Disclaimer for all chapters: I have not, do not, and will not ever own Harry Potter...or Hermione Granger....or Ronald Wealsey....or Draco Malfoy....or....well you get the picture.
Chapter 1: You've Changed
Could it be? She walked towards him; his messy black hair and his face hadn't changed a bit. His eyes were still the same captivating green she remembered and his scar still stood out prominently against his pale skin. His glasses were slightly cracked, and he ran a hand through his hair as he caught sight of her. At first, he didn't seem to know who she was. That was all right, she supposed. She had changed more than she would have liked. Her hair, once bushy with a life of its own, now hung limply in tangles, as if she couldn't bear to comb through it in the mornings, or even to put a charm on it. Her whole body drooped as if the little weight on it was too much for her. The light in her big brown eyes, once captivating, once full of knowledge, was gone. She unconsciously shivered in the cold January air.
He walked toward her, almost not willing to believe that the bright, stubborn, confident woman he had left so many years ago, his best friend, had deteriorated into this creature. The aftermath or the war must have done some unmentionable things to her. Thoughts ran through his mind as he took in her appearance. How could he have left her? How could he not have seen that she needed him? But she had let him go without a fight. She even gave her blessing, understanding that he needed space, away from the people who only knew The-Boy-Who-Killed-Voldermort. The time away had certainly done him good. He had grown stronger, both physically and mentally. His mind had finally wrapped around the fact that killing Voldermort wasn't like killing another human, that Voldermort wasn't human. He had come to terms with the fact that he was not responsible for his loved ones' deaths, and that the only thing he could do was to celebrate their lives. He had finally made it back to England, prepared to reenter his life, to retake what he had left behind ten years ago.
He was prepared that she would have changed, physically and mentally as well; no one could have been through all that she had and not changed, but he wasn't prepared for this. Until this moment, he hadn't been able to believe that she couldn't handle life. She had always been so strong. She had always stood beside him, no matter the danger. She had used her knowledge and ability to study to save him without so much as a blink of an eye. She had taken countless number of curses and falls and always managed a bright smile afterwards when she found out that her friends were all right. She was the strength behind him. What could have happened?
"Hey," was all she said as she looked up at the athletic being in front of her. She couldn't meet his eyes, certain that if she did, she would burst into tears. Surely, he wouldn't know who she was. But he only pulled her into a warm hug. Harry almost never initiated hugs, so this one surprised her.
"Hermione, what happened?" he asked incredulously. "I thought I told you that I would always be here for you, if you needed to talk about your problems. You could have owled me anytime and Hedwig would have found me wherever I was. I would have come home for you. I thought I told you that!"
"You did, Harry." She tested his name out, for the first time in ten years. "I just didn't want to burden you. You needed time away from all this, to find out that the war was bigger than you, that you weren't responsible for all those people. You needed time by yourself, to heal the wounds that would have never healed if I were with you. I couldn't bear it if you put off your recovery for me, Harry. I just couldn't."
He gaped at her. He could have cursed himself right then for not being able to be there to protect her, for not being able to be there for her when she needed him most. Now, he just wanted to erase all the bad things that she had experienced, all the curses, all the spiteful remarks, all the times when she could have been safe only to risk her life to save his. But he knew from his time away that he couldn't change her past. He could only make her future better.
"Come with me." He led her to his newfound flat on the top of a steep hill and sat her down on the couch. "Talk."
With that one word, the tears began to flow. She sobbed as she recounted what had happened after Harry left. Even if she wanted to stop, she knew she wouldn't be able to. But she didn't want to. All her troubles, her hopes, her fears poured out with her tears. She told him that she decided to work in St. Mungos after the demise of Voldermort because she felt the need to help those who had been wounded in the war get better. She told him how although the Death Eaters had perished with their master, there were still those who wanted revenge. Every week, new causalities would be brought into St. Mungos because of those who felt that killing innocents would bring back the Dark Lord. She told him how, three years ago, Ron had been a victim of an attack in Diagon Alley. He told her with his last breath that he was going to make it, if only to propose to Luna and had showed her the most beautiful ring she had ever seen. Ron died with a smile on his face and a ring in his hand. Hermione buried her head in her hands as she told how hadn't been able to save him, how she quit her job that very day, how she broke the news to Luna and sat with her for a year mourning the death of one of her best friends. Exactly a year after Ron's death, Luna died of a sudden heart attack. Everyone contributed it to the fact that she wasn't eating enough and her heart couldn't take the lack of nutrients, but Hermione knew better. Luna had died from heartbreak, she surmised, because she loved Ron more than anything in the world. They were together then, and Hermione made the decision to disappear from the wizarding world forever. She couldn't face the Weasleys anymore, whom she was sure blamed her for Ron's death. She couldn't face any of their old friends anymore. She couldn't face anyone anymore. She bought a small flat in Surrey and had been living on her life's savings ever since.
He held her as she cried, wanting to destroy the people who made her life hell, wanting to destroy those who had killed Ron and Luna, but for now, all he could do was listen. He didn't ask her why she didn't write to him about Ron. He didn't ask her why she didn't write to him about Luna. He just held her, and it was enough.