Sydney Love

Hi, and thanks for clicking on my story J

This is my second entry onto portkey.org, and one of my first short stories. Hopefully you will enjoy it as much as people did my last one. Please don’t criticise spelling or grammar mistakes. I know they are there, but when I proof read I don’t notice them, and my spellchecker doesn’t notice either, so unless you actually want to correct it for me, then if you could just bare it thanks.

Harry sat in his apartment in Sydney. It was a sky rise one with the large windows going from floor to ceiling. The view was unrivalled, though he never had anyone to show it to. It was a clean minimalist apartment that would generally belong to a millionaire who only uses it for a few days a year, not to a twenty two year old Harry Potter.

He occasionally saw Ron or another friend from school, but other than that he had no association with magic. It had caused him so much pain, he simply tried to forget it existed. After all it was magic that had killed his parents and magic that had kept him from having a good first ten years of his life. It was magic which had killed so many people around him, and ultimately it was magic which had ended his relationship with Hermione four years ago.

Hermione…his heart still ached when he thought of her, when he thought of what they had, and how they didn’t have it any more. He moved here, as far away as possible in the hope that the distance would lessen the pain, it hadn’t. Neither had time really, though it didn’t feel so bad anymore. This was mostly because he was used to it by now.

He worked from his apartment. He made web pages, which was easy money. He did often think of getting a more challenging job but he wanted to maintain a low profile, for there were still enemies around. He smiled to himself as he thought of a quote from a film he had seen shortly before he left.

“The greatest trick Satan ever pulled was to convince mankind that he didn’t even exist” Harry hoped that in some way he could do this.

He wasn’t hiding, but by living a low life, and never appearing in the wizarding world he could guarantee that he wouldn’t need to look over his shoulder every minute of every day. Also it meant that the ones he cared for wouldn’t be put at risk from Voldemort’s remaining followers.

He read in the prophet shortly after he moved here, that the Great Harry Potter had gone mad after defeating the dark lord, and had fled to the mountains to live in solitude. It was a load of rubbish, or at least the part about mountains was. The thing was Harry could look at himself and he could see that perhaps he hadn’t been entirely rational. He could see something for what it was, and yet his heart couldn’t.

That was the reason why he had left. He and Hermione had started going out just after they finished Hogwarts. Harry didn’t want to risk loosing touch with her after school, and so he told her how he felt. It was something he was glad he did, for on that day he learnt that she reciprocated his feelings.

They had had a wonderful relationship whilst it lasted, but then something went wrong. After they had defeated Voldemort Hermione had gone off and gotten a job at the ministry working as an Auror. This would have been okay with Harry except that it seemed to take up so much of her time. He was on a Quidditch team at the time and between their jobs they hardly ever seemed to see each other.

Not to mention the Death Eaters. He was always worrying about them, as being in a dangerous job like that she came into contact with them, and made herself a target. Whenever Harry tried to take a precaution she always treated as if he was paranoid.

Did she not care about her safety? Personally he would have been flattered to have someone who cared that much. He felt himself start to anger at the thoughts of it all. He took a few deep breaths as he got up from his chair and paced over to the window. He stared out at the river running by, and the cars driving past.

“Let it go Harry.” He said to himself as he had so many times before. “It’s in the past.”

He thought back to how it had ended, on such a bitter note. Harry had gotten back from Quidditch practice and was cooking dinner at their apartment in Hogsmeade. Hermione was due home in half an hour, and everything was going well. Then however, the phone rang. Harry put down the over glove and walked over to the phone.

“Hey hunny.” Hermione said in her sweet voice, which immediately disappointed Harry. These phone calls were so frequent these days. He barely even needed to answer.

“Hey…” Harry responded as he tried to keep his voice cheerful.

“I’m afraid I’m not going to be able to make it home on time. Something has come up and with Darren still sick off work they want me to do another night raid… You didn’t have anything special planned did you?”

“No, nothing special.” Harry responded as tears formed in the corner of his eyes. He knew Hermione wasn’t cheating on him but it still felt in his heart like she was, even if it was only with a job.

“I shouldn’t expect you back until early hours then?” He asked as he prepared for another night alone. He had practice early in the morning so he usually went to bed by about ten. “Well I might be able to get back by midnight. I won’t wake you up though because I know you need your sleep.” She said cheerfully.

“Ok…” He said as he took a deep breath. “Just promise me you will be home on time tomorrow.” He said.

“You know I can’t promise that. Things come up and its important that I’m here to do them.”

“I don’t care. Its always work with you. I’m never in your life.” He snapped at her. “Have you never considered you have duties to me?”

“I saw you just yesterday.” Hermione countered hotly.

“And work saw you today. Promise me.” He said before hanging up without as much as a goodbye.

Harry sat that night with a candle lit table in front of him for an hour in silence. He knew it was pointless really but there was always a remote possibility Hermione would get out early and he could surprise her then. “Still.” He thought to himself as the hour ticked up and the candle burned low. “If she couldn’t enjoy his meal why should he?” He picked at a few bits of it before throwing it in the bin and heading off to bed. It wasn’t even nine o clock, but he needed to sleep so he could try and forget about the feeling of rejection that was constantly being thrust upon him.

She hadn’t made it home on time that night and she hadn’t even called. He didn’t enquire for a reason. Instead he laid down his hand and walked away. If he was going to keep loosing then he wasn’t going to keep playing. He packed his bags and walked out of her life. At least now he didn’t have to worry about being disappointed.

He paced backwards and forwards for several moments contemplating what he had just found out. He tried to ignore it, tried to pretend it didn’t matter to him any more, that it wasn’t his problem. He cursed in anger as he punched the wall, leaving his knuckles grazed. It was his problem. It always was. Hermione Granger was getting married.

Harry had found out on the internet. It had been listed on the Daily Prophet website. Harry checked up on it daily, it was his way of still keeping in touch with his home world. He thought to himself about how everyone else must have known. Ron and Remus and the few others that had visited him. They must all have known about it, for the wedding was to take place in a week’s time. It they hadn’t told him then it must have been because Hermione had asked them not to. Harry considered her reasoning behind this, and he didn’t blame her.

Harry spent the rest of the day packing his bags and at five o’clock that evening he got on a plane to England. It was to far to aparate and he didn’t fancy taking a portkey, so instead he sat in the cramped cabin and waited for several long hours watching poor in flight movies and trying to sleep as overly active children made a racket around him.

He touched down in England just gone dinner time. It was cold here, which struck him as odd. Hermione must have changed. He remembered clearly how they had lay in bed one night talking about how they would one day get married. Hermione said she wanted to get married on the beach during the hot summer months with the setting sun over the water. This wasn’t like that. Everything back here in London was stone and cold, so different from the warm caring person he had loved so much.

It seemed that at some point after Harry moved out she had moved down here to London, it made commuting to work easier he supposed, but when your taking floo powder it wouldn’t make much of a difference. It was probably because her Muggle partner wasn’t allowed in Hogsmede. Harry picked up his luggage at the terminal and set out into the streets of London. It was raining lightly, though by the time he walked into a McDonalds for something to eat he was soaked through.

He hung his coat on the back of the chair leaving a pool of water forming as he ate. He considered what to do next. He hadn’t set foot inside the country in four years, and he suspected that should he go near any wizarding establishment there would be a bit of commotion before to long. Harry finished his food and made his way over to a payphone. The first one was broken so he waited a few minutes for a woman to finish with the one next to it. Once she was done Harry shoved a few twenty pence pieces and made a phone call to his best friend Ron.

The Weasley’s had a telephone installed now. Arthur originally installed it for fun, but had since discovered the practical use of long distance communication without the use of floo powder. On the third ring a woman picked up. It was a voice Harry knew very well though he hadn’t spoken to her in over a year.

“Hello, Weasley Residence.” Molly said into the receiver. Harry hesitated for a moment before asking.

“Is Ron there?” There was a brief pause on the other end of the phone as misses Weasley racked her mind.

“Is that you Harry?” She asked. “I haven’t seen you in goodness know’s how long. I don’t suppose you will be visiting us at any point will you?” She asked, unaware that he was just over an hours drive away from them.

“Maybe tomorrow.” Harry sighed as he watched the money on the phone count down. If you don’t mind I’m using a pay phone…” He said as he faded off. He head the receiver being placed down on a surface before he heard misses Weasley call loudly

“Ron! Phone for you.”

There was a fifteen second pause before the phone was picked up again.

“Hello?” He asked as he caught his breath.

“It’s Harry. Meet me at the Milton Arms in half an hour.” He said as he hung up the phone. He slumped against the wall. There was no turning back now. He had to go through with this, had to be there when Hermione got married, if only so that he could finally put his past behind him, and stop thinking of what could have been.

The Milton Arms was a small Muggle pub they used to meet at every Saturday night after they finished school. It wasn’t fantastically popular, which was nice as sometimes it was nice to be able to simply sit around and have a few drinks and hold a conversation. Harry hoped it was still open. He walked back over to his chair and grabbed his coat before pulling it on and setting off once again into the light rain outside.

As the Taxi drew up outside the old pub with the peeling paint sign Harry felt a pang of nostalgia. It was like he had walked back into his old life, one he had tried so hard to move away from. He paid the taxi driver, before heading into the pub. It was just gone eight o clock, and Ron was expected within the next five minutes. Harry didn’t fancy waiting outside so instead he walked in and sat down at a large oak table far away from the bar. This was the table they had usually got. He looked along the edge and could see where Ron had scratched his name one evening. It was strange how he remembered the small details. He wondered if He remembered Hermione as well.

“Bloody Hell it really is you.” Ron said as he slung his waterproof to one side and slid into one the chairs next to Harry. “I thought you were either winding me up or it was someone else pretending to be you…” Although Harry hadn’t been in England since he left that night four years ago, he had seen Ron just over two months ago, back in Sydney.

“Why didn’t you tell me Ron?” Harry asked as he took a sip of his drink.

“Tell you what?” Ron asked innocently.

Harry gave a sigh. He calmed his nerves once again. It didn’t matter that he wasn’t told. It wouldn’t have made a difference. He was here now anyway…

“Why didn’t you tell me Hermione was getting married?” He asked as he tried to keep his voice level. He didn’t entirely succeed. Ron didn’t respond right away, and Harry could feel the tension in the room increase. Ron knew Harry would be angry when he found out, he was just hoping that wasn’t until after the wedding.

“Does it matter?” Ron asked eventually. “You chose not to be a part of her life so why do you change your mind now?” Harry tried to contain his rage but failed.

“You’re wrong!” He yelled as he slammed his fist down on the table, causing some of his drink to splash over the edge. A few people turned round to watch them momentarily, before looking back to the football game on TV. “She chose not to be a part of my life. That’s why I left.” Harry continued through gritted teeth.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Harry asked again. “Were you afraid I would storm in and try to stop it?” Ron peered at him for a moment.

“You’re not going to?” He asked unsurely.

“No I’m not!” Harry snapped. He hated being angry. Back in Sydney he never got worked up. Everything was always calm and predictable, so much better than here.

“Then why are you here?” Ron asked as he patted his friend on the back.

“Because I promised I would be.” Harry said as he allowed a smile to play across his face.

It was a joke really, and certainly the promise was going to be kept in a different way from how it was originally meant. It was the same night that they had lay in bed and Hermione had told him about how she would like to get married on a beach.

“And we would be the only ones there, besides the vicar.” She said with a smile as she ran her hands across his chest.

“But what if I was late, what if there was traffic and I couldn’t make it?” He joked. She punched him playfully.

“If you know what’s good for you, you will be there.” She laughed. “I’ll make you promise.” She had said with a kiss.

“I promise.” He replied softly as he ran his hands over her body.

“It wasn’t Hermione's choice that you shouldn’t be invited.” Ron said, causing Harry to snap out of his reverie. “She didn’t invite you because she didn’t think you would turn up. She didn’t say she didn’t want you not to know though. I decided it was probably for the best though so we agreed not to tell you….” He continued guiltily.

Harry finished his drink and placed the empty glass back down on the table.

“Well I don’t care to go into detail about why I wasn’t invited. The fact is I’m here now and I’m attending the wedding. Do you know where Hermione is?”

ron was taken back by this question, and he hesitated for several moments before telling. Harry merely nodded after hearing this, and without speaking another word, he got up and walked out of the pub. He looked down each end of the street, the lights stretching far into the distance where everything was a rainy blur.

It was getting late, but Hermione never went to bed early. She usually liked to read in bed, even after making love, something Harry wasn’t particularly fond of. He always found himself rolling over in his sleep to find the corner of a book digging into his eye where Hermione had let it fall once she had finally succumbed to sleep.

She was at her house apparently, which Harry had never seen before. It was in outer London so once again Harry hailed down a taxi. Apparently her fiancé, whatever his name was, was out of town on a business meeting. That was probably for the best, as they generally didn’t appreciate it when ex lovers turned up on the doorstep.

As the taxi made its slow journey through late night traffic the rain abated a little and Harry found himself glancing out of windows looking at houses and wondering if Hermione was inside, and what she might be doing. What sort of life had she made for herself. Although he had loved her, and probably still did, he couldn’t help but hope her life wasn’t wonderful. If she was living in a great big mansion it would be like rubbing his face in the fact that she did fine without him.

“This is the street.” Said the taxi driver as he broke the silence off the car which was enhanced by the soft dripping of the rain upon the windows and the hum of the engine. Harry stared down the street. It was quiet upmarket, though the houses weren’t mansions. They were well kept and quiet modern. They probably cost a lot of money given there location. Probably even more than Harry’s flat.

He handed over a twenty pound note and stepped out into the rain. It was only light and so he didn’t get to wet as he began walking down the path, looking at the house numbers. Hermione lived at number seventy four, and He had just gone past twelve. He walked on for two more minutes before finally drawing up to a house with a brass seventy four on the front. It might just have been his imagination but this one seemed even smarter than the rest. It seemed like someone had practically gone out and cut the grass with scissors.

There was a white car in the drive way with mud splatters up the side. Harry walked past this and up to the front door where he hesitated. If he rung the bell there would be no turning back. For four years he had tried to forget about his old life, tried to forget about what he once had. Four long years it had been, alone. Was it really worth him ringing the bell, for what? A promise?

He pushed his thoughts aside. He didn’t get on a plane and travel to the far side of the world just to get scared and run away. He had more balls than that. He rang the bell. His heart started racing as he suddenly worried about his appearance. He felt the heat rising in his cheeks as he quickly ran his hands through his hair trying to neaten it up. He saw movement through the distorted glass pain and so he stopped fidgeting as the figure inside made there way to the door.

The door opened and Harry was greeted with a sight that briefly stunned him before causing him to laugh. Hermione had answered the door with a sandwich in her mouth, and she was wearing her wedding dress. Her fucking wedding dress! She seemed just as surprised as he did. Her facial expression was worth the travel alone. She mumbled something as she hastily chewed the sandwich in her mouth.

“Either you’re eager or I’m late.” Harry said as he raised an eyebrow with a bemused smile.

“Come out of the rain.” Hermione said to him once she had cleared her mouth. Harry took of his coat and stepped into the warmth as Hermione gathered up her dress and walked into the living room. Harry followed her expectantly. He expected a little more than that, maybe even a hug, though then again he hadn’t expected her to be wearing a wedding dress had he?

“I’m just sorting out some arrangements.” She said as Harry stepped into the living room to find a short dark hared woman with several sheets of paper laid out in front of her. Harry took a well worn seat in the corner of the room. It was a seat that they had back when they lived together and therefore Harry felt more comfortable in it.

Hermione didn’t say anything more to Harry for the next fifteen minutes, whilst she sat on the floor with her dress puffing around her, talking to the wedding planner. Finally Hermione bid the woman goodnight, and escorted her to the door. She then made her way back to the living room where she plopped down onto one of the sofas opposite Harry. She let out a sigh as her read fell back against the top of the chair so she was looking at the ceiling.

“I have had a long day.” She said exhaustedly.

“Aren’t all your days long?” He asked as he thought about when she worked as an Auror.

“Yes, but this day is longer than most.” She said as she pulled out a cushion to hug. Despite the open fireplace in the room it was still a little on the cool side. It needed stoking but unless she got changed or someone else did it there was no chance of that happening.

“It’s about to get longer you know.”

“I know, that’s why I’m getting comfortable.” Hermione said with a grin as she settled down in the chair.

“You don’t seem surprised to see me.” Harry commented a few minutes later after Hermione had made them both a cup of tea.

“Mmm well Harry just because you don’t use magic any more doesn’t mean the rest of us don’t either. Ron sent me a message telling me you were back in the country. I guessed you might stop by. Still it did still surprise me to see you there and then. I thought you might wait a few days first.”

“No time like the present is there?” He said as he stifled a yawn. “Forgive me if I seem a little slow. Jet lag and everything, I have been awake for about thirty hours now. Where’s your man then?” He continued, though he already knew the answer.

“He isn’t here at the moment.” Hermione said slightly hesitantly. “He’s on a business meeting. He’s a company director. He should be back in about four or five days though.”

The fire crackled in its grate as the wind in the chimney blew lightly on the flames. The rain pummelled rhythmically on the windows as they sat in the living room. A silence fell between them.

“Don’t worry. I’m not going to touch you.” Harry said with a small smile. He knew Hermione well enough that she would be worrying that. After all he had never been able to hide his feelings from her before, why would it be any different now. She could probably see he loved her.

“That’s good to know.” She replied as she finished her tea and put the cup down on the coffee table. She drew her legs up to her chest for warmth. Even though it wasn’t that cold in the house the dark sky outside made it feel as though it were. “We left on such odd terms Harry. One day you were there, the next you were gone…I thought you might come back, so I waited for a while in case you did. If that’s why your back now Harry I’m afraid your to late. He didn’t answer this, as his return was still something of a mystery to himself. He wasn’t going to ask her not to marry this other guy, so why was he here?

“I left because I was afraid of being hurt again. It hurt me a lot you know.”

“No it didn’t.” Hermione said softly. “The only one hurting you was yourself. I know that you left because we didn’t see each other as much as you liked, but I think that perhaps you were making a problem out of nothing. I saw you most days.” Harry didn’t respond to this. He didn’t feel he could without raising his voice to her. It was because of her he left. Always because of her.

“Well, whatever our situation had been, I never seemed to be hurting myself on my own.”

“What’s Sydney like them?” Hermione asked as she watched Harry curiously. For some reason he didn’t meet her eyes. She could only guess this was because he didn’t want her feeling sorry for him. After defeating Voldemort something in Harry changed. He always seemed so desperately alone, and she could tell when looking in his eyes. Perhaps Harry had never considered that Voldemort gave Harry a purpose. With his purpose now gone he was left to drift. Hermione had tried to be Harry’s purpose, but it seemed to have failed.

“It’s nice and peaceful.” He replied after some thinking. “How come you never came to visit?” He asked, surprising her briefly.

“Did you really want me to visit? After all Harry you were the one who left… I thought you left because you didn’t want to be with me anymore, if I had visited you surely I would be taking away what you had wanted, which was to not be with me or see me.”

“It was the opposite actually, but essentially the same. I left because I wanted to be with you, but I couldn’t, so I decided that if I left, then I could stop loving you. I left because I wanted to be with you.”

“I guess I can understand that.” Hermione said sympathetically. Harry was rather special. He needed a lot of love, probably to make up for all that he had missed out on when he was younger.

“I must admit though that even though I didn’t want you visiting, I was surprised you didn’t. But anyway that’s in the past, I try not to look at the past.” He said bitterly. The past was always Something Harry was running from. Never did he look back on the past and wish he could be living it again.

It had hurt when Hermione didn’t knock on his door. She had known where he was, and if she had really loved him, as much as he had loved her, then she would have come for him. She would have professed her love and begged him to return, so they could continue their life together. She never did this, and so Harry eventually came to the sad conclusion that she obviously didn’t love him enough. After all that was why he had left wasn’t it, because she loved her work more than him? Harry couldn’t take being second in someone’s life

“Well you already know a bit about my life I assume.” Hermione said as she held up her fingers and began to tick off points. “I’m getting married in six days.” Other than that you I transferred departments at the ministry.” This was something Harry didn’t know. “I stopped working as an Auror after one of my friends died. I now work in muggle relations. The pay isn’t as good, but then there are more important things in the world.”

“Me and Adam, that’s my fiancé, got this house about six months ago. We have been together just over a year.” Harry didn’t respond to any of this, as it wasn’t something he was happy about. He could feel the coppery taste of jealousy edging its way into his mind already.

“I hear from Ronald that you design web pages. Apparently you make a lot of money form that.” She said interestedly. Harry could see there was a pc in far corner of the living room, but the fact it’s operating system was windows 98 told Harry that she didn’t use it much.

“It pays the bills.” Harry muttered nonchalantly.

“Is there anyone special in your life?” Hermione asked, for she knew she needed to, even though she was already fairly sure of the answer.

“No, not at the moment.” He replied with a glare. Harry’s relationships had always been a rather sad matter. For the first year he had refused to go into a relationship, he didn’t want to scare off Hermione in case she might be interested in getting back together with him. After the year passed however he tried to get on with life and put his past behind him.

