A/N - Got this updated more quickly than I thought. It's a long chapter too. Things are really starting to happen, though, and you learn what happened to a few of the other important canon characters. Harry learns that a few things about what the effects of his enforced exile are too. Hope you all like it!
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"Harry!" called Hermione, pounding on his door at around noon. "Harry, open up!"
There was no response. This was at least the tenth time she'd tried today and she was getting irritated looks from the other tenants. She couldn't have cared less.
"Harry, please..." Hermione slumped down to the floor and ended up leaning against the door, the side of her face pressed up against it. She lay crumpled there for quite some time before a sound intruded upon her. She pressed her ear up against the door and realized Harry was playing. Straining, she managed to pick out the words.
Bought a ticket for a runaway train
Like a madman laughing at the rain
A little out of touch, a little insane
It's just easier than dealing with the pain...
"Harry..."
Ron found her like that several hours later, half asleep.
"Hermione!" he cried. "Whatever are you doing?"
"What?" Hermione jumped to her feet, dazed. "Oh... hi, Ron..."
"Why are you sleeping outside this door?" Ron asked, concern in his eyes.
"What are you doing here?" Hermione countered.
"You first."
Hermione set her jaw stubbornly and Ron sighed.
"Ok, fine. I tried calling earlier to invite you and No One to my Quidditch match, but didn't get any answer, so I decided to swing by to see, uh, how things were going."
"Oh..."
"Now, your turn. What are you doing?" Ron demanded. "Do you know the person who lives there?"
"I, um..." Hermione gulped. "Well, obviously..."
"Hermione, what's going on? You've been acting very strange for a couple weeks now. Did you see No One last night after you left?"
"Oh, Ron, it's awful!" Hermione wailed suddenly. "I was leaving last night and this man, he..."
"He didn't hurt you, did he?" Ron cut in sharply. "He hurried out right after you, all bothered. I knew he looked shifty..."
"No!" Hermione denied vehemently. "It wasn't Ha-him, he'd never! And now he-" Hermione was babbling.
"This isn't a good place," Ron interrupted, glaring at a nosy neighbor that had just poked their head out. "Come on, let's get inside."
Ron steered Hermione back towards her flat and she obediently allowed him to walk her over to the couch and sit her down. She was rumpled and frightful looking; she hadn't even changed from the clothes she'd worn the previous night. The look wasn't quite the same anymore.
"Ok," Ron dragged a chair over and sat across from her. "What happened?"
Hermione took a steadying breath and twisted her hands, but launched into an explanation of the previous night. Ron's jaw dropped as she told him, and a slow anger built in his eyes.
"And... No One lives there, Ron," Hermione finished. "He brought me home and watched over me while I slept, then locked himself in his flat. He won't come out. He won't even answer."
"But why?" Ron asked, puzzled. "What's wrong with him?"
Hermione's eyes darted nervously.
"He's... he's really sensitive. Remember how Harry started blocking us out when he was upset? Well, No One is like that, but a hundred times worse. I think he's really guilty over what he did to those Death Eaters..."
"What did he do?" Ron asked quickly. "You just told me he stopped them and disapparated them to the Ministry."
"He, er-"
"Tell me he hurt them!" Ron snarled savagely. Hermione looked up in surprise at the fierce note in Ron's voice.
"He, um... he was a bit rough with them," Hermione said timidly.
"A bit rough? That's it? That's why he's upset?" Ron was incredulous. "Those men were Death Eaters and murderers and they were torturing you! He couldn't have been rough enough on them!"
"I- I think he was," Hermione said faintly. Ron frowned.
"Hermione... I think there's something you're not telling me."
"There are a lot of things I don't tell you, Ron," Hermione retorted with a touch of asperity in her voice. Ron held up his hands defensively.
"I'm sorry," she apologized immediately. "I'm a little upset..."
"Perfectly understandable," Ron said sympathetically. "Listen... why don't you go take a shower and get cleaned up? It'll make you feel better and then we can bust into No One's flat. It seems I assumed the worst of him and I owe him an apology."
"I'd like that," Hermione said with a faint smile. "Thanks, Ron. I'm so sorry, it seems like I'm just having one breakdown after another and you keep getting stuck with me. You're a wonderful friend. Love you."
