He heard the muttering diminish as he stared into the wide hallway. Gringott's officials shot surreptitious glances at him before continuing their investigations into the new case. He had only been informed of the situation a few hours ago and was now dreading every moment that would pass between now and tomorrow.
The investigation was into one of the richest wizards in Britain, Ronald Weasley. It was reported that he had gained his money through property investment and also one of the largest shopping malls, for wizards only, ever built on English soil. The mall consisted of an enormous and wealthy joke shop run by Fredrick and George Weasley. Their creativeness, originality and vision inspired many and now young witches and wizards had a chance, the ultimate opportunity to undertake vengeance on adults.
As for Ronald Weasley, the latest Harry had heard of him, was that he was now a changed man from the boy he had once known. His wealth had affected his once amiable character. He was at times charitable, every now and again Harry would open the Daily Prophet to see the red-haired burly man handing over a sizeable check to new hospitals or schools. Other reports said that Ron had become conceited. Power-hungry and at the worst of times, arrogant and greedy if he did not get his own way. He was constantly trying to expand his empire, creating more money to feed his craving. It was ironic that he should be so after his underprivileged upbringing.
Harry tried to remember the exact point when everything had changed and after little consideration he put it down to the months after his distressing sixth year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
Harry, realizing he was losing two important people in his life, found himself in a painful predicament. He saw where their relationship was leading, he saw they had a future if he bowed out. He became an introvert, a recluse. Withdrawn to the point where he would reject conversation. And so one day, they had awoken to find Harry had mysteriously disappeared.
He had sought out and single-handedly destroyed the Horcruxes and discovered Lord Voldemort's whereabouts. Alone and friendless, he had murdered Voldemort, ridding the world of his evil. When Order members and Aurors had reached the scene, they found only Voldemort's desecrated remains.
Harry had departed long before they had arrived. There were rumors he had died tragically, that at some point in the vicious struggle Voldemort had killed him. Then, five years later, Harry had turned up at the Ministry to apply for Auror training. The news shocked the world. Journalists had a field day. Potter had returned, alive and alone.
Funny to think that another five years later and the world had forgotten him. He remained isolated from society, enjoying the peace. After three years of Auror training, he left and found a reasonable job in the wizarding world's most renowned bank, Gringotts. His occupation entailed investigating members of the bank who had unknown sources of mass income. He had taken down some of the wealthiest men in the world. They had been imprisoned and their assets had been ceased by the Ministry.
His heart had stopped when he read the name on the case file. He had seen Ron rarely since he left, almost ten years ago. He had been incensed at Harry's decision but Harry blatantly ignored him. It was all he could do. He did not wish to feel guilty about consequences of actions long past. He had done what he had been born to do, now he was just living a life he never could have imagined.
*************************************************************
Ron glared angrily at him from the doorway of the stainless steel kitchen. "So…this is how you say hello, is it?! Investigating sources of income! I found this empire truthfully, Harry! I worked hard! For years I worked my ass off and now you think you have the right to just come in here and destroy everything." Ron's screaming did not seem to have any effect on Harry. He did not flinch, move or even blink. Ron was ushered into what Harry assumed to be the sitting room, leaving the hallway in relative calm again.
A wide sweeping staircase led up onto the second floor of the mansion. Elevated windows allowed orange, yellow beams to illuminate the main hall. The mansion appeared to be essentially ordinary. If Harry had randomly entered the house he would have believed it to be a muggle residence. But when taking into deliberation who the woman of the house was, it made perfect sense that there was so many muggle objects. Broad doorways lined the left wall while a corridor running adjacent to the stairway lined the right.
Running a long scrawny hand through his already tousled black hair, he entered the house and immediately started doing his job. An assembly of goblins, whom Harry had ordered, filed out the front door, each carrying a pile of documents, invoices or anything else that had either Ron's signature or the eminent Weasley crest.
He ambled, both hands thrust into the pockets of his suit, into what appeared to be an office. The room was nearly devoid of all furniture. A single black cabinet stood in the corner and a desk sat opposite the door. After inspecting the cabinet and unearthing only alcohol, he resolved to examine the desk, which was usually a hot spot for detectives. Sitting behind the large mahogany desk, he picked up some papers, leaned back into the leather revolving chair and glanced briefly at the records of money transactions. They all seemed fairly clean, but Harry would take them for further scrutiny anyway.
He searched the remainder of the house, which was a flurry of activity. He would occasionally come across moving promotional photographs of Ron introducing new plans and ideas for his company to crowds of executives. He continued to open door after door, at times amazed at what he found. There was definitely magic occupying the house, lengthening corridors and expanding rooms.
Even though he gave the impression of idle boredom, in his gait and his facial expressions, his tedious mind was always operating. After rifling through vast forests of paper, he felt a tough, arduous headache threatening to interrupt his work.
He reached a door at the end of the long wooden corridor. Turning the brass doorknob, he lazily pushed it open and found himself in a library. Shelves of well kept books lined three of the walls while a desk occupied the space under the large bay window that looked out over the lush green fields of Weasley property. He idly examined his watch and resolved to leave soon. He had avoided conflict as he had wished to do. They had gathered enough evidence to return to the banks' headquarters. Harry would conclude his work there.
