Its Not Over by crystalline_blades

Rating: G
Genres: Romance
Relationships: Harry & Hermione
Book: Harry & Hermione, Books 1 - 6
Published: 04/07/2007
Last Updated: 28/07/2007
Status: In Progress

When Harry vanishes after killing Voldermort for a long time, can Hermione convince herself that
it's all really over? Not a songfic although I used a song name for its title. Please
review!




1. Time To Say Goodbye
----------------------

**Disclaimer: I do not own the characters of Harry Potter but I do own this plot. The title is
taken from a song by Chris Daughtry, Its Not Over.**

**Author’s note: This is dedicated to Glenda, Joanna, and Maxine.**

The small fire crackled almost silently, its brilliant orange flames casting the rocks around
the three of them, into dark spiking shadows that grew and flickered. The sky was slowly growing
darker by the minute, different shades of blue painting the once orange sky. The girl glanced
around her, and out at the other hills that surrounded them, which looked cold and foreboding in
the dark and was immediately glad of their cozy little alcove and the fire. Her chestnut curls
shone in the firelight and she then shivered ever so slightly, but otherwise did nothing to betray
the fact that she was absolutely freezing.

But before she could wrap her arms more tightly around herself, her two best friends seemed to
almost move on cue, the tall redhead picking up a stick by his side and jabbing at the fire
carelessly, sending up another shower of sparks and making the fire crackle to life once again. The
other, yanked off his sweater with an easy grace, ruffling his already messy raven hair and passed
it to her. She felt almost warm for a second, knowing it wasn’t the fire or the sweater. She knew
how lucky she was to have such great friends, friends that could almost seemingly read her mind at
times and was grateful for them.

Hermione Granger tugged the sweater over her head, snuggling in it for almost a split second,
enjoying its wooly softness and the scent that always seemed to linger on Harry, one that could not
be defined but if she wanted to be all poetical about it she would have described it as being the
‘scent of the wind’. Maybe it was.

She snuck a quick look at him. He looked so much like the youth she had always known since
young, although it had seemed he was almost forced to grow up too quickly under the circumstances.
The shadows under his almost hollow emerald eyes made her heart twist painfully. It wasn’t fair
that he’d had had to bear such a heavy burden ever since young. That look in his eyes had always
scared her, especially of late. It made her feel as if that she was helpless, in some respect she
was. She knew that no matter how much she’d wanted to help him, this she could not help him
with.

This being, the final battle with Voldermort tomorrow. They’d come so far, destroying most of
the Hoxcruxes they’d found, and now here they were. The final Hoxcrux lay below them in a smaller
cave at the foot of this hill and the battle over it with Voldermort was inevitable. The journey
had been long, hard and sometimes frustrating, but Hermione was just glad that to know that she had
done all she could to help him in this hunt.

Although she knew very clearly she could not fight this battle for him, but she did know that
she could and she would be with him to the end.

Just then, almost as if he was reading her thoughts once again, he twisted in his position to
give her another rueful smile. “Am I giving you that scary smile again?”

His smile was so infectious; Hermione couldn’t help but find herself smiling back at him. This
was definitely the Harry she knew and loved. “No, you aren’t. At least not anymore.”

He chuckled deep in his throat before turning to Ron who was watching them with a half-bemused,
half- knowing look. “Is she lying?”

“No she isn’t.” The redhead teased, pretending to seriously consider the question, picking up
the stick to poke the fire once more. “At least I don’t think she is.”

“That’s good then.” Harry reached out for his pack. “I seriously need some water; I’m dying of
thirst here.”

It might have seemed like a completely normal conversation to any outsider but only the three of
them knew what they were truly doing: avoiding the subject of what was going to happen the next
day. Their future was already uncertain as it was and discussing such things only made all of them
feel worse. Sometimes, Hermione mused, ignorance really was bliss. She idly watched Harry open his
canteen and watched as he lifted the bottle to his lips, ready to take a sip.

But he paused and turned his head to look at her. Breaking out into another of his famous
smiles, Harry proffered the bottle to her instead.