"Any friend would do the same," Ron said stoutly, a bit red. Hermione kissed him on the cheek and departed for the bathroom. In what seemed like record time (for a girl), Hermione was showered and dressed in a fresh set of clothes.
"Ready?" she asked.
"In a minute... I wanted to ask you something."
"Um, ok..." Hermione said slowly, taking a seat once more.
"So," Ron said in an entirely too casual voice, leaning back with his arms flung out. "Are you going to tell me where you really met this No One?"
Hermione stared, her heart starting to pound.
"What are you on about?" she asked quickly.
"Well..." Ron drew out the word. "It seems an awful coincidence that he just happens to live next door to you. And you walked in arm in arm with him; I saw it. And you behave as if you've known him for years. I'm not stupid, you know."
"I told you, Ron. He was a patient of mine. And a friend. And it's not a coincidence at all that he lives next door. I got him that flat the day he was released from St. Mungo's."
"And why would you do that?"
"Because he's my frie-"
"You know what I think, Hermione?" Ron spoke right over her. "I think you fancy this bloke."
"Nonsense!" Hermione denied, though a blush flooded her cheeks. "Really, Ron, where do you get these ideas?"
"Come on now, Hermione," Ron said skeptically. "I saw how you were acting; you haven't let any guy get within shouting distance of you since, well... since us. Except now you hover over this No One like a mother hen."
"He was sick, Ron! It was my job! And... well, he was lost. He needed some help; he had no place to live and no idea what the stuff he made was worth. I couldn't just leave him."
"Of course... hey, I'm not saying it like it's a bad thing. He certainly seems like a nice enough guy; reminds me a bit of Harry..."
Hermione's face instantly went blank at the mention of Harry's name.
"I even told him, after you left, that-" Ron stopped suddenly, realizing that he had perhaps revealed too much.
"You told him what?" Hermione asked in a dangerous voice.
"Oh, nothing," Ron said breezily. "Just guy stuff. You know."
"Ron."
Ron was wearing the most innocent expression Hermione had ever seen on another human being. She distrusted it on principle.
"Ron, what did you say to him? If you don't tell me, I'm going to do something unpleasant to you."
"It was nothing, really. You see," Ron started talking really fast, "I saw him watching you when you were leaving. And, you know, I said 'She's awfully pretty, isn't she'? I was just looking after you, ya know? Trying to feel this guy out."
"Mmmm-hmmm."
"Oh, and I might have told him that I think you fancy him," Ron threw out, almost as an afterthought.
"You WHAT?" Hermione practically screamed.
"Well, maybe not in that many words," Ron said reasonably. "Oh, yeah. I may also have said that must make him pretty interesting 'cuz I reckoned that you were still in love with Harry."
"WHAT?????" This time Hermione did scream. And go quite pale as well.
"WHAT GAVE YOU THAT CRACKPOT IDEA?? AND WHY, FOR MERLIN'S SAKE, WOULD YOU GO TELLING THAT TO SOMEONE YOU DON'T EVEN KNOW!!"
"I, uh, might have had a bit to drink at that point," Ron said rather lamely. "Hey, you were the one who brought up my accident! You've got no right to talk! And I liked him; thought he was a decent bloke. Turns out I was right, too."
"Of course he's a decent bloke! I wouldn't bring some smarmy creep out with me," Hermione fumed. "I don't know whether to hex you or just strangle you with my bare hands! Both sound really appealing. What on earth possessed you to say something like that to him?"
"So you do you fancy him," Ron said bluntly.
"I didn't say that! And since when has my love life been any of your business?" bristled Hermione.
"Hermione," Ron said patiently. "You're my best friend and I love you dearly. I can't help but notice."
"Well, maybe you should stop noticing and start minding your own business!" Hermione flared. Ron was coming a little too close to the truth and it was scaring her.
"Hermione. All I want is what any friend wants; I want you to be happy."
Hermione's lower lip trembled suddenly and she looked away.
"You are in love with him, aren't you?"
"What? Who?" Hermione pretended ignorance.
"Don't play the fool with me, Hermione! It's not fair to me, and it's not fair to No One!" Ron said sharply. More sharply than he had intended, for Hermione flinched and started sniffling.
