Same Old Lang Syne

haljordan

Rating: PG13
Genres: Romance
Relationships: Harry & Hermione
Book: Harry & Hermione, Books 1 - 5
Published: 11/12/2005
Last Updated: 18/01/2006
Status: completed

Inspired by a song by Dan Fogelberg. This is a christmas story. Post-Hogwarts. Harry desperately wants to tell Hermione how he feels about her.

Chapters

1. December 17th

2. December 24th

3. December 25th

4. January 31st - Harry

5. January 31st - Hermione

6. February 1st

7. February 2nd

8. September 20th

9. Extra #1: Deleted Chapter

10. Extra #2: Alternate Ending

1. December 17th

Same Old Lang Syne

Author’s Note: Okay, here we go. This is the first story I ever wrote. It’s also, therefore, the first story I will post here. It was inspired by a song by Dan Fogelberg. I know, the first chapter isn’t particularly long, but the chapters will get better.

December 17th

Harry stood outside Flourish and Blotts for what seemed to be the hundredth time. He knew Hermione made a weekly trip there, every Wednesday. He wanted to go in, but couldn’t. Ever since they had graduated from Hogwarts, and, Harry supposed, for years before, Harry knew at some level that he had deep feelings for Hermione. He had also long since suspected that his feelings ran much deeper than those he had harbored for Cho Chang. Harry suspected he was in love with Hermione. He had tried to tell her, but he could never actually gather up enough courage to do so. Somehow, how exactly Harry would never know, he had lost contact with Hermione after graduation. Maybe it had something to do with his fear of her finding out his feelings. He had seen her every now and then, around Diagon Alley, but she had never noticed him, as he tended to keep to the shadows in public places.

“Damn it,” he said softly, bunching his robes up around him as it started to snow. He turned away from Flourish and Blotts, and made his way home.

Reaching his small flat, he closed the door behind him, and hung his coat up by the door. He sat down hard on the couch, holding his head in his hands, images of Hermione playing in his head. He couldn’t escape her, she was all he could think about whenever he wasn’t actively involved in something else. He was miserable, unable to move on with his life. He knew something had to give, or everything would fall apart around him, and he’d be left a homeless, perpetually depressed, broken shell of a man.

You have to tell her, he could imagine Ginny saying to him, during one of his many visits to the Weasley home. It wasn’t hard to imagine, she had told him that more times than he could count. Ginny was the only one who had ever really been able to talk to Harry once he started thinking about Hermione. Even Ron didn’t know what to say. Unable to reconcile telling her with himself, he stretched out on the couch and fell asleep. His dreams were of Hermione.

The next morning, he awoke to a pain in his neck from sleeping in a bad position. He sighed as he sat up, and ran his fingers through his hair. He took a shower, hoping that the noise of the water would drown out his memories of Hermione’s voice, continually playing in his head, but he had no such luck. He dressed and headed off to work. His work as an auror was his best refuge from Hermione. He was able to throw himself into his work, and achieve temporary sanctuary from Hermione plaguing his thoughts. That evening, he left work, and chose to walk home instead of traveling through floo powder or apparation.

“Harry,” said a voice behind him. He turned to see Remus Lupin. He smiled, but it was a forced smile, and Lupin could tell. “Harry, we need to talk,” said Lupin, putting a hand on Harry’s shoulder.

“Okay,” said Harry weakly. He knew what he was going to hear, but he didn’t resist it.

“Harry, you can’t let this haunt you,” said Lupin, walking alongside Harry. “If you let it, it’ll destroy you.”

“I can’t let her go,” said Harry, stopping to look at Lupin. “I love her. I know I do.”

“Then why can’t you tell her?”

“I…I don’t know,” said Harry dejectedly. “Every week I stand outside Flourish and Blotts. I know she’s in there, I just can’t bring myself to go in.”

“Harry, if you don’t find it within yourself to talk to her, the conflict will rip you apart.” He placed a fatherly hand on Harry’s shoulder. “Nobody wants that to happen, Harry. I’m sure Hermione would want you to tell her. She wouldn’t want you to be tearing yourself apart.”

“Okay,” said Harry. “I’ll talk to her.”

“There you go.” Lupin smiled. “I’ll be at the Burrow next Thursday, and not only do I expect to see you there, I also expect to hear that you’ve talked to Hermione.”

“I’ll see you then.” Harry walked away.

2. December 24th

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.

_____________________________________________________________________________

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.

3. December 25th

Same Old Lang Syne

Author’s Note: Well, the response I’ve gotten is overwhelming. I’m really glad all of you appreciated my cliffhanger. To be honest, I was proud of myself for coming up with it. Everybody has been pleading me to update, and I find myself incapable of resisting your cute little smiles! So anyway, here ya go, the moment you’ve all been waiting for! Okay, I’m gonna stop talking and let you get on to the story. You’ve probably skipped this anyway.

December 25th

Harry woke up, in his bed, laying on his side, but didn’t open his eyes. He didn’t dare open his eyes, unsure whether or not everything that had happened the night before had actually happened, or if it had all been a dream. He winced, unsure about whether or not he wanted to know.

“Merry Christmas, Harry,” said a voice behind him. His eyes flew open. A hand touched his arm, and stroked it gently. “How did you sleep?” Harry froze, disbelieving. He fumbled for his glasses on his nightstand, and put them on. Turning, Hermione’s face came into focus, a broad smile on her face. Harry smiled.

“Better than I have in years,” he said, wrapping his arms around Hermione’s waist under the covers. His joy was indescribable, and inexpressible, but Harry had a feeling Hermione could read it in his eyes.

“What are you thinking?” Hermione smiled at Harry, her head resting by his on the pillow.

“Just how beautiful you are, and how lucky I am.” Harry smiled back at her, and gave her a small kiss. He was amazed at how good it felt to smile. He couldn’t remember being as happy as he was for years. Hermione blushed, but smiled nonetheless.

“You’re sweet,” she said, running her hand through his hair and giving him a quick kiss. “I could stay here with you all day.”

“I could too,” said Harry. “But I think Ron would like to see us.”

“I think you’re right.” She sighed. “I guess I should take a shower then.”

“Yeah, I guess so.” Harry pulled Hermione closer to him, and kissed her again, letting the kiss linger.

“Oooh, that’s not fair,” groaned Hermione. “Now I really don’t want to get up.”

“Sorry,” said Harry playfully.

“Yeah, I’ll bet,” said Hermione sarcastically, smiling nevertheless. She got out of bed and headed towards Harry’s bathroom.

“How about that, Potter,” Harry said to himself. “You didn’t mess things up after all.” He sat up, letting his mind wander back to the night before. He hadn’t even let Hermione finish her sentence before sweeping her up into a heated kiss, which she had returned just as passionately. Just thinking about it made Harry smile wildly.