That was just like Harry, Hermione smiled in silent gratitude, always thinking of others first.
The first sip of water tasted almost odd, but then they’d been trekking in the mountainous area for
Merlin knows how long and it wouldn’t have surprised her if some of the dirt had gotten into the
water. She then offered the bottle to Ron who gulped it down like it had been the first sight of
water he’d seen in many days.

“Thanks, Harry.” Hermione, upon turning her attention back to warming herself up, did not notice
that Harry had simply capped the bottle once again without taking even a sip like he said he had
needed.

Hermione was quiet as she stared once more into the flames. Tomorrow would be a day whereby
their fate would be decided. Tomorrow would be the final battle. Tomorrow would be the day she
would have to confess her feelings to Harry…before she’d never got the chance to do so ever
again.

She shivered once again, although this time not due to the cold, but out of sheer nervousness.
She rubbed her hands together, wondering how he would take the news. Would he simply stare at her
and reply that he’d never felt the same way? Or would he sweep her into his arms like she’d always
hoped he would, kiss her and tell her he had loved her too?

Only time would tell.

Beside her, Ron began to stretch elaborately and yawn. Seeing him do that, made Hermione very
conscious of the fact that she was too, very, very, sleepy for some reason as she struggled to keep
her eyes open. Maybe the climbing today had actually worn her out more than she’d thought. She too,
yawned widely, lying on her back in the dirt. Ron was already half- asleep, his head propped
against the jagged rock wall and mouth slightly agape.

Her eyelids were fluttering shut of their own accord no matter how hard she tried to keep them
open. But still she struggled to formulate what would be her final words with Harry, although she
didn’t know it at the time.

“Harry?” She called sleepily.

“Mmm.”

“Go to sleep.” She murmured, her eyelids already shut but still forcing herself to speak.
“You’ll need it for tomorrow.”

“I will.” His voice sounded oddly strangled, she mused dreamily. But she was too tired to
actually figure out why.

“Don’t worry. We’ll…. We’ll be with you…. till the end.” Hermione mumbled, her voice beginning
to slur. Merlin, she didn’t know that she had been that tired but the sleep was calling her, almost
claiming her. “Good night, Harry.”


And with that, Hermione surrendered herself to the beautiful, dark sleep that claimed her into
its folds…

Harry glanced back at her, sound asleep in the firelight. He turned away to look out into the
inky darkness of the night sky which was dotted with tiny, twinkling dots and sighed. He hated to
do this. Really he did. But he had no choice. He didn’t want to drag them down with him. Hermione
and Ron both deserved a chance to lead their lives normally. They’d sacrificed enough for him and
he wasn’t going to deprive them of any more. He wasn’t going to let his responsibility drag the
both of them down.

It was time to go, to say goodbye.

**So?** **What do you guys think? *hint* I promise to update really soon if I get a lot of
reviews!** **J**



2. While You Were Sleeping
--------------------------

**Disclaimer: I do not own the characters of Harry Potter but I do own this little
plot.**

**Author’s note: This is for Melissa, my BFFFF.**

*There were people, strangers running away, past her. Screams of fear and terror sliced
through the still darkness, sharp and putting her every nerve on end. Curses were shouted and in
the distance she could almost see the red sparks of the curse twinkling as they hit their victim,
the threat of death hanging over the area.*

*And there they were. Heading in her direction. She tried to run, only to find that she
couldn’t. The masked Death Eaters chanting grew more mechanical and menacing as they advanced on
her. One of them pulled out his wand, aimed it at her heart and uttered the Unforgivable without a
trace of emotion. She could hear herself scream as the green light shrouded her, surrounded
her…*

“No!” Her eyelids flickered open sharply and Hermione found herself waking up in a cold
sweat.

She sat abruptly, inhaling deeply, trying to calm her racing heart. Merlin what kind of dream
had that been? She replayed those scenes in her mind, trying to make sense of it all and sighed. It
seemed as if all of her dreams had been filled with chaos, terror and most importantly fear of late
but this dream had definitely been the worst. Hermione shuddered slightly as she remembered how
that flash of green light had seemed so real. She prayed it would never ever happen to Ron, her or
Harry.

