Bearings
Disclaimer/Author's notes: JK Rowling owns Harry Potter. Normally, flashbacks are in italics, but Portkey is having formatting issues, so now dates indicate the appropriate segment. Sorry about the entire chapter being in italics. Now, I present Harry & Hermione, without further ado.
And being apart ain't easy
On this love affair
Two strangers learn to fall in love again
I get the joy
Of rediscovering you
Journey
Faithfully
Chapter Three: Reunion, Part I
May 4th, 2002
"What the fuck?"
Similar sentiments were grumbled around the lecture hall, but the professor either took no heed or had not heard them. Harry was currently attending the final lecture for his Management class, and his professor had just told them all that a final project was due in a week's time, during their scheduled final exam.
Harry bit his tongue, wanting to express something equally as profane as what he'd heard behind him, but he was sitting in the front row, and he really did not need to get on his professor's bad side a week before he graduated. However, he was already thinking about how busy he was going to be, and now to have another project piled on to his plate…
The baseball team was currently in the playoffs, he had to study for finals in all of his classes, there were two graduation rehearsals coming up, and all of that didn't even include the fact that he was still unsure of where he was going after graduation.
"The topic of your project is your choice, as long as it is relevant to our curriculum. The format is also your choice, but it must be presentable in front of this class and within five minutes, as well. Each and every individual will be presenting during the final exam period. There will be no exceptions, and you will stand down here as I am now."
His professor, one Dr. Jason Gerard, was the most uptight human being Harry had ever met. His only rival in that category was Minerva, and Harry thought he had her by a nose. The older man was small, and he glared up at the class over his spectacles. Some person behind Harry must have raised their hand, because Gerard indicated for him or her to speak.
"Professor, what are we supposed to be proving with this presentation?" The voice was female, and Harry slid down in his seat a bit. The particular girl that was speaking was highly annoying; she seemed oblivious to the fact that most of her questions pissed the hell out of Gerard.
"Proving, Anna?"
"Yes, what should we be focusing on here?"
Gerard looked down for a moment, and Harry could tell that he was trying not to lose his patience. Even Harry, as little as he actually listened during lectures, knew that the man had just spent the last ten minutes going over the assignment. When he looked up, the only indication of his consternation was a small twitch under his left eye.
"You should be focusing on passing my class," he said. "I want you to prove to me that you have learned something about leadership. I need to see that you can handle running a business."
"Ok, but-" the girl, Anna, started to say, only to be cut off by Gerard.
"No buts. You are all seniors, on the cusp on earning a four-year degree from one of the most respected institutions of higher learning in the world. If you cannot figure out for yourselves how to go about this assignment, then perhaps you should rethink your goals." Silence reigned for a few moments after that, and Gerard turned his back on the class.
There was a clamor of commotion as people packed up their things, stood, and hurried for the door. The lecture was over, by the clock, and no one wanted to stay any longer. Harry sighed as he pulled a strap of his pack over one shoulder and started for the door. He now had a laundry list of things to do during the next week, so he might as well get started as soon as he could. As he exited the building into the bright sunlight, corralled toward the quad by the escaping members of his class, he spotted two familiar people sitting on a nearby bench. He stopped and let the people flow around him.
"Oi! Lovebirds!" he called out, and grinned as John and Erin looked in his direction. They waved him over, and he left the sidewalk, trekking across the grass, to meet them. John had been incredibly curious as to how Harry's night with Erin-now almost two months prior-had gone, and Harry had eventually been forced to introduce them to each other.
It would be an understatement to say they hit it off, because John and Erin were officially dating the next day. They apparently made each other very happy; Harry had given John a rough sketch of what had happened after he and Erin had left the bar, and had made it clear that Harry wouldn't approve if the taller man exploited the brunette's reputation. In an uncharacteristic bout of seriousness, John had agreed with Harry, perhaps demonstrating to Harry how much they actually cared for each other.
Regardless, he knew his two friends, one older and one recent, were happy, so he was happy for them. He just didn't want to see them snogging in public, which was what they had been doing.
"Yo, Harry!" John said, standing up and clapping Harry on the back. Erin nodded to him; she was wearing denim shorts and light tank top.
"Hullo, you two," he said, grinning still.
"Something funny?" Erin asked, demurely.
"No, `cept the whole world seems to be your audience."
Erin and John both shrugged, then looked at each other, and finally burst out laughing. Harry looked back and forth between them for a moment.
"Ok, it's official," he said.
"What is?" they both asked, at more or less the same time.
"You two are spending far too much time together. You talk at the same time and do the same things."
John nudged Erin. "Harry's jealous, I think," he stage-whispered, conspiratorially.
"Of what? You?" Harry asked, laughing.
"Sure," John replied, easily.
"What do you have that I would possibly be jealous of?" Erin put her hands on her hips. "No offense Erin, of course," Harry added, still trying to contain his smile.
"My good looks?" John asked, preening a bit.
"Oh, sod off. Back to this, are you? One would think you're insecure about your good looks, with how much you talk about them."
"I dunno, I rather like them," Erin said, leaning against John and stretching. John waggled his eyebrows at Harry.