"Oh no... Hermione, don't cry. I'm sorry, I didn't mean it." Ron made towards her and Hermione let him enfold her in his arms.
"Hermione, he's dead," Ron said quietly as she wept into his shoulder. "Harry's dead."
"No, he's not!" Hermione cried, pulling away. "I know he's not."
"How do you know? You've gotta face the facts, Hermione. If he was alive, he would have been back ages ago. Nothing could have kept him away. He defeated You-Know-Who!"
"He's not dead! I'm one hundred percent certain he's not!"
Ron looked at her in disbelief and sighed.
"How can you be so sure?" he asked patiently.
"I-" Hermione bit her lip. "Ron, you just have to trust me. I know Harry's alive."
Ron sighed again.
"Are you still going to deny you're in love with him?"
"Ron! You have no idea what I'm feeling!"
"Oh, I think I do," Ron said softly. "I remember you telling us about Cho. How she was all confused because she couldn't figure out who she liked more: Cedric or Harry; and how she was guilty about liking Harry after Cedric died. This is just the same, isn't it? See? I do listen to you."
Hermione hiccuped and peered at Ron with wide eyes, then started laughing weakly.
"Oh, Ron... you have no clue what you just said. No clue."
"If you say so, Hermione."
"I do," Hermione shook her head. "Come on, let's go shake No One out of his flat. You've got to get going for your game soon."
"Oh," Hermione added as they got up, wiping her cheeks. "Next time you're going to say anything mental like that to him, run it by me first."
Ron chuckled and they made their way over to Harry's door.
"No One!" Hermione called, pounding on his door with Ron at her side. The faint music stopped, but there was no answer.
"No..." Hermione shook her head as Ron opened his mouth to try.
"Well, thanks for stopping by, Ron!" Hermione said loudly, then waved her wand and what sounded like a large guy stomping away echoed in the hall. Hermione counted silently to sixty.
"No One," she spoke softly this time, and sincerely. "No One... I'm frightened. I dreamed they came back and you weren't be there to save me... Please, let me in..."
This time, the door opened. There was no one there, but they took it as an invitation and stepped in.
"What-?" Ron gaped. The place was half trashed, half perfect. On one side were splintered pieces of wood that looked as if they had been smashed in rage, on the other a full set of chairs for the table, a couch needing only cushions and a lifelike knee high carving of a shaggy dog; unmistakably Sirius.
"No one is going to hurt you, Hermione," a voice came from the bedroom. "I won't allow it."
"No One!" Hermione said in her brightest voice. "We have a visitor!"
A long minute of silence followed, then Harry appeared in the doorway.
"Ron? What are you doing here? That was a dirty trick, Hermione," he said reproachfully.
"Ron came by to invite us to his Quidditch match, No One," Hermione ignored the jibe.
"Yeah, that's right," Ron said casually. "I thought Hermione and you might like to get out and see a game."
"Hmmm..." Harry considered, then turned away to face Hermione. He looked good, all things considered. Clean, well-groomed. Thoughtful.
"Hermione," Harry looked her straight in the eyes. "I'm sorry I didn't answer before, I just needed some time. It was selfish of me; I didn't think about how you were feeling at all."
"Oh!" Hermione mouthed, surprised. Harry didn't look distraught at all. Guilty and sad, but not the self-loathing that had so often marked him recently.
"It's ok. Are you ok?"
"Yes... I'm fine, thanks to you. Thank you very much for... stopping me, last night."
"Thank you for saving me and... staying with me while I slept..." Ron was examining the carving of Sirius intently, trying to pretend he wasn't there.
"Yeah, well," Harry replied a bit moodily. "I still think you'd be better off without me. It was my fault you were attacked."
"Now wait a minute, mate," Ron broke in, unable to help himself. "How do you reckon that? Hermione told me all about it. If it wasn't for you Hermione would be..."
"Listen," Ron took a deep breath. "I, er, want to apologize. I assumed the worst about you before Hermione told me the whole story and I was bang out of order. I'm sorry."
Ron stuck out his hand. For a moment Harry just stared at it, then he slowly reached forward and took it.
"No, you were just doing your duty as a friend. You had every right to think the worst of me. And you're not wrong. It was my fault."
"That's mental, you-" Ron began.
