Harry Potter and the End of the Line

XxForever31xX

Rating: R
Genres: Romance
Relationships: Harry & Hermione
Book: Harry & Hermione, Books 1 - 6
Published: 14/12/2006
Last Updated: 14/12/2006
Status: in_progress

Post HBP. Harry begins his journey to find and destroy the remaining horcruxes. Along the way he discovers the true meaning of friendship, and the beauty of what happens when that friendship turns into something even more magical.

Chapters

1. Chapter One

1. Chapter One

Harry Potter and the End of the Line

Chapter One

January 12, 2007

Author's Note: IMPORTANT—I've rewritten the first chapter. After several rereads, I didn't quite like the way I'd started things off. I reevaluated the plot, and I feel that this version of the chapter is much better. I've changed a few things that will eventually affect the plot, so please take the time to reread the chapter. It will be worth it, I promise!

Also: This story is intended for a mature audience, so please keep that in mind. This will evolve slowly, as I intend to stick to the canon as much as possible. I appreciate constructive criticism, but please do not flame me. If you ever want to contact me, please email me at XxForever31xX@gmail.com. Enjoy!

XXX

Even though it had been an important day for all of them in different ways, Ronald Weasley remembered the day of Dumbledore's funeral more clearly than either of his best friends. Harry Potter would remember it as the day he said goodbye to his mentor. Hermione Granger would remember it as the day she turned down someone she never thought she would. Ron would remember it as the day he saved the world.

Of course, he didn't know he was saving the world when it happened. In fact, Ron would not come to realize what a difference this day had made for a very long time. He would not yet understand that in a single instant he had changed the fate of the wizarding world. He would not yet realize that he was a hero in his own right.

He did remember Hermione Granger, however. He remembered how—for the first time ever—he understood something before she did.

The funeral had just ended, and both Harry and Ginny had disappeared. Harry had opted to go for a walk—no doubt to clear his head—and Ron noted that a few minutes later he was joined by the Minister of Magic, Rufus Scimgeour. Ginny's eyes had been bright with tears, but she smiled and waved off Ron's brotherly glance as she walked away.

Ron was content to stay where he was, his arms around Hermione's small figure. She had stopped shaking, but tears were still rolling freely down her face. Ron was fighting the impulse to reach up and wipe them away. He restrained himself with a single thought.

`It's finally going to happen,' Ron had thought. He and Hermione would finally be together. After six years of bickering and dancing around one another, it was finally their turn. Ron had expected to feel more elated, yet he did not. Something felt off.

“Ron,” Hermione had murmured, shifting out of his arms. Ron turned to look at her; she was even more beautiful than usual that day. “We can't do this. It can't happen.” Ron noticed that she was not meeting his gaze but rather looking just past him. That's the moment Ron realized—before Hermione even did—that she was in love with Harry Potter. Her gaze was not a determined avoidance of Ron's eyes, but rather an absentminded drift to where Harry stood with the Minister of Magic.

Her eyes shifted and she blinked a few times, as though trying to regain some form of consciousness. “Ron,” she said again, taking one of his hands and cupping it in both of hers. “I'm so sorry,” she said, her cinnamon gaze now burning into him. “I wanted this to happen for so long and now…” her gaze drifted back to Harry. She closed her eyes and shook her head. Ron understood. She had not yet admitted to herself her feelings for

Harry.

In that instant, Ron realized that the weight of the world was not only on Harry's shoulders, but also on his. He suddenly realized that Hermione would be able to help Harry most in the end. She would be able to help him in a way that Ron could not, but only if he let her go.

The weight of the world was very heavy.

Ron sighed inwardly, wishing he could hate Harry for this. He knew he could not. He knew Harry would never have asked for this. In that moment, Ron was wise beyond his years. He took a breath.

“It's alright, Hermione.” He pulled her into a hug. “It's a confusing time for all of us.” He backed away and held her at arms length. “I just want you to be happy,” he said, raising his eyes and locking gazes with her. “Whatever or whoever that may mean for you.”

“Thank you, Ron,” Hermione said, her eyes shining with fresh tears. “Thank you so much.”

`She's even beautiful with tears in her eyes…'

Ron's mind stopped at that. All they would ever be was friends.

Ron smiled. “Hey, what are friends for?”

XXX

It was a blistering ninety-four degree day and the sun was scorching everything it touched. Almost all of Privet Drive's residents had given up any hope of caring for their lawns and gardens and withdrawn into the cool shade of their homes.

The only person left outside was a teenaged boy with unruly black locks named Harry Potter. For four hours Harry had been outside, toiling in the yard. He'd trimmed the grass and then the hedges. He'd washed all the windows of Number Four. Now he was in the garden.

