Three Days

Oneshot H/Hr.

Three Days

Day One

A large banner in red and gold flashed `Happy Birthday Hermione'. Harry Potter looked up at it, thinking that at least he'd come to the right place. He looked around, his eyes narrowed as they so often were these days. There was an exit to the right, and another at the rear of the crowded room. Harry tended to do this wherever he went; on the surface he comforted himself that it was a natural reaction to years in the dangerous and murky world of being an Auror, but underneath he knew the more deep-seated reason for his dislike of populated spaces.

“I didn't think you'd come,” said an old, familiar voice behind him.

“Neither did I,” Harry replied without turning. He felt movement as his companion walked around to face him.

“Hello, Harry,” she said, smiling. “It's so good to see you.”

“Ditto, Hermione,” he replied, drawing her into a hug.

“Keep your eyes behind, but your heart in front,” said Hermione reading a motif from the collar of Harry's jet black travelling cloak. “What's the message, Harry?”

“None that I'm aware of,” he said. “Except, of course, happy birthday.”

“Thank you.”

“Here, I got you something,” said Harry. His tone was anxious; he chided himself that after all these years, after all he'd been through, he was still unsure that he could please Hermione. He reached into his cloak and drew out the most peculiar object. It was a perfect spherical globe inside a thin, square sliver of crystal.

“It's beautiful,” said Hermione as she cast her eyes along its shimmering contours. “What is it?”

“It's called a Viridian Moonstone,” said Harry. “I picked it up in Thebes. Apparently it can be used for lots of things, especially to help diagnose illness and problem solve. I thought it might come in handy.”

“Oh, Harry, that's really thoughtful,” said Hermione sounding delighted. “And it's so pretty.”

Harry smiled, glad that he had at least done one thing right. He followed Hermione to an empty table nearby where they grabbed glasses of wine from a floating tray that passed by.

“I was starting to think you were never coming home,” said Hermione as they sat down.

“You know how my life is,” said Harry. “I'm never anywhere for very long.”

“You don't need to tell me that,” said Hermione. “What has it been now? Three years?”

“Two, I think.”

“I do hope you're going to stay a bit longer this time,” said Hermione. “It'd be nice to catch up - if you can be spared, of course.”

“I'm hoping to stay a couple of days,” said Harry. Then, when Hermione's face dropped to disappointment he added, “I hope I'll be here for a good few days - at the very least.”

“I'm glad,” said Hermione smiling that disarming smile of hers.

Just then a figure approached the table. Harry looked up into the shockingly beautiful face of Fleur Weasley.

“ `Ermione,” she began. “Your parents `ave been looking for you. Zey are over by ze dance floor. Oh! Ello, `Arry! It has been so long!”

Harry rose to hug Fleur as Hermione got up herself. Harry saw the lines of tiredness in her face and felt the usual pangs of sadness as she walked away. Harry made to speak but not before being interrupted again.

“Fleur! Fleur! You must come and `elp me. I am playing mini-Quidditch but I cannot watch ze goal and score at ze same time. Ah - `Arry Potter!”

“Hello, Gabrielle,” said Harry.

“ `Arry you look so handsome,” purred Gabrielle in her dulcet French tones. Harry's memories of her were that of a little blonde girl but Gabrielle Delacour was now sixteen going on twenty five and full of herself.

“Gabrielle!” Fleur scolded. “Leave `Arry alone. Go back to your game, I will be wiz you in a minute. Go!”

Gabrielle gave Harry another smouldering look before slouching away, shooting mutinous looks at her sister.

“She is a nightmare,” said Fleur. “I am sorry.”

“Don't be,” Harry grinned. “She's got your looks. I should be flattered.”

“I `ave my eye on you, Monsieur Potter,” said Fleur coyly. “I must go, I will speak to you later.”