"Ok, ok, enough! I don't want to see this!"
"Aw, poor Harry…" John returned.
"No, really, I do have to get going though. This week is going to be hell," Harry replied.
Erin groaned. "Tell me about it. Damn finals…"
"Yeah, those plus playoffs and this project I was just assigned," Harry grumped.
"Gerard gave a fucking project? During finals week?" John asked.
Harry nodded. "Yeah…"
"Well, that sucks."
Harry nodded again. "Yes it does. And now I have to be going. Gonna get started on this shite while I actually have some time."
"Alright, man, catch you later. We should go to the gym later, loosen up a bit for tomorrow's game."
"Sure, just come by my room," Harry said. He leaned forward and kissed Erin on the cheek, winked at John, and turned away.
"Watch it, Potter," John called out, to which Harry just flipped him the bird over his shoulder. He adjusted the pack on his back and quickened his step a bit. It was quite hot out, and he was looking forward to the air-conditioned apartments. He had to cross most of campus to get there, though, so it was another ten minutes before he entered the cool lobby. He was sweating a bit, but he held off on the shower, because he knew he'd be going to the gym later. In a rare fit of magic, he waved a hand over himself and sighed as the Refreshing Charm vanished the sweat and aired out his clothing.
There were probably less than a hundred instances in the past year that he had done magic, but he was unconcerned. There was just no need to do very much of it here, and in a way he had proven to himself that he didn't need to rely on it. It was almost empowering to realize that while magic was nice, it wasn't necessary. He thought many magical people could perhaps learn a thing or two from that, but he was no crusader. It was just a personal observation.
He entered his room and started in on his project. Time passed rather quickly and he was very productive, so it was a fast three hours and one-fourth of his project later that a knock came on his door.
"Yeah?"
"Yo, you ready to go work out?" John's familiar voice came.
Harry rolled his neck, hearing the faint popping noises as the tendons and ligaments realigned themselves. He took a deep breath and pushed back from his desk.
"Sure, give me a minute," he replied.
Harry threw on some exercise clothes, turned off his desk lamp, and grabbed his keys. When he opened the door, he saw that John was similarly dressed.
"What did you have in mind?" Harry asked, closing and locking the door.
"Eh…maybe a few laps around the track, get the blood flowing. I was thinking about getting some lifting in, too, though not too much, since I'm starting tomorrow."
Harry nodded. "Sounds like a plan. I might stay a little longer; I'm probably gonna do an ab workout, as well."
"Ok," John said, as they stepped from the elevator into the lobby. As they exited the building, Harry noticed that the afternoon was moving slowly toward evening. The light was a little softer and the shadows a little longer.
"Why don't we jog over to the track?" Harry asked.
"Sure," John replied, and started out. Harry followed and the two of them strode side-by-side along the sidewalk, in the direction of the athletic complex. They passed many people along the way that greeted them in some way or another, and ever the gentlemen, they responded in kind.
"Lot of people out right now," Harry commented, maneuvering through a particularly busy stretch of sidewalk.
"Well, can't ask for a nicer day, really," John replied, huffing just slightly. "It's not too hot yet, and there's no chill."
"Perfect weather," Harry said.
"Yeah. Unfortunately, it's supposed to rain tomorrow, from what I hear."
"For the game?" Harry asked.
"I guess so," John responded.
"Damn," Harry responded, slowing to a stop in front of the entrance to the track.
"Playing in the rain can be fun."
"Just don't get too distracted by all the wet t-shirts in the stands," Harry laughed, entering the track and field complex.
"Ha ha, Potter," John replied, though he was chuckling.
"What? We need you focused if we're gonna win tomorrow."
"Yes, I know, you don't have to remind me. As for all the wet t-shirts…well, there's always after the game."
Harry rolled his eyes. His friend truly was impossible. They set out at a mild run around the track, and their chatter fell off. Harry had a lot on his mind, chief of which was whether or not he was going to return to Britain or stay in America. At this point, and the point was getting closer and closer to when he would have to make a decision every day that passed, he really had no idea.
The idea of playing in the majors was not all that alluring to him, because he really had no concept of the fame and fortune it would probably bring. He understood what being in the spotlight was, because he'd experienced that in Britain, but this was an entirely different notion. On the other hand, he really did enjoy baseball, and it seemed like a sure bet, at least from what his coach had said. It would save him the trouble of figuring things out, at least temporarily…
But he was getting ahead of himself. For the next few days, at least, he had the project and studying for his finals to worry about; then, when all of those things had passed, he would think seriously about what to do after graduation. He just wanted to enjoy what little time he had left here as much as he could.
The two men ran two miles-eight laps-and then went to the athletic building itself. They spotted each other as they did some easy bench-pressing, and then wandered off to do some more individual exercises, like curling. After about a half hour, John came back over to Harry.
"Alright, I'm all set," he said. Harry, who was doing some tricep curls with twenty-kilo free weights, nodded.
"See you later then?"
"Probably. Not sure what I'm doing tonight. Erin said she had a lot of work to do, so I may actually try to get some of my own done."