The relationships however didn’t last long, especially because of the nightmares. After he had left Hermione his nightmares returned, ones so vivid that they he would awake screaming in a cold sweat and not be able to sleep for the rest of the night. After living through what Harry had, nightmares were to be expected. After being left for the fifth time and having someone recommend he should see a psychologist, he decided to call it quits. For the last two years he had remained alone, on his own, and expected to forever more.

“Well that’s a shame.” Hermione said a minute later, breaking the silence that had fallen between them. Perhaps she felt it was uncomfortable. “I’m going to make another cup of tea, would you like one?” she asked as she got up from her chair.

“Please.” He said as he passed her his mug, and watched her disappear into the kitchen, her wedding dress flowing behind her.

Hermione paused in the kitchen as she waited for the kettle to come to the boil. Why had Harry turned up now? She wouldn’t ask him tonight. She could but she wouldn’t get the truth. Whatever reason he was for though, it wasn’t a good thing that he had turned up. He would no doubt disrupt her life, which had been running smoothly like sand in an hour glass. Once the tea was done she walked back into the living room, only to find Harry asleep in his chair.

“Are you awake?” She asked him, as he often liked to joke, or at least he used to. There was no response, only the slow steady breathing as he lay slumped in the chair. Hermione wondered briefly for a moment whether to wake him or not, but then she could guess well enough that he planned to stay anyway. She pondered for a moment. This was Harry, and he wasn’t about to do anything stupid. He could be trusted, and it was just for one night. She pulled out a blanket which she laid over him, before turning out the lights and heading up to bed.

Harry awoke the next morning, knowing something was wrong. The sun was playing across his eyes, which told him immediately he couldn’t possibly be in his apartment. As it didn’t have an eastern window. He clenched his eyes as he tried to recall where he was, and after a minute in which his brain finally began ticking at a normal pace he remembered the events that had transpired.

But why was he here? Shouldn’t he be in a hotel? No, he had fallen asleep. He opened his eyes and looked around him. There was a blanket on him, that must have been Hermione. She always liked to tuck him in. The fact she apparently did still made him smile. He saw that the room was empty, though down the hallway he could hear movement, so Hermione was already awake. She usually did get up early, even when neither of them had a reason to. Harry Climbed up off the chair, letting the blanket to fall on the floor.

He walked down to the kitchen, where he was met by the sight of Hermione making some breakfast. It consisted of coffee, toast, eggs, or cereal. He had been hoping to catch her in her pyjamas, to see if she still wore his old Chudley Cannons t-shirt. She had loved that, even if she didn’t like the team. He had no such luck today. She was already dressed, this time in normal clothes.

“Hey Harry.” She said as she spotted him out of the corner of her eye. She had a towel wrapped around her still wet hair. “Sleep well?”

“I didn’t sleep enough.” He said as he pulled out one of the kitchen stools and sat down. He tried to push to the back of his mind how familiar it all felt. Every morning how he would wake up and Hermione would be there, with breakfast, how every morning she would say the same things. She hadn’t changed one bit. She was still the same goddamn Hermione, which meant he would have to be that much more careful not to be the same Harry, and to have the same love.

“I’m not a morning person.” He yawned, as she placed down some toast and coffee in front of him.

“Of course you’re not.” Hermione said as she poured herself a bowl of Special K. “There is no such thing as a morning boy. Anyway what are your plans for today? I have to leave for work in about half an hour I’m afraid. Will you be alright leaving on your own? I’m afraid if the neighbours see you here on your own they might get silly ideas. Feel free to stop by later though.”

“Oh so you want more of me do you?” Harry joked as he stuck out his chest and gave her a boyish wink. She scoffed at this.

“You wish. But no seriously Harry I know there is a lot of history between us, but you and I are still friends I thought. Just because there was once some love, doesn’t mean we can’t be friends now. If Adam asks I can just say we were catching up on old times. He won’t mind, and I would certainly enjoy doing just that, as long as that is all you had in mind.” She said tensely as she caught the distant look in Harry’s eye.

“Oh yeah. I don’t want to go there again. I left for a reason, and after the wedding I will leave again. For now however I guess we can catch up. I will probably go and see the Weasley’s later. I told Molly I would probably stop by. I need to pick up some new clothes though. I didn’t really pack much when I left.”

“Mmm well Ron hasn’t got work today.” She said disapprovingly as she though of Ron’s one day a week job. His job was as a Keeper substitute. He could easily have made it onto a proper Keeper position on any other team, but he earned enough money to satisfy his life style, and it seemed he preferred the free time than the fame, though she wouldn’t have thought it at first.

“Oh well maybe he would like to come shopping with me. I should have asked him last night but I didn’t see him for long.” After he had finished eating breakfast Hermione disappeared upstairs to finish getting ready. She gave him a front door key so he could lock up after he left for the day.

“What time do you finish work?” He asked her. There was a small amount of satisfaction as Hermione had to hesitate to answer this. He would in some way be glad if she was late. It would make his last four years seem that much better.

“I will be home at about six. I’m not cooking for you so don’t get any funny ideas Harry. You’re sorting out food, since otherwise my fridge will be empty within a couple of days. “Don’t drop in before five thirty though, because I don’t want the neighbours knowing your home alone. They might think you’re my bit on the side.” She said with a laugh as she strode over to the fire place with some Floo powder. She threw it into the flames causing them to burst into life.

“You’re beautiful today Mione.” Harry said as he poured himself some more coffee. Hermione gave him a sad look, and replied.

“Don’t Harry…Please.” Before disappearing into the flames.

Sorry the wait has been so long.

Harry stayed in the house a little longer. He ran himself a nice hot bath, which was much needed. It relieved some of the tension in his muscles form a night on a couch and a long journey in economy class of a plane. Hermione bath wasn’t as big as the one back at Harry’s house but it would have to do. Half an hour later he walked out of the house, into the rising sunlight. He locked the door behind him and began heading down the street.

According to the weather forecast it was meant to be much better than yesterday, but given the time of year, he still took his jacket with him. When he was sure no one could see him he reached into his pocket and drew out his wand. It felt strange to his touch, for over the last four years he ad become un-familiarised with it. However he wasn’t sure how to ask for a taxi driver to go to “the burrow” So magic was the only choice. He didn’t fancy using the floo network, not even at the best of times.

He closed his eyes and concentrated on the transference of matter which he knew from his past life. He felt a vague tingle, as though his skin was crawling with ants, which quickly subsided. When he opened his eyes he found himself standing in front of the Burrow, looking just as tatty as ever. Harry stared up at the house, with its mishmash of extensions and its suspiciously unbalanced structure. If he ever had a house, other than in Hogwarts then this was it.

He knocked on the door, and heard the pounding of footsteps as someone ran down the rickety old stairs just inside. The door swung open to reveal a short red hair girl that Harry recognised immediately. Ginny hadn’t changed one bit. She looked at him, taken back for a moment before a look of delight spread over her features. She leapt towards him and threw her arms around his neck, cutting off his hair.

“Harry, I haven’t seen you in forever.” She said as she inhaled the smell of his hair.

“Come on Ginny. No sex on the doorstep.” Ron said with a laugh as he emerged from the living room. Ginny quickly let go of Harry and readjusted her clothes. Although they had never loved each other, they did both have a sort of casual relationship for a few months during the begging of the seventh year. Something Ron had been very disapproving of at first.

“You pig.” Ginny spat at her brother as he pushed her back inside the house, and tried to shoo her upstairs.

“Harry didn’t come all the way here to see you. Go play Barbie or something.” Ron huffed at her as he invited Harry in. Ginny gave up on talking to Harry for now, but she didn’t go back upstairs.

“Harry can play doctors and nurses with me if he wants.” She said, to annoy her brother.

“So Harry what you fancy doing today?” Ron asked as he had years ago. “There is a new place that opened up that sells good food. We could have lunch there. It’s none of that fancy stuff either. I’m talking proper big food.” He said as he started salivating.

“Yeah well I need to go out shopping. I didn’t bring many clothes with me, and if I’m going to this wedding I’m going to need a suit as well aren’t I.”

“So you’re still planning on going then?” he asked in surprise, as though he expected Harry to have seen the light.

“Of course I am.” He said with a smile. The burrow was always a place of laughter, even now that Half the Weasley children had moved out.

“What’s all the commotion.” Miss Weasley asked as she walked into the room. “If You’ve gone and broken another…” She said before falling quiet. She had spotted Harry sitting on the chair.

“Hello Molly.” He said as he stood up. He held out his hand to shake, instead she pulled him into a hug which made Ginny jealous.

“You boys, trying to act all grown up all the time. I’m so glad to see you back. Will you be staying long?”

“I will be in England until after the wedding I expect. However I won’t be staying here, at least not tonight.” He explained.

“Well whenever you do want to stay round there is a bedroom for you here.” Molly said with tears in her eyes.

“It’s mine.” Ginny whispered so her mother couldn’t hear her.

They spent the next half hour sitting round catching up on things. Molly bored Harry with details about an art course that she had been taking during her spare time, whilst Ron told stories about funny things that had happened at his Quidditch practice. Molly made them up some hot chocolate and bought in some fruit cake, which was as good as ever, but tasted better than anything Harry had tasted in years.

“We will drop back in the afternoon.” Harry assured Molly and Ginny as they bid them good by. It was about nine o clock, and they expected to be shopping for a few hours followed by a large lunch.

“Arthur will be home from work at about dinner time if you’re still here then.” She told them.

“I probably won’t be but I will make sure to catch up with him at some point.”

Mr Weasley would probably want top hear all about the intern-at.

They walked out of the front door into the street.

“Where were you thinking of shopping Harry, Diagon alley?” Ron asked as they walked over to his car. Although Ron had nothing against magic he did rather enjoy driving his black convertible car. He realised that there was a correlation between the number of miles he drove in the car, and the number of girlfriends he had. He made sure to drive plenty.

“Well no I want Muggle clothes. I was thinking of going to that shopping complex in London, you know the one near the river.”

“Well that sounds good. We can drop into Diagon Alley afterwards for lunch, since that is where the food is… Plus mum wants me to buy some more floo powder.”

“Ok that sounds like a plan.” Harry said as he climbed into the passenger seat and did up his seat belt.

“Where would you like to go?” Ron asked pretending to be a taxi driver.

“To the stars!” Harry replied, causing them both to burst out laughing.

The morning was enjoyable in many ways. The shopping had gone quiet well, and Harry now had several items of clothes to wear for his short stay in England. However lunch had gone a bit differently. As Harry had stepped into Diagon alley, they had sat down, but not shortly after finishing their garlic bread a bit of a crowd started to form. Harry guessed someone must have tipped off the prophet, because within the few minutes that followed several reporters apparated to the scene to take pictures and shout questions at Harry.

“Oh sod this, let’s leave.” Harry had said as he had thrown some money down on the table, before making a hasty dash back into Muggle London. They ended up eating at one of those awful fast food restaurants, but since Hermione wasn’t with them it meant they could eat without being badgered about human rights and food safety standards.

“I bet I know what’s going to be in the paper tomorrow. Harry said as he leant against the side of Ron’s car, a slice of Pizza in his hand. They had parked the car at the side of a public green, and were now watching some senior citizens playing golf. It wasn’t itself a fun sport to watch, but once you started to place bets on how many times they would miss the golf ball and whack up a clump of earth, it became more exciting.

“Well I don’t see the harm in people knowing you are back.” Ron said offhandedly. “Just last year the yeti came back to England and hardly anyone went looking for that.

“Yeah but still it is kind of annoying, I don’t like attention.” He mumbled as he took a bite of his pizza, causing molten hot tomato sauce covered cheese to slap down and burn his chin.

“What do you want to do now?” Ron asked. “Normally I just slob around on Tuesday mornings, but if you like I’m sure we can find something more exciting, a strip bar perhaps?”

“No that’s all right.” Harry said as he looked across the grass at a pensioner who had let the club fly out of his hand, and was now helping carry an unconscious woman into the club house.

“Are you sure, I have been waiting for an excuse…” Ron began before he was cut off.

“No it’s all right. Today has been more than enough excitement for one day thanks. If you don’t mind I think slobbing round would suit me fine. Besides I’m sure your mother and Ginny would like to catch up with me.”

“Yeah, I was meant to be repairing the garden wall while we are it. Come on then, let’s head back.” It was just gone half past one when they pulled into the drive way of the Burrow.

Molly and Ginny had just finished their lunch of home made tomato soup and bread when Harry and Ron walked in and flopped down on the chairs.

“Had a good morning dear?” She asked Harry, rather than her own son.

“I got what I needed. How was your day?”

They made small talk for the next half an hour as they cleaned up the pots and pans, and then sat around having a drink of hot chocolate in the afternoon sun. The Weasley house now had a conservatory, as well as a small swimming pool. Apparently Ron had built then during his free time.

“What? Do I have to, it’s just I’m entertaining a guest.” Ron said to the head in the fireplace as everyone listened from the other room. “No not like that you sicko! Well can’t he play with a broken leg, he isn’t going to be running on it or anything…Fine.” Ron said with a sigh, before reappearing a moment later.

“Looks like Gellis that idiot has had his leg broken in practice so they want me to come in for the match this afternoon.” He explained to his family. “I’m afraid that means I won’t be able to hang out with you today Harry, I can give you a lift home if you would like before I head over to the stadium.”

“Harry can stay here. I’m a friend to.” Ginny piped up, causing Ron to raise an eyebrow.

“Yeah I guess you could, would you be ok with that Harry?” Ron asked, before receiving a nod. “Well in that case I guess I will see you around Harry, tomorrow maybe, I dunno, I will pop round anyway to see how things are. Hermione is difficult to live with I expect.” Harry ignored this last comment and merely waved his friend goodbye. He wasn’t to upset about having Ron leave early, after all it meant he could spend the remaining few hours before heading back home with Ginny, who if not a great listener was nothing else.

“Hey Harry, would you like to go for a walk?” Ginny asked.

“Yeah sure I can do unless Molly has something for me to do.” He replied as he turned to misses Weasley.

“Don’t be silly Harry, you’re a guest and I can’t give a guest work to do, besides Ron gets it all done, which isn’t surprising considering the amount of time he spends here. You would think he would want to get a life of his own…” She began o say before being cut off.

“Mum you’re waffling on again.” Ginny hissed in embarrassment.

“Sorry dear.” Molly said as she excused herself.

“If you just wait a minute Harry I need to get changed into something more suitable.” He wondered what was unsuitable about what she was wearing, shorts and a t-shirt. He knew however that when a girl said she is going to get into something more suitable it is best leave her alone (often it leads to sex afterwards!)

She came down the stairs some five minutes later, wearing a short lemon coloured dress which frilled out at the bottom. It was quiet flattering on her figure.

“I was figuring we could go down along the footpath, through the woods, and back along the field.” She told him. He nodded and they set off, into the warm afternoon sunshine.

They walked in silence for a few minutes, as they made their way down the street, past the few other houses, up to the rickety old sign that said “public footpath.” As they passed this, onto the mud trodden path they began talking.

“Why did you come back Harry?” She asked, walking ahead of him so he couldn’t see her face. “I mean, it’s been four years. If you could stay gone for four years then you can stay gone forever. Why did you come back now?”

“Well I came back for Hermione’s wedding. I promised along time ago that I would be there, and I intend to keep that promise.” He said. He liked the way Ginny and him could always have very open conversations. It was something about her attitude that made him feel he could tell her whatever he wanted, without being judged for it.

“But why do you want to be here for the wedding Harry. I spoke to Hermione and I don’t think she was expecting you back. She wouldn’t have minded. What do you hope to gain from being back here?”

“I don’t hope to gain anything.” He hesitated. “As I said I came back for the promise I made, and because she is a friend and I wanted to see it through.”

“I think that’s rubbish.” Ginny said absently as she continued walking. The trees grew denser here, and where the sun shone through the braches there were patches of shade. She was trying to only walk on the shaded patches, but since the braches swayed in the wind, this wasn’t easy.

Harry grew slightly angry at this comment, but he suppressed it. He was good at pushing his emotions aside.

“What do you think then?” He asked curiously.

“Well I think you came back to try and stop the wedding from taking place. I think that for some reason you feel as if you’re only now loosing her. You’re wrong Harry, you lost her a long time ago. You lost her the day you walked out of her life. You lost her and it is your fault.

“I think you’re wrong.” He replied curtly.

“And I think you don’t even know why you came back I think you don’t know what you think, and I think you don’t even know what you feel, if you do still feel that is.” She said angrily.

She then turned round with a smile though, which surprised Harry.

“But that’s ok.” She said sweetly. “I’m going to help you find out.” He paused for a minute as they walked on. Ginny knew him better than he knew himself, which was scary. Especially since it had been so long. He thought he had changed. Become a new person, but if she could read him so easily, maybe he wasn’t as different as he had once hoped, maybe his mask wasn’t that original.

“Thankyou.” He said quietly.

“Ok then Harry tell me about your life. What is so great about it? What do you do everyday in your life that makes you glad you wake up?”

“I enjoy my job.” He said after a moments thought.

“You might enjoy it but you don’t love your job. No body loves a job.”

“Hermione does.” Harry countered. Ginny shook her head.

“We haven’t got round to her yet. We are focusing on you. So come on then. I can only go on what my brother tells me from the few times he has visited you. Do you have friends there?”

“Define friends.” He said. He knew people in Sydney, and a few people knew him. However “friends” was always a rather vague word. There were those you would have a conversation with at the bus stop, for it was better than sitting in silence, and then there were those you would go to the bus stop to talk to.

“Friends are people that you can go to when you need help, people that you can be honest with.” Harry considered this for a moment; He had no friends, except perhaps Ron. Friends were a luxury he couldn’t afford. Plus they had a bad habit of dying on him.

“One doesn’t need friends to love life.”

“True.” Ginny said as they walked further along the footpath, there was a turning which headed off going towards a nearby village. They didn’t go this way. Instead they walked along the more overgrown way which would lead into what they defined as the woods. “You don’t need friends, but you do need love. A love of some sort. Some people love friends others love their family. Some people even love their pets, or themselves.”

“Is a love of life not enough then?” Harry asked her in a bemused tone. She always seemed so wise, and yet he suspected she was making it up as he went along.

“No, no one has a love of life unless they love something in it. Do you love Hermione?” This question caused him to gasp inwardly. How dare she ask such a thing.

“Don’t be ridiculous.” He said. “I harbour no such feelings.” However his answer seemed to satisfy Ginny.

“So you have no friends you love, and no love in your life. How do you manage Harry? How do you drag yourself out of bed every morning?” She said in a pitying tone, which aggravated him.

“What is this obsession with love, why do you need to love somebody? I love nobody and I am fine. I live the perfect life.” He said coldly.

This conversation was not going where he had wanted it to go. He had expected it to be simpler, and he hadn’t expected it to be so personal. He had thrown away his old life and taken a new one. Ginny however was trying to say what, that he didn’t have one?

“Harry do you remember what you said to me when you left. After three months when I realised you weren’t coming back, I wrote you a letter. I asked you how you could manage without love, and your reply was this.” She said as she drew out a well worn piece of paper.

“I can live my life without Hermione, without my friends and without you. I can live my life without love.”

I kept that, because is seemed so different from the Harry I once loved. As the years went on I thought, maybe Harry has found someone he loves after all, though Ronald said otherwise. Then I thought finally that you must be right after all, because you seem to manage. Today however I see differently. I see the truth. When you looked into my eyes this morning, as the broken shell of a person you once were, I know I was right all along.”

Harry had no response to this comment. He didn’t care to try and argue it. Ginny was stubborn in her beliefs, and despite the fact he himself didn’t agree, he wasn’t going to have an argument about it. They walked further. By this point along the trail the trees had reached there largest size. They were walking among enormous trees hundreds of years old, the path covered with roots as thick as his arm.

“It’s my life…” Harry finally said as he tried to reason things.

“It doesn’t have to be… You could come back…” She said softly before Harry shook his head.

“There is nothing more for me here than there is for me there. I have no reason to stay.”

“You have no reason to go either. Won’t you stop feeling sorry for yourself and be happy again? You could have had a life for the last four years, you could still have one, and yet you choose to stay so far away that you can’t be touched by anyone. You are cheating yourself Harry, it doesn’t need to be that way.”

Harry walked on, watching as Ginny hopped over the roots of the trees. More than once he had stumbled as he didn’t pay enough attention to where he was going. Ginny’s dress swayed in the wind which flowed through the trees like a river along a stream.

“I’m afraid that’s a possibility I can’t accept.” He responded. For sanities sake he dared not consider it.

“Ok Harry, you don’t have to.” Ginny said sympathetically. It was sad to see Harry like this, refusing to let anyone understand him. If perhaps she could make him understand himself he would realise that he had been a bit of an idiot. “You still haven’t told me why you came back, but I guess you don’t know. If you don’t mind me saying I think it’s because you still have feeling for Hermione.”

“I thought I already answered that.” Harry asked, though not in an angry manner, but in one that sounded more of resignation.

“Well yes but I don’t think no is the answer. I think you do still love her, and the fact you can’t have her is why you’re so confused.”

“…” Said Harry as he pondered for a moment. “I don’t know what to think anymore. It was nice of you to try and help me understand things Ginny, but I just feel more confused than ever before. You are causing me to look at things that I would normally suppress…I didn’t love Hermione when I was in Sydney, or at least if I did, I was in control of it… But seeing her again, god, I don’t know what I think.”

