In the Eyes of the Beholder

A/N: Sorry this was a long wait. Thank-you for being so patient. I will try as best as I can to get an update a frequent as I can but I have tonnes of work at the moment. Anyway, enjoy.

Hermione was glad to be out of the restricting stone walls of the room behind her. She sighed, squaring her shoulders, reassuring herself that everything was going to be alright. The 27 year-old woman was feeling dead beat and countless years older than she really was. She had began to hate looking at her reflection in the mirror and seeing weary brown eyes staring back at her filled with a deep and hidden grief. As she walked down the ancient corridors she now knew so well, she dreamed of her days back at Hogwarts, back to the years before Dumbledore had died. Even though times had been troubled, Hermione had been filled with a content happiness and her eyes had shone with a bright sparkle. Everything had been less complicated then it was now and she had her two best friends to love and support her and to give her purpose in life.

Now, however, she had lost one of her friends and was on the verge of loosing another. Now, she was beginning to wonder where she had gone wrong.

She supposed it had all began with her rising dreams to be the best she could and at the same time improve the wizarding world as much as she possibly could. She was beyond sick of the prejudices that plagued a world that Hermione had believed to have turned into a new era. In her naïve innocence she had assumed that the death of Voldemort would mean that those prejudices would die with him. Unfortunately, that had never happened and Hermione had been rudely awoken by her fantasies of equality.

However, this had made her just as determined to do something about it.

Much to the surprise of Ron and Harry and the approval of Professor McGonagall (and Hermione hoped, the approval of her deceased Head Master, Dumbledore), she had laid aside her dreams of becoming an auror alongside her two adventurous friends. Instead, she had turned her ambitions to a position perhaps just as dangerous and entered the world of politics.

Many had been astonished at her choice, but saw quickly that she was single-minded to make a difference and realised it was perhaps the correct job for the young woman.

It had taken many years of hard work for her to get where she was today. She had needed her inner strength, her determination, a sharp mind and the ability to mask her emotions, qualities Hermione had at hand. Needless to say, she had done it, not as easily as she would have liked, but all the same, she had achieved her goal to become the Minister of Magic.

It was in those seven years at the ministry that she had gotten married, lost a dear friend, made some new ones.

And now as her third year as Minister of Magic began, Hermione was close to loosing all that she had gained in those precious seven years. Her marriage was falling apart at the seams and she no longer knew who to trust anymore.

She turned briskly, walking down another ancient, draughty corridor illuminated by magnificently tall stain-glass windows. The glass was divided into shards of pink, green, blue and white, lighting the corridor in a brilliant radiance. For a fleeting moment, Hermione felt that she was standing in a church but she chased away the thought, a frown creasing her tightly drawn face. She paused a moment, her eyes following the dazzling light which made the whole corridor glow. She shook her head, noticing for the first time that the door at the end of the corridor was the only thing not illuminated by the breath-taking windows. Hermione wondered if it was a bad omen but ignored the thought and strode purposefully to the door that led to her department, scolding herself for being so negative.

She sighed wearily as she slid through the enormous ebony doors, walking into the large foyer that contained countless offices, a spacious lounge and a fully equipped café. The room was constructed with a classical Greek décor of stunning marble columns and marble floors.

Hermione made her way down a small set of stairs and wound her way through the maze of offices, around the tall marble fountain in the centre of the foyer, stopping at the café to pick up a coffee.

Then, without pausing to talk to anyone, she left quietly through the glass doors that led to her own personal office. She swept past her secretary Bonnie with a curt nod and entered her office through another set of glass doors. Sitting down at her mahogany desk, Hermione sipped at her coffee, distractedly watching Bonnie work.

The glass wall had been Hermione's own innovative idea. It had been one of the first things she'd changed when she had come into office. It allowed her to know exactly who was in her office without having to be informed and with a wave of her wand it also became tinted so that she had all the privacy that she might need.

Still distracted, Hermione watched her blonde-haired secretary as she worked. As she did her thoughts wandered to the Cabinet meeting she had left only minutes before.

It seemed that her Older Ministers were stirring up a treacherous plot to kick her out of her position as Minister of Magic. It wasn't the first attempt, but Hermione was beginning to grow extremely wary of the old prejudiced men that objected to her being their leader.

She knew as a fact that one of them, most likely the Head of Dwarf Rights and Responsibilities, had leaked to the Daily Prophet some nonsense story about the threat of the Dwarf Civil War late last March. It was an effort to change the events that had occurred, making Hermione appear hesitant to react to the situation. In truth, it had been her Ministers that had not known what to do, Hermione being the only one to remain cool-headed during chaos. She had been compensated however, by a younger Minister deciding to speak out about the plot against her.

The older Ministers had still shook their heads, saying that it wasn't the first time that Hermione had made a blunder and that she had bribed someone to cover up her tracks.

The young Minister had been that last to stand up for her.

The message was clear: She was becoming a public embarrassment for the Ministry.

