A/N - hey ladies and gents. This is a weird chapter and I'm a bit unsure so I hope you like it. Thanks for all your reviews. Man, I thought when the first chapter only got 15 (and Angel, which I posted at the same time only got 10) that I was loosing my touch then you all went, in the words of Ron Weasley, mental!! Thanks heaps. Thanks for the person with the grammar hints - I need all of those that I can get but sadly you'll probably find the same mistakes. And to the reviewer who brought up that honour crimes happen more in Pakistan than India - you're right, but they do happen in India too. You'll see a bit of an explanation in the next chapter. Oh, and this shouldn't be more than ten or so chapters, I think…thanks again everyone!
Chapter 4
Hermione sat at a booth in the fast food restaurant over the road from the Leaky Cauldron and watched the entrance of the wizarding pub with surprised fascination. It was a Monday afternoon, the perfect time - or so she had thought - to slip quietly back into her old world when the streets of Diagon Alley would be quiet, letting herself remember the life she had left behind.
It seemed, however, that Diagon Alley wouldn't be as empty as she had hoped. In the half hour she had been sitting there, over two dozen witches and wizards had rushed into the grubby little building. Frowning, she downed the last of her coffee, took a deep breath and decided that it was time to make her move.
All through the flight from India to Heathrow, Hermione had tried to work out what she was going to do, how she was going find out about Harry. And Ron. Every idea seemed as idiotic as the last so she had decided on baby steps, taking one thing at a time and working her way up to going to the Burrow…perhaps.
So, she had booked herself into a hostel just down the road from Diagon Alley and thought that she would spend some time in Flourish and Blotts, starting at the place that had brought her so much joy over the years as well as a place she could find out the most about what had been going on since she'd left. She needed to catch up.
Standing outside the Leaky Cauldron, her feet suddenly didn't want to go any further. Hermione was about to turn away, her fear getting the best of her even though logic was telling her she was just visiting a book store, on a Monday afternoon - she wouldn't see anyone, they'd all be at work. Or something.
Two more wizards pushed past her, quickly entering the pub and curiosity finally got the better of her. Taking another deep breath, she entered the Leaky Cauldron.
The pub was empty, totally empty - even Tom, the barman, was missing. Hermione looked around in confusion when Tom bustled back.
"We're closed," he said abruptly, putting on his coat.
"Closed?" Hermione repeated, stupidly - when was the last time the Leaky Cauldron closed?
"Yes, closed," Tom confirmed, "you can stay here but the bar is warded so don't even think of helping yourself. I'll be lucky if I can see the stage at all at this rate, I'm so late…"
"Late? Late for what?" Hermione asked as Tom was just about to step out of the door.
"Late to see Harry Potter, of course!" And with that, he was gone.
Hermione stood looking at where Tom had indicated with his parting wave and saw a poster stuck on the pub wall. With her heart in her mouth, she walked over to read it.
Celebrate
HARRY POTTER DAY!!
Come and hear the famous
HARRY POTTER
Speak at
Diagon Alley
2pm
Monday, April 19
For the first time ever!!
Hermione stood and stared at the poster, not quite believing what she saw, her brain stuck on the fact there was a Harry Potter Day on a day that had no significance that she could think of - Voldemort was defeated in late May while Harry's birthday is in July. It didn't make sense.
The first year after the final battle, the Ministry had still been in reconstruction mode and forgotten to organise any form of commemoration. On the second year, they had asked the people involved directly, namely the Order, and were told in no uncertain terms could the Ministry organise anything without Harry. By the third year, the answer from Ron, Hermione and the Order had been no to any form of remembrance but the Ministry had done something anyway - a small, unattended affair that fizzled out quite quickly.
And now Harry had his own day and somehow this irked Hermione - the Harry she knew wouldn't have let this happen. But he would be there, at Diagon Alley. Speaking. In ten minutes.
Standing there and debating what she was going to do, she was suddenly distracted by a harassed looking woman and two small children running into the bar.
"Hurry Theo, or we'll miss him!" the mother cried to the flushed little boy, who without a word, followed her into the courtyard. Quickly, the gateway was opened, and without a second thought, Hermione followed the family into Diagon Alley.