“You need time Harry.” Ginny said simply. “In time the answer will come to you.”

“Time is something not on my side. The wedding is in five days time.” He said as the made there was on through the forest; soon they would be at the far side, in the field which would lead back to the Burrow. They had been walking for about an hour now. Ginny had a few cakes rolled up and two cartons of orange juice they would take when they reached the end of the forest, at the fallen down tree which made a convenient bench.

“Yes, the wedding.” Ginny said with an understanding nod. “Please promise me something though Harry won’t you?” She asked as she turned around to face him with an imploring look. “Don’t say anything to Hermione unless you are sure of them. To still love her is ok. Tell her or leave her, its ok, but unless you’re sure, then don’t say anything, because it’s not fair on her. Don’t make her worry about more than she needs to. Promise won’t you Harry?”

He gave a sigh…

“I promise.”

They reached the fallen tree shortly later. It seemed Ginny didn’t have any more to say on Harry situation, which pleased him fine. He liked half listening to her tell him about her own problems, or about how annoying her mother was. Harry found it quiet comfortable, since he seldom listened to anyone talk, and so wasn’t practiced at answering. Thankfully Ginny only expected the occasional nod.

Once they had finished their cake they walked a short way out into the meadow, where they lay in the sun silently. Harry felt tempted to fall asleep in the quiet field, the wind playing gently across his face, carrying the smell of flowers and the pine forest with it. Ginny laid by his side, her eyes closed. It wasn’t hot enough to get a suntan, but it was a comfortable temperature at the moment.

They made their way back slowly, talking about what they did in their free time. Again Ginny mostly talked, for her free time sounded more exciting.

“Do you think Hermione was in the wrong when we were together?” Harry suddenly asked, surprising her. “When I said she was to busy and she refused to agree, do you think I was right, that she was in the wrong.”

“That’s not for me to answer.” Ginny responded. “It is only really up to you and her to decide. Some people only see each other a few times a year but they are Happy. It all depends on what sort of person you are.”

Once they had made it back to the burrow Harry only stayed a little longer. He would have liked to stay and say hello to Mr Weasley but time was getting on. It was just past five and he was supposed to be getting dinner ready tonight. He considered getting a takeaway, for in the past so often had she missed a meal he had bothered cooking. However he felt that tonight would be different. She wouldn’t dare be late would she?

He bid Molly and Ginny farewell as he apparated to a safe point a street away from Hermione’s house. There was a small Tesco store nearby which he picked up some groceries from before heading back her house. He was going to cook some turkey escallops with new potatoes and some other vegetables. He didn’t know whether her tastes had changed or not, but everyone loved turkey escallops. He let himself in at about twenty minutes past five, and began cooking the evening meal, whilst anxiously awaiting her return.

The clock just tolled out six o clock when he heard a key turn in the lock, Hermione was back from work, on time, just as he had expected.

“You here Harry?” She called out from the doorway as she slung her jacket up on the hook.

“What, you thought that the smell of delicious gourmet food was coming from no where did you? He asked sarcastically as he stuck his head out of the kitchen. “Don’t worry it’s not ready yet though. We still have about ten fifteen minutes.”

Hermione walked into the kitchen and looked round. Harry had just been washing up whilst he waited for the vegetables to come to the boil and for whatever was in the over to cook. She suspected it was some form of turkey. Harry loved turkey. He was wearing some rubber gloves and her pink apron, which caused her to laugh a bit. She set her bag down on the counter, and set about helping with the last few things that needed doing.

“Need any help?” She asked him as she lifted one of the saucepan lids inspecting.

“Well if you like you can put the cutlery and place mats out. Other than that grab a seat and open your mouth because I will be done in a minute.”

Not wanting to disobey Harry, she did as he said. She went into the dining room and had a look round. Her work papers had been put on the sideboard and so she put out the place mats and made sure everything was ready. She wondered briefly whether she should bother with candles, but in the end decided against it as she didn’t want to give Harry the wrong idea. She did however select some soft music to play in the background.

A moment later Harry bought the food in before taking a seat at the table opposite Hermione. As she predicted it was turkey escallops.

“So how was your day?” He asked as he poured out a glass of wine for each of them.

“Pretty uneventful, she responded, as she pulled herself closer to the table. “There was a bit of a problem around lunch time, some Muggle got caught up, you know how it was, how was your day?” She asked. Harry told her all about his day, neglecting to mention the conversation he had had with Ginny. She didn’t need to know about that.

Once they had finished the meal Harry poured out the remaining wine and bought in desert, which was nothing fancy, just Jam rolly polly. He wasn’t trying to gt Hermione drunk, though he certainly encouraged her to drink her wine. Perhaps after she had drunk a bit she would be more relaxed, and maybe even be a bit more open. He couldn’t help but get the impression she wasn’t being entirely honest with him, though he didn’t blame her, since he wasn’t being entirely honest either.

For a start he wasn’t going to say that he came back to try and stop her marrying. He supposed that was why he was back. After all it’s what Ron and Ginny both thought.

“Are you trying to get me drunk?” Hermione asked as Harry filled up her glass for a fourth time. They were nearing the end of the second bottle already.

“Me? No never.” He said in an unconvincing manner. “Did you have anything planned for after dinner?” He asked. “If not then I hired out a film we could watch. It’s been out for a while but I saw it at the Cinema last year and I liked it. I don’t know if you have seen it.”

“I don’t have time to go to the cinema.” She replied with a laugh. “What film is it then? It had better not be one of those awful subtitle martial arts films where everyone goes flying through the air that Ron recommended.”

“Those are a genuine art form.” He protested, sticking up for film violence in the way any boy would. “If you could only accept the verisimilitude. Anyway no it’s not one of those. It’s dancing with wolves.”

“Couldn’t you have chosen something a little shorter? That film is like four hours long isn’t it?”

“No, its three hours and forty five minutes.”

“Well I suppose I can watch it with you but do you mind if I mark a few papers at the same time? It’s just I wasn’t expecting to take up the whole night.

“Yeah I guess you can, it is your house after all…”

Once they had finished desert and cleared away the things, which was only a few minutes later, Harry popped the dvd in and sat back on the chair.

“I have sweeties if you want some.” He said as he waved a large bag at her. She rolled her eyes.

“I have to watch my figure Harry. I do want to fit into my wedding dress next week, unless that is your plan, to make me too fat that I wont fit into it, so I wont get married.” Harry laughed at this, though he didn’t say no. Hermione was onto him.

They sat on the chair together, Harry watching excitedly, whilst Hermione threw it the occasional glance, but mostly staring down at the papers in front of her, reading by the lamp light.

“You’re missing the good bits.” He protested as a man just shot himself.

“No I’m not, besides the good bits don’t start until John meets up with stands with a fist.

Half an hour later Hermione had finished her papers and put them aside on the coffee table before drawing her legs up on the chair and concentrating on the film. Harry smiled as she did this. The film drew on as it grew dark outside, neither one of them speaking. Occasionally he would glance over to see her still watching, sometimes she would turn back and smile, causing Harry to quickly break his gaze. He didn’t dare look to long into her eyes. He might just get lost in them again.

As the film drew near the end, and Dances with Wolves had just gone back to the soldiers fort he heart a soft rhythmic breathing. He looked across to see Hermione had now fallen asleep. He smiled softly as he watched her peacefully, her breath blowing against the tips of her hair which hung down, her chest rising and falling rhythmically. He decided against waking her anyway, she would probably wake up on her own accord in a few minutes, He didn’t mind is she didn’t wake, he enjoyed watching her sleep, even though he knew he shouldn’t

As the film drew to a close Harry looked at Hermione once again. She was now resting against his shoulder, still fast asleep. He carefully tried to edge out from underneath her, moving as slowly as he could, trying to avoid awakening her. She stirred a little, causing Harry to hesitate. It was at this point a plan formed in his mind. He knew he shouldn’t for it was wrong and selfish, but he managed to convince himself it was in her best interest.

He carefully drew out his wand. He had to be careful, for it was a spell he hadn’t performed in many many years. He racked his brain, before finally muttering in a soft whisper the sleeping spell, which instantly took effect. Hermione’s eyes tightened, as though she was about to wake up, but then they relaxed, until she was in a state of deep sleep. She would still wake up if anything loud were to happen, but it would make her that much more inclined to stay asleep.

He took her in his arms as he stood up from the chair. She felt so small in his arms, so light and delicate. It was charming, and reminded him of just how sweet and innocent she seemed. He walked out of the room, and to the stairs. It was cooler out in the corridor, by the front door, and It caused Harry to notice just how warm her body was. It was a good job he had a long sleeved shirt on, for he felt that if he were to Have Hermione’s skin upon his, he may never be able to put her down.

He slowly walked up the stairs, and to her bedroom, he hadn’t been in it before, but when she had shown him where the bathroom was she pointed to the door at the end of the corridor and told him that was her and Adams room. Harry tried not to think of her fiancé. He was probably a bastard. He kicked open the bedroom door as he tried to keep his balance. He swayed for a minute and feared he would drop Hermione, but thankfully he managed to regain his balance.

The room was tidy, which wasn’t surprising. It was painted with a cream colour, and was exactly how he had expected her room to be. There was a king size bed in the middle of the room, with deep crimson bed sheets in the middle. He gently placed Hermione down and drew back the covers before turning his attention to her clothing. He would have to get her undressed. It was a tough job, but someone had to do it!

It was a good job he was so noble.

He watched her for several long minutes, as she lie in her bed, looking so peaceful, the moonlight through the open window, playing across her skin, causing it to practically glow in the night air. It drew Harry to her with its serene beauty, almost unnaturally. She was still dressed in her work clothes. She had on a knee length skirt, and a white blouse, which accentuated her curves. She was also wearing a matching jacket over this, and a small tie.

Harry cast a glance at the clock. It was just gone midnight. He looked back towards Hermione; she had her right arm up over her head as she lay on her back. The room was totally silent of all but her rhythmic breathing, as he simply knelt there taking in where he was and everything about the situation, with every sense I possessed.

He finally tore her gaze from her perfect face, soft curls of hair falling down past her neck, caressing her skin in the gentlest of manners. He looked down to her smooth legs, and perfect as he had ever remembered them, perfect in shape, and as smooth and cream coloured as ever. He was tempted to reach out and caress them there and then, but resisted the urge for fear that she would wake up still, despite the spell.

He carefully removed her socks, sliding them off her feet, so small in comparison to his. He smiled to himself when he saw that her toenails were painted to match her fingers. Only Hermione would bother to paint her toes when she was going to be wearing socks all the time.

His knuckles grazed her ankles as he removed the socks, and he hesitated, revelling in such a simple thing, such a small amount of contact, and yet it was enough to make him draw a breath and close his eyes, as he gently ran a finger across the side of her foot, feeling her skin, which had once been so available to him, and was now forbidden along with the strictest taboo’s.

He increased the pressure of his touch, until he was using his hole hand, feeling her perfection, how soft her feet were, despite the fact she walked so much. The shape of her ankles, everything about her, was so familiar and yet so different to him. He felt he could see better if he closed his eyes, than he could in the moon light. The memories of the times they shared, of her body, it was so clear, that he could see it almost better than real life, as though what he saw in real life was when he didn’t have his glasses on, and everything somehow seemed blurry.

He drew his hand away, for as small as his intentions were they were quickly growing, and whilst the lightest of touches was more fulfilling than anything he could remember recently, he was lost with his mind. He could never be happy with what he had. What he would have given anything for only a moment ago, was no longer good enough, and soon he felt himself craving more, wanting to run his hands over her arms, to touch her, to smell her, to taste her.

How much he wanted to kiss her…

He quickly glanced back to her face, where she seemed as deep in sleep as she ever did. She smiled a little, perhaps from a dream, or perhaps from Harry’s touch, before rolling over a little, bringing her arm down as though she were hugging a bear that wasn’t there. He thought to himself how this accentuated her child like qualities, made her seem younger again, like when they had first started going out. Harry supposed Hermione would always seem young and beautiful, he could never imagine her being anything else.

He got up from his knees for a moment, which clcied as he stood. He needed to calm down. He shouldn’t have been here in the first place, and he would have left, had he been of stronger conviction. Instead he merely walked to the window, where he gulped in the cool night air, and tried to calm his mind. He was getting to involved, for no reason. He couldn’t have her, and he knew it. The fact he was doing this, touching her in her sleep, like some kind of pervert…

Maybe that is what he was? Maybe she had reduced him to whatever he was now…

He didn’t care.

He removed her tie as gently as he could. He wanted so badly to run his fingers along her neck, yet she had always been ticklish there. He feared he would make her laugh or wake up if he tried such a thing. Instead he merely concentrated on the tie. It was cotton, or some other fabric, but felt as hard and sharp as sandpaper on his hands, compared to the infinitely smooth texture of the pale cream skin.

He set about removing the next article of clothing. It was her jacket. If he had thought ahead then he would have taken it off before lying her down, but as he raised her up, and carefully removed it, sliding it off her arms, before carefully placing her back down on the bed he gave a sigh of relief and dismissed his fear. She probably wouldn’t wake up no matter what. After all he knew it was a relatively powerful spell. He was just being overcautious he supposed.

The top button of her shirt was done, and Harry looked at it for a moment, fighting an inner debate, before reaching forward and undoing one more. There, she should be comfortable sleeping like that he supposed. He would have happily undressed her all the way, but he knew she would be less than appreciative in the morning if he did. He leant forward on the bed, the mattress sinking under his weight as he leant forwards, leaning over her. He could smell her, like flowers and some other indescribable aroma, it was intoxicating.

Hermione rolled over a little so she was once again flat on her back, in the middle of the double bed. Harry got up off the floor to sit on the edge beside her. He sat for several minutes just playing with her hair. It was enough to distract him from his thoughts, which were for once not logical. Her shirt had risen up slightly, to reveal a few inches of flat smooth skin on her stomach. He cast one final glance at Hermione, who lay motionless before he reached out and placed his hand upon her.

He paused for a moment, letting her adjust to his feel. Her stomach rose and fell only a small amount with each breath she took. He was as skinny as he had remembered, if not more so, and he briefly fretted if she was eating properly. He always maintained that she should eat more, whilst she, like most girls, believed herself to be to fat.

He began to move his fingers lightly along her downy soft skin, up and down then the smallest of circles, feeling the light hairs across her middle before he reached to her right side wrapping his fingers around her ribs, almost holding her, pressing his palm into her. At that moment he felt her stir, but after another moment, she didn't move, she was still sleeping. Her breathing hadn't even changed. Her top was now pulled up all the way to just under her breasts, by the bunched up fabric that pressed against him as he sat by her side.

Hermione hand moved down, until it was by Harry’s wrist. There was a moment of fleeting panic, in which he thought she had awoken, and was stopping him, but as nothing else came of it he realised she must still have been asleep. Harry lay back a little flatter, almost beside her in the bed now. He took the hand that was on his wrist, and held it in his free hand. They were so small in his. They used to hold hands all the time…

He closed his eyes and lay back, his hand running over her flat stomach, up to the bottom of her chest, as far as the bunched up material would allow without him removing her shirt. He wasn’t going to though. He knew that would be going too far. He was picturing her beneath the fabric, the soft skin exposed, her body right next to his. The intimacy of the evening, utterly unrepeatable. It would never happen again.

The clouds in the sky outside moved along, and the moon shone clearly once again. The room lightened a little, and Harry could see the start of the rise of her breasts, the fabric of the shirt had risen just slightly showing about the edges of her bra, lacy red. She was so beautiful, he thought. It was so warm and the scent of her body enveloped him, the sound of her breathing, the rise and fall of her stomach seemed magnified.

Harry leaned forwards and in a moment of madness, decided to kiss her. He hesitated at the last moment, but sheer longing and lust over powered reason at this point and he closed the gap, letting his lips gently brush against hers. She pressed against him lightly, in her sleep she must have been thinking of something else. Harry broke the contact for a minute as he caught his breath which he had been holding.

“Don’t, Stop.” She murmured.

He quickly recoiled, as though he had been stung. Eventually as she said no more he deciding she was sleep talking. She had done occasionally when they lived together. He took her advice none the less though, as he gently stood up. He had to stop. If he didn’t now he knew he never would be able to. It was at that moment as he stood watching the angelic figure sleep, bathed in moonlight, looking so calm, so serene, with the taste of her on his lips… at that moment, as he felt hot tears roll down his cheeks, that he realised he still loved her as much as he ever had done before.

The next morning Hermione awoke with the foggy morning sun shine playing across here eyes. She knew something was strange even before she opened her eyes. She always drew her curtains, which were thick and velvet lined. She obviously had not done last night, or else her room wouldn’t have been nearly as bright as it was now.

It took her a few moments before she managed to trace back her memory and find out the cause of this…

She had fallen asleep…

…On Harrry…

As she remembered this she sat up quickly, the bedsheets falling down. She glanced down, and was relieved to find she was still clothed. Not that she had expected otherwise. Although at the same time she hadn’t doubted it. She wasn’t sure what she had expected. She suspected that Harry perhaps had some feeling for her still (she could tell it from looking into his eyes.) and yet she supposed perhaps she just imagined the small signs…

The way he looked, never directly at her…The way he hardly even seemed able to meet her gaze come to that. The way he looked at everything she touched, as though it were his enemy, or as though it were diseased… She shook her head at these thoughts. She shouldn’t be thinking about Harry, not when her weeding was so close, now only five days away. Adam would be back in a few days, which would be nice.

She climbed out of bed, stretching and yawning as she did so. It was a Tuesday today which meant she didn’t have to be in quiet so early. She could therefore have a nice soak in the bath, rather than a shower. She looked down at her clothing. Harry had obviously removed her jacket and her socks. She thought briefly, as she looked down at her shirt, that perhaps he had undone one of the buttons, but then the shirt itself was a bit small, and the material stretched against the swell of her bosom could well have caused it.

He also removed her tie, and although he probably saw nothing she was glad she hadn’t worn a truly hideous bra. Not that she had any reason to please him of course. She would never forgive him. It was merely a fact that women should always make an extra special effort to look good when ex-boyfriends are around. If you cant rub their noses in it what can you do? She discarded her crumpled dirty clothes, before gingerly making her way to the bedroom door. She stuck her head round the door, just to make sure that Harry wasn’t upstairs or in the bathroom.

There was a faint clanging sound form downstairs, which revealed Harry’s whereabouts, so quickly as stealthily, like a rabbit darting across the snow, Hermione ran to the bathroom…naked.

Harry breathed in the deep aroma of the cooking breakfast. The bacon would be a little bit burnt around the edges, but then he wasn’t Jamie Oliver. Other than that thought it would all be done near perfectly, as was most of his food. Harry had a talent for cooking, even though he didn’t use magic at all. He heard the bath running upstairs, and the faint gurgle of the piped as the water ran threw them. Hermione was obviously up, though he was surprised as he thought she had work today. If not then perhaps she could spend the day with him?

He wondered briefly what he would be doing today. It was so strange not to know what to do with his free time. At home there was always work to do, and when there wasn’t he always had other things to entertain his mind, such as a large music collection, or the most recent computer game.

Ron had a scheduled practice again today, so that ruled that option out, and Ginny, who was a part time secretary at the ministry of magic would be working as well today. Harry didn’t know it yet, but Hermione and Ginny went into work together on Tuesdays. He supposed he could catch up with some other people, maybe even visit Hogwarts. Dumbledore had passed away two years ago, and in a strange turn of events Remus Lupin had become the new headmaster. He would probably enjoy catching up with Harry over a cup of tea.

Fifteen minutes later he was serving the breakfast up onto the plates. He worried what was taking Hermione so long, but then she was a girl, and he supposed he should have prepared for this eventuality. It didn’t bother him however. He was used to eating without her, even when they had been dating. He was just about to pour himself a glass of orange juice when the phone rang. Harry let it ring twice, deciding to leave it alone until he heard Hermione call down from upstairs.

“Could you get that please Harry, I’m not decent.”

“I can close my eyes.” He joked, but walked over to the wireless phone attached to the wall. He picked the receiver up and raised it to his head,

“Hello…Granger residence.” He said, not knowing Adams surname, and not caring to either. There was a moment’s pause on the other end before a voice spoke questioningly.

“Is Hermione there?”

“Yes hang on a second I will just go and get her, can I ask who’s calling?”

“Adam…” came the curt reply.

Harry almost dropped the receiver in disgust and shock, but managed to suppress it. So that was the voice of his enemy. The one who had stolen Hermione's heart. He sounded like an idiot. He was probably ugly as well… and it wouldn’t have surprised Harry at all if Adam had been dribbling into the receiver as well. He held the receiver at arms length as though it were diseased, and also so that the pounding of his heart couldn’t be heard.

He walked out of the kitchen and up the stairs. He stood on the landing looking for Hermione.

“Uh, Mione… Phone.” He called to her with his hadn’t over the receiver, as he cast around for where she may be. He took a few steps forwards and glanced into the bathroom to see that it was empty. He was just about to knock on her bedroom door, which was closed when it began to open. At the same time there was a loud crack, like a gun being fired, which caused Harry to spin around.

