The memory started the night before Harry found them. He was in the kitchen with Hermione as they finished cleaning up for dinner. He stood and watched as the memories of him and Hermione laughed about on thing or another. Was he ever so care free?
He watched as his memory cleaned the dishes as Hermione put away some of the left overs. There was an odd look here or there between them, a calling from lovers if you will. Hermione kept glancing at him, yet a sadness in her eyes told Harry he was missing something.
"Do you have to work tonight?" She asked.
"I wish I didn't," Memory-Harry said. His hands went down to the edge of the sink gripping them lightly. "I'm thinking about quiting." His voice was soft, and Harry could feel his pain from the past as he spoke.
"What?" Hermione turned at look at him for a moment. At the time, Harry had thought she did not hear him, but the look on her face was so shocked, so surprised that he knew she had.
"Nothing love," Harry said. The fake smile still hurt him to that day. "You meeting Ron tonight?" Harry looked at the real Hermione for a moment, gaging her reaction to her own words.
Hermione looked ready to cry, and Harry felt sorry for her. As his memory spoke, he could see the pain of realization cross her face, and the loss of her naivety. This was digging up as many demons for her, as it was for him.
"No, but if he stops by we might go out for drinks," she said. "Its odd how he always seems to stop by whenever you aren't here." His memory nodded, but he should have known Ron was moving in on Hermione. She should have known.
"Maybe we should set something up," Harry said, looking back at her. The memory-Harry was hiding his previous statement, and the real-Harry knew Hermione would never push him to answer something she probably wasn't sure she heard in the first place.
"I don't want you to get in trouble with work Harry," Hermione said. Harry watched the memory of her move over to his memory, hugging him gently.
"I need to leave soon." Watching the memory kiss was too much. Harry turned away, not knowing that Hermione did the same as she was forced to watch. Girard stayed back, not saying anything, though Harry knew the man would have enough questions later.
"I wish you could stay."
"Me too." Harry had mouthed the words along with the memory, remembering them for so long. He beat himself up over those simple words; instead of doing what he had wanted to, he followed him head. He wanted to stay with her and never let go. In the end, though, she was the one that let go of him.
"Let's stop here for a moment," Girard said. The memory froze, and both Hermione and Harry looked over at him. "Hermione, how often did you go out for drinks with Ron?"
"Once, maybe twice a week. Sometimes he'd come over here and we'd chat," Hermione said. She looked at Harry for a moment, he caught her eyes. "I didn't think anything of it though. Just going out and being with a friend."
"Understandable, from your perspective that is all it was, we'll see more about that later," Girard commented. He turned toward Harry. "What do you feel about that?" Harry was caught off guard a little. A little might be an understatement as he thought Girard would see things his way, that it wasn't just drinks with a friend.
"About her going out with Ron?" Girard nodded. "I'd like to see how they interacted before I tell you. As of now, I feel that more of the blame lies on Ron, then does on Hermione." He heard her let out a sigh of relief. "But that doesn't mean I don't feel betrayed any less."
"Good, you may each ask the other a question if you like," Girard said. He sat back in his chair, though Harry could not tell how he brought it with him.
"Did you really want to quit?" Hermione asked. Harry nodded, looking at the image of his memory and hers still embraced.
"I just thought too many people would be disappointed, that they all worked so hard, that you worked so hard, to make sure I could get in, that if I quit, it'd be like I was failing them." He turned to look at her, knowing that he did not want to say it, but she needed to know. "That I'd be failing you."
"You could never fail me," Hermione whispered. They still stood a bit apart, distance enough that they could react on their own, yet as she reached across to grab his hand. He felt a little bit of his hurt fade. Not much, but a little. The burden of failing, even now, haunted him. He hated it, no matter how much he showed differently, he hated to fail.
"But I did." he gave her hand a squeeze before letting it go, turning back to memory. "I pushed you away." He looked at their image for a long time, trying to think of a question, anything to ask her. He could only think of one at the moment.
"Why did you stay so long with me, if you thought it wasn't working out?" Harry asked. The words fell out of his mouth, heavy and hard. They hit that way as well, judging by the look on Hermione's face.
"I....I...I don't know," she said. Her voice became a whisper as she turned from him, to look away from the memory of an embrace they held. "I didn't think it wasn't working out..." Harry raised an eyebrow, not trusting everything she was saying. But he did not speak, knowing she had a right to her words, and he'd be able to respond in the end. "I couldn't bring myself to talk to you about the problems, and I didn't know how to approach you about to begin with."
"So you went to Ron?" Girard asked. Harry felt his neck crack as he snapped to look at the man. Did he just read his mind or something?