Harry got up, put on his pajamas, and went into the kitchen. He began to fix breakfast. A few minutes later, the entire flat was filled with the scent of pancakes.

“Harry Potter, I didn’t know you could cook.” Hermione leaned on the doorframe in Harry’s bathrobe, smiling. “That smells heavenly.”

“Well, I had to learn how to cook myself. I can eat my own cooking, but I’m not really sure how good it is.” He smiled wryly, and Hermione saw that he actually meant it.

“Oh, Harry, I’m sure it’s excellent. If it tastes half as good as it smells, it’ll be the best breakfast I’ve ever had.”

“Thanks,” said Harry, grinning widely. “Have a seat, they’ll be ready in a minute.” He gestured towards the table, which he had already set.

“I’m very impressed, Harry,” said Hermione. “I’m surprised you didn’t find another girl in all these years.”

“There could never have been anybody but you, Hermione,” said Harry, looking at Hermione sincerely. “I always knew that, on some level, ever since we met.”

“Harry,” said Hermione, smiling. “When we first met, you couldn’t stand me.”

“Only consciously,” said Harry, tapping his temple. “I think I knew, deep down, I just didn’t know it is all.”

“Was it just me, or did that actually make sense,” asked Hermione.

“Well, only partially.” Harry grinned as he took the pan off the stove, turning off the flame. “I guess rehearsing something in your head before you say it is no guarantee of it making sense.” He placed two pancakes on Hermione’s plate, and two on his own. He gestured with his wand, and the pan glided into the sink, where the water turned on, and the pan was left to soak.

“No, it certainly isn’t,” said Hermione. “I speak from experience.”

“What do you mean?” Harry gave Hermione a sideways look. “You never seemed to be lost for the right words.”

“Oh no? How about on the first train ride to Hogwarts?” Hermione blushed. “I seemed to alienate everybody then. And how about all those times I suggested that there was more to life than Quidditch? I think if you hadn’t already been my friend then, you never would have spoken to me again.” She smiled warmly.

“Yeah, well, Ron and I weren’t exactly the most tactful people then either.” Harry blushed.

“Well, Ron was worse,” said Hermione with a nostalgic smile. “You patched things up between us more often than not.” She cut her pancakes and took a bite. “Oh, my, Harry,” she said after she swallowed. “These are fantastic.”

“Thanks.” Harry blushed.

After breakfast, Harry and Hermione talked on the couch, kissing every now and then, whenever the mood struck, until Harry looked up at the clock.

“Oh, darn it,” he said, frowning. “It’s almost noon. I told Ron I’d come by at 12:30.” He stood up. “I have to get dressed.”

“I really should be getting back home if I’m going to get there in time too.” She stood up and took Harry’s hands. “I’ll see you there,” she said, giving Harry a quick kiss. She gathered up her clothes, and walked to the fireplace. Taking a small pouch from within her cloak, she stepped into the fireplace, and dropped a handful of green powder onto the floor. She shouted her destination, but it was obscured by the sound of the green flames enveloping her, and she disappeared. Harry sighed and went into his bedroom to get dressed.

As he finished dressing, he realized that he needed a present for Hermione. Thinking quickly, he gathered all of the pictures he could find of him, Hermione, and Ron, put them in rough order, and stuck them to the pages of an empty photo album he had. He wrapped it carefully and put it in a bag with all of his presents for the Weasleys. Slinging it over his shoulder, he got on his broomstick, picked up his invisibility cloak, opened the window, and, wrapping his invisibility cloak around him and his broom as best he could, jumped out the window, pulling it shut behind him. He took off towards the Burrow, reflecting on how much he preferred flying over floo powder.

Soon, he landed at the front door of the Burrow, pulled off his invisibility cloak, and knocked on the door. Ginny opened the door.

“Hi, Harry,” she said cheerfully, giving him a hug. “Merry Christmas.”

“You too, Gin,” said Harry cheerfully.

“Wow, you’re happier than I’ve seen you in a long time,” Ginny said, looking very surprised. “Harry, did you tell Hermione?” She grabbed his arm in anticipation. As he nodded, smiling, she hugged him again. “Oh, Harry, I’m so happy for you!” She held him at arm’s length. “I take it she said yes?” Harry nodded again, and laughed as Ginny embraced him for the third time.

“Listen, Ginny, could you try not to tell anybody? We want to tell everybody at once.”

“Sure, but you being happy is pretty much a dead giveaway.”

“Well, if they figure it out, they figure it out, but don’t you tell them.” He touched a finger to his lips.

“You got it, Harry.”

“Who is it, Gin,” said Ron, coming into the hallway. “Hey, Harry, how’s it going?”

“Not too bad,” said Harry, trying to look neutral so as not to give away the secret that he and Hermione were together. It worked well on Ron.

“Oh, well then.” Brightening suddenly, Ron clapped a hand on Harry’s shoulder. “Guess what,” he said happily. “I proposed to Sara last night, and she said yes!” Ron had met Sara during their last year at Hogwarts. She was the same height as Ron, and had deep red hair, a much darker shade than the Weasleys.

“That’s terrific, Ron!” Harry smiled. It was a relief to be able to smile. “So where is Sara anyway?”

“She’s in the kitchen, helping Mum.” He nudged Harry with his elbow. “It’s a good thing she can cook, because I certainly didn’t get any of Mum’s skills.” Harry heard Ginny laugh behind him, and saw Ron give her a dark look.

“Ron tried cooking dinner a few weeks ago, and nearly burned down the house,” Ginny whispered into Harry’s ear. Harry tried desperately not to laugh, with little success. Ron frowned.

“It’s okay, Ron,” chuckled Harry. “We all have our weaknesses.”

“Yeah, I suppose so,” said Ron reluctantly, still embarrassed. “Anyway, come in and have a drink.”

Harry followed Ron and Ginny into the living room, and put his bag down with his invisibility cloak on top. He saw Lupin talking to Arthur Weasley, and as he entered, they both stood up. Remus approached him.

“Well, now, Harry,” he said, shaking Harry’s hand. “Did you tell her?” Remus whispered. Harry nodded. “And…” he said, waiting for Harry to fill in the blank.

“I’ll tell you about it later,” said Harry softly, and Remus’s face fell.

“Listen, Harry, I’m sorry about the letter,” Remus said quietly.

“It’s okay,” said Harry, waving it off. “Really, it’s fine.”

“Okay.” Unconvinced, Remus sat down again with Arthur, and they resumed their discussion, Remus occasionally looking back at Harry, a concerned look on his face.

“Wait,” said Ginny, stopping Harry from sitting down. She waved her wand at the chair he was going to sit on, and the top exploded. Ginny shook her head, annoyed. “Fred and George have been booby-trapping the seats. I sat down this morning and nearly got thrown across the room.”