The phone fell from his hand as he drew his wand instantly, in a defensive manoeuvre as he spun round to face the attacker. At the same time as his mind raced ahead, his feet failed to keep up. As he looked to the figure that had apparated in, and saw it was Ginny, he felt himself trip as his foot caught on the carpet (it was a stupid carpet in his mind). He began to fall backwards his hands flailing for something to keep upright. The hadn without the wand managed to clasp onto something, that felt soft, damp, and towel like. It didn’t break his fall however, and a moment later he found himself on the floor, with Hermione naked underneath him.

He was staring into her eyes, which looked confused, and scared. Ginny was the one that started the problems from that point, and it took him many years to forgive her, for as she turned round her eyes widened and she said in an accusing tone loud enough to be heard clearly by the phone lying on the floor.

“Hermione, why are you naked… and Harry, why are you on top of her?!”

“It was an accident though.” Hermione explained into the phone which she had taken into her bedroom. The door was closed and Harry and Ginny were both standing outside with their ears pressed to the door. Although they couldn’t hear what Adam was saying they could hear every word Hermione said, and this conversation was far too exciting to miss.

“Do you get into these accidents with any other guys?” Adam asked hotly. “I mean…”

“I know what you mean.” Hermione snapped before calming her voice a little and continuing. “And that’s not fair. Harry is back in town for the wedding and he just popped over this morning to see me. He didn’t know I had to get ready still, so I told him to have some breakfast whilst I got ready, and then maybe we could talk for a little bit before I went off to work with Ginny. He tripped and we fell. That’s all that happened.”

“I thought we agreed you wouldn’t invite him.” Adam said after several seconds silence.

“Well yeah but that was just because I didn’t think we would show up. Now that he has I would like him to be there, as a friend.”

“Well I’m not to comfortable about it.” Came the reply. “I mean you guys dated and everything.”

“That’s over, you know that now and you knew it back when we first started dating. He’s my best friend Adam and I would like him to be there.”

“But you haven’t seen him for four years, how can he be your best friend?”

“Because friends don’t have an expiration date, that’s why.” She said in a tired tone.

Ginny turned to Harry outside the door and gave him a glare.

“That traitor!” She whispered. “I’m meant to be her best friend. Honestly Harry stop being so charming.”

“I’m not charming.” He said as he tried to shut Ginny up. He couldn’t hear what was being said inside the bedroom.

“Like hell you’re not, you could charm the pants of the pope, or at least off me.” She said with a giggle which worried him.

Hermione sat down on the bed and slumped back onto the mattress.

“Buy why does he have to visit the house? Hasn’t he got other friends?”

“He has got other friends, but he has visited them already. He has been in town two days now…”

“Where is he staying?” Adam asked through gritted teeth. Hermione wouldn’t be that stupid would she…?”

“Um he said he is staying at the travel lodge.” She said, refraining from mentioning one of his friends. If she said he was staying with the Weasley’s Adam could probably find out, having met them on a few occasions, and having there telephone number.

“Ok, well anyway I just called to say I’m going to be back earlier than expected. One of the partners had to drop out of the deal, so there wasn’t really any competition on the singing. We got everything sorted out this morning, so I will be getting the plane back soon. I should touch down at Heathrow about seven o’clock.”

“Wow that’s good.” Hermione said as she reached over for the note pad and wrote down the time in case she forgot.

Harry didn’t know what was good, not being able to hear, but he had a vague suspicion it wasn’t going to be good for him.

“Would you like a lift back? Save getting you the taxi fair.” Hermione volunteered.

“No that’s alright. I know you are probably busy with papers from work. Besides what I would really love more than anything is some decent food. There is no such thing as good food over here. I tell you right about now I could murder some turkey escallops.”

“Well I think we have some, I will see what I can rummage up ok.” Hermione said as they began their goodbyes. Thankfully it wasn’t horribly drawn out and lovey dovey, due to the fact Adam was on his cell phone, and the credit was running low. Once Hermione hung up the phone she sat on her bed a minute later wondering how she would chuck Harry out. He had been planning on staying a few nights longer, and although he could pay for a hotel she still wasn’t going to relish the experience.

As Harry and Ginny heard the beep of the phone they quickly crept away form the door. It was a good job it was a thick carpet, for the floor boards would have creaked otherwise. They went downstairs to the kitchen where breakfast was now cold. Harry ate his bacon, but cold toast and soggy cereal didn’t really touch on his culinary pallet.

“Oh well breakfast is ruined.” Harry said with no level of surprise. Hermione had a habit of ruining breakfasts, though he supposed he could have eaten it while it was still hot, rather than listen to her conversation. This was technically an option, though with curiosity present it wasn’t even worth considering. He just wished he could hear what Adam said. Maybe they would break up? He would like that, though he wouldn’t hold his breath.

“Well I’m sure you don’t mind Harry, after all you did get to cop a feel.” Ginny said slyly, causing Harry to blush deeply and look down at his plate.

“I did no such thing.” He said quietly (and rather sadly too). I’m a gentleman and would never dream of doing such a thing.

“Like hell you wouldn’t.” Said Ginny as she poured herself some coffee. “I have had sex with you often enough in the past Harry to know there is nothing gentlemanly about it.” If possible his coloured darkened even more. Rather than try and come up with some witty response (though he knew he couldn’t) he simply said.

“You like it like that though.” Ginny nodded with a big smile at this, before drawing the morning paper over to her for a quick glance.

“The fact I fell on her and she happened to be naked was an accident, and I didn’t see anything.” He continued. I was looking at her face when I fell, and then I closed my eyes as she pushed me off of her and ran into the room.” He didn’t feel it necessary to mention that he had seen a fair bit the night before.

“Well Harry that’s good then.” Ginny said seriously. “Seeing her at all is going to be tough, but naked… There is no need to go down that road. The more distant you stay from her the less you will both be hurt, know that Harry.

They fell into silence as Hermione entered the room, now fully clothed.

“My ears are burning.” Hermione said as she looked at both their guilty faces. They had jumped into one of those highly suspicious silences which could only follow a conversation about the person who had just entered the vicinity.

“I can get an ice pack out if you would like.” Ginny joked.

“Yeah, you should keep it cool, could be a rash.” Harry added as He finished with his plate and scraped half of it into the bin.

“So what are you’re plans for today, and though I haven’t asked, what are you doing here Ginny?”

“Well I thought I told you, but I work at the ministry part time.” Ginny said rather matter of factly. “Me and Hermione go in to work together in Tuesdays. You know how floo network traffic can be these days.”

“I have heard.” Harry responded, having not used it in several years. Despite the fact he avoided magic when possible, floo network was also the worst form of magical travel there was. It was ruffing it, in his eyes.

“Well it’s nice to have someone to talk to while you wait…” Ginny said before fading off…

“Well I guess that means that you two will be busy…” Harry concluded. He knew he shouldn’t have gotten his hopes up. After all he had spent all evening with Hermione, and even fallen on her naked body. He couldn’t expect to much.

“Yeah sorry about that Harry, I hear Ron’s free.” Hermione offered sweetly. Ginny snorted.

“When isn’t Ron free. All he seems to do is slob about the house.

“Yeah I might give him a call, or maybe I will drop by Hogwarts. I hear they dedicated a room to me for outstanding service throughout the ages.”

“You could go and see it, but I don’t know if you’re head will fit through the door.” Ginny said as she stuck her tongue out. “Now come on Mione we will be late again.”

“I’m never late… But would you mind waiting in the lounge a minute Ginny, I need to have a word with Harry.”

She nodded and left the room, leaving Harry staring at the woman of his dreams. He could tell by the expression on her face that she wasn’t about to profess an undying love for him.

“Harry, um that was Adam on the phone, as you probably know. Well he kind of heard what Ginny said about me being naked, and it kind of freaked him out. I explained it all but I still don’t think you want to be around when he is. It seems he is finished business earlier than we expected and he could be back as early as tonight. I know its short notice and everything but you can’t be here when he is… you’re going to have to find some place else to stay while your in England.”

Harry sat in silence for a minute as he looked at Hermione. His chair creaked as he leant back on it, and he felt a pang in his heart, one of disappointment and hatred. Disappointment that he wouldn’t be able to spend another night in close company, or maybe being able to see her sleep again, if only for a moment, and hatred at it being the fault of Adam, who couldn’t possibly love her as much as she deserved. Only the briefest of frowns passed his face, and he felt it was fast enough for Hermione to not have noticed.

“That’s ok.” I do have money and I can just rent a room in Diagon Alley or something.

“I am sorry Harry, I know its short notice but it might be for the best.”

“Oh yeah of course.” He replied quickly. “I mean with our history and everything.”

“Still I will see you tomorrow I expect. We are having a wedding rehearsal and I expect you to come along.”

“You have to revise for a wedding?” Harry asked as he raised an eyebrow. Hermione gave him a glare which made him repeat himself. “You have to revise for a wedding.” He said understandingly, as he placed emphasis on the first word.

He bid Hermione farewell a minute later, and after washing the dishes and packing up his belongings he walked out of the front door. He stood for a moment, a bag of clothes in one hand and his coat slung over the other. The wind blew across his face, messing his hair. He looked around for a minute, before deciding on what he would do. Firstly he would have to drop off his bags. He couldn’t go anywhere with them weighing him down.

He hailed a taxi, and not long later he stepped into the leaky Cauldron. Although it was a week day, and not to busy, he still attracted much more attention than he cared for.

“a room please.” He asked for as he tried not to draw any attention. Tom the barkeep tried to make conversation, but Harry cut him off. “I’m afraid if I hang around for long then I might end up drawing to much attention.”

“Understanding you perfectly.” Tom replied as he passed Harry a key. “First door on the left. You can be sure I won’t mention you.”

Harry ran up the stairs to his room where he deposited his bags. There were plenty of stupid wizards outside who wanted him to sign autographs and things. He was a human, (and debatably a murderer of the evil) but not a celebrity. After waiting as long as he dared for people to forget about him he made a quick dash back down the stairs and out back into Muggle London. The last thing he needed right now was more reporters.

He looked left and right. He had been here just yesterday with Ron, but he had foolishly not paid much attention to the directions and he had also not told his taxi to wait for him. He set off at a brisk walk to the right, where he felt the nearest pay phone would be. He would give Ron a phone call, see if he wanted to do anything. Harry spotted a pay phone attached to the side of the building. There was one next to it, but someone had ripped the receiver off the hook, and the other one was occupied, so he stood waiting for a fat muggle woman to finish talking about rubbish.

As he waited he didn’t hear the approach of footsteps behind him, nor did he see the two shifty looking figures approach, as he normally would have done. Harry was seldom one to be caught unaware, but with his thoughts full of Hermione, he was not his usual perceptive self. It was only when he felt a tingle run down his back, saw the shadow on the ground, and felt a hand clamp down on his shoulder that he realised something was wrong. He spun round to see a man in a trench coat and sunglasses, before he was pushed down into the alley.

This chapter took a long time to write, and is a little longer than most. I didn’t want to cut it down as it deals with a definite section of the story in itself.

He went to reach for his wand, but before he could put his hand in his pocket a gloved hand clasped him round the wrist with a pincer like grip, before spinning him round so his face was pressed up against the wall and his arm was twisted behind him.

“Move and I’ll break it.” Said the voice as he twisted Harry’s arm a little further just to show that he could do.

“What interest would I be to you? You’re obviously not going to mug me.” Harry said as calmly as he could. “It’s already been ten seconds and you haven’t asked for my wallet. Do you work for Voldemort?”

“Yes.” Came the reply.

“I recognise your voice.”

“So you should. We have met before after all.” Said the man as he loosened his grip on Harry a little. Harry could have broken out of the hold, but he knew this man didn’t pose much of a threat to him, at least not on his own. Instead he merely cursed at the fact he hadn’t anticipated this already.

“What do you want?” Harry asked

“That’s a good question, and there are a few things, but the main thing I want to know Harry, is what do you want with Hermione?” the man asked.

“Nothing.” He replied as suddenly the grip tightened again. Harry heard his shoulder click out of place as the tendons strained.

“You lie.”

“Let me go and perhaps I can explain better. After all I know you can’t kill me, and you won’t get anything from breaking my arm.

“I’m not going to break your arm...” The man said softly as he whispered into Harry’s ear. “But you are right, I can’t kill you, and even if I could I don’t know if I would.”

“I think you would.” Harry said curtly. “You lot eat death for breakfast, or so the name would suggest.

“mmm well I already had cereal.” The man said, though he had a tone of uncertainty about him.

“Whatever, I know what you are, I have seen the mark on your arm.”

Suddenly the man released his grip on Harry, who spun round and drew his wand, though he knew he would never use it against such a weak opponent.

“You know I have nothing against you Harry, except who you are. I wish things were different but they are not. You did a great job these last three years so why bother coming back now, why do you test my promises?”

“She is getting married.”

“What has that to do with you?” The man asked as he removed his sunglasses and took his hat off. He had long black hair just as he had last time Harry had seen him, though there were a few streaks of grey that had obviously been missed by the die he undoubtedly used.

“She is my best friend and I promised her a long time ago I would go to her wedding.”

“She doesn’t expect you to keep that promise. I forbid you to go Harry. If you love her as I think you do, then you won’t go.”

“You claim to be a decent man, yet you threaten me with her life. That’s just the way of a death eater, to threaten someone with the ones they care for.”

“I love her.” The man replied. “And I do what I must to protect her. If that means threatening to kill her to save her from what she would be subjected to because of you, then that’s something I know I must do.” He said with a raspy voice as he tried to keep his emotions in check.

“You must do nothing of the sort. For the last three years I have been working undercover. I have been, for the Government of Australia to bring about and execute without trial, all suspected Death Eaters. The only reason you forbid me from what was meant to be mine, the reason you feel the right to rob me of my life, is because of some stupid imagination of yours. The threat isn’t very real anymore. Most death Eaters have been bought to justice.” Harry shouted. A few muggles walking past the alley looked at them suspiciously, but none cared to involve themselves with such shifty figures.

“You haven’t killed all have you though Harry.” The man said with a sneer. “I’m one and you haven’t killed me, and I bet I’m not the only one.”

“You’re right, you’re not the only one,” Harry replied. “But it doesn’t matter because I didn’t come here to stop her getting married. I came here so I could see her marry another man, and put my life behind me, which until now has always trailed me like a shadow. “I’m not the groom, you got what you wanted. You Won.” He said sullenly, before turning and walking out onto the main street, leaving Mr Granger where he was standing.

He hated that man, if possible, more than he hated any other. Voldemort was a mass murdered, and he took pleasure in torturing and tearing families apart, yet Harry had never known him to threaten to kill his own flesh and blood. Harry would have to lie to Hermione again, something he hated doing. He would never mention today’s meeting, just as he would never mention the meeting three years ago, on the day that Harry left his life behind.”

The reason he had left England, the reason he had gone to live in Sydney, on the far side of the world. It was perhaps because Hermione broke his heart, but that was only the reason he could tell his friends. There was the other reason, the one he could never tell anyone, and a reason he tried never to even remember.

It had been three years ago, almost to the day that he had arranged to see Mr Granger. It had been arranged some time in advance, and even though Hermione let him down when she didn’t come home, he knew what he still wanted, he wanted to marry her. Nothing would ever change his mind. He knew he wanted to marry her then, he knew he would in the future, and he certainly had for as long as he had known she loved him back.

Harry woke up on that morning, the morning of the day after their argument, and the morning of the day on which he would leave. He glanced across the bed to see an empty space besides him. He didn’t know if Hermione had left early, or if she had even made it back in the first place. He tried not to think about it, and instead concentrated on the task at hand. He had got the morning off Quidditch practice and would be going to Diagon alley this morning to meet Mr Granger. He pulled himself out of bed before showering and breakfast. He still had a little while yet so he sat at the kitchen table with the sun shining in through the net curtains as he did the crossword.

After that he spent several minutes deciding what clothes to choose. He wanted to appear smart, and yet not like he had dressed up for the occasion. He wanted to look relatively Muggle, without trying to deny the wizard fashions. He had spoken to Mr Granger on several occasions, but Hermione had always been there, and without her Harry wasn’t really sure there would be much of a common interest or grounds to cover during conversation. Still they were going to be discussing Hermione so he supposed it would go well enough.

Once he was fully ready, and after watching count down on television (and humming to the timer) he set out for Diagon alley. At this point in his life he didn’t really have much of a disliking against magic. He didn’t use it all the time, for magic reminded him of the battle against Voldemort, yet he still lived in his magical life, with Hermione and his friends, and so he wasn’t yet running from it.

He took the floo network and managed to arrive five minutes later at Diagon alley, being held up only briefly by morning traffic. Mr Granger had insisted on meeting in Diagon alley, for he realised that to Harry being in a Muggle environment could be dangerous, and also because he did love the ice cream which was available here. Harry walked along the cobbled stone courtyard to where they were meant to meet. Several people greeted him on his way and he courteously replied with a smile and a hello, before carrying on his way.

The café was a small one, with metal tables outside, which at this time of year was ideal. It was to dark and fusty inside the leaky cauldron, whilst the gentle autumn weather meant the sun wasn’t going to be burning the back of their necks and leave them squinting for the whole conversation. Harry cast a glance round and saw that Mr Granger wasn’t there yet, which was a good thing. He took a seat at one of the table and ordered himself a glass of Coke Cola, He wasn’t much a fan of coffee. Three minutes later Harry spotted the figured of Mr Granger approaching.

He was dressed as a Muggle would dress, but he was wearing a black cape, which diverted much of the attention he would otherwise be attracting. He had shoulder length black hair which he kept tied in a pony tail, and when he smiled at Harry he could see a set of dazzling white teeth which could belong only to a dentist or a celebrity (or a celebrity dentist).

“Sorry I’m late.” Mr Granger said as he removed his cloak and hung it over the back of his chair.

“You’re not late.” Harry assured him. “I just made sure to be early.”

“So how are you Harry? I haven’t seen you since Easter?” Mr Granger began as they started with small talk. Neither of them broached the topic of why they were really there, and Harry wondered if Mr Granger suspected the truth, for he was an intelligent man.

“So Harry why was it you wanted to speak to me?” Mr Granger asked as he scratched one of his lower arms which was concealed under a long sleeve jumper.

“Well I was planning on asking Hermione to marry me, but I thought it would be best if I asked you first.”

Well Harry that’s rather noble of you.” Mr Granger said without a smile. “But why do you ask me? If I said no you would go and do it anyway wouldn’t you?”

“Yes, I suppose I would, but it would feel better knowing I have her family’s blessings. I know how much Hermione cares about your opinions after all.”

“Yes that is true, since her mother passed away she has been rather, caring… But tell me Harry why do you want to marry my daughter and why should I say yes?” He asked as he scratched his arm some more.

Harry hesitated for a moment, slightly unsure as to at what point exactly it had varied from his imagination. Still he tried his best to answer and keep things going smoothly.

“Um, I would like to marry her because I love her and she loves me and I think we would be happy together.”

“Well i guess that sounds like a good reason.” Mr granger said distractedly. “But I’m afraid Harry that I can’t give you my permission to do so yet. I don’t think now is a good time. After all you two haven’t been together that long and there is no need to rush things is there. I’m sorry to say it but I think you should wait.

Harry was speechless as he listened to this. Sure him and Hermione hadn’t been going out long but they had been best friends for years, and so it was like going out all that time, except without the physical aspect…

“Are you sure I couldn’t change your mind at all?” Harry asked. “It’s just I had it planned and…” He began before being cut off.

“No I’m afraid I can’t allow it to happen.” He said as he took a sip of his drink. At this point however something happened which killed off all conversation which was that as he raised his glass to his mouth, his sleeve fell down a little, revealing part of what appeared to be a tattoo. It was a skull with a snake coiled through it, and to most it meant nothing, but to Harry it was the very sign of evil itself.

“You’re a death eater!” He exclaimed as he jumped up from his seat and reached for his wand. “What do you say in your defence?” Harry asked threateningly. Mr Granger looked mildly annoyed about the turn of events, but not scared.

“My defence? I will say Harry that if you want Hermione to live you won’t lay a finger on me.” There was a silence that followed this threat, which broke when Harry swore.

“You bastard!”

“No Harry that would be you. Now sit down and I will explain a thing or two.”

Harry remained standing for several seconds, before sitting back down again. He didn’t want to do what Mr. Granger was saying, but he felt his legs would give way beneath him. Hermione was so pure and innocent, like a child. She had never done anything wrong, yet how could she be the daughter of this, this scum? He wanted to see the scar just to make sure it was still there.

“Now Harry.” Mr Granger said calmly as he leant back on his chair, and rubbed his chin thoughtfully. I don’t feel the need to explain myself to you, After all you are the enemy. I will however be kind enough to tell you what you must do, and what should happen if you don’t follow what I say. Do you understand.”

“I understand what you say but not why you say it.” Harry said as he looked round. He couldn’t bear to look at this man anymore. It made him feel worse about Hermione. Something he never thought he could do.

“That’s good enough. Now Harry what is going to happen is this. I don’t want you to marry my daughter, so you aren’t going to do that. I trust that you haven’t asked her yet, otherwise you wouldn’t have asked my permission.”

“But…” Harry went to say, but Mr.Granger ploughed on, seemingly unaware of Harry’s indignation.