With that she kissed him on both cheeks and glided away. Harry sat back down and scanned the room. A cluster of children were running around on the dance floor between the few groups of people dancing. Fred was dancing with Verity, his fiancée, and waved as Harry looked over. Harry tipped his glass in return and moved on, noticing the huddles of ex-Hogwarts students around tables here and there. There were lots of people Harry didn't know, probably Healers Hermione worked with, and some who were very clearly Muggles and must be Hermione's parents. It was with a shot of anguish that Harry noticed Ron was nowhere to be seen.

Harry got up and moved to the back of the room out of sight. He had seen more than one pair of eyes drift in his direction, noticeably from the gaggle of young girls whispering and giggling with Gabrielle Delacour over by the mini-Quidditch game they were all playing. Harry watched, mildly interested, as the miniature players swooped around the pitch throwing a little Quaffle to each other. Once he even thought he saw a miniscule flash of gold from the tiny Snitch.

“Bet you haven't played that in a while,” said a voice nearby, causing Harry to jump and instinctively reach for his wand. “You aren't going to hex me, are you?”

“No, sorry, Ginny,” said Harry composing himself. “It's just not a good idea to sneak up behind me like that.”

“I wasn't sneaking,” she said indignantly.

“You know what I mean.”

“So, how've you been?” asked Ginny. “I haven't seen you since mum's funeral.”

“Oh, you know, so so,” said Harry. “A jinx here, cursed heirloom there. I did get a bite from a hag out in Moldova. My whole arm was green for a week and smelled like gone off cabbage.”

“Nice,” said Ginny.

“And you? Still sleeping with the enemy.”

“Still,” she replied. “I won't bother trying to convince you he's not as bad as you think. I won't waste my time. Besides, he probably is that bad to you. But he's good to me and that's all I care about.”

“So is he here?”

“Somewhere,” said Ginny casually. “He's probably nipped out for a sly smoke. I've tried to make him give up the woodleaf but he's having none of it. S'pose I can allow him one vice.”

“I, er, haven't seen Ron about? Is he not here?” asked Harry, trying to sound breezy.

“You haven't heard, have you?” said Ginny. “Ron's in hospital.”

“In hospital?” asked Harry. “For what?”

“Mental breakdown,” said Ginny sadly. “He's in a special ward at St. Mungo's. He has his good days and bad days but he's been terrible just lately.”

“I had no idea,” said Harry. “But how did it, how could it, happen?”

“It started with mum,” Ginny explained. “When she went he didn't know how to cope. He wasn't well anyway; emotional problems, relationship problems. He was a mess. It didn't help losing his best friend.”

“I wasn't responsible for that,” said Harry darkly.

“Weren't you? You had a row and just walked off and disappeared. We were all worried; Ron, though he tried not to show it, felt awful, Hermione told me she cried herself to sleep for weeks over it all. It wasn't the best idea you've ever had.”

“She cried herself to sleep?” said Harry despondently. “Another layer to my legend I could do without.”

“How long is this thing between you and Ron going to go on for anyway?”

“It's been going on for the best part of six years,” said Harry. “I can't see it stopping any time soon.”

“You could just try talking to him,” said Ginny. “Your years of being friends must count for something. You could pop in to see him when he's back at work at Fred and George's shop in Hogsmeade.”

“I tried talking to him at your mum's funeral, he didn't want to know.”

“It was hard for him then,” said Ginny. “He took mum's death harder than any of us. Then there was that whole thing with you and Hermione. You'd agreed to share a house together, you were getting closer all the time. I think he always felt you were the reason he and her never got together.”

“I never did anything to stand in their way,” said Harry passionately.

“Didn't you, Harry?”

“Did I?” said Harry, trying to stay calm. “I don't know - I just never liked them together. It seemed wrong to me. I'd always had Hermione close by, I just never wanted to believe that was over. I hoped she'd always be there.”

“So you did care for her? Properly, I mean.”

“By the time I realised it, I was too late, she'd gone for Ron,” said Harry. “But I didn't mean to get in their way. I got away so I wouldn't have to deal with it.”