His shirt, long-since discarded, lay in a ball on the grass next to him. From time to time he would pick it up and use it to wipe the sweat off his brow as he pulled weeds from the flowerbeds.

A shadow fell across the patch to his left and he paused, leaning back on his haunches to turn and see who was behind him. Aunt Petunia stood behind him, clutching a glass. Her lips were pursed as she stretched her hand out to him, offering him the cup. “Take some water.”

Harry nodded and accepted the cup, bringing it to his mouth immediately. There was no ice in it, but he was still pleasantly surprised that his aunt would even bother to offer him water.

He drained the cup and stood to take it inside and wash it, as he usually did. Petunia, instead, snatched the cup from his hand. “You'll get the floors dirty.”

Uncle Vernon's voice boomed from within. “Has he finished the weeds yet, Petunia?”

“Nearly, Vernon.” She pursed her lips again. “Get on it, then,” she said, nodding at the flowers again.

Vernon appeared in the doorway. “What's he doing, waiting for them to grow?” he boomed, chuckling at his own joke. “You can wash the car next. And mind you don't scratch the paint.”

Harry nodded mutely, then bent and began pulling more weeds. Harry hated to admit it, but he was grateful for the constant excuse of motion. He was grateful for being so tired at the end of the day that he nearly passed out. He was grateful for every second he didn't have to think or feel or be the Chosen One.

Harry did not stop moving until long after the sun had set. Today had been good. The Dursley's had been too defeated by the heat to do any of their normal chores on their own, and had thus passed them to Harry.

He was not always so lucky with keeping busy. On those days, Harry took to jogging. He would run and run, and then run some more. He shut off his mind completely as his trainers pounded into the pavement.

After drying the car and rubbing a coat of wax into its sides, Harry finally allowed himself to trudge into the house and up to the smallest bedroom. He collapsed onto the bed, not caring that he stunk of sweat and dirt. After a time, Harry pulled himself upright and noted that Hedwig had returned from her last delivery and was watching him expectantly from her perch.

Harry rose to his feet and grabbed a bag of owl treats from his open trunk, then tossed a few into Hedwig's tray. She hooted happily and began eating while Harry watched. A moment passed before he realized that she had a small scroll attached to her leg.

He untied it, earning himself a sharp peck for disturbing the bird's dinner, and began to read:

Harry,

I will be coming for you at noon on the 31st. I've taken the liberty of signing you up for an Apparition test that day. A few members of the Order have suggested that it would be most beneficial for you to have that under your belt as soon as possible and I couldn't agree more. Happy early birthday, Harry. I'll see you on Sunday.

Best,

Remus Lupin

Harry read the note over twice in quick succession before setting it aside and stretching out on the bed. He tried to remember back to his Apparition lessons. He remembered Malfoy arguing with Crabbe and Goyle instead. Anger flared and Harry changed trains of thought. He tried instead to remember the times he'd successfully Apparated. Instead he remembered the last time he side-along Apparated with Dumbledore. The flash of anger Harry had felt was replaced with a pang of sadness.

Dumbledore: Harry had been blocking his thoughts entirely from anything that would remind him of his deceased mentor. Harry rolled onto his stomach, resting his chin on his hands, and shut off his mind. He emptied his thoughts until the only thing he could comprehend was the sound of Hedwig rustling behind him, and of the wind sweeping past his open window.

Mind emptied, Harry let his eyes drift shut and his body still. He would not move for the rest of the night.

It had been nearly three months that Harry had been at Privet Drive, and this had become Harry's routine. Work and sleep. He did not allow himself time to think. He was numb to all feeling and emotion. He was numb to everything except the earth beneath his hands or the pavement beneath his shoes. He was monotone and indifferent.

He didn't necessarily like what he had become. He did, however, certainly prefer it over thinking about his many losses or, worse yet, the daunting task still ahead of him.

The next morning Harry woke and plodded downstairs. He entered the kitchen and found the Dursley's taking a late breakfast. It was Saturday. Vernon grunted by way of greeting as Harry entered the room. Harry nodded in return. “You'll need to spread some manure over the gardens today.”

“Anything else?” Harry asked, taking a piece of toast off the stack on the table.

Vernon thought for a moment but came up with nothing. He shook his head. Harry nodded again, finishing his bite of toast. “I'll be leaving tomorrow. At noon.” He paused, unsure of what to say next. “I won't be back.”

Vernon's fork stopped half-way to his mouth and his eyes widened. He recovered quickly and continued eating without saying anything. Petunia paused in the midst of refilling Dudley's orange juice glass and studied him for a moment. For a brief moment she opened her mouth to speak, but quickly snapped it shut and returned her attention to the pitcher of juice in her hand.