It was deserted, the mother and her children rushing down the empty street and around the bend in the road. Hermione went the same way, but only at a fast walk as she looked at the wizarding street, remembering. Many of the shops had been rebuilt after the war, but there were also gapping holes were some places had been destroyed and left empty.
Distracted by her thoughts, she didn't notice the beginnings of the crowd until the chatter became an un-ignorable hum, the sound of hundreds of voices talking at the same time. Drawn back into the present, Hermione was amazed - there were hundreds of people jammed packed into a space where three or four shops used to be. All were facing a small stage that had been set up at the far edge, and along with everyone else, Hermione watched the stage with interest.
Soon an excited murmur waved through the crowd as some people made their way up on to the platform. Hermione only recognised the Minister of Magic, all the rest she guessed were other Ministry officials. After a few moments, she saw three more people make their way to the chairs on the stage, and these people she knew. The first was Mr Weasley, who was supporting a very weak looking Harry, followed closely by Ron. Hermione eyes became glued to the familiar black haired boy, not quite believing just how skinny and pale he looked or, in fact, he was actually there at all.
She watched as Harry finally looked up to the audience in front of him - and he stopped. Even from where she was standing, Hermione saw his eyes widen in shock before turning sharply to Ron where they had a heated discussion. Ron seemed to have been able to placate a clearly agitated Harry, who turned back around and continued his way to his chair, a dark scowl covering his face.
The exchange hadn't gone unnoticed by either the officials on the stage or the people watching - a confused hum scattered through the crowd. But Hermione didn't really care, she kept her eyes locked on to Harry.
The Minister finally got up and began his speech, welcoming everyone to the square and introducing Harry. Hermione only heard snippets, and held her breath in anticipation as Harry slowly made his way to the podium, ignoring the applause and whistles coming from the crowd. Ron followed him, Hermione got the impression he was there to catch Harry if he fell, saying the spell to amplify Harry's voice very discreetly before returning to his seat. Hermione frowned.
"When the Ministry asked me to speak here today," Harry started without any preamble and not worrying about the noise his audience was still making (though it quietened down almost instantly the moment he spoke), "my initial reaction was to say no. The Ministry had never done anything for me, in fact has ridiculed me and my friends over the years, so why do something for them? But then I was reminded that this would be the perfect opportunity to tell you the truth, let the few people who would show up," he glanced angrily at Ron and Hermione guessed that the audience size had been a surprise, "what really happened from the horses mouth, so to speak, and not from the biased slantings of the Daily Prophet or through the political distortions of the Ministry of Magic. So here I am, talking to you all on this stupid day named after me.
"So what happened? How did Voldemort die? I killed him - that's all you need to know about that, really. What you should actually remember are the many that lost their lives in the battle that got rid of Voldemort and has allowed you to live your lives in peace.
"There are so many names, but for me…" he paused, "I lost my parents, James and Lily Potter, my godfather, Sirius Black, my headmaster, mentor and friend, Albus Dumbledore and one of my best friends, Hermione Granger," Harry's voice hitched slightly and he paused again, Hermione felt the first tear roll down her face, "my friends lost families and homes and lived through times that no-one should ever have to live through. So remember them, remember your own losses, those who died in battle. Don't remember me - I was just the one chosen to finish what so many had worked so hard to make sure happened.
"So as you have your day off work, or out of school - think of them, not me. I didn't ask for this, I don't want this, all I want is to be left alone so I can heal, so I can work out what I'm going to do with the rest of my life, and so I can grieve for people that I've lost. I've given the wizarding community so much, including the last five years of my life which was spent lying in a hospital bed while the world carried on without me, and all I ask of you is to leave me alone. Thanks."
Harry abruptly turned from the podium and stumbled a bit, Ron immediately at his side, supporting him. The crowd weren't too sure what to do and there was only a scattering of applause once people had actually realised Harry had finished speaking. The Minister and his officials just sat their in stunned silence, their mouths open in shock.
"Is that it? Can I leave now?" Harry's voice still resonated through the crowd, the sonorus charm not yet disabled, his displeasure of being there obvious. Hermione could see Mr Weasley say something, while Ron tried to hide a smile, "what?" Harry asked but then was silent.