She glanced out of the mouth of the alcove and frowned slightly. It was a beautiful day. The sun
was shining brilliantly in the cloudless sky, bathing the mountains in a sheet of thin sunlight.
But something didn’t feel so right, Hermione thought as she got up. The sunlight was too strong,
the mornings in this area was usually freezing like mad. It felt more like afternoon to her. Was
it? If it was, how could they have slept in? What if Voldermort had already been here, taken the
hoxcrux and….

Harry. The corner of the alcove that he usually slept in was empty. Immediately, she felt a wave
of panic wash over her and tried to quell it as quickly as it had come. She was just being silly.
There was no way that Voldermort would have been able to get to Harry. After all, Hermione and Ron
would have heard the commotion. The dream must have shaken her pretty badly. But still, a feeling
of worry set in as she glanced over once more at his empty corner.

I’m sure he just went to check that the Hoxcrux was safe, Hermione told herself firmly, and let
us sleep in for a while more. That would be like Harry. She tried to smile at the thought, only it
felt forced and made her feel decidedly more worried.

Casting one worried glance out at the sky again, she slid back the sleeve of Harry’s sweater to
look at her watch. What she saw intensified her suspicion and worry. No, it couldn’t be. But yet it
was. Her watch read that it was the 12th of November. But today should have been the
11th. Her watch couldn’t have been broken, it was working fine yesterday. Which meant
that….

They had been asleep for two whole days.

But that was impossible. Harry wouldn’t have even been able to sleep for an hour, let alone two
days. Neither would she and Ron despite them being extremely exhausted.

She stared out at the mountains, not really seeing, as she wondered. And then it hit her.

“No,” She whispered. “It can’t be.”

Taking a few quick steps towards Harry’s pack which lay on the dirt floor as it usually did, she
prayed that she would be wrong about this for once. Kneeling down beside it, she undid its flap and
checked its contents. There were several essentials missing, things Harry would not have left
without like Sirius’s hunting knife among others.

She sat back on her heels, her horror and feeling of dread intensifying by the second. The
bottle she and Ron had drunk from the last night they had been with Harry was now lying empty on
the dirt floor. Slowly, she uncapped the bottle and took a cautious sniff.

The bottle dropped from her hands and onto the dirt floor. *No. Please let me be wrong*,
she pleaded silently as she ran to Ron’s side.

“Ron!” She shook him agitatedly, aware that her panic was now influencing her every move. “Ron,
wake up!”

The redhead opened one gluey eye wearily. “Hermione?” He sat up, rubbing at his eyes, voice
heavy with sleep. “What’s going on?”

“Harry’s gone!” Hermione burst out, finding herself scarily near tears. “He must have put some
sleeping draught into our water last night, we’ve been sleeping for two days so that he could get
rid of Voldermort himself and now he’s gone!” The panic and worry she’d been feeling had now begun
to spill over into her voice.

“What?” She could see that Ron’s brain was trying to register all this at once. “Harry’s gone?
Why?”

“I don’t know.” Hermione stood and walked over to the mouth of the alcove. “It’s just a
hunch….but… but… I think I’m right.” She felt ridiculous as the tears burned in her eyes and she
roughly used her hand to pass over her eyes. This was no time for tears.

“No bloody way.” Ron was awake now as he too stood and moved to stand beside her, scanning the
area. “Harry would never do that.”

That had been her sentiments exactly. Harry wouldn’t have abandoned them. Not in a million
years. Inside her, almost unbidden, a small spark of hope ignited. Maybe she had just been making a
big fuss about nothing. Maybe Harry was safe, down at the little cave, standing guard over the
Hoxcrux, and waiting for Voldermort right now.

“Let’s just calm down and think about this.” Ron said in a soothing voice. “You didn’t see Harry
this morning, is that all?” The way he said it was meant to be kind and comforting but Hermione
felt that it was more of patronizing. But then again, it had been stupid, she thought sheepishly to
herself. She’d just woken up, seen that Harry was gone and immediately assumed that he had left
them to fight Voldermort on his own without verifying it.