“I don’t however feel we shall stop there. What I think you will do Harry is this. After you have left here, you shall return straight home, you will pack up all your belongings and say goodbye to your life. You are to leave the country, and to cease all contact with my daughter. If she asks you why you left, then you will give her an indirect message, through Ron or someone else. I don’t care what excuse you use for your leaving. You can probably come up with a more convincing one than I can. As long as it is not the real reason.”

“What if I shouldn’t?” Harry asked defiantly. This proposal was becoming worse and worse by the second.

“If you would be so polite as to not interrupt me, we would already have begun on that. What will happen, should you break any of the rules that I have laid down for you, then you will be killed, and failing that, as I’m sure we will, Hermione shall be killed. I know you do not want that to happen, and I’m sure you will agree with me that knowing she is safe is better than knowing she is dead. After all a quick death is better than a lot of things.”

“Why don’t I just tell her about you, about what you really are?” Harry spat as he held his drink so hard in his hand that the handle broke off.

“And what am i?” Mr Granger asked, so that Harry could say it.

“A Death Eater.” Harry said, causing Mr.Granger to grin slyly.

“Well now I haven’t forbidden you to tell her Harry.” Mr Granger said with a smile. “You have forbidden yourself. Your conscious will render you unable to, I believe. And I do believe correctly don’t I?”

Hermione worshipped her father. Since her mother had passed away some five years or more ago, her father had been all she had. Him and Harry.

“I would never do that to her.” Harry said quietly. So quietly Mr Granger could hardly hear him.”

“Of course you wouldn’t.” He said as he took on a patronisingly comforting voice. “The thought of it would kill her. After all if she was to find out, either she would come hunting for me, and one of us would die, or else I would be tried, and found guilty, and given a Dementors kiss, which from what I hear, would be no less bearable to her.”

“I see I have no choice.” Harry said as his brain raced. There must have been a way out. Surely he couldn’t be blackmailed so simply. But no, there was no way out. Not one that he could see. After all he cared for Hermione and wanted her to have the best. When it came to either having her father die, or her boyfriend leave her, he knew which would hurt the most. He would have to leave. After all perhaps she could take comfort knowing he was safe, in the same way that he would. He doubted that would be the case though.

“Good. I think that about settles it.” Mr granger said as he laid some money on the table and rose form his seat. “It was a pleasure speaking to you again Harry.” He said sincerely. We went to leave, but as he walked past Harry, the later spoke.

“I have one question though. Do you not care for your daughter at all?”

For the first time that day Mr Granger had a real look of anger on his face.

“Of course I do. More than you will ever know. I just think she is better off without you.” And with that he continued on his way. Harry was left sitting on his own at the table for the next forty five minutes, as he tried to think of some way out of what had been said to him. He didn’t move, as he stared blankly into the air. (In fact he was so still that someone thought he was one of those street performers, and threw some money at him)

At the end of it all he came to the conclusion that he only had to choices. He could either leave, walk away from the woman he loved, or he could stay and risk what Mr granger had said. He wouldn’t really have his own daughter killed would he? It wasn’t something he could risk, no matter how low the chances were.

An hour later he was back at his home, with two suitcases packed, and on his way to the airport.

“You’re next flight to Sydney please.” He said as he shuddered involuntarily at the thought of it, despite the warm weather. “First class please.”

“Will that be a return ticket?” The woman behind the counter asked.

“No, one way.” He responded coldly. The woman glanced briefly into his eyes, causing her heart to beat madly in fear. He had a presence about him one like a caged animal… “It’s all I will need.”

He paid before marching off to the other side of the airport. No more Hermione, no more life.

“A one way ticket to hell.” He said to no one, before disappearing from the face of the earth.

Back in the present day Harry had stormed off away from Mr Granger, and was now sitting on a park bench. He had walked for the best part of a mile, just so he could calm down a little, before finding another phone box and giving Ron a call. Ron had been in the bath at the time but he would come and pick Harry up shortly he said. That meant there would probably be a fair wait, knowing Ron’s standards.

Although it was still early in the morning, just gone ten o’clock, Harry already felt tired. Perhaps it was the fact that he had seen Hermione naked, been caught on the phone by her fiancé, chucked out of the place he was staying at, or been threatened by a death Eater, but he was left with the conclusion that it had been a long morning and would probably be an even longer day. What he needed right now (besides Hermione) was some alcohol.

Normally he wasn’t much of a man of it. Hunting Death Eaters demanded his full senses and as he learned from experience going after them when you cant pronounce your spells or walk in a straight line, isn’t a good idea. However, today he felt in rather need of succour, and he knew how to do it, and who with.

“Fancy a drink?” Harry asked as Ron pulled up in the car park.

“Jesus Harry the day has only just started and already you want a drink?”

“It’s been a bad day.” Harry responded gloomily.

“All your days are bad Harry. How many bad things are there today?” Ron asked as he leant against the side of his car. Harry counted for a moment.

“Four.”

“Four? Only you could manage so much this early in the day. Come on then let’s have a drink.” Ron said with a sigh. “As long as it’s somewhere with food as well.”

They agreed on the Milton Arms, which was where Harry and Ron had gone two days ago, on the night when he first got back. It was a “family pub” as it was called. Which meant it was open earlier in the day, and had a better selection of food. Although it was a bit of a drive away, especially threw the morning traffic neither of them minded. After about fifteen minutes of slow progress through the city centre Ron turned to Harry.

“You can start with your troubles now if you like. It sounds like we will be at it for a while, if your problems today are anything like your old ones.”

“Well it doesn’t sound bad…” Harry began, as he considered that indeed it hadn’t been entirely unenjoyable, “But this morning I saw Mione naked.”

“Ron snorted at this, before doubling over. It was a good job they were at some traffic lights for They would have had difficulty staying in the right lane.

“It’s serious.” Harry said sternly, causing Ron to stop laughing, though he did continue to smile for a while longer.

“I’m sure it is.” He said as he stared at Harry. “How did it happen? You didn’t go peeping did you?”

“No I did not.” Harry said blushing. Although it was truthful he supposed what he had been doing the night before was nothing less than that.

He proceeded to tell the story to Ron, who found it highly amusing.

“She had been in the shower and everything Ron!” He said with a pained expression. Ron nodded grimly. He knew only to well. “Girls look better wetter.” That was his motto.

“I still don’t see why its much of a problem. I mean you have seen it all before.”

“I know.” Harry said. It was true. He had seen it all before, lots of time… in lots of places. But it wasn’t the same.

“I know Ron but… It’s different. That was a life time ago. I was a different person and it was ok for me to love her back then… I don’t want old feelings coming back again…”

“So that’s what the problem is. Feelings have come back again.” Ron stated, rather than asked. They were still driving, which was good because it made Harry feel less the focus of attention. He needed a few strong drinks before he could talk freely. He didn’t respond to Ron but then went onto the next two problems.

“It’s all your stupid sisters fault.” Harry said grimly. Ron smiled at this remark.

“I have been saying that for years but mum never believes me. Like I would set fire to my own bedroom, why would I want to do that for?”

They arrived at the pub a short while later, which was empty apart from a family and the staff. Most people that wanted to drink at this time of morning went to Smokey little pubs where they could be drunk and profane in peace. Harry quickly managed to drink enough to become thoroughly uncaring, whilst Ron ate a cooked breakfast and slowly drank his first alcoholic beverage of the day. Harry was on his fifth.

“You said there were four problems.” Ron said as he raised a sausage to his mouth. “You have only told me three.” Harry hesitated for a minute. He probably should have said that there were only three problems.

“I can’t tell you about that.” Harry said slowly. His brain hadn’t yet been hit with the full force of what he had drunk, but it had began.

“You can tell me anything.” Said Ron indignantly. “You know that Harry.”

“No, I can’t.” Harry corrected him.

“There are some things about me I could never tell you. I have done things, and seen tings that I could never tell anyone, for they are so dark, so unspeakable. That should I tell those tales then everyone around me would leave.” There was a profound silence that followed this. Ron knew Harry had some secrets, but he never cared to investigate them.

“Forgive me for saying so Harry, but it kind of already happened, only they didn’t leave you, you left them.”

“Well it’s similar not the same Ron. At least if I was the one to leave I had a choice to come back.”

“You still have the choice Harry.” Ron said. “You can stay… Ginny doesn’t have a boyfriend.” Ron suggested, though he knew this wouldn’t convince Harry to stay or even rouse him from his depression. Harry finished off another drink, before giving Ron a stare, and going for another round.

Back in a small Muggle village, was a house, neat in appearance, belonging to a Muggle man which we have already had the pleasure (or displeasure perhaps) of meeting. His name was Granger, Lucas Granger. He sat in his living room at the moment, with a glass of red wine in his hand. The television had been on for the last half hour, though if anyone were to ask him what was playing, he wouldn’t be able to reply. His thoughts were else where today.

He had only found out about Harry’s return to England today. It had been in a small article in the daily prophet. Apparently he had been seen yesterday in Diagon alley. Lucas was not a stupid man and realised what this meant. If Harry Potter was back in England then he sure as hell would have paid a visit to Hermione. If Lucas had found out about Harrys return, purely due to reading over breakfast, then there was no doubt in his mind as to whether the Death Eaters would know.

There weren’t too many of them left these days. With Voldemort dead and Lucius in Azkaban. The one who seemed to be in charage of the rag tag band of murderers at the moment was Bellatrix. Whilst Voldemort would not return yet (though undoubtedly he would), his wishes were still being carried out. Harry’s presence put his daughter into danger at the time, and no doubt still would.

If the Death Eaters met tonight, and they usually did on Tuesdays, then he could report to them on his encounter with Harry Potter, and assure them that he had no interest in Hermione what so ever. It was a strange situation, but one that had been the cause of so much thought and worry. It had caused Hermione so much pain, and yet she did not know it. The whole story had begun some years ago, five to be exact. Back when Harry and Hermione had just been friends, before there love had started, there relationship was already doomed.

Five years ago was when Hermione's mother had died, in her own home. It was a stormy afternoon in Autumn. There hadn’t been many appointments at work that day, and so Lucas said that Michelle, his wife, could go home early.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to stay and help you clear up?” She asked at two o clock.

“No that’s alright.” Lucas replied with a smile. “It shouldn’t take to long anyway. You go home and have a nice rest without having to worry about me.”

So that was what she had done. Lucas always regretted it since, for he felt that perhaps if she had stayed, that everything would be different. That his wife would be alive, and his daughter would be married to the man she had once loved. Michelle had pulled on her coat, and set off from work. It was only a fifteen minute walk home, but by the time she stepped into the front door her clothes had soaked through. She turned on the gas fire before getting out of her wet clothes and slipping into her dressing gown.

It was still early in the day, yet she wasn’t planning on going back out, and she certainly hadn’t been planning on dying. The rain was pounding against the windows, so that even though the living room was warming up nicely she didn’t feel warm. She walked over to the windows and drew the red curtains. Perhaps if she had done so slightly slower she would have seen the shadow at the far end of the garden, of a waiting Death Eater. She sat on the arm chair closet to the fire place, with her legs curled up underneath her, and a crime book in her hand. She enjoyed a good murder as much as the next person, as long as it was on paper.

An hour and a half later she got up from the chair, before pouring herself another mug of hot chocolate and putting the over to heat up. She also got the chocolate biscuits from the kitchen. They were her favourite. As she returned to her book, she had no idea that everything was falling into place, and that the final hour of her life had begun. There were four Death Eaters waiting patiently for her husband to return, so that they may begin their task.

Thirty minutes later Lucas arrived home and put the food in the oven to cook.

“The rain is really picking up out there.” He said as he took off his coat and hung it by the radiator in the hall way. “I should have walked home earlier and made you do the last appointment. You know the woman, old one, what’s her name, Figgs! She never shuts up about her stupid cats, even while I’m trying work.”

Michelle laughed as she placed her book down on the coffee table. The clock showed that it was just gone half past five. Another way of looking at the time, would be the last fifteen minutes of her life.

“Well I offered to stay for a reason.” She said innocently as she got up form the chair. You go get yourself out of those wet clothes and I will lay the table.

“Would you care to neglect the table and assist me?” Lucas asked as he raised an eyebrow suggestively. Michelle rolled her eyes.

“I saw a wonderful necklace in the jewellery shop on the way home though.” She said as she ignored her husband. “I was thinking Hermione might like it. It’s a pity I can’t ask her, She says she is going to come home for Christmas this year though.” She said brightly. “It seems we see her less and less these days.” She didn’t get to carry on though as at that moment there was a loud and hurried knock on the door.

“Who the devil could that be?” Lucas asked who paused half way up the stairs. The knocking didn’t cease, in fact it became more frantic. “Ok I’m coming.” Lucas grumbled as he made his way to the front door to answer what could only be described as rude knocking.

“Can I help you?” Lucas asked as he opened the door to someone dressed in a crimson cloak, who was absolutely soaked through. He was identified as a wizard, due to his attire, and he had wet hair which was clinging to his neck. Lucas had no way of knowing that this was a Death Eater.

“I work for the Ministry of Magic.” He said hurriedly as he held up a badge which with a quick glance could be seen to show the words, “Ministry”, “Auror” and “Employee.” “I was on my way home from work when I was ambushed by three Death Eaters. They are the follower of an Evil dark lord.” He explained, despite the fact the Grangers already knew.

Lucas didn’t say anything, but cast the man a concerned look. He had a cut on his cheek which hadn’t been noticeable upon first appraisal.

“I lost the Death Eaters a short while ago but I was wondering if you have a fireplace I could use to contact my colleges for back up.” He asked as he drew some soggy parchment out of his pocket.

“Certainly, certainly. Will a gas fire place do?” Mr Granger asked.

“As long as it has flames.” Replied the Death Eater with a smile as he followed Lucas into the living room. “Sorry for imposing on you.” He said a minute later as he scribbled down something on the parchment. I wouldn’t have done so unless I feel it necessary. You needn’t worry, I feel we are quite safe.” At that moment however as though to dispute what he had said, there was a knock on the door even more ferocious than the one from a minute ago.

“We know you’re in there Felix, you can’t hide!” Said a taunting voice followed by a cackle of laughter.

Lucas spun round to face the man who was in their house. “Quick, you have to leave.” He said, concerned for his wife’s safety as well as that of the stranger. “Apparate away!” Felix closed his eyes in concentration for a moment before opening them with a grin expression upon his face. “This house has a ward preventing apparition.” Lucas vaguely recalled when Albus Dumbledore had visited and said something about protective spells.

“Is there no other way to leave then?” Lucas asked desperately as the pounding on the doopr became heavier. Pretty soon they would probably knock it right of its hinges. “Cant you go invisible and sneak out?” He asked hopefully.

“No, no no!” Felix replied like a mad man. One, who can see his own death in the near future, often takes on such a frame of thinking. “You must hide me, please!”

Lucas shot a look at his wife, who stood at the far end of the living room, before turning to Felix.

“Very well in here.” He said as he pulled open the under stairs cupboard. It wasn’t the best hiding place in the world by any means, but the pattern on the wall meant that the door blended in some what. No sooner had Felix been pushed into the cupboard than the door unlocked itself, and three men, all rather wet, were revealed.

Lucas jumped away from the door to under the stairs as though he had been burned.

“Er Felix doesn’t live here.” He said as he tried to take on his best air of innocence. He would have been rather convincing, had the people he was lying to not been Death Eaters.

“Fear Not Muggle, We know that he is, and that he is hiding. We have no arguments with you however, so if you show him to us we will leave you in peace so you may return to your dinner.” Said a man, whom we know as Lucius Malfoy.

Lucas took a step back hesitantly as the three intimidating figured robed in black, advanced into the hall way. One of them had the decency to close the door behind him.

“How can I trust you?” he asked them as he stumbled on a pair of shoes. “Even if this Felix were here, how do I know that you would not kill me should I show him to you?”

“Do not worry about that.” Replied the second Death Eater. If we had wanted you and your wife dead then you would be already. Here.” He continued as he handed Lucas three wands.

“Now we are both equal. No magic for either of us. Won’t you please tell us, as this man has committed a great crime against us.”

“But aren’t you criminals yourself?” Michelle asked as she spoke for the first time. She could see the wands in her husbands hand were very real.

“Yes, I’m afraid we are so, but are we not also humans? This man who works at the ministry of magic, He killed our college in his sleep.”

Lucas shifted uneasily as he continued back into the living room. These men seemed honest enough, but the tales that Hermione had told him, came flooding to mind.

“Is that not the sort of thing to be expected though being…criminals and everything.” Lucas ventured as his heart raced in his chest. Although he had the wands it was still three large men against him.

“Yes, we accept that, and should that have been the end of it then we would have no more to say on the matter. No grudge would be held. However what this man did was far worse than that. As he crept into the bedroom, where our friend was sleeping, and killed him, our poor friends wife awoke. She was a simple muggle, and could do no harm, and yet he needlessly killed her aswell. They had a twelve year old son, who thankfully was at school at the time. However, to kill a boys mother, so needlessly, is not something that we “Criminals” can tolerate. Do you understand?”

Lucas stood rooted to the spot, as though his feet were pointed to the floor, before replying softly. “He is in there.” Lucas was not normally a man to hand over one of the good guys to one of the bad guys, but when the good guy, seemed more evil than the bad guys, and his wife was in danger, then he acted accordingly.

The Death Eaters turned to the cupboard under the stairs, where suddenly Felix sprung from, an expression of burning rage upon his face. The Death Eaters were taken back by this sudden appearance, and so were not immediately ready to deal with the situation. Not to mention their wands were still in Lucas’ hand, whilst Felix had his ready to use.

“You filthy traitor.” Felix screamed. “You dirty filthy scum, how could you?” There was a moment of guilt as Lucas considered the fate of this man, but it was removed almost instantly, as Felix jumped forward, opened his mouth and uttered two deadly words which he hadn’t heard until that point.

“Avada Kedavra.”

Lucas turned his head, as though in slow motion, and saw his wife’s eyes widen, before she opened her mouth to say something. The words never escaped her lips, as by that point she was already dead. He body crumbled to the floor, lifeless, like a puppet cut from its strings. In the next instant the three Death Eaters had pounced on Felix, and had him stunned and binded. He was to be killed later.

“My wife…” Lucas managed to mutter in a rasp voice. “Although he had no real way of knowing, he knew she was dead, in the way that only a husband could.”

“I’m afraid there is nothing that can be done for her.” Said the third Death Eater who hadn’t spoken up till that point. He hadn’t been introduced, but looking into his eyes, Lucas knew that it was Voldemort. “And they say that we are the monsters. If only I had been faster, I could have saved her.” Voldemort said in an amazing show of acting as he shook with what seemed to be suppressed rage.

Lucas would have replied, but words escaped him. He was like a man who had learned the true meaning of life. Everything he believed in had come crashing down around him, and now his brain was struggling to keep up with the cataclysmic changes that would follow. Voldemort spoke some more, in soft suggestive tones which Lucas only heard in his subconscious mind.

Voldemort and the other two Death Eaters went to make their leave, with Felix slung over Lucius’ shoulder. It was at this moment, that Lucas said something, which although he didn’t regret, he should have. He gave one more look at his wife, lying dead, on the floor, before uttering so quietly he barely heard himself.

“Let me join you.”

And so that was how it was. Felix was a member of the Death Eaters, who had been wishing to retire, and was granted it on this condition. Lucas knew nothing of this of course. And so twenty four hours later he was initiated as the first ever muggle Death Eater.

“The ministry is corrupt you see.” It had been explained to him. “Everyone simply accepts that it is us that are in the wrong, but they never consider the very foundations of magical society have become rotten, and we are trying to turn about this, to unite the magical world, to form a new Empire. Mainly he was just given jobs to tell all that he knew of Harry, and what he was up to. Hermione did talk about him rather a lot to her parents.

Then one day Voldemort had approached him with a question.

“Your daughter is good friends with Harry Potter isn’t she?” He had asked.

“You know she is, that is how I know what little I do about his goings on, which you value so highly.”

“Mmm indeed.” The dark lord said as he rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “But she is just that isn’t she? She is just his friend?”

“Why?” Lucas asked hesitantly. Although he never looked at the dark lord’s eyes, finding them uncomfortable, they were particularly unpleasant now.

“Well it’s just that if Harry had feelings of…love” He said with traceable amount of disgust. “For her, then perhaps we could execute them to our advantage.”

“In one way.” Lucas asked though gritted teeth. “I don’t see it would make a difference.

“Oh I do.” Voldemort said honestly. “You see friends come and go, they are nice, but they aren’t essential though. Love on the other hand. Its something some people would literally die for, wouldn’t you say.”

“Are you suggesting.” Lucas began before Voldemort suddenly interrupted, without his innocent air about him anymore.”

“What I am saying, Lucas, is that I believe your daughter can be used to our advantage. Given that you help us I have left your daughter for now, but should she ever develop feelings for Harry Potter, and should he reciprocate them, then I’m afraid she would be a little to useful to pass up.”

Lucas glowered at the dark lord for as long as his nerve could hold. He had realised this may one day happen, but thankfully it seemed the dark lord had imposed a limit he did not think himself lucky enough to have. As Long as Harry Potter didn’t love his daughter, she could live.

“Very well.” He stated. He knew what he must do.

“Splendid.” Voldemort replied as he rose form his seat and shook Lucas’ hand. The Dark Lord had very cold pale hands, like that of a corpse.