"Mm hmm. Sure," Harry intoned.
"Get your mind out of the gutter, Potter," John retorted.
Harry just raised an eyebrow. "My mind?"
John smiled, shook his head, and turned away. Harry watched him go briefly, and then returned to his exercises. After completing his arms and chest, he went over to a mat, and started working on his abs. He did that for a good twenty minutes before finally sitting up and stopping; sweat dripped from and he was a bit flushed, but he felt good. He absentmindedly wished Hogwarts had had some sort of gym, but that thought faded as he toweled himself off and left the workout area. As he stepped outside, a brief chill passed over him, and he rubbed his arms. The sweaty tank top, even in the slightly balmy late-spring evening, was not exactly very warm. The sun had progressed westward, and the shadows were a little a longer, the light a little less.
He started strolling back toward his apartments, looking forward to the shower he would take when he got there. The throng of people from earlier, those that had been out and about, was considerably lessened now, and he had no trouble moving along the sidewalk without really paying attention.
Harry thought that he would work on his project for the rest of the night, possibly get most or all of it done, and then focus on studying for the next few days. He hadn't had to fish for ideas, since he had done his fair share of leading before, so it was just a matter of making sure he had enough content and that it looked good enough.
His thoughts had carried him more than halfway back, and he glanced up to see exactly where he was. After getting his bearings once again, he was about to wander back off into his thoughts, but something caught his eye-or rather, someone.
Dark denim shorts, a white tee, a svelte figure, and brown hair, surely it was Erin. That was odd, though, considering John had told him she was holed up doing work for the night.
"Oi, Erin," Harry called out, and jogged to catch up to her. She was walking away from him, and she did not turn at his voice. She hadn't heard him, apparently. And that was when he noticed her stopping by a taxi, and leaning into the open passenger door. Harry admired the view for a moment, and then reminded himself that John was the only one who should be doing that. He smirked at that thought.
"Erin," he called again, as he drew nearer. She started to back away from the car, possibly to look at him, but something held her gaze. Harry slowed as he neared, slightly out of breath, and stopped about ten feet away. Her head was still turned, but he knew something was off.
"Erin?" he asked. She paused again, and then leaned back out of the car, turning her face toward him. Harry's eyes went wide and his skin broke out in goose bumps…
----------
January 1998
…from the ridiculous wind that was bone-chillingly cold. Harry surveyed the yard and the surrounding area one last time, and then turned back toward the small abandoned house. The sky was dark and cloudy, so the stars were not even out to give light. That was not altogether a bad thing, though, since they were trying to attract as little attention as possible. The wind gusted again, and for the thirtieth time that night he wished he had brought along a heavier coat. He blew on his hands as he went up the steps, and then carefully and quietly entered the house through the slightly leaning door. It was quite late-past three in the morning-and he didn't want to wake anyone up.
He picked a quilt off a chair by the door, small and ratty though it was, and wrapped it around his frame. The panes rattled in their slots as another violent gust hit the house, and Harry could feel the draft tease his face, but it was receding from his mind. His first priority at the moment was to make sure the house was secure, or at least as secure as it could be.
The six of them-himself, Hermione, Ginny, Luna, Ron, and Neville-were currently on a hunt for the second to last horcrux. They were cavorting around Northern Scotland, and had been for two days now, tracking its last known whereabouts through the wintry wonderland. This latitude in the middle of January was brutal, and all the more so because they were now resting upon the highlands, continually slammed by wind and snow and Merlin knew what else.
He paused in the middle of the living room, looking at Hermione's relaxed form spread out on the couch. She had wrapped herself tightly in another blanket, and was deep in sleep. Her chest rose and fell slowly, and small puffs of air shot from her half-parted lips. Harry felt a pang of guilt at that; that his friends would have to sleep this night cold because of this trek they were on, but quickly squashed it. They were here, with him, because they wanted to be, not because he had asked them or had wanted them.
He hadn't wanted them at first, and would have been perfectly content to just leave them behind at Hogwarts, but in the end he was glad that they had all chosen to come along. He doubted that he could have done all of this by himself, especially the research side of it, and the fact that he had good enough friends to follow him to this godforsaken tundra warmed him in a way the blanket couldn't.
His eyes roamed over the rest of the room for a moment, and then he moved into the dining area, content that everything was as it should be. The same with this room…and he moved on, into the hall that led to the small house's other rooms. It was somewhat of a blessing that they had found this abandoned abode, because the prospect of sleeping outside in that bitter wind was dire. Magic could provide some comfort, but when the wind chills dropped below -30C, it eroded quickly.
The first door he reached was partly open, and he stuck his head in. Luna occupied the sole bed in the room, and she had wrapped herself much the same way Hermione had. She was soundly sleeping, and Harry's eyes tracked to another form on the floor, one that could only be Ron's. If it struck him as slightly odd that these two had decided to room together, and not Luna and Ginny, he barely gave it any thought. His mind was on other things. Once he was satisfied that all appeared normal here, too, he moved on.