Dudley mumbled something inaudible as usual. Recently, Vernon and Petunia had been baffled to find their son develop an anti-social attitude around them. Little did they know that young Dudder's had gone and gotten his tongue pierced. It was infected and he could barely speak.

Harry nodded. He had expected as much, or perhaps as little, from them. He turned and headed out into the yard, heaving a large bag of manure from the porch as he went.

The next day Harry woke to find Dudley in his room and measuring the distance between his door and the far wall. He turned when he saw Harry stir and said, “Ib memberdig frub gloopin.”

Harry moved to his feet and grabbed his wand from under his pillow. He pointed it directly at Dudley who let out a squeak of fight and backed into the corner. Harry rolled his eyes. “Don't move,” he commanded. “Infecto minimus.”

Dudley clapped his hands to his mouth and glared at Harry. After a moment his gaze flickered and he lowered his hands. “What did you…?”

“You're welcome,” Harry muttered.

“Aren't you going to get kicked out of that mad school of yours for that?”

“Don't you want to know why I was measuring?”

“No,” Harry answered as he set about tossing stuff into his trunk. Dudley gazed at him a moment longer and then left the room.

Twenty minutes later, Harry had packed all of his belongings away in his trunk. He snapped the door of Hedwig's cage closed, apologizing to the bird as she stared at him reproachfully. “You'll be out again soon enough,” he told her.

Harry sat down cross-legged on his bed and studied the room. He'd nearly forgotten all those long years ago, when he'd first moved into the room. It had never been home. This house had never been home. Hogwarts was his one and only home.

And he didn't know if he was going back.

There was a crack and Lupin appeared next to the window. “Hello, Harry.”

“Hullo, Remus.”

“Ready, then?”

“Yeah.”

“Did you want to go say goodbye to your,” he paused awkwardly here, “relatives?”

Harry shrugged. “I think it's best if we just go.”

Lupin nodded mutely, and then changed subjects. “We're heading straight to the Ministry for your Apparition test, then to the Burrow. Molly is expecting you for Bill and Fleur's wedding on Saturday. You'll be staying there until the wedding. After that…well, that's up to you.”

Harry shifted slightly. He'd forgotten about the wedding.

Lupin smiled knowingly and put a hand on Harry's shoulder. “I know you have a lot on your mind, Harry. This will be good for you. Go to this wedding. The people who have helped you for so many years deserve that much from you. Afterwards you can disappear. Or not. It's up to you.”

Without waiting for a response, Lupin took out his wand and Vanished Harry's trunk and Hedwig's cage. “Grab my arm, Harry.”

Harry obliged and Lupin turned on the spot. There was a loud crack and Harry Potter left Number Four, Privet Drive forever.

XXX

“Mum, have you seen my new quills? Mum?”

“They're right here, Hermione.”

“Oh, right, thanks.”

Jane Granger handed her daughter the quills in-question, watching her as she flitted around the room, packing everything away into her trunk. “Are you alright, sweets? You seem a little, ah, flustered…”

Hermione paused in the middle of emptying her sock drawer into her trunk. “I'm fine, Mum.”

“Yes, I'm sure you are. You're usually just more organized than this. You're usually packed a week before you leave. Not one day.”

Hermione frowned, tipping her arm load of socks into the trunk. “I'm fine,” she repeated, somewhat coolly this time.

Jane sighed. Hermione used to tell her things. “Alright, dear.” She stood and walked out of the room, closing the door behind her. Something was going on. Something Hermione couldn't tell her.

They'd raised a wonderful girl though. She was sure of that. She trusted Hermione.

Back in her room, Hermione moved to fold her robes, but curled them into a ball and sat down on her bed instead. She was leaving tomorrow for the Burrow. The wedding was tomorrow. Harry had been there since his birthday. Ron had told her in his last letter.

Ron had replied to her weekly letters regularly. Harry had been silent all summer. He hadn't written anyone.

Part of her was upset with him. Part of her understood. If Hermione had been in his shoes, she would probably be a bit reclusive as well. He'd had to say goodbye to so many people.

It wasn't fair. Frustrated, Hermione chucked her balled-up robes across the room. She'd be damned if she let him draw away from her, too. She'd be damned.

XXX

Anger—among other emotions—coursed through Harry as he fidgeted with the comforter on his cot in Ron's darkened bedroom. He was angry with himself for losing control. He'd finally broken.

The ceremony had been wonderful. He'd never been to a Wizard wedding before. Harry had paid attention to every detail from the setting of the family, to the release of the golden doves at the end; a tribute to Fleur's French heritage. The ceremony had been nice as well. Nice, that is, until the toast.

