Cancitotallus by DonovanPotter

Rating: PG13
Genres: Angst, Romance
Relationships: Harry & Hermione
Book: Harry & Hermione, Books 1 - 6
Published: 20/12/2005
Last Updated: 02/01/2006
Status: Completed

So this is it, the final chapter the one where our lovely couple 'get it on' -
eventually...




1. Harry's Return
-----------------

**Chapter 1 – Harry’s Return**

Harry Potter stood at the bottom of the driveway and ran a hand through his messy black hair.
The Burrow hadn’t changed in the five years he had been away, its familiarity bringing him some
comfort as he steadied himself for whatever was about to happen. Rearranging the backpack on his
shoulders and grabbing the handles of the smaller bag at his feet, Harry took a deep breath and
started walking up the path. It was early Saturday evening and the winter sky was already dark –
after spending three years in the southern hemisphere Harry had blissfully forgotten how early it
got dark in his homeland during the winter – but the January gloom wasn’t his main concern.

Harry hadn’t seen or spoken to anyone since Voldemort’s defeat five years earlier, disappearing
once he knew everyone was going to be alright. Pausing once again before crossing the small yard to
the house, he took another deep breath and readied himself for whatever reaction came his way –
would they welcome him? Or would they be angry and turn him away? It was time to find out. Taking
the final steps towards the door, Harry tentatively knocked.

A few moments passed before the door was opened and a familiar face peaked out, a look of shock
before a scream of welcome and Harry was engulfed into a bear hug from Molly Weasley.

“Molly? Molly, are you alright dear?” Arthur Weasley came anxiously into Harry’s line of vision
as he remained held tightly in Molly’s embrace, “Harry? Goodness me, Harry!” Arthur exclaimed,
coming forward, “Molly, dear, let the boy go. I don’t think he can breathe.” Harry couldn’t help
smiling as he felt the grip loosen around him and he was able to look down at his assailant.

“Hello Mrs Weasley, Mr Weasley,” he ventured shyly, “sorry to disturb you…”

“Disturb us? Shush,” Mrs Weasley bustled, “oh Harry, come on in, come on in. None of the
children are here at the moment but…oh, Arthur, Ron will be ecstatic!”

“Harry might not be ready to see everyone,” Mr Weasley said kindly as he shook Harry’s hand and
led him into the cozy kitchen, “you look tired son.”

“Thank you Mr Weasley,” Harry replied as he sat at the table, placing his luggage in the chair
next to him, “yeah, I am a bit fuc…ah, buggered. It was quite a journey to get here…”

“Well, some food will help,” Mrs Weasley injected, “and then a rest. Where exactly have you come
from dear?”

“New Zealand…”

“New Zealand?” Mr Weasley interrupted, “but Harry, that’s miles away!” Harry nodded mutely, his
mouth suddenly becoming full of the freshly baked bread that he had just dipped into the lovely
pumpkin soup which had been placed in front of him.

“Are you here long Harry?” Mrs Weasley asked, sitting down next to her husband on the opposite
side of the table, “everyone would love to meet you!”

“Actually, I’ve come back to sta…” but Harry couldn’t finish his sentence due to the scream of
delight from Mrs Weasley.

“Did you hear that Arthur, Harry is going to stay! Well, you are more than welcome to board here
until you find your feet, Merlin knows we have too much space now all the children are gone. And
Arthur – are there any vacancies at the Ministry? I can’t remember…”

“Molly, sweetheart, Harry may have plans,” Mr Weasley said calmly, winking at Harry as his wife
continued to make suggestions, “but if you haven’t Harry, we would be pleased to have you
stay.”

“I was going to get a room at the Leaky Cauldron…”

“No! I will not hear of it,” Molly interrupted again, “not when there are rooms begging here at
The Burrow. I’ll go and fix Ron’s old room for you.” Without another word, she bustled out of the
room and left the two men sitting quietly at the table.

“Things have been tough on Molly after Ginny shifted out,” Mr Weasley explained, “the house
seems so empty. Still, it fills up quick enough when they all return.”

“How is the family?” Harry asked as he had another mouthful of bread.

“Growing,” Mr Weasley smiled fondly, “Bill and Fleur have a son, Artie, he’s four now. Bill
still works at Gringotts. Charlie married a nice girl just over a year ago, Kimmy is her name, and
they have a new little son called Allie. Fred and Angelina got married, ooh, two and a half years
ago now and are happy with a house in Hogsmead. No children as yet as he is so busy with the
business, which I must say is doing very well. He and George run the shop at Hogsmead while Ginny
manages the store at Diagon Alley. George is still single, we can never keep track of his
girlfriends! Who else? Oh yes, Ron married Luna and have a lovely son called Lenny who keeps
everyone on their toes while Ginny has been dating Neville Longbottom for a little while now…” Mr
Weasley stopped and glanced over at Harry. Part of Harry realised what his host was silently asking
– his relationship with Ginny had still been in progress when he left, just, and knowledge that she
had moved on may have been painful. It wasn’t.

“It sounds like everyone is happy,” Harry said finally, smiling as he finished his soup, “I’m
glad. What about the others?”

“Remus and Tonks are doing well, still at Grimmauld Place though it is unrecognisable…”

“And Hermione?”

“Hermione is training to be a Healer,” Mrs Weasley answered as she re-entered the kitchen, “your
bed is ready Harry, but I know both Ron and Ginny would love to say hello.” Harry frowned.

“And Hermione?” he repeated.

“It’s a bit late for her dear. You will see her soon enough.”

Harry glanced at his watch and saw that it was only seven o’clock, making his frown deepen – how
could seven o’clock be too late? Yet he realised he will have to wonder about that mystery a bit
later on as he looked at the anxious face of the Weasley matriarch, who was waiting on tender hooks
for Harry’s permission to contact her children. Thinking that it would be nice to see Ron again and
knowing he would have to face Ginny sometime, he smiled his acceptance to her offer and in a dash
she headed towards the fireplace in the living room.

“I won’t let them stay too long Harry,” Mr Weasley said kindly, “you must be exhausted. But they
would love to see you.” Before Harry could respond, a tall, lanky redhead strode into the kitchen,
a smile plastered on his face. Harry recognised his friend immediately and rose to meet him,
allowing himself to be drawn into a hug.

“Harry,” Ron exclaimed, “I don’t believe it mate! Welcome home!” The two men drew apart and
Harry noticed that although there was a new maturity in the familiar face, it still had the boyish
inquisitiveness that he remembered from his school days.

“Good to see you too,” Harry responded, grinning, “though its hard to believe you are a
father!”

“I know! But, well, these things happen if you keep having sex!”

“Ronald,” Mrs Weasley scolded before another familiar redhead entered the room. Harry turned
from Ron and looked into the eyes of a girl that once meant so much to him.

“Hey Ginny,” he said softly. The two looked at each other, Ginny with a small smile on her
face.

“Looking good Potter,” she replied just as softly.

“You too,” Harry came back, “Neville must agree with you.” Ginny’s smile faulted slightly before
taking a few more steps to stand directly in front of him.

“I didn’t think I’d ever see you again.”

“Things took a bit longer to sort out than I had anticipated.”

“And you’re back to stay?”

“Yeah.” They both just looked at each and Harry noticed, as he did with Ron, that the main
change in Ginny was a new maturity that hid in her eyes. But the nervousness that he thought he’d
experience when facing her never arrived – his heart hadn’t fluttered when he first saw her or ache
that she was now out of reach. Ginny was once again just Ginny, a good friend and the baby sister
of his best friend. Still, he had had left without a word seemingly a lifetime ago.

“Sorry Ginny,” he finally said.

“What for?”

“For leaving, for hurting you, for giving you no explanation…”

“It isn’t me you need to apologise to Harry,” she replied, once again smiling, “what we had was
nearly over – I knew that. I can’t deny I wasn’t upset or worried when you disappeared, we all were
– but it wasn’t because I was in love with you. It was because you were my friend and you were
hurting.”

Harry broke from her gaze and looked at his feet.

“I had some things I had to deal with on my own,” he mumbled.

“And are they sorted?”

“Yeah, most of them,” he looked back up at her.

“Welcome home Harry,” she grinned and once again Harry was pulled into a hug.

Later that night Harry found himself walking up the stairs to Ron’s old bedroom. The house was
surprisingly warm so Harry stripped down to his boxers and fell into bed, ready to sleep. Tired as
he was, however, he found he couldn’t shut down as his mind went over and over what had happened in
the last few hours.

The Weasley’s treated him like a long lost son, that he hadn’t done any wrong with dropping out
of their world for such a long time and had welcomed him back with open arms. Harry smiled as he
thought of their acceptance, realising just how much he was part of this family.

Ron has also accepted him back without a second thought, returning easily to their old
friendship. Yet Ron was no longer an insecure, gangly teenager – he was a man with a family and
responsibilities. He worked in the Ministry in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement in an
office role that kept him close to his family, which was how Ron wanted it. He told Harry that he
had had enough excitement and danger to last a lifetime, being quite happy to sit at a desk and let
others go out and get the bad guys. Harry agreed. He chuckled into the darkness as he thought about
his friend, still not quite believing that Ron had married Luna and couldn’t wait to hear the full
story of the courtship and subsequent wedding.

His relationship with Ginny was a lot less complicated than Harry thought it would be. He didn’t
leave her on the best of terms and he had been unsure of her response to him. It seems that time
had been a fantastic healer and that Neville was better for her than Harry could ever have been. He
was happy for her, happy for them both, and slightly relieved to not have to hurt her again if she
had wanted to start off where they had ended.

Sighing, Harry closed his eyes but sleep still stayed away. Ron and Ginny didn’t hate him – two
down, one to go. He wondered whether Hermione would be as accommodating, whether the closeness that
had begun between them the days before the final battle would mean that her hurt would be greater.
He guessed it would be.

Harry’s eyes opened as he looked to the dark ceiling of the room. Remnants of a Chudly Cannon
poster still coated the space above him, but he didn’t really see it. He knew his return wouldn’t
be plain sailing, life here had continued without him and things had changed – but that didn’t make
things any easier. Sighing again, he let himself stare into nothingness until finally his weariness
overtook him.



2. The Sickness of Hermione
---------------------------

**Chapter 2 – The Sickness of Hermione**

Hermione was tired – but then again, Hermione was always tired. Exhaustion was a regular part of
her life now, and the excitement of Christmas and New Years always took a while to for her to get
over. However, it was the middle of January and routine was finally returning to normal starting
with brunch with Ron, Luna, Ginny and Neville. Sighing a contented sigh, Hermione entered the local
café they often met at for the regular get togethers.

Everyone was there, talking adamantly, not noticing her arrival until she was basically at the
table. Removing her gloves and scarf she frowned as Ginny finally noticed her standing there and
the talk between them all ceased abruptly.

“Hey Hermione,” Ginny said innocently as Ron stood and drew Hermione into a hug before sitting
once more and scooting over to make room for her on the bench seat where he sat with Luna. Hermione
remained standing as she looked at her friends. Something was up. Both Ron and Neville looked
guilty while Luna – well, Luna just looked like Luna.

“What’s going on?” she asked firmly.

“What makes you think something is going on?” Ginny replied casually as she reached for her cup
of coffee, “everything is…”

“Because I’m not stupid,” Hermione bit, “tell me what is wrong. Now.” The two couples looked at
each other before Ron finally spoke.

“It’s about Harry.”

“Harry?” Hermione said, confused – she wasn’t expecting that answer.

“Hermione, Harry’s home.” She looked sharply at Ron who looked back at her with an apologetic
smile.

“But Harry is dead…” she said firmly, trying to hang on to the same thought that had kept her
sane for the last five years.

“Harry isn’t dead sweetie,” Ginny replied, getting out from next to Neville and walking over to
her friend, “you know he isn’t.”

“He can’t come home, he can’t come back,” Hermione continued, talking more to herself than
anyone else.

“Don’t you want to see him?” Ron asked tentatively

.

“No! No Ron,” she snapped, “and why would you want to either? He deserted us! Left us to pick up
the pieces, deal with…everything!”

“He would have had his reasons…”

“We were a team!” she yelled, not caring about the stares from the other diners “we stood by
him, for better and for worse, side by side. And then he just left! Whatever his problems were, we
should have gone through them together, just like every thing else. It was always supposed to be
the three of us together, forever!”

“But it’s not just the three of us anymore Hermione,” Ron said gently, trying to placate his
friend, “I’ve got Luna and Lenny. One day you’ll find someone and Harry – well…”

“That’s different Ronald, and you know it,” she continued, shaking with emotion, “that’s growing
up. I didn’t mean we would all live together and have adventures until we die. I meant that we
would be friends, be there for each other, talk to each other. But no, he buggers off and ignores
us like we were nothing!”

“He would have had his reasons…” Ron repeated.

“I don’t care what his reasons were! I don’t care what his reasons are! If he had valued my
friendship, our friendship, he should have stayed!” Hermione’s head began to throb as her outburst
began to take its toll on her body. Making her way to the table, she collapsed down onto the bench
seat next to Ron and put her head into her hands.

Harry was back. Harry was back and she needed to deal with that. How – she wasn’t quite sure,
but she would have to find a way. A way that didn’t ruin it for the others. She felt Ron’s arm
drape over her shoulder, trying to give her comfort.

“He was our friend Hermione,” he said softly.

“I know,” she sighed, “and I will be there with you to welcome him back. But I can’t forgive him
Ron, I just can’t.” Ron nodded before enfolding her into a hug. She stayed there for a moment
before drawing away.

“I’m guessing there’s a welcome back get together?” she questioned.

“Saturday,” Ron replied, “we’re having a dinner at The Burrow, just the five of us. Oh, and
Lenny.” Hermione nodded before standing and finally looking at the others.

“I need to go…” she began before Ginny replaced her brother at Hermione’s side.

“Stay, have some lunch,” Ginny pleaded, “don’t be on your own now…”

“I’ll be fine,” Hermione interrupted, “I just need some time to think, prepare. And I have a
headache that will need to be dealt with. I’ll see you all on Saturday.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.” Hugging her friend before saying her goodbyes to Ron, Luna and Neville she left the
cafe and began the walk home. Her brain whirled at the news she had just been given but the mantra
that continued through her mind was that he was back, the bastard was back.

Hermione wasn’t well, but she was determined to keep her promise to Ginny. So it was with a
large amount of fear that she Flooed to The Burrow the following Saturday, her heart thumping with
great pace in her chest. Gingerly, she stepped out of the hearth in the Weasley’s lounge as ready
as she could be. But before she could even think, a miniature red haired boy flung himself at
her.

“Aunt Hermy,” Lenny squealed, “you made it!”

“Yes I made it,” Hermione replied, smiling as she hugged the three year old, “and how’s things
with you Mr Weasley.”

“Mr Weasley’s my dad,” the young man said frowning, “I’m Lenny! Come with me, I have a surprise
for you!” Letting herself be led by the hand through the small group of familiar faces, she knew
who would be Lenny’s surprise. Her heart continued to beat wildly as she found she wasn’t mistaken.
The little boy stopped triumphantly in front of him – Harry Potter.

“Look who’s here Aunt Hermy,” Lenny enthused, “it Harry Potter! He’s famous!”

Hermione watched as a small smile tugged at her old friends’ mouth.

“Hi Hermy,” he said grinning, which died when he noticed it wasn’t returned.

“Only Lenny can get away with calling me Hermy,” she replied with little emotion, “welcome back
Harry.” She saw the confusion that crossed his face, but she didn’t care. Instead she knelt down
and spoke to Lenny.

“Thanks for the surprise,” she said with what she hoped was a smile, “but I better go see if
your nanna needs some help.”

“Can we play later?”

“Yep.”

“And will you read me a bedtime story?”

“You bet.”

“Okay!” and with that the boy ran off, ready for another adventure. With a bit of a struggle,
she stood up and without letting Harry say another word, went to the kitchen with Ginny and Luna
following closely behind. Molly was working at the sink, turning when Hermione and the others
entered. Wearily, Hermione sat down at the kitchen table with the youngest Weasley at her side.

“Are you okay?” Ginny asked, “Hermione, you look terrible.”

“Haven’t been sleeping well,” she replied as she hung her head down, “I did it Ginny.”

“Did what?”

“I spoke to him without yelling or crying. That’s progress don’t you think?” She looked up into
the worried face of her friend and smiled, before resting her aching head in her hands.

“Hermione, you need to rest sweetie,” Ginny replied as she sat next to Hermione, “why don’t you
let me take you home…”

“No,” Hermione responded, “no, I said I’d stay for dinner and I will. Besides, I think I’ve gone
past fixing how I feel with just a nap.”

“Hermione…” Ginny began, but she was once again interrupted.

“Why is this affecting me so much Ginny? If anyone should be upset, its you but you’re not.
Neither is Ron.”

“That’s because you were the closest to Harry, even closer than me really…”

“No I wasn’t – you guys were in love! You were together when he left!”

“We thought we were in love Hermione, and that’s different,” Ginny said gently, “I realise now
that what I felt for Harry is nothing like what I feel for Neville. This is real – Harry wasn’t.
Besides, I would have always come second to you. I wasn’t the most important girl in his life…”

“Harry never loved me, you know that, we were only ever just friends…”

“You have never been ‘just’ Harry’s friend as he is more than ‘just’ a friend to you. That’s why
this has been so difficult…”

“I really believed that he was dead, you know. I thought that would be the only reason he’d stay
away.”

“I know.” They both paused.

“I’m sorry I was never there for you after he left,” Hermione said finally.

“You had more to cope with than any of us Hermione,” Ginny smiled at her friend, “I had others
who were kind enough to listen – including Neville.” Hermione returned her smile.

“Ron was affected too,” Luna ventured as she made her way to the table, standing behind Ginny,
“but he didn’t want you to know how much. Harry’s going hurt him badly but he is just happy to have
him back.”

“I guess I should be as well then,” Hermione said resignedly.

“You do what is best for you dear,” Mrs Weasley joined in, “your circumstances are different and
you are more than entitled to be angry at Harry.”

Hermione looked up at the three women who had helped her so much over the last five years.
Loosing Dumbledore, then her parents plus Hagrid had been horrendous. But that was nothing to being
cursed with a near-fatal curse, a curse that is sapping her energy a bit more each day, a curse
that has taken away her ability to enjoy the little bit of life she has left – and then not having
Harry by her side to help her to get through it all. Instead it had been these ladies and their
families who had supported her and she wouldn’t have got through it without them.

“Thanks Molly,” she said finally, “thanks all of you.”

As the table was set and the dinner dished up, the men joined the women in the kitchen. Hermione
was already seated and like usual, Lenny sat next to her. This time, he had the hand of Harry who
was made to sit on the little boys other side.

“Uncle Harry can sit by me, can’t he dad?” Ron smiled at his son’s question as it seemed to
everyone else that Harry had little choice.

“If he wants to Lenny, but you can’t annoy him while he eats, okay?”

“Okay.” Silence. “Uncle Harry, do you have a broom? ‘Cause I have! Mum has finally said I could
fly and it is so much fun! Can you fly?”

“Ah, yeah, though I haven’t for a wh…”

“When I’m grown up, I’m going to play Quidditch, just like dad and Uncle Bill, and Uncle
Charlie, and Uncle Fred and…”

“I think he gets the point Lenny,” Ron interrupted, with a small apologetic smile at Harry.

“Did you play Quidditch Uncle Harry?” Lenny continued without hesitation.

“Yep, I was a Seeker…”

“Dad was a Keeper,” Lenny interrupted, “but Aunt Hermy didn’t play. Aunt Ginny did though! You
don’t like Quidditch do you Aunt Hermy…”

“No, no I don’t,” Hermione answered, “but I will go and watch the Canons with you and your dad
the next time they’re in town.”

“Promise?” Hermione nodded, smiling. In a flash, Lenny turned his attention back to Harry.

“Uncle Harry, are you going to come as well? Or will you go again?” Hermione found herself
holding her breath as she waited for Harry’s answer.

“Sure, if I can,” Harry replied, “and I’m not going anywhere.” She closed her eyes and silently
let her breath out as he spoke, realising that her grip on everything was getting weaker and
weaker.