"No, I didn't tell anyone, at least, not until that night," Hermione said. She looked at Harry for a moment before looking at Girard. "It'd be best if I was able to show you." Girard nodded and the memory around them faded. Harry watched as their apartment turned into a bar near their home.
Hermione walked in, dressed as she had been when she was in their kitchen. She wasn't wearing any makeup or anything of the sort. She usually didn't need to in his opinion, but when she did BAAM! Knocked him straight to the moon. He smiled at the thought but let it go. Ron was already sitting at a high table, munching on the peanuts the bar offered.
"Hermione!" Ron's face lit up immediately. Hermione turned away immediately from the memory immediately; Harry could only guess that she was thinking the same thing too: Ron's reaction was not simply platonic.
"Ron, its good to see you again," Memory-Hermione said. Her voice was not as cheery as Ron's, nor did her face light up as much. Harry watched them make small talk, though Ron kept trying to move closer to her. Finally she asked the question that Harry wanted an answer to: "Why'd you ask me out here tonight?"
"I wanted to see you," Ron said. His laughed covered nervousness up, Harry could tell that much. "Isn't that enough?"
"But why? You saw me last week," Hermione said. She never got an answer. A bunch of their friends, Seamus, Dean, Lavender and them dropped into the bar as well. Timed perfectly, but Harry figured it was just a flawed thought.
They bought several rounds, and Harry wasn't surprised to see them getting drunk. The few times he had been able to make it with them, he had gotten drunk along with them, but now he the thirst was getting to him. He wanted to drink, he wanted to forget. He wanted....
He took several deep breaths, feeling Hermione's and Girard's stares on him. He tried to force the urge to leave now. He needed this just as much as Hermione did. He could wait to force these problems out of him. He was stronger than that. He nodded, letting them continue on with the memory.
The night carried on without much fanfare, except Harry noticed Ron kept trying to get Hermione to drink. While the rest of them were getting drunk, she nursed a glass of wine. This wasn't to say that she completely avoided Ron's actions; his subtler hints at closeness got by, like reaching for the peanuts at the same time she was, or leaning in to compliment her. This passed by Hermione in a flash. Each one only encouraged Ron to try to get closer.
"Body shots!" One of the crowd of gathered yelled. Both Hermiones froze at this, causing Harry to look at each face carefully. Everyone but Ron was attached. They had done these once before, when he was there with the group. Hermione did them with him, but seemed embarrassed after only a set. She liked to be private about things, about their love. Or at least, he thought she did. He wasn't quite sure how she thought anymore, given the circumstances.
The faces of the crowd made Harry think this was planned. How could it not be? All but Ron was attached, so he was the one in need of a partner. Hermione was lacking one as well. Ron's smile gave the rest away. He planned this, or at least set it up in his favor. Drop the hint or two.
"No," Hermione said, snapping out of her thoughts. The memory played on though. "No, I'm not doing those."
"Come on Herms," Seamus said. Lavender snuggled up next to him, giggling about something. "Where's your sense of fun?"
"At work," the memory said with such honesty, it startled him. Harry looked at her, causing her to blush.
"Herms, what's the deal?" Ron whispered to her.
"The deal is I did not come out here to get drunk, I came out here to talk to an old friend," her memory said.
"Look, I just thought you might want to have some fun, being stuck in that flat by yourself," Ron said. A subtle jab at Harry. Those were common for the evening. Most of them passed Hermione right by, but she glared at Ron for this one. "sorry for trying to include you." he turned at this, and again Harry got the sense that Ron was attacking, playing off of Hermione's kindness. Apparently it worked, as the memory showed her giving in to drinking, but not to the body shots. Thank God for small favors.
"After that, I pretty much let them give me whatever," Hermione admitted. Harry turned to look at her, not quite sure what to make of it. "Even when I tried to stop an hour in, Ron played the same card, or a variant of it."
"You had enough sense to push him off of you it looks like," Girard commented. Harry nodded, not trusting himself to say something incredible hurtful or stupid.
"As long as I could tell it wasn't Harry, I wasn't letting anyone get to close," Hermione said. Harry looked at her for a moment, feeling guiltly for his words until Girard spoke again.
"But what if you couldn't tell?"
"I..." Hermione had no response for this. The memory kept playing, and as time progressed, she tried to stop drinking, simply because she was three sheets to the wind already. Harry felt his heart go out for her, as the memory-Hermione was kept given drinks, despite being as drunk as he has ever seen for her. She began to talk more about his and her relationship as the night passed, and more alcohol got into her system. Every flaw Harry had, or maybe perceived to have, Ron pounced on, complimenting himself while taking cracks at Harry. Had Hermione been sober, she would have noticed it. But she wasn't. And she only agreed with him more and more as the night passed.