He plopped indolently into the chair behind the desk, closing his eyes against the suns raw rays. He would wait until the goblins had completed their work before leaving. Leaning forward, he fumbled with one of the desks' drawers but it would not budge. After fumbling around some more he gave up and reclined again.
It was then that he noticed the ornately framed photograph on the desk before him. It was something he had been dreading seeing while in the mansion. The photograph was that of a magnificent wedding. The stylish groom, Ron, beamed joyously into the lens, his arm wrapped tightly around his new wife. Every feeling that Harry had ever experienced seemed to rip through him as he looked into the enchanted eyes of Hermione Granger.
All the wasted nights he had spent thinking about her, the meals he missed so he would not have to be with her or the copious amounts of homework he did so he would not have to leave her. From what he had completed of his seventh year, he spent most of his time captivated by her. Analyzed her every move, remembered her routines. Her favourite drink, her preferred food, everything he had naively missed out on in the first six years of his friendship with her.
She was the solitary reason he had not left immediately after sixth year. He could not bear the thought of living without her. Waking up in anguish at the thought of not laying eyes on her ever again.
When the time came, he did leave. He left to save the wizarding world, knowing that if and when he ever returned, the world would have changed dramatically. He taught himself to live without her love. The compassion and the constant companionship she always held for him. He knew she would never love him the way he had once loved her, that the past had been forgotten. Her present was now as was his.
He never thoroughly understood her reasons for loving Ron. They appeared to be at constant loggerheads with each other. Bickering, fighting, screaming at each other. But she would always hold back when roaring at Ron while he just went all out.
Harry saw the sorrow Ron caused her, the tears she cried because of him. And yet now they were married. Happily, he had heard. She had her future before her, and if this investigation crumbled and Ron was innocent, then he wished her the very best and would say goodbye accordingly.
"What are you doing here, Harry?" a voice interrupted his dismal musings.
He replaced the photograph deftly back on the desk, regaining the indifferent, casual manner he had built for himself over the last decade. He reclined leisurely into the seat to attain a better view of her. His breath would have hitched if he had allowed it. She looked even more beautiful then the last time he had laid eyes on her, too long ago. Her hair was straightened perfectly, tied back but still hanging lightly in front of her face.
She had the most simplest of make-up on, consequently giving her a natural overwhelming beauty. Even though she was wearing grey sweatpants and a grey vest, she had evidently been exercising, Harry still found her enthralling. But he would never let her know this, not visibly. He had become a master of hiding his truth.
"Working," he answered plainly. "I'm sure you have been notified of the situation Mrs. Weasley. My colleagues and I will be on our way as soon as all potential evidence is collected." He felt a fragment of his stone heart fall away and shatter as he addressed her by that name.
"How could you do this, Harry? Ron is a good man. He is not a dishonest criminal," she yelled, the pain and frustration obvious in her tone.
"I did not order this search. Gringott's did. I work for them so I do their work. You know how employment works, Mrs. Weasley?" he asked unconcernedly.
"Don't do that, Harry. Don't act the stranger. Just because we haven't spoken in over nine years, does not mean you can forget about everything. Six years…I stood by you, faced life with you. Dangerous situations, near death experiences."
Harry averted his eyes, gazing now at the locked drawer. "What's in here?" he interrupted.
Hermione seemed stunned into silence. Her thin lips were slightly opened in shock. "It doesn't matter. Nothing matters to you anymore."
"It would be much appreciated if you could open the drawer," he responded sharply, shaking the drawer fruitlessly.
"Ginny was absolutely correct. You have changed. You're almost unrecognisable," she whispered disbelievingly. He paused, unable to take the forlorn look in her eyes or the downhearted tone of her voice. He lapsed back into the chair again, which was not as comfortable as before and massaged his now aching forehead.
"So you still get on well with Ginny. That's good. I mean you are technically related," he said with a quiet chuckle. Hermione gave him an infuriated glare.
"Yes, we are still on friendly terms. Or do you actually remember what the word 'friendly' means," she snarled, putting great emphasis on the word. "Staying in contact, being there at your best friends wedding, the great times, the horrible times. But no...you had to disappear. You may have come back to the wizarding world but you didn't come back to us."
Harry leaped up from his chair in frustration, leaving the chair to rotate desolately. He had no intention of hearing any more of this today. All the bad things and the mistakes he had made being thrown in his face. But Hermione continued, aware that her words were having an impact. "I understood why you left, ten years ago. But I could not comprehend why you did not come back. I worried, I fretted and I looked everywhere for you. But you had vanished..."
"That was the point!" he roared at her, causing her to flinch. His emerald green eyes flashed with anger and once she regained herself, she returned his steely stare. "I didn't want to live in this ignorant world anymore. Wizards," he spat "they are so caught up in their magic that they can't see what good they can do with it. The majority of them can't even see past their own wands. Blinkered by parents, schoolteachers and then the Ministry. But the muggle world...it's just as bad if not worse. So I came back but I couldn't regain the life I had once had..."