After spending most of the night dodging Ginny's countless requests to dance, Harry had been happy when Mrs. Weasley began asking the guests to seat themselves for the meal. The food appeared on each table—Harry had chosen a table in the back with Lupin, Tonks, Moody and Hermione. Both Harry and Hermione had been offered seats at the main table, but had declined. It was a family thing. That was ok.

As the food appeared, assorted guests began making speeches and toasts to Bill and his new wife. Finally, Bill stood to make his own toast.

“I am the luckiest man on the planet, on this, the day of my wedding, to be here at all. I would like to take a moment of our celebration,” he offered his hand to Fleur, pulling her up so that she stood next to him, “to take a moment to remember all those who are fighting and who have died fighting, to make days like this possible.” Harry noticed a shift in the guests, a few even turned in their chairs to spot him. His neck burned red and his eyes began to sting. “I would like to take a moment for us to consider just how lucky we are to have gathered here like this. I would like to take a moment to remember a recent tragedy, the passing of a close friend of all of ours, Albus Dumbledore. I would like to take a moment for all of us to bond together in the hope of a better tomorrow.”

Harry stomach dropped during this speech. The thought of his mentor had just been thrown in front of him. The thought of everything he'd been trying to block had just been dropped onto his plate. Bill bowed his head, and everyone followed suit, their eyes closed in silent prayer. Harry stood, slipped out of his chair and into the house.

He crept up the stairs as quietly as he could and into Ron's room. He sat down on his cot and faintly noted that he was shaking. Harry tried to numb himself and shut down his brain. It wasn't working.

The shaking sensation in his muscles strengthened. He was breaking and he knew it. He hated himself for it. He felt something hot and wet on his cheek and realized he was crying. Frustrated, Harry leaned back on the cot, tangling his fingers into the sheet.

There was a creak as the door was pushed open. Harry moved to wipe the tears away, but as Hermione entered and shut the door behind him, he lowered his hand. He didn't have to pretend for Hermione.

XXX

As she entered Ron's bedroom, Hermione squinted as her eyes adjusted to the darkness. For a second she considered lighting her wand, but she didn't. If Harry wanted to sit in the dark she would not take that right away from him. She would simply sit with him.

Her eyes adjusted and Harry came into focus. He was crying.

Hermione's heart ached for the raven-haired boy, and in that moment she hated the entire world for causing him pain.

XXX

Without saying a word, Hermione padded across the room towards Harry. He sat up and made room for her on the cot, and she sat down next to him. “Harry…”

He looked up at her, his emerald eyes shining more brightly than she could ever remember. “I just had to leave. I just…”

“It's ok, Harry.”

His shoulders shook and Hermione ached to reach out and touch him. She wasn't sure if she should. She wanted to do whatever it would take to stop him hurting. She would tear Voldemort apart with her bare hands if she knew it would help.

Instead, Hermione settled for leaning into him and wrapping her arms tightly around his shoulders. Harry leaned into her, burying his face in her hair. “What if I can't do it?” he whispered so quietly that for a moment she thought she had imagined it.

“You can do it, Harry. And I'll be there to help you in any way I can.”

Harry pulled back at this, steeling himself for words he knew would make her angry. “Hermione, I've thought about this a lot. You shouldn't—”

“Harry, I swear, don't finish that sentence. I've already decided. Ron as well. Don't try to be noble. We're coming,” Hermione said, her tone stern.

“I just don't want to lose you, too.”

Hermione softened at this. “You won't lose me, ever, Harry. You won't be able to shake me now, nor when you're a hundred.”

Harry's eyes locked on hers, and he was faintly surprised to see her eyes shining with tears, too. “I'll never leave you. I promise,” she added.

Harry smiled weakly. Hermione fought the urge to lean in and kiss him. She wanted to. She knew she did. Friends didn't do that. She settled for a kiss on the cheek. As she leaned in, Harry turned and caught his lips lightly on hers.

He didn't press hard, or wrap his arms around her waist. He didn't proclaim his undying love. He didn't move for more. Instead, he let his eyes drift shut for a brief second before he pulled away. Hermione's heart was pounding. “What was that for?” she asked, trying to recover herself.

“For being you. You're the only person I would ever let me see me like this. You make me believe I'm going to survive.”

Hermione could think of nothing to say. Instead she smiled at him, before taking Harry's hand and pulling him to his feet.

“We should go back down,” Hermione said, wishing she could stay there with Harry forever. She was happy when he let his guard down.

He nodded, wiping his eyes one more time. “You and Ron are coming to Grimmauld Place with me, tomorrow, right?”

Hermione nodded, “Of course. I'll follow you to the end.” Hermione frowned. She'd meant to say, `we.' Harry didn't appear to notice.

Hermione turned, her hand still in Harry's, and towed him from the room. She didn't let go until just before they returned to the party.

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