Hermione wiped away the few tears that had escaped down her cheeks and kept an eye on the group of red heads surrounding the one messy black haired head as they made their way through the now dispersing crowd. Pushing her way to where they were, hoping they wouldn't Apparate before she was able to see them all up close, she stopped short as the crowd parted and she could see him clearly.
Harry was pale, too pale, with dark bags under his eyes. He still wore the round rim glasses that were as part of him as his scar or his eyes - both now standing out vibrantly against his paleness, the green of his eyes as intense as always. His robes hung off of him and his face was hollow and unhealthy looking.
Ron was by his side, looking the same as he did before she left, with perhaps a strength and maturity that had been missing now showing in the way he held himself. His mother and father were there as well, Mrs Weasley fussing over Harry like she used to when they had been younger.
And there was Ginny, holding Harry's hand tightly as they walked away, her pretty face creased in worry as she talked to both Harry and Ron. Hermione's heart plummeted. She realised that there was a chance that Harry had gone back with Ginny - Ginny hadn't been in a serious relationship when Hermione had left and although they had spoken about 'that night', they were all adults now and it was part of Harry's past. There was no reason why the 'perfect couple' wouldn't pick up where they had left off.
Hermione's heart began to shatter, but she couldn't take her eyes off of Harry and then without warning, he was looking back. Their eyes locked, ever so briefly, until a group of people passed between them and when they had gone, so had Harry. Hermione turned away and ran in the opposite direction until she had found a secluded spot between shops, leant against the wall and burst into tears.
He thought she was dead. He was with Ginny now. She had nothing, no reason to stay. Mother Rose was wrong. Angrily wiping her face on the sleeve of her jacket, Hermione straightened up and told herself to get over it. She began to lecture her brain on the facts; that she knew there was a chance this would happen, that she had been out of their lives for so long, she couldn't expect them to stop living just because she wasn't there.
Feeling like she was back in control, she made her way into the now busy streets. She wasn't in the mood for the bookstore any more, so with purpose, she made her way back through the Leaky Cauldron and out into Muggle London, walking around until she found a chapel open where she went in and found some peace.
The following day she returned to Diagon Alley to do what she hadn't done the day before. There weren't as many people (which was what she wanted) but those who were there were still talking about Harry's speech. Or lack of it. The opinions seemed pretty divided - either Harry's request was fair enough, he had been through so much after all or he was arrogant, and that he was famous and therefore should expect attention and be thankful for it.
Hermione tried to ignore the many often fierce conversations taking place as she made her way to Flourish and Blotts, letting the quietness of the book shop engulf her as she walked in. She wondered if the attendants would recognise her, after all, she had been such a frequent and passionate customer throughout her Hogwarts years, but was thankful they didn't.
Putting on her reading glasses (which weren't that dissimilar to Harry's and a reasonably new accessory), she started to browse. There were new titles that piqued her interest, but she had no money so they were merely looked at, skimmed through and put back. Wandering through the shelves, Hermione smiled, her first real smile for a long time. This was home.
The smile died on her face nearly as soon as it got there as a new section had been added to the rambling shop. A section on Harry. There had been books written about him before he had come to Hogwarts, she had read a couple herself, and the books had kept being written through out his school life. She had hidden this fact from Harry, discreetly steering him away from any titles that professed to know everything there is about the Boy-Who-Lived. She had also known that many books had been started about him after the last battle, both she and Ron had been asked to participate by some authors. It had even been suggested that Hermione document all of their adventures - an idea that had merit, but she had turned down anyway. She wouldn't do anything of the sort until she had permission from Harry.
It seemed, however, that other authors weren't as thoughtful and there was now a whole wall devoted to Harry Potter books. And it was very popular. Hermione sighed and left the store.
She then spent the next couple of days in Muggle London, doing some sight seeing and visiting the great libraries and museums that she loved. By the end of the week, she felt she was ready to go to Hogwarts, so on a bright, crisp April morning she found herself standing at the boundaries of her old school, looking at its familiar turrets with a sense of longing.
Locating a spot between the road and the forest where she could see the castle, lake and even the small white dot of Dumbledore's tomb, Hermione sat with her knees pulled to her chest so she could hug them close, her chin resting on her knees. She stayed like that for hours, watching the students come and go across the grounds, remembering the simpler times when it was her, Ron and Harry just making their way from one class to another.