“Uncle Harry, did you…”

“I think that’s enough Lenny,” Luna interrupted, “let Uncle Harry eat.” Lenny drew his eyes away
from Harry and looked at his mother seated on the other side of the table, seeing that she meant
business. He may only be three but he knew when to stop.

“Okay mum,” he said before concentrating on his food.

“So Harry,” Ginny began, taking over where her nephew finished, “where have you been for the
last five years?”

“Ah, two years in Poland, a year and a bit in Australia and nearly two years in New
Zealand.”

“Wow,” Lenny enthused, forgetting his earlier warning, “where are those places? Can you fly
there on a broom?”

“Well, no Lenny,” Harry laughed, “they’re a bit too far away.”

“So how did you get there?” the small boy asked, confused.

“I flew in a Muggle machine called an airplane which took hours and hours,” Harry explained to
Lenny’s satisfaction.

“You didn’t use the wizarding network?” Arthur asked, drawing Harry’s attention away from the
squirming child sitting next to him.

“No,” he replied, “I haven’t really used magic that much since I left here. I’ve been living as
a Muggle.”

“You’ve been living as a Muggle?” Ron repeated, amazed.

“Yeah,” Harry smiled at his old friend, “ironic isn’t it.”

“What was Australia like?” Neville asked, joining in the conversation.

“I lived just outside of Perth, so it was hot but beautiful. Fantastic beaches.”

“And many beautiful ladies, no doubt,” Ginny grinned mischievously.

“I guess so,” Harry laughed back at her.

“Come on Harry,” Ginny continued, “you can’t tell me that you’ve travelled all over the world
and not noticed the women, because they would have definitely noticed you!”

“Ginny!” Mrs Weasley exclaimed.

“I really don’t think that you should be having this conversation with your ex-boyfriend while
your current boyfriend is sitting next to you,” Ron said rather sternly.

“I don’t mind,” Neville joined in, “I agree, actually. You’re a good looking bloke Harry.”

“Here, here!” Luna laughed, much to Ron’s embarrassment before he too saw the humour (and how
uncomfortable Harry was looking) and joined in with the laughter.

However Hermione didn’t laugh and noticed neither did Harry (or Lenny for that matter, who
wanted to finish his dinner so he could go and play, totally oblivious to what was taking place
around him). She had listened to the conversation in silence, intent on just eating the dessert
that was now in front of her without showing him any indication that she cared about what he was
saying. But she was a smart woman and even in her exhausted state, every word that he spoke was
stored in her brain for further analysis.

“Mummy,” Lenny’s voice broke through the chatter, “I’ve finished. Can I go and play?”

“Sure darling,” Luna smiled as her son thanked his grandmother for the dinner before he jumped
down from his chair and sprinted away.

“So,” Ron’s attention returned back to Harry, “evidently, girls would have noticed you but you
didn’t notice girls – foreign girls – during your travels. I find that hard to believe.”

“Well, I wasn’t quite in the right space to start dating…”

“But you must have had some form of relationships while away,” Ginny questioned.

“No, not really…”

“Not even sex?” Luna asked, ignoring the gasps from the senior Weasley’s and sniggers from the
younger.

“Pure as the day I left Hogwarts,” Harry laughed, no hint of a blush. Unwittingly Hermione’s
head snapped up.

“Really?” Ginny said loudly, her face showing her surprise, “you’ve never had sex?”

“I think I might retire to the living room,” a flustered Mrs Weasley said as she rose, ignored
by the others at the table – including her husband, “Arthur, will you join me?” Realising it was an
order more than a request, Mr Weasley excused himself and followed his wife out of the room,
glancing openly back to the table.

“Nope,” Harry finally replied, once the senior Weasley’s had gone, “never had sex.”

“You mean, you and Ginny never…well, you know…” Hermione asked, making Harry turn to her at the
sound of her voice.

“No, we didn’t. I kind of had other things on my mind…”

“And I was only sixteen,” Ginny interjected, somewhat annoyed, “why does every one think I was a
slut?”

“I didn’t mean it that way Ginny,” Hermione said frantically, “I just thought, well, you two
were so close…”

“Like you and Ron, yet you guys never had sex either!”

“Thanks for that Ginny,” Ron spat at his sister, “I’m sure sharing that bit of information
really helped…”

“You…you two didn’t either?” Harry asked, looking directly at Hermione, his eyes full of
surprise. She could feel herself shake, the eyes that had haunted her dreams for so long were
piercing her with concern. He didn’t know what was happening to her yet it was those wonderfully
green eyes that told her he knew something was wrong. She felt herself begin to tear and the last
thing she wanted was for him to see her cry. Quickly, she looked back down at her dessert and tried
with what little strength she had left to get herself under control.

“Nah mate, we were still finding it difficult to be with each other let alone sleep with each
other,” Ron smiled, “Bloody hell, I can’t believe I lost my virginity before you guys. Never saw
that coming!”

*Did Ron just say that?* she thought miserably, knowing she had just blushed head to foot
before smiling to herself, *still, at least its stopped me wanting to cry.*

Suddenly, the kitchen door crashed open.

“Aunt Hermy, Aunt Hermy,” Lenny (thankfully) interrupted, “do you want to play? You said you
would!”

“I did, didn’t I,” Hermione replied, ignoring everyone else, grateful she had an excuse to
leave, “well, lets go, but it will have to be something sitting down, okay?”

“Okay!” Gingerly, Hermione stood and let herself be led out of the dinning room by Lenny, making
sure she didn’t look at any of the others as she left.

Smiling as they passed Mr and Mrs Weasley in deep conversation on the couch, Hermione followed
her young playmate to his make-shift room on the first floor. His toys were every where, as well as
belongings from his cousins, but her chair was empty (probably cleared before Lenny had gone to get
her, knowing that was her favourite place to sit). Wearily she sat down and closed her eyes briefly
as Lenny went to get what ever game he wanted her to play.

Bright pin-pricks of light began to dance in front of her closed eyelids, swirling around in a
way that began to make her feel giddy. Unable to re-open her eyes, she instead concentrated on
remaining upright, forgetting that she was actually sitting comfortably in a chair. In fact, she
was no longer aware of Lenny or the game he had chosen for them to play. Instead, her mind began to
be engulfed with the thick darkness that warned her the curse was once again taking affect.

She had only felt this sensation four times before, spread out during the five years she had
lived with her illness. Each time she had been too exhausted to fight the nothingness she knew
would soon consume her and this occasion was no different. Her mind was blissfully blank as all
awareness disappeared. She didn’t hear Lenny’s panicked pleas for her to wake up, or feel him shake
her as she slumped down in her favourite chair. All there was for Hermione was darkness, blissful
darkness.

A/N – so now you know what is wrong with Hermione – hope that hasn’t upset any of you. Oh, and I
don’t really know too many three year olds so I apologise if I haven’t got the mannerisms for
Lenny’s age right.



3. St Mungo's
-------------

**A/N – now, a few of you might not like this chapter but all hope is not lost, I promise!
Don’t give up! Hope you all had a wonderful happy and safe Christmas and have a fantastic and
equally safe New Year!**

**Chapter 3 – St Mungo’s**

Stepping out of the Floo into a crisp, white ward at the wizarding hospital, Harry saw he was at
the end of a long, stark corridor, its blankness disturbed only by a small group of chairs and
people standing about half way down from where he was. It wasn’t how he remembered St Mungo’s and
its usual haphazard wards and corridors, but it must be the right place as the others were already
there. Quickly, he made his way to a very worried looking Ginny, Neville and Arthur.

“What’s going on,” Harry spat out, “what’s wrong with her?”

“Healer Gower will explain once she has…”

“Why can’t you explain,” Harry interrupted Arthur, “why can’t some one tell me what’s going
on!”

“Because it’s better if Healer Gower explains…”

“Did she know this was going to happen? Did you know it was going to happen?”

“We thought it might,” Neville answered, “we were ready just in case…”

“Is this because of me?” Harry watched as the trio exchanged uncomfortable looks, confirming his
suspicion. Deflated, Harry sunk into a chair.

“I shouldn’t have come back,” he said dejectedly, “this is my fault.” But Harry’s self pity was
interrupted by a female’s scream coming from behind the doors that were in front of them. Once
again he was on his feet looking at where the scream had come from.

“What are they doing to her?” he asked, not really expecting a reply.

“Believe it or not, they’re helping her,” Ginny said gently, leading him back to the chairs.
Wearily he sat down and closed his eyes – this was all too much.

“Ah, the usual subjects, here again I see.” Harry looked up from he was sitting to see a woman
in her late thirties come out from behind the doors and walking towards them, a subdued Ron
following close behind her.

“Did we make it time?” Ginny asked, “is Hermione…”

“We got to her in time Miss Weasley,” the Healer replied, watching as Neville enveloped his
girlfriend in a comforting hug, “she has survived once again.”

“Survived?” Harry asked, frowning, “she nearly died just now?” The Healer noticed Harry for the
first time, stepping back slightly as Harry rose and towered above her.

“And you are?” she asked.

“Sorry Healer Gower,” Arthur said quickly, “this is Harry Potter, an old friend of
Hermione’s.”

“Mr Potter, I’ve heard a lot about you,” the young woman said, holding out her hand in greeting.
Harry shook it, still frowning and still unsure what was going on.

“Er, I’ve got to get back to Luna and Lenny,” Ron interjected, “the little guy was in a right
state. Thanks Healer Gower. I’ll see you around Harry.” With that, Ron turned and quickly left.

“It’s best we get going too,” Neville said, holding Ginny’s hand but looking at Arthur and the
Healer, “let Hermione know we’ll see her tomorrow.”

“Good to see you again Harry. We…we should catch up,” Ginny said hesitantly as she hugged the
shocked man, “when things are back to normal maybe.” Harry just nodded. She hugged her father
briefly before she too turned and followed Neville down the corridor.

“Tell Molly Hermione is resting and will be able to see visitors tomorrow,” Healer Gower gently
said to a tired looking Arthur, “I will have a few words with Mr Potter here, explain what’s going
on.”

“Righto,” Mr Weasley replied sadly, “give Hermione our love, will you? Harry,” the two men
looked at each other, “Maggie here will explain everything. Sorry this happened tonight but, well,
these things can’t be helped. Just Floo back to The Burrow when you’re ready, I’ll tell Molly not
to wait up.” One more hug and Harry was left standing alone and confused with the Healer at his
side.

“Well, I would think tonight’s events have come as a bit of a shock,” the young witch said
eventually, drawing Harry’s eyes from the blank spot he had been absently staring at, to her
face.

“What happened?” he asked simply as he fought all the emotions that were bubbling away inside of
him. With a small smile, the Healer indicated to the group of chairs before leading Harry there and
sitting down.

“Hermione was cursed with something that had not been used for nearly 150 years, is extremely
powerful and rare.”

“But I was told she was alright,” Harry said, “I was told I was okay to leave.”

“And I thought you were, as I was the Healer assigned to Hermione when she first arrived. But
unfortunately her condition wasn’t established fully until a month after your departure. By that
stage you were unreachable.” Harry sat and thought for a moment, guilt welling up inside of
him.

“What is her condition,” he asked, “what’s wrong with her?”

“She was struck with the Cancitotallus Curse by Lord Voldemort, moments before you defeated him.
It is a curse that can only be cast and cured by extreme power…”

“Extreme power?”

“Yes, which is why it is very rarely used. It calls on a lot of magical reserve to cast it. We
think that Lord Voldemort realised he wasn’t going to win and decided to…”

“…to take away someone close to me. Hermione was fighting by my side.” Harry’s mind was whirling
with a mixture of anger, grief, guilt and horror as he remembered the last fight; he and Hermione
separated from the others, she helping to distract Voldemort allowing him to use Godric
Gryffindor’s sword for the fatal blow. He had seen Hermione fall and had been by her side as she
was taken to St Mungo’s…his thoughts were interrupted as Healer Gower continued.

“It can only be reversed by the person who cast it originally, who thankfully is now dead, but
of course that doesn’t help Hermione. I can only delay the full strength of the curse, however I
cannot cure her. ”

“The full strength?” Harry repeated, his heart beating widely – he didn’t like the direction
this conversation was going.

“Harry, Hermione is dying. Every day she gets that little bit weaker. We think she only has
around one, maybe two years of life left. Collapses, like the one she experienced this evening, are
caused by stress and anxiety and take a lot of the remaining strength she has…”

“Hermione is dying,” Harry whispered, not really a question but more a realisation of what he
was being told.

“Yes. I’m sorry…”

“You said it was okay for me to go!” Harry yelled suddenly, standing up and turning from the
woman in front of him, totally unaware of the red glow that began to surround his body, “you said
that it was fine, that everyone was fine,” he continued before squaring back onto the Healer, his
eyes blazing, “but everyone is NOT fine! I can’t believe this! Hermione is dying!” As he said those
words, Harry’s anger quickly ebbed away, replaced swiftly by grief.

“Hermione is dying,” he repeated, slumping back in his seat.

“Your staying would not have prevented this Harry,” Healer Gower began, “in fact, it probably
would have made things worse.”

“How?” He looked into the unfamiliar face of the woman who had been looking after his friend for
the last five years. He saw intelligence, compassion and understanding – a combination that
reminded him so much of Albus Dumbledore. He didn’t remember her, though he is sure this wasn’t the
first time they had met. Her next words confirmed that.

“Because you were broken and Hermione would have spent a lot of her energy to try and fix you.
You did an admirable job hiding the pain you were in after the Last Battle for the weeks you
remained, but you could not have done that for ever. If you had tried, then your pain would have
consumed you and we would have lost you both.” His pain had consumed him anyway and for longer than
he cared to admit. If he had stayed, he would have been no help to anyone. But he wanted to help
now.

“Tell me everything,” he said finally, “tell me everything you know about this curse and what
has been happening to her since I’ve been gone.”

“When Hermione woke at first, when you were still here, her condition was thought stable by us
here at St Mungos,” the young Healer began, “all her vital signs were normal, she just showed
extreme tiredness, which was thought to be a result of her injuries. As time progressed it became
apparent that we were wrong. The wounds on her abdomen became infected and her loss of sight was
less temporary than we thought…”

“She lost her sight?”

“Hermione was blind for two years. After the correct diagnosis was made we had staff working
around the clock to find a cure. When it was determined that a cure was beyond our capabilities, we
moved our attention to making the years she had remaining with us as comfortable as possible. She
remained in St Mungo’s for six months as we worked out the best way to treat her condition and
between us here and her friends, we have looked after her ever since.

“She is a courageous and extremely strong young woman who has continued to live her life as
fully as she can. She wanted to study to become a Healer, keep her mind busy I think she said, so
we made allowances for her and she is now in her second year. She has a nice flat in central London
and I think she is writing an updated version of ‘Hogwarts: A History’ as well as her memoirs. She
has learnt to cope with what life has dealt her but, as you have already witnessed, she tires
extremely easily and if she is stressed, her body shuts down protecting only her core organs. If I
do not perform a counter-curse within ten minutes of her collapse, she dies.”

“Which is what happened tonight.”

“Yes. The Weasley’s notified me after your return, warning me that she may not take things too
well. A plan of action was put in place to protect Hermione and in the days between when she was
told last Sunday and now, her condition deteriorated…”

“Why didn’t you stop her progressing this far?”

“Because we didn’t know she had digressed to the point of collapse until she arrived at the
Weasley’s this evening. Hermione too, is good at keeping secrets.”

“No wonder she hates me,” Harry sighed, “all the times she’s been there for me and when she
needed me the most – I wasn’t there. I’ve really fucked things up this time.” Healer Gower smiled
at the young man’s lapse of language before continuing.

“I don’t think Hermione hates you Harry. We have talked a lot over the years both professionally
and as the friends that we have become. She has never mentioned your name with hate –
disappointment, anger and hurt maybe, but not hate. She has dealt with your absence the only way
she knew how.”

“How can I make this right?”

“Patience,” the woman replied before standing, “would you like to see her?” Harry nodded his
acknowledgement in silence as once again his heart began beating heavily in his chest. Taking a
deep breath, he followed Healer Gower through the doors and into a single room, as white and stark
as the corridor they had just left. A bed was in the middle, its head against a wall with bedside
cabinets on each side. The only other furniture was a large cupboard – otherwise the room was
empty.

His attention was then taken by the fragile looking figure laying on the bed. Walking over to
her side, Harry was unaware of anyone else as he looked down onto the pale, waxy face of Hermione.
Her hair lay in wet clumps and dark circles bruised the skin around her eyes. Gently, he moved some
of the hair from her forehead, slightly startled when her eyes began to flutter, then open. He
watched as she focused on him, a small smile touched her lips.

“Harry?” she questioned, her voice barely a whisper.

“Yeah Hermione, it’s me,” Harry replied, returning her smile.

“This is a nice dream,” Hermione continued, her smile growing, “I’ve wanted to wake up and see
you by me for so long now…”

“I wish I had been here the other times too…” he began but was cut off as he watched her face
contort with a grimace of pain, her eyes closing tiredly.

“Nice dream,” she continued, “but only a dream. Harry can’t be here. Harry’s dead…left me on my
own. I miss him. Just a dream…”

He couldn’t believe what he had just heard and looked down at the seemingly sleeping woman in
shock. She thought he was dead? She had just seen him, spoken to him – why would she think that he
was dead?

“Let’s let her sleep Harry,” Healer Gower said softly as she rested a hand on Harry’s shoulder.
Harry looked at her and frowned.

“I don’t understand…” he began.

“I can explain if you like,” the Healer said, “but not here.” Numb, Harry nodded and turned back
to Hermione. He looked at her once more and frowned, wondering if he could ever fix the mess that
he had made. Sighing, he stood and followed Healer Gower out of the room to return to the chairs in
the hall way.

“Hermione’s survival mechanism to your disappearance was to convince herself that you had died,”
she started wearily, “even though we spoke of you and told her that you were alive – to her, you
had died in battle. She has spent five years believing that.”

“I need to make this right,” Harry said, just as wearily.

“And you will Harry,” Healer Gower said, handing him a small, ancient book as she stood. Harry
turned the book over in his hands and saw the title - *Cancitotallus Curse – A Manual*, “here
is the only known case study of Hermione’s condition. The author lost his brother to the curse and
spent the rest of his life finding all he could about it. Read this Harry, try and understand what
you are dealing with.” Harry nodded silently, with so much happening in such a small space of time
his brain didn’t seem to want to think anymore. Sighing, he took one more look at the doors that
hid Hermione from him.



4. The Chat Between Ginny and Hermione
--------------------------------------

**A/N – I know I only updated yesterday, but I’m on holiday so I have a bit of time up my
sleeve (though I should be outside, enjoying the sun…). Since I’m doing an alternate Harry’s POV
one chapter and then Hermione’s POV the next, I needed to chuck this in there so we can see some of
Hermione, and it helps see the story with Ginny. My husband will be working again tomorrow and all
my friends are away so there is a good chance I’ll update tomorrow as well. Will interested to see
the reviews for this chapter…**

**Chapter 4 – The Chat of Hermione and Ginny**

Hermione leaned back on the couch and shut her eyes while her hand absently stroked Crookshanks,
who was curled up contently on her lap. It was good to get out of St Mungo’s and back home.

“Here you go.” Hermione opened her eyes and looked at her friend as she took the cup of steaming
hot chocolate from her hands.

“Thanks Ginny,” she said, smiling, “and thanks for coming over to look after me.”

“My pleasure,” Ginny replied as she made herself comfortable in an armchair, her own hands
wrapped around a cup of coffee, “I wanted to make sure you were coping alright and, well, I wanted
to have a chat.” Hermione paused from sipping her drink as she looked at the other woman.

“A chat,” she repeated, “that sounds ominous.”

“I guess in a way it is,” Ginny began, looking down at her own drink as she tried to get her
thoughts together.

Hermione watched with interest. It was Wednesday, three days after her episode at The Burrow,
and everyone had been cautiously mentioning Harry, realising his name still uneased her. He had
briefly visited her at St Mungo’s, a visit that had made her mind whirl with debate on how she felt
and how she thought she should feel regarding him. Since then she had thought over and over about
what she was going to do with regards to Harry Potter, and how his return had affected her health.
She didn’t want it to and subsequently made a vow to herself that she would just accept him – but
not forgive him, not yet anyway.