“But it didn't happen,” said Ginny. “When you left Ron tried, but Hermione said she just wanted to be friends, that their relationship was the deepest kind of platonic but nothing more. He didn't take that well, either. The stress just made him crack in the end. But it's Hermione I feel sorry for.”

“Hermione? Why?”

“Well because she's had to deal with all this on her own. Ron's depression after mum, his constant breakdowns, his mood swings, all of it. She's been a carer for him the last couple of years, all her time is spent looking after someone. I think she had him committed so she could at least get away from him at home. But she has nobody to look after her. You can see it in her eyes. She's dead inside.”

Harry felt his own insides turn to ice. The words rang oddly familiar as he recalled one fellow Auror commenting to another that the reason Harry was so ruthlessly efficient at his job was that he, too, was dead inside. Emotionless, detached - and deadly because of it. Harry flicked his eyes over Ginny's shoulder to see the unmistakable blond crop of Draco Malfoy's hair as he approached.

“I heard that you were here,” sneered Malfoy clapping eyes on Harry.

“Yeah, well, good news travels fast,” said Harry.

“And bad news just as quickly,” said Malfoy coolly.

“Yeah I heard they had put your dad up for early release from Azkaban.”

“Ok, enough you two!” said Ginny fiercely. “This is Hermione's birthday party, not another chance for you to be at each other's throats. Now just drop it.”

Harry and Malfoy glowered at each other for sometime longer before Harry turned away and went for another drink. At the punch bowl he found Luna staring into its depths as though trying to glean mystical knowledge from it.

“Penny for your thoughts,” said Harry, picking up a glass. Luna held out her hand, waiting for the penny. “It was, er, just a figure of speech.”

“Oh,” said Luna. “Never mind then. Oh - hello Harry!”

Harry grinned as Luna looked at him as though she was meeting a celebrity.

“How are you? I heard all about you capturing that Snozcum Grizzler in Denmark. Dad says you must be very brave trying to watch all twelve heads at once and avoid its killer breath.”

“Er, yes, it was tricky,” said Harry, not wanted to deflate the excited, expectant look on Luna's face. “So, how've you been?”

“Me?” exclaimed Luna, as though she was honoured to be asked. “I've been okay. I'm working for the Daily Prophet, you know. Dad wanted an insider on the competition, so that's me. I've been to see Ronald Weasley a few times. He isn't very well at all. But you've been to see him I suspect.”

“Mmm,” Harry replied awkwardly.

“I think it's so bad that he's got like that,” said Luna thoughtfully. “And that poor Hermione Granger - I was there once when he had a bad turn, said some very nasty things to her.”

“He did?” said Harry, fidgeting.

“Oh yes,” said Luna conversationally. “I wouldn't have liked some of those things said to me. But he always seems nice to me when I visit.”

“Harry, are you busy?”

“No, not at all, Hermione,” said Harry. “Just getting some punch.”

“Can I steal him a minute, Luna?” Hermione asked.

“Yes, of course,” Luna beamed.

“Bye,” said Harry, grateful to be rescued. As soon as they were out of earshot of Luna, Harry turned to Hermione. “Thanks.”

“I could see you looking a little uncomfortable,” said Hermione, grinning a little.

“It's just her way,” said Harry glancing back to Luna, who was still examining the punch bowl.

“Fancy a walk?” said Hermione. “For old times?”

Harry offered his arm and he and Hermione made their way into the chilly night. For a while they just walked under the silver moon, saying nothing and waiting for the other to speak. Harry eventually took the lead.

“How's Ron?”

“Oh, you heard?” said Hermione. “He was fine this morning. A bit sad that he wouldn't be able to make it to the party, but generally okay.”

“You look so tired. I can't imagine how hard it's been for you.”

“Given your line of work I find that hard to believe.”

“You should have said something, I could have come back -”

“And done what?” Hermione cut in. “You have your world and I have mine. That's what you said, remember. And he's much better off in mine.”

“I wasn't talking about Ron,” said Harry, stopping and turning Hermione to face him. “I was talking about you.”