“I shall be waiting anxiously for the sound of wedding bells. Love is a disease my friend. Only when one truly loves, is he at his weakest. That is when I shall strike Harry Potter down.”

“Will that be all?” Lucas asked stiffly. Harry had sounded quite nice, according to his daughter.

“Yes that will be all for now, except one final bit of advice before you leave, my friend.”

“And what might that be?”

“That you welcome Harry Potter. A father is rather influential, and I don’t want you scaring him away…”

Back in present day Lucas had finished his glass of red wine. He placed the glass down on the coffee table, before turning off the television, which was showing a gardening program. It was a good job Bellatrix was not quiet as sharp on the uptake as their late master.

Approximately two hours later, at half past twelve, Ron was just finishing an early lunch, Whilst Harry sat with his head hung back, in a drunken stupor.

“Wow that must be bad.” He thought to himself as he took a mouthful of a steak and ale pie. “Harry hardly ever gets drunk.” In all their years of friendship he had only ever seen Harry drunk half a dozen times and five of those were when rejoicing. The only other time Ron had seen Harry drunk, and not happy, was after Voldemort’s defeat.

Ron did however suspect Harry had done the whole drunk festering routine in the privacy of his apartment in Sydney, shortly after leaving Hermione.

“Sure I can’t interest you in some food?” Ron asked as Harry stared at him vacantly. “It might sober you up a bit. It’s not good to drink on an empty stomach.”

“What, and risk ruining the temporary bliss?” He asked with only mildly slurred words. “No thanks. All I need right now is a couple of shots, and then everything really will be dandy.”

“Harry if you drink much more you will pass out.” Ron said as he looked at Harry sympathetically.

“Precisely!” He said, before falling forwards and snoring.

“Oh come on then. Lets get you home.” Ron said as he tried to nudge Harry awake to no success. Instead he drew Harry up under one arm, and dragged him out, back to their car.

Harry didn’t awake for some time. He was having rather vivid dreams, though he couldn’t say what it was really about. He remembered colours. There was a perfect greyness, unblemished, and smooth and it made him feel at peace, with himself, and with the world. Then something changed… There were more colours, dirty colours, which disgusted him in his sleep. They eventually faded, and the calm returned, only for the process to begin over and over. He woke up to a crack of thunder outside.

It took him several seconds to make up the time in his mind. He wasn’t where he had been. As he looked round now he recognised that he was in Fred and George’s old room. He had been tucked in bed, and had a damp flannel over his head. It probably contained something more than water, which misses Weasley claimed would cure a hang over. In Harry’s opinion it merely served to give the room a bad smell.

It was dark outside now, which meant it was probably dinner time, or there abouts.

He tried calling, but his throat was dry from some sort of spirit. He glanced around, and after pulling himself up and putting his glasses on he spotted a glass of water that had been put on the bedside table. Misses Weasley was rather thoughtful at times.

He climbed out of bed unsteadily, but after taking a few steps found he was more stable on his feet than he would have thought. Rain pounded against the thin glass of the window, and Harry shuddered despite the warmth of the room. It wasn’t a good night to be outside.

“Oh I see you’re up.” Arthur said from the living room as he finished the crossword he had been doing. He had just returned from work.

“It would seem so.” Harry said as he looked round for Ron.

“Got a bit carried away with the fire whisky did you?” He asked with a smile. “I remember when I was your age…” He began before Harry cut him off.

“Have you seen Ron?” He didn’t need another one of Arthur’s childhood stories.

“Er yes certainly he is in the kitchen.”

Harry walked into the kitchen to find Molly and Ron readying dinner. Molly was cooking it whilst Ron was supervising that none of it burnt. Something she was quite capable of doing without his assistance.

“Good afternoon Harry.” Misses Weasley said as she took some cutlery out of the draw. “How is your head? If it hurts I have something which will clear it right up.” She said. “Still you should know better than to drink too much. Honestly Harry you do know its not good for you.” She said as she mothered him.

He was tempted to have a bit of a shout at her. When his life was how it was (a mess) drinking too much was a far more inclining idea than sitting round sulking. At least beer made sulking fun.

“Ron would you mind going and setting the table?” she asked him as she handed him some cutlery and placemats without waiting for a reply. “Now Harry you know your welcome to stay as long as you like. If there is one thing we have in this house it is space.”

“Yes thank you Molly.” He responded with a small smile. I may take you up on that offer, if it won’t inconvenience you.”

“Oh you know it won’t.” she said as she shook her head. “I’m sure Ron will enjoy it, save him driving round in that death trap of a car. Also it will give Ginny someone to talk to. Dinner is just about ready so if you would like to go and sit down I will bring everything through.”

Harry offered to help her, but she was rather adamant that she could manage on her own. Harry personally suspected she was afraid he was still a little drunk, and would drop something. He took a seat one side of the table. Ginny say next to him, whilst Arthur and Molly sat at opposite ends and Ron sat opposite Harry. There was an empty place set next to Ron as though they were expecting another visitor. This wasn’t actually the case but Molly’s cooking was so liked that old members of the order often found themselves stopping by.

Dinner was as delicious as ever, though at times things did seem a little awkward. They tried to discuss things besides the wedding, as Ron seemed to have mentioned something along the lines of Harry not particularly liking Hermione’s fiancé. This was fully understandable, given his sudden departure. She was as tactful as possible, yet it was unavoidable that at some point the subject of the wedding would come up.

“How long are you planning on staying?” Ginny asked.

“Er, about a week.” He responded, not wanting to state that in a weeks time the wedding would be over, and he could get back on with his life.

After dinner Harry helped clean and dry the dishes, despite Molly’s protests that she could do fine with magic. Harry had several long years of experience cleaning up after the Dursely’s, so he could give any charm a run for its money.

“What would you like for desert?” Arthur asked as him and Ron surveyed various objects of cakey goodness.”

“Mmm if you don’t mind I don’t think I will have anything at the moment. Im a bit full up at the moment.”

“Suit yourself.” Ron said as he cut a large cake in half and put one piece on his plate before offering the remaining half to his father, who after glancing down at his t shirt which was a little tight in the middle, gave a sad shake of his head and cut a smaller piece.

“I might just go for a spot of fresh air, I’m feeling a little dizzy.” He said as he glanced out of the window. The rain was pouring down.

“In this weather?” Asked Molly in disbelief. “You should do not such thing; you will catch a death of cold!” She said warningly.

“Don’t worry.” He replied with a false smile. “I’m not going to go dancing in it or anything. I will take an umbrella. It’s just for a few minutes.” And with that he walked out of the dining room, and out of the front door, where he pulled on his jacket, and stepped into the pouring rain without the umbrella. He would get soaked, but he really didn’t care.”

Harry strode along the London streets, each one a mosaic of bubblegum bits of rubbish and squashed chips. Even the torrent of rain that came down upon them couldn’t clean those streets. He didn’t mind though. He knew where he was going, though he hadn’t walked it before. Although it was a half hour walk it took him forty five minutes because he got lost a few times.

Within five minutes his clothes were completely soaked through, and his trousers hung uncomfortably, rubbing and making his legs soar. This however was if anything a good thing, for e found the greater his physical agitation the less he thought about his mental state. His jacket wasn’t good for the rain either. His leather jacket was back in the room at the leaky cauldron he had booked, and so he only had the one from earlier which was more of a thick jumper, and simply served to absorb the rain like a large sponge.

“Could you check Harry is alright?” Molly asked several minutes after he had left. Ron got up from where he had been watching the start of a James Bond film. He didn’t know which one it was, though it had just involved lots of Russians getting killed in a car chase. He suspected it was one of the ones with an evil villain. He opened the front door, and peered round the front garden, before coming to the correct conclusion, that Harry had indeed made a run for it.

“Oh bum… Mum is going to blame me.” He said as he rolled his eyes before heading back in to report the news.

“Harry’s gone.” He said as his mother looked up at him expectantly.

“What do you mean?” She asked, despite being able to read on the clock on the wall that Harry was “Travelling.”

“I dunno, maybe he went to pick up his luggage. I expect that is what it is.”

Ron knew in reality where Harry would probably be heading, and he also knew Harry wouldn’t be apparating, but there was no need to worry his mother.

“Oh don’t worry Molly, Harry is a big boy, I’m sure he will be back later. No real man would miss the end of Golden Eye” Arthur said as he sat down on the sofa to enjoy the next two hours of quality man time.

Harry’s walk was coming to an end. He was in a suburban part of London, and he was just coming down a street where there was a house, with a white car in the drive, and a woman named Hermione inside. He couldn’t reason with himself why he was coming here now, after dinner time in the rain, other than the fact it seemed to have worked quite well two days ago. That and the fact he had a feeling, even if Adam would be there now…

He would be inside, with Hermione, probably talking to her, holding her, and touching her, with his foul impure hands of his, that weren’t good enough on the basis that they didn’t belong to Harry. Jealousy was probably the most powerful of forces in the world. It could drive a man insane and make things appear out of thin air. A jealous man can convince himself that his wife is having an affair, and then kill her for it. Harry wasn’t sure how far his jealousy would take him, for he still had rationality, yet he knew there was more than one Othello in the world.

He came to the point of the street where Hermione’s house was, though he didn’t come any closer. He looked carefully at it. He could see from the ripple effect glass of the front door that the living room light was on, and that also that her bedroom light was on. The rest of the house was dark however. Harry watched curiously for a minute, as he battled with himself. What was he doing here? What would he say to her? He really had no idea.

Didn’t Hermione deserve to be happy? If she was happy with Adam then wasn’t that enough? He wondered about what love really was. They said that when you loved someone they were the most important person in the world. You would put them before you, die for them, and do anything they wanted. He knew there was a time when he put Hermione's feelings over his own, and perhaps he still did, but if that was the case then what was he doing now?

He was risking Hermione’s feelings for his own. Was it not enough that she was happy? What right did he have to ask for anything more. Why should he ask for so much, was it human nature to never be satisfied and always want more. Was it also part of human nature to love yourself, That was the only reason why he could think he cared so much. Since when had love been so damn selfish?

Things just weren’t clear anymore…

He walked over to the opposite side of the road, away from Hermione's house, where there was a street sign. It was the kind that is about three foot high, and made from either stone, or if newer, a kind of black plastic. He his as he tried to make sense of the storm in his mind, whilst not noticing the one all around him.

Roars of thunder were going through the sky, followed by flashes of lightning that illuminated the whole sky for a fraction of a second. It was like god was taking a photograph, so he had record off just how low a human could sink.

Inside the house Hermione was in her bedroom. She had just got changed into her pyjamas, for they were much more comfortable than her work clothes. She pulled her dressing gown around her for it was a little chilly outside. Not that she wanted to look. She was afraid of lightning. Hopefully all the rain would come down before the wedding, she thought to herself. Nothing like rain to ruin a wedding.

She began brushing her hair, as she sung softly to herself. She couldn’t say what song it was, but it was just a tune she remembered from when she used to do her homework in the school library.

A particularly loud roll of thunder crashed from overhead causing the windows to shake slightly, and for Hermione to jump up in the air.

A bolt of lightning struck outside. She happened to be looking as it came down in the middle of the road. It couldn’t have been more than ten meters from the house. The strange thing was though, something which scared her maybe more than the lightning and the thunder that followed was what she was.

She swore she saw a figure sitting out in the rain across the road. As the lightning struck, he didn’t move at all, he just sat there, completely still with the rain pouring down. Perhaps he was dead?” She thought to herself. After all what kind of person wouldn’t run and hide when a bolt of lightning strikes?

In the end she managed to convince herself that she was imaging it. There wouldn’t be someone sitting outside in the rain. They would have to be mad. As she shook the thought away she turned the bedroom light off and walked back down to the living room. The house was quiet inside, with the weather being the only distraction. She drew all the curtains closed before turning on the TV. The signal was out, so she put a film on.

Harry sat on the street sign, so lost in his own thoughts that he wasn’t thinking any more at all, just sitting like a lifeless puppet. He cast his eyes upward briefly, where he could see the silhouette of Hermione against the window, through the net curtains. She was no doubt going for an early night with him… a bolt of lightning shot down from the clouds, just over a meter away from Harry. He didn’t move, but merely noticed that there was a small black scorch mark on the tarmac.

Lightning never strikes the same place twice, or so they say. He looked down to his feet, where he couldn’t see any sort of scorch marks.

“Well I have chosen a good place then.” He said to himself, though he could hardly hear his voice over the rain.

“Come on Lightning, do your worst.” He said as he raised his fist in challenge against the heavens.

If he was lucky perhaps the lightning would kill him.

Hermione sat with the lights turned off, curled up under a blanket watching a horror movie. She should have known better than to choose one, for given the dark weather outside it increased the effect of the film several times over. At least when she was on her own she could be scared and not ashamed of it.

She has seen the film several times, so she knew how it went.

“Don’t open the door.” She pleaded with the character, who would shortly get hacked down by the man with the axe outside. The murdered knocked on the door, and after the young woman inside failed to answer he raised his axe above his head. He bought it down splintering against the door, at the exact moment her front door shook heavily as someone banged on it with their fist.

She jumped out of her chair as this happened, before hiding her head under he blanket. “He might think I’m out!” she thought briefly, before she regained her senses a little. This was real life. There was no murderer after her. It was just a visitor, late at night, in a pouring thunderstorm, when she was all alone. She lowered the blanket before summoning her courage, and proceeding to the front door.

She hesitated as she stood with her fingertips on the door handle, the sinister figure outside distorted by the ripple glass. With a final summoning of her courage she pulled open the door. With her arm raised ready.

“Do you believe in Déjà vu?” Harry asked with a raised eyebrow before his eyes drifted up to the knife Hermione had poised above his head. She slumped back against the wall and held a hand to her heart.

“Are you trying to kill me?” She asked as she tried to regain her composure

“I could ask the same?” He said, as he remained standing in the rain.

“I thought… you were a murderer.” She replied before pulling him into the house, having a quick glance round the street, and double locking the door as well as putting the chain on.

“What are you doing here anyway?” She asked him with a hint of anger.

“I thought you might fancy going for a sandwich.” He lied. The simple reason, if there was one, was that he needed to see her.

“You walked all the way here… in the rain, to ask if I wanted a sandwich?” She asked with notable amounts of disbelief in her voice.

“I really want one Mione…” He said, in a tone that implied it was an illness.

“What were you saying about Déjà vu?” Hermione asked as she walked into the living room in turned the film off.

“I was just saying that the whole thing was kind of similar to when I arrived. You know I turn up in the middle of the rain, unannounced. The only difference was this time…”

“I’m not wearing a wedding dress and I was wielding a knife?” Hermione asked with a laugh.

“Actually I was going to say but this time Adam is here.” He said with a pained smile as he peered round for the mystery man. Hermione fell silent for a moment before awkwardly replying.

“Actually, he isn’t here. With the storm and they have had to cancel flights, he wont be back for another two days at least, though he assures me he wont miss the wedding!” Hermione said with a small laugh.

“So you’re all alone?” Harry asked. Was this stroke of luck more than just that? Perhaps it was a gift or something, these rare moments that meant nothing to her, yet meant the world to him Perhaps it was divine intervention which had kept Adam from returning to his fiancé, or perhaps Harry was reading into it to much. He liked the first idea, but suspected the last.

“Yeah, I was just watching a movie before you turned up. It was a horror one which is why I was a bit edgy.” As she said this there was a loud crack of thunder outside and Hermione jumped as though someone had shot at her.

“You wonder why you’re jumpy.” Harry said as he rolled his eyes. “You are sitting in the house alone, watching a horror movie with all the lights turned off. Fancy a coffee?”

“When did I say you could stay?” Hermione asked indignantly.

“Well firstly Hermione you did pull me in and lock the door after me, and secondly I know you well enough that you don’t like to be alone during a storm.” It was a small fact that Harry had remembered from a long time ago.

“Yeah, I guess your right. I suppose you can stay, as long as you keep to yourself.” She said, despite her better judgement.

Harry went into the kitchen where he knocked up two mugs of coffee which he bought into the living room and placed down on the coffee table.

“I thought you really wanted a sandwich?” She asked accusingly, knowing there was plenty of bread in the kitchen.

“Oh well turns out I wasn’t so much hungry as bored. Now are you gonna tell me what the film is about or am I going to have to guess” He asked as he slumped down on the sofa next to her, and hit the play button on the remote.

She didn’t tell Harry what was going on in the film, but he didn’t really need to know. It was like most teen horror films. Bad guy has a big blade, kills lots of people, primarily shrieking girls, gets shot, and comes back to life in equally poor sequel. It wasn’t exactly The Godfather but Harry was happy enough to watch it with Hermione if it’s what she wanted. When the film finished they talked for a while, until a large bolt of lightning shot down not far from the hose, and the lights flicked off.

Harry was now sitting in total darkness.

“Well this looks fun.” He said brightly.

“It’s not funny Harry. It’s scary.” Hermione said grumpily as she pawed around for her wand. “Oh my god my shin.” She cursed as she whacked into the coffee table. “I can’t remember where I put it…” She cursed.

“Put what?” Harry asked slyly as he gave his wrist a flick and the wand in his hand gave off a soft light which revealed the room and Hermione.

“You pig, you could have told me you had a wand. Now my legs going to be all bruised in the morning. You wonder why I left you.” She joked.

“Why did you leave me?” Harry asked seriously as he remained sitting in the armchair.

“You may have forgotten Harry, but it was you who left, I didn’t go anywhere.”

“mmm perhaps. Personally I viewed it as a case of constructive dismissal; in much the same way as a boss can make your job so difficult you have to leave. It isn’t their fault they had to leave.

“Well if that’s what you want to tell yourself Harry.” Hermione said as she gave up looking for her wand and slumped down into an old armchair opposite him.

“Well you could tell me differently if it pleases you.”

“Harry, you know it wouldn’t please me to go talking about that stuff. Why do you ask anyway? You were there and you know it as well as I do. The only thing you will get from dredging up the past is depressed. I’m getting married remember.” She said with a small smile.

“Yes, I think I remember hearing something about that.” Harry remarked, causing Hermione to tut. “But that doesn’t stop you talking to me does it?”

“No but would you feel comfortable knowing your girlfriend was talking to an old boyfriend about why they split up?”

“I don’t have a girlfriend.” Harry said as he took a sip of his coffee, which he personally thought was rather poor compared to that which he made.

“You know what I meant.”

“Yes, but Adam doesn’t have to know. I’m just curious, so I don’t make the same mistake in the future. I invested a lot emotionally, and I don’t want to see it go to waste again.” He lied. “I wondered what I did wrong.” He asked.

“It’s not something you did wrong Harry.” Hermione sighed. “It’s just that you were you, and you still are. The only way you could not have the same situation would be to not be yourself, which isn’t something anyone can really do.

“You mean I'm someone no one could ever be?” Harry asked, knowing it wasn’t what she meant, but being hurt none the less by her words.

“No…I just mean Harry you always saw things differently from me. I’m not saying you saw things the wrong way, just differently from me.”

“If it’s different from you then it must be wrong.” Harry laughed, though he didn’t find it funny.

“No. You always looked at things differently from Harry. I always saw things as what I had to do, and what I wanted. Sometimes they were the same, but other times they weren’t. It’s not like I wanted to work such long hours, but I needed to.

“You however Harry, didn’t see it like that. You always saw things simply by values. You might not have to work such long hours, and I know you could afford not to work at all if you wanted to, but other people aren’t the same. Just because I had work, or went out to lunch with a friend doesn’t mean I would rather be doing that than being with you.

Harry didn’t say anything in reply to this. There wasn’t anything he could say. He knew this was how Hermione had viewed things but she was wrong. It wasn’t stuff she had to do, it was simply stuff she chose to do. She never had to work, they had enough money to comfortably live, and she didn’t have to go to lunch with a friend. She might say she did but she was either lying or mistaken. The fact she didn’t see things his way showed that she just didn’t put much thought into the situation.

How could anyone think any way other than him? It was simply logic, was it not?

“Mmmm if you say so.” He eventually said, though several minutes had gone by, and it wasn’t really an answer to what she said, so much as a break in the silence.

“See Harry, I told you it would do no good. You don’t feel any differently from how you did then, and it was a shame but I could live with that. I told you there was no point in bringing it up.”

“Well you see Hermione I always had something slightly strange, and I don’t know if you ever found this.” Harry asked as he paused hesitantly wondering whether or not to continue. “You see you always said that you loved me, and though I believed it when you said it, it didn’t feel like it. I mean the logic part of my brain knew that you were telling the truth, but yet I still hurt when you missed my dinner for work, and my heart couldn’t help but feel you were lying.” He confessed.

“I know Harry.” Hermione said sympathetically. “And I don’t blame you. I’m sure you will find someone who will suit you fine one of these days.” She said kindly, if not a little patronisingly.

“Mmm maybe.” He responded. “Now anyway, tell me about this wedding, what sort of food are you going to have there?”

“Honestly!” Hermione said rolling her eyes as she stood up from the chair with the empty coffee cup in her hand. “Ron asked me that just last week. I swear all you men think about is food.”

“Its not all we think about.” Harry muttered as Hermione walked out of the room and towards the kitchen.

“And stop watching me walk.” She called over her shoulder, causing him to blush. Harry rose from his seat and followed her into the kitchen, which was still rather well lit as unlike the living room the window was not covered with a thick velvet curtain, and a good amount of moonlight still shone in illuminating the room.