“Where are Fred and George, anyway?” Harry looked around.

“Oh, I don’t know,” said Ginny, unconcerned. “They’re around somewhere. I think they’re upstairs.”

“Hi, Harry,” said Sara, walking into the room.

“Ron told me, Sara, congratulations.” Harry kissed Sara on the cheek, and she gave him a hug.

“Thanks, Harry,” she said, sitting down.

“Sara, wait!” Ginny tried to stop Sara from sitting down, but was too late. No sooner had Sara touched the chair than she was across the room with a loud crack. The chair had made her Apparate across the room. She sat down hard on the floor.

“Oof,” she said, after she hit the ground. There were two more loud cracks, and Fred and George appeared on either side of Sara. They helped her up.

“It’s about time,” said George.

“We were beginning to think nobody else would sit down,” said Fred. He looked around, and, seeing a lack of pranked people, shot a dark look at Ginny. “That’s cheating, Gin,” he said, frowning.

“Yeah, well, I landed hard,” shot back Ginny.

“Aw, you’re fine,” said George dismissively. “Sara, wasn’t that funny?”

“Yeah, it was actually,” said Sara, blushing. “I like practical jokes, though.”

“You have no idea what you’ve just unleashed upon yourself, Sara,” said Ginny, frowning.

“Oh, I’m not worried,” replied Sara cheerfully. “I don’t think Fred or George would want to get me mad, would they?” She gave Fred and George meaningful looks, and both of them smiled nervously. Sara walked across the room and sat back down on the defused seat across from Harry.

Just then, green flames emerged in the fireplace, and Hermione stepped out of them.

“Hi, everybody,” she said cheerfully. Everybody in the room tried very hard not to look at Harry.

“Hi, Hermione,” said Harry, standing up. He gave Hermione a quick kiss and smiled. Looking around the room, he saw a room full of very confused people, all except Ginny, who smiled to herself. Remus was the first one to realize, and he smiled broadly. Everybody else in the room soon put two and two together. They were congratulated in turn by everybody in the room, and Charlie, Bill, and Molly were called in from other rooms to be told.

“Excuse me for a second,” said Sara, standing up once all the congratulations had been issued. She walked out into the kitchen, and tripped over Harry’s bag, which was covered by his invisibility cloak. Harry was up and helping Sara up in a flash.

“I’m so sorry,” he said, pulling Sara up off the ground.

“That’s okay, Harry,” she said, laughing. “It’s just a shame you hadn’t done it on purpose. That would have made a great practical joke.”

“Harry, you’re almost worthy of us,” said Fred, making his way over to Harry and shaking his hand, after showing there was no trick.

“Fred, I’m sorry, but I think Harry’s was funnier,” said Sara.

“What? Why?”

“His was by accident. Accidents are always funnier.”

“Shoot. Oy, George, we got trumped by an accident!”

“I think I’d better get out of here now,” said Harry, smiling.

“Accident, indeed,” grumbled Fred, stalking over to the other side of the room to rejoin his twin.

“I think it’s time we exchanged presents,” said Harry cheerfully. “I already have my bag, so I’ll start.” He smiled and sat back down in his chair. He pulled a very long package out of his bag that, under normal circumstances, could not have possibly fit in a bag that size, but Harry had enlarged the inside of the bag by several times. He tossed the package to Sara, who caught it, but just barely.

“For me?” Sara looked very surprised. Harry nodded. She opened it, and she pulled a Nimbus Two-Thousand and One out of the wrappings.

“Now you should be able to keep up with Ron in Quidditch. Even up the odds a bit.” Harry smiled.

“Wow, thanks, Harry,” said Sara. She kissed Harry on the cheek.

“Ron, catch!” Harry threw a box at Ron, who caught it deftly. “Well, that’s good to know, at least you can catch, King Weasley.” Harry laughed.

“Hey, this is great, Harry, thanks!” Ron said as he opened up a pair of insulated Keeper’s gloves.

“Keep you nice and warm out there.” Harry turned to Ginny, and handed her a large box. She opened it and took out a Quaffle, engraved with her name.

“Thanks, Harry, this’ll be great to practice with.” She hugged Harry.

“Fred, George, you two have to open these together.” He threw two identical packages, one to each of them. They looked at each other, shrugged, and opened the packages, which promptly exploded. Harry laughed, and so did everybody else in the room. “I’ve owed you that a couple of times over,” said Harry, still laughing. Fred and George started laughing as well.

Harry gave Arthur Weasley a magnifying glass, and he spent the rest of the day looking at things through it, astounded. Molly Weasley got a book on healing spells. Bill got an enchanted lock from Harry which will only open for whoever locks it. Harry gave Charlie a book on treating burns. Harry gave Lupin a new invisibility cloak.

“And now for you,” said Harry, turning to Hermione. He handed her the book he had wrapped, and when she saw what it was, she almost broke Harry’s ribs, she hugged him so hard.

“Thank you so much, Harry,” she said.

“You’re welcome,” he said, smiling and nursing his ribs. Hermione handed him a package, and, opening it, he pulled out a long cloak.

“It has plenty of pockets on the inside, and it’ll keep you warm or cool, depending on the weather.” Harry kissed her on the cheek, and she beamed at him.

They continued to exchange gifts until everybody was finished, and they sat and talked for hours afterwards. Harry got a regulation Snitch from the entire Weasley family, and he got very choked up. A regulation Snitch cost much more than the kind used at Hogwarts.

Late that night, they all departed, Harry using floo powder to get back to his flat, because he was feeling too tired to fly. A couple of minutes after he got back, Hermione emerged from his fireplace.

“I just wanted to drop off my things before I came back here,” she said, hugging Harry.

“I’m glad you liked the picture album,” said Harry.

“I loved it,” said Hermione. “And there’s still plenty of room for more pictures.”

“There always will be,” said Harry. “It’ll never run out of space, no matter how many pictures you put in.”

“You’re very sweet,” said Hermione, and kissed Harry.

“So are you,” returned Harry, smiling broadly.

4. January 31st - Harry

Same Old Lang Syne

Author’s Note: Hi, all. I’m really really sorry that it’s taken me so long to actually update this. The holiday season is, of course, a hellishly busy time, and this thing I do is a very private thing, I can only do it when I’m alone, and I just realized you don’t really care, do you? So anyway, here the story takes, shall we say, a rather different track. It made a transfer to a different train, and went in a new direction! Okay, that’s enough subway references. I’m done now, here’s the story, and more will be up as soon as possible, possibly as early as a couple of days from now. Again, sorry it’s been so long.

January 31st –Harry

Harry, already up and dressed, shook Hermione’s shoulder lightly. She stirred, opened her eyes, and, seeing Harry, smiled.