"This is where things begin to get really fuzzy for me," Hermione said. The memory showed it as the images began to fade slightly and the clarity was going as well. They watched as Ron helped Hermione up, holding her a bit closer than friends would. Harry held his tongue in check as the memory shifted from the bar to the flat he and Hermione shared.
"He lead me up to my room, then I don't remember much after that," Hermione commented. The memory showed just that, Ron leading her up the room he and Hermione shared. Letting her fall to the bed unceremoniously, Ron stood there for several moments. The memory was still fading as Hermione seemed to be falling asleep rather quickly.
"I hope...." Ron's voice trailed off here. The memory went black for a few moments before soft words and images faded into view.
"Harry?" Hermione's voice cracked with sleep. He looked over at her as her memory self was waking on their bed. She wasn't alone though.
"Sssh." That was Ron's voice. It was loud, but only because Harry figured that Ron was the body lying next to her. "It's me."
"No," Hermione turned at this, away from Ron. "Want Harry."
"Harry's not here," Ron's voice said. The images faded again, this time, Hermione was sitting up right, with Ron pulling off her shirt. "Trust me love, its going to be okay." Hermione just moaned, not a pleasurable one, no more like the kind when there are no words for the situation. Like right now. Where she didn't want it to happen, but she could not find the words. At least that was what Harry was hoping her thoughts were. Again the images faded. This time, they remained that way.
"You know what happened next," Hermione said. "You found us in bed together, both without our shirts on."
"But that doesn't answer the question," Harry said. He wanted answers, this only left him with more questions.
"I think the point is Harry, that maybe she did not sleep with Ron, maybe she did," Girard said. "But can you forgive her either way?" Harry's mind stopped at this and looked over at her for a moment. Could he? Did he want to forgive her?
He spent six years of his life hating her, hating her for doing this to him, but how much of it really was her fault? Shaking his head, he knew there was only one answer he could give at the moment. "We need to set up another meeting."
"Why?" Girard asked.
"Because we want to work it out," Hermione said, completing his thought. Harry would have smiled at her, if he was not so damn confused over what to do about her.
I0I
Harry entered Hogwarts for the first time in nearly seven years. Not to say that he did not still talk to some of the Professors, but he had his reasons for staying away. All of which Professor McGonagall knew.
"Glad you finally found the time to join us again, Harry," McGonagall said. Harry looked back from the window he was staring out; the winter season was almost upon them, and Hogwarts was already showing the signs of an early frost. The lake was freezing over already, bit by bit, and the kids with Care for Magical Creatures were bundled up tighter than they probably should have been for this time of year. Such is lovely English weather.
Harry shrugged at her comment. "Some things are hard to push away." he looked back at the lake. "out of sight, out of mind."
"How have you been, really?" McGonagall's voice held none of the stern professor she had been when he was her student.
"I wish I could say better, but then I would be lying," harry gave her sad smile as he turned back to look at the professor. She sat at her desk, looking every bit of the Headmistress that she was. "I think I'm getting there though, that's the important thing."
"No, the important thing is that you are here to talk about," she said. Harry nodded, reminded of his fatalistic point of view during the war. "Are you going to continue you're education?" What had once been a point of great comfort for him, now just left him confused.
"I really want to, but after going through so much therapy with Dr. Girard, I don't know if I really want to pursue Psychology," Harry said. He sat in the chair in front of her desk, taking one of the biscuits she always had laying out. "I think I really was pursuing it as something to do, to get my mind off of everything. It worked." He sat there for a moment. "I've been talking with Ollivander about coming on as an apprentice. We'll see how it goes." He shrugged, letting the conversation die down.
"How's therapy going?" She asked. The question she had wanted to ask since he walked in.
"Slow," Harry said after finishing the biscuit. "My solo sessions have made a lot of progress, but they've taken a back seat to the sessions with Hermione." McGonagall perked up at this, again the story she wanted to hear. He almost wanted to laugh.
"Hermione has been doing much better since she started going," McGonagall commented. "I was afraid for quite some time that I might have to ask her to take a holiday."
"She not doing well?" Hermione never mention her work during their sessions. So far there only had only been four other of them, twice a month, every other week. It took the first two sessions to work past that night.
Harry had still been unsure as to forgive her if she had slept with Ron. He could forgive her if he chose to believe that she didn't but Girard would not let he think about that until he thought about if she did sleep with Ron. Girard laid down the law though, giving him an ultimatum during the middle of the second session. Either forgive her or walk out the door. Forever.