Looking at her friend, Hermione realised that Harry’s return had also caused conflict for Ginny
and understood it was Harry that she wanted to discuss now. Patiently she waited until Ginny was
ready.

“On Saturday, when you asked me why Harry’s return wasn’t affecting me much,” she began
hesitantly, “I began thinking. And I thought that with Harry being back that we should talk
about…him and us. You and me.” Ginny stopped and looked at Hermione who returned her gaze with
interest.

“What do you want to know?” Hermione asked quietly, unsure of what was coming next.

“Why didn’t you write to me the summer after Dumbledore died, the summer you spent with Harry
and Ron at Privet Drive?”

“I guess because things got a bit crazy,” Hermione replied, frowning at the memory, “we sat
around talking about what we were going to do next, how we were going to find the horcruxes, making
plans. I was trying to work out what was happening between Ron and I, support Harry because he was
still upset about leaving you. Plus trying to spend time with my parents and not feel guilty about
the lies I was telling them. I had no time, really.”

“I was so jealous of you, being with him, being needed by him.”

“If it makes you feel any better, Harry was annoyed with me pretty much the whole time…”

“Why?”

“Well, you’d think after six years of knowing him, I would have learnt that Harry doesn’t like
talking about his feelings. I was so upset about loosing Professor Dumbledore and I was sure that
Harry was devastated since he saw it happen and well, the professor was more than just a headmaster
to him. But Harry had already built up a wall and was placing his emotions behind it. He really
didn’t like me trying to expose what he was trying so hard to hide.”

“I can imagine,” Ginny injected with a smile, “even by the wedding he had, hardened, I guess you
can say.”

“Yeah,” Hermione sighed, “he had all this stuff going on, and was trying to do it all alone. Ron
and I had to force him to include us, emphasising time and time again that it didn’t matter if he
kept pushing us away, that we would never leave him. At least the wedding broke his mood, for a day
any how.”

“I was so upset when I saw him,” Ginny continued, thinking “and when he ignored me, it hurt, it
really hurt.”

Hermione remembered the day Bill and Fleur got married. She, Ron and Harry had arrived the night
before to a house that was full to overflowing with people. The mood in the ramshackle home varied
from utter chaos (which usually involved the twins in one way or another), blissful happiness
(whenever either Bill or Fleur entered the room), organised panic (Ron unknowingly eating some of
the wedding feast food caused Mrs Weasley to go into such a fluster that no one dared to approach
her for a couple of hours) to sombre acknowledgement that neither Percy or Albus Dumbledore would
be attending.

During the day of the wedding, Ginny and Ron were often whisked away to help the Weasley family
in some form and both would come back to Harry and Hermione flustered and angry – Ginny had spent
the weeks since leaving Hogwarts helping with wedding preparations which had left her in a less
than pleasant mood. When Neville and Luna joined the guests mulling around the Weasley garden, the
group of four grew to six. And Ginny was right – Harry had ignored her completely, averting his
eyes whenever she came near and only uttering what was absolutely necessary when she spoke to him.
Soon she gave up trying and stole Luna away from the group so she wouldn’t be alone.

By the time the ceremony happened, a reserved calm surrounded the Weasley garden and under the
July sun friends and family watched the young couple get married. Hermione had sat between Harry
and Ron and cried silently as the vows and rings were exchanged. She had never thought much about
marriage, logically thinking it was never going to happen to her. But sitting there watching Bill
and Fleur pledge their love for each other made her start to wonder, even hope, that one day she
too will find a man who she loved so much, and loved her in return, that they would want to spend
the rest of their lives together.

Looking back now, as she lay on the couch in her small, comfortable flat, knowing that her life
was getting closer and closer to ending, Hermione reflected on the one regret she had of dying
young. She was never going to be married and have a family of her own. All her life, having a
family was going to be secondary to her – she wanted a career, and that was going to come first.
She had worked hard to be the best so that when her schooling was over, she could be whatever she
chose to be. She had still wanted a family, but later on. She was young, she had thought, she had
plenty of time.

Many choices were out of her reach now but strangely it was the loss of a family which was her
only regret. Still, this conversation wasn’t about her and her fate but about Harry.

“He was hurting too Ginny,” Hermione said finally, “and he thought what he was doing was for the
best…”

“He told you that?”

“Yes, he did. It was the only time that summer when he actually talked to me about what he was
feeling.”

“What did he say?” Hermione looked at her friend and she once more saw the thirteen year old
school girl that had spent so many nights on her bed, talking about how she felt about the famous
Harry Potter and how he didn’t even know she was alive. Sighing, Hermione replied.

“He thought he had done the right thing, breaking up with you, but he couldn’t understand why he
hurt. It had been his choice and in his mind the right choice, so there shouldn’t have been any
side effects. I told him he had done the wrong thing and that you wouldn’t stand by when you find
out that Ron and I were going with him…”

“You weren’t wrong there.”

“No. No, I wasn’t. Well, he got a bit peeved, we talked some more and he admitted he still cared
for you and that seeing you again was going to be difficult. That’s when we came up with the plan
that I wouldn’t leave him the whole time we were at your place. And it worked.”

“Always helping him, weren’t you Hermione.” Hermione frowned at the sarcasm that dripped off
Ginny’s words, her own anger disappeared when she saw the tears that had welled up in her friend’s
eyes.

“Yeah, I was Ginny. He was my best friend.” Once again the two women looked at each other in
silence, but Hermione wasn’t remembering – she just waited until Ginny could get herself under
control.

“I thought that if I went with him, went with you all, on the quest, that things would change –
he would change, and he’d be the boyfriend he was for that short time…”

“I know,” Hermione said sadly, already guessing that this was the real reason Ginny had forced
her way on the search for the horcruxes, “but Harry had already changed – just not how you
wanted.”

“I was so stupid,” Ginny continued, lost in her own thoughts, “thinking that just being with me
would make him happy again. I didn’t really understand what he was going through. You did
though.”

Hermione thought about the months they spent searching for the remaining horcruxes, how horrible
the experience ended up being. Neville and Luna had also forced their way into the party, their
inclusion annoying Harry no end, but they would not have found all the pieces without the whole
team and Harry, Hermione and Ron definitely would not have survived.

Still, it had been difficult. Harry had become extra moody due the added pressure the presence
of his friends seemed to place on him, taking his frustrations out on the people around him – Ginny
found his outbursts hard to handle, Hermione hadn’t. Ginny was right though, Hermione had
understood why Harry acted the way he did and it was only Hermione who seemed to be able to bring
him back to being the Harry that they all knew. It had all been so difficult.

“When did you know?” Ginny’s tentative question broke Hermione out of her reverie, and once more
she looked at her friend.

“Know what?”

“That you loved Harry.” The two women looked at each other, neither seemingly wanting to break
away. Hermione thought quickly about how she should reply – she hadn’t admitted to anyone (even
herself, part of her reasoned) about how she felt about Harry, and was still unsure whether she
wanted to do so. However, the events of the past week made up her mind for her. Already her life
had changed dramatically with his return, she really just couldn’t be bothered with lying any
more.

“When my parents were murdered,” she finally replied, smiling sadly, “I still remember it
vividly. I was hiding in the attic of Grimmuld Place, where Buckbeat had been, wanting to be alone,
trying to get my head together.”

“It was near the end,” Ginny remembered, “it was horrible, the whole thing with your mum and
dad.”

“Yeah, it was. Everyone had tried to make me feel better, I guess, Ron failing miserably,”
Hermione chuckled briefly, “Harry had been so quiet, so remote, and all I kept thinking was that I
needed to get through this, I needed to be strong, for Harry. I went to the attic to try and find
that strength. But instead I kept thinking of was the lies I had told my parents, the way I had
shut them out of my life, how they didn’t even know the reason they had been killed.

“And then he came. He didn’t say anything at first, he just sat next to me really close – but
not touching. I could feel him, but I didn’t want him to see me, to see my tears. He reached out
and took my hand, intertwining his fingers with mine and said that he was sorry. That was it, I
lost it and began to cry and cry and cry. I cried for mum and dad, for Hagrid and Dumbledore. I
cried for the hell I had been living in for the past months, for how afraid I was that I’d loose
everything, for Ron and you and…everyone. I remember he just wrapped his arms around me without
saying anything more and I clung to him as I bawled. When I couldn’t cry anymore, I pulled back
from him…” Hermione paused as she remembered what happened next, a light blush touching her
cheeks.

“Did…did you guys kiss?” Ginny asked tentatively, not sure if she really wanted to hear the
answer. Slowly Hermione nodded.

“He rested his forehead on mine, ignoring the running nose and wet face from my outburst, and
told me that he really appreciated what I had given up to help him, that he admired and respected
me, that he could never be able to repay me for the sacrifices I had made. He said that he was glad
we had found each other and that no matter what happened, I would always hold a place in his
heart.”

“He was saying good-bye.”

“Yes, he was saying good-bye,” Hermione repeated, “which just started the tears again. Then he
kissed me. That’s when I knew that he was more than just my best friend, and that I would be lost
without him in my life. A week later he was gone and everything changed.”

“Oh Hermione,” Ginny sighed as she went to her friend and gave her a hug, “no wonder this has
all been so difficult for you.” Hermione pulled away and wiped her tears from her cheeks with the
palm of her hand, noticing that Ginny too had begun to cry.

“It’s okay,” she said, trying to smile, “I couldn’t love him then because he was with you, and I
can’t love him now because he deserves so much more than I can give him. Besides, he doesn’t feel
the same…”

“How do you know that?”

“Because he never chose me.” Ginny sat back on her heels and looked at Hermione, who smiled
weakly back, a few remaining tears falling down her face. Wiping away her own tears, Ginny returned
to her chair.

“I thought I might talk to him,” she said eventually, “explain what was going on with me then,
kind of releasing the hurt I have been carrying around since he left. Neville suggested I let him
know that there are no hard feelings…”

“I agree,” Hermione nodded, “talking to him would be good.”

“How about you? What are you going to do?”

“Well, the three of us are going to get together on Saturday and I’m going to find out why he
left. That might release a few demons of my own.”

Ginny left a little while later, leaving Hermione alone in her flat. Going over to the
mantelpiece, she picked up one of the few photo’s that included Harry – it was at the wedding and
the three of them had tried to smile at the camera. She sat back down in the chair still holding
the photo, seeing the lack of life in Harry’s eyes bringing the sadness she always felt when she
looked at the three of them. Running a finger down the side of his captured face Hermione felt the
tears begin to flow and for the second time that day she cried over Harry Potter.



5. Harry's Story
----------------

**A/N – just a warning, there is a possible suicide reference in this chapter, but nothing
graphic.**

**Chapter 5 – Harry’s Story**

Harry walked into the bar he had agreed to meet Ron and Hermione in with an inquisitive eye,
unconsciously scoping the place out as a possible future employer. For a moment he forgot why he
was there, as he marvelled at how there was nothing quite like an English pub.

Seeing a lone figure in a corner booth, oblivious to the world around her as she sat reading a
book, Harry was bought back to the matter in hand with a thump. He had agreed to see his two best
friends with the knowledge that they wanted to know what he had been doing for the last five years.
He was always going to tell them – but it didn’t make it any easier.

Taking a deep breath, he made his way to Hermione’s table.

“Hey,” he said when he was close enough, causing her to look up from her book. Harry noticed she
was wearing glasses now, not that different to the ones he had worn since he was five, and although
she didn’t look as pale and sick as the last time they met, there were still large shadows under
her eyes and a weariness that hadn’t quite disappeared.

“Hey,” she said back with a small smile as she put her glasses away and closed her book.

“No Ron?” This time Hermione laughed.

“Ron’s time keeping skills have got worse over the years,” she said grinning, “added with Lenny,
well…”

“He does seem a handful,” Harry smiled along with her, “er, can I get you something to
drink?”

“Thanks,” Hermione replied, “just a lemon, lime and bitter.” Harry nodded his acknowledgement
and made his way to the bar.

As he made the order, he felt himself relax slightly. This was the first time he’d spoken to
Hermione since The Burrow (his visit at St Mungo’s had been brief and silent affair) and he hadn’t
been sure how she would be. But so far, so good – she was definitely less cool to him this time
around than the previous Saturday.

“So,” she asked as he sat down next to her, placing their drinks on the table, “how have you
spent your week?”

“Doing this and that,” Harry replied, “went to visit Dumbledore’s tomb, saw Remus and Tonks. Got
things sorted at Gringotts, saw Fred and George’s shop, said hello to Professor McGonagall, had a
chat with Ginny…”

“Really?” Hermione curiously looked at Harry, “how did that go?”

“Good,” he replied, “excellent actually. We both cleared the air, talked about why we didn’t
work and how she and Neville got together. They seem to be really happy.”

“Yeah, they are.” Harry watched Hermione as she paused and took a sip of her drink and saw the
flicker of sadness hit her eyes. Harry frowned slightly.

“But enough about that – how are you feeling?” he asked.

“Better,” Hermione said with an embarrassed shrug, “it usually only takes a few days to recover
after the counter-curse. This time, it took nearly a week but that’s to be expected. Sorry about
that, by the way, last weekend…”

“Why are you apologising?” Harry asked, shocked, “I should be apologising to you. I had no
idea.”

They both looked at each other, willing the other to speak. When no-one did, Harry broke away
from her stare and took a sip from his drink.

“What’s that,” Hermione asked quite suddenly. Unsure what she meant, Harry paused before
answering.

“Ah, iced water…”

“Not your drink, your arms.” Blushing, Harry realised what she meant as Hermione reached out for
his hands, turned them over so their backs rested on the table, and then pulled the sleeves of his
jacket slightly upwards. Harry watched as if hypnotised as she gently traced her fingers over the
scars that went the length way up his arm, starting from the wrist and up towards his elbow.

“I was in a very dark place,” he finally said, pulling his arms from her touch and rearranging
his sleeves so once again the scars were hidden. Hermione frowned and opened her mouth as if she
was about to speak when Ron made his appearance.

“Hey guys,” he said loudly as he made his way over, carrying a lager, “sorry I’m late but Lenny
chose today to try to colour things…”

“Colour things?” Harry asked, slightly confused.

“Yeah, we’ve just worked out how he managed to turn himself blue,” Ron said with a laugh as he
took a large sip of his beer, “Luna is doing the counter-spell as we speak. I’m the only one
drinking alcohol?”

“Sorry mate, didn’t think it wise for me to start to drink…”

“But you said you worked in a pub!”

“You worked in a pub?” Both boys turned to Hermione, who was now sitting between them. Ron had
taken Harry to Dumbledore’s tomb and they had talked briefly about what Harry had been doing – but
Hermione had not yet caught up.

“Ah, yeah, I did,” Harry said slowly, aware of the amazement in her face, “when I was in
Australia and…”

“You see, I’ve been thinking about this,” Ron interrupted, “how can you look like you do, work
in a pub and in Australia, for Merlin’s sake, and not get shagged?”

“Ronald!” Hermione admonished while Harry just laughed.

“It’s not like I didn’t have offers,” Harry answered, “but any girl I dated, I seemed to compare
with…” he paused and stole a look at Hermione (who was seemingly studying her drink and looking
quite embarrassed) before looking back at a smirking Ron, “…girls back home and none seemed to
measure up. Besides, your first was Luna and then you married her. I want my first to be the one
that I marry – what’s wrong with that?”

“Nothing, in fact it’s very noble. But Harry, you’re twenty three years old! Twenty three! How
can you be twenty three and not have had sex? I mean, well, I know Hermione hasn’t, but that’s only
because she’s sick. You’re the only other person I know who hasn’t! You! You who could shag anyone!
The famous…”

“Give it a rest Ron,” Harry broke in roughly, no longer smiling, “if this topic fascinates you
so much, we can talk about it later…”

“…because today Harry is going to tell us why he left.”

Hermione’s voice was quiet but determined, stopping the boys teasing swiftly. Harry looked over
the table at Ron who just shrugged and had another sip of beer, aware that his curiosity about
Harry’s sex life (or lack thereof) would have to wait for another time. Harry then looked at
Hermione and saw her watch him, all embarrassment gone and a hardness taking its place.

The atmosphere at the table had changed as quickly as if a button had been pressed. Gone was the
light banter that Ron’s ridiculous conversation had encouraged, replaced by a seriousness that
reminded Harry of the months leading up to the Last Battle. Sighing, he took a gulp of his own
drink before beginning to tell his story, his eyes not leaving his clasped hands resting on the
table.

“I really thought I was going to die,” he began, “that Voldemort was going to kill me, that I
was going to die for the cause. I thought I had no future and had stopped planning for one
after…after Albus died. All I wanted to do was kill Voldemort and Snape so it could all be over. I
didn’t want Ginny because I saw no reason – I was going to die. I tried to distance myself from all
you guys because, I guess I wanted it to be easier for you afterwards.”

“How could it ever be easier…”

“That’s just what I thought Hermione,” Harry interrupted, looking briefly at her before
returning his eyes to his hands, “when I woke up in St Mungo’s, I was confused. I shouldn’t have
been there but I was. I had survived. For a while I got caught up with everything about what we had
done, about the ending of Voldemort, about the freedom the wizarding world was now experiencing.
But it didn’t feel right. I didn’t know what I was supposed to do next – I never thought I’d get
that far. My whole life, it seemed, consisted around defeating Voldemort. My friendship with you
guys, Hogwarts, hell – just me! I was made to defeat Voldemort…”

“Harry, you know that’s not true…”

“Please don’t Hermione,” Harry snapped, once again looking at her briefly, “you want to know my
story – well, this is it. This is how I felt.”

“Sorry,” she said quietly. Taking another breath, Harry continued.

“I felt lost and so, so guilty. So many had died yet there were parties and stuff. And you were
still sick, Hermione, it just felt wrong. That’s when I noticed The Darkness…”

“The darkness?” Ron asked, finishing his beer, not bothering to get another.

“Yeah. It was small at first – anger, a feeling of helplessness. I thought it was just because
of what I’d been through, you know? But it grew a bit every day until it was getting too hard to
hide it from everyone. I knew I had to leave, to get away from you all. I needed to be alone. I
began to think about what I would do next, where I would go. After a while, I worked out a plan
with Remus that he would transfer money to a Muggle bank account to pay for whatever expenses I
had, which went on a credit card…”

“Credit card? What’s a credit card?”

“I’ll explain later Ron,” Hermione said quickly. Harry continued.

“…giving me the freedom to disappear from magic and sort myself out. Anyway, all that kept me
here was you, Hermione. I needed to know you were going to be okay before I could leave. I stayed
with you, waiting, wanting you to be alright and when you woke, for the briefest moment I felt a
happiness that I hadn’t felt for a long time.” Harry looked at Hermione with a hint of a smile, but
saw the tears in her eyes and reverted his stare back to his hands.

“When the Healers told me you were going to be okay, I left. It was like this blanket of
everything negative finally had covered me completely and I could no longer breath somewhere so
light. The Darkness had taken its hold on me. I caught a train to Paris and then the next available
one north was to Poland. I think Albus had a hand in where I was going because I really had no
idea. It was by pure chance I found someone who had an old woodman’s shack on his property that he
would rent to me for as long as I needed. It was secluded, had no water or electricity – perfect
for what I wanted.”

“What did you want Harry,” Hermione asked softly.

“The Darkness. I wanted nothing but the Darkness.

“Time meant nothing, I had no idea until I left how long I was there for. A local brought me a
sack of basic food once a fortnight but I ate only when I was hungry, and sometimes I didn’t eat
for days. I didn’t bathe or shave or change my clothes. I just sat and let myself be consumed by
guilt and pity and hate. I couldn’t remember anyone or anything good. I only thought of the dead
and how I had let them down. It got to the point where I didn’t see the reason to continue on – I
felt I had nothing to live for.

“I was sitting on the floor of this hut, watching my life drip away from me, when I saw them.
For the first time in over a year I saw some light. Standing in front of me was mum, dad, Sirius,
Hagrid and Albus. They didn’t say anything, but I knew they didn’t want me to die. And they
reminded me of the good in my life, the good that still remained, the good that was still in me.
With the little remaining strength I had left, I healed my wounds and began my fight against the
evil that had nearly consumed me.”