“I have to go, Hermione,” he said softly. “Hedwig just came with an urgent assignment. I’m sorry.” He kissed Hermione on the cheek, and headed towards the fireplace.

“Hurry back,” said Hermione softly. Harry turned and smiled at her. With a flash of green flames, he was gone.

“Hey, Ron, you ready to go?” Harry emerged from the fireplace at the Burrow and brushed the soot off his new cloak. Ginny was the only one in the room, sitting on the couch in her pajamas. She started in surprise when Harry came out of the fireplace.

“Harry,” she began, confused. “What are you doing here?”

“I got a letter for an urgent assignment about twenty minutes ago,” said Harry, looking around. “Where’s Ron?”

“He was just down here a minute ago, muttering something about Pig having lousy timing. He’s probably back up in his room now.”

“Thanks, Ginny. Can I wait down here?”

“Sure, have a seat.” She patted the couch next to her, and Harry sat down. “So what is this ‘urgent assignment’ of yours?”

“Bellatrix Lestrange is at large. Ron and I are to bring her in.”

“Lestrange? They told you to bring her in?” Ginny’s eyes widened. “I thought they couldn’t give assignments like that to people with personal experiences with the targets.”

“Under normal circumstances, they can’t,” said Harry. “But they don’t think anyone else can bring her in.”

“I still don’t like it,” grumbled Ginny. “Listen, you be careful, alright Harry?”

“I will be,” said Harry. “I’m not letting my guard down for a second.”

“Good,” said Ginny, hugging him.

“Hi, Harry, you ready to get going?” Ron came down the stairs, closely followed by Sara, who had the distinct look of somebody who had just thrown their pajamas on.

“Morning, Harry,” said Sara, making a big show of yawning. She sat down on Ginny’s other side. “It’s a shame you two have to work on Saturday.”

“Yeah, well, such is the life of an Auror,” said Ron, kissing Sara on the cheek. “See you later, honey,” he said as he followed Harry out the door.

“Okay, Ron,” said Harry seriously. “Lestrange was last sighted in Hogsmeade, so that’s where we’ll start.”

“Got it.” Ron smiled grimly. “I’ll drive,” he joked, as they both vanished with two loud cracks.

The sight that awaited them in Hogsmeade was horrible. There were smoking craters everywhere, and as many craters as there were, there were almost as many bodies. Ron quickly ran to check for a pulse from the nearest body, but Harry didn’t bother. He already knew what he would find. Except for a few survivors in the Post Office which Harry saw huddling through a window, the entire village was devastated.

“Dead,” said Ron, scowling.

“They’re all dead,” said Harry angrily. “She knew we were coming. She’s sending us a message.” He pulled his wand out, and Ron quickly did the same. “We know you’re here, Lestrange! Come out and face us!”

Suddenly, from a broken window nearby, Harry heard a voice yell “Crucio!”

“Protego,” shouted Harry, and the stone of a building wall cracked under the ricochet of the Cruciatus Curse.

“Come out and face us Lestrange, you coward!” Ron yelled at the window.

“What makes you think it’s just me?” Lestrange emerged from the building, wand drawn and pointed straight at Harry’s heart. “Do you really think I’d be so foolish as to take on two Aurors on my own?”

“Careful, Ron, it could be a trick,” called Harry, and neither of them moved an inch.

“It’s no trick,” came an arrogant drawl from just inside the door of the building from which Bellatrix Lestrange had emerged.

“Malfoy,” growled Harry, his face contorting into a scowl.

“What’s the matter, Potter,” drawled Draco Malfoy, walking out into the open, his wand pointed at Harry as well. “Didn’t expect two of us?”

“I didn’t think you had the guts to come out of hiding, Malfoy,” shot back Harry angrily.

“Enough of this pointless banter,” screamed Lestrange. “Avada Kedavra!” She swung her wand around at Ron, who leaped out of the way, the wall behind him exploding.

“Impedimenta,” yelled Harry, and Lestrange flew backwards, hit her head on a piece of rubble, and lay still.

“Worthless,” muttered Malfoy as he picked up Lestrange’s wand, and began hurling curses at both Harry and Ron with both wands. The pavement below Ron’s feet exploded, and he was thrown into a wall, where he fell, clutching his wand arm, which was broken by the wall, his hand a mass of shattered bones. Malfoy muttered the Cruciatus Curse at Ron, who passed out.

“And now, Potter, you die,” Malfoy shouted.

“We’ll see, won’t we?” A grim smile crossed Harry’s face. He knew he was faster than Malfoy, but with two wands, Malfoy had the advantage, and both of them knew it. Malfoy was able to send any curse in two different directions, an advantage he did not hesitate to exploit. Harry screamed in agony as he was hit by a double Cruciatus Curse, finding it harder and harder to dodge even one of Malfoy’s curses.

“Die!” Malfoy screamed savagely as a dark green light shot from Lestrange’s wand and hit Harry. Harry vanished in a billowing cloud of smoke, his wand falling to the ground.

“Harry! Nooo!” Ron had revived just in time to see Harry disappear. He picked up his own wand with his good arm and began hurling curses at Malfoy.

“You’re too pathetic to bother with, Weasley,” laughed Malfoy as he shot a disdainful look around him, at the unconscious Lestrange, and finally at Ron. He disappeared with a loud crack.

Ron checked Lestrange, making sure she was securely bound, scrawled a quick note to the Ministry of Magic awkwardly with his left hand, and walked into the Hogsmeade Post Office, where the survivors had been taking refuge.

“Somebody mail this to the Ministry,” he said gruffly, slamming the note down on a table. He didn’t even wait around to make sure it was mailed. He walked right out, kneeled down at the crater where Harry had disappeared, and let loose the tears that he had been trying desperately to hold back. He picked up Harry’s wand when he was able to compose himself, put it in his robes, and stood, waiting for his support to arrive.

When it did, he only waited around long enough for his arm to be healed. When the Mediwizard told him he was done, he disapparated.

5. January 31st - Hermione

Same Old Lang Syne

Author’s Note: Hey, pholks. I’ve been getting a lot of comments in your reviews about the suspense I’m putting into the story. Well, I just wanted to say that the reason for this is that I am a very big fan of the cliffhanger. I love reading stories with them, I love watching TV shows with them, and I love writing stories with them. In fact, I know something about cliffhangers which may catch your interest, seeing as how you’ve been seeing so many of them this story. The term cliffhanger comes from the old serials, when a show would play once a week in a movie theatre, like the old Batman shows, and one of the most common endings of an episode was to have either the hero (i.e. Batman), or somebody else (i.e. Robin) in great peril. The most popular type of mortal peril was to have the character literally hanging off a cliff. Thus, the term cliffhanger. Now, I hope you enjoy the coming chapter. It’s short, I know, but the next one will be forthcoming soon.

