A/N: I know, bad, bad author! I should be writing a new chapter of Final Battle but I was watching The Notebook the other night and it hit me how it would be a perfect storyline for a H/Hr fic. I HAD to write it. I've been banging out the specifics of it all afternoon and, well, here I am. This is MASSIVELY AU, and often times very OOC as well. Please just try to take it for what it is and not yell at me that Luna's not as psychotic as she should be, or anything else for that matter. Trust me. This WILL be a good story. A very good story.
Please, please, PLEASE leave me feedback on this one! If it's absolute and utter crap I'll abandon the idea and I won't even bother with chapter two. But if you like it, please tell me!
And on that note, Harry Potter and co. belong to JKR, and I lay absolutely no claim to any of Nicholas Sparks' work, or The Notebook. I just have no life.
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I check the hallway carefully, peeking out beyond the frame of my bedroom door. Healer Pole is flicking her wand about, making notations on the varying condition of the patients in this ward. Her lime green Healer robes seem to glow in the dim night.
She picks up an empty mug and heads down the hallway, apparently for a cup of coffee.
Seizing my chance, I re-adjust my night robe tightly around my waist and smooth my pyjamas before I step out into the hallway.
I can feel my heart beating violently, almost nervously, in my chest at the prospect of being near her. I enter her room, and cross the floor to stand next to her bed.
I reach out and gently rest my hand on her silvery hair, and she smiles in her sleep, taking my hand in her own upon pure instinct. I smile as she opens her eyes.
"What do you want?" she demands, her eyes filled with confusion. Her face betrays her growing panic, and I do my best to soothe her.
"It's me, sweetheart," I say softly, stroking her hand in that calming motion she always liked.
"Who are you? I don't know you! Why are you in my room? Someone help me!" she cries, and I can hear the pitter patter of the healer's feet approaching the room.
My heart sinks. Though she may have recognized my touch in her sleep, her waking state affords her no recollection of my identity.
Healer Pomfrey shoots me a glare as she enters the room on Healer Pole's heels. Pole is comforting her, holding her and calming her in a manner only a woman could convey. Pomfrey's eyes are shooting daggers into my heart, and all I can manage is a feeble "I'm sorry," as she leads me from the room.
Over my shoulder I can hear Pole's soothing voice as she tells her, "It's okay, honey. Just a mistake. Probably wandered over from the Spell Damage ward. It'll all be alright."
My chest aches; it feels as though my heart is shattering into a million pieces as it does every time this happens. She's all mine for a few mere minutes that can feel like an eternity, and then she slips away from me again.
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Dawn falls upon the Home For Elderly Witches and Wizards, where the Healers and various Medi-witches and -wizards are taking the long-term residents through their morning routine of potions, healing spells, and breakfast.
I, of course, am used to this entire process. Sad as it is to admit the fact, but I am one of the few residents here who remains by choice. The majority of the witches and wizards in this place are here strictly because they have to be, or because their minds or bodies are too far gone for their families to be able to care for them.
As is routine, I step in line behind a few wizards I don't entirely recognize to wait for my morning potions. I recognize the man at the front of the line, and offer a greeting.
"Good morning, Seamus, how's it hangin'?" I ask, recalling fonder days of our Hogwarts youth.
The Irish wizard turns to offer me a primarily toothless grin as he downs his potion. "Same as always, Phoenix. I keep tryin' to die but they won't let me."
I chuckle at his joke, yet part of my mind recalls a time where I would have said something similar without the jesting manner. "Yeah, well, can't have everything."
Seamus moves off, presumably to the cafeteria for breakfast, and the Medi-Witch behind the counter greets me. Her flaming red hair and grey eyes bring a smile to my face; she clearly gets her traits from her parents.
"I think today's the day," I say to her with a smile. She knows full well of my exploits.
"You say that every day, Phoenix." she grins, handing me a few vials of varying potions. Her smile is that of her father's, and I do my best not to wince at the reminder. Though we haven't spoken in years, his daughter has always been more than kind to me and does not seem to be overly affected by the rift between her father and myself. He doesn't understand what I'm trying to do here at the Home, and we last spoke when he tried to convince me to move back home with the rest of my family.