"Did you even try?!" Hermione yelled desperately. "I saw you twice in the past decade. We were so close once. I could tell you anything. You knew me completely!! You were my...my rock." She snorted at how unoriginal and tacky it sounded, but it was true. She felt her throat clench and felt the usual feeling of being overwhelmed with emotion.
"You had a brilliant life," he said quietly. "When I came back...you had moved on. You had a husband, a job as a successful Healer, both of you were doing well in the world. I was so...fucked up. I couldn't tell up from down, black from white. You didn't need that. You didn't need another hindrance."
Tears formed in the corner of her already red eyes. His words soothed her and tore her apart. Her hands were trembling. She wiped at the salty tears and turned her head so he would not notice. That action was a blunt sign of how much things had changed. When she was younger, she went to him for comfort, for solace. Now she feared to let him see her vulnerability.
"I didn't want to hurt you anymore," Harry muttered, before slowly grabbing the sheets of paper and walking out the door. It clicked ominously behind him, making her sniff as she released more tears. If only he knew the truth.
******************************************************
He stormed heatedly down the stone gravelled driveway, ripped open the door to his Mazda MX-5 and threw himself into the low leather seat. Because of the overpoweringly heavy heat that the summer had conjured up, he had the roof packed away and let the wind swipe and unsettle his hair.
The cool breeze calmed him down slightly but his mind was still racing. He was still transfixed by her. Riveted by her every movement. He braked abruptly at a set of red traffic lights sending him forward against his seatbelt. An infuriated driver behind him pounded his horn annoyingly. Noticing this, he raised a hand in an attempt at a brave apology. The driver behind him thankfully ceased the horn blowing and retreated into silence.
Harry caught a glimpse of himself in the rear-view mirror. Hermione was right…he had changed. Drastically he thought. He removed his stylish pair of dark Ray-Bans to gain a better view of himself. He had been gratefully relieved of his rounded geekafied spectacles just after he finished sixth year. He now sported a pair of chic metal specs which were only used for reading. Stubble adorned his chin and integrated happily with his side burns. Yep, he had changed.
The sound of a blasting horn startled him from his musings and he quickly realised that the lights were green. He slammed his foot down and the wonderful acceleration of his Mazda brought a cheeky grin to his face. He turned onto the motorway after rounding a roundabout and started weaving in and out of the slower cars trundling down the road.
But still he could not keep his thoughts off Hermione. He rammed the radio on aggressively and soon he was listening to a song entitled Chasing Cars by Snow Patrol. Pulling sharply off the crammed motorway he followed a ribbon of newly tarred road until he found himself outside an enormous apartment complex. He waited for the towering gates to open then drove in and parked his car. Getting out and slamming his car door, he strode into the building and stepped into the empty elevator. Jamming the lighted buttons he waited patiently until the doors parted again and he reached the fourth floor.
As he entered his dark apartment, he switched on a green desk lamp. His apartment was not very furnished. A leather brown couch sat opposite the wide screen television he had bought himself over a year ago. A computer desk held his sleek laptop and also his unused telephone. He kept a mobile phone for no apparent reason; Gringotts goblins were a race who denounced any sort of muggle technology. He had few muggle friends of which none knew he was a powerful wizard. He was lonely, there was no denying it.
He had had four weak relationships since returning to the wizarding world, each resulting in the female partner leaving him happily. From what he could gather he was too quiet and never told anybody how he was feeling nor did he show his feelings. This was apparently important in a lasting relationship and well outside of Harry's abilities. If he could be proud of one thing though, Harry had sufficient evidence to say that he was fantastic in bed. That was probably the reason his relationships lasted as long as they did, his longest being three months.
He threw his long trench coat over the back of his couch, it was too warm to have worn it at all today but he was used to it. After placing his suit jacket on the back of his computer chair and turning on the television, he heard a sharp knock on his door. Loosening his tie and unbuttoning the top of his shirt he opened the door, expecting to see either his decrepit neighbour or his stern landlady, who forcibly reminded him of Professor McGonagall.
"You're a dangerous driver," she admonished, folding her arms. His mouth dropped open and he let the surprise flood him for all of three seconds before closing it.
"What are you doing here, Hermione?" he asked heatedly.
"I do not know where you got your information but…it's wrong," she said, before turning to leave. He feverishly grabbed her elbow and turned her around to face him. It had been almost ten years since he had touched her or had any physical contact with her. "What do you mean?"
She glanced at his strong hand on her elbow and then moved her gaze to his tired but alert face. "You…you're just wrong about…about my marriage," she stammered, closing her eyes and dropping her head.
Harry could not say that he was joyful at the news nor was he entirely surprised. He could not be happy if she was suffering. He had absolutely no idea what to say to someone whose marriage had seemingly hit the rocks. He then decided to do something which he knew would change his life. He would not be her judge or a member of her past. He would be her friend because when it came to it he had always been her friend, even when he loved her more than that, even when he saved the world for her.
He increased the pressure on her elbow and pulled her into a tight embrace. She did not hesitate if anything she welcomed it. Her tearstained face was buried into his shirt, her arms wrapped firmly around him. He ran a comforting hand up and down her back consolingly and closed his eyes at the scent from her hair.
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