January 31st –Hermione

Hearing a knock on the door, Hermione looked up from her book. She put it aside and went to open the door. In the doorway stood Ron, his eyes red. He had obviously been crying.

“Ron, what’s wrong?” Hermione put her hand on Ron’s shoulder, ushering him inside.

“Hermione,” he rasped. “I am so sorry, I did everything I could.”

“Ron,” said Hermione, her heart beginning to race. “Please, just tell me what’s wrong. You’re scaring me.”

“Harry,” began Ron, but the was unable to complete his sentence. He handed Harry’s wand to Hermione.

“I don’t understand,” she said softly, taking Harry’s wand. “Why are you giving me…” Her eyes widened in realization, then shock. Harry’s wand clattered to the floor as Hermione gasped, her hands flying up to her mouth. “Harry,” she whispered. “No…” Tears began to flow freely down her cheeks. Her knees gave way, and she began to fall, but Ron caught her. “Harry,” she sobbed.

“I’m so sorry, Hermione,” said Ron softly. He guided Hermione to the couch, and they sat down. He tried to fight back tears as he held Hermione, who was sobbing into his shoulder. In the end, however, he couldn’t stop them any more than Hermione could. Before too long, Hermione had cried herself to sleep, the occasional sob still wracking her body.

Another knock came on the door, and Ron stood up, leaning Hermione back onto the couch gently. He opened the door, drying his eyes, and before him stood Alastor Moody.

“I’m sorry, Weasley,” he said. “It’s never easy to lose a partner.” His magical eye swiveled to look into the apartment. “How did she take it?”

“Pretty hard,” said Ron, looking back at Hermione. “It’s understandable though. I still can’t believe it. I mean, they just really found each other, and now, this. I should have killed Malfoy for this.”

“Have you told your family yet?”

“No. How can I? Harry was like a brother to me, and I know he was like family to all of us. How can I tell my parents that he’s dead? He was like another son to them.” He leaned up against the wall, his head in his hands.

“They deserve to know, and it would be best if they heard it from you,” said Moody, placing a stabilizing hand on Ron’s shoulder.

“Yeah, you’re right, but that doesn’t make it any easier.”

“Nothing can make it easier, Weasley, you just have to say it.”

“Could you at least come with me? For support?” Moody nodded solemnly. Ron checked on Hermione briefly. “She’ll be okay, just give me a second to leave her a note.” Ron scrawled a quick note on a spare bit of parchment on the table. Leaving and closing the door quietly behind them, so as not to wake Hermione, they apparated to the Burrow.

A few minutes later, Hermione woke up with a sob. Through her tears, she read Ron’s note. Deciding she didn’t want to be alone, Hermione traveled to the Burrow via Floo powder. By that time, Ron had already told them, and Hermione was expected. No sooner had she arrived than Ginny had brought her to the couch, given her a cup of hot tea, and sat by her, along with Molly, lending silent support. Arthur was still at the Ministry, and would have been notified already. Sara sat slumped in a chair, her head in her hands. Fred leaned against the wall, holding his forehead, still trying to process the information. George sat hunched over in a chair, his head hung in grief. Moody had long since left, as social situations of any kind were to Moody as the desert is to fish. Everybody in the room was trying to reach beyond the emptiness they were all feeling, but nobody quite knew how.

6. February 1st

Same Old Lang Syne

Author’s Note: I am so sorry I’ve been letting you all hang like this. Things got really really busy for me, and I’ve barely had time to think. After New Year’s Eve, I went with my best friends and my cousin to Pennsylvania to ski, so I had no time there, and then my cousin took a bad fall and sprained her knee, so she couldn’t drive home, so she’s been staying with us. I’m really sorry about this. I’ll do my very best not to let it happen again. Again, I’m really sorry. This is the best response I’ve ever gotten to any of my work, and I have to say, I’m absolutely thrilled that so many of you are enjoying this story.

February 1st

Harry sat up. The dirt was cold and hard beneath him. He rubbed his forehead instinctually. His scar felt as if he had run into a brick wall face-first. The last thing he remembered was the fight with Malfoy, and a dark green light.

“Wait a second,” he said to himself. “Dark green?” He looked around. He didn’t feel dead, and the killing curse produced a bright green light. “Lestrange’s wand,” he said silently. “Using her wand must have made something go wrong.”

He stood up and took a look around. He seemed to be in the middle of a farm. He reached inside his robes for his wand, but he couldn’t find it. He set out towards the nearest hill, hoping to find somebody.

After walking for over half an hour, Harry finally found somebody.

“Excuse me, sir,” he said, getting the man’s attention. “Where is this?”

“Jonesboro,” said the man, looking Harry up and down cautiously. “Jonesboro, Georgia. Say, are you British?”

“Yes,” said Harry simply. “That’ll put me in America, then,” he muttered to himself.

“Well, of course you’re in America,” said the man, obviously surprised. “What kinda weirdo are you, anyway?”

“Never mind that,” said Harry dismissively. “Could you tell me where the nearest city is?”

“Atlanta’s about 17 miles north of here,” said the man, eyeing Harry suspiciously.

“Thanks.” Harry paused. “Could you give me the time? I seem to have lost my watch.”

“It’s four-thirty,” said the man, obviously beginning to wonder why Harry was asking him what he saw as very strange questions.

“Thanks,” said Harry, looking up at the sky to get the direction. Once he had his bearings, he began to walk north, leaving the man scratching his head behind him.

About four hours later, Harry passed a sign that said “Welcome to Atlanta.” Once he found a bench, he sat down and tried to think. He had no muggle money, least of all American muggle money. He didn’t know anybody in the states. He didn’t have his wand, and he didn’t have his broomstick. He couldn’t think of any way he could possibly get home. He sighed deeply. He couldn’t even tell Hermione he was alright.

“There’s got to be a way home,” said Harry to himself. “I know there’s a magical community here in America, but I have no way to find them.” He tried to think. “Let’s see,” he said to himself. “I think I remember Moody saying something about a small wizarding community in New York City. Maybe I should make my way there and try to find them.” He stood up, stopped the nearest passerby, and asked for directions to New York. He was told to go to Hartsfield International Airport. Upon asking how to get there, Harry got a strange look, and directions.

“Now all I have to do is get some money,” Harry muttered, sitting down again. Soon his mind began to wander back home, to Hermione and what she must be going through. Harry felt a burst of determination and stood up. As an Auror, he was taught methods of hypnotism which would be very effective on muggles. He didn’t like the idea, but he needed to get home, or at least to New York City. He caught the eye of a passerby, and motioned that he wanted to speak to her. She came over, and he ‘convinced’ her to give him some money. He didn’t ask for much. He didn’t want to be greedy, and he didn’t want to take all of the money anybody had. He was forced to do this many times, to many different people, so that he wouldn’t have to take too much from any one person.