“Oh, don't worry about me,” said Hermione dismissively. “I'm fine.”

“You don't look it,” said Harry.

“Make a girl feel good on her birthday, why don't you?” said Hermione sarcastically.

“That's not what I mean and you know it.”

“I know, I was just teasing, Harry. Besides, were we ever going to be…”

She tailed off and turned away.

“You were the one who said you couldn't commit,” said Harry.

“I couldn't, and you know that,” said Hermione hotly. “Ron was getting worse, you were away all the time; I had stress of trying to finish Healer school, moving into the house. It wasn't the best time. Then you upped and left.”

“Because I wasn't given a reason to stay,” said Harry.

“I wasn't reason enough?”

“Yes, you were the only reason, but you didn't seem to want it.”

“You didn't give me any time, Harry,” said Hermione. “It was a big step and a difficult one given the circumstances.”

“It was just a date,” said Harry.

“It would have been much more than that,” said Hermione. “It could have gone anywhere and if it hadn't worked I would have lost your friendship, we'd both have trouble with Ron, the whole fabric of my life would have unravelled.”

“I was willing to take the risk,” said Harry.

“Yes, well, I'm not as brave as you.”

They turned away from each other again. Harry sat down on a nearby wall, Hermione looking away into the distance.

“So, what now?” said Harry.

“There is no what now,” said Hermione. “Nothing's changed, has it? That's what's so hard about this. You can't just turn up every couple of years and expect me to fall into your arms. Your timing is terrible.”

“I'm sorry.”

Hermione came over and cupped Harry's face in her hands. “I know you are. I can see it in your face. But you carry burdens that you didn't have before, when this could have worked. As much as I'd want to be, there's just no room for me in your life.”

“I could change, get another job, come home,” said Harry.

“That wouldn't be you,” said Hermione. “Harry Potter behind a desk is about as absurd as me playing Quidditch. I love you too much to hold you back.”

Harry couldn't answer and Hermione seemed to understand that he didn't need to. Slipping an arm around him she ushered him back inside for one more night of happiness together.

* * *

Day Two

Harry stood outside the disused clothing shop in the middle of a busy London high street. Passers-by shot him odd looks, standing out as he did in a full-length black cloak gazing as the shop front of a store nobody could ever remember being open. But Harry didn't care. His thoughts were only on what he was about to do and how good an idea it would actually turn out to be.

For ever since Hermione's birthday party Harry had been thinking about just one thing - his old life. He wanted it back, or at least to forge a new one in its image. He hated being strangely detached from the jollity and fun of the party, his lifestyle of danger and underworld dealings contrasting starkly with what he truly wanted. For the first time in a long time, he truly understood what this was and he was determined to make it happen.

With a baited breath Harry stepped forward. A mannequin, sloped haphazardly against the window, was his target and with a quiet whisper he stated his name and the person he was visiting. He was welcomed inside and passed through the glass barely feeling the icy chill which ran along his body.

The reception was bustling as usual. Several rows of disgruntled looking witches and wizards sat waiting to be seen. Harry started at young girl who had sprouted a unicorn horn from her forehead. She was bawling at her mother, telling her that she wanted to keep the golden horn as it was pretty. Harry chortled quietly and made his way to the desk.

“Yes, can I help you?” said the bored receptionist.

“I've come to visit a friend of mine but I don't know which ward he's on,” said Harry.

“Name?”

“Mine or his?”

“If I wanted your name I'd just read the Daily Prophet or Lockhart's new biography of you - Mr Potter,” said the receptionist. “What is it? Eighteen weeks at the top of the best sellers' list?”

“I heard twenty,” said Harry, gritting his teeth at the thought.

“Hmmm,” said the receptionist. “The name, then?”

“Ronald Weasley.”

“Weasley, Weasley,” said the receptionist consulting a long register. “Ah, here it is. Eighth floor. Mental Maladies. You're looking for the Cara Cerebellus Ward. Next!”