The next room was empty, of everything, and he barely glanced at it. It was just a wooden square really, because it had no furnishings. The third room was similarly occupied as the first had been, but this time Ginny replaced Luna and Neville replaced Ron. Ginny was curled up on one side of the bed, in a more or less fetal position, asleep. Neville was in an armchair in the corner of the room, also asleep. His head had lolled to the side; Harry considered waking him for he knew the cramp Neville would have in his neck in the morning, but decided against it. He looked too peaceful to bother.
Harry left, wandered to the end of the hall, making sure nothing else seemed out of place, and then headed back toward the kitchen/dining room. He stuck his head into the living room briefly to make sure Hermione was still comfortably asleep on the couch. She was.
He searched around in the cupboards for a few moments, being as silent as he possible could, and eventually found a teakettle. After quickly retrieving some snow from outside, he set it on the stove, and lit it. He cast a small yet powerful silencing charm over the whole thing, so that the whistle wouldn't alarm or awaken anyone. And then he waited. He listened to wind howl through the eaves and the grains of snow brush against the windows, melancholy sounds for sure. He supposed this was one of the most desolate places on the planet, and if not, it definitely seemed like it at this odd hour when everyone else was asleep.
He got up and poured the boiling water into a cup, placing a tea packet into it that he had found on the counter. He didn't know how old it was, but he didn't think tea could go bad. After it had diffused properly, he sipped, and was rewarded with real warmth, this time, spreading through him. He entered the living room, wrapping the quilt tighter around himself, and sat down in a beaten recliner that was across from where Hermione was sleeping. From his position, he could see out into the night, and he could watch Hermione if he so chose. He found himself doing that more than looking outside, as he slowly sipped the warm liquid.
As the tea was dwindling, something must have woken Hermione, because she stirred slightly and opened her eyes. The first thing she saw was his gaze on her. She smiled softly but did not sit up.
"What is it?" she asked, softly.
Harry set the now-empty cup on the side table. "Hmm?" he asked, though it was barely audible.
Hermione cocked her head at him. "Why are you still up?"
"I'm keeping watch," Harry responded, now raising his voice to little more than a whisper.
"Why?" she asked, propping herself up on one elbow. Her hair fell over her shoulder, across her chest.
"Because someone needs to," Harry said. "You all need your sleep, so I decided to."
Hermione smiled again, though Harry wasn't sure if it was at him. Her eyes were unfocused, for the moment, and she seemed to be thinking of something. Soon, her gaze returned to him.
"You need to sleep too, Harry," she said.
"I know, but-"
"We have a long day tomorrow, hopefully the final one in this search," she continued.
"So we're that close?"
"I think so, yes," she said, frowning slightly. "All the clues say yes, and all of the research we've all done indicate the same thing: it's not far."
Harry sighed and relaxed into his chair. "That's a relief. I guess being at Hogwarts all these years, I've never realized how cruel the environment actually is up here."
"What do you mean?"
"Oh, just that all of you have spent the last two days freezing and hungry, not to mention tired. A pretty terrible combination," Harry answered.
"We're here because we want to be," Hermione said, echoing his earlier thoughts.
"Yes, yes, I know, but I'm sure you'd much rather be warm and safe in your bed at Hogwarts."
"Safe? How would I be safe there, Harry, if you were out here by yourself?"
"I'm not following," Harry returned.
"You know you're the only defense against Voldemort. If you were away from the school, like you are now, no one there is truly safe," she replied. Her arm must have gotten tired, because she turned over onto her stomach, laying her head sideways onto the couch, so she could look at him still.
"You know what I meant. Tired, cold, hungry…a triple threat, if there ever was one."
"I wouldn't want to be anywhere else," Hermione responded slowly, after a few moments.
Harry had no answer to this, and merely sat there, looking at her. They stared at each other for a few seconds, with nothing but the wind breaking the silence.
"What are you thinking?" Hermione eventually asked.
"That I don't want the rest of you involved, but that I couldn't imagine it without you." She rewarded him with another smile.
"That's sweet, Harry. I'm glad you're finally able to see that nothing you say could make me stay behind."
"Oh, I've known that for a long time, Hermione," smiling warmly at her. He was a little tired, at the moment, but it felt good to smile like that.
"Why don't you go back to sleep," he said, motioning with his hand for her to get settled back in.
She shook her head slowly, still smiling. "If you're going to be `watching' all night, so am I."
Harry sighed. "Hermione…"
"What?"
"You need your sleep."
"So do you."
"I know, and we've been over this already," Harry replied. "Someone has to do it, and it might as well be me."
"Oh, come on, Harry. You think anyone's going to bother us in this weather? This far out in the middle of nowhere?"
"That's the kind of complacency that gets people killed," he said.
Hermione pursed her lips. "It's not complacency out here, Harry. It's reality."
"Well, Voldemort had to have come out here at least once to do his business," Harry pointed out, smugly thinking he had won the argument. He should have remembered this was Hermione Granger he was talking to.
"Twenty years ago, or more…" she said. "And besides, as far as we know, he doesn't have a clue we've been eliminating his horcruxes. At this point, I'd say it's a safe bet we're alone out here on this cold, frozen plateau."