“Was it him?” Harry looked at her, amazed that yet again she understood.

“Yeah, it was,” he said to her, seeing her nod slightly.

“Who?” Ron asked, confused.

“Voldemort.” Hermione replied.

“Part of him passed on to me when he died and it took me another year of fighting before I could
finally control him. He’s still here, a small part of his Darkness is always with me…”

“Oh Harry,” Hermione breathed, unable to hold back the anguish in her voice. Harry saw a tear
roll down her face and quickly looked back at his hands. Seeing her cry over him wasn’t what he
wanted right now.

“I cleaned myself up,” he continued, a bit shakily, “and made myself ready to move on. I knew I
wasn’t right to come back to the UK so I kind of went in the opposite direction and flew to Perth
in Australia. I found myself in this lovely seaside town that seemed to be surrounded by amazing
beaches. I got into a boarding house where the lady who ran it, Mrs McFarland, took me under her
wing and made sure I looked after myself. She got me a job at her son’s pub and I found that it
suited me brilliantly. I worked at night, had a few hours sleep and then spent the day at the beach
swimming, thinking or just enjoying the sun. It felt fantastic to feel the brightness in a world
that never held that much light for me before.”

“You said you were only sleeping for a few hours at a time,” Hermione interrupted, “were you
still having the nightmares?”

“Yeah, yeah I was,” he said, still looking at his hands, “I hadn’t slept for more than three or
four hours in a row since before the Last Battle. You could say I was used to feeling tired…”

“Tell me about it,” Hermione muttered. He looked up at her then and saw her tears had
disappeared and been replaced by a weary understanding. Harry then looked at Ron who continued to
remain silent, watching his empty beer glass intently. Before continuing, Harry returned his own
gaze to his hands.

“After a while I knew it was time to move on again. I went to Melbourne, but was recognised, so
I flew over to New Zealand. I travelled around a bit until I settled in Queenstown and it was there
I met Alex and his wife Christine.”

“Alex?” Ron asked, finally speaking, “who is Alex?”

“Alex was a regular at the pub I worked at and when I was doing a few weekend shifts, we began
to chat,” Harry looked up at his friends, finally on a part of his story where he was comfortable
to see their faces, “he was in his final years of his psychology degree and found me an interesting
subject. After talking for a while, he finally remembered where he had heard my name before. It
turned out his parents were wizards, he was a squib and the news of us had reached as far away as
New Zealand. It was if all the pieces fell together. On the other side of the world, I finally
found someone I could talk to…”

“You could have talked to me,” Hermione interjected, “us!”

“No I couldn’t Hermione,” Harry shot back, “the things going on in my head were wrong! I needed
a professional to help me sort it all out…”

“A professional?” Ron asked, breaking through the tension that had surrounded the table, “this
Alex, was a professional mind healer?” Harry and Hermione looked at Ron at the same time, Harry
smiling at the innocence of Ron’s question.

“Yeah,” he replied to his friend, “Alex was a professional mind healer. And he helped me work
out the issues I had with my parents death, the Dursleys, Albus, and of course Voldemort. We spent
months talking and talking. We had done an Unbreakable Vow that meant Alex or Christine couldn’t
tell anyone else that they knew me or what we were talking about. Knowing that there was no way
anyone else would ever find out what I was saying gave me a freedom to say anything.

“Once we had worked through the past, we started on my future, what I wanted, where I was going
next. I soon realised that what I wanted more than anything was a family of my own and I knew I
wouldn’t find that anywhere but in Britain. It was time to go home…” Harry’s smile of satisfaction
that he had got through the telling of his story disappeared as Hermione abruptly stood, jarring
the table so that Harry’s mostly untouched drink sloped over the sides of the glass. She pretty
much knocked Ron out of her way as she went to leave the booth, not looking at Harry as she
received her bag and book.

“I…I have to go,” she stammered.

“Hermione?” Harry was confused – what had happened?

“I just need to go,” she shot back, “I’ll see you later.” And without another word, she was
gone. Harry looked at Ron, frowning.

“What happened?” he asked, repeating his thoughts.

“Go after her Harry, she doesn’t live far from here,” Ron said as he stood, “you’ll be able to
catch up with her.” But Harry was frozen, he didn’t understand.

“Harry,” Ron said with a bit more urgency, “go.”

“Thanks Ron,” he said, suddenly breaking out of his trance and without another thought he dashed
to the door. People were every where, hindering his view for Hermione and with a panic he realised
he didn’t know which way to go. Instinct told him to go right, so he did, fighting his way through
the casual pedestrians. He caught sight of her waiting at a set of traffic lights and sped up. She
had just crossed the road when he was close enough to speak.

“Hermione!” he called out, watching as she stopped but didn’t turn around. He was right behind
her now and noticed the hitching of her shoulders. Gently turning her around so they faced each
other, his heart broke as he saw the tears running down her face.

“Hermione,” he said softly, “talk to me. Help me understand why…”

“Why? After all I’ve done to try and help you, when you needed help the most – I couldn’t…”

“I wouldn’t let you Hermione, not that you couldn’t…”

“That’s not what you said Harry,” she cried, “you went half way across the world to find someone
you could talk to!”

“That’s what’s upset you? That I didn’t kill you with all the hate and pain that I’d been
carrying around for so long?”

“Yes!” Hermione yelled back at him, before saying more quietly, deflating, “no. Harry, how could
you go through all that alone? I could’ve helped you.”

“You would have died trying Hermione.” They stood on the street looking at each other, oblivious
of the people walking past.

“Did Remus know?”

“No. His instruction was to put a certain amount of money in my account once a month. He had no
idea where I was or how I was. I told no one.”

“Why didn’t you tell someone Voldemort was still with you?”

“Because I was scared and confused. I really didn’t know what was happening to me, I just
thought it was because of the fighting and what I had seen. I didn’t know it was him until it was
too late.”

“You shouldn’t have had to go through that alone Harry.”

“It was my choice.”

Hermione didn’t reply and instead just kept looking at him. Taking a deep breath as if to steady
herself, Harry watched her take out some keys from her bag before she returned to looking at his
face.

“This is my place, er…” she paused, taking another deep breath, and then continued, “do…would
you like to come in for a tea?”

“Yeah, thank you,” Harry replied, smiling shyly, “that would be nice.” Hermione just nodded and
without any further words she turned and walked up the few stairs to one of the doors in the row of
Victorian style house, Harry following closely behind.

**A/N – there you go. Slightly longer than usual but hopefully it explains why Harry had stayed
away for so long. You may get an update tomorrow – I’m planning to take my mother out for a jaunt
so I might not have time. Thanks for all the lovely reviews, by the way. I really appreciate
it.**



6. The House of Hermione
------------------------

**A/N** – thanks for all the reviews guys! Though it seems some of you have your mind in the
gutter! Tut tut. Not too sure about this chapter, but it definitely isn’t as sad as the previous
ones (and neither is the next one) but we are half way through now so…

Oh, and I apologise for the extra blank lines that keep appearing – they don’t show until I
upload into Portkey so I don’t know how to get rid of them.

**Chapter 6 – The Home of Hermione**

Hermione opened the door to her flat and made way for Harry as he followed her in. She watched
as he looked around the living room feeling, for some reason, apprehensive of what he would think
of her home.

“This is so you Hermione,” he finally said, turning to her with a smile.

“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?”

“Good.” She looked at him and tried to shake away the mental images she had of him fighting his
final battle with Voldemort, sitting alone, filthy and starving in a shack, waiting for the
darkness to come – but she couldn’t. Quickly turning away, she took her jacket off and made her way
to the kitchen.

“What would you like to drink?” she asked.

“Ah, a tea would be nice.” She jumped slightly as his voice indicated he had followed her.
Turning, she saw him leaning on the door frame, his eyes now inspecting her kitchen. She didn’t
reply but instead bustled around to make the tea.

“You don’t use magic?” he asked as she poured the boiling water onto the tea bags in the
cups.

“Magic drains me,” she replied, leading the way back into the lounge, “I use it very
rarely.”

“So we’ve both been living like Muggles – the Chosen One and the brightest witch of her
age…”

“Ironic isn’t it.” Harry smiled at the repeat of his words from the Weasley’s dinner before
sitting down in one of the oversized arm chairs. As soon as he made himself comfortable, a familiar
bundle of ginger fur jumped onto his lap and began to purr.

“Crookshanks,” Harry acknowledged, scratching the cat behind its ears, “how you doing buddy?”
Crookshanks just continued to purr.

Hermione watched the exchange between her pet and her friend, bringing back the tears which she
fought away with desperation.

“You make being angry with you very difficult Harry,” she said after a few moments. Harry looked
up at her a bit sheepishly.

“Sorry,” he replied, “you’ve got a lot to be angry with me about.”

“Yeah I have,” she sighed, “but, and don’t you dare tell Ron he’s right, you had your reasons
for leaving. I’ve spent five years thinking you had found happiness, that you had fallen in love
and had the family I knew you wanted so much. And now I find out that your life has been as much as
a struggle as mine.”

“They actually mirror, in a way. Both in darkness for two years and then spent three years
finding our place, accepting who we are…”

“You’re right,” Hermione said thoughtfully, “except your place has a future and mine
doesn’t.”

“Don’t say that…”

“It’s true Harry,” she interrupted, “you know the score, you spoke to Maggie. I’m dying and the
sooner you come to terms with that, the better off you’ll be. If you want to be around me, you will
need to accept what’s happening and deal with it because I don’t want people to feel sorry for me,
or treat me any different…” Hermione realised her voice had got hard, but she had struggled to get
everyone else in her life to treat her like a human being and not a fragile doll – she didn’t have
the energy to do that again with Harry. It wasn’t fair to him, but when it came to this, he wasn’t
the most important anymore.

“I’m trying Hermione,” Harry interjected, “but I pictured you happy, married with children of
your own. Or Minister of Magic – one of the two…”

“Minister of Magic?” Hermione unthinkingly laughed, her previous hardness disappearing, “I’m
good, but not that good!”

“Well, okay, maybe not the minister, but successful in whatever career you had chosen. I never
thought you’d be fighting for your life.”

“I’m not fighting Harry, I’ve finished fighting. This is a war that can’t be won. I’m just
trying to enjoy the life I have left.”

“Many thought the war against Voldemort couldn’t be won, and we proved them wrong…”

“Not this time. This time Lord Voldemort has won convincingly.”

She watched him as he turned his concentration back to the cat sitting on his lap, mirroring the
frown that crossed his face with one of her own. She needed to make him understand that this time
he couldn’t save her.

“I’ve accepted my fate Harry,” she said softly, after a few moments, “you need to too.”

They both paused until Harry seemingly resolved whatever was going through his brain – and
changed the subject.

“It must have been difficult for you, not being able to see for two years. What with no
reading…”

“Oh, I read. The wizarding world doesn’t have many facilities for the blind so I returned to
Muggle libraries and read Braille. I coped. I guess it was difficult, but no more difficult than
for you fighting for your sanity. Alone. At least I had my friends around me to help.” She waited
for her words to sink in. She wasn’t angry anymore – but she hadn’t forgiven him yet either.

“At the time, I didn’t even remember who you were…”

“I would have helped you remember…”

“I could have killed you! I was so full of hate…”

“We would have worked through it. I fully believe you would never have hurt me.”

“You had your own problems to deal with, mine would’ve consumed you…”

“Your problems would’ve helped me work through mine quicker so I could help you. I would’ve done
everything in my power to help you fight that bastard so you could have peace. You deserve
happiness Harry.”

“And so do you, yet he’s taken that away from you. And I’m going to do everything in my power to
make sure get that back.”

“You can’t do anything…”

“Don’t be so sure.” She looked at him and he returned her stare, their eyes locked in a silent
battle of wills. She could see the determination in his eyes that she had seen so many times
before, and she wilted. It had always been difficult for her to say no to Harry.

Watching as he turned his attention back to Crookshanks, looking comfortable and relaxed as if
sitting on her chair, in her lounge with her cat was the most natural thing in the world for him to
do, Hermione tried to get her thoughts together. His story explained why he left and why he has now
returned; but she wanted more. She wanted to regain the friendship they had before he left. No,
that wasn’t quite right – she wanted to regain the friendship they had before Ginny and their sixth
year at Hogwarts. Deciding to take matters in her own hands she took a deep breath and finally
spoke.

“I don’t know if anyone has mentioned that I have a spare room here since Ginny left…”

“Only a few,” Harry smirked.

“Really,” Hermione asked, curious, “who?”

“Let’s see – Molly, Arthur, Ginny, Ron, Neville, Fred, George, Remus, Tonks and I think even
Professor McGonagall mentioned there was a room going at your place…”

“You’re kidding!”

“No, it seems everyone thinks that I should move in…”

“Why didn’t you say something?”

“Because I didn’t think you wanted to speak to me let alone approach the possibility to flat
with you.” Hermione smiled in defeat.

“Well, do you want to have a look at the room? You wouldn’t need to pay rent, just your share in
the expenses…”

“I’ll pay rent…”

“You have no job!”

“There is always work for a good barman…”

“You’ll go back to bar work?”

“Yeah, at this stage. Not quite ready to hit the wizarding world full on.” Hermione nodded her
acceptance and stood. Harry ignored the annoyed look from a disturbed Crookshanks and followed
Hermione up the stairs and into a large room at the top of the landing, furnished plainly with a
queen sized bed, dresser, some shelving and a wardrobe.

“This is the room. You basically have this floor to yourself as my room and bathroom is
downstairs. What do you think?” She watched him look around the room and saw a satisfied smile on
his face.

“This is fantastic,” he said, his smile reaching his voice, “are you sure Hermione? I mean,
considering what I’ve done to you…”

“What you’ve done to me? Harry, you had your reasons for leaving, I understand that now…”

“That’s not what I meant,” Hermione’s heart skipped a beat as she waited for Harry to continue,
“Hermione, you have the right to be mad at me – to hate me even – do you really want me living in
the same house as you? It’s my fault you’re dy….”

“Don’t you EVER think that Harry Potter!” she practically screamed at him, “what happened to me
is not your fault! I may have thought many things about you over the last few years, but I have
never, ever blamed you for what happened to me and you better not start! Voldemort is killing me,
not you!”

“But…”

“There is no but,” she interrupted again, “this is not your fault!”

Closing her eyes with weariness, Hermione felt herself sway slightly as the shouting unsteadied
her. Not protesting when she felt the secure arms of Harry guide her to the bed, she sat down
heavily and held her head in her hands.

“I’m sorry,” she heard him say, his arm still around her shoulders.

“I know Harry, I know,” she replied as she looked up at him, realising his apology covered so
many things. Sighing, she continued, “it would be great if you shifted in, the house seems so empty
with only Crookshanks and myself here. And it will give us a chance to get to know each other
again.” Harry smiled and nodded.

“I’d like that,” was all he said.

“So, does that mean you’ll shift in?”

“Yeah,” Harry replied, finally dropping his arm from her shoulders, “I’ll speak with Molly, but
I can’t see it being an issue for them. When will be the best time?”

“Whenever you want…”

“Tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow is fine.” They smiled at each other before Hermione stood and left the room feeling
slightly nervous of what she had just agreed to do.

An hour later Harry was back, seeing no reason to wait, and they now sat together on his new
bed; Hermione watching as he unpacked and lay his belongings out, ready to be put away.

“Is that it?” she asked, amazed.

“Yeah,” he replied, taking out the last of his clothing items.

“So, you have…” Hermione began itemising, “four t-shirts, one jumper, two sweatshirts, two pairs
of shorts, two sets of long-johns, one pair of slacks, some socks, six pairs of underwear,
trainers, a shirt, a raincoat, a parka plus what you’re wearing…” which was jeans, hiking type
boots, a skivvy and a jumper, “this is your whole wardrobe?”

“Yeah,” he said again, not sounding the least bit embarrassed.

“This is five years of travelling?” she continued in obvious wonder, “Harry, is this everything
you own?”

“No,” he replied smiling as he lifted his other, smaller bag to the bed, “I have this stuff
too!”

Hermione was shocked and watched open mouthed as he emptied his other bag. She knew he had money
and that technically he owned Grimmauld Place but she had never known anyone with so little
possessions. Soon his toiletries, the photo album that Hagrid had given him so many years ago, his
wand, a small group of books that looked like journals and…

“What’s that?” Hermione asked, a larger but thin black leather bound book grabbing her
attention.

“It’s my sketch book…”

“Sketch book? You draw?” Harry smiled nervously at her, but Hermione curiosity meant that she
missed the first sign of his unease.

“Yeah, I draw,” he said, “mainly people. Alex had suggested it and, well, it’s quite
therapeutic.”

“Can I see?” she asked without really thinking but as soon as the words left her mouth, she knew
it had been the wrong thing to say. She saw fear jump into his eyes as all other colour left his
face, his internal debate practically visible to her, making her look away from him as if she had
been intruding into something intensely private. Which is what, she realised with a silent groan,
she had done when callously asking to see his sketches. She guessed no-one had seen them, that he
had hidden them away and had never meant anyone else to look – how could she be so stupid!

“Um, that’s okay,” she stammered, “it’s private. I’m so sorry Harry, I didn’t mean to…”

“I’d like you to look at them.” His words came out in a rush making her look back at his face to
see that he still looked scared, but an embarrassed blush now touched his cheeks.

“Are you sure?” she asked.

“Yeah, yes I am. Just, be gentle with me will you? No-one else has ever seen them.” She smiled
softly as she made herself more comfortable on the bed, leaning upright against the pillows and the
bedhead. Harry pushed his things aside as he sat next to her, hesitantly handing her his sketch
book.

She was nervous – she realised that in allowing her to look at his pictures, Harry was letting
her, and only her, see a part of him that no-one else had. In a small way, he was trying to make up
for leaving, for letting a stranger help him when it should have been her, for shutting her out.
Gently, she opened the cover, moved away the first page of tissue and saw a face that she hadn’t
seen for six years.

Albus Dumbledore looked out at her – wise, gentle with sparkling eyes. She felt a shock of air
escape her as the realness of the image brought back so many memories of her time at Hogwarts.
Harry had captured the qualities of the old headmaster with an accuracy that was uncanny.

Over the page was her own face – a younger version, but her none the less. She could feel Harry
looking at her so she made sure her eyes stayed on the book in front of her, knowing that if she
didn’t, she would certainly cry. He had made her look beautiful, more beautiful than she ever
remembered feeling when she was at school, and she fleeting wondered if this was how he really saw
her.

More familiar faces followed – Ron, Ginny, the twins, the Weasley’s in general. Hagrid, Tonks,
Remus – everyone that meant anything to Harry had been sketched in pencil on the pages, their
essence captured with stunning detail. Even Professor McGonagall made an appearance.

Hermione stayed silent as she turned over the pictures, lost back into a time where schoolwork
was paramount and keeping Harry alive was a seemingly daily affair. She finally turned over the
last page, closing the book gently. Waiting for a moment to get herself together, she turned to
Harry to hand the book back to him, knowing there were tears in her eyes.

“They are incredible Harry,” she said, her voice choked with emotion, “amazing. You are very
talented.”

“Thank you,” was all he seemed able to say, once again embarrassed. Hermione watched him
struggle to retain his composure and realised that he probably needed some time alone – and she
needed a rest. Without warning, he looked up at her and caught her studying him, making him
smile.

“You look tired Hermione,” he said gently, “it’s nearly five. Why don’t you go and rest for a
couple of hours, I finish off here then make you dinner.” She thought about his offer, then nodded
her acceptance, inwardly smiling that once again he knew exactly what she was thinking.

“I think I’ll take you up on that,” she said as she stood, “I am feeling a bit weary.” And with
a parting smile, she made her way down to her room.

A couple of hours later Hermione woke and could smell a wonderful Italian, tomato-type scent
coming from the kitchen. It took her a moment to remember that Harry was cooking her dinner and
when that thought popped into her mind, she went to her dresser and tried to make herself look
reasonably presentable. Finally satisfied, she made her way to the living room, only to pause as
she saw Harry putting the knives and forks out on the small table between the couch and the chairs,
an apron tied tightly around his waist – he looked adorable.