Harry was shoved aside by an oaf of a man who smelled strongly of garlic and stale ale and made his way to the elevator. He jostled through the people getting off and pressed eight quickly before anyone else could get it. The lift clinked and rattled up to the eighth floor without stopping, alighting Harry onto a very dim corridor.

It was sparse up here, not well lit and warm like all the other floors Harry had visited in the hospital. A cluster of light orbs on the ceiling gave the impression they were coming to the end of their life so insubstantial was the light they cast everywhere. Dark shadows prevailed on each side of the bland corridor whose grey walls and grey linoleum floors gave a very sedate and sterile feel to the place. Harry made his way along the corridor, the echo of his feet ricocheting through the silence, towards the first door. He looked up to a plaque above it.

Cara Cerebellus Ward

St Mungo's Healer 1812-1843

Inventor of the Hair-loss Hiding Headband

Healer in Residence: Greta Greenoak

Harry pushed open the heavy double doors and entered. It was cold in here and the low temperature seemed magnified by the silence of the place. There were about eight beds here, some closed off with curtains and others empty. The bed nearest Harry was filled by a wizened old warlock who was trying to swat flies, though neither the fly nor the swatter was real. Harry moved on.

“Can I help you?” said a Healer coming out of her little office to the left.

“Yes,” said Harry. “I've come to visit Ron Weasley. I was told he was here.”

“Of course, follow me.”

Harry followed the Healer to the far end of the ward to one of the curtained beds. She pulled it aside and beckoned Harry to enter.

“Ron, you have a visitor,” she said. She turned to Harry. “You'll have to sit with him for a while. Sometimes it takes a while for him to notice anyone's there. He has to come out of whatever world he's gone to. I'll leave you with him.”

Harry returned her pitying smile and she left. Sitting in the chair by the bed Harry watched Ron as he gesticulated and muttered to whoever it was he was talking to. On the bedside table he could see cards from his family, Hermione and at least four from Luna. There were several empty boxes of chocolate frogs, a half-empty tray of liquorice wands and a bowl of fruit which looked like it hadn't been touched. There was a picture of his parents next to the fruit, looking concerned as they watched over him. Harry smiled at Mrs Weasley then turned back to Ron.

“Er - Ron,” said Harry clumsily. “It's me, Harry. Er, how you doing, mate?”

Stupid question to ask, Harry thought. He's in the hospital, how's he likely to be?

“I, um, heard that you weren't well,” Harry continued. “So I thought I'd come and see you. I don't know why I'm talking so loud, not like you're deaf, is it?”

Ron continued muttering incoherently. He was now counting on his fingers.

“I heard the Cannons are doing well,” said Harry casting around for a topic. “Won three in a row. That's good, isn't it? It was Hermione's birthday yesterday, I saw Luna there. Funny that she's coming to see you, don't you think?”

“Luna,” said Ron suddenly.

“Yes,” said Harry. “Luna. You know, old Loony Lovegood.”

“Loony,” said Ron grinning. Harry thought of the irony of mentioning Luna's old nickname in this situation. Ron suddenly looked over at Harry. His eyes seemed glazed but he fixed Harry with a startled look.

“Harry?”

“Yeah, yeah mate, it's me, Harry.”

“Harry? Is that you? You look funny, Harry. You're all messed up. What are you doing here?”

“I've come to see you,” said Harry. “How are you?”

“Funny sort of place this, isn't it?” said Ron, sounding like Luna. “They bring you food and everything smells weird.”

“Yeah, it does,” said Harry snickering.

“Harry, where've you been?” said Ron. “You-Know-Who could attack any time. We need you.”

“Ron - we killed him, remember? Me and Hermione and you. We killed him six years ago.”

“Yeah, I remember,” said Ron. “You and Hermione did some tricksy little spell. How did that go again?”

“I can't remember,” Harry lied. “Hermione did most of it.”

“Hermione? Is she here too?”

“No Ron, just me,” said Harry.

“Harry! When did you get here, mate?”