Harry, still skeptical, shrugged. "I'm not going to argue with you anymore. I'll feel better knowing that I'm doing my best to protect all of you."
"And I'll feel better knowing you're not nodding off when we might actually need you to protect us tomorrow," Hermione retorted, her voice rising a little.
"Hermione, shh, don't get so worked up," Harry placated. In an attempt to mollify her, he conceded the point. "And alright, I'll just kip out right here, nothing to worry about," he finished, closing his eyes. He had hoped that it would end the conversation, but again, he should have known better.
"Nonsense," Hermione stated, and he heard some rustling noises. He opened his eyes and saw her moving around, pressing her back against the back of the couch. "You'll sleep right here," she asserted, looking him in the eyes and patting the space in front of her.
"Er…" Harry intoned. "I can sleep perfectly well in this chair."
"I won't bite, and you won't get much rest sitting up like that," she said, and continued staring him in the eyes, as if daring him to disagree. They held each other's gazes again for a few moments, and Harry opened his mouth to resist, but then he deflated. What good did arguing with Hermione ever bring about? Slowly, reluctantly, he got up, unwrapping the quilt.
Hermione pressed her back further against the couch, and Harry stood there, staring down at her for a few seconds. This was a Hermione he had never really seen: sleep-tousled, horizontal, and openly inviting him to lay down with her. His teenage brain was trying to tell him things he didn't want to hear, so he ended any debate by gingerly lying down next to her.
Hermione threw the blanket she had been covered with over Harry as well, and he did the same thing with the quilt he had been holding. As he settled into the slightly lumpy cushions of the couch, facing outward, he felt Hermione move a little and press herself into his back. It was surprisingly warm, under the blankets with Hermione, and Harry found the drowsiness hard to fight off. At first, he had told himself that he would watch from this position, but now he knew that was impossible.
He was just about to get up, and just plainly tell Hermione that he was going to watch, whether she liked it or not, but he then felt a thin arm attached to a small hand snake up his side and over his body, coming to rest across his chest. It then tightened slightly, and if he wanted to move, he'd have to move her arm. He debated whether or not he should do that, but before he could reach a decision, Hermione's breathing had evened out. He was stuck here now-there was no way he would wake her again.
Sighing, burrowing a little deeper into the couch and Hermione's warm body, he closed his…
----------
May 4th, 2002
…eyes against the absurdly vivid and totally unexpected recall, and when he opened them, the girl had just finished turning toward him. He couldn't believe his eyes.
"Hermione?"
The girl-surely it was Hermione, had to be, even though if it was, she had undergone several changes since he'd last seen her-raised her eyebrows at him, smirking slightly. Did Hermione smirk?
"Well if it isn't Harry Potter," she remarked, eyeing him up down.
"Hermione?" was all he could manage, again.
"I see he hasn't changed much," she said, laughing, and moving to embrace him. Any doubt he had held over whether or not this really was Hermione ended then, as the familiar sensation of her body against his in one of her patented hugs overtook him. He fought recall again, and returned the embrace. When they pulled apart, he was smiling.
"What are you doing here?" he asked. She moved toward the trunk of the cab.
"Oh, you know…visiting," she said, and opened the trunk. She removed her bags and set them on the sidewalk, nodding to the cabbie. After she had closed the trunk, he drove off.
"Visiting? Just like that?" he asked, picking up one of her bags. She pursed her lips at him for a moment, briefly drawing his attention to her very lightly made up face, and then picked up the other bag. She swept a few strands of her hair-straightened and sleek-away from her face, and Harry could see how he had mistaken her for Erin. They had similar figures, almost exact figures, actually…they were dressed similarly, Harry noted, looking for a second at Hermione's long legs…and they were both very beautiful…
"Sure, why not?" she asked him, her face breaking into a smile once again.
"Um…ok," he said, trying to digest this new information and turn his mind around the visible changes in Hermione. Maybe an inch taller, possibly ten pounds lighter, and looking much more like a grown, adult woman than he could remember, she looked very good. Very good indeed.
"Four yeas of uni and you're still as articulate as ever," she responded.
That brought Harry out of his thoughts. "That's me," he said, and then cocked his head at her. "Uh, where did you plan on staying for this `visit'?" he asked, motioning toward the luggage he was holding.
She smiled slightly at him. "With you, of course."
Harry's eyebrows shot up at this. "With me? My room is a single," he informed her.
"Are we not magical?" Hermione asked him.
He chuckled. "Of course we are, but no one else around here is. If they walked into the room and saw magical changes, the universe would surely end."
"Mm hmm," Hermione intoned, looking around her. The sun glinted off her hair. "You think I can't be discreet about it?" she asked, meeting his eyes once again. The black speckles in her irises interested him for a moment, but then he shrugged.
"Well whatever," he half-sighed, half-laughed. This was all so unexpected; he didn't know what to think, really. Hermione's presence wasn't going to make any of the decisions he had to make any easier. It would have been nice if she had told him she was coming-but then his brain randomly remembered the letter she had sent, probably still under the refuse on his desk. The letter he had never responded to. The letter he had ignored.