Her attention flickered away from him as she saw the familiar green glow come from the fireplace
and heard Ginny Weasley’s voice begin to talk to Harry. Curious on how this conversation would go,
Hermione stayed hidden in the shadows and listened.

“Harry?” Ginny asked, sounding very surprised, “what are you doing here?”

“Er, I just…”

“Are you wearing an apron?”

“Well, yeah, I am…”

“I thought you guys were just meeting to catch up,” Ginny interrupted, making Hermione smile,
“no! She didn’t? She must have!”

“Ginny, are you alr…”

“You’ve shifted in? Neville, Neville – Harry’s shifted in with Hermione! Merlin, I never thought
she’d actually ask!”

Hermione had had enough and could see that Harry was getting a bit flustered. With a smirk, she
made her way over to the fireplace and stood next to Harry, looking at the green head of her friend
hovering in the flames.

“Ginny?” she said, “this is a surprise. Is everything okay?”

“Don’t you talk to me about surprises Hermione Granger, especially when I find Harry at your
house in the evening wearing an apron without even a word from you!”

“Well, it only happened this afternoon…”

“But you only caught up at lunch time! Anyway, we’ll talk in more detail later. My knees are
getting sore and I’m guessing your meal is nearly ready. Just thought I’d remind you about lunch
tomorrow…”

“Tomorrow? Oh, goodness, I did forget!” Hermione turned to Harry, “have you got plans tomorrow?
We’re all getting together for lunch. It’s kind of a regular thing…”

“I think my social calendar is free…”

“Great,” Ginny once again interrupted, “see you then.” And she was gone.

“Mmm, what are you cooking? It smells delicious.” They turned away from the fireplace and
Hermione went to sit down in her favourite chair while he made his way back to the kitchen.

“This pasta thing I learnt,” he called from the stove, “hope you like it.

“I’m sure I will,” she replied, a wide grin crossing her face.



7. Happy News
-------------

**A/N – here you go and hope you enjoy it. Will hope to upload the last chapter for the year
tomorrow but movies tonight, New Year Eve celebrations and relative meeting may (and only may)
thwart that plan. Will try my hardest cause I really like the next chapter…**

**Chapter 7 – Happy News**

Two months passed and Harry and Hermione slipped easily into living together. Harry had got a
part-time job at the pub where he had initially met Ron and Hermione, working only three nights a
week, and spent the rest of his time relearning magic with Remus or looking after Hermione.

Hermione was back training as a Healer. Harry learnt her routine early on and made sure he was
around when he thought she might need him but gave her space when she just needed to ‘centre’ as
she called it. And she seemed to do the same – respecting the times that he needed to be alone as
much as the times when he enjoyed her company. In the two months living under the same roof, they
both accepted each others differences and needs easily and without conflict.

Harry was content. He and Remus were working out whether Harry had the ability to cure Hermione
– a mission done in extreme secrecy – and the knowledge that he was doing something to make his
friend whole helped keep his sorrow from overwhelming him.

He and Ron also spent time together, catching up and learning how to cope with the extremely
different lifestyles they both led. It wasn’t as easy as with Hermione, but Harry still treasured
his times with his old best friend.

His return to the wizarding world went pretty much un-noticed – helped by his Muggle job and his
circle of close friends. Life was good.

It seemed that the group of five friends had met fortnightly for lunch for many years, using the
time to catch up on news that they may have somehow missed. Harry was soon included in the
tradition, but was often the observer at the now familiar café, letting his friends participate in
a complex communication ritual where many spoke, often at once, on totally different subjects only
to find that all had understood all - somehow.

This particular Sunday, Harry and Hermione joined Neville and Ginny and chatted as they
patiently waited for Ron and Luna (who were almost always late). On their arrival, food orders were
made and once again Harry just sat back and watched the interactions of his friends.

They were all so easy with each other, the bond that had formed when they were kids making the
connection between them all relaxed and intuitive. A pang of sadness hit him as he realised that
his five years away had deprived him of this closeness with his friends, how much he had missed and
that he still had a long way to go to get the connection that they all had, back.

“Harry?” Hermione’s voice broke him out of his reverie, “are you okay?” He turned to her and
smiled, aware that the conversation had died and all were listening for his reply.

“I’m fine,” he said, “just thinking how much I missed you guys and its good to be back.”
Hermione seemed satisfied with his answer, as did everyone else though the appearance of the food
meant that no-one commented any further.

As the plates were taken away and coffee orders were made, both Ginny and Ron began to
speak.

“We’ve got news,” they chorused before looking at each other with confusion.

“You first,” they both said, smiling at their unscripted duet while the rest of the table began
to chuckle.

“No, you!” they again chorused.

“Will just one of you speak, please,” Hermione laughed, “ladies first.”

“Well,” Ginny spoke, still smiling, “Neville and I are getting married!”

The table broke into spontaneous applause and congratulations were said to the happy couple,
Ginny waiting until everyone sat back down before she continued.

“Neville asked me on Friday…”

“But we thought today would be the best time to tell you all in one go…”

“Mum and dad know already and we’ve begun sorting things out…”

“When are you going to have the ceremony?” Hermione asked, her face beaming with joy.

“Well, we thought around August,” Neville replied, his own face matching Hermione’s in
happiness, “at The Burrow…”

“And of course you and Luna will be my bridesmaids…” Ginny piped in.

“And Ron and Harry, it would be brilliant if you’d be my groomsmen.” The table went silent.
Harry was stunned – Neville wanted him as an attendant?

“Oh, Ginny,” Hermione ventured hesitantly, “I’m not sure if that’s such a good idea. I’m
honoured, I really am, but I don’t know how well I’ll be in five months…”

“Even if all you do is sit in a chair next to me as I say my vows, I want you there.” The two
women exchanged looks while the others watched, Harry still confused that he had been included in
the wedding party.

“Okay. Thank you Ginny, I would love to be included.”

“And I’m in too,” Ron said with his usual enthusiasm, “it would be good to see you finally make
an honest woman of my sister.” Neville and Ron stood to shake hands, sealing his acceptance.

“Harry?” Ginny asked, as all eyes turned to him.

“Are you sure Neville,” Harry asked, frowning, “I mean, I haven’t been around the last five
years. I’ll understand if you have other friends that you’re closer too…”

“Harry,” Neville interrupted, “you taught me how to be a man, gave me the courage to stand up
for myself and believe in my abilities as a wizard…”

“You did all that yourself…”

“I wouldn’t have even tried if you hadn’t been around. Please, agree to be standing by me at one
of the most important days of my life.”

Harry debated further in his mind about whether he should or not. Everyone remained silent as
they waited for an answer, but it wasn’t until he caught Hermione’s eye and she gave him the
smallest of smiles that he realised what he should do.

“Thank you Neville,” he said finally, “I am honoured and would gladly stand at your side. I must
say, you’re a lucky man.” Neville smiled and again stood, taking Harry’s hand in a firm handshake.
The table clapped again, and Ron gave Harry a hardy slap on the back indicating his pleasure.

“What about you Luna,” Ginny asked as she took a sip from her coffee, “will you join in the
fun?”

“I’m also honoured,” Luna replied, taking hold of Ron’s hand as they exchanged glances, “but I
may not fit into any bridesmaid dresses…”

“What? Why?”

“You’re pregnant!” Hermione answered Ginny question and squealed when Luna nodded. The three
women got up and began hugging while the men congratulated Ron, who kept seated but was smiling
broadly.

Harry was overwhelmed. A wedding and a baby – who would’ve thought? Just over two months ago, he
had been more or less alone, on the other side of the world, worried if the people of his past
would welcome him back. A resounding ‘yes’ would be the answer to that question.

“Oh, I’m so jealous,” Hermione exclaimed as she sat back down, drawing Harry out of his
thoughts, “of both of you! When are you due Luna?”

“The beginning of September. We’re three months along.”

“September! Well, I’ve got something to live for now! A wedding and a baby – I can’t believe
it!”

“Hermione, you have always got something to live for,” Ginny admonished.

“I do, I do,” Hermione replied, “but I missed Ron and Luna’s wedding, and Lenny was born when I
was still blind. I’d like to be there this time.”

“So would I,” Harry put in as the table lapsed into an awkward silence, “and I must admit that
I’m also jealous as hell.”

“You want a family?” Ginny asked, looking intensely curious – Harry frowned.

“Yes he does and I’ve told him that he won’t find a wife stuck in the flat looking after me,”
Hermione said, ignoring Harry and instead looking at Ginny with a sly smile, “but he won’t go out
and look!”

The two women included Luna in their conversation without words and soon a smile that matched
Hermione’s crossed her face. Harry watched them, still frowning, and shared a look of his own with
the other men at the table – who just grinned inanely back.

“Hermione, Ginny, I need some help,” Luna said suddenly, “would you mind coming to the ladies
room with me?” The three women got up immediately and left the table – with a confused Harry
watching them go.

“What was all that about?” he asked Ron and Neville.

“That, my friend, was you being in serious trouble,” Ron answered with a grin.

“What do you mean?”

“I think they are out to find you a wife,” Neville chuckled.

“What!”

“Yep,” Ron laughed, “be afraid Harry, be very afraid.”

“But I don’t want a wife,” Harry continued, “I don’t need them to find me a wife, I already
know…”

Harry didn’t finish the sentence, aware that he nearly exposed something that he was desperately
trying to keep to himself.

“Know what Harry?” Ron asked, suddenly serious, “you already have someone in mind?” Harry looked
at his friend and realised that Ron already knew that Harry had feelings for Hermione – but he
wasn’t quite ready to confirm that information to Ron just yet.

“No, I guess not,” Harry said quietly, not taking his eyes from Ron’s, “but I don’t want…”

“Did you miss us,” Ginny interrupted unintentionally as she and the other women returned to the
table – all smiling.

“What are you guys up to,” Ron ventured, trying to be serious but as far as Harry was concerned,
not pulling it off.

“Up to? Us? Nothing,” Luna replied to her husband, trying to look innocent.

“Blimey, look at the time,” Ginny said abruptly, standing and putting on her coat, “Neville, I
think we should leave.”

“Us too,” Luna said, also standing and grabbing her bag, “come on Ronald.” Harry watched with a
continuation of his frown as the two men shrugged and rose to leave while Hermione remained seated
with a contented little smile on her face. Money for the bill was exchanged, good-byes were said
and soon it was only the two of them sitting at the table.

“Please don’t set me up,” Harry said after a moment, “Hermione, promise me you won’t set me up.”
Hermione looked at him, her smile faltering.

“Why?” she asked, “Harry, you’ve said yourself that having a family of your own is the most
important thing to you. Well, to have a family, you need a wife. And to have a wife, you first need
a girlfriend. Which means you need to find a girl.”

“Look, that’s all well and good, but I have heaps of time to find my own potential wife…”

“But I don’t.”

They looked at each other and Harry could see the determination in her face. She wanted to see
him settled before she died, to see him happy and in love with another woman. Trouble was, he
didn’t want another woman – he wanted her. Closing his eyes and taking a deep breath, he tried to
hide the mixture of longing and sadness he was feeling, only opening his eyes when he felt he had
it all under control.

“Harry, you deserve to be happy,” she continued, “let us – let me – do this for you.”

“I’m happy how I am. I have everything I need in my life with you.” The words came out before he
could stop them, making him realise that he didn’t have things as under control as he thought. His
heart stopped beating as he watched anxiously for her response.

“I can’t give you what you need,” she said hesitantly.

“I think you can…”

“No,” she said with more force, “I can’t give you a family! Bloody hell Harry, I can’t even give
you a year of a relationship! You deserve so much more than me. You deserve a future with someone
you love. And someone who loves you back.”

Her words struck him with a deafening blow – she didn’t love him. He had prepared himself for
this moment, the moment when he found out his feelings weren’t and wouldn’t be returned. Determined
not to loose her friendship, he fought away the sensation of his heart breaking into millions of
pieces and looked at her steadily in the eye.

“Okay,” he said softly, “lets say I do this. Whomever this girl is, we go out and check the
waters. No hard feelings if it doesn’t work out?”

“No hard feelings.” Harry smiled ever so slightly at her reply, noticing that her attempt at a
smile never reached her eyes.

“Are we still good Hermione?” he asked tentatively, “because I don’t want things to be awkward
between us. You will always make me happy no matter what our relationship is…”

“I’m sorry…”

“What for?”

“For not being there for you.” They continued to look at each other in silence until Harry
gently reached out across the table and took her hands in his.

“You have always been there for me,” he said, “if not physically, at least in my mind. And you
always will be. You are my best friend, Hermione, always have been and always will be. You and I,
we know each other, we know what the other is thinking or feeling without really having to explain.
We’ve faced death together and survived so many times that it’s scary. You have stuck by me when I
didn’t deserve it, you’ve been there when I’ve needed you most.

“Yet I’ve let you down and it seems I’m still doing that. I’m sorry. I don’t want you to feel
uncomfortable around me because of this. Promise me you won’t feel uncomfortable around me.”

Hermione was silent, staring down at their hands as Harry waited for her to get her thoughts
together, hoping like hell he hadn’t ruined things once again.

“You were gone for so long,” she finally whispered, “and I got sicker and sicker. One of the
reasons I accepted that I wasn’t going to be around for much longer was that when I died I would
see you again.” She looked up at him before she continued.

“You were dead to me Harry, I had shut you out of my heart as well as my thoughts. But now
you’re back and we have slipped back into the relationship we had before the Final Battle so
easily. These past months have been some of the happiest times in my life.”

“Same here…” he started before she interrupted with a frown.

“But I’m dying and I haven’t got anything to give to anyone – I just don’t have the energy.
Harry, you need to understand – I have nothing to give. I felt something for you once but have
spent five years forgetting what that was. And now any choice of a future with you or anyone else
has been taken away. I don’t think I’ll see another year in and I want to enjoy the time I have
left. I would really appreciate that you be just the best friend that you can be, that you have
been, because I can’t keep feeling guilty that I’m holding you back, or that I should be giving you
more. I just can’t.”

“I can do that,” Harry said just as quietly, “and I don’t want you to ever feel guilty over me,
because then I would start feeling guilty about you feeling guilty and then, well, it would just be
one big mess.”

Hermione smiled and let out a little chuckle, which in turn made Harry smile.

“Okay, no guilt,” she laughed, “just two best friends, guilt free and happy – right?”

“Right.”

His confirmation signalled that the conversation was over and though things had changed between
them, they also stayed the same. As Harry opened the door for Hermione as they exited the café, he
mentally began working out a timetable in his brain that he would discuss with Remus the next time
they met, a new determination making his thought processes succinct and formulated. He had to make
sure she would be alright for Ginny and Neville’s wedding, which then would mean she would be
alright for the birth of Ron and Luna’s second child. And if it all actually worked and he
survived, well then maybe – just maybe – she’d give them a chance.



8. Realisation
--------------

**A/N – well, this is the last chapter for 2005. I may update tomorrow, depends totally on the
level of my tiredness and/or hangover. Now, just a warning – if you have cried with previous
chapters, you will cry with this one – it’s very sad. Oh, and there is also song lyrics in this
chapter, it is from Evanesence and the song is ‘My Immortal’ – great song, great band. So, enjoy.
Have a great, fun but safe New Year and see you next time!**

**Chapter 8 – Realising**

Hermione woke up with a content smile on her face. For the first time in a long while she felt
rested and it felt good. She stretched and noticed that she was still wearing yesterday’s clothes –
the thought made her inwardly cringe. Glancing at her bedside clock, she saw that it was nine in
the morning.

*The last thing I remember was seeing the weather after the news, which would have been around
seven. I’ve been asleep for fourteen hours* she thought sadly *I should feel refreshed.*
Sighing, she got out of bed and made her way to her bathroom, thinking that she’d have to thank
Harry once again for putting her to bed after seemingly finding her asleep on the couch. It had
been happening a lot lately and she made a mental note that perhaps she should start reading
already dressed for bed and in her room.

Hermione took yesterday’s clothes off and went to go into the shower when she saw her reflection
in the mirror. Pausing, she gently ran her fingers over the scars that angrily covered her abdomen
– a large gash from the spell Dolohov gave her a lifetime ago, and the marks from Voldemort that
were taking her life. Wincing at her touch, she saw that they had been weeping and the welts were
slightly swollen. Hermione closed her eyes with realisation – it had started. The end that she knew
was coming, had prepared herself for, had begun.

Stepping into the shower, she let the water wash away the anxiety she felt, ignoring the
stinging that came from the near open wounds on her stomach.

With a feeling of unreality Hermione dressed and made her way to the kitchen, ready to make
herself some breakfast. Determined to hide these new developments from Harry until it was
confirmed, she was more than a little surprised when she saw a woman, dressed only in one of his
large t-shirts, standing at the bench drinking some coffee – suddenly all thoughts of her
deteriorating health disappeared.

“Anna?” The other woman turned at Hermione’s voice and smiled. Anna had been the woman Luna,
Ginny and Hermione had introduced to Harry a couple of months ago. She worked with Luna at the
Quibbler and seemed perfect for Harry – from Australia, didn’t really know of Harry’s fame, smart,
attractive and able to stick up for herself. The three matchmakers had been very pleased at their
choice of partner for their friend as the two seemed to hit it off. For a while Hermione hardly saw
her flat mate as he had wined and dined Anna – but this was the first time she had stayed over.

“Oh, hi Hermione,” Anna purred, “I was just ready to cook Harry a full breakfast but, to be
frank, you don’t really have the ingredients. Shame, I’m sure he would have loved a hearty meal,
especially after last night.”

“We don’t usually eat much in the morning,” Hermione replied, frowning slightly – Harry hates a
full breakfast. Too much starch to start the day, were his exact thoughts on the matter, “both not
really morning people.”

“He seemed fine this morning,” Anna continued as Hermione came in to get her cereal.

“You had a good night then?” Hermione politely asked, not too sure if she really wanted to hear
the answer.

“Oh yes, it was fantastic! It was so late by the time we left the club that Harry offered me a
bed here! Who am I to refuse the famous Harry Potter!”

“Famous?” Alarm bells went off in Hermione’s brain – this didn’t sound good.

“Yes! I didn’t realise how much until last night when we nearly got mobbed…”

“By who?”

“Some girls. They had been at Hogwarts with Harry, evidently. Seemed quite taken by him.”

Hermione frowned at this news but was unable to reply as she heared her name being called from
the fireplace in the lounge. Leaving her forgotten bowl of cereal on the counter, she went to speak
to the head floating in the hearth.

“Hey Ginny,” she said, still frowning, “how are you?”

“Fine, hey – are you guys still coming to The Burrow on Sunday?”

“As far as I know – why?”

“Mum’s beginning to panic. She wants Harry’s birthday to be special and…Anna?” Hermione looked
behind her to see Anna had joined them in the lounge.

“Harry’s birthday?” she repeated, “when’s Harry’s birthday? He didn’t tell me it was coming up
soon.”

“He didn’t want us to make a fuss…” Hermione replied, not feeling quite right with this whole
conversation.

“Where is he?” Ginny asked, her frown matching Hermione’s.

“Having a shower,” Anna replied, a smile that seemed just a little too triumphant for Hermione’s
taste crossing the other woman’s face. Ginny nodded her acknowledgement in silence before turning
her attention back to Hermione.

“Anyway, mum wants you to come a bit earlier, before Harry gets there, so we can make secret
plans.”

“No problem – I’ll tell him we’re discussing your underwear requirements for the wedding – that
will keep him away.” Ginny laughed.

“I should be there too,” Anna injected, “after all, I am his girlfriend.” Ginny and Hermione
looked at each other, not too sure what to say and luckily it was then Harry chose to come into the
room.

“Hey ladies,” he said nonchalantly before noticing Ginny in the fireplace, “and Ginny,” he added
on.

“I think you’ve just insulted me Potter,” Ginny laughed – a laugh which quickly died as Anna
pulled Harry into an exuberant kiss. Both Ginny and Hermione shared a confused look, missing Harry
pulling away from Anna slightly annoyed.

“No insult intended Weasley,” he replied, flustered.

“Well, got to go. Talk to you later Hermione, Harry,” and with that Ginny’s head
disappeared.