"…and then Luna, bless her, said that she would. I mean, I just really don't know what I'd do without her!"
Hermione jumped up quickly at the sound of the voice on coming up the road and darted behind one of the many trees that lined the entrance to Hogwarts gates. Peering out from her spot, she saw Ron and Harry walking slowly towards her.
"You're very lucky," Harry replied shortly.
"Bloody hell," Ron exclaimed, pausing mid pace, Harry stopping a few steps ahead, "I'm such a git! Sorry mate, I didn't mean to…"
"It's alright Ron," Harry said, his voice not quite conveying the same intention as his words, "I'm glad you're happy. You deserve to be happy. It's just…" he looked up at the castle, "I don't think I can do this."
"Do you want to go back?"
Hermione could see Harry debating his options as Ron stood by quietly and waited. She once more noticed just how skinny Harry was, and although still handsome, his features were more harsher than before, more angular. Ron, however, looked like he had put on a bit of weight.
"No," Harry said finally, "I need to do this. I need to see him. I think Dumbledore will know if I'm going barmy or not and perhaps even give me an idea on what to do to find her."
"We told you you aren't barmy…"
"But you don't believe me either," Harry reasoned calmly, "it was her, I know it. Hermione was at that stupid speech thing."
Hermione clamped her hand over her mouth to stifle her sharp intake of breath. He had recognised her. Ron stood looking at Harry and she could tell that they had had this conversation many times before, which was confirmed when Ron quickly changed the subject.
"We could go to the portrait at St Mungo's instead…"
"I don't want to go back to that place unless I really have to," Harry nearly growled, then broke out into a smile, his mood changing quickly, "besides, this way we can pop in and say hi to Hagrid."
"True, true," Ron chuckled, "well, let's do this then. Professor McGonagall is expecting us."
"Don't you mean Minerva?" Harry laughed as they began to walk once again, "isn't that what we're supposed to call her now we're all grown up?"
"Mate, there is no way I'm ever going to call her by her first name…"
Ron's voice began to die away as they walked further away from her and when she felt it was safe, she came out of her hiding spot and watched their retreating backs. Harry had recognised her when no-one else had. Sure, he knew her better than anyone alive, but it had been just a glance across a crowd of people. A glance that had lasted only seconds. A glance that had taken place when he was with Ginny.
Ron and Harry disappeared from sight leaving Hermione alone once more. Still staring at the place where they once were, she took a deep breath and tried to placate the turmoil in her mind. After a few moments, she felt back in control and Apparated to Diagon Alley.
The next few days were…challenging for Hermione. Her magic was getting better the more she used it, making her realise how much she actually missed it. She spent a lot of time reading newspapers, catching up on events that had happened while she was away. And she spent a lot of time trying to work out what she was going to do about Harry.
She was so confused. She thought he was with Ginny, but when she saw him at Hogwarts, for some reason she didn't think that was the case - he just seemed so intent in finding answers about whether he saw her or not. One thing she did know was that she wasn't going to chance seeing him again until she was ready. So she packed up her stuff and went to Oxford.
Her family home was being well looked after with it looking the same as when she left it five years prior. After visiting the agency that was managing the property for her, she visited the bank, seeing that the regular payments of rent had given her a nice nest egg and although it wouldn't keep her indefinitely, she didn't necessarily need to get a job straight away.
Settled in a backpackers not far from the centre of the city, Hermione began enjoying the familiarity of living in the place where she had grown up. It had been the first real time she had spent in Oxford since the death of her parents, preferring to spend her time in London while Harry had been sick. She had come to see where her parents were buried, but her visits had been short. This time was different.
After a week and a half of revisiting old haunts and saying hi to family friends, she decided that it was time to go to the cemetery. It was difficult, it always was, but now even more so. She walked past the gravestones of people she didn't know until she came to the plot where her mother and father had been buried six years before, holding on tightly to a small bunch of lavender lilies, her mother's favourite. Frowning, she saw a figure already at the gravesite, kneeling in front of the two headstones. It wasn't until she got a bit closer that she recognised the mourner.
It was Harry.