Finally, Harry suspected he had enough money to get him to New York City. He followed the directions he was given, and, upon arrival at the airport, went directly to the nearest counter and asked for a one-way ticket to New York City. He was given the ticket, but the woman behind the counter looked very nervous. As he walked away, the woman signaled to a security officer, who approached Harry cautiously.

“Excuse me, sir, would you please come with me?” The officer took hold of Harry’s arm.

“Okay,” said Harry warily. “But would you mind taking your hand off me.” He spoke in his most intimidating voice, and the security officer immediately let go of his arm. Harry followed him to a small room, where he was asked to sit down. “What’s going on,” asked Harry.

“Just a security precaution,” said the officer.

“Great,” muttered Harry. “I’m going to miss my flight.”

“Don’t worry, sir, this shouldn’t take long.”

An hour later, Harry walked out of the small room, feeling extremely annoyed. He had been searched in every single way possible. When nothing dangerous had been found on him, the security officer looked very embarrassed, but said nothing, except that Harry could go. He looked up at the departure board. His flight was scheduled to leave in five minutes. Harry ran to the gate, just as they were about to close the door.

“Wait!” Harry yelled, running towards the door. The man stopped, opened the door, and checked his ticket. Harry was allowed onto the plane, and as he took his seat, he sighed. “This has been a great day,” he muttered gloomily. “First I’m thrown across an entire ocean, into the middle of nowhere, then I have to beg for enough money to get to New York, and finally, I’m searched for an hour for no apparent reason. It just can’t get any worse.” The expression of the person sitting next to Harry could only be described as extremely freaked out.

“I’m a writer,” said Harry quickly, giving the man a very fake smile. This seemed to be enough for the man, who nodded. However, Harry had to spend the next hour and a half answering questions about writing (most of which he made up the answers to) and having to listen to stupid ideas for stories from the man, who apparently fancied himself to be an amateur writer.

Finally, upon exiting the plane, Harry went straight to the area for pickup for the airport shuttle, as directed by many signs posted all over the airport. He told the driver he wanted to go to Times Square. He figured that if there were any place he’d be able to find somebody from a wizarding community, his best chance would be in a highly populated area.

Harry got off the shuttle in front of Port Authority. Immediately he was accosted by a tall, large man with blue eyes, and who was about Harry’s height.

“What are you doing, dressed like that in front of all these muggles,” hissed the man. “Do you want to expose us?”

“Listen,” said Harry, obviously relieved. “I need to talk to you.”

“Okay, but not here.” He turned around, looking for somebody. “Hey, Norma, come here!”

The three of them went into a small hole in the side of a building which opened up before them automatically, but which nobody else seemed to notice.

“What do you think you’re doing,” asked the man seriously.

“Devin,” said the woman who had been identified as Norma. “I think this is Harry Potter.”

“It doesn’t matter who it is, Norma. We can’t risk exposure. Now, given, Times Square is definitely a place where people expect to see oddities, but you know very well how hard it is to modify the memory of everybody who sees something odd in New York City. If one person who is considered reliable makes a connection, we risk complete and total exposure. Norma, this is not something I want on my head!”

“Can I say something,” said Harry, growing impatient.

“Alright,” said the man named Devin, taking a deep breath.

“I have no other clothes,” said Harry, gesturing at his lack of a bag. “I did not come here voluntarily. I was sent here by what I believe was a spell gone wrong, and I have every reason to believe that everybody I know believes me to be dead. All I want is to get back home, or, failing that, get word back home that I am, indeed, still very much alive. My partner’s family, which has all but adopted me, is going through a nightmare which I was told they were afraid of for all the years they’ve known me. My girlfriend, who, by the way, I am getting ready to propose to, in thinking that I’m dead not two months after we got together, must be aging years at a time. Now, will you please help me out?” Harry sighed. “I’m sorry, I’ve had a very bad day.”

“That’s perfectly understandable,” said Devin. “The only problem is that there are currently storms all over the ocean right now, so sending word is, for the most part, impossible. Sending you home, however, is a different matter.” He turned to Norma. “You know more about this than I do, Norma. Muggle relations is more your field than mine.”

“Okay,” said Norma, stepping forward. “This is easy enough. All we have to do is get you some muggle clothing and get you on a plane back to England. From there I’m sure you can take care of yourself.”

“Easily,” said Harry, relieved that something was finally being done to help him.

Within three hours, Harry was sitting in the terminal at J.F.K. airport, waiting for his flight to begin boarding. Devin and Norma were waiting with him. As his boarding call came over the speaker, Harry stood up and shook their hands.

“Thanks,” he said, smiling. “You know, I’ve heard about you two. I’ve heard you’re the American versions of Ron and myself.” He turned to Devin. “And I’ve heard you’ve got my way with a wand,” he said, grinning widely. “I hope to meet both of you again sometime under better circumstances.”

“Me too,” said Devin, pumping his hand again. “Good luck, Harry.”

“Good luck,” said Norma, shaking his hand again.

Once aboard the plane, Harry was unfortunate enough to learn that he had to sit next to a muggle who reminded him disturbingly of Lockhart, who availed Harry of all of his adventures in the field of paranormal investigation. Not only was Harry convinced that half of the stories were embellished, to say the least, but he was aching to tell the man that each and every one of the things the man claimed to have done, Harry actually had, and with considerably more success. Finally, Harry managed to silence the man by pretending to fall asleep.

By the time Harry disembarked at Heathrow airport, it was two o’clock in the morning, London time. Harry sat down in the airport to try to figure out how he was going to get home.

“This has been the single longest day in my life,” he said to himself.

After a few minutes, he stood and walked to the exit. It would be a simple matter to acquire transportation to London, where Harry could make his way to the Ministry. From there it would be easy. Arriving at the door to go outside, Harry observed that it was pouring outside.

“It would have to be raining, wouldn’t it,” muttered Harry, stepping out of the airport. However, despite the weather, and his perceived temperament, Harry was happier than he’d been in what seemed like a very long time. He was almost home.

Harry boarded a bus to London, his bag with his robes in hand. Fortunately, he did not have to share his seat with anybody, and for a small part of his traveling time, Harry was blessed with peace.

Finally, he arrived in London, and entered the phone booth that would allow him access. He punched in 6-2-4-4-2 on the keypad, said that his business was arriving home, and the phone booth descended into the Ministry lobby. Soon, after having sufficiently proven that he was indeed himself, Harry met with a very serious looking witch named Naomi, who recommended that instead of sending word that he was safe with an owl, which would not be received until morning, that Harry stay in the Ministry for another few hours, get some sleep, and then go home. Harry reluctantly agreed, but only on the basis that he was extremely tired, and could use any sleep he could get.