Harry choked back a lump in his throat. “Ron, I'm so sorry.”

“Why? What have you done?”

“I've been a git,” said Harry. “I could say something worse but it's too sterile here.”

“Ha ha ha! You said sterile!” said Ron bursting out laughing. “Ha ha ha!”

Harry didn't know what Ron might have thought he said and he was beyond asking him. The pity and guilt welling up inside Harry was so much that he wasn't sure he could bear it.

“Where's Luna? Let's go and find Luna, Harry. She makes me laugh like you wouldn't believe.”

“I'm not sure I can take you out,” said Harry.

“There's a garden I go to, lets go there, she's sometimes there.”

Harry got up and went to the Healer's office as Ron called to Harry to wait for him. He knocked on the door.

“Yes?”

“I was wondering if it was possible to take Ron somewhere? He said something about a garden?” said Harry.

“Oh, I'm not sure,” said the Healer. “You aren't a regular visitor, you might not be prepared for him to have a bad turn.”

“I'm his oldest friend, I will deal with it.”

They debated it for several minutes until the Healer relented. Harry helped Ron into a wheelchair and carted him off along the ward.

“This is the life,” said Ron happily. “Getting pushed around is great. Where are we going?”

“The garden, you said.”

“Oh good, I like the garden.”

Following the directions the Healer had given him, Harry wheeled Ron to the 3^rd floor where a special botanical garden had been created complete with a water fountain and live birds and animals. Harry pushed quietly as Ron talked, becoming more and more sensible as time went by until eventually it seemed he was almost normal.

“Stop a minute, Harry,” said Ron as they passed a bench. “Sit down.”

Harry obeyed and wheeled Ron next to the bench.

“You've been gone a long time,” said Ron. “What's that all about?”

“Hard to come back,” said Harry. “Wasn't exactly the best situation here.”

“You should have tried harder,” said Ron. “You caved in too easily. That's not the you I know. You should he stayed for her, no matter what happened with you and me.”

“What are you on about?”

“Harry, I may have gone mental but I'm not stupid,” said Ron. “I remember everything sometimes. I'm on about Hermione.”

“What about her?” said Harry.

“You should have stayed for her,” said Ron. “She needed you and you walked away. I know we fell out over her, but it was you she liked. I'd have realised it eventually. Before it did my box in. Now I'm just a burden to her and she's too good to not help me.”

“It's her job,” said Harry.

“Everyone needs a day off,” said Ron. “She cares for us both. Having us at each other's throats is almost as bad as you leaving her. Almost.”

“Yeah, well, told you I was an idiot,” said Harry. “I didn't mean to come between you two.”

“Yes you did,” said Ron. “And Hermione wanted you to as well. Then, when you get what you wanted, you just disappeared. She took it so badly; it was like you'd died.”

“What can I do? How can I make it up to her?”

“Change, if that's what you want,” said Ron. “I'll always care for Hermione but you two should be together. Who am I to get in the way of fate?”

Harry and Ron chatted for a little while longer until Ron had to go back for his medication. Harry promised to visit soon and left the hospital with a totally new plan forming in his mind.

* * *

Day Three

Two documents lay on the worktop next to the dining room door. They were the first things Hermione saw as she entered the house. Her curiosity was already aroused by the sweet smell emanating from the kitchen as she arrived home. The house should have been empty and her first thought was that something was on fire; the candle-lit dining table set for two gave her a different impression.

Harry was in the kitchen as Hermione walked in. He realised he must look ridiculous in the `Kiss the Cook' apron he was wearing but he didn't care. Hermione was wearing a bemused look on her face as Harry turned to her; the effect was just what he was hoping for.

“Harry - what's going on?” she asked, puzzled.

“Don't ask questions, just come with me and sit down,” said Harry. He ushered her back to the dining room, relieved her of her coat and sat her at the table. Uncorking a chilled bottle of wine he filled two glasses and handed one to her.

“Harry -what-” Hermione began.