Realising she had nothing else to look at other than the couple in the room, Hermione steadied
herself as she turned to return to the kitchen, wincing slightly as the movement irritated the
wounds on her abdomen.

“You okay Hermione?” Harry asked, immediately leaving Anna as he walked over to her side.
Hermione saw a dark cloud cross her flatmate’s girlfriends face before Anna announced loudly that
she was going to finish making Harry’s breakfast.

“I’m fine,” Hermione replied with a smile, changing her mind about breakfast and instead started
to gather her books together so she could leave for her classes – and a visit to her Healer, “so,
you sly dog, you finally did it huh?”

“Did what?”

Hermione paused placing a shrunken book into her bag as she saw the genuine confusion on his
face.

“Harry, your girlfriend of two months is in the kitchen making you breakfast dressed only in
your t-shirt after sleeping in your bed…”

“She didn’t have anything to sleep in so I lent her a t-shirt…”

“Don’t change the subject!” Hermione interrupted, chuckling at her friend’s evasions, “Harry, I
think its great you guys finally went to that next level in your relationship. I’m happy for
you!”

“Next level,” Harry repeated, obviously still puzzled. Hermione literally saw the realisation of
what their conversation was all about hit Harry as his face turned a brilliant shade of red, “oh
no, you think we had sex?”

“Didn’t you?”

“No! No,” Harry began to pace and once again Hermione watched with amusement. If she didn’t
leave soon, she would miss her train, but this was too good not to see to the end.

“After I carried you to bed…”

“Thank you for that, by the way.”

“No problem,” this time it was Harry’s turn to smile, “any one would think you fall asleep
waiting for me, checking up on me…”

“No! That’s not true! I swear!”

“I know, I know – I’m only teasing. But you have been falling asleep on the couch a lot lately,”
Harry had moved closer to where Hermione was standing and she felt his concern sweep over her, “are
you going to see Healer Gower about it?”

“Yeah,” Hermione answered, knowing she couldn’t hide this from him, “today. But you’ve digressed
from the topic Mr Potter.” She smiled up at him as he once again blushed.

“She said she was too tired to go home, so I offered her my bed. After removing you from the
couch, I slept down here.”

“You slept here?” Hermione repeated, shocked.

“Yeah.”

“Oh, Harry,” she laughed as she put her bag over her shoulder, ready to go.

“What?”

“Normally, when a man invites a woman to his home after a date, it usually indicates he wants
sex. And when a woman agrees, it usually indicates that she wants sex too.”

“Anna did seem a bit angry when I told her I would sleep on the couch…”

“I bet,” Hermione said as she made her way to the door, Harry at her heels, “you go and make up
with her. Are you seeing Remus today?”

“A bit later on. We need to go over some stuff. Hey, have you had breakfast? Don’t seem to
remember you eating…”

“I’ll get something at St Mungos, *mum,*” Hermione laughed as she leant forward and gave
Harry her customary goodbye kiss on his cheek, noticing that Anna had been watching them from the
kitchen entrance, “I’ll see you later.” And with the smile she left the flat.

Her commute wasn’t a long one – two tube rides and a small walk – and with her mind consumed by
the mornings events and the deterioration of her health, it seemed even shorter. Every time she
thought of Harry, she smiled. It amazed her that this man who had been through so much was still
such a plonker when it came to women.

Before she knew it, she was walking through the busy corridors of the wizarding hospital,
following a route she had taken many, many times in the last few years – heading towards Healer
Maggie Gower’s office. Hermione had classes today, but they were a bit later. She knew she had to
see Maggie first and with a grimace she opened the door that led to her Healers office.

“Hey Christine,” Hermione said cheerfully to the administrator sitting at the large desk in
front of her, “is Maggie around?”

“Hermione, this is a surprise,” the matron-type women said, returning Hermione’s smile, “Healer
Gower is on the wards checking her patients, but should be back in about half an hour, if you want
to wait.”

“That would be great, thanks.” Hermione sat down in one of the chairs that was against the wall
in the small reception area, bent to get a book out of her bag and felt the same stinging sensation
in her stomach that she had felt this morning. Trying to ignore it, she sat up and enlarged then
opened her book, ready to wait until she could be seen.

“Hermione,” Christine said somewhat hesitantly, making the younger witch look up from what she
was reading, “honey, you’re bleeding.” Frowning, Hermione looked down at her stomach and saw a thin
line of red staining her blouse.

“Oh,” she said, her mind going numb, “this can’t be good.” Memorised by the red slash that was
slowly getting bigger, she didn’t see Christine send a summons to her boss or her Healers entrance
into the office a few moments later.

“Hey missy,” the young Healer said cheerfully as she came straight to Hermione’s side and helped
her up.

“Hi Maggie,” Hermione replied, her voice sounding distant in her ears as she let herself be led
into the examination room and office of her friend, “I think things have taken a turn for the
worse.”

“So I see,” Maggie replied, letting Christine place Hermione’s belongings in the room before
leaving, “lets get you in some robes.” With little more talk, Maggie began her examination of
Hermione.

Hermione let herself be poked and prodded with no complaint – she was used to it. She also knew
what was going to happen next, the results confirming the news she had already started to process
in her mind. All thoughts of Harry’s morning antics had gone and as she sat, bandaged and in a
borrowed blouse, looking at the woman who had looked after her for the last five and a half years.
Hermione took a deep breath and waited for Maggie to speak.

“I think you already know what I’m going to say,” she said softly, “but it’s not going to make
the diagnosis any easier. I’m so sorry Hermione.” Hermione nodded, fighting back the tears that she
felt were so unnecessary – she knew this would happen one day.

“I have to be here for Ron and Luna. Their baby is due the middle of September. And Ginny and
Neville…”

“I’m not sure if September is going to be an option…”

“That’s only two months away,” Hermione sighed, “I haven’t even got two months?”

“The curse has activated and has begun to do what we have been fighting all this time. Your
wounds will get worse as they deepen. Your body will struggle, causing the exhaustion to also
worsen.”

“What can I do Maggie? Can I do anything?”

“*We* definitely can do much to help you be around for baby Weasley number two,” the healer
said, emphasising the ‘we’ in her statement, “and you can still be a bridesmaid for young Ginny.
But you will need to make some changes.”

“Like what?”

“You will need to rest as much as you can which means no more Healer training, tube catching or
marathon running.”

“Right, I’ll stop the training for the London Marathon straight away,” Hermione laughed before
sobering, “lucky I still have a few books to read at home.”

“Yes, because that will be all you will be doing. I will visit daily to check on you and dress
your wounds. We can look at home help when things like bathing get too much…”

“It will get that bad?”

“Unfortunately. We’ve already discussed that you wanted to stay at home until the end so
eventually you will need help.” Maggie and Hermione looked at each other, Hermione’s tears still
not progressing to running down her face.

“Can you be there? When I tell them?” Hermione could handle the pain and discomfort her injuries
caused and she had come to terms with the shortness of her life for quite a while now. But telling
all those around her, those who she loved more than anything, those who had been with her
throughout her struggle – telling them that the end was now only a few months away was going to be
the hardest thing she has ever had to do.

“I’ll be there Hermione,” Maggie replied, coming around her desk and drawing her patient into a
hug. Hermione couldn’t hold the tears back anymore as she returned her friends embrace and silently
she cried on her shoulder.

The trip home seemed to take a lot longer than the trip to St Mungo’s. Hermione had told the
supervisor of her course that she could no longer take part and walked away with a tinge of
sadness. She said her goodbyes to the others of her class that she bumped into and then it was
over.

Sitting on the train, her mind began to logically list all the things she needed to do before
she was no longer capable and by the time she got to the flat, she was ready to sort her life out
and make sure she was prepared.

Determined to get as much of her tasks done while they were still fresh in her mind, Hermione
got everything she needed in one place and settled down to begin. With parchment and quill ready in
front of her, a drink and some food to the side for later and a purring Crookshanks on her lap, she
pushed the button on the remote control to the stereo and the music of a band she had never heard
of before began to register through the house.

One of the few things Harry bought straight away was a stereo. He had grown to love Muggle music
after his years working in bars and his selection of CD’s had interested Hermione after his
settlement into the flat. She found his taste more on the harsher, noisy type music but every now
and then she found herself enjoying a track or two from musicians she had never heard of. Her
selection today had been random. The blue cover with a close up of a face of a woman seemed
interesting, so with little thought she put it into the CD player.

Ideas began to flow onto the parchment, things that she knew she needed to do and organise while
she still could; a guardian for Crookshanks, who would have her personal possessions like
photographs and the like, the sale of her flat, changing her will to now include Harry. The list
continued to grow. She had thought of many of the items before but had told herself there was going
to be a more appropriate time to make the decisions that needed to be made – this was now the
time.

Pausing in her thoughts, she was distracted by the song that was now playing. A female voice
full of emotion was singing words that struck Hermione’s heart.

*When you cried I’d wipe away all of your tears*

*When you’d scream I’d fight away all of your fears*

*And I’ve held your hand through all of these years*

*But you still have all of me*

Harry. These words were about her and Harry. Forgetting the parchment in her hands, she grabbed
the remote and turned up the volume, listening to the rest of the song.

*You used to captivate me*

*By your resonating light*

*But now I’m bound by the life you left behind*

*Your face, it haunts my once pleasant dreams*

*Your voice it chased away the sanity in me*

*These wounds won’t seem to heal*

*This pain is just too real*

*There’s just too much that time cannot erase*

This was her song. This was how she had felt during the time he had been away from her. This
stranger was singing words that belonged to Hermione and her shock suddenly wiped all other thought
from her mind.

*I’ve tried so hard to tell myself that you’re gone*

*And though you’re still with me*

*I’ve been alone all along*

The song ended but Hermione made it start again. The opening verse, sung softly and beautifully,
made her think again of her relationship with Harry.

*I’m so tired of being here*

*Suppressed by all of my childish fears*

*And if you have to leave*

*I wish that you would just leave*

*Because your presence still lingers here*

*And it won’t leave me alone*

Harry. This song was about her and Harry. She listened to it over and over again, its lyrics
embedded in her brain. He had gone but he stayed with her, in her heart, making her insane with the
memories and the dreams she had had of their future together, which had disappeared with him. All
the times she had been there for him, comforting him – just being with him. And like the song said,
he had all of her. No matter how much she tried to deny it, no matter how much she told herself she
was happy that he was no longer alone, no matter how many times she told herself that it was for
the best – he still had all of her.

Subconsciously her hand rubbed over the bandages that covered her stomach, covered the wounds
that can never heal. But the song meant emotional wounds, wounds of a lost love that can’t be
replaced. Hermione felt those too.

All those years wasted. All those years when he had fought his battle without her and now they
only had two months, at the most, to…what, she didn’t really know. The song began again and the
despair she had held back began to break through her walls. She needed more time, she wanted more
time. How could God give her back the man she loved and then tell her she had to leave him after
less than a year together.

It wasn’t fair. Tears began to roll down her face, silent and large, as she continued to listen
to the words of her song.

*These wounds won’t seem to heal*

*This pain is just so real*

*There’s just so much that time cannot erase*

Time. She wanted more time. She wanted time to see her godchildren grow. She wanted time to see
Ginny, her best friend, enjoy motherhood herself. She wanted…

She wanted to grow old with the man she loved. But that wasn’t going to happen. It wasn’t fair.
Her tears were no longer silent and she hadn’t even noticed that Crookshanks was no longer with
her. Without even thinking, when the song finished – she had it repeat again. She had slipped to
the floor, her sobs wracking her body as her sorrow for what she had lost and what she was loosing
continued to consume her. She didn’t hear the front door open or Harry call her name. The first
time she was aware of his presence was when he knelt down in front of her and took her in his
arms.

“It’s not fair,” she said, her voice muffled from her cries and his shoulder.

“I know, I know,” he soothed, his hand stroking her hair.

“I don’t want to die Harry!”

She felt the anguish in her voice but didn’t have the power to control it. Harry didn’t reply
and instead pulled her closer. Through her tears she could hear his heart beat, and the smell that
was so distinctly Harry. These two factors plus the security she felt from Harry’s embrace began to
calm her down and soon she pulled away, suddenly embarrassed that she had let her guard down so
completely. Wiping her running nose and tear stained face on her sleeve (until Harry handed her a
clean handkerchief) she kept her eyes downcast, aware of his arm still wrapped around her
shoulders.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered when she finally felt she had everything under control.

“What for?” he asked softly.

“For feeling so incredibly sorry for myself. For having you witness that…”

“Hermione, you have nothing to apologise for. Do you want to talk about it?” She bowed her head
a little lower and felt the tears return, abstractly watching the wet patches their fall made as
they landed on her trousers.

“I’m running out of time Harry,” she sighed, “but I’m going to do everything I can to last until
Ron’s new baby.” She felt him tense, but didn’t trust herself to look at him. One down, so many
more to go.

“I’m going to help you get through this,” he said after a few moments.

“There’s nothing you can do…”

“There is plenty that I can do. I can be here for you, which is a lot more than I have been.”
She finally looked up at him and saw the determination is his eyes – his beautiful green eyes.

“You deserve more than to be my nurse…”

“I don’t deserve anything. You are the one that should have the world Hermione.”

“I will, I guess. When this is all over.” She watched as his eyes glistened with tears and
noticed for the first time, that he had already been crying. With a sad smile, she took him into
her arms and together they cried some more.

**A/N – Portkey and/or my computer is going very slow at the moment and answering all your
lovely reviews is taking a lot longer than normal so – I have read them, and will answer when
things speed up again. Thanks for taking the time to drop me a line!**



9. The News That No-One Wanted to Hear
--------------------------------------

**A/N – okay, so I’m not hung over but quite tired so this chapter may not be the greatest.
Hope you all had a wonderful new year – hard to believe it is 2006! Only two more chapters to go
after this one so…**

**Chapter 9 – The News No-One Wanted to Hear**

Harry was subdued as he entered The Burrow for two reasons. Today Hermione was going to tell
everyone what was happening with her – and Anna was joining them for lunch. The women were already
there, planning the surprise birthday party he wasn’t supposed to know about but did because Ron
was terrible at keeping secrets.

Seeing Hermione, Ginny and Anna together at one table was quite surreal – all women in his life,
all with different significance. The passing thought that he had dated a redhead, loved a brunette
and was currently dating a blond brought a smile to his face. Trust him not to stick to
convention.

“You made it.” Harry turned to Ron who had crept up behind him and spoke in whispers, “they are
making big plans.”

“I wish they wouldn’t.”

“Well, they are. You will need to be gracious.” Any thought of stealth was suddenly disturbed as
Lenny shot past and ran to his mother who, along with Molly Weasley, had been sitting with the
other women at the table. Hermione looked up and saw him standing there, giving him an encouraging
smile. He saw how tired she was and that she was in some discomfort. She will need to take some
more potion soon.

It had been two days since he had found her crying on the floor of the living room. He spent
that Friday and Saturday just being with her, talking to her and listening to the fears that she
needed to express. All the while Harry felt an anguish that he had to fight to keep under control.
The Darkness in him loved the feeling of despair and fed off of it greedily, forcing Harry to focus
on two things – saving himself and saving Hermione.

Anna had been quite angry that he broke their date for that Saturday night, but to be honest he
didn’t really care. Things had been going downhill for them in the last few days and he had more
important things on his mind. Like saving Hermione.

Lunch at The Burrow was served with much laughter as Remus and Tonks joined them around the
Weasley family table. Harry watched Hermione nervously, trying not to be too conspicuous but knew
he was failing miserably as both Ron and Ginny had noticed his concern and Anna was showing her
displeasure. When Healer Maggie Gower stepped into the kitchen an understanding passed between
those in the room.

Harry watched as Hermione stood and joined the other witch before he glanced around the table at
his friends. Tears had already begun to form in Ginny’s eyes while Molly had taken what looked like
a death grip on her husband’s hand. However it was Ron who scared Harry the most – he had gone
deathly pale, his eyes fixed on the cup on the table before him.

“Er, can I have your attention everyone?” Hermione started, a false cheerfulness in her voice,
“I guess I have some bad news …”

Before she could say anything more, Harry watched with amazement as Ron noisily pushed back his
chair and stormed out of the kitchen, trying unsuccessfully to hide the tears that were running
down his face. The silence was deafening, but he turned his attention back to Hermione, who had
been stunned by Ron’s departure, unable to finish her sentence.

“I’ll go and speak to him,” Luna said softly as she manoeuvred her heavily pregnant body out of
her chair and followed her husband into the garden. Harry looked past the quietly crying Ginny (who
was clinging to Neville), and onto Remus. They shared an understanding as Harry stood.

“Remus, could I have a word,” Harry said before catching Hermione’s eye with what he hoped was a
comforting look. She smiled slightly as she sat down in Ron’s empty seat and hugged Ginny who had
turned to her from Neville’s embrace.

Harry knew that he was doing this wrong, that this wasn’t how Hermione wanted this to go. But
seeing the way his friends had crumbled at her news, his need to save her took over.

The two men left and walked briskly from the house in the opposite direction to where Ron and
Luna were embracing. When they were sure they were alone, Harry turned to Remus with a
determination that scared the older wizard.

“We have to do it sooner,” Harry said, “we have to try the counter-spell in the next few
days.”

“It’s still unstable Harry, *you’re* still unstable” Remus countered, “we don’t know the
outcome…”

“As long as the outcome is that Hermione survives, that’s all that matters…”

“It’s not just the counter-curse we’re worried about and you know it,” Remus continued, “we
don’t know if you can control your power!”

“I know, I know. But the last trials were positive. We were just using the extra time to be
sure. We no longer have that luxury Remus!”

“You know that if it doesn’t work, you will die,” Remus tried another track, “she wouldn’t want
that to…”

“She deserves to live! Not this half life she has now, and she definitely doesn’t deserve death.
I will *not* let that happen!”

“Harry, you may not have a choice. We’ve been through this…”

“I have all the ingredients! I have more power than any wizard alive and I have part of the
curser in me! Why are we still debating this!” Harry watched his friend deflate, the resigned look
in Remus’s face making Harry realise he had won.

“When do you want to do this?”

“As soon as possible – tomorrow?”

“You will have to make her agree…”

“Agree to what?” Harry swung around and saw Ron standing there, his eyes red but a stubborn look
on his face.

“Harry feels he can do the counter-curse on Hermione,” Remus replied.

“What? How?”

“That’s what I have been doing with Remus,” Harry continued, “testing how strong I am, making
sure I could do the spell…”

“But no one has survived placing the counter-curse.”

“Because no one had all the parts needed. I do.” The two men stared at each other as Ron tried
to understand what Harry was telling him.

“Do you love her?”

“More than she knows.” Ron just nodded as if he knew all along.

“She won’t agree to it, you know,” Ron said, “especially if she thinks you might die.”

“We have to make her agree, make her understand. I can’t let her die Ron, especially if I think
I can stop it.” Ron breathed deeply and hugged a silent Luna to him, his eyes glassing over again
with tears.

“Then let’s make her understand,” the redhead finally said.

Harry and Remus fell in behind Ron and Luna as they made their way back to the house. Harry’s
mind whirled on what he was going to say to make her agree to do something that has never
successfully been done before. He re-entered the kitchen to find everyone calmly talking – everyone
but Anna who was sitting stone-faced at the table. Harry had forgotten about his girlfriend, and
even now her discomfort meant little to him. Hermione noticed them entering and looked nervously
between Harry and Ron.

“Everything okay?” she asked as Tonks went and stood by Remus and Maggie stood looking at Harry,
slightly concerned.

Taking a deep breath, Harry went and sat down in the empty chair next to Hermione, taking her
shaking hands in his, making her look at him as he spoke.

“I can fix this,” he said softly, “ever since I came back, I have been working towards fixing
this, fixing you and I think the time has come for me to prove it.”

“No Harry, this time you can’t be the hero,” she replied just as softly, “this time you can’t
save me.”

“Hermione, please listen. I have read, researched and spoken to everyone who knows anything
about the curse you have been struck with. And once I knew what I was dealing with, I have been
working towards making things right…”

“That’s what you’ve been doing with Professor Lupin?”