"Yeah, you're such a horrible person, No One!" Hermione interrupted in irritation. "You befriend lonely children, give all your money to the poor and save damsels in distress. It's just such a good thing that no one else is like you!"
Frustration shone in Hermione's face.
"I've got to use the bathroom," she stomped off.
"Er- yeah," Harry said uncertainly. Ron chortled again.
"Don't worry, that's just how Hermione is."
"Mmmm."
"Do you really?" Ron asked curiously. "I mean, give your money to the poor and stuff?"
"Oh, she's exaggerating. I give a Knut or two away every now and then..."
"No," Ron disagreed. "Hermione never exaggerates. She may fly off the handle every now and then, but..."
There was an awkward silence and Ron examined the carving again.
"Say, mate... where did you get the idea for this? It looks just like a dog I used to know."
"That?" Harry glanced warily at it. "That, I... saw a picture of a dog in Hermione's photo album and I decided to try and carve it."
"Ah... that would do it, I suppose. You must have a brilliant memory. But, you know something else that's funny?" Ron mused. "That otter you gave her (a brilliant piece, by the way)... her Patronus is an otter. I just remembered. How did you know to give her that piece?"
"He didn't," Hermione's voice cut in. She was standing in the doorway to the bathroom. "I saw it, and asked if I could have it and he was nice enough to give it to me."
"Come on, Ron. You're going to be late for your game. And we will be going too, won't we, No One?" It was only half a question.
"Um, yeah," Harry blinked. "Hang on a moment, I need to get something..."
He shuffled off to the spare bedroom and they could hear the clunk of a trunk opening and closing. A minute later Harry re-appeared, a magnificent broomstick in his hand, though unlike any model Ron or Hermione had ever seen.
"Here," he held it out to an open-mouthed Ron. "Take it. I don't need it for anything."
"I couldn't do that!" Ron said, aghast. "That's gotta be worth a fortune! Though I don't recognize the make..."
"Well, you wouldn't. I made it myself," Harry grinned, then hastened to add. "Don't worry, it's ok! I tested it out myself; it works perfectly."
"You made?" Ron mouthed.
"Yeah. Take it," Harry forced it into Ron's hands.
"Just- just for this one game," Ron said stubbornly.
"Sure, whatever you say."
"Yeah..." Ron tore his eyes away from the broomstick. "Ok, let's apparate there. They've got a special apparation point for us players and you can come along with me. I'll get you prime seats."
"I'll do it!" Hermione said swiftly, grabbing each of them by the arm. "I want all our body parts ending up in the right place."
A moment later they went through the familiar disjointed, gut-wrenching sensation and found themselves in a small clearing. Clearly visible behind them was a modest sized Quidditch stadium. It was a bright, sunny day, not a cloud in sight. Nearly prefect Quidditch conditions, if a bit too bright.
"Where are we?" Harry asked.
"Somewhere in Ireland, I think," Ron said vaguely. "They grabbed a spot of land and put Muggle repelling charms all over it. They'll pack it away when the season's done and find a new place for next year."
"Ah... makes sense."
"Come on, I'll get you seats. You can meet my sister too; she'll be listening to the game."
Ron strode away purposefully. Harry started to follow and felt Hermione's tiny hand slip into his.
"That was a really nice thing, giving Ron that broom," she whispered in his ear. "It is safe, isn't it?"
"Oh, yes. I put it through the mill."
"Good... you're going to have to tell Ron soon, you know. He's going to figure it out; I can't keep covering for you."
Harry scowled. "What did Ron mean, 'listening'?"
"Hoy!" Ron himself called impatiently from ahead. "Are you coming or not?"
"Yes, sorry!" Hermione jumped and let go of Harry's hand. They hurried after Ron and he led them confidently into the stadium.
"Hey, Ron," an attendent greeted cheerfully. "Friends of yours?"
"Yeah, that's right," Ron winked. "Gonna get them seated next to Ginny. Ok?"
"Sure thing. I'll just move those tickets to another location."
"Thanks!"
Ron led them up hundreds of stairs to just below the top box. Seated there were Seamus, Meg and Ginny Weasley, among others.
Ginny looked just like Harry remembered her; slender with vivid long red hair and, undoubtedly, beautiful. She was wearing a serene expression he had never seen on her before.