With a nod I head off after Seamus. Perhaps a bit of breakfast would do me well.
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Feeling well stuffed and satisfied I make my way down the hall to her room. I peek around the door to see Healer Pole brushing her hair. It lost its unmanageable quality as she matured, but the silvery strands still held the curly essence of her youth. To some it may sound silly, but to me she is as beautiful now as the day I met her.
"I've no idea what I want to do," she says, grumbling at the Healer. My guess is that Pole made suggestions as to her daily activities. "But I'll tell you what I don't want to do! Exploding snap, that's for sure! Who in Merlin's name could invent such a game as that? And for that matter, how did I end up stuck with people who enjoy such a game?"
I hide a laugh as I fondly recall a day when she would have gladly recited to me each and every witch or wizard who had a hand in the creation of exploding snap. Or for that matter, when she would have considered playing alongside the rest of us.
"I'd much rather make an attempt at Quidditch than play exploding snap!" she says harshly. Again I try to contain my laughter-the mere thought of her playing the sport is hilarious, as she would barely get on a broom when we were in school.
Rather than watch her debate with Healer Pole about the finer things in life compared to a silly card game, I choose this moment to enter the room.
"Hello," I say, unfortunately startling her. As she turns to face me, I can see the lack of recognition in her eyes. Those beautiful, chocolate eyes.
"Yes?" she asks with an air of superiority.
"This is Phoenix." Healer Pole introduces me. Though Healer Pomfrey may still be angry with me for the events of the previous night, Healer Pole clearly understands what I am attempting to do.
"What do you want?" she demands, clearly unimpressed with my presence.
"He's here to read to you." Healer Pole interjects, giving her a stern look that clearly says `Cooperate or you'll be playing Exploding Snap.'
She shoots the Healer a nervous glance. "Oh, I don't know…"
Pole smiles at her and helps her up from the chair. "Give him a chance, dear. You'll like him, I promise! He's very funny, has all us Healers in absolute stitches each morning at the breakfast table!"
She clearly seems resigned to her fate and reluctantly takes my arm as I steer her outdoors towards the overly large porch that wraps around the back of the home.
I help her settle into a comfortable chair and wrap a worn and faded afghan around her shoulders, lest she catch a chill. I find myself staring into her eyes for a moment, forgetting my place. A not so subtle cough on her part and I retreat to my own chair, re-adjusting my glasses and finding my page.
"Shall we continue where we left off? On the train?" I ask her kindly, knowing that she'll agree out of pity despite the fact that she doesn't realize we've already begun the story.
She nods, settling herself further into her seat. "Is this the funny part?" she quips, recalling Healer Pole's previous praise.
"Absolutely. There was loads of laughing that day, and everyone was having fun. Harry was there with his two best friends, Luna and Ron."
"Harry?" she asks.
I nod. "That's the day they met. September first, 1997. Hermione was seventeen at the time, turning eighteen in just a little over two weeks. She and her family had just moved to England, and she had transferred from the Beauxbatons Academy to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry for her seventh and final year of magical education. They met on the train to the old Scottish castle."
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Ron and I sat together in our train compartment, sipping the butterbeers we'd purchased from the trolley. We were catching up on what we'd missed with each other over the summer when Ron was distracted by the sight of our other best friend (and Ron's girlfriend), Luna, coming down the aisle of the train with an unfamiliar girl in tow.
"Who's that with Luna?" I asked, eyeing her appreciatively.
"Hermione Granger. She's new here. Her parents are rich, they're muggle healers of some sort." He answered.
Just before Luna could reach the door of our compartment she, and Hermione, were accosted by numerous seventh year boys.
"Can I get you a chocolate frog?" asked a black-haired boy carrying a toad. Hermione gracefully declined.
"A chocolate frog? Is that the best you can do, Longbottom?" snorted a blond with cool grey eyes. He slicked his hair back nervously as he approached Hermione. "Good choice there. Name's Malfoy. Draco Malfoy. And I can do a lot better than a measly chocolate frog."
He bowed and extended a hand to her, waiting for her to slip hers into his own so that he could kiss it.
Hermione laughed, and turned to the next boy, ignoring Draco.