“Yes. I hadn’t used magic for a long time, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t. I can do wandless
magic without much of a thought. I can enter through most security wards including those on
Hogwarts and the Ministry. Remember what I said when I told you what I had been doing while I was
away? Why I had to leave?”

“Part of Voldemort became you, like before, when you got your scar.”

Harry’s heart broke as she whispered those words. He could feel that the logical side of her
mind knew how this conversation was going to end, that he could prove that he was able to do the
spell. And he could feel the conflict in her as she didn’t want him to put himself in danger for
her.

“Some of his power is within me as well as some of his darkness that I have to fight every day
to keep under control. I am more powerful than any wizard alive and I think you know that.”

“I…I’ve seen you do wandless magic. At home,” she whispered, her eyes full of tears, “but it
takes more than just power Harry.” Harry gently reached out and wiped away a tear that had escaped,
his touch causing more to roll down her face.

“He is with me,” he said, “let me do this Hermione. Please.”

They looked at each other, ignoring everyone else in the room – he pleading to her with his
eyes, her debating in her mind what she was going to do. He wanted to tell her how much he loved
her, that it was because of that love that he needed to this, he needed to save her – but he
couldn’t. However as he looked at her, holding her hands, watching her emotions flicker every now
and then across her face – he could see that she understood. She had always understood. Growing up
together there were so many times when they had communicated without words and at this moment, they
were doing it again.

It seemed like a lifetime, but in reality it had probably only been minutes, before Harry saw
Hermione nod, ever so slightly.

“Hermione?” he asked, “you’ll let me try?”

“Yes,” she whispered, “but you can’t leave me again Harry, you just can’t!”

“I’m not planning to.” Harry drew his friend into a hug, finally noticing the others in the room
who had stayed deathly quiet while the discussion had taken place. He smiled tentatively at Ron,
who still looked too pale but returned the smile with one of his own.

“No, I won’t let you do it.” Harry pulled away from Hermione and with everyone else, looked
towards the sound of the voice seeing a very angry looking Anna.

“What?” he asked in amazement.

“You expect me just to sit here and listen to you say you are prepared to die for another
woman?” Anna continued, standing and facing a now standing Harry, “I’m part of you life now, I’m
your girlfriend and I’m not going to let you do this! We’ve been together two months, I love you
with all my heart and you’re willing to give that up, me up, for her?”

“It sounds like you want me to choose…”

“Yeah, Harry, you are going to have to choose. Me or her, because you can’t have both!”

“Hermione.” The name hung in the air as Anna stared at him with venom. Harry was fighting hard
to keep his anger under control. The Darkness that had already enlarged from his despair began to
devour this piece of conflict hungrily, wanting desperately to grow and was gaining momentum inside
of him. He watched as his soon-to-be ex-girlfriend walked around the table and stand in front of
him, her eyes glistening with fury.

“You’ll regret this Harry Potter,” she spat.

“Is that a threat?” he asked, seemingly calmly.

“I know things about you that would make great reading,” Anna replied, “your lack of ability to
form physical relationships with women only one thing…”

“Is that all you’ve got?” Harry interrupted, “because, sweetheart, you’ll have to do better.
People have been making up stories about me since I was born – some have even written books. You
don’t scare me. You can’t scare me because if you do anything that harms myself or the people I
love it will be you that will have regrets. Do I make myself clear.” Harry knew that the power that
really only Remus had witnessed since his return had now begun to glow around him. Anna stepped
back, loosing her fury to terror. He could curse her – it would only take a thought – but it was a
soft hand on his arm that stopped him.

“Harry,” Hermione said, her voice close to his ear, letting him know that instead of pulling
away from him – she had come closer. The Darkness was once again beaten and Harry felt himself
return to normal.

“I think you should leave now,” he said to Anna, watching with no passion as his former
girlfriend turned on her heel and left the kitchen without another word. Turning to the others in
the room, who had all been watching in wonder, he forced a smile.

“Sorry about that,” he said, “didn’t mean to bring my dirty laundry to the table.”

“No problem mate,” Ron replied, his voice returning somewhat to normal, “besides, I knew it
would never work.”

“How did you know that Ronald,” Luna asked with a smile.

“Just because…”

Harry smile became genuine as he looked around the room at his friends, his eyes finally resting
on an exhausted looking Hermione. He was going to make this right, he thought determinedly to
himself, he had to make this right.

**A/N – so many of you were right – Harry can cure Hermione. But will it all turn out safely?
Will our hero save the girl? Find out tomorrow in the next episode of…**



10. The Cure
------------

**A/N – the part you’ve all been waiting for – who lives and who dies?** **Oh, and I lied at
the very, very beginning – there are only 11 chapters not 12, sorry.**

**Chapter 10** – **The Cure**

Hermione walked through the gates of Hogwarts in fear, clutching Ginny’s hand with all the
strength she had, Neville walking silently at Ginny’s other side. It was only yesterday that she
had told them all the news, meaning it had only been four days since Harry had found her crying on
the floor – everything seemed to be happening too fast.

The quickness meant she hadn’t had a chance to talk to Harry about what was going to happen next
as he had immediately gone with Remus and Maggie to ‘finalise arrangements’. Meanwhile, Hermione
had stayed at Neville and Ginny’s house, wanting to talk to her friend about what was going to
happen and to assure herself she was doing the right thing. Hermione was terrified. Not just
because what she had agreed to has never successfully been completed before but because she had
realised just how much she loved Harry. And she might again lose him. Because of her.

She spotted Ron talking to Charlie outside what used to be Hagrid’s hut and when they saw her,
they both came over. Ron and Hermione hugged while Neville, Ginny and Charlie looked on, their
parents and twin brothers soon joining the small group on the lawn.

“Where’s Luna?” Hermione asked, still in Ron’s embrace.

“She’s at home. We didn’t want anything to happen to the baby. Just a precaution.”

“Am I doing the right thing?” Ron pulled back at looked at her directly.

“He needs to do this Hermione,” Ron said sternly, “because if he didn’t try and we lose you,
then we would lose him too.”

“What if…”

“We can’t think of the ‘what if’s’,” Ron interrupted, “we need to have faith.” Hermione gave Ron
a small smile and nodded.

“We better go,” she said, “otherwise we’ll be late.”

Still holding Ron’s hand, with Ginny coming and holding her other hand, they all made their way
to the Quidditch pitch. It had been decided that Hogwarts was the best place to do the
counter-curse because of its size and remoteness. If things did go wrong, not much could be damaged
and the magical wards that surrounded the old school would hopefully protect the few people within
its walls. The school was empty besides the small group who had come to support Harry and
Hermione.

As they came into view of the pitch, Hermione saw Tonks talking to Professor McGonagall, Madam
Pomfrey and a medi-witch from St Mungo’s while Harry was in the middle of the ground with Remus and
Healer Gower. Hermione paused and felt the comforting hand of Mrs Weasley rest on her shoulder.
Both Molly and Arthur had been quiet since the lunch in their kitchen the day before and Hermione
knew it was because today they may lose two who they have called their own.

Taking a deep breath, Hermione made her way towards the trio in the middle of the field,
noticing that the group of women at the side had seen them and were making their way to join them
at the ground’s centre. Harry looked at her as she got closer and smiled. She tried hard to return
his smile but faltered. He had only been back six months, she had got used to him being in her life
once more – enjoyed him being in her life – and he may be taken from her again. It wasn’t fair.

“Hey,” he said as the three groups converged into one, his eyes never leaving Hermione, “glad
you could make it.”

“Well,” she said, again trying to smile, “I had an offer I couldn’t refuse.” Her voice shook
slightly as she tried hard to control the terror she was feeling. Harry grinned before turning his
attention to the others.

“This is what will happen,” he began, Hermione listening to his instructions like she had done
so many times to so many teachers seemingly so long ago – she returned to the learning faze
subconsciously, not even aware that a portion of her fear had been quickly replace by interest,
“every one will return to the castle except myself and Hermione. My understanding is that the
counter-curse will take fifteen minutes to recite and another fifteen minutes for the transfer to
take place…”

“Transfer?” Hermione questioned. Harry looked at her before continuing.

“The curse will transfer from you to me, that’s how it works,” he returned to addressing
everyone, “once the transfer has taken place, you will be able to return to the pitch where Madam
Pomfrey and Healer Gower will need to take control. If, for some reason, this doesn’t work – the
effect will be immediate. Hermione’s condition will improve and enable a few more years of life and
I will die.

“My concern is I still have a part of Voldemort with me and a great level of power. Remus and I
are not too sure what will happen if something goes wrong. If the shadow of Voldemort is seen – it
is imperative that it is destroyed. It may search for a new host, I don’t know. My death may
automatically mean it cannot survive, and I think that is the more logical theory, but if that is
not the case, you must destroy it. At the first sign of danger, you must all leave. Hermione,”
Harry turned to her and his look returned her fear, “this is the risk. I believe that nothing will
go wrong and the worse case scenario is that I die and you die a few years after. But there is a
chance that you may also die here today, that I may not be able to control my power. Remus and I
have been working hard to making me safe but, we can’t guarantee it. Do you understand that?”

“I trust you Harry,” was all she could manage to say, tears welling up in her, threatening to
take over. Harry nodded and returned to looking at his other friends.

“Right,” he continued, his voice still full of an authority that Hermione realised he didn’t
know he had, “let’s do this. Hopefully we will see you all in half an hour. If not, it’s been an
honour and a privilege to be a part of all of your lives. When I decided to come back, I thought
you all had a reason to hate me and cut me out of your lives, but you didn’t. Through all my
fights, all my struggles, it has been you all that have always been there. Thank you for letting me
be part of your family,” Harry indicated to Mr and Mrs Weasley, Charlie and the twins, “thank you
for all you’ve taught me and helped me,” this time he looked to Remus, Tonks, Professor McGonagall
and Madam Pomfrey, “and thank you for being the best friends a man can ask for,” his last words
were directed at Ron, Ginny, Neville and Hermione.

Hermione stood back a bit as everyone came to Harry to wish him luck and silently said goodbye –
just in case. Her resolve was fading. Everyone was used to her dying, why shouldn’t she just let
every thing be? They will miss Harry just as much, if not more, than her if he dies today. Why is
his life worth less than hers? Why…?

But before she could come up with more reasons to stop everything, she and Harry were alone in
the middle of the Quidditch pitch. He had conjured up a type of mattress so she wouldn’t have to
lay directly on the ground and with a trembling hand, she let herself be led to the low lying bed.
Gingerly she sat down, Harry kneeling in front of her.

“This is how I think it works,” he said gently, “you will lay down and I will place my hands
over your wounds and begin reciting the counter-curse. As far as I know, all you feel will be a
warmth and maybe a little pain, but I’m kind of guessing. What happens after that, well, again I
don’t really know. Are you ready?”

Hermione didn’t trust her voice so she just nodded. Harry helped her lie down and as he
tentatively began un-buttoning the lower buttons of her blouse, she closed her eyes, not wanting to
watch. He left the upper buttons clasped and opened her blouse in a way that her breasts were
covered and only her bandaged abdomen showed. She opened her eyes in time to watch him disintegrate
the bandages that protected the weeping wounds that criss-crossed her belly, exposing her
stomach.

“I’ll see you soon,” he said with a smile making something inside Hermione snap. She had to tell
him, she had to let him know in case it didn’t work. She couldn’t lose him again without him
knowing how she felt. Ignoring the intense pain from her wounds, she sat up and took his face in
her hands, kissing him hard, willing him to return her kiss. His surprise only lasted a moment and
he was soon kissing her back, his mouth opening slightly – a move which she copied and they were
now kissing with a passion neither had felt before. After what seemed like a lifetime, Harry pulled
away and she saw tears in his eyes.

“I just needed to tell you that I forgive you for leaving and that I love you,” she said, wiping
away the tears off his face, “and you better come back to me. Now, lets do this thing.” She lay
back down again and rearranged her blouse to how it was before. Her heart was pounding as she
couldn’t believe that she had done what she had just done. But part of her was relieved – what ever
happens now, he knew that she loved him.

Harry once again placed his hands over her stomach and she waited for him to start chanting.
Instead, he leant over a placed a kiss gently on her lips.

“I love you too Hermione, with all my heart,” he breathed before sitting upright and began to
recite a spell in Latin.

Hermione tried to concentrate on what he was saying but found her mind returning to the kiss and
the knowledge that her love was returned. Soon she felt what could only be described as a glow
begin in the depths of her belly before working its way up to her shoulders and down her arms and
legs. The warmth began to engulf her brain and all thought ceased for a moment. Suddenly visions
started to enter her mind – her meeting Harry for the first time, him and Ron saving her from the
troll, watching him play Quidditch, seeing him master the barriers to the Philosopher’s Stone, his
joy at her presents to him, him hugging her after she was unpetrified, his happiness at meeting
Sirius and knowing he had a godfather, his face at the Yule Ball, the times together getting
through Umbridge’s reign, him kissing her in the attic of Grimmuld Place. Every memory included
Harry. Every memory proved to her how much she loved him and how long that love had been part of
her life. He couldn’t leave her, not now.

The memories began to fade and a contentment took their place. Without really realising it,
Hermione floated into unconsciousness with a happy little grin on her face.

Her grin was still on her face when she woke in the familiar wards of Hogwarts sick bay. Light
was streaming through the windows and stung her eyes as she looked hesitantly around. No one seemed
to be there although it was obviously the middle of the day and Madam Pomfrey usually bustled
around her beds whenever there was daylight and patients around.

Frowning Hermione began testing herself, starting with feeling her usually tender stomach and
finding that it was smooth to the touch and no longer uncomfortable. Making sure everything else
worked, and finding it did, she began to sit up and look a bit more thoroughly around her. Where
was everyone? She was at the end of the ward, near the window, and she saw that a curtained off
section was near the middle. Around the bed that Harry had spent so much of his Hogwarts life.
Around Harry’s bed. Harry.

With a panic that began to consume her, she got to her feet. She was in her own pyjamas, and her
dressing gown had been placed at the foot of her bed. Grabbing it (and finding it was no longer a
struggle to put on) she walked down to the curtained area. Half way there, Madam Pomfrey entered
the ward, saw Hermione, and began to briskly walk towards her.

“Miss Granger,” she called, reaching out to her when she was close enough and guided her back to
her bed, “you shouldn’t be up.”

At Madam Pomfrey’s voice, Ron’s face appeared from behind the curtain for a second before
disappearing once more. Hermione frowned – why was Harry hidden away? Before she could put any more
thought to her question, Madam Pomfrey had her laying back down and was checking her out with
several charms and spells. But Hermione was distracted. In moments Ron was beside her bed, a grin
splitting his face in half.

“Hey sleepy head, thought you’d never wake,” he said with a laugh.

“How long have I been out?”

“Just over a week…”

“A week!” She lay back in amazement – she’d been asleep for a week?

“How’re you feeling?” Ron asked, a bit more seriously.

“Fine,” Hermione replied, with a small frown, “perfect actually. Everything feels…whole.”

“That’s because everything is,” Madam Pomfrey said, giving Ron and Hermione a rare smile, “you
are a healthy, young woman with a long life a head of you. You are cured, Miss Granger.”

Cured. She never thought she’d hear that word in relation to her – cured. But what was the
price?

“Where’s Harry,” she asked with urgency, “I need to see Harry.”

“His bandages are just being changed,” Ron replied, “and then you can see him. He’s been asking
for you.”

“He’s okay? But you said he was bandaged?” Hermione couldn’t hide the fear in her voice. Knowing
that he was alive was one thing, but did the transfer mean that his time was now limited, like hers
had been?

“He has the same wounds you did Miss Granger,” Madam Pomfrey answered, continuing to fuss around
Hermione unnoticed, “Healer Gower has moved her treatment from you to him.”

“Is…is it terminal?” She looked directly at Ron, willing him to say no, it isn’t terminal, that
Harry was going to be fine.

“We don’t know,” was the answer instead, but with a smile, “but the census seems to be that in
time Harry will be fine. He can tell you himself, if you like.”

With a last minute check from the school matron, Hermione got to her feet and tentatively
followed Ron to the closed off area. She was scared – what would she see?

“Knock, knock,” Ron called out, “newly repaired best friend wanting to visit slightly worse for
wear best friend.”

“Come on in guys,” Harry laughed, a sound that made a smile form on Hermione’s lips. Ron pulled
back the curtain and she saw him, bare to the waist with Healer Gower applying healing spells to
the angry looking welts that covered his abdomen, a pile of bandages to his side ready for
application. Harry’s attention seemed focused on what was taking place on his stomach and it wasn’t
until Ron spoke that Harry looked at them.

“Look who was found wandering the corridors,” Ron said as he sat down at Harry’s side. But
Hermione was stunned as she tried to comprehend what she saw. Instead of the brilliant green eyes
that was as part of who Harry was as his scar (and his unruly hair) was two dull, grey voids –
unfocused and what Hermione guessed was unseeing. He was blind.

“Hey you,” Harry grinned, “how’re you feeling?”

“Perfect, thanks to you,” Hermione replied, tears coming to her eyes, “how…how are you
feeling?”

“Well, I seem to have wounds and am feeling pretty fucked, but other than that – fine.” Hermione
let out a sigh of relief, she had been wrong…

“Oh, and I can’t see,” Harry added as an afterthought.

“You know, you should watch your language, there are ladies present!” Hermione turned from Harry
to see Ginny and Neville walking over to the end of his bed, both smiling. But Hermione couldn’t –
how could she? Everyone seems to be taking Harry’s condition lightly, but she couldn’t – he was
blind!

“Hermione!” Ginny exclaimed, finally noticing her standing to the side, “you’re awake!” Still in
her confused state, Hermione let herself be engulfed by Ginny and heard vaguely a stream of
questions about her wellbeing, but Hermione’s mind was stuck on Harry. It wasn’t until she heard
Ginny shocked voice cry out that she concentrated on her friend.

“What is it Ginny?” she asked.

“Your…your eyes. They’re green!”

“My eyes are brown,” Hermione frowned.

“I know they are! But now they’re green!”

“No they’re not,” Ron said as he made his way to Hermione and peered into her face, his own eyes
widening in surprise, “shit, they are too.”

“So you’ve got my eyes,” Harry piped up, still being administered to by Healer Gower, “well,
give them back – I need them!” Everyone laughed but Hermione, her silence seemingly sobering
everyone the others.

“Right, Mr Potter, you’re done,” Healer Gower proclaimed through the uncomfortable silence, “and
I think we should leave you and Hermione to catch up.” She gave a significant look to Hermione, who
understood the meaning with gratitude. One by one her friends said their goodbyes and left, the
Healer last, pausing as she passed her former patient.

“I’d love to have a chat when you’ve finished,” Healer Gower said softly, “there is much we need
to discuss.” Hermione nodded and then found herself alone with Harry. Suddenly she was nervous.

“Why so quiet Hermione,” Harry ventured, “I would’ve thought you’d be dancing off the ceiling.
You’re whole.” She looked at him and the tears she had been fighting since she woke began falling
down her cheeks.

“But you’re not,” she whispered. His blank eyes moved towards her and seeing them without their
usual vibrant green just made her cry harder.

“Don’t cry,” he said, holding his hand out so she would come closer. Hermione shuffled towards
the side of his bed, taking his waiting hand is hers, “Hermione, please, don’t cry. I’m alive! The
counter-curse was successful, you are whole and I lived…”

“Harry, you’re stuck in a bed, blind and with gapping wounds all over your body. We’ve just
changed places…”

“Which is what I knew would happen. The thing is, my body is already healing. We don’t think
this is terminal like it was for you. Hermione, I’m going to be fine.” She looked down at him and
found that standing was suddenly extremely difficult. Sitting on the edge of his bed her mind
whirled, confusion still clouding rational thought.

“Are…are you sure?”

“About 80 per cent at this stage. It is definitely a play-it-by-ear process, as this is a first,
but it’s looking good. I can add this whole experience to my list of things I’ve achieved.” His
attempt at a joke finally brought a smile to Hermione and the fog of confusion left her as if swept
away by a large broom. She had her life back and that life included Harry Potter. He wasn’t fine
now, but will be. Things were finally as the should be.

“You mean the list that includes surviving the killing curse twice, saving the world, fighting
the darkest wizard we have ever known about five times – should I continue?”