"Hey guys!" Ron called. "Look who I found wandering the streets!"
"Hey, Hermione! Hey, No One!" Seamus greeted them.
"No one?" Ginny tilted her head oddly to one side. Harry's heart skipped a beat as he saw her eyes weren't tracking properly. "What do you mean 'no one', Seamus?"
"It's a name, Ginny," Ron explained. "He's a friend of Hermione's. Listen, I gotta get down to the locker room. I'll see you lot after the game."
He leaned forward briefly and kissed Ginny on the cheek. She smiled and wished him luck.
"Ginny," Hermione said, taking a seat beside her, "this is No One. Here's a friend (and a former patient) of mine."
"What an odd name!" exclaimed Ginny, but she held out a hand blindly. Hermione gently redirected it towards Harry, who was standing uncomfortably in front of a seat beside Hermione; two over from Ginny. "But if you're Hermione's friend, then I'm pleased to meet you."
"The pleasure's mine," Harry muttered, taking her hand. He meant to let go quickly, but she gripped it convulsively when she heard his voice.
"Harry?" she whispered.
"I beg your pardon?" Harry said cautiously, trying to extricate his hand.
"It's you, Harry! Harry Potter! Where have you been all this time!?"
"No, he's not, Ginny," Seamus laughed. "He couldn't look less like him!" Meg nodded in agreement.
"I'm telling you, this is Harry!" Ginny said angrily, still clutching his hand. "I know what his voice sounds like! Harry, why are you pretending to be someone else?!"
"I'm afraid you must be mistaken," Harry said carefully, finally managing to free his hand. "I may sound like him, but if you could see me I'm sure you'd agree that I'm not."
"I may be blind, but I'm not stupid, Harry!"
"Ginny..." Hermione began, taking her hand with an anguished look on her face. "Why would No One lie if he was really Harry Potter?"
She threw a bitter glance at Harry, who looked extremely guilty. This was more than he had ever bargained for and, for the first time, he began questioning his motives.
"I don't know!"
"Look, the match is about to start," Harry said suddenly, trying to change the subject. He then cursed himself for his thoughtlessness.
"I'm sorry, Ginny. I wasn't thinking."
"It's ok, Harry. I don't mind being blind. I can still hear just fine. I do wish I could play Quidditch, though," she said wistfully.
"You will someday, Ginny," Hermione said fiercely. "I will cure you!"
Ginny simply smiled and put an arm around the shorter woman's shoulders.
They sat in uncomfortable silence for a while watching (or, in Ginny's case, listening to the commentary) the match. Finally, though, Harry's curiosity got the better of him.
"Um... have you always been blind, Ginny?" he asked circumspectly.
"No, of course not. I was a very good Quidditch player once. But you already know that. I was struck by a curse when fighting with you in the final battle against Voldemort," she said proudly.
"Oh... I'm sorry... that's horrible," Harry said miserably.
"Yes, I suppose it is. But it's not your fault, Harry," Ginny reached blindly across Hermione and patted his leg. "So don't you dare go blaming yourself!"
Seamus and Meg wore identical exasperated expressions and gave Harry commiserating looks, but Hermione just sat looking down sadly.
"What curse was it? Where did it hit you?" Harry pressed.
"I don't know. It just walloped me from behind and I felt a pain in the back of my head and I couldn't see any more. Neville saw and stood over me and guarded me until..." her voice shook, "until he was killed."
"You never told me that!" Hermione broke in.
"Told you what?" Ginny sniffed back tears over Neville.
"That you felt a pain in the back of your head."
"You never asked. I didn't think it was important... my eyes are in the front of my head, not the back. It- it isn't important, is it?"
"I don't know," Hermione said pensively. "I'll have to look it up."
"You should look up Muggle medicine," Harry added suddenly. "They know all sorts of things about eyes, you know. They've got that laser eye surgery and stuff. One of Dud- my Muggle friends got it and could see loads better afterwards."
"Muggles can't cure blindness, No One," Hermione said dismissively.
"I know, but maybe you could find something out that helps you..."
Hermione snorted.
"Listen," Harry said angrily, "what if they knew something that could help Ginny but she had to be blind her the rest of her life just because you couldn't be bothered to look it up?"