There was a loud clap of thunder from outside, to confirm that the storm was still on.

“That’s strange.” Hermione said as she peered out of the window. It seems that the neighbours still have the lights on. I guess it wasn’t just a power cut after all. It must have blown our fuse by the looks of it.” She sighed.

“Oh, alright then where is the fuse box?” Harry volunteered as he looked round the kitchen, expecting to see it on one of the walls.

“Is it under the stairs?” He asked after not spotting it.

“No it’s down in the basement.” Hermione said with a grimace. “And its cluttered like no bodies business, so I don’t want you going down there in the dark.

“What it’s so cluttered I can’t squeeze my way through?” He asked with a raised eyebrow.

“No it’s not that, it’s just that I don’t want you messing it up…” She replied before catching the look on his face. “It’s an organised mess!” She exclaimed, effectively closing the topic.

“Still I was planning on going to bed soon anyway.” She said as she finally found her wand sitting by the edge of the sink. She light it up, so along with Harry’s they had a reasonable amount of light between them.

“Mind if I join you?”

“Yeah I do mind, that’s what the sofa is for.” Hermione laughed. “You and your wondering hands!”

“But its uncomfy, it threw my back out!” He protested.

“Well you don’t have to sleep on it. You have the floor, the street or of course Ron’s house, I know you have been invited to stay there.”

Harry didn’t have a response to this.

“Ok then at least stay up a little longer won’t you, have a drink with me. I don’t sleep well when I'm dry.”

You’re quite the little alcoholic aren’t you Harry Potter.” Hermione teezed. “I guess I don’t need to be in work to early tomorrow, I could always do a late shift instead… Ok then only a small drink mind, I don’t intend to be hung-over.” She cautioned as she reached up into the cupboard to get two glasses out before turning round to find Harry pulling out a large bottle of Jack Daniels from an inside coat pocket.

“Always comes in handy, for celebrations and such.” He said awkwardly as he rubbed the back of his head.

“Mmm I'm sure.” Hermione responded as they made their way back into the living room.

He took two glasses, and filled them up each halfway.

“So let’s get started on what you have been up to since I was last in England.” He asked as he sat in front of the sofa, on the floor, as opposed to on it.

“Well Harry that’s a long story, you sure you want to hear it?” She asked, as she took a sip of what she had been given. She wasn’t really a strong alcohol, though neither was Harry last time… She didn’t expect she would drink it all, but as she began talking, she drunk some more, and settled down into a comfortable quietness, with the only sound being her recounting what had happened in her life, in great detail.

Harry never commented, as she spoke for nearly an hour. Every time she looked up she expected him to be asleep, yet he wasn’t. He was always just sitting there, staring at her, listening, savouring every minute. He had finished his drink more than once during the time she was talking, yet his concentration didn’t seem to waver.

It was only after Hermione had finished talking that she had chance to reflect on how different Harry seemed. She had obviously noted changed in him, both his physical appearance and his personality, but he used to be a lot more talkative. Normally he had dominated the conversations, but now he did no such thing. He had sat in silence for an hour, until she talked herself into silence.

“What about you then Harry?” She asked finally.

“He looked up in surprise at this question.”

“Sorry what?” He asked, distracted from his reverie.

“Well I told you what I had been up to, what about you. You must have done some interesting stuff in the last three years.”

“No, nothing exceotional.” He said, as he took a large gulp from his third glass of Jack Daniels. “There is nothing to tell.”

“Nothing?” Hermione asked in disbelief. “Harry Potter, the most action packed life there is, and yet your saying that there is nothing happened?”

“No, I didn’t say nothing happened, I said there was nothing to tell. They are quite different.”

Hermione suddenly felt like she had said to much. She had told him all about her job, her friends, her plans for the future, and even a reasonable amount about Adam, yet he had, within the space of thirty seconds said to her that he had nothing to share, nothing to say. She was left feeling as isolated from him as she had done before. Why was he still so cagey with her. Obviously three years hadn’t bee enough. She supposed he was angry with her, and yet she knew well enough that more than that, he also hated himself.

“Ok the Harry, if you haven’t had anything to tell about, them what do you plan to do in the future, when you go back to Sydney? You are going back aren’t you?”

“My house is in Sydney.” Was his only response, which implied an answer, without giving one.

“Ok then what are your plans?”

“I prefer not to make plans. They pressurise us to do things, to be somewhere. If we make plans and achieve them, then they seldom turn out to be as we had hoped, and if we don’t achieve them we feel bad because of it, as though we have somehow failed.”

“Why should we do this? I prefer to simply live. After so many didn’t it’s a fact I try to savour.” Hermione didn’t know how to respond to this pessimistic attitude.

“You drunk enough?” Hermione asked as Harry poured himself some more.

“Well I figured I might as well finish the bottle. It isn’t a very social activity to drink on ones own, and I don’t know when I will next have company.”

“Novel way of thinking.” Hermione said, as she finished the first glass, yet held onto it, so Harry couldn’t offer her more. Regardless of the fact she didn’t have work early tomorrow she still didn’t want to drink excessively.

“So now, can I head to bed yet? It is late, and with all this darkness I'm surprised I haven’t nodded off yet.”

“Mmm I suppose so.” Harry responded, not thinking of any other reason to keep her up. He rose to his feet, more steadily than he thought he would.

“Oh well, I will just go get you the blankets then.” Hermione said as she gained her balance, before taking her wand which was lighting the room, and walking towards the doorway.

“I came for you.” He spoke, breaking the silence. Hermione's heart tightened, as though it had been clasped by an icy hand. She slowly turned to face him, pityingly.

“Harry…”

“No, I’m not drunk” He replied, predicting what she would say. “All the drink does is give me the bravery to say what I want to say. I came because I needed to resolve the situation. I can’t keep living without having resolution.

“That was your choice Harry.”

“Perhaps, but I'm choosing now, I want to resolve things once and for all.”

“Please don’t start Harry. You won’t gain anything; you will only regret it in the morning.”

“I’m used to regret.” He said, disregarding her warning. “I need to know. I spent three years waiting, though I don’t know for what. All I know is that it involves you. You know how I feel…That never changed; I still feel about you, feel the same as I did back then… I still love you Hermione.”

“You don’t love me Harry.” Hermione said with a sigh. “You love an ideal.”

“Don’t tell me about me, I am me!” He spoke back to her as he raised his voice. He took a step towards her, though she took a step back, almost afraid of what he would do, if not say.

“Well what do you expect Harry, You come here a week before I'm to get married, hoping for what, to stop me getting married?” She asked as she began to raise her own voice. How could Harry be so inconsiderate, he had no right to say these things.

“I expect nothing. I hope for resolution, as I said, but I expect nothing. All I know is how I feel and that I need resolution. You loved me once, and I left. I never spoke to you about it, and I regretted it. I would regret if I never told you how I felt.

“I’m getting married Harry, MARRIED! I don’t know if that means anything to you, but it means I moved on. I have a life…”

“And? I had a life once, and I want it back. You know what I think Hermione, you know what the worst thought was all these years. At first I thought it wasn’t the case but after two years I came to realise I still loved you. I realised, that its not something you ever start to forget. It‘s not something you loose. I think that when people love each other as much as we did, or as much as I did, it never fades. They may move on, but there heart will always feel for the person they used to love.”

“I think you love me Hermione…”

“You do?” Hermione asked angrily.

“Yes, I think you do.”

“I don’t.” She said firmly. How could I after you left, and never spoke to me. Your wrong Harry, love doesn’t last forever.

“No, I'm not wrong Hermione.” He said, almost in fear. “It has been my only thought for three years, don’t tell me I'm wrong. I know you still love me!”

“You’re being irrational Harry. How could you make such claims?”

“Because I know you, and I know what I need to hear.”

“What do you want of me then Harry? You come here and confess your love for me, and demand I feel the same. Is that what you expected in your head, that I would fall into your arms and we would live happily ever after?” She cried

“What do you want? Do you want me to love you?”

“NO!” He roared, before his voice fell to a hoarse whisper. “I want you to hate me.”

A long silence fell between them as she tried to understand this.

“What?” She finally asked.

“I want you to hate me! Because love isn’t enough. Not for me. Even if you loved me you could never give me what I want. If you told me you hated me, if I knew that was how you felt, then I could go, I could get on with my life, knowing, that I don’t stand a chance.”

“If I knew, that you hated me, I could stop teasing myself. I think I could be happy, maybe for the first time since I fell in love with you.” He said, barely audible over the ticking of a clock on the wall, as his voice had gone from the shouting and the emotions.

“Harry…You’re sick.” Hermione said as a tear rolled down his cheek. “This obsessive need of yours, it’s not right. You know I don’t hate you, I don’t think I ever could. I can’t give you what you want…”

“I know…”

“You wasted so much of your love. You say you love me, and yet you want me to hate you. The only happiness you can find, is when you’re hated by the one person who means the most to you. It’s not right…

“I know…”

“I think you need to sleep. I will go and get blankets, and in the morning we can talk. I don’t know if I can help Harry, but I really do hope you find peace…Tomorrow I will go to work, and when I come back I don’t want you to be here…” She said, with each word hurting her as much as it did him. She knew how he felt, but to see someone she had loved, and did love, in such a state. It was like loosing them.

“I think you’re probably right.” He said after a minute, you go get the blankets…I will feel much better after a good sleep.”

Hermione didn’t believe him entirely, yet she couldn’t stand there any longer, she turned and walked into the hallway before breaking into a run up the stairs and into her bedroom where she slammed the door and fell to her knees in an uncontrollable sobbing which shook her whole body.

Harry stood rooted for a spot, before slowly walking out of the room after her, except rather than head up the stairs he walked into the kitchen. He opened one of the drawers and took out a large black handled bread knife. He pressed the cold blade against his wrist, his hand shaking in fear. It scratched his skin, as his grip tightened, before he let it drop to the floor. He was too weak even to claim his peace.

“Harry, I have the blankets… Harry, the blankets.” Hermione said as Harry didn’t seem aware of her presence in the kitchen door way. He slid the knife under the table with his foot as he turned around.

“Thank you.” He said, looking beyond her, as though there was something more than just her in his presence.

“Hopefully in the morning your mind will be a little clearer. You don’t need to mention anything though because it will probably just make you feel awkward.”

“Undoubtedly. I shall mention it none the less as I am no closer to what I had hoped to achieve.”

“You never will be.” Hermione said as she put the blankets in his arms and gestured him towards the living room.

“Perhaps, but I can still hope.”

“Even if it is hopeless?”

“Blind hope is still hope.” He said with a thin smile, though the tone of his voice didn’t match.

“If it pleases you. As long as you still know where I stand. Its not changing.”

Harry didn’t reply to this, he had thought for so long about what he wanted to say to her, what he wanted to tell her, that he never considered what would happen after that. He never really considered what she would say either. He threw the pillow against one end of the sofa, before turning to Hermione. He must look pathetic, he thought.

“I’m sorry…” Harry tried. Not sorry he said it, for he would do it again, but sorry that it seemed to hurt her the way it did.

“I know you are Harry… I know you are.” She said with a smile as she left the room, closing the door behind her, and heading off to bed.

Harry didn’t get ready for bed straightaway; instead he sat on the sofa, letting the moonlight wash over him, its tranquil warmth, calming the maelstrom inside. He had come and said what he needed to. He had told Hermione how he felt, and was that not all he had come here to do? He never hoped for more, though he supposed now he did. Love or hate, it didn’t seem he was going to get it. Instead he would simply get a friendship, which although once was so desirable, was now by comparison a hollow excuse for what he once had.

He could stay until morning, but what would be the point. If he were to resign himself to Hermione’s verdict now, then he would simply be tormenting himself by staying. She had told him what she thought, and he believed her. He could look into her eyes and see when she was lying, and she wasn’t. The way she felt about him, or didn’t feel was real, and that was something he couldn’t change.

He simply hoped now knowing, that he could go back home, and get on with his life, whatever that meant.

He sat a moment longer, running over these thoughts, doubting them, and them discarding his doubts. What was so great about Hermione anyway? What was it that made her so much more important to him than everyone else? Obviously it was because he loved her, but was the concept of love not flawed? If someone could fall out of it, and if it could cause so much pain, then why would anyone want to be in love to begin with?

Was love something even worth desiring? Perhaps it wasn’t love at all, that he felt with Hermione, but a sick obsession. Perhaps love wasn’t so complicated after all. Maybe it was something he could find with someone else, even choose to have.

It was worth a shot wasn’t it?

He got up from the sofa, leaving the blanket folded as it had been before. He pulled on his jacket, which was still wet from the torrential weather earlier on that night. A quick glance out the window told him that the rain had now passed, and though it was wet outside, there were clear skies. Good for walking in, one should say.

He opened the front door, and left silently, leaving Hermione in her room, also thinking about what had just transpired. Though his clothes had dried since earlier, his shoes were still wet. With every step he took there was a small squelch, which whilst proving to be a mild annoyance, was also something to try and think about besides what he would do next in his life.

The streets were nearly deserted, with only the occasional car driving past. Even though it was the outskirts of London it seemed the heavy rain earlier had driven everyone else inside. Eventually after a long period of walking he came to a house he recognised, the Burrow. By now the moon was high over head and the stars were out. What a fitting night it would be, if he were to leave now.

He pulled out his keys, before letting himself in. The house seemed silent, other than the occasional creak as the building swayed in the wind. He glanced at his watch, which in the darkness he could just make out to be showing that it was just shy of four in the morning. He slipped off his shoes, and jacket and made his way silently up the stairs. He paused briefly, looking at his room at the end of the corridor, before turning and opening the door to his right.

The room he stepped into was decorated in creams and mauves. The curtains were left open, allowing the moonlight in, leaving patterns on the carpet as it seeped in through the net curtains.

“What time is it Harry?” Ginny asked as she pulled herself up in her bed and rubbed her eyes.

“A little before four.” He said, as though this was acceptable. “I have been thinking Ginny. I have done a lot of thinking today, and you know, after all of it…” He said as he knelt down beside her, and gently planted a kiss upon her lips. “I think it’s you I love.”

“You think?” She asked, mildly amused at how serious he seemed. Rather than a confession of love it sounded like he was giving her the death sentence.

“Yes, all this time I was so obsessed I never realised what I had, or could have had.” Ginny stared deeply into his eyes, as he stared back at her, waiting for an answer.

“I’m yours if you want me.” She responded after a moment. “I always have been.”

Harry smiled at her, before kicking off his shoes, at sliding up into her bed. They lay kissing for several moments. It started off at first, tender and cautious, but as lust took over they increased in pace and ferocity, an ecstasy of fumbling. Harry rolled on top of her, his knees pinning her down on either side as she reached up and slipped his jacket off his shoulders, before throwing it down onto the floor.

“Are you sure?” Ginny asked him. She knew any self restraint he had was wavering, not to mention if he did stop later it would be frustrating in more than one way.

“Shh.” Was his only response, as he planted another kiss upon her. He let himself fall forwards, his chest pressed against hers, yet still separated by the clothes they wore. He reached down and placed his hand upon her side where her negligee had ridden up. He ran his hands over her lower back as she arched to his touch.

“Material…” He complained as he tried to pull it up.

“Not yet Harry.” She said back teasingly. “You’re still fully clothed and yet this is all I have.”

“And?” He asked impatiently.

“And I know once I’ naked you don’t have enough of your higher brain functions to take your clothes off. Now come on Harry, strip!” He was only too happy to oblige as he pulled off his silk shirt, revealing his well-formed muscles and lean figure. As the moonlight washed in through the window it cast a glow upon his skin.

“Have you been working out Harry?” Ginny asked remembering how he looked when she last saw him. Previously he had been very lean, and so whilst not muscular he had certainly not been unfit.

“There wasn’t much else to do.” He responded as he held her tight, staring into her eyes. He started kissing at the base of her neck, his hot breath upon her eliciting goose bumps. He carried on doing this for a few minutes until Ginny grew impatient and pushed him off her for a moment. She sat up in bed, and slipped off her negligee, leaving her entirely naked underneath him.

“Mmmm sex.” Harry growled, as he gave her a suggestive glance, before moving down her body and taking one of her nipples in his mouth.

“I thought you would never ask.” Ginny said, as she cast a silencing spell over the room, and surrendered to their mutual needs.

Some time later Harry lay in bed, running his fingers through her hair, which was soft and deep red, contrasting against the white pillow. They remained in silence for several minutes, neither of them saying anything, not through awkwardness, but because they could be themselves around each other.

“I Love you.” Harry said softly, as he planet a kiss upon her lips.

“Do you?” she asked. He stiffened up at this, as the mood instantly darkened.

“What do you mean? I wouldn’t say it is I didn’t believe it.” He said, angry that she would doubt him.

“I didn’t say you didn’t believe it, but I know you don’t feel it.”

“But I do…” He argued

“You don’t Harry.” Ginny said as she drew the covers tighter around herself. “I know you might want to, and you might care for me as a friend but you don’t love me, not like you love her”

“I thought I loved her but I don’t. I want to be with you Ginny.”

“If it was me you wanted to be with then why did you wait so long? I have been here the whole time Harry. If you had ever loved me you could have just told me, like you did tonight, except you would mean it. But when you disappear for years, and only come back when you find out that the woman you love is getting married, then I can’t draw any other conclusions.” Ginny said as a tear rolled down her cheek.

Harry stayed silent for a moment, not knowing what to say. In truth he didn’t know how he felt, yet Ginny seemed sure, and he supposed she was right. If it was her then why hadn’t he come back sooner? Can you love someone and not even know it?

“If you really love her Harry, and I know you do, then you need to face that.”

“I’m sorry Ginny…” Harry said feebly as he reached down to pick up his t-shirt.

“Sorry for what? For this? That never used to bother you, and it doesn’t bother me.” Ginny explained.

“No, I mean im sorry for being confused. I shouldn’t have told you that, it was wrong of me, and it gave you false pretences.”

“I didn’t believe you when you first walked in.” Ginny said, a small smile gracing her face. “I wish it were true but I knew you didn’t mean it.”

“Then why would you still…you know?” Harry asked offended that she would go along with a lie.

“Because I wanted you to see it Harry. Because it was all I could do for you.” She said. He paused to contemplate the guilt he felt, for being weak, and for using her like that.

“I don’t deserve a friend like you.” He said, as he pulled on his trousers.

“No, you don’t.” Ginny said with a laugh. “But you do deserve to get on with your life, so stop torturing yourself and get some closure.”

“I told her how I feel.” Harry confided as he stood up and slipped his shoes on.

“She wasn’t interested.”

“I’m sorry Harry, what did she say.”

“Everything that was needed. I expected it really…”

“Well at least you know Harry, at least you can move on now that you have told her the truth.”

“As much as I dare tell.” Harry said as he finally pulled on his jacket, playfully ruffled Ginny’s hair and walked out of the room, leaving her wandering as to what he meant.

Harry made his way out of Ginny’s house, and down the street, hailing down a taxi at the earliest possible point, which given the time of night, was a bit of a wait.

“Where do you want to go?” Asked the taxi driver, I slightly plump, balding man, who looked like he had been in the job far to long, but then don’t all taxi drivers have that look?

“The airport…” Harry simply replied, as he slid into the back seat, not wanting to appear overly social. He was getting a headache, and the effects of the alcohol he had consumed earlier at Hermione's were now starting to have an effect.

“Which one?” The driver asked as he glanced in his rear view mirror, having a look at Harry, who didn’t bring his luggage with him. He couldn’t be bothered with it, after all, buying new clothes would be something to occupy his time with, when he got back home, to Sydney

“You don’t know which one has the next flight to Sydney do you?” He asked sarcastically, as he slumped back in the seat, his head falling back.

“I’m afraid not.” The driver replied, giving a half hearted laugh. “Heathrow is the nearest from here.”

“Then I will go to whichever is furthest from here.” Harry replied, wanting to distance himself form Hermione, Ginny and everyone that reminded him off what he could never have. He wanted to get as far away from these feelings as he could, before they consumed him once again.

“Fair enough.” The driver said with a smile, as he pulled away, and the meter started ticking.

“Can’t blame you…Some of these streets can be a bit nasty, especially at this time of night. You never know who you might let in your car… could be a murderer!” He said, as he glanced once more in the mirror. “I notice your travelling light? Going on business or to visit family?”

“Could you just drive please?” Harry said, as he closed his eyes and tried to get some rest.

He was jerked awake as the car came to a sharp stop in the car park. He glanced at the airport, and knew now more than ever that he was making the right choice, in walking away. He thrust some money to the driver, and walked into the airport, which still seemed very lively, as plains touched down and took off. Glancing up at the board he saw that the next flight to Sydney was in just under an hour. He smiled to himself, as he walked to the ticket desk, and handed over his credit card.

Later on that morning, as the sun rose, and the general population awoke for another day in the office, or in traffic Lucas Granger sat at the breakfast table. His bowl of corn flakes quickly turning into a soggy mush before his eyes. He grumbled as he pushed the bowl away, and viewed it as a bit of a mistake, to have gone with one of the cheaper brands. Whoever said it was all the same was an idiot.