As she day dreamed, the door to her office opened and Bonnie poked her head through the door returning Hermione to the present.

“Miss,” she said softly, her lips a grim line, “You're husband is here to see you.”

Hermione nodded and prepared herself for encounter she knew been coming for months now.

Her husband came through the now tinted glass door, taking a seat on one of the comfortable leather lounges.

“Ron,” she began, getting up to sit next to him, “Is there something wrong?”

The look on his face said it all.

“I'm sorry `Mione. I've put you through so much lately.”

Hermione was shocked by the simplicity statement. She had expected him to yell at her, to blame her for everything that had happened. Quickly, she rearranged her facial expressions into unreadable mask.

“You've hurt me Ron.” she whispered.

It was true. She and Ron had been arguing for almost a year now. Hermione had always wanted to have plenty of kids ever since she was a small child, being the only child in her family. It had come as a surprise to her when Ron had bluntly told her he didn't feel the same. When she had tried to reason with him, he had yelled at her, saying that he wasn't ready for kids yet.

Hermione had cried for nights on end, she had even given up on talking to him. Eventually, she forgot about giving him the cold shoulder and tried another approach. It was met with a similar reaction.

In the end, Hermione gave up entirely and decided to try and go on as if nothing had ever happened. Nothing she did could change her heart ache.

From there on, she had Ron had continued to argue about the smallest of things almost every night now. She knew the divorce was coming but it did not dim or console the pain. She was still in love with Ron despite everything that happened and what made things worse, Hermione suspected that her husband had been cheating on her.

“I…I know,” he mumbled, “I think it was about time we went our separate ways.”

Hermione knew all the colour had faded from her face.

“No.”

“Hermione, it's over. Please don't make it any harder then it already is.”

The Ron sitting beside her seemed so completely different. She wanted him to yell at her.

“Ron, you're being irrational!”

“No,” he muttered, shaking his head in determined resolve, “You know we can't continue like this.”

“But…But,” her voice wavered. With a sigh she gave in.

“I guess you're right.”

She did not cry, instead she closed the door behind him as he left. She sat back down at her desk, furiously throwing the photo of her wedding day at the wall, watching as it smashed into dozens of little pieces.

…………………………………………………………………………………………..

The afternoon definitely marked the turning of winter into spring. There was a warm humid breeze blowing through the streets of London bringing in dark storm clouds over the bustling city. People wandering around the streets ran for cover, each expecting the rain to fall at any moment.

However, there was one young man who seemed not to be concerned by the weather, even when the rain started; he kept his casual pace, walking from his work place to his apartment two blocks away.

His mind was on what he would do on the weekend, having only realised it was Friday a few minutes ago. He had no idea what he was going to do, having no work left to catch up on. After only coming back from Spain yesterday, he hadn't received any more pressing work.

It seemed he had only himself to entertain.

Determined to get through the weekend by himself, as he done many times before, he chased away his depressing thoughts of loneliness.

Reaching his apartment building he walked in, nodding his head at the receptionist before getting into the elevator and hitting the button for his floor. He glanced down at his suit, finally noticing that he was drenched to the bone.

Once he was home, he went straight to the shower before making a bee line to the fridge: a task which always kept his mind busy. The smell of rain filled the whole apartment while lightning lit up the room. A strong wind blew the curtains up into the air, knocking over a vase and distracting Harry from his important task of eating.

He repaired the vase and inspected the half open sliding door. He knew without a doubt that he had shut the door to the balcony that very morning because he was on the second floor and anyone could break in.

Someone had gotten into his apartment and could still be there.

Alert, the old auror training kicking in. He picked up his wand, making noises so it didn't warn his intruder. He went over to the sink and began running some water, hoping the sound would hide what he was really doing. Then, he went into the lounge room but heard muffled sounds coming from his study.

Deadly silent now, he crept up to the door, relieved to find it was half open. Now he had the element of surprise…

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Hermione turned around, only to find that she was being watched. She jumped, frightened by the green eyes that stared back at her.

“Hey Harry,” she said shakily, biting her lower lip as she did so.

“Hermione, it's nice to see you and all, but did you need to break into my apartment?” He spoke softly, almost as if he thought if he yelled he would wake up and find she was just a dream, a very bad one. A flash of lightening illuminated the room, making his face look menacing. He watched her intently, stepping into the room.

Stepping far too close for comfort.

He hadn't changed much in appearance. Hermione could still see the faint lightening bolt on his forehead and his unruly black hair was still impossible to manage. He still towered over her, not in height, but she still felt slightly intimidated by his presence, taking an unconscious step back from him.

“I…I needed a place to stay…”

She cursed herself for being so unsure of herself. She had planned that she would get into his apartment and wait for him to get home. He'd come in, see her sitting there waiting for him and everything would be alright, just like it was in the movies. It was at the last minute when she had heard his keys turn in the lock; she had begun to doubt her foolish plan. Filled with nervousness and sheer idiocy, she had run into the nearest room: his bedroom. Realising seconds before getting caught that she needed a new hiding spot she had bolted into the living room and into the study was standing in now.