"Dean Thomas. And perhaps a butterbeer to soothe a parched throat?" he offered, his dazzling white smile a handsome contrast against his dark skin.
"Sure." She smiled.
I don't recall when I got up, but soon I found myself standing directly in front of Hermione as Dean moved towards the trolley to purchase her butterbeer.
I shot a nervous glance at Luna. "Would you two ladies like to join Ron and I in our compartment?" I asked, looking directly into the molten chocolate that was Hermione's eyes.
She blushed, and I hoped it was because she detected the sincerity in my voice.
"No."
Not what I was expecting.
"Why not?"
"I just don't." she replied.
Malfoy decided to speak up at that moment, clearly glad to take any chance presented for a shot at my ego.
"Hey, Potter, she's with us."
I glared at him and turned my attention back to Hermione. "That's fine," I said grudgingly. "I didn't exactly want company anyway."
I flashed her a grin as dazzling as I can muster, and took a swig of my butterbeer. Just then Dean returned with Hermione's drink.
"Want to come sit in my compartment?" he asked, offering her his arm.
She shot a triumphant glance in my direction as she took his arm. "I'd love to."
As they began to waltz down the aisle Luna popped into the compartment to give Ron a brief kiss before she dragged him after her. I watched as they swaggered away from me, and left me by myself.
I wasn't going to give up without a fight. I reached into my pocket and withdrew a fleshy coloured string. Ron Weasley had two genius older twin brothers who had a delightful line of joke products. I held in my hands an Extendable Ear, which I was shamelessly about to use to eavesdrop on the conversation.
As Dean and the boys led the way into the compartment, Luna snuggled up next to Hermione and began to whisper in her ear. Fortunately she was being loud enough (sometimes I still wonder if it was on purpose) for me to hear what she was saying.
"That's Harry Potter."
Hermione looked at her, shocked. Apparently the books she was so fond of didn't come with pictures.
"Really. I'm surprised he even said something to you, he's really shy with people he doesn't know."
Hermione snorted. "I find that hard to believe. I've read all about him, you know; in the papers. I may have grown up in France but I was born in England, and my parents still subscribe to the Daily Prophet. That boy has an ego bigger than Fudge's."
I silently cursed Rita Skeeter for all the rubbish she's printed about me over the years.
Suddenly my eyes met Hermione's; she'd seen me casually lounging in the corridor, and must not have recognized the fleshy string attached to my ear.
"He's…" she began, most likely about to tell Luna that I was watching.
"He's utterly mad," Luna interrupted, and I bit off a laugh. I'd never thought that I would hear her describing me in such a manner-most often it was the other way around. "He's Ron's friend, but I've no idea what the boy's on about half the time. I know it must be hard for him, being the Boy-Who-Lived and all that, but sometimes I still think he's nutters."
Dean chose that moment to bring Hermione closer to him, and swung his arm around her shoulder. I couldn't help but watch, and she immediately looked at me again.
Then she stuck her tongue out at me.
That did it. I was not going to sit there and have her mock me while my two best friends were ignoring me! I burst through the door after having brought down the locking charms with my wand. Apparently Dean and his friends were determined to keep me out.
With a triumphant grin on my face I sat myself down directly between Dean and Hermione, and he had no choice but to move his arm. I promptly ignored him and turned to Hermione.
"Hi. I'm Harry. Harry Potter."
I do hate to use my name to get what I want, but this girl was beautiful. She was making me feel something I'd never felt before, and I was determined to have more.
"So?"
What is with this girl? First she refuses a perfectly polite invitation and then she can't even be bothered with an introduction? I hate to admit, but I was desperate. I resorted to every ounce of charm in my body and flashed her a smile that I knew would have had the witches of Hogwarts throwing their knickers at me.
"So nice to meet you, Hermione Granger. If you would be so inclined, I'd like to take you out."
Dean was not impressed, and wordlessly cast a spell that left me grasping at the floor of the train as my legs dangled through the hole he had created in the floor. I held on for dear life as my toes came dangerously close to the train tracks, and watched as he threatened to hex anyone who tried to help me.
"Sod off, Potter." He said through clenched teeth.