“I thought I'd make you dinner,” he said. “You look like you could use some pampering. I still know my way around a kitchen so you just sit there and I'll be in shortly. Oh, and-”

Harry pointed his wand at a box on the wall which immediately started playing soft music. Hermione smiled, impressed, and sat back with her drink. Harry went back to busying himself finished up dinner and was soon serving up and joining Hermione. They began to eat, Hermione's eyes widened in surprise.

“Harry - this is excellent! Where did you learn this?” said Hermione.

“Book,” said Harry casually. “Easy to follow instructions. I'm glad you like it.”

They chatted occasionally as they ate, Hermione mostly praising Harry's new found skill. Once their plates were emptied and Harry cleared them away, the topic turned to serious matters.

“Okay, I've let you dodge this long enough,” said Hermione. “What's this all about?”

“I've just had a change of heart about things,” said Harry. “Aren't I allowed?”

“Harry?”

“I miss the weather here. I like the rain.”

“Harry?”

“Okay - I've realised what I want out of life and it wasn't what I was doing. I'm starting afresh.”

“Meaning what?” said Hermione. “We discussed this only a few days ago, remember?”

“I know, but I have to do what's right for me,” said Harry.

“And what's that, exactly?” said Hermione.

“I quit my job,” said Harry.

“You did what?” said Hermione. “Harry - why?”

“I'd had enough,” said Harry. “Enough of the intrigue, the suspicion, the danger. It's not the life I want.”

“So you think you can waltz back in here and make everything better?” said Hermione hotly. “It doesn't work like that. You can't just decide one day to change.”

“Well, I have,” said Harry. “I've already spoken to my boss and that's my notice over there, ready to owl first thing. I also went to the Department of Magical Sports and Games, spoke to Ludo Bagman. He's arranged for me to have a few trials with local Quidditch sides. I'm going to play professionally.”

“You-you're serious about this,” said Hermione, her expression changing. “Really serious?”

“Absolutely,” said Harry. “And I feel great. I just wanted to celebrate tonight. That's what all this was for. I'm trying to bribe you to let me move back into my old room. No strings.”

“Harry, this is all a bit much.”

“No it's not, its perfect,” said Harry. “I can do a job I'll love, I can help out around here and even help with Ron. He thought it was a great idea when I told him.”

“You've seen Ron?” asked Hermione in astonishment.

“Twice,” said Harry. “I asked him if he thought you'd agree to it and he said you owe me a chance and should give it to me.”

Hermione laughed. “I did speak to Healer Greenoak today who said Ron was doing really well. She didn't say you'd been to see him.”

“What do you say?” said Harry. “Shall we try?”

“But what about us? What's going to happen there?”

Harry took her hand in his own. She returned his squeeze with interest.

“I don't know,” said Harry looking into her eyes. “I know what I want but we'll just have to wait and see.”

Hermione closed her eyes and looked as though she were choking back emotion.

“What is it?” Harry asked.

“Oh, Harry - I just don't know if I can do this,” said Hermione getting up and walking away.

“Do what?” said Harry, joining her by the fireplace.

“Just let you back into my life like this,” said Hermione hotly, tears forming in her eyes. “I was over you, Harry. I'd gotten used to being without you. Now you just turn up and walk back in here, changing your life. I just don't know if I can do it. I don't know if I can dare to be hurt again.”

Harry embraced her as she began to sob, swaying her gently to the music. She shook as the tears came, releasing all the tension she had built up for years.

“I'm not asking for anything from you, Hermione,” said Harry softly. “I know I hurt you, but it was the last thing I wanted. I'm so sorry. I'm not pressuring you. I don't want anything you don't want to give.”

“That's the point,” she cried from his shoulder. “I want to give you everything. I'm just scared to.”

Harry moved his hand to her chin and lifted her face to meet his. He kissed her gently, his cheek brushing against her tear-strewn skin. They kissed for what seemed to Harry like an age, but it was over all too soon. He looked down at her.

“Then we'll take it one step at a time,” he whispered. She smiled back and together they danced.

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