He stood up from the table, with the wooden chair scraping across the floor as he saw an owl tapping at his kitchen window. He strode over to the work top, and leant over to open the window. As he did so the bird hopped a little closer, and stood looking expectantly at him with a copy of the daily prophet tied to its leg. He rummaged around for some knuts before giving it to the bird, and untying the paper. No sooner had he done so than the bird turned and flew away.

He put the kettle on to make himself a coffee, as he stood he flipped the paper open to the first page, and glanced at the headline.

“Death Eater comes forwards in exchange for mercy.” At this his interest peaked, and wondered why he hadn’t been contacted by Belatrix and the few other remaining Death Eaters. Who in the small group, would come forwards?

In a sensational twist in the hunt for remaining death eaters one of them came forwards. The man in question, is Felix Fallitruse, He was a high ranking member of the Death Eaters, serving directly under the dark lord, some years ago, but upon increasing investigation has come forward, in exchange for the promise that he won’t be subjected to the Dementors kiss.

Lucas read on more, his heart beating increasingly quickly, not knowing why until he read one particular section.

“Back then no one left the death eaters. It was a job for life, but some of the things they were asking me to do… I just couldn’t. They started off with easy jobs, and then once you’re in they give you harder assignments, things which you would question, had you not already gone so far. Eventually they push you and push you so far, until you would do anything without question, even murder simply for sport.

Well I had a bad incident one night, when we were committing a raid, and I accidentally killed a young boy of about five. It was a reflex reaction, I just saw him out of the corner of my eye. I had killed before but this was just different, the way he looked at me before the spell hit, it made me realise that what we were doing was wrong. The other guys all cheered me and made jokes, but when I got home that night, I couldn’t sleep, I couldn’t concentrate on anything. I couldn’t get on with my life.

I struck a deal with the dark lord. There was a very special assignment he wanted me to do, in order to recruit a new member. I did this one last job, one last murder, and in exchange, my freedom. It was a terrible price to pay, and I know now that freedom is more than I deserve. It’s been a fact that has haunted me for the last five years.

As Lucas’ eyes came to the end of the line something inside him clicked, everything fell into place, and it finally made a little bit of sense. He knew the truth, the horrible truth. That man, Felix, who had come to his house five years ago, claiming to be for the ministry. That man, who had killed his wife, Michelle Granger, was a death Eater all along.

No ministry official was ever there…The good guys hadn’t killed his wife… the whole thing had been orchestrated, so they could get his help… And he had gone along with it. He had offered to help them. All this mess, everything, within the space of a few seconds his perception on the world shifted, and suddenly he had become a monster…

He felt himself convulsing, as though he may be sick, but this passed as the blood drained from his face. He looked about frantically for some way of escaping from the truth. He grabbed the newspaper, and shoved it in the sink, turning the tap on, and tearing at the pages. Trying to destroy what he had read, what he knew. He started pummelling his fist against the hard metal of the sink edge in frustration until his fist was a bloody mess, thick blood and fragments of broken bone on the edge on the sink. He gave a scream, as he dropped to his knees and broke into racking sobs, which hurt his very chest.

What was he to do now?

Hermione sat in bed, awake, with the duvet wrapped round her and her knees pulled up to her chest. She was deep in thought, as the sun crept upwards in the sky, casting shadows across one side of her room. What had happened between her and Harry last night… She didn’t know what to think. On one hand she was angry that he had the audacity to say such things when she was to be married, and on the other Hand she pitied him, that he felt that way, and that he had to tell her, knowing what her answer would be.

She had gone to make a coffee this morning, hoping they could just avoid talking about last night, but Harry was gone. The sofa was lacking his presence, as was the rest of the house. He had taken off, last night by the looks of it, and she knew instinctively that he wouldn’t be coming back. He was never one to take a loss sitting down. He would be getting as far away from her as he could, just like he always did when things got tough.

She wondered briefly whether she should try calling him or not, to clear things up. She hated leaving things on such bad terms, but in the end she decided against this… they would never be on good terms, not when their wants were so different. He wanted what he couldn’t have Hermione could never love him, as she had once done. Not since he had walked out on her, and what they had. She could never forgive him for that.

When she saw him standing on her doorstep that night, as she looked upon him, dressed in her wedding dress, she hoped that in some small way he had grown, had become a more mature person, capable of liking himself enough that he didn’t need to depend on others. She knew now though that he hadn’t changed one bit. He had left again, feeling the same as ever. On one hand she was pleased to know that the man she loved, was still out there, still existed, but on the other regretted this, as she knew it was a part of her life she had closed off.

She mulled over these thoughts, the coffee she had prepared, going cold on the bedside table, remaining untouched. She glanced at the clock, briefly noticing how slowly the minutes seemed to be going by, despite the fact it felt like she had been thinking for hours. A feeling Harry knew only to well. “What was he thinking?!” she asked in exasperation. Her brain was exhausted, and that was a first.

She jumped as there was a loud knock on the front door, and she briefly wondered if it was Harry, come back for some reason. She climbed out of bed and put her slippers on, before making her way down the stairs. The person knocked again, this time more loudly, and in a slightly hurried manner. Hermione frowned to herself, as she closed the remaining distance, and opened the door.

“Dad?” She asked in surprise as she took a step back. He pushed past her, not saying anything at first. With the brief examination she afforded him he looked ill. He was pale, and had a sweat, as though he had run all the way here. His hair was a mess, and his fist was wrapped in bandages, the stain of blood still showing through.

“Is Harry here?” He asked as he peered into the kitchen.

“No… he’s left. He’s gone back home.” She said as for the first time he turned his attention to her.

“Are you feeling alright?” She asked concernedly, as she took his arm and ushered him into the living room, where he fell upon the sofa.

“I think its time, I spoke to you.” He said dryly. She looked down, and saw that his hand was shaking. He saw her watching and quickly stuffed into his pocket. If she didn’t know better she would have suspected him of using drugs.

“If this is the pre wedding talk…” she began, before he cut her off.

“No Hermione, this is different. It’s the kind of sit down talk.”

“Sit down with a coffee, or a stiff drink?” She asked enquiringly.

“A bit of both, together if possible. He said as he sighted a half empty bottle of alcohol form last nights drinking. Normally he would have commented on the fact his daughter shouldn’t be drinking like a sailor, but not today.

“Dad, what’s wrong?” Has something happened?” Hermione asked, now genuinely scared that some terrible event had transpired. She briefly played over possibilities. Adam could have been in an accident, her father could have been diagnosed with cancer. More likely than all of those was that he was here to tell her that Harry Potter had taken his life… except he had been looking for him hadn’t he?”

“Yes, I’m afraid something terrible has happened, five years ago!” An icy chill went down her back as she instantly knew what he was talking about, her mother’s death. He didn’t seem too bad at the time, he certainly supported her. It hadn’t only just hit him now, surely?

“When Mum died?” She asked, to which he simply nodded. He took a gulp of the drink, and continued.

“I’m afraid there is something about that night, that I never told you, I should have, but it’s only now that I know. I’m so sorry, Hermione, I hope you can forgive me.”

“What is it?” She repeated again, reaching out to place a hand on his shoulder. He flinched as she did this so she drew back sharply.

“Your mother, she didn’t die that night due to a heart condition… she was… she was murdered.” He cried, as tears began to roll down his face. Hermione stared back at him, a mirror of his pale complexion, now in shock, unable to comment

“That night we were having dinner, when a man from the ministry of magic named Felix knocked at our door. He was being chased by Death Eaters, so we let him hide in our house, but then the Death Eaters…. those…monsters, they found us. I didn’t want to risk our safety, that of your mothers… I told them where he was hiding. He heard me say this, and jumped out. It was him that killed your mother, before the others stunned him…”

“I would have stopped him but it all happened so fast. It was just a flash… and then she was just gone… like that!”

“You mean a ministry official, this Felix, he killed Mum?” She asked, tears welling up. He voice came out quietly, like a mouse.

“Yes, I'm afraid so” He said as he shook his head. He to, like Harry, could never let go of the one he loved.

“But…” Hermione said, as she began to think. “I don’t remember hearing of a Felix working for the ministry.”

“I’m afraid I haven’t finished yet.” Her father said, as he refused to meet her gaze. “As I stood there, with your mother in my arms, I felt such anger towards this man, and what he stood for. I joined them.” He said, causing Hermione to jump from her chair and back away from him. For a moment her breath was taken away, but eventually she managed to speak again.

“You what?”

“I said I joined them. I wanted revenge for what he had done, I joined the Death Eaters, and helped them.”

“You…. Have you killed anyone?”

“No… not directly at least, though by opening the door that night I killed your mother… and I told them things…. I helped them kill others…” He said pitifully

“And this Felix? She enquired, what about him, did you get your revenge?” She asked, hating him almost as much as her father did.

“No, I never got revenge on him… I never heard anything more of him, till this morning. Have you read the paper?” He enquired, as he drew a soggy torn remnant of the paper from his pocket. She shook her head as he threw it down in front of her. She stared at it for several seconds before looking at him.

“I can’t read what it says?” she said as the ink had run, and she had tears in her eyes.

“It turns out that this Felix, who had killed your mother; he never worked for the Ministry He was a death Eater all along!”

“M-mum was killed by Death Eaters.” She said slowly, madly trying to readjust everything she believed in. “Death Eaters killed her.” She repeated. “And you are one of them. “No, I'm not any more. I was, though I suppose to you it makes little difference.” He talked for several minutes more, explaining everything in more detail, expanding where he could.

Eventually he gave a sigh, as his eyes had run dry.

“I… I don’t know what to say.” Hermione said, as her anger, and sadness had been replaced by numbness. “I can forgive you. You thought what you were doing was right at the time. Hermione said, as Lucas looked up to her a smile spreading across his face for the first time that day.

“I thought I had lost you…” He said as his voice cracked under the emotion.

“But.” She interrupted. “I’m afraid, at least for now, I no longer love you.”

His heart broke again, and with nothing more to loose he took a deep breath.

“Well there is one more thing I need to tell you. About Harry and I…”

“What?” Hermione asked in disbelief. What more could her father possibly have to add to the bombshell?

“Harry knew that I worked for the Death Eaters. My job was to spy on him, give information to them, and to manipulate my position as someone both you and he trusted. I thought I was doing it to help you for your safety, but I don’t know if its true…. That night when he left… it was because of me.” Lucas asked, as he looked up from the floor, letting her briefly see the wild look in his eyes, like a scared and cornered animal.

“That’s not true.” Hermione bit back. She wasn’t going to accept that.

“It is, im afraid. The day he left. I spoke to him. I told him if he got to close to you then I couldn’t guarantee your safety. He refused to believe me. He said he could protect you. I know it was a mistake but I told him that if he didn’t end his relationship with you then I would kill you. That’s why he left Hermione, it was never because he stopped loving you…”

“But he…we had an argument…” Hermione murmured, before falling to a silence… All these years she had thought Harry was a coward, but what if her father was telling the truth? What if he had never wanted to leave, and it was as hard on him as it was on her? Harder even, as he watched her resent what he did, move on with her life, and get engaged to another man. Always knowing the only thing he could do to help and protect her, was to be as far away as possible?

“Well I don’t know much about that…It may have been an excuse, or even a contributing factor, but I don’t think he would have left afterwards…

“What will you do?” She asked, after both of them sat for a few minutes in silence, neither one knowing what to add, that could make the situation more comfortable, more bearable.

“Well I have betrayed the Death Eaters, I know their names, and they will be coming for me, all I can do is turn myself in, and hope for a mercy bargain…”

“No.” She said firmly. “It was a mistake, though they won’t see it like that. Run away. Get out of the country, where they can’t find you, the Death Eaters. Maybe in time you will be safe again. Maybe in time I will be able to look at you…” She said, as at that moment the phone rang. She stood, wondering whether to answer it or not, but decided she had nothing more to say to her father. He had told her everything she needed to know.

“Guess who just got on a plane.” Adam said excitedly.

“Oh…Adam.” Hermione said, suddenly being snapped back to her present day situation.

“You don’t sound to pleased to hear from me. Is everything allright?”

“Yeah sorry… I’m just a bit tired is all… It’s been a long day.”

“Isn’t it only breakfast time over there?” He enquired. “Anyway I’m going to be there this afternoon.” He said with a smile

“I’ won’t be here.” Hermione said softly.

“Oh have you made plans then?”

“No, I mean, I won’t be here.” She repeated, before she hung up. A moment later the phone rang again, but she wouldn’t answer it. She would sort things out with him later, but for now, she had somewhere else se needed to be.”

She walked out of the kitchen, to see that her father was no longer in the living room. The front door swung gently in the wind, a marker or his exit. Despite it all, she found herself smiling slightly, as she packed a bag, and set off for the airport. She flagged a taxi down, and slid into one of the back seats.

“Where to miss?” Asked the taxi driver.

“You don’t know which airport has the next flight to Sydney do you?” Hermione asked rhetorically

“No… I don’t.” The taxi driver replied, slightly taken back.

“You want to go to the furthest away airport?” He enquired.

“No, the nearest one will do.” She said, as she closed her eyes, and convinced herself that she was doing the right thing.

“You know a few hours ago I had a young man…” The taxi driver began, before he was interrupted.

“Could you just drive please?” She asked, as he nodded, and set off once again.

Several hours later Harry stood in his apartment. Rain was pounding against the large windows which looked out over the city…

“Wherever I go, it rains…” He said to himself. He flicked the lights on and looked around. Everything was exactly as he had left it, and yet strangely, there was no sign that it was his, it looked like the apartment, and its entire contents had been lifted from the pages of a magazine.

He took off his top, which was soaked through and flopped down onto the leather armchair, not caring about his wet trousers and socks. He turned the tv on, and reached out one arm to his right, not looking, but feeling the different bottles of alcohol available, choosing which one he wanted… He found some rum, and poured himself a glass, before downing it in one… It burned the back of his throat…

“I need to stop drinking so much…” He said, yet poured himself another.

A film was playing, yet he really wasn’t paying attention to it. Instead he thought about what would be his next move, if he even had one. The lightning and thunder continued outside. With every clap the glass windows shook a little. After a few hours the tv signal went out, but he remained sitting in the chair, sipping on his drink thoughtfully, and watching the static.

The heating in the room was turned up high, and at one point his trousers began to steam, so they were all but dry now. He got up briefly and made himself a sandwich. He liked sandwiches… nice and straight forward. Despite being talented at cooking, he seldom made anything for himself. He sat back down in his chair as a clap of thunder rolled outside.

Harry turned his head, as after several seconds there was no strike of lightning. The thunder clapped again, and he realised that it was a knock at the door…

“My door…” he said to himself. “Who the hell could that be?” No one had ever knocked at his door. He didn’t know anyone who would… Ron had visited before, but never unexpectedly, he never knocked…

And in this weather no less?

He looked down and realised he still had no top on. He quickly walked to his room where he opened the wardrobe door. He grabbed the first item of clothing available, which happened to be a tux, and shoved the sandwich in his mouth as he slid his arms into the sleeves, and then walked to the door looking slightly more presentable.

There, standing in his door way, was Hermione. Her clothes were soaked through, and clung to her slender body, revealing her curves.

“Hello Harry.” she said as she gave him a quick appraisal. He was wearing a tux, yet not even a t shirt underneath it. Despite the fact he had often dreamed of opening the door to see her standing there, all he could say was.

“Hi…Come out of the rain.” He turned and walked back into the living room leaving her to follow him in, and close the door.

“There is a gas fire over there.” He said as he pointed at the wall, where there was a very slim line fireplace.

“That’s ok.” I have my wand, she said as she fumbled in her pocket.

“Suit yourself.” He replied, before heading off to the bathroom, and returning a moment later with a fresh towel for her to dry her hair with. “I know you don’t like to dry your hair with magic at least.” He said with a small smile as she nodded and accepted it from him…

“Would you like something to eat?” I haven’t really had the chance to do much shopping but I can make you a sandwich. The breads a bit stale, so you might want to pass. Or you can just have some marmite or something” He said as he rubbed his chin, thinking about what he still had in the cupboards.

“I will settle for a drink.” She responded. “A hot drink that is.” She added, ad he started walking to the table besides his chair.

The pair of them made small talk for a moment whilst they kettle boiled, and he prepared them a drink each. Hermione didn’t know where to begin, and Harry didn’t want it to end. As soon as he asked why she was here, she would dash his dreams, and leave all too soon, so he supposed the less he said, the longer she would stay. Maybe if he became a professional mime she would live with him?

“So, fancy this weather huh.” He said with a small smile as they both sat down. “It’s normally better than this. And my apartment isn’t normally so messy.” He added, as he glanced round, regretting that he hadn’t been warned she would be arriving. There was a tv remote just lying on the table, and a magazine, still open on the arm of the chair.

“Um Harry. We need to talk.” Hermione began, as she gave a sigh.

“I know. It wasn’t my place to say what I did, and if you need to know about table arrangements to be honest I don’t think I will be attending the wedding, so don’t worry about trying to find me a place or anything.”

“I’m pleased to hear you’re not going.” Hermione responded, gathering her courage. Harry was a little taken back by this. He appreciated that it might make things uncomfortable, but for her to say it as such was a little hurtful.

“Well to be honest I couldn’t think of a gift to get.” He retorted.

“That’s not what I meant Harry. I meant I'm glad you’re not going. If you were you would turn up and no one would be there. It would be a waste of your day.”

“You mean… your not getting married?” Harry asked in disbelief. “What happened, was it something Adam said? A misunderstanding? If he thinks it’s because I still love you that’s ok…. I’m so over that now.” He lied as he looked everywhere but at her.

“I’m not…” She said softly.

“Pardon.” He asked, as his heart skipped a beat. “Come again.”

“I know the truth Harry. My father told me everything, about what he had done, about why you left. It was because of him wasn’t it.”

Harry couldn’t respond to this. He never wanted her to know the truth about her father. She cared so much for him, especially since she lost her moth, but now to loose her father as well. She deserved more than that.

“Tell me Harry, is that why you left? I need to know.” She stared at him for several moments, waiting for an answer, before he gave a small nod.

As he did this, her eyes began to water. And she raised from her seat, and moved over to where he was sitting, she knelt down in front of him and reached out to take his face in her hands. His chin was warm, yet rough in her hands. He felt her cool, smooth hands, as she raised his gaze, so he was looking at her. She moved closer, until they were only a few inches apart.

“I forgive you Harry.” She said, as tears rolled down her cheeks. She gave him a tender yet passionate kiss, which he returned. His eyes closed as he tried to savour the moment, not knowing if he would ever get a chance to kiss her again, as he was now.

“Will you forgive me Harry?” She asked worriedly, causing him to frown.

“Forgive you for what?”

“For doubting your love for me. For saying the mean things I did. It was so hard on me when you left, but it must have been worse for you. I’m so sorry Harry.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for.” He said, as he drew her closer to him, wrapping his arms around her, drawing her near, so he could steal away another kiss, her breasts pressing against his chest through her clothes.

The kiss drew out, becoming more passionate, and deeper. More than anything the power of their emotions, building up for years, was overwhelming, and Harry found his arms running up her back, wanting to increase the feeling of intimacy, to disperse with whatever it was that separated them, and just simply be Harry and Hermione, with nothing else. No complications, no worries. Just the two of them

Hermione broke the kiss, and stood to her feet. Harry worried she turn and leave, but instead she said with a reminiscent tone.

“Show me your bedroom Harry.” As she said this he couldn’t but help as a large grin spread across his face, and he knew that now, if not forever things were going to be perfect.

He took her hand, small in his and led her towards the bedroom.

“Just to clarify…” Harry said, as she pushed him onto his back, straddling him upon the bed. “You said there wasn’t going to be a wedding. Does that mean your choosing me over Adam?” She smiled as she reached down and took hold of the sides of her top, before pulling it up and over her head, revealing a black bra with lacy trim. She reached round and unclipped the back

“Does that answer your question?” She asked, as he pulled her down on top of him.”

One month later things were going well between them. Hermione had explained things on the phone to Adam, and although it had been upsetting for her, she reassured Harry that it was the choice she had wanted. Harry sold his apartment in Sydney, and moved in with Hermione. Her work load was much more manageable, and he also managed to secure a job at the ministry, which meant they could see each other on lunch breaks, which was an added bonus.

Harry smiled, as he looked at his desk. There was a pile of papers on one side, and a few folders on the other, but right in the middle was a card which read “Happy one month anniversary.” It had made him smile several times that day, and knowing that Hermione had finished work early that day, to prepare a “special” meal, he couldn’t wish for more. All in all he would say things were better than they had ever been.

He rocked back in his chair, the front two legs lifting off the floor. He glanced at the clock, which read it was coming up to six o’clock, which is when he was due to finish. He thought for a moment more, chewing on the end of his pen, before reaching over to the phone, and tapping in the number. It rung twice before Hermione picked up.

“Hello?” She enquired.

“Oh hi Mione, It’s Harry.” He said despite the fact she instantly recognised his voice. “I’m afraid I have a bit of bad news. Something urgent has come up at work, and I'm afraid it looks like I'm going to be a bit late home. I’m really sorry, I know how much effort you put into it.” He said.

“Oh.” Hermione said, a little disappointed. “Well I suppose it can’t be helped. Try not to be to late though, or we might need to skip straight to desert.” She added with a suggestive tone

“No I won’t be too late, ok talk to you later love.” He responded, before putting the phone down, sitting back in his chair, and doing absouletly nothing.