“No, I didn’t.” Hermione gratefully found that her voice was growing much steadier and calmer.
“Maybe we should just take a quick look around the area in case he’s nearby.”

“Good idea.” Ron began to carefully edge his way down the gentle slope of the hill, avoiding any
loose boulders and clinging carefully to the crevices in the rock. Hermione followed suit, and a
while later, carefully descended next to Ron, half-sliding and half-stumbling as she did so.

“I’ll check the cave.” Ron called over his shoulder, sprinting towards the mouth of the cave.
“Look around and see if you can find anything.”

Hermione nodded in response before she began a short walk towards the end of the plateau. All
around her was merely other mountains, pinnacles of some kind (she never was any good at geography)
and other than that just flat land. She glanced around, trying to spot any thing that was out of
the ordinary, but everything seemed just the way it did when they had come a few days ago.

Finally she reached the crumbling edge of the plateau, standing as near the edge as she dared
to. Just like it had looked a few days ago, when she looked down, all she saw were swirls of mist
and the faint outline of what must have been a tree growing on the slope of the plateau. Was that
dark area beyond the mist the bottom of the chasm? She listened carefully. Was that faint rippling
and gurgling she heard? There must have been water down there then.

“Harry!” She called, and then fell silent as she heard her own voice echoing off the smooth
walls of the chasm. “Harry!” She called once again and shivered. It wasn’t cold at all but the way
her voice seemed to be echoing all around the chasm made it seem like such a desolate, foreboding
and lonely place. *Harry can’t be down there*, she told herself as she backed away from the
edge of the plateau, *he can’t be*. It was more of a plea than anything else, she knew.

Just as she turned around to begin walking to the cave, she saw Ron sprinting once again towards
her. He looked worried. Hermione inhaled sharply and began running over to meet him. *Please let
it not be something bad.*

“What’s wrong?” Hermione asked anxiously, as soon as Ron was within hearing range.

“It’s gone.” Ron’s breathless voice contained worry. “The Hoxcrux is gone.”

“No,” Hermione breathed, shaking her head in disbelief. “And Harry?” She held her breath, afraid
of what the answer would be.

“He’s not there either.” The anxiety in his voice was now written all over his face. There was a
long pause as the two struggled to keep their emotions in check.

“Something must have happened.” Hermione heard her voice shake slightly, low and urgent. “We
have to go back and get help.”

***************

But when they did get back, what they saw gave them a shock.

The streets of Diagon Alley were bustling, wizards and witches alike practically pouring out
onto the streets from the shops whose windows had been barred shut some time ago. All around her,
Hermione could see smiles, laughs and hugs being shared between friends and family. Some of the
shops lining the walkways had even hung up brightly colored banners above their shop’s awnings,
making the entire scene look more vivid and bright. From one of the shops, an old man was playing a
cheerful tune on his harmonica and some were even dancing to the music, trying to keep up with the
gaily tune.

It was a stark contrast of the Diagon Alley Hermione and Ron had known a long time ago. Shop
windows had been barred shut, their displays dusty. The streets had been eerily silent and only
those who dared to step out of the house, hurried down the street, their heads down and avoiding
other gazes. Diagon Alley had been somewhat a ghost town and now here it was bustling and full of
life and celebration.

“What in Merlin’s name is going on?” Ron hissed as he jostled his way through the crowd, close
behind Hermione.

“I don’t know.” Hermione answered, suddenly very aware that she must have looked a sight, a
large cut on her cheek that was still healing after a run-in with a Death Eater the other day, her
hair tousled and clothes slightly torn. “It seems to be some sort of celebration.”

Ron swore almost intelligibly as he struggled through the throngs of people, trying to keep up
with Hermione. Just as Hermione looked back to see Ron get swallowed up in another group of
revelers, she felt herself being grabbed by the arm.