Well, now he felt like a git. "Oh, hey, about that letter you sent-"
"Yeah, I was wondering about that," Hermione interrupted him. "Why did you never write back?"
"I forgot," Harry replied, sheepishly. The way Hermione was currently glaring at him brought flashbacks of similar looks from their formative years.
"Forgot?" Hermione raised an eyebrow. "How wonderful," she said, dryly. "It's nice to know that I'm so important to you," she finished. Her stance told Harry she was waiting for some response, and for his sake, he knew it had better be a good one. He couldn't help the smile that spread across his face, though, because more than anything else, it felt good-immeasurably good-to have the Hermione he remembered standing before him. He supposed the saying `absence only makes the heart grow fonder' had some merit.
"What are you smiling at, Potter?" she questioned. Her use of his surname reminded him of John, and he started laughing.
After it settled, he replied, "Nothing, Hermione. Just that it's good to see you." She smiled.
"And it's great to see you," she said, adjusting her grip on the bag. "Now, where do you live?"
"I dunno…" Harry started. "Not sure if it's good to take a girl-pardon me, woman-back to my room after having just met her." Oh, he just couldn't resist.
"`Having just met' me is a relative term, you know. We've known each other since we were eleven," she stated, though she was still smiling.
"Yes we have," Harry said, and started moving in the direction of his building. She fell in beside him.
"So, how have you been?" Harry asked, but then another question occurred to him. "You don't have work or anything?"
"More than one question at a time? Sounding like me," she shot back. "But, in answer to your first, fine. Life's been a bit crazy lately, but that should calm down a bit, since I was just promoted."
"Promoted?"
"Yeah, I'm now the head of the Muggle Liaisons division at the Ministry," she said, and he detected a seemingly deserved note of pride in her voice.
"Wow, congratulations," Harry said, happy for her. He couldn't fathom ever working for the Ministry, but she appeared to be doing well.
"Thanks. And as for your other question, Arthur gave me some time off. A month, in fact."
"A month? Why would he do that?" Harry queried.
"Er…well to be honest, I've been burying myself in my job lately. Hoping for that promotion, you know, things like that," she replied. He could tell there was something she was leaving out, but he did not press her. He flexed his arm and then shifted the bag to his other hand, since his one arm was getting tired.
"Merlin, Hermione, what do you have in here?" he asked.
"Knickers, bras, stilettos…you know, things like that," she said. He looked over at her, saw that she was smiling, and shook his head.
"Where is Hermione and what have you done with her?" he asked.
"Standing right here, and grew up, I guess," she replied.
Harry leered at her, smirking as he did so. "I can see that," he replied, sweeping his eyes over her figure. Two could play at that game.
"Easy Harry, wouldn't want you spouting off out here on the pavement," she came back. That shut him up, though he was having a hard time keeping the raucous laughter from escaping his closed mouth. He couldn't ever remember Hermione joking about these things, but then again, the last time he'd seen Hermione face to face was eighteen months previous. In those eighteen months, she had seemingly made the transition into adulthood. He wondered if the perspective from her end was the same about him.
"And yourself?" she asked after a brief silence. "How have you been?"
"Fine," he said. "Wonderful, really. Just bloody busy. I have a project to finish up, a playoff game tomorrow, and then finals to study for. After that, graduation." He left out what was plaguing him, which was what he would be doing after graduation.
"Ah…well since I'm going to be here until graduation-"
"That long, huh?" Harry asked, though he really didn't care. "I might have to start charging rent."
"I wonder how you would look transfigured into a fluffy white bunny," Hermione commented, almost offhand.
"Oooookaaay, nevermind then. I don't need to test your magical prowess; I've seen what you can do," he replied.
"Yes…I know you have. Anyways, as I was saying, since I'm going to be here for a little while, perhaps you would like some help on whatever you have to do?"
Harry looked incredulously at her. "You're on holiday and you want to do more work? What's wrong with you, woman?"
"Well, since-you know, you just reminded me of Ron, for a moment," she stated. Harry just continued to stare at her, absently noting they were nearing his building. "Regardless, I'm your guest, the least I can do is help you out a bit," she said, a smile tugging the corner of her lips. Lips that were slightly rouged, Harry noticed. Slightly parted as well, with just the hint of a pink tongue at one of the corners.
He cut his train of thought off abruptly. "More like roommate, yeah?" he asked.
"I guess so," Hermione responded. They passed into the shadow of the tall building. Harry could actually feel the change in temperature from sunlight to shade. Hermione must have as well, because she drew her arms against her body, pushing her bosom out a bit-
"Damn it," Harry said, vocalizing his annoyance at his own brain. Hermione just looked at him, stopping and quirking an eyebrow.
"Nothing, nevermind," Harry said, quickly, and started moving once again. He knew the uni would give him no trouble about having a visitor, since they almost always turned a blind eye to that sort of thing, and because he was Harry Shortstop Potter, so he waltzed through the lobby with Hermione in tow without a glance toward the desk. She followed him wordlessly.
"Pretty posh," she remarked, once they had gotten into the elevator.
"Yeah, the whole campus is. Much of it's been renovated since I've been here. Some of the interiors are now really beautiful," Harry said, thinking of the practical yet luxurious dining hall.
