Disclaimer: Canon Harry Potter stories are not mine
A/N: This isn't an update, I just re-worked this chapter a little bit. Hope it's a tad better.
Chapter 2 - Old Regrets and New Mistakes
Hermione stood in the street looking up at the building where Harry lived. It was very quiet, and though the homes in the area were very nice, she was sure that he hadn't spent much money on the place. Harry had plenty of money, due to his fame and because of the fortune his parents had left him. However, he rarely spent it to excess, especially on himself. Sighing she looked down at the crumpled piece of paper clutched in her hand, with the address written on it which she'd managed to get through friends she had at the ministry.
She felt a wave of guilty wash over her. Her stomach churned and she had the need to turn around and apparate out of there. Ron didn't know she was here, and she was sure he would be far from pleased if he knew. She had to do this for herself though.
Hermione closed her eyes and took a deep breath, and slowly climbed the stairs up to the door. With a trembling hand she formed a fist and knocked. After a few agonizing moments the door swung open and she saw the familiar face of her best friend Harry. It was hard to believe that she hadn't seen him at all for the past two years before his sudden appearance the other day. Harry looked at her and his eyes widened; clearly he hadn't expected to see her anytime soon. Hermione noticed that Harry looked around apprehensively as though he expected Ron to pop out of nowhere and slug him. He leaned against the door frame studying her face with an inquiring air.
"Hi, Harry," she managed, at a loss for anything else to say to break the moment of uneasy silence.
"Um, hi Hermione, come in," Harry offered politely but clearly confused about her appearing at his door. Hermione took him up on his offer before she lost the small amount of nerve that she had left at the moment. Harry looked around and then shut the door behind them. She looked around in curiosity at his flat, a welcome distraction for her nerves.
He hadn't lived there long from the look of things. There were half unpacked boxes sitting in the hallway and most of the walls were still completely bare. She bit her lip to keep back tears when she noticed that the one picture Harry had hung up, was one of him, her and Ron from their last year at Hogwarts. Looking away, she followed Harry down the hall.
"I'm glad that it was you and not one of the flocks of girls from the expanding fan club I seem lucky enough to have acquired," Harry told her with an anxious smile. "I had one nearly rip my shirt off me the other day, not much fun. They're bloody terrifying at times actually." His eyes sparkled with humor.
Hermione grinned feebly, but felt a flash of emotion which she knew to be jealousy. She frowned to herself. Harry was certainly not her boyfriend, what reason did she have to feel resentful? Besides she was mad at him. Harry shifted around nervously.
"We can sit down if you want," Harry said, gesturing to a cluttered table with two mismatched chairs that he seemed to be using as a desk and a dining table. There were papers, books, and a few crumb-covered plates spread across its surface. Hermione silently took a seat. Harry quickly moved some things off the table, in an effort to make it look a little nicer.
She took a moment to study Harry more carefully. When she'd last seen him, she'd been so upset and taken aback that she hadn't had time to take in his appearance. Hermione noted worriedly that he looked to thin, much like he had when she'd first met him. There were still traces of scars, undoubtedly from his various battles with Voldemort and Death Eaters for the past two years. His face was even more pale than usual, and his brilliant emerald eyes were red-rimmed, making them stand out ever more. As he moved to take a seat at the she noted a limp in his usually steady, confident gait, which Professor Snape had deemed a strut during their Hogwarts years. Harry, who always seemed invincible, looked almost fragile. Suddenly she longed to hold, tell him he wasn't alone and that she still cared about him. He looked curiously lonely to her.
Harry noticed Hermione looking at him, and she quickly averted her eyes in embarrassment. As she did so, she felt her eyes fill up with tears. Harry sighed softly, looking down at his hands. He nervously fiddled around with a small bit of parchment that had been lying on the table.
He looked up, trying to get her to meet his eyes.
"I like your flat," she commented politely, trying to make a bit of small talk, and relieve some of the awkwardness of the situation.
Harry looked around and shrugged. "Ah, it's not much, but it's a sight better than Dursleys'." His tone was somewhat cold. She looked at him quizzical. It was clear that now wasn't the time for friendly chit chat.
Harry cleared his throat and unconsciously rubbed his sore leg. Hermione looked away. It was hard to stay angry at someone who still looked so hurt and broken from the final battle with Voldemort. Harry looked up at, his expression inscrutable.