“Come on ducky! Look alive!” The plump woman who had grabbed her by the arm began to whirl her
around in time to the music. “It’s over! We must celebrate!” Hermione might have as well been a
puppet as she allowed the woman’s words to sink in as she got twirled around stiffly.

“What’s over?” She had to shout at the woman over the noise.

“Why, don’t tell me you don’t know?” The woman stopped in the middle of turning Hermione around
and appraised her incredulously. “He-Who-Must-Not…I mean, Voldermort is dead!”

*Voldermort is dead.* How often Hermione had hoped to hear those words, those three simple
words that would mean immediate liberation for the entire wizarding world who had been held
prisoner by their fear of this powerful dark wizard who had killed so many. And now here they were.
It was over at long last. She felt unrestrained relief sweep over her entire being that it was
over. That good had triumphed over evil.

Just then, the woman held Hermione out at arm’s length and shrieked so that the people around
them all turned around. “Upon my soul! You’re Hermione Granger! One of the Golden Trio!” Before
Hermione could even acknowledge it or say anything for that matter, the woman had pulled Hermione
into a big hug.

“Oh bless you, ducky.” The woman squeezed Hermione tighter. “You’ve saved us all.”


Hermione felt a rush of warmth at that but it was immediately stamped down by her own modesty.
“I didn’t do anything.” She admitted honestly as the woman finally released her. “It was all
Harry.”

“Harry Potter!” The woman gushed, “He has saved us all as well! Now, where is he, love?
Shouldn’t he be here to join in the celebration? He’s a right hero, he is.” The woman looked at
Hermione so expectantly, as if expecting Hermione to produce Harry out of thin air.

But Hermione wasn’t listening. Shouldn’t he be here to join in the celebration? The woman’s
words left a loud roaring in her ears and she stumbled slightly at their intensity and the meaning
they held. The warm afternoon sunlight was shining down on her but inside, she felt ice-cold dread
begin to spread from somewhere in her gut.

Harry wasn’t here.

The woman must have noticed that something was wrong, and the smile dropped off her face as a
concerned expression appeared instead. “What’s wrong, love?”

Ron had appeared at her side by now. “Hermione?” he tried, noticing her pale expression. “What’s
wrong?”

“It’s Harry.” She could hardly force out the words, didn’t even want to. Maybe if she didn’t say
it, it wouldn’t be real. But deep down she knew that somehow it was the truth and would be even if
she didn’t say it. Hermione lifted her haunted brown eyes to meet his worried blue ones. “He’s
gone.”

**Okay, that was a really long one. Hoping you all liked it…please review and let me know what
you thought of it. I promise to try and update ASAP.**



3. The Truth Never Lies
-----------------------



**Disclaimer: I do not own the characters of Harry Potter but I do own this little
plot.**

**Author's note: This chapter is for Yuner, who I can always go to when I need help in my
fics, even if she is from a different ship. Thank you dear!**

*The Boy-Who-Lived No More?*

*Harry Potter: Dead Or Alive?*

The Daily Prophet and Witch Weekly all had headlines like these right now, and she was seriously
getting sick of them. Hermione folded the newspaper so that the headline wouldn't show and
flipped the magazine so that it was face down. Since the time they'd been back, they'd been
bombarded with requests for interviews but Hermione and Ron had refused everything and now the
speculations were getting wilder by the day.

Dropping the newspaper on the floor, she sighed, leaning back in the plush wing chair. For about
2 weeks now, they'd been back. And still there had been no sign of Harry. It was almost as if
he had dropped off the face of the earth, which Hermione was almost inclined to believe at times.
It felt almost surreal at times that this whole nightmare involving Voldermort was over at long
last.

But another one had begun.

Standing up, she headed up the creaky stairs of Grimauld Place to her room to change into
something more suitable. Since Harry had been declared missing, the entire Order, along with
Hermione and Ron had been going back to search for Harry, for anything that might have indicated
where he went. The Minister for Magic had even sent along some Aurors to help in the search but so
far the whole thing seemed to be a waste of time.