“No, otherwise I will get awfully conceited.” They smiled at each other and the silence between
them no longer felt uncomfortable.

“Hermione,” Harry finally said, a little bit tentatively it seemed to her, “what do you
remember? Of the counter-curse?” Hermione thought and realised she couldn’t remember much at
all.

“The last thing I remember is walking onto the Quidditch pitch and seeing everyone there. Why?”
She watched as his face fell before a smile once again took its place.

“Oh, no reason, no reason at all,” Harry paused, “can’t believe you have my eyes.”

“Neither can I,” Hermione also smiled, “I wonder if it’s permanent?”

“I don’t know,” Harry paused again, “there is one more thing, something I haven’t told anyone
else.”

“What?” Hermione asked, suddenly concerned.

“He’s gone. I’m finally free.” His cryptic words made perfect sense to Hermione – in a way,
Harry was now also whole.

“The counter-curse? It killed that part of him in you?”

“Yep. All parts of Tom Riddle are now destroyed. I no longer have his darkness to fight. And my
power has returned to that of a normal wizard. I’m nothing special any more Hermione, I’m just the
same as everyone else.”

“You, Harry Potter, will never be just the same as everyone else,” Hermione laughed, “what with
your handsome good looks, cheeky charm and extreme wealth. You are definitely not normal!’

“You think I’m handsome?” His question made Hermione blush so hard she was sure he could feel
its glow.

“Well, in a ruffled sort of dishevelled sort of way.” Harry laughed, a truly liberated sound and
Hermione now understood why no-one around Harry couldn’t stop smiling. He was happy, really happy,
probably for the first time in his life, and the weight of the world was finally lifted off his
shoulders letting his spirit fly. Their banter continued with conversation soon turning to what
happens next. An argument arose from Hermione’s insistence of looking after Harry until he is one
hundred per cent cured – him saying she should be starting the rest of her life, and she saying
that she had plenty of time to conquer the world. She won.

**A/N – I couldn’t kill Harry and/or Hermione! They are meant to be together! Well, one more
chapter to go which will be posted tomorrow. Sigh.**



11. Happy Ever After?
---------------------

**A/N – so this is it, the last chapter and hopefully this will satisfy you. There is fluff but
of course, things don’t go 100% smoothly for young Harry. There is a bit of a long A/N at the end,
but I just wanted to let you guys know how much I’ve appreciated your comments. So read, and
hopefully enjoy.**

**Chapter 11 – Happy Ever After?**

Harry rushed up the stairs to the flat with a huge grin plastered on his face. He couldn’t wait
to see her reaction when he told her of his news – he tried to guess what it would be, but couldn’t
choose between happiness or disappointment at the choice he had made. Stepping out of the cold of
the December winter and into the warmth of his home, he peeled off the layers of clothing that had
protected him from the weather and made his way into the heart of the flat.

“Hermione?” he called out, “are you home?” He smiled when a head poked out of the study, her
curly hair haloing her face that still wore the round glasses that reminded him so much of his
youth.

“Yep,” she replied, returning his smile as she made her way to where he was standing, “my, don’t
you just look like the cat that ate the cream.”

“That’s because I have a job.” Harry stopped and watched her. Dressed casually in jeans and a
jumper, she looked beautiful.

Six months had passed since the curse had been eradicated and the change in her had been
dramatic. She had kept to her word and spent the first two months looking after Harry, making sure
his every need was catered for (well, not his every need…) while also continuing to update
‘Hogwarts: A History’. When Harry had been well enough to look after himself, she went back to St
Mungo’s to continue her studies, once more excelling now she had nothing holding her back.

Meanwhile, Harry’s healing progressed well and with little complication. His abdomen returned to
normal first leaving only faint scars to remind him of the wounds that were once there. However his
eyesight took a bit longer with it still not restored back to its usual blurry self (his new
glasses were definitely thicker than his old ones) but at least now he could see. Plus he could
once more say he had his mother’s eyes – the familiar green returned with his vision.

He hadn’t brought up the conversation that had taken place the minutes before he had performed
the counter-curse, or the kiss. But Harry hadn’t forgotten and revelled in the knowledge that even
though she hasn’t actually said anything to him since then, she loved him. He hoped.

Still, he and Hermione were as strong as ever. They spent most of Ginny and Neville’s wedding
dancing and joking around. Harry had still been blind so Hermione made it her personal duty that he
would enjoy the day (and stop any mischief from the Weasley twins at his expense).

The birth of Trixie Scarlett Weasley happened a week early and arrived a few days before
Hermione turned twenty-five. Being the second Weasley girl born to a family known for its male
population caused great celebration within the red headed clan. Harry and Hermione were named
godparents.

“So, are you going to tell me where this new job is?” she asked, her hands on her hips.

“You are looking at the new Hogwarts Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher. Say hello to
Professor Potter.” Harry saw her smile grow into a grin as she squealed and pulled him into a bone
crushing hug.

“Oh Harry, that’s fantastic!” she gushed.

“You don’t think I’m just returning to what is safe and familiar to me? That this is a step
backwards…”

“No!” Hermione exclaimed, frowning, “why would you think that?”

“I don’t know,” he answered, flopping down on the couch, “I guess I thought that people would
expect me to be an Auror, or Unspeakable or something more…exciting.”

“I think you’re thinking too much,” Hermione replied, sitting next to him and taking his hand in
her own, “you’ve had enough excitement to last a lifetime. Harry, it doesn’t matter what anyone
else thinks – you need to do what is right for you.”

“This feels right Hermione,” he said, searching her eyes, “really right. As soon as I said yes,
I felt like I was coming home.” Startled, he frowned when Hermione pulled away from him.

“I guess that means you’ll be shifting out,” she said softly, her eyes breaking away, “that
you’ll have to live in the castle.”

“No I don’t,” he replied just as softly, reclaiming her hands, “not all teachers live there. I
can still live here if I want to. But, if you’re sick of me…”

“You are rather messy,” she mused, a smirk tugging her mouth, “but you do put the rubbish out.
I’d miss that.”

“You want me to stay just because I put the rubbish out?”

“Maybe not just because of that,” she looked back at him, this time her smile wasn’t hiding.

Something happened to Harry when he saw that smile. He suddenly decided he wanted more. They
loved each other yet they had spent a lifetime trying to ignore what they were feeling. He didn’t
want this to continue any further – he was a Gryffindor, chosen for his courage! He had defeated
Voldemort! He was supposed to be brave – why couldn’t he tell her the truth? Why was it so
difficult? Why did he always feel so scared whenever he had the opportunity to outpour his feelings
to her? But not today, not now.

“This isn’t working,” he said, abruptly standing up and beginning to pace, “I can’t do this
anymore.”

“Do what? What isn’t working?” asked a very confused sounding Hermione. Harry stopped pacing and
looked down at her.

“Us. You and me,” Harry replied, sitting back down, “Hermione, I can’t be your friend
anymore…”

“What?” He saw the fear in her eyes, the hurt and realised what he had said.

“I mean, I can’t *just* be your friend anymore,” Harry paused and took a deep breath, “I
want more, I want to be with you. Hermione, I love you and I’ve loved you for so long. I love the
way your hair has flickers of gold in the sunlight. I love how you chew your lower lip when you’re
thinking, how you have this tiny frown when you read something challenging. I love how you have
stuck by me, through everything I’ve put you through, the danger – everything, you’ve always been
there. I love how you look out for me, always making sure I was and am alright. I love your
intelligence; you need for things to be equal and right. I love how you stand up for what you
believe in, even if it means you are alone. You have never conformed to what others think you
should be because you *know* what you should be. You are the strongest person I know, the
kindest, the sweetest, the most caring…”

“Stop.”

Her single word was just above a whisper but it made Harry freeze. She had gone very pale and
wouldn’t look him in the eye. His heart sank and he realised that he may have just made the biggest
mistake of his life – next to leaving her nearly six years ago. He watched as she stood, swaying
slightly, before she turned and made her way to the door.

“Hermione?” he asked tentatively as he followed her, cringing when he saw her put on her coat
and scarf. She turned and looked at him, but didn’t speak. And then she left.

Harry stood and stared at the closed door before his mind comprehended what had just happened.
He had confessed to her, laid out bare how he felt – and she walked away. Dejectedly he made his
way back to the couch and sat down heavily, his eyes staring unblinking into the fire that burned
in the grate. What had he done? He was so sure she would tell him she loved him back, that they
would kiss and then be ecstatic with what they had found with each other. Later they would marry
and then start the family they both wanted so much.

Instead he may have ruined the best friendship he had ever had. Instead he may have lost the
only person that meant the world to him. What would he do if she didn’t want him in her life
anymore, that what he had said made things so uncomfortable that they couldn’t be even in the same
room? What would he do without her?

Harry didn’t know how long he sat staring at the flames, or when Crookshanks had made his way
onto his lap. He did, however, realise that it was now getting dark. Ignoring the disgruntled
Crookshanks, who fell from his lap in an undignified pile, Harry stood and went to the window. It
had started to hail and it definitely looked unpleasant out there. He began to worry – she had been
gone a while, seemingly a lifetime, and it was now dark and stormy. He wanted to go after her, to
find her and make sure she was safe. But this was London and she could be anywhere.

Harry began to pace. Why had she stayed away so long? It confirmed to him that he had made a
huge mistake. He stopped and let the feeling of loss sweep over him briefly before continuing to
pace. Whether she loved him or not didn’t matter at the minute. She was out alone, in the dark and
a storm was coming. She could be in danger. He had to go and try and find her.

With a new sense of purpose, Harry ran up the stairs to his room to find warmer and more rain
repellent trousers, changing as quickly as he could so he could begin his search. His mind went
over the spells he knew that would help him locate Hermione, spells that she had taught him back in
Hogwarts. Ready for his new adventure, he bounded down the stairs and headed towards the door.

But his way was blocked as a wet, bedraggled woman standing framed in the open door way.

“Hermione?” he asked, not sure if it was really her, “are…are you okay?”

“Pretty bloody cold,” she replied, her teeth slightly chattering together. Harry quickly helped
her off with her wet coat and led her to the couch by the fire. With a wave of his hand, the fire
grew in size and began to heat up the dark room. Another wave of his hand and the rooms lights
flickered on.

“I thought you were a normal wizard,” she stuttered, hugging herself in an effort to get
warm.

“I am. I just don’t need a wand,” he replied, glad that she was at least talking to him.

“Harry, I’m sorry…” she started.

“Hermione, I’m sorry…” he said at exactly the same time. They looked at each other and smiled.
Unwrapping herself, she sat so she faced him, absently patting the purring Crookshanks that had
jumped up into her lap.

“You don’t need to apologise,” she said, “you had the courage to do something that I’ve wanted
to do for so long – tell you the truth on how I felt. You scared me and I needed to think. That’s
what I’ve been doing for the last three hours, thinking about why it scared me so much.”

“Did you come up with an answer?”

“Before I found out I was a witch,” Hermione sighed, “I was very much a loner. I had buck teeth,
all this hair and I guess pretty smart which made other kids scared of me. Then I found out I was
witch and that I had a chance to start over, make new friends with people who didn’t know me, who
would give me a chance. Trouble was I was so sure I would know nothing when I got to Hogwarts, that
they would find out their mistake and send me home that I learnt all I could about this new world I
was going to be part of.” Harry smiled at himself – she had had the same insecurities he felt on
entering Hogwarts, that the school had somehow made a mistake. And of course, only Hermione would
over-compensate with learning absolutely everything.

“I felt the same,” he said and she smiled.

“But you made friends, I didn’t. Lavender and Parvati were as opposite of me as you could get.
Their focus was always boys, clothes and…well, that was it really. And I had fallen back into my
safety net of books, facts and rules once again separating me from everyone else. When I heard Ron
calling me a nightmare and pointing out how nobody could stand me, everything just seemed too much.
I thought to myself that I would have to go through the world alone and just get used to it. I
would never have friends, which, believe it or not, was quite upsetting. And then something
startling happened, something that changed my life.”

“The troll…”

“No Harry, not just the troll. You. Someone who I knew from books, a hero to the wizarding
world, but someone who didn’t really know me or even like me. Someone who hung around with a boy
who had just insulted me. That someone remembered me.” She paused as she took Harry’s hands in
hers, intertwining their fingers, making his heart explode.

“When I met you for that first time, in the carriage, you were the Boy-That-Lived. When you
saved me from the troll, you became the boy who remembered. From that moment I owed you a life
debt, but I also pledged to myself that I would do anything and everything in my power to help you
in any way I could. As I got to know you, you became Just Harry, a wonderful person and someone I
was proud to call my friend. I never thought of you more than just my best friend, but I understood
the connection we had and I knew that somehow, that was more than just friendship. I didn’t
understand what it was, but it was something.”

“We can be just friends if that’s what you want….”

“Let me finish Harry,” Hermione interrupted, “when it came closer to the Final Battle I began to
realise that I couldn’t picture my life without you in it. After my parents died and you kissed me
in the attic, I knew I loved you and that there would never be any man in my life who would ever
take your place.”

“You love me?”

“Oh Harry, of course I love you. You are and always will be the most important person in my
life.”

“Then why did you leave?” His question hung in the air for a moment as she thought about her
reply.

“For five years you had been dead to me,” she began tentatively, “I tried not to think of you
because when I did, it was just too painful. For five years I knew I was going to die young and not
have the family or career, for that matter, that I wanted. I didn’t let myself get close to new
people because I didn’t see the point. Any man I did meet, I compared with you. When I did think of
you, when I accepted that you were actually alive somewhere in the world, I wondered if you had met
someone, if I had been replaced in your life, if you even remembered me…”

“You were the reason I came back…”

“You said that,” Hermione smiled, “but I didn’t really believe it. Harry, I have dreamt for so
long to hear you tell me that you loved me, that you wanted me in your life. In one year I have
gone from thinking you were dead and I would soon be joining you to having you back in my life,
living in my home and then risking your own life so I could get mine back. The last year, even when
I was sick, has been the happiest in my life because you were part of it. And then you tell me you
love me? It was too much and my brain just stopped. I had to think, to sort it all out.”

“So have you sorted it out? Are you going to give us a chance?”

“Maybe.” Hermione looked at him and he couldn’t quite read her eyes, so he waited patiently for
her to continue, “you told me all the reasons you love me and I want to return the favour. I want
you to know why you deserve to be loved. Harry, your life has been hellish. You lost the love of
your parents before you could speak and then was abused by the only family you have ever known. You
were forced into a roll that you felt didn’t suit you and faced horrors that no-one should ever
have to face. You have seen friends, family and a great, great man die in front of you but instead
of wallowing in destructive pity you continued on the path that was your destiny. You thought you
were going to die, but you did it anyway. And all through this, you remained a fantastic human
being. You showed all of us around you how to live. And though you don’t realise this, you showed
us all how to love. Because that was all you did – love us enough to be willing to sacrifice
yourself for us.”

“You all gave me a reason…”

“But you could have turned away. And then when you thought you were a danger to us, when you
were actually a danger to yourself, you once more sacrificed your happiness for us. You are
amazing, Harry, truly amazing.

“Under the persona of the Chosen One was the boy and then the man I fell in love with. The
brave, selfless, caring, loving, funny, smart, athletic, handsome and beautiful human being that is
sitting in front of me.”

“Thank you,” Harry whispered.

“Thank you,” Hermione repeated.

“Does that mean you want to give us a chance?”

“Only on one condition…”

“Which is?”

“That you kiss me now.”

Harry smiled. Taking her face gently in his hands, he leant in and put his lips softly to hers.
He became lost in the emotions he felt, more powerful than the feeling on the Quidditch field all
those months ago. He felt her mouth open and her tongue begin to explore his mouth, something he
returned with passion. Her hands had made their way to his hair, as had his to her drying ringlets,
and soon their kiss turned to something stronger. He felt her fall backwards and soon his body was
covering hers, their hands both exploring each other in tentative caresses.

With shock Harry felt Hermione break away and he looked down at her with unhidden
disappointment.

“I…I think we should stop now,” she panted, her face flustered but a grin twitching up the
corners of her mouth. Harry sat up and tried to hide the erousement their embrace had caused, glad
when she snuggled into him, her head resting on his shoulder.

“That was incredible,” she said.

“Tell me about it,” Harry replied, fingering her hair, “so does that mean we’re dating now?”

“I think it certainly does,” Hermione laughed, “oh God, think of everyone is going to say when
we show up at the next dinner arm in arm.”

“What, I told you so?”

“Plus the rest. I think Ron, Ginny and Molly are already planning our wedding.”

“You know, you may be right,” Harry laughed with her.

He couldn’t remember a time where had had felt so happy or contented, already thinking of the
perfect way he would ask Hermione to marry him, his mind so lost in his thoughts that he hadn’t
really noticed Hermione had slipped a hand up his shirt until he felt her touch on his chest. With
a surprised intake of breath, he looked down into the familiar darkness of her eyes, smiling when
he saw that there were now flickers of green within the brown.

“Hermione?” he croaked, his voice slightly higher than he would have liked, fully aware that
there were more uncontrollable movements in his groin area once again.

“This isn’t working,” she said, a strange grin on her lips, “I want more.”

“More? But you said we should stop…” Harry suddenly felt nervous, the part of his brain still
working realising that there was a good chance that he was going to do something very soon that he
had been dreaming about for a very, very long time. But there was a larger, more powerful part of
his brain that was connected to something within him that was instinctive, more primal – and that
part was winning. Her face was flushed, and she was licking her lips with tiny flicks of her tongue
making them glisten enticingly – she had never looked so beautiful and he had never wanted anyone
as much as he wanted, no needed, her right now. He smiled at her in what he hoped wasn’t a leer and
when she spoke, all rational thought left him.

“I was wrong. I want more,” was all she said and with a speed that surprised even him, Harry
picked her up in his arms and stood, making her squeal with the suddenness of the movement. She
quickly got over her surprise, however, as she took his face in her hands and began kissing him. He
knew he could never make it to his room, up the stairs, so he blindly made his way to hers, deftly
missing the furniture in his way and making sure he didn’t bang her into anything that would spoil
the moment. By the time he reached the bed, his passion had grown to a level he didn’t know
existed, but as he lay her down and he looked at her, he paused – making a small frown cross her
face.

“Harry, what is it?” Hermione asked, concerned.

“I can’t believe this is happening,” he replied, with a small smile, “I can’t believe I’m
finally with you.”

“I know, but you…you want to be with me, don’t you?” Hermione continued hesitantly and Harry
could see insecurity in her eyes.

“More than anything,” he breathed before leaning down and kissing her. But he hadn’t finished,
he had to find out one more thing before he could go any further, “Hermione?”

“Yes Harry,” she answered softly.

“You’ll never leave me will you? It will always be you and me, together, right?” Harry asked,
knowing that his own insecurities sounded in his voice. He watched as tears shinned in her eyes and
melted as she reached out and stroked the side of his face.

“Forever,” she replied before drawing his face down and kissing him in a way that confirmed
everything that he needed to know. She was his and he was hers – the connection between them that
formed thirteen years before in the bathroom of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry cemented
as their bodies and soul became one and Harry Potter finally felt complete.

**A/N** – well ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls – that’s it. Thank you for joining me on
the ride and thank you soooo much for the reviews. I had never let anyone read anything of mine
(other than a few very close friends) before posting on Portkey and was so nervous that people
wouldn’t like what I had written so your wonderfully positive comments have let me know I’m not so
bad after all. I could never really let you know how that has made me feel.

I don’t know if I will do another chaptered story although I have an idea in my head. Things
will be changing where I work (which is where I wrote most of this – naughty huh) and I don’t think
I will have the time. Also, I’ve vowed to continue a non-HP book I started years ago and has been
untouched for quite a while. Trouble is, I’m addicted to Harry and this site so maybe I could do
both…however if I did, the chapters will obviously not be daily (actually, that only really
happened because I’m on holiday – back to work tomorrow).

To those regular reviewers – I hope to return the favour with your own work and I will miss your
comments. If you feel like a chat – drop me a line on bevkim@clear.net.nz – I have very few friends who are as
passionate about Harry as me.

Thanks again and I’m glad you seemed to have enjoyed it. Oh, and Harry and Hermione
forever!!