Same Old Lang Syne
Author's Note: So last night, I checked the stats for this story, and apparently there were over 400 hits for 5 reviews. Now, I'm not complaining, per se, I like that people are looking at my story, but to all those who did read my story and didn't leave a review, I would just like to hear your thoughts on how my writing is. Many thanks to those who review. I promise that I will always do my best to reply to every review I get, because I always like when people respond to my reviews. So anyway, enjoy the chapter!
December 24th
Harry stood outside Flourish and Blotts once more. He had already been standing there for twenty minutes, and the snow was beginning to pile up on his shoulders. He sighed and pushed the front door to the bookstore open, brushing the snow off his shoulders. He stole a quick glance around the store, but saw no trace of Hermione.
"Well, I'm not going to find her like this," he said to himself. He began to walk through the store, looking up and down each aisle. Looking down the aisle for potions books, he saw a woman kneeling down in front of the bookcase. She had long, brown hair, which obscured her face from Harry's sight. He approached the woman slowly.
"Hermione?" He reached out to touch her on the shoulder, but she turned around, and he pulled his hand back. It wasn't Hermione.
"I'm sorry," she said, standing up. "Did you say something?"
"I'm sorry," said Harry. "I thought you were somebody else."
"It's okay," said the woman, and returned to her books. Harry turned away and resumed his search of the store.
Harry paused by the sections on Divination, Muggle Relations, Charms, Hexes, Jinxes, and Astronomy, but Hermione was nowhere to be found in any of them. By the time Harry reached the section on Ancient Runes, he was beginning to feel discouraged. Maybe she didn't come in, he thought. However, as he turned his gaze down the aisle for History of Magic, his heart skipped a beat. Hermione was sitting in a chair at the end of the aisle, reading a book on the role of Goblins in Wizard history. She didn't even notice Harry approaching her.
He touched her arm lightly, his heart beating so fast he was afraid it would explode. Hermione looked up, her eyes widened, and before he knew it, she was standing and had locked Harry in a tight embrace.
"Harry, it's so good to see you," she said, squeezing him as hard as she could manage. Harry hugged her back, but couldn't help feeling a bit guilty. After all, she was probably hugging him as a friend, and he felt as he were taking advantage of her somehow. Still, it felt good, better than he could have imagined, to hold her in his arms. Just then, Harry decided he probably would not have been able to let go of Hermione if he had wanted to.
"Harry, where have you been," Hermione asked softly.
"It's…hard to explain," said Harry. He couldn't bring himself to tell Hermione that he had been avoiding her for so long, especially not when being with her again felt so right. "I missed you, Hermione."
"I missed you too, Harry." Unseen by Harry, Hermione began to cry silently. They held each other for what seemed like an hour.
"Would you like to get something to drink?" Harry asked Hermione as they pulled apart. Upon seeing Hermione's tears, he frowned. "Hermione, what's wrong?" Harry knew, however, that it had to do with him, and a fresh wave of guilt flowed over him.
"It's been years since I've so much as heard from you, Harry! I was afraid you hated me, but I could never figure out why." She sobbed.
Harry looked down at his feet, feeling very ashamed. "I never hated you, Hermione, I just couldn't bring myself to face you." He looked up at her, and tears were beginning to form in his own eyes. "I never wanted to cause you any pain." He hugged her again. "I'm so sorry, Hermione." He felt like a heel. All this time, he had only been thinking about his own feelings. He had never once considered how he was making Hermione feel.
Hermione sniffed and dried her eyes. "How about that drink," she said, smiling weakly.
"Sure," said Harry, hugging her again.
"Just let me take care of these books," said Hermione, waving her wand and levitating a pile of books next to her chair, which almost reached the arm of the chair. She went to the checkout counter and paid for the books, was given a bag, and they left the store, Hermione closing a long, sweeping cloak around her, and Harry closing his coat over his robes. He preferred a coat, as coats tend to have more pockets.
By the time they got to Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor, a great deal of snow had accumulated on both Harry and Hermione. They sat down outside, in the temperature-controlled sitting area, and ordered two hot cocoas. Over the hot drinks, they talked, trying to catch up on all that they had missed over the years that they had missed not being together. Several times, Harry almost let slip how he felt about her, but he caught himself. He didn't want to just blurt it out.