For the rest of that session, no one spoke. Harry felt the shock finally fade as the session ended. He had held onto his hate for her for so long, it felt....awkward to let it go. To let something that had stewed inside of him for seven years. Locked in the chair, as Girard and Hermione were beginning to leave, he felt something break. That was the end of it, the end of everything they had if he could not let go of all of the pain, and more importantly all of the hate. "I forgive you."
Later, Hermione told him there were tears running down his face. The next session in fact. But he didn't remember crying, or even starting to in the middle of that session. All he could think about is, he had his chance to get her back into his life. Even if it was just as friends.
"She completes her classes like all of the other professors here, however there is no light in her eyes, no fire to teach," McGonagall said. "Not like she used to at least."
"When she was with Ron?" Harry asked. McGonagall shook her head, a small smile gracing her face.
"When she was with you," she said. Harry felt his heart skip a couple beats, then fitfully restart. Funny how McGonagall missed that, or it probably was just his imagination. "She found that fire again, at the very end of the term, but lost it over the summer. She's finally turning back into the same Hermione the seventh years were able to experience. A wonderful teacher."
"She always has been," Harry said without thinking. If he had been a younger student, he would have blushed under McGonagall's gaze. Now he just had the good sense to look away.
"Well, now she's making her way back to that point again," she said. "I trust that you won't let her fall down that slippery slope again?"
"We're working out the problems as we go along," Harry said. A smile grew on his face, as he thought about the last session, where they were able to begin working on reactions to each others problems or mistakes. What made him smile though, was the hug she gave him at the end, or did he start that hug? Either way, it was not bone-crushing nor delicate. It was close, and warm, and more helpful then any hours of therapy he had received so far. That alone made he think they could become friends again. Maybe more.
Pushing that thought out of his mind, he looked back at McGonagall. She gave him a knowing smile, like she read his mind. While he wouldn't put it past her, more likely, she had seen the same smile on Hermione's face.
"She should be here any minute now," McGonagall said. She looked at the clock on the wall, next to one similar to the clock the Weasleys' had. Only this one had an arm for all of the professors, and himself apparently. "You're always welcome here you know that Harry."
"I do, but-" McGonagall cut him off.
"But you are still finding yourself," she said. "Completely understandable, Harry. However, do expect that you are not a stranger anymore."
"No ma'am," Harry said. He figured now was as good of a moment as any. "If it'd help, I'd like you to join my family for dinner on Christmas." There were few times Harry remembered McGonagall ever being shocked. This was one of the first he could.
"Christmas? Family?" McGonagall got out. Harry nodded, glad to shock some life into the Headmistress.
"Yes for Christmas, as for my family, its makeshift." He shrugged his shoulders at this, knowing that he would not have his own children for severals. Not until he got over Hermione, if he ever did. "But I'd like you there all the same."
"I'd be delighted to," McGonagall said, a wide smile on her face. Harry could not help but smile back; hers made her face look young, not so worn from the years of war she survived. They all carried scars, they all carried burdens.
Harry turned at the knock on the door, knowing Hermione was about to let herself in. She didn't fail his guess as she walked looking slightly tired from teaching all day. Her face lit up though as she met his smile. "Harry, i'm surprised you're hear already, I was afraid I was going to have to floo you."
"Not at all, Harry and I were just catching up," McGonagall said. Harry nodded, standing from his chair. He walked over and gave her a hug, welcoming her back fully in his life. "Don't be a stranger this time Harry." McGonagall waved them off as he and Hermione walked back down the stairs.
"You were awful cozy with her," Hermione commented. Harry shrugged his shoulders, not really knowing what to say. They walked in silence outside the castle, heading toward Hogsmeade slowly. He was right, winter was settling in early on them. He wanted to offer his jacket to Hermione, it was the kind of thing he did before when they were just friends. But the distance between them still seemed to large. Despite standing next to her.
"You think we're making progress?" Hermione asked him. He snapped out of his thoughts, turning to look at her.
"I think it's a work in progress," Harry said. HE did not want to commit one way or another, but he still felt that they were mending some of the bridges. The work was a lot easier once he realized that he did not want her to not be a part of his life. "We've got ways to go though."
"You think it'll ever be as it was?" Hermione asked again, after several moments of silence.
"I want to say yes, I really do," Harry said. "But I don't think we can ever get back to normal for us."
"What if we make a new normal?" Hermione asked. They had been steadily getting closer together, and he felt her hand wrap around his lightly. She looked at him a little fear in her eyes. She was just as scared of this as he was. Giving her hand a squeeze, he chanced a look at her, giving her a small grin.
"I think I can manage that."
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