Harry climbed out of the car and went to pay Jim for his services. “Never mind that, Harry,” Jim
said. “You keep your money this time. Doing this for you, seeing how happy you are,” he turned his
head to look at Hermione who was staring in awe at the house she'd be living in with Harry,
“how happy she is,” he added with a chuckle. “It's the most worthwhile trip I've had in
years.”

“If you're sure,” Harry said with that same note of concern he'd been using with Jim
throughout the afternoon. Jim nodded his affirmation and Harry put his money away. “I wonder,
though, if you might do me just one more favor before you go.”

“Anything, Harry. You name it.”

Harry pulled the house keys from his pocket and handed them to Jim, a sure sign that Harry held
the utmost trust in him. “I wonder if you might take Hermione's things into the house. Just
drop them in the living room, and then, if you could, unlock the back door for me and leave the
keys on the counter. You're more than welcome to stay,” he added quickly. “Just make yourself
at home if you'd like.”

Jim looked down at the keys in his hand then tossed them in the air and caught them when they
came back down. “It's time for me to go, Harry,” he said solemnly. Harry's eyes beseeched
his. “I'll take Hermione's bag into the house, unlock your door and leave your keys upon
the counter. But after that, I really must leave.”

“Why do I get the feeling I might not see you again?” Harry asked.

“In due time you will, son,” Jim said, his voice hoarse as he fought valiantly to fight back the
urge to cry. “You take care of her…and you.” He looked around the corner of the house and then
pointed. “Now go on, show your young lady your ocean. Don't concern yourself with me. Whatever
happens, I'll be all right.” He looked directly into Harry's eyes. “And from now on, so
will you.”

Before Jim's words and demeanor could fully register with Harry, Jim pulled him into a tight
embrace; the kind he'd wanted to do the first time he'd seen Harry seven short years ago.
Harry stood, his back rigid, as he tried to discern where the show of emotion had come from. A
moment later it dawned on him that this really was a goodbye and he returned the hug with equal
ferocity.

Although he had only known Jim a short time, Harry somehow felt as though he was losing more
than just a newfound friend. There was something so familiar about the man that a part of Harry
wanted to hang on tight and never let him go. With crystal clear clarity, Harry heard his
mother's voice telling him that the time had come to let go…and with great reluctance, he
listened.

There were tears in Jim's eyes as he backed away from Harry. “I'm sorry,” he said as his
eyes slowly rose to meet the young man's piercing stare. “I don't…I'm not sure what
came over me.”

“Tell me what's happening,” Harry said, his voice nervous yet demanding.

Jim shook his head. “Take your lady to the beach, Harry. The sun will be setting soon. You
don't want her to miss her first sunset, do you?” He closed the distance between himself and
Harry and placed his hand on Harry's arm. “I've asked you not to worry about me, son. Now
please, take Hermione to the beach. Sit on a rock, run in the sand, leave behind your footprints
and let the world know where your love story truly began. It will be all right, Harry. I'll not
be far.”

Harry wanted to protest, he wanted to understand…he needed to understand. This was so much more
than two new friends deciding to go their separate ways. This was something Harry felt deep within
his heart…a kinship, a relationship that bordered on love and mutual respect. He opened his mouth
to voice his objection just as Jim looked to Hermione, who had been studying him through narrowed
eyes. Harry looked from one to the other, wondering if somehow Hermione had felt that same
connection.

Hermione placed her hand on Jim's arm and looked deeply into his pale green eyes and for a
moment, Jim wondered if she might see the truth in him. “Thank you for being here…for all
you've done. I promise I'll take good care of him,” she said before she fully understood
her own words. Jim placed a hand over hers and nodded his thanks. With a shared look of
understanding she moved to stand beside Harry, and then laced her arm through his. “Come on,
Harry,” she said in a voice that brooked no argument. “Show me the beach.”

Harry cast a final glance at Jim before leading Hermione around the house and to the beach. The
moment he rounded the corner he blinked his eyes and suddenly his mind was clear and all thoughts
of Jim had vanished. He grabbed Hermione's hand and began to run toward the shoreline, laughing
in such a carefree way that Hermione had to stop running just so she could listen. Harry ran ahead
of her a ways and then turned around. The smile on his face touched her heart and for a moment she
couldn't move. “Come on,” Harry laughed. “You can't be tired yet, we're almost
there.”

Hermione nodded her head and swallowed hard to fight impending tears. Harry ran on ahead and
when she felt some semblance of normalcy return, she slipped off her shoes and dropped her coat to
run after him.

Jim stood at the corner of the house, watching them as silent tears began to fall. Harry had
survived the war, had proven victorious and now…and now, he had love. Never again would they worry
that Harry might be lonely. As Jim watched them, he knew far beyond any shadow of doubt, that Harry
and Hermione would be together forever…however long that may be.

He once again faced the heavens. “No more worries, Lily,” he whispered to his daughter. “Harry
has never been happier…and I'm coming home.”

He looked around him one final time and whispered his goodbyes. In a flash of light, a snowy
white owl appeared. Through Hedwig's eyes, Jim looked one final time at his grandson and his
soon-to-be granddaughter. His final thought before he felt his soul take flight was a message to
Harry and Hermione…*I love you**.* *B**e happy* *and take care of each other
always.* And then he was gone, leaving a small piece of himself behind in the heart of
Harry's beloved owl.

On the beach Hermione ran straight into Harry's arms and he swung her around in one sweeping
circle before lowering her to the ground. His hands moved to cup her face and he looked lovingly
into her eyes when he spoke the words she'd waited a lifetime to hear, “I love you,
Hermione.”

She smiled up at him. “That was my wish,” she happily admitted.

Harry shook his head. “But that was inevitable,” he stated without hesitation.

“I'd hoped it was,” she said as she took his hands in hers and lowered them to her hips so
she could wrap her arms around his neck. “But there was really only one way to be sure.” She rose
up on her toes and pulled him down to meet her half way. “I love you, too,” she whispered against
his lips. In that, their third kiss, all barriers shattered as each tried to impart how much they
truly loved the other.

When their kiss ended Hermione wrapped her arms around him, pulled him close, and whispered,
“Welcome home, Harry.”

**A/N:** I am marking this story complete, but I may, in fact, do an epilogue. I'm not
sure at the moment, though, I'm still in the debating stage.

Also, I want to thank all of you for reading my bit of drabble…my thanks and gratitude goes out
most especially to those who were kind enough to leave me reviews. Whether it was one chapter or
many, your words of encouragement have kept me writing.

Thanks!

Terri

[H_HrFan]

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