I glanced at Luna and winked at her. She knew that I was perfectly capable of getting myself out of that mess; I am, after all, The Chosen One, and the fact that I was using my hands to hang on to the train rather than my wand had no bearing on my magical abilities.
I glared at Dean and the rest of the boys in the compartment and they found themselves sufficiently pinned to their seats. No amount of struggling was going to move them.
"Harry, stop it!" Luna pleaded. Maybe she didn't have as much faith in me as I thought. "You're going to bloody well kill yourself if your fingers slip!"
I ignored her and looked at Hermione. "Well, will you go out with me?"
She gasped. "What? No!"
"Why not?"
"I don't want to!" she spat back, glaring at me.
"Back to that are we?" I said, sounding exasperated. "Well, you leave me no choice, I suppose."
My left hand let go of the floor of the train.
I heard both girls gasp, and chuckled silently when they realized that their wands were stuck to the ceiling with a sticking charm, and they were as helpless as the boys. I hated to resort to such idiotic things to get Hermione to agree to go out with me, but there was something about her. I had to find out what it was.
Luna glared at me. She was clearly not as amused by this as I was. "Harry, stop kidding around before you get hurt!"
I fixed her with a stare that clearly said `Trust me', and then turned back to Hermione.
"I'm only going to ask you this one more time. Will you, or will you not, go out with me? Because I can only hang on for so much longer and then-"
I fixed a look of shock on my face, and appeared to jerk downwards an inch or so.
"Bollocks." I mutter.
Both girls looked terrified.
"I think I'm slipping."
They began to panic and were quickly on the floor, grabbing at my hands in a desperate attempt to pull me up. I was more in control of the situation than they realized, and let myself slip another precarious inch.
"I think I'm going to fall!" I said, looking into Hermione's eyes.
"Okay, okay! You can take me out, Harry Potter!" she said.
Now, I'm not one to settle for the first reaction I get, so I couldn't resist continuing the game.
"Oh no, I wouldn't want you taking pity on me. If you don't want to go I can't make you…"
"No, I want to! Really, I do!" she argued, looking desperate.
"You sure?"
"Yes!" she exclaimed.
With that I quickly swung myself up into the compartment, wandlessly sealing the hole in the floor and releasing everyone and their wands from their bonds.
Hermione's face turned a deep shade of red that would have made my hated Uncle Vernon jealous. "Ooh, you think you're so smart, don't you, Harry Potter! I'm not the brightest witch of my age for nothing!" she seethed.
"That was not funny, Harry." Luna glared at me. Apparently seeing me dangling in the direction of certain death didn't tickle her fancy.
"I'll take care of it." Hermione grinned, and flicked her wand about faster than I could say Quidditch.
Next thing I knew I had no wand, no Extendable Ear, no Invisibility Cloak, or any other trick up my sleeve for that matter. The wand part didn't concern me overmuch as I was fully capable of casting wordlessly and wandlessly, but suddenly I found myself unable to do either.
For once in my life, I realized that there might be someone out there who I would fear more than Tom Riddle.
With a lazy flick of her wand, I felt my pants begin to unbuckle and slide down my legs. Oh no. There was no way I was recovering from this one. I did my best to tune out the laughter of Dean, Neville, and Draco (fortunately Ron was enough of a best mate to respect my embarrassment), and instead focused on the witch who was carefully exacting her revenge.
"Not so cocky now, are you?" she taunted, emphasising that one specific word. I felt that very body part nearly shrivel in embarrassment at my current predicament.
I sadly resigned myself to the fate that the next edition of Witch Weekly would proudly proclaim "Boxers or Briefs? We Know What the Chosen One Chooses!"
"Just you wait, Hermione Granger. I'll get you for this." If she wouldn't come to me, I'd come to her.
Then she fixed me with a dazzling smile that made me want to throw my knickers at her, and said in a thoroughly endearing tone, "Maybe you will." She winked. "But on the other hand, maybe you won't."
With that the six of them left the compartment (Both Ron and Luna shooting apologetic glances over their shoulders), and I found myself frozen to the spot. Oh, it was going to be fun explaining this to McGonagall when we got to Hogsmeade.
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