"It's ok, Harry," Ginny said soothingly.
"No, it's not! And stop calling me Harry!"
"No, he's right," Hermione said in a small voice. "I'll research it. I promise."
"How's Ron looking?" Ginny changed the subject wisely.
"A bit nervous," Meg spoke up for the first time. "Oh, look! The opposing chaser is going to break through!"
"He's feinting to the left," Harry muttered automatically, looking up at the match. "He's going to cross back to the right hoop. Come on, Ron."
But it was no use. Ron dove wildly and missed; Hermione, Meg and Seamus groaned.
"He missed, didn't he?" Ginny asked. "He'd be good if he could just get over his nerves. Or if you were playing with him, Harry."
"I've gotta go to the bathroom," Harry announced abruptly, standing up. Hermione looked up at him, distressed.
"Don't get lost, Harry," Ginny said blithely.
* * *
Harry stumbled away down the stairs, just wanting to get away. Ginny's sightless gaze and her insistence on his identity was too much to handle. Halfway down he looked up and saw Ron diving wildly again, missing another save. A sudden, reckless thought popped into his head and he grinned madly.
* * *
Hermione strained her eyes, trying to see what Harry was up to. From what she could make out, he had accosted the stadium manager and was gesturing expansively. His guitar popped into his hands for a moment and he strummed it briefly before it disappeared again. It was too far away to make out their expressions, but by Harry's body language he seemed to have gotten what he wanted. He disappeared from view a moment later.
"He ran away, didn't he?"
"What?" Hermione asked, distracted, searching for Harry.
"Harry. He ran away, didn't he?" Ginny repeated.
"No, I don't think so," Hermione said absently. "And it's not Harry. It's No One. He's up to something..."
"Well, then what's he doing?"
"I'm not really sure-" Hermione finished with a squeal as there was a sudden thunderous BOOM, BOOM, CRASH.
"What the devil?" Seamus exclaimed.
There was another thunderous BOOM, BOOM, CRASH; the stadium shook. People were looking around, mystified and frightened.
"Oh. My. God." Hermione covered her eyes with her hands, but Ginny laughed delightedly.
"I know what this is!" she shouted. "I listen to a lot of music ever since I went blind! A lot of Muggle music too! I know this one!"
Hermione just shook her head in mute shock as Harry's voice boomed out, magically amplified.
Buddy you're a boy make a big noise
Playin' in the street gonna be a big man some day
You got mud on yo' face
You big disgrace
Kickin' your can all over the place
We will we will rock you
We will we will rock you
"No, he's not," Hermione whispered too softly for anyone to hear. "He can't be..."
But he was.
"Who is this?" Ginny asked loudly, bouncing up and down happily."Who's playing?"
"It's him," Hermione said in an awed sort of voice.
* * *
Harry was still grinning like a madman as he let loose. It felt so good to let it all out; he played with reckless abandon and magic provided a far better amplifier than any electronics. Above, he saw a stupefied Ron swing around to look down. When he spotted Harry an unbelieving look crossed his face. Harry's grin widened, if possible, and he raised one hand to salute. An answering grin lit Ron's face and he turned back to the game just in time to make a spectacular save.
The whole Lions' (Ron's team) end of the stadium took up the chant and the countryside was soon echoing to chants of We Will Rock You.
* * *
The section was awash in a babble of voices. Ron's team, spurred on by the upbeat songs Harry belted out, had crushed their opponent 470-40. Ron, Will, Carolyn and Travis had flown straight over, looking for Harry.
"Where's No One?" Ron bellowed above the kerfuffle. Ginny was on her feet twisting and turning in the madness, wanting to join in but unable to. Ron hurried over and flung a protective arm around her shoulder.
"Hermione! Where's No One?"
"I don't know!" she shouted back, fighting through the crowd. "He isn't here!"
"Well, go find him and bring him to the pub! We'll be over there celebrating! He was brilliant!"
Hermione nodded and slipped through the crowd. She sprinted to the disapparation spot, clutching her side and wheezing by the time she got there. She took a minute to get her breath back, then disapparated back to her flat and snatched up the spare key to Harry's place.
"Harry!" she called, bursting in. "Harry, are you here?"
He was not.