"Hermione, not to be rude, but why are you even here? Ron made it pretty clear how you two feel about me. I figured it would be a long time before I saw either of you again," Harry commented bitterly, breaking the silence.
Hermione frowned. "Do be fair Harry. I said nothing against you yesterday. I was so happy to see you, so glad to have you back. Though you must admit, Ron and I have a right to be angry with you,"
"That's just the problem. I can't believe you said nothing. The Hermione I knew never hesitated to contradict Ron if she didn't agree, and you said nothing," Harry retorted, appearing angry and hurt. Hermione sighed in frustration.
"Harry, really. I know Ron was a bit rude, but the way you left us, it hurt us.
What upsets us the most is the fact that you didn't even bother to tell us. Also, you didn't seem to believe that Ron and I would have died for you if you let us help you. Because if you'd known that, you wouldn't have gone off on your own," Hermione told him quietly, unable to meet his eyes as she spoke.
Harry looked baffled for a moment. "But Hermione, I told you I was going! I told you both! I swear," Harry exclaimed. His tone was insistent.
Hermione felt anger pulse through her veins. She stood up, making the chair screech loudly on the old wooden floor. Tears of anger sprang to her eyes. Why was he lying like this?
"Oh, yeah, is that so? Harry James Potter! Don't lie to me. You can lie to the newspapers and to your asinine fan club all you want, but not to me, please not to me." She pounded her tightly clenched fist on the table. Her mouth was trembling now. She bit her lip, refusing to cry.
Harry inhaled sharply, clearly livid, "I am not lying to you Hermione!" he shouted. "When have I ever lied to you?" His last words came out almost as a hiss.
Hermione shook her head as if it would make his words go away. "Oh, it was such a mistake to come here," she shouted in frustration, more to herself than to Harry. She pushed her chair in and clutched her bag, preparing to go, the desire to flee taking over. Harry grabbed her arm, and she angrily tried to twist out of his grip.
"Harry, let me go! Please, let go!!! I need to get out of here. You've changed. I thought you'd at least be honest about what you did. Instead you're playing innocent, and I can't stand it," Hermione yelled. "Ron was completely right about you," she added, her tone icy and cutting.
Harry let go of her instantly and she had to brace herself against the wall to keep her balance.
"What do you mean by that?" he demanded indignantly.
"He said that you wanted all the glory for yourself, and that you would positively revel in the attention you got after you killed Voldemort," she revealed frankly. Her expression was icy.
Harry grabbed the chair nearest to him for support; her last words seemed to crumble his strong façade. He appeared unable to deal with the fact that this was what his two former best friends now thought of him.
"Hermione, you've always supported me, even when everyone else doubted me. Please believe what I am telling you," Harry told her. He gently took her hand, but she pulled it away.
Hermione looked away, she couldn't meet his eyes or it would melt her.
"No Harry. This time I can't. I know that you're lying and it hurts me more than anything. I want to stand by you, but I can't." Tears were now streaming freely down her face.
Harry's face crumpled into an expression of agony. He moved towards her again, but then backed away, as if in defeat.
"Oh, Hermione," he whispered in complete anguish. Something about his appearance at the moment frightened her. He didn't look angry, but rather indescribably vulnerable, much as he when he was sleeping and having a nightmare. What frightened her was how it made her feel; it touched some emotion deep inside of her soul.
"I'm so sorry Harry. Like, I said, I shouldn't have come. Ron doesn't know I'm here, and he would have forbid me to come. This time he would probably have had the right idea," she told him.
His eyes flashed dangerously.
"Yes, go running home to Ron. You both feel the same way about me after all," Harry hissed.
"Oh, Harry that's hardly fair," she interjected.
"Please don't talk to me about what's bloody fair. My life has been anything but that Hermione," he snapped.
"Harry…"
He waved her away, he'd heard enough for the time being.
Hermione frowned slightly, but put her hand gently on Harry's arm. He pulled away from her touch as though stung. There had been very few moments in her life were she had felt so agonizingly torn between two such different emotions. She felt such anger and such sadness.
"Goodbye Harry," she whispered, pausing in the open doorway as she left. He turned and glanced at her. What Hermione saw in his eyes haunted her for longer that he could ever know.
She got outside and apparated home, where she could cry and mull over the disastrous afternoon.
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