"Well, considering its endowment, I'd expect it to be," she said, as the elevator dinged his floor.
"Endowment?" Harry asked, following Hermione from the elevator and motioning her toward his room.
"You've been here four years and you don't know what an endowment is?" she asked. Harry shook his head, a tiny bit annoyed at the condescending tone in her voice. It might have just been his imagination, though, and he let it pass.
"It's the annual amount of income they receive through gifts," she said.
"Sure, ok," Harry responded, stopping outside of his door. He set down the bag, fished his keys out of his pocket, and unlocked the door. His room was fairly clean, except for his desk, so he had no reason to feel self-conscious when Hermione's eyes swept over it, but he was anyway. He didn't know why.
"Nice, Harry. Won't even need magic," she said, smiling at him. "Well ok, maybe a little." She crossed the threshold, motioned him to do the same, and set down her bag. He picked up the bag and followed, and then closed the door as she motioned for him to do that as well.
One side of his room was relatively bare, and she scrutinized it for a moment. He had a pretty good idea of what she was about to do, but stood back and watched silently. She looked at his bed for a moment, then back toward the other side of the room, and then waved her hand. The few objects there placed themselves on Harry's desk, albeit neatly, and she drew her hand across her body. Palm outward. It glowed briefly, and then a bed very similar to Harry's own faded into view.
Hermione's magical handiwork had always fascinated Harry, and he found it no different now. Where Harry was the brute force of the trio, magically, Hermione was the most measured and accurate. She knew more spells than he did and could execute them more properly, but when they dueled, Harry always won. Her shields simply weren't powerful enough to protect against one of his hits, and he eventually did hit.
"I see you've learned much more wandless magic," Harry stated, remembering that magic of the wandless variety had once been very difficult for her. She hadn't ever been able to separate the act of doing magic from the wand.
Hermione nodded, turning toward him. "I rarely carry my wand with me these days," she said, indicating she had indeed mastered wandless casting. "What about you, where's your wand?" she asked.
"Oh, uh, you know? I have no idea," he said, and laughed at Hermione's look.
"You don't know where your wand is?"
The butt of a very obscene joke occurred to Harry, but he held back. He was sure Hermione wouldn't appreciate it, and he didn't even know where he'd heard it. Probably from John.
"No," he shrugged. "The very little magic that I do doesn't require a wand," he said, and she nodded, conceding the point.
"Still, for emergencies?"
"You think there would be magical emergencies around here?" he asked.
"No, I suppose not."
"Well, make yourself comfortable," Harry said. "I need to get out of these ruddy clothes and take a shower," he said, turning toward his closet.
"Sure, Harry," she replied, and he heard her zipping open one of the bags as he left the room.
----------
Hermione was in his room, just down the hall. That thought kept playing over and over in his mind as he dried himself off, having finished his refreshing shower. It was something that seemed so alien to him that he honestly did not know what to think. He felt ashamed that he had thought so little of her and the rest of his friends from Britain, especially now that she was here, but that wasn't something he would ever say to her.
Still…to have her here, to see her just show up like that, it was all a little bewildering. The thought had never entered his mind, not once, and it wouldn't have either. As he pulled his clothes on, though, he knew that it wasn't some grand delusion. She was actually here and it appeared that she would be staying with him for almost two weeks.
He didn't know how he felt about that. He hadn't seen her in such a long time, hadn't even thought about her really, that the perceptions he'd once had of her had faded. The bookish, bossy, know-it-all personality she'd once possessed and personified had washed out. He knew he was doing her an injustice, though. That personality he had just described was what people who didn't really know her were apt to say, but he really did know her.
Well, he knew her. Not so much anymore. That was a little depressing to him, but he pushed that aside. He knew that the traits many people saw in her were just her defense to a world that couldn't tolerate highly intelligent, driven people. It was known as `tall poppy syndrome', or TPS, as he'd learned in one of his business classes. With success came the envy of others, and with that envy came the insults and hurtful words Hermione had suffered through when she was younger, to an extent. Aristotle had likened it to sweeping a blade across a swath of poppies, cutting the heads off the tallest ones.
He had never suffered TPS, or anything like it, because he had always relied on Hermione, and from his older perspective, that was much clearer than it ever was. He doubted very much that he would have survived the seven years at Hogwarts without her, traced as far back as the incident with the Philosopher's Stone, even. That now seemed like a dream to him, the memory was so old, but he knew that her quick thinking had saved his and Ron's life. All that had come after, including his present healthy state of mind, was because of that day, so long ago.
Exiting the loo, his thoughts confirmed the fact that he had no bloody idea what to expect. Hermione had also always been somewhat of an enigma to him, especially during the last six months before he'd left for uni, and the fact that she had showed up here, unannounced, after so long solidified that feeling. He was happy that she was here, but he did not know what to expect.
In its simplest form, his confusion formed because of the distance, both physically and emotionally, that had separated them until twenty minutes ago. Some part of his subconscious acknowledged the fact that she had been an integral part of his life for so long, and when he had left, he had had to cope with that absence, but that voice was very small and easily pushed aside, as were thoughts that perhaps she had felt similarly. The dominant part of his brain was telling him that it was good see her, no matter the circumstances, and he listened to that, mostly.