Helplessly, Hermione turned on the spot. In the end she settled herself down on his bed. He had to come back some time.
* * *
Harry was wandering down a seldom used path in a small town outside London, alone with his thoughts. The beat from his music was still pounding in his veins and a small grin tugged at the corner of his mouth.
I should probably get back, he thought. Hermione's probably going spare. He wasn't exactly upset, but he wasn't ready to be around other people yet either.
With a pop, he disapparated back to his place to find the door unlocked. Frowning, he edged in silently. There was no one in the living area or kitchen, but a twanging sound was coming from his bedroom.
"What the?" he muttered to himself. Quietly, he tiptoed to the door and poked his head around the corner. There, sitting on his bed with her legs swinging and his guitar in her hands, was Hermione. A stray tendril of curly brown hair swung over her eyes and she blew it back out of the way. A slight frown marred her face as she concentrated.
"Hermione," Harry demanded and she jumped two feet, a guilty look on her face. "What are you doing?"
"I, um-" she looked a bit sheepish. "I wanted to try your guitar."
"Why didn't you just ask me?"
"Because..." Hermione lowered her eyes. "Because... oh, Harry, I just want to be able to do something really well, like you! I read a book on how to play the guitar, but I can't do it. I'm just no good at anything..."
"What are you talking about?" Harry demanded in disbelief. "You're brilliant, Hermione! You're the cleverest witch I've ever met! You can do so much more than I can, and do it better. And that Swift lady said you're a brilliant healer. That's something that's actually useful; it saves peoples' lives! All I can do is a couple useless things."
"But that's just it, Harry! I can do things that have instructions in a book and take no talent, but I can't do anything creative, or make anything beautiful! I'm no good!" Hermione wailed. "And you're not useless! Did you know that thirty-seven people immediately took a turn for the better that night you played at St. Mungo's? And four people we were sure were going to die made miraculous recoveries! You saved more people in one night than I did in a month and you weren't even trying!"
"Coincidence," Harry waved his hand. "If I really could do anything like that, I'd cure Ginny."
"No, it wasn't!" Hermione disagreed, violently shaking her head. "There's magic in your music! You were magnificent today, look what it did for Ron's team. And here I am; I can't even play the simplest tune..."
Harry stood silently, expression unfathomable.
"Here," he said finally, "stand up."
Hermione looked up at him and did as she was told, a trusting expression on her face. Harry walked around behind her and wrapped his arms around her. He placed his hands on top of hers and muttered something under his breath; immediately, his hands suctioned down over hers, sticking their hands together. He flexed experimentally and Hermiones fingers flexed with him.
"You've got to let the music flow through you," he explained, sitting down, Hermione in his lap. "Let it be inside you; hear it in your head and let it flow out through your fingers. Like this."
Harry closed his eyes and his/Hermione's fingers began dancing over the strings. A soft, simple but haunting melody rose and Hermione closed her eyes too. Leaning back into Harry she let the music roll over her and Harry control her fingers. It was just like Harry said and unlike anything she had ever felt. She knew she could never do it without Harry guiding her, but that didn't bother her.
"Hermione," Harry said softly in her ear some time later. "Hermione... you're falling asleep. We need to take you back over to your place."
"No," Hermione pleaded, shaking her head and trying to clear the cobwebs. "Just one more."
"Ok," Harry sighed in defeat. "One more."
No sooner had Harry started than Hermione's head drooped once more. By the time he finished she was fast asleep, snuggled deeply into his arms. With a motion he sent the guitar drifting over to stand in the corner and unstuck their hands.
Harry's intent was to carry Hermione over to her own bed, but somehow he just couldn't work up the energy. And it felt so good to hold her, to be so close to and comfortable with another person. He hadn't had anyone in five years and Hermione was the only person he had ever felt this comfortable with even before. But it was strange at the same time. He wasn't really sure how he felt about it... with a wave he set his instruments to playing quietly and started to sing softly.
Trying hard to speak and
Fighting with my weak hand
Driven to distraction
So part of the plan
When something is broken
And you try to fix it
Trying to repair it
Any way you can
I'm diving off the deep end
You become my best friend
I wanna love you
But I don't know if I can
I know something is broken
And I'm trying to fix it
Trying to repair it
Any way I can...
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