She knew that he wasn't dead, after all the prophecy had already said that one would live
while the other died. And since Voldermort had perished, shouldn't Harry have been the one to
live? *It really is ironic*, she mused bitterly, *how you think death is the worst possible
thing that could happen to you when it isn't. It's knowing that your best friend that you
loved since Merlin knows when is out there, not dead but gone.*

************************

Hermione carefully clambered up the gentle slope again, using the familiar footholds in the
rock, and grabbed the ledge of the alcove to pull herself up. From where she was standing she could
see the other Aurors and members of the Order walking about, hunting for any trace of Harry.

When she'd been searching, a terrible part of her almost wanted to find him, badly
injured…or even dead, so that she'd know exactly where he was. That thought had come so
suddenly that she'd been so shocked at it, that she'd stopped in her tracks, overwhelmed by
its intensity. A concerned Auror which had been hovering nearby had immediately asked if she was
alright.

Hermione had struggled to regain her composure and managed to reply that maybe the sun was
getting to her and that she should sit down somewhere. But that wasn't the truth she'd
known. She'd just wanted to think things through.

*He's not here*, she wanted to say, *I looked. I know he isn't*. But deep
down, Hermione Granger wanted to be wrong about something, about this. She wanted to be wrong for
the first time in her life, that the Order or the Aurors would find something she had missed,
something she had overlooked. This was one thing she wanted to be mistaken about.

She moved to lean against the inner rocky surface of the alcove, knees drawn up tightly to her
body, and arms wrapped tightly around them. Glancing around the cave, it almost seemed as if
nothing had changed, almost like the day they had arrived. Their backpacks were still placed around
the different corners of the alcove, the remains of the small fire no more than a pile of twigs,
mostly charred and burnt.

Slowly, she reached out to pull one piece of twig from the pile, dislodging all of it. The wind
blew gently, the remnants of the charred pieces flying with it, deeper into the alcove. Hermione
sighed and tossing the twig to the floor of the alcove, crawled silently to where she had been
sitting the other night. The smooth rock they'd built their fire on now had a charcoal ring
around it, somewhat smudged. She let her gaze travel along the smooth rock floor.

And she saw it.

Carefully shifting her weight to her knees, she stared at the words, which had been crudely
written in charcoal, probably using the burnt end of one of the twigs. Despite it looking rather
faint now, she could still make out the two words, written in Harry's familiar scrawl.

*I'm sorry.*

She stared at the two words for the longest time, not letting them register. *I'm
sorry.* She gently brushed the pads of her fingers across the two words, smudging them slightly
as she did so, a light shade of charcoal staining her fingertips. *I'm sorry.*

*Sorry doesn't change the fact that you drugged us, went to fight the biggest battle of
your life and practically jump**ed* *off the face of this bloody earth.*

She didn't notice she'd said them out loud and that she'd swore. Hermione never
really swore, but this time, she was too frustrated and upset to care. All her feelings began to
surface once more and the two words began to blur before her eyes, forming a streak of black behind
her film of tears.

She was angry. Angry at Harry for leaving them behind, for going off on his own to fight
Voldermort. How could he? Didn't they promise to always stick together till the end? She was
upset. Upset that he didn't care enough to even tell them that he was going to do this on his
own, that he didn't care to explain where he had disappeared to but only an apology. Hurt that
he'd vanished without saying goodbye.

She sighed as she looked up and blinked hard, not allowing the tears to fall. *I wont*, she
told herself, *Harry will come back. He will*. She forced a smile, trying to feel more
positive about this entire thing. *He's probably just waiting for this entire hullabaloo to
die down before coming back. You know how he hates the media.*

*But then why didn't he write you? Or Ron for that matter?* The tiny voice in her head
almost sounded smug and knowing. *Wouldn't he have at least written to say that he was
safe?* Hermione tries to silence the voice but it went on, almost mocking. *You're lying
to yourself. You know Harry might not ever come back.*

The thought was almost too terrible to entertain. “No, I don't.” She whispered almost
half-afraid as if this might come true. “He will come back. I know it.”