The other thing that confused him, whether he would admit or not, was his initial reaction to Hermione. He had thought she was Erin, who Harry regarded as a gorgeous human being with a sexual nature. His thoughts had never, at least as far his dominant memories were concerned, strayed in that direction with Hermione, but there it was. She was beautiful, no matter how he termed it, and that was slightly shocking to him. She had never been `beautiful'; that moment at the Yule Ball had confirmed to him that she was indeed a girl that could be pretty, and there were later times that he'd acknowledged that, even verbally, but it had never been beauty.
If it hadn't been for his abrupt and jolting flashback, he wouldn't even be able to admit to himself that he'd ever thought of Hermione in that way, but he now knew that he had a very few times, albeit briefly and more as an intellectual `what if?' This Hermione, this woman that had showed up almost literally on his doorstep, was challenging that notion, and he didn't know how he felt about that.
Hence, the confusion.
As he neared his room, he heard two voices, one feminine and the other masculine, and noticed that the door was open. As he got closer, he saw John sitting on his bed, and assumed that it was Hermione he was talking to. When he arrived in the doorway, they both looked at him; Hermione had a smile on her face, and John just raised his eyebrows.
"I see you've met already," Harry said, hanging up his towel and stowing away his toiletries.
"Yes, we have," John said, and moved over so Harry could sit down as well.
"Good, then I don't have to introduce anyone," Harry replied.
"Hardly, Harry. This charming young man wouldn't tell me much about himself," Hermione replied.
John held up his hands. "I'm sorry that I couldn't resist asking questions of a beautiful lady such as yourself-"
"John," Harry warned, and something in Harry's voice must have told John that Hermione was not to be trifled with.
"Anyways, this is John Sanders, star pitcher and misogynist," Harry said, looking at John, daring him to disagree.
"Misogynist, huh? He seemed sweet enough…" Hermione chuckled.
"Oh, don't let him fool you," Harry replied.
"I feel as if I'm being misrepresented," John interjected. "I haven't been a misogynist for two months now. I believe that our good friend Erin has cured that," he said, in mock seriousness.
"Yes, well, you can believe what you want," Harry said, laughing as well. "And this `beautiful lady'," Harry said, quoting his friend, though he wouldn't disagree, "is none other than Hermione Granger, childhood friend and cohort in various mayhem."
"Mayhem? What kind of mayhem could you get into?" John asked her.
"Oh, you'd be surprised," Hermione responded, crossing her legs and leaning back. Her upper back rested against the wall behind her.
John looked at Harry. "Why didn't you ever tell me you had such nice friends?" he asked, and Harry caught the double meaning there. He shook his head ruefully at John.
"Because I knew you'd be too interested," Harry replied, happy that John had a solid relationship with Erin. He didn't know if he would have been able to deal with any advances toward Hermione, even though the feeling was odd. It's not as if Harry had to protect Hermione. She could handle herself very well. He had seen proof of that.
"Are all your friends just as charming?" Hermione asked Harry, a twinkle seemingly entering her chocolate eyes. It was a look Dumbledore would have given him.
"They're all more charming than this piece of meat," Harry said. John let out a bark of laughter.
"Don't flatter yourself, Potter!" he said. They both knew they were joking. They had a very easy rapport with each other. He didn't think he'd ever been truly mad at John.
"Harry couldn't flatter himself if he tried," Hermione said.
"Oh really? I'll have you know that I have top marks, am a star shortstop, and very good-looking, thank you very much," Harry said, as seriously as he could.
"Mm hmm. Now if only you were serious…" Hermione trailed off. John looked back and forth between Harry and Hermione for a few moments, and then burst into laughter. They both looked at him.
"Something the matter?" Harry asked.
"Yes," John said, through the laughs. "You two are," he finished.
"We are?" Harry inquired.
John stopped laughing, cocking an eyebrow. "I'd say so, but if you don't know why, I'm not telling!" he said and sprang to his feet. "Alright, time to get back to work." He extended a hand to Hermione. "Nice to meet you, Hermione. I'll have to get Erin up here soon, so she can meet you." Turning to Harry, he said, "Better watch her around the baseball team. They're like a pack of dogs," he said, lowly, so only Harry could hear. He then exited the room, leaving Harry and Hermione alone once again.
"What did he say to you?" Hermione asked.
"Just being his usual crude self," Harry responded.
"I see," Hermione said, and looked thoughtful. After a moment, she said, "Alright, time to see this project of yours." She stretched, thrusting her chest into the air, and Harry scratched his head, scolding himself for even bothering to notice that. This whole thing was going to be impossible.
"Sure," he said, and stood. They both moved to his desk, and Harry took his notes and what he'd completed from the top of the pile, and showed them to Hermione. They both sat back on his bed, and settled into some work. Harry could barely keep the smile off his face. This was so familiar, doing work like this with Hermione, her sharp insights refining his natural intelligence. This was so right.
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