7. February 2nd

Same Old Lang Syne

Author’s Note: Hey, pholks. I’m sorry I haven’t had a chance to respond to all of your reviews lately, but I’ll get on that ASAP. I’m going to be out of town for a little while starting Thursday, and I won’t be able to post or do much of anything at all, really. I’m starting to close this up, though, so I should be able to get the rest of the story out before I leave. This is short, and the last chapter will probably be short too.

February 2nd

Ginny roused Hermione out of bed with great difficulty. The Weasleys had insisted that Hermione stay with them, and Hermione was too devastated to argue, so she was put up in Ginny’s old room, where Ginny was also staying. In the end, Ginny was forced to enlist Sara’s help to get Hermione out of bed.

“Come on, Hermione,” said Sara, as she and Ginny literally lifted Hermione out of bed. “You have to get out of bed sometime. Besides, a little breakfast could help you feel a bit better.”

“I seriously doubt that,” said Hermione gloomily.

“Well, at least come downstairs with us,” said Ginny. “We won’t force you, but I really think you should at least come down.”

“Okay,” said Hermione, surrendering.

A few minutes later, when everybody was gathered around the kitchen table, there was a loud screech that sounded suspiciously like a car braking.

“I’ll check it out,” said Sara, standing up. She began to walk towards the door, but Ron stopped her.

“I should check it out,” he said, drawing his wand. “Malfoy knows I used to live here. He could have come after me.” He walked past Sara, who looked concerned, and towards the door carefully. He opened the door, and nearly fell over in the shock of seeing Harry standing there, soaking wet.

“Hi, Ron,” he said simply.

“Merlin’s Beard,” Ron whispered, his face a mask of disbelief. “It can’t be.”

“It’s really me,” said Harry. “Can I come in? I’m getting even wetter, which I didn’t think was possible a few minutes ago.”

“If you’re Harry,” said Ron carefully. “Then you’ll know who first financed Fred and George’s joke shop.”

“That was me,” said Harry. “I gave them the money I won from the Triwizard Tournament.”

Ron’s response was simple. “How?”

“It’s a long story,” said Harry. “Can I come in first?”

“Yeah…sure,” said Ron quietly, still in shock.

“Ron,” said Sara from the hallway, walking towards the door. “Who is…” She gasped and her hands flew up to her mouth in shock. “Harry…?” she whispered through her hands. Harry simply nodded. Sara leaned against the wall weakly.

“We have to get Hermione out here,” said Ron. “She thinks you’re…well, you know.”

“Ron, wait,” said Harry. “I don’t want to overwhelm her. You have to tell her before she sees me.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. This has to be done right, so we don’t overwhelm her.” Harry went into the sitting room. Sara followed Harry into the sitting room, where he would briefly tell her what happened.

“Hermione, can I talk to you for a minute out here,” said Ron, poking his head into the kitchen.

“Sure,” she said, standing up slowly.

“Hermione,” began Ron as they walked into the hall. “This is one of the strangest things I have ever had to do.”

“What’s going on here, Ron,” asked Hermione impatiently.

“Harry’s alive, Hermione. I don’t know exactly what happened, but he’s alive, and he’s here.”

“How dare you,” hissed Hermione, her face contorting into an expression of fury. “How dare you insult Harry’s memory with this sick joke! You have been one of my best friends for the better part of my life, Ron, but this has got to be the most tasteless thing you have ever even conceived of saying. If I had my wand right now, I’d…”

“Hermione, wait,” said Harry, stepping out into the hall. Hermione’s expression quickly turned from fury into shock.

“Harry? How?” Hermione’s voice came out in a croak.

“It’s a long story,” said Harry. “Come on, sit down, I’ll tell you about it.” He gestured into the sitting room. Hermione went in and sat down by Sara.

“Hey, Ron,” said Fred, emerging into the hallway. “What’s going on out here?”

“Fred, I’ll explain everything later,” said Ron. “Just go and sit down for now.”

“Okay,” replied Fred, shrugging.

“That was absurdly easy,” said Ron to himself. He looked down, and there was a small flesh-colored string on the floor. He sighed, pulled the other end to him, cupped it to his mouth, and screamed into it. Fred bolted out into the hall, clutching his ear, obviously enraged.

“Where do you get off?!” he screamed at Ron.

“I said I’d explain later, Fred,” said Ron, annoyed. “If you had actually listened to me, I wouldn’t have had to do that.”

“Fine,” grumbled Fred. “But you’d better watch where you sit down for awhile, Ron.” Still holding his ear, Fred stormed back into the kitchen.

“Git,” muttered Ron, walking into the sitting room. He sat across from Harry, who had apparently been waiting for him to start. Sara and Hermione looked anxiously at Harry.

“Okay,” began Harry with a sigh. “It started with our mission to apprehend Bellatrix Lestrange.” He proceeded to tell them about every step of his journey. At the end, he sat back with a sigh.

“Oh, Harry,” said Hermione, reaching over and hugging Harry. “I’m so glad you’re okay.”

“It’s great to have you back, Harry,” said Sara with a big smile. “You gave us all a big scare.”

“Well, I wasn’t too happy about the matter either,” Harry replied.

After awhile, the rest of the Weasley family, and Lupin as well, were told, one at a time. By the time Ron asking people individually to come talk to him became suspicious, they were more than halfway done, and Ron was able to pacify everybody else with a promise that all would be explained in time.

After everybody was told, Harry asked for a few minutes alone with Hermione. Everybody else obligingly filed out.

“Hermione,” he said, sighing deeply. “I’ve been through a lot the past couple of days, and I know you have too. All that I’ve been through has shown me that you’re the one for me. When I was stranded in the middle of nowhere, I was thinking about you. When I fell asleep on the plane, I was dreaming about you.” He smiled grimly. “I’m sorry I can’t do this right,” he said, getting out of his chair and kneeling in front of her. He saw her eyes tear up as she realized what he was doing. “Hermione, will you marry me?”

8. September 20th

Same Old Lang Syne

Author’s Note: Okay, everybody. This rounds out the end of the story. After I get back (probably Monday or Tuesday), I’ll post two extra things I have ready for you. The first thing I’ll post is a chapter I had originally written for the story, but then decided it was going in a direction I wasn’t really happy with. I still think it’s a good chapter though, so it’ll go up for you to enjoy. The other thing is an alternative ending I wrote at one point. But here’s the last part of the actual story. I’m absolutely flabbergasted that I got so much response from you, my readers, and I’m very grateful for all of your kind comments, and the constructive criticism was also much appreciated.

September 20th

“Harry, I’m home,” said Hermione, walking into the front hall of 12 Grimmauld Place, which had been Lupin’s wedding gift. It was all cleared out, even the portrait of Sirius’ mother was gone.

“Hi there,” said Harry, walking into the hall, smiling. He kissed Hermione tenderly. “Feeling better?”

“Much better,” she said, smiling.

“What did the doctor say?”