*Are you sure?*

**Okay this is slightly shorter than the second chapter but I hoped you guys liked it still.
Please review and let me know what you guys thought yeah?**

-->



4. Moving On
------------



**Disclaimer: I do not own the characters of Harry Potter but I do own this little
plot.**

**Author's note: I'm really sorry it took so long for this chapter to come up. But I
hope you guys like it. For M, who was the inspiration for Damien.**

The cold, stiff breezes of autumn danced down the granite street walks, ruffling the red-golden
leaves on the trees easily, taking some away and leaving some to float to the ground. The street
was already littered with countless maple leaves as it was. A tall, red brick building stood on the
side of the street, imposing and stern, especially with the wire fence that surrounded it.

A tall man with dark hair and steely grey eyes leaned impatiently in the cold against the fence,
hands stuffed in the pockets of his jacket for warmth. He shifted his weight from one foot to
another imperceptibly, hoping to keep warm. Carelessly, he pulled one of his hands from his jacket
pockets to check his watch, only to stuff it back in and sigh, his breath making little puffs in
the freezing air.

Just then, a loud, jangling bell sounded, its shrill ringing slicing through the stillness of
that morning, making a relieved smile cross the face of the man. He straightened easily, just as
throngs of students came bursting out of the doors of the building and out onto the sidewalks. He
scanned the crowd for her, and smiled as soon as he had caught sight of her, giving her a small
wave. She descended the stairs and walked over to him, smiling slightly as he gave a quick peck on
the cheek.

“Hey,” Damien smiled, motioning for her to give him her bag which she gratefully did, as it was
bulging with medical books, quills and parchment. “How was your day? Did your professor like your
essay on the effects of lacewing in a potion?”

Hermione Granger smiled back, her hands stuffed in her jacket already. “Yeah he did,” She
frowned slightly, brow furrowed. “But then again, maybe I did write that essay a little longer than
he expected. But are two rolls of parchment more than what he asked for a little overboard?”

“No, not at all.” Damien reassured her, reaching out for her hand as he did so. “Shall we go to
Lila's for some coffee? I think I just lost my nose to the cold, just waiting for you. Its
either that or I've become a snowman.”

Hermione smiled, but slightly distractedly. She had had a lot of things on her mind lately and
it had not just been her essays that were due at the medical college she was now attending so that
she could become a Healer at St. Mungo's. It had also been Ron and Luna's wedding, and
Harry. But so far, she didn't feel that it was right to discuss her issue with Harry with
Damien, at least not now.

*It's been a long three years*, Hermione thought ruefully, as she let her breath come
out in a long sigh. Three years since Harry had gone missing. The searches had all proved futile
and the Order, the Aurors, Ron and herself had had to give up eventually. It had been hard to get
her life back on track for a while. Nothing had seemed to cut through the blanket of sadness,
regret and hurt that had shrouded her for a while and Hermione who had always loved studying, could
hardly even bring herself to read but spent all day just doing nothing but thinking.

*Merlin knows I've been doing too much of that lately*, she thought wryly, as her lips
curved in sad smile.

But then all that had changed when Professor McGonagall had appeared at Grimauld Place with a
piece of news for Hermione. The headmistress of Hogwarts had managed to get Hermione an interview
to enter the very prestigious college which trained Healers. All Hermione had had to do was just to
pass the written entrance test and get through the interview and she would be studying at the
college.

Although Hermione had not finished her last year at Hogwarts because she had taken the year off
to help Harry with his hunt for the Hoxcruxes, Professor McGonagall had specially approached the
headmistress of the medical institute who had been an old friend and personally assured the
headmistress that Hermione had been one of the smartest witches at Hogwarts and she was more than
happy to help Hermione catch up with the work she had missed in 7th year before allowing
her to try out for the medical institute.

It had felt a little odd, getting back into the habit of studying again but it had allowed her
to get her life back into a semblance of order once more. She began to feel better, almost normal
in some sense, and after she had sat through the tutorials with McGonagall for her 7th
year work, Hermione was more than happy to have been accepted into the medical institute where she
had quickly risen to top her class as she had done in Hogwarts.