“You know I do have door. If you wanted a place to stay, all you had to do was knock on it and ask nicely,” he muttered harshly. He shook his head in exasperation.

“I thought you might turn me down.”

Hermione was proud that her voice sounded almost normal.

“And this stunt wouldn't get you kicked out? Hermione, even after all these years, I'd never turn you down!”

“It's been so long Harry. I don't know you anymore.”

“Don't say that.”

Harry grabbed her shoulders and shook her gently.

“No, you were the one who left and expected us to clean up after your mess. While you hid from what happened, the rest of us grew up and moved on. I don't have nightmares anymore Harry but I know you do. I don't regret the past or try to forget what really occurred. Sure, I didn't go through what you went through but I was there. You gave up Harry. You let me down and you let down Ron.”

He sighed, frowning and turning his back on her.

“Let it drop Hermione. How long do you need to stay for?”

Hermione looked up from the ground, startled. She smiled.

“Um…A couple of weeks. Just until I find a place of my own to live,” she said.

With a slight nod, Harry left the room and walked to the kitchen. He began rummaging through the fridge, pulling out large quantity of food.

“Hungry are we?”

That won her a smile.

“Yeah, I had a long day.”

She nodded wearily, agreeing with him. She then went over to a couch and flopped onto it, glad to finally have her feet off the ground. Hermione listened to the familiar sounds of a person working in a kitchen and watched the storm through the window in front of her.

It wasn't long until Harry joined her, forcing her to move over so he could sit down. The two of them sat with their feet on a coffee table eating sweets.

She glanced at him, curious to know what he was thinking. She could hear his voice, but it was only blurred murmur and she wasn't following what he was saying. She was tired and she was with Harry. In the back of her mind, Hermione knew she was playing with fire but was too tired to care. For now, she and Harry were ignoring what happened between them and until the time came when they decided to address the issue, she planned on pretending that she was seventeen again.

………………………………………………………………………………………......

Harry watched her dozing. It was well and truly past midnight and probably time to wake her and send her to bed but he couldn't bring himself to disturb her. She looked so peaceful, so calm, lost in the world of dreams. Hermione had been right. She didn't get the nightmares anymore, he could see that. He still had nightmares, another point for her side, which to him meant that she still knew him despite what she said.

He wondered if she understood how true her words had been. Harry Potter was a coward; a self-centred, selfish coward. He had lost so much in ten years in his desperate attempt to find happiness and escape from a world where everyone knew his name. He liked being anonymous, feeling secure in his own home. He liked not having cameras in his face or people like Rita Skeeter sticking their nose in things that had nothing to do with them.

Hermione shifted, drawing his unfocused gaze back to her. She had stayed behind and battled on, even after the battle was over. He had kept in touch with the wizarding world every now and then, watching Hermione's campaign in the Daily Prophet, being over-joyed for her when she had gotten the job of Minister of Magic. He'd been immensely interested in articles about her, some of them notifying her brilliant work, however, most of them degrading her position. He could understand her weariness, the deep sunken look under her eyes. He knew why she had such a gaunt face, why she looked like she was on the verge of collapse. Harry had heard about alligations that she was becoming an embarrassment for the Ministry, knew about all the plots against her and the black-mailing and corruption within her Cabinet. He had been concerned about her safety and state of mind, even more so when someone had tried to kill her. He had been so tempted to run out of hiding and be Harry the Hero again, to rescue his damsel in distress and shelter her from the big bad world. Of course, the temptation had been an unrealistic idea. Hermione was a big girl; she could stand on her own two feet. She had a husband to take care of her, to protect her and encourage her not to give up. She would not appreciate him coming to help, or to interfere as she would put it. It didn't matter if he was just trying to be a friend. He had lost her the day he had walked away from his life, her life…

…Their life

He had loved her. Loved her more then anyone he had ever cared about before. She had been someone he could confide in, someone who didn't judge him because he was who he was. She saw the insecure boy that he was and taught him to achieve, to never give up, but most of all, to believe in himself.

She had been a best friend, almost like a sister, the one person who knew how to get on his nerves, how to make him smile. She had scolded him, mothered him and stood up for him. She had been one person he could relate to. For a short time, he had been completely hers until he had lost her to Ron.

It had been heart breaking to watch her go. To know that he could never have her had torn him to pieces and was ultimately the reason he had packed up and walked away. He seemed to be trapped in a never ending void. He had been stuck in reality but he could say or do nothing but watch his life and the people he treasured slip through his fingers.

It was time for a change, a drastic one. It was time that he moved on. He knew that Hermione had a long time ago and so had Ron. He was the only one left that was stuck in the past, reliving the horrific times in his sleep.

He was grateful that Hermione had turned up at his doorstep asking for help, because by doing so, she had made him realise that he needed some help too.

The only question was how.

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