“What do you think he said, Mister Potter?” Hermione grinned widely. Harry’s face lit up.

“Hermione, I can’t believe it!” He swept her up in his arms and kissed her. “We’ve got to tell Ron,” he said quickly, and put Hermione down. He ran upstairs to send Hedwig to the Burrow, telling Arthur and Molly to get everybody together. Hermione stood in the hall, shaking her head and grinning. She took her coat off, hung it up, and went into the sitting room to sit down. She waited patiently for Harry to return. He did so very promptly, running down the stairs, into the sitting room, and sitting down next to Hermione, a very wide grin splitting his face.

“We should hear from them soon,” he said.

Sure enough, about twenty minutes later, Hedwig tapped on the window to the sitting room. Harry let her in, and she gave him a letter scrawled in Arthur Weasley’s handwriting.

Harry,

We’ll have everybody here at the Burrow in about an hour or so. We’ll see you then.”

Arthur

An hour later, Harry and Hermione stepped into the fireplace and were soon at the Burrow. They walked into the sitting room, where all the Weasleys were assembled. Sara sat next to Ron. She was four months pregnant with hers and Ron’s son, who would be named after Harry. Lupin stood leaning on the wall. Harry and Hermione sat next to each other on the couch.

“Well, what’s going on?” Ron, of course, was the first to pipe up.

“Well, should I tell them, or do you want to tell them?” Harry looked at Hermione.

“You tell them,” said Hermione, looking as though she couldn’t even talk, she was smiling so much.

“Would somebody please tell us?” Ron looked exasperated.

“Okay,” said Harry. “Ron, you’ve been like a brother to both of us, and we were wondering if you’d like to be a godfather.”

Ron looked stunned. “You mean you’re…?”

“Yes,” said Hermione, beaming. “I’m pregnant.”

On April 10th, Lily Ginevra Potter and James Ronald Potter were born. Lily inherited her father’s skills in Defense against the Dark Arts, his green eyes, and her mother’s brown hair. James inherited his mother’s intelligence, and his father’s green eyes and unruly black hair. The two of them would eventually attend Hogwarts, both as Gryffindors, and their exploits would become as legendary as those of their parents. They would both end up playing Quidditch for their house, James excelling as chaser, and Lily as seeker, her skills second only to those of her father. Ron’s son Harry would also end up playing for the team, and he would defend Gryffindor’s goals better than any previous keeper. When Harry, Lily, and James learned of the legacy of the Marauders, they decided to follow in their footsteps. The three learned to be animagi at an incredibly young age, their third year, and were registered by Albus Dumbledore, retired former Headmaster of Hogwarts. Lily would choose an owl, Harry a cat, and James, as a tribute to his grandfather, chose a stag.

9. Extra #1: Deleted Chapter

Same Old Lang Syne

Author’s Note: I’m back from Florida, all! And I now give you the first extra little goodie I have for you. This was a chapter I had originally written for the story, but when I finished it, I realized it was taking the story in a slightly different direction than I really wanted to go. So I didn’t post it, but I kept it, because, well, I liked it. It’s possible that if I ever write a story in which it will fit, I’ll put it in, or maybe I’ll write a story around it. Who knows? But at any rate, you get to enjoy it now.

December 31st

Everybody returned to the Burrow for New Year’s Eve. Harry, Ron, and Hermione volunteered to cook dinner, although it took some doing to convince Molly to let them. Harry had to promise her that Ron wouldn’t have to do anything that involved heating anything. In the end, it came out very well, although once or twice they had to call Sara in to help them.

After dinner, Harry pulled Hermione aside, and they went outside. Harry was wearing the cloak Hermione gave him, and Hermione was wearing her cloak, but they still huddled together, sitting on a bench outside.

“Hermione,” said Harry solemnly. “I know we haven’t been together all that long, but the time I’ve spent with you has been the best time I’ve ever had.”

“Is something wrong, Harry?” Hermione looked concerned.

“No, nothing’s wrong.” He smiled at her. “I hope this isn’t too sudden, but I’ve been thinking about this a lot.”

“Oh, Harry,” said Hermione, gasping. “Are you…?”

“Yes.” He nodded. “Hermione, will you marry me?” He pulled a small box out of his cloak, opened it, and took a ring out.

“Oh, Harry, of course I’ll marry you!” Hermione threw her arms around Harry.

After a few minutes, they went back inside, where everybody else was sitting around the fireplace in the sitting room, a roaring fire in the fireplace. Harry and Hermione sat down together, between Lupin and Ginny. Ginny was the first to notice the ring on Hermione’s finger.

“Hermione, Harry, are you…?” She gasped as they both nodded, and she hugged both of them. “Congratulations!” Soon, everybody was congratulating them again.

Finally, as the countdown reached midnight, Harry kissed Hermione, Ron kissed Sara, and Arthur kissed Molly. Lupin began to sing Auld Lang Syne, and soon everybody joined in. By the end, Hermione was leaning on Harry, tears in her eyes.

“Is something wrong, Hermione,” asked Harry.

“No,” sniffed Hermione. “It’s just that this song always gets me emotional.” She hugged Harry, and he held her close.

“I love you,” he said, smiling at this new little eccentricity of hers.

“Love you too, Harry,” said Hermione, the tears disappearing from her eyes.

Author’s Second Note: So yeah, you see what I mean? I thought that a week of being together was not enough to justify a proposal, even if it is Harry and Hermione. I know, I know, in the story, it’s only a little more than a month, instead of a week here, but it is, after all, Harry and Hermione. They’re perfect for each other, and they both know it. So that was the difference for me. I hope you enjoyed it, and the final extra bit will follow in a couple of days, as soon as I have time to fix it up and post it. You can more or less rely on it being posted by Thursday night. But don’t kill me if it’s not up by then please.

10. Extra #2: Alternate Ending

Same Old Lang Syne

(This would take place just after Chapter 5 (January 31st – Hermione).)

Alternate Ending

Hermione never truly recovered from the loss she suffered at the hands of Draco Malfoy. She would eventually become an Auror in hopes of preventing other people having to go through the loss she went through in losing Harry. One day, she encountered Malfoy on a mission, and Draco Malfoy would become the first, last, and only life Hermione Granger would ever take. However, revenge would not soothe the pain in Hermione’s heart, and she spent the rest of her years burying herself in her work, until she could no longer work, at which point she became a recluse. Not even the Weasleys could ever console her, and Hermione Granger died alone, in the truest sense of the word.

“And my soul from out that shadow that lies

floating on the floor

Shall be lifted – nevermore!”

-Edgar Allan Poe, “The Raven”

Author’s Note: *cowers in the corner* Don’t hurt me please! No yelling please! This was never going to be the actual ending to this story, ever! I swear! I just wrote it, I was never going to end the story with it.