Ron too, had taken those tutorials and graduated with surprisingly good NEWTS…enough for him to
enter Auror training almost immediately. He was now a full-fledged Auror, and a very good one at
that. He had met Luna Lovegood, one of their older classmates, who had now taken over her
father's magazine, the Quibbler as head editor. Within minutes, he had asked her out and
finally after 2 years of them dating, proposed and she accepted. Hermione couldn't have been
any happier for Ron. He did deserve someone like Luna, who although could prove to be rather
eccentric at times, was a lovely and kind person.

A lot had happened in those three years, Hermione reminisced. And one of those things had been
Damien.

She remembered her first day at the medical institute. At that time, she was still considered a
somewhat celebrity, given her friendship with Harry. So many of the students in the medical
institute had come up to her, just to ask all about her adventures during the Hoxcrux hunt or how
Harry was like and how sorry they were that he was gone. Hermione had simply smiled tightly, a
characteristic feature she'd learned from McGonagall and replied that she had to go to
class.

But Damien was different.

Their first encounter had been in the hallway. Hermione was feeling rather lost, seeing as the
medical institute was such a huge place with so many people. Just as she had decided to flag down a
nearby student, she'd felt a light tap on her shoulder and turned.

“Hey, are you lost?” He'd said, breaking out into a smile. “Can I help?”

And that was how it had all really begun. He had been the first, upon knowing her name, to not
ask her how she was coping with Harry's disappearance or what kind of adventures she'd
gotten into on the hunt. Damien was a year older and had graduated from the medical institute a
year ago. They remained friends for a while, but after that Damien had asked Hermione on a
date.

Initially, Hermione had turned him down. Damien was a good friend…and besides she was still in
love with Harry even if he was missing. But as time had passed, and Harry remained missing and
Damien kept persisting, she'd finally given in. She was still in love with Harry but it was
getting harder to resist Damien. She'd felt so guilty, but as Ron had pointed out, Harry
wouldn't have wanted Hermione to remain a nun all her life for him. He would have wanted her to
be happy, even if it was with someone else. And besides, Harry didn't even know that Hermione
had felt that way about him. They'd been dating for about 2 years now.

That was another one of her problems right now. After three long years, she couldn't believe
that this was actually happening to her. It was almost too terrible to think, but it was slowly
coming true.

She was forgetting him.

She could still remember how he looked, of course. Hermione felt that no matter how hard she
tried she could never forget the way he looked, with his messy black hair, sparkling emerald eyes
and trademark grin. But she was forgetting how he used to greet her, how her name sounded when he
said it, his scent, how he acted when he was cheerful about something, or even sad about
something.

She was forgetting his mannerisms, what had made the mental picture of Harry so real in those
first few weeks when he was missing. It was getting harder and harder for her to conjure him up in
her mind once more, not just as a picture, but as a living image.

She had been so horrified to realize it and tried so hard to remember his every little movement,
every little thing he did. She could only feel a great sense of relief when she did eventually
remember something she had forgotten, no longer the wistfulness she used to remember him with. It
was tearing her apart, guilt at not being able to remember almost everything about him.

Hermione had been so absorbed in her thoughts that she hadn't heard Damien calling her.

“Hermione?” She snapped out of her thoughts immediately, to meet his concerned gray eyes. “Is
something wrong?” She felt like confiding in him, but she knew that he probably wouldn't
understand and discussing it would just make her feel even worse.

“No, nothing's wrong.” She let out a pent-up breath of frustration. “It's just been a
really long day, that's all.”


“Don't worry, Herms.” Damien smiled gently, as he squeezed her hand reassuringly. “We've
all been there at one time or another. It'll come to pass.”

“I know.” Was all Hermione offered as they stepped into Lila's. It was a small coffee shop
Damien had introduced her to on their first date and was only a few blocks away from school. It was
a cozy little bistro where she and Damien frequented to study or just to talk. As she sat down at
their usual spot, Damien stepped up to the counter to pick up two steaming cups of coffee and bring
them over to their table.

Hermione smiled quickly in silent gratitude and lapsed back into her