At one point, Harry caught Hermione giving him a look he had never seen her give anybody before, but it disappeared as quickly as it had appeared. It was almost a look of longing, and Harry wondered, not for the first time, if Hermione had been harboring feelings for him all these years. Finally, Harry decided he couldn't wait to tell Hermione anymore.
"Hermione," he began, taking her hand in his. "This isn't easy to say." Hermione nodded, understanding that he was serious. "I…I love you. I've loved you for years." Harry's worst fear was not of rejection, but rather that Hermione would think that he merely meant the love that best friends feel for each other. However, this fear was unjustified. Hermione understood immediately, her eyes widening in shock. She brought her other hand up to her mouth, and sat back hard in her seat.
"Oh, my…" she said softly, as if Harry had just told her that Crookshanks had been hit by the Knight Bus. "Oh my…Harry, I suspected, but I never knew." Harry sat across from her silently. "I…I have to think about this, Harry, I don't know what to think." Harry saw tears welling up in Hermione's eyes, and she stood up abruptly, throwing her cloak around her, picking up her books, and hurried away, shielding her eyes from Harry's view.
"Well, now I've done it," said Harry silently. "I've officially screwed it up." His hands curled into fists. "Damn it!" He shouted, slamming his fists down on the table. The store was empty, except for Florean Fortescue, who came over and gave Harry another hot cocoa and an understanding pat on the shoulder. Harry slumped in his seat and drank the hot cocoa slowly. Bit by bit, he began to feel a little bit better, but just barely.
Somehow he managed to gather enough will to move, and leaving a very generous tip on the table for Florean Fortescue, he shuffled out of the shop. He fumbled with the fastenings of his coat, numbly closing it, but more out of habit than conscious thought. There was very little actual thought running through his head aside from his self-berating for fouling his relationship with Hermione. As he walked slowly towards his flat, the softly falling snow turned into a merciless, drenching rain.
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Finally reaching his flat, Harry hung his coat and outer robes by the door to dry. He peeled the soaking wet clothes off his body and climbed into the shower. He tried to focus on the hot water, on the steam, on anything but the events of the day. After ten minutes of unsuccessfully trying to forget about Hermione, Harry turned off the water, dressed absent-mindedly, and sat down on his couch. He leaned his head on the wall behind the couch, and tried to let loose and allow himself to cry, but the tears wouldn't come. Too much damage had been done to justify mere tears. He couldn't even get angry at anybody, because he was the only person to blame, and one of his neighbors would call the Mediwizards in the white coats if he started yelling at himself.
After about an hour, Harry managed to pull himself up off the couch. He sat down at his small table, where Hedwig had left two letters. He opened the letter from Ron first. It was an invitation to spend as much time with them at the Burrow as he needed to. Harry smiled slightly, but even the small smile didn't last. He knew Ron was always ready to offer a helping hand, even if sometimes he didn't know when to offer it. This time, however, was not one of those times. Harry suspected if anybody could help him feel better, it would be the Weasleys.
The other letter was from Remus Lupin. Harry almost didn't open the letter at all, as he had a sick feeling he knew what it would contain. He was right. Harry barely got through half of the letter before he threw it across the room. Lupin was congratulating him. He had been so sure that Hermione would share Harry's feelings that he had written Harry an entire letter based solely on congratulating him. Harry couldn't stand it. Even though he had no reason to be mad at Hermione, he was furious at her anyway. In fact, regardless of the love that he felt for Hermione, if she was sitting at the table with him, even Harry couldn't have been sure if he would kiss her or hex her. Although, if Hermione had been sitting at the table with him, then he wouldn't have been angry in the first place. He was angry at anybody and everybody, and wanted nothing more than to be alone. He wasn't even sure if he would go to the Burrow the next morning.
Harry was in such a bad mood from the letter that when the knock on the door came, he considered letting whoever it was stand there until they gave up and left. However, something made Harry stand up and walk to the door. He stood there for the longest five seconds of his life, unable to make a move. Finally, he opened the door.
"Harry, I…" Hermione would never finish her sentence.