Why he was there, she didn't know. How he happened to choose the same day she did to visit her parents, she didn't know. It was just too weird, out of all the places and all the times…
The shock rooted her to the spot as she just stood, watching him. It looked like he was having a conversation, a bunch of lilies already in the vase by her mother's headstone while hers were forgotten in her hand.
He began to stand, swaying unsteadily and she fought back every instinct she had to run to him and help. She wanted to hide, to get away from him, but her feet wouldn't move - until he looked up and saw her. They stared at each other, immobile.
"Hermione," he suddenly blurted out, his voice loud in the stillness of the graveyard. The spell that had held her was finally broken, and in blind panic, she turned and ran. She could hear him trying to catch up with her, but couldn't as his injuries held him back. Still, she ran until she couldn't breathe, finally stopping and allowing her deprived lungs to grab as much air as they could.
Why was he here? Neither Harry or Ron had known her parents that well, not even knowing where she had lived until their seventh year. So why was Harry now having conversations with her dead parents at their gravesites? And how did he know that lilies had been her mother's favourite flower?
She closed her eyes in memory. Of course he knew. When her parents were murdered, Harry had taken it nearly as hard as her. It was the catalyst that led to the destruction of Voldemort but it had also been so painfully personal for Hermione.
She wasn't allowed to go to their funerals, it was too dangerous, so they had held a memorial in the grounds of Hogwarts. As many of the Order members who could be spared were there, as were her friends from school. But it was the presence of her two best friends that meant the most. She had stood there between Ron and Harry, thankful for their support at a time when she desperately needed it. She had placed a small bunch of lilies at the foot of the tree that had been planted in her parent's honour; explaining then they were her mother's favourite flowers.
And Harry had remembered, years later.
She shook her head in confused frustration. This wasn't the way it was meant to be. She was supposed to do things in her own time - she wasn't ready to see him, not yet. Not when he was with Ginny.
Hermione opened her eyes and sighed. Oxford wasn't as big as London, but it was big enough that the chances of seeing Harry again would be slight. Even if he was staying around, which he probably wasn't.
Feeling a bit more relaxed, she stepped out from the wall she had been leaning against and began walking home to the backpackers. She would go back and visit her parents another day and in the meantime, she would use this time alone to really sit down and think about how she felt and what she was going to do next.
Over the next few days, that's exactly what she did. The debate within her continued - the need to see him and just hold him or to see him and confront him about how he felt or just to stay away. Each idea seemed right, depending on how she felt at the time, but as the days went on, logic told her she couldn't leave without knowing the truth.
She would have to return to the Burrow.
That thought scared her more than anything else. Her last memories of the Weasley home weren't pleasant and she really didn't know how she would be able to keep her emotions in check when she saw Harry with Ginny. But it had to be done, she needed closure once and for all.
She had now been back in England for a month, her time at Oxford being a couple of weeks, and she found herself in no need to rush. She was living as a Muggle and enjoying it, determined not to see Harry again unless it was on her terms and to do that was to stay away from the wizarding world as much as possible.
Although he was never far from her thoughts, Hermione had begun to be the Hermione of old, her confidence returning day by day. She found herself returning to the books that she loved, spending hours at the libraries of the many universities that populated Oxford, just reading any one of the millions of books that took her fancy.
She even snuck into a few lectures that had sounded interesting, melding in with the actual students with ease. Being around people who enjoyed learning as much as she did at least solved one problem for her - Hermione realised what she wanted to do with her life, and that was to become a student. Soon she was pouring over the different subjects offered by the different universities, not only in Oxford but the whole of the United Kingdom. So many sounded interesting that it was becoming difficult to choose, but bit by bit she was narrowing her selection down.
Hermione had been so lost in thought, looking over a prospectus for a university in Wales as she sipped her cup of coffee in a local café, that she didn't notice she was being watched. It wasn't until she stood to go that she noticed him; hands in his pockets, wild black hair being blown by the breeze, shoulders hunched against the cold, intense green eyes looking at her. As soon as he saw he had been spotted, he came to her in brisk, purposeful steps even before she had registered he was there. She turned to run.
"Hermione, stop," Harry called to her, "please, don't run. Please!"
Hermione hung her head and closed her eyes in weary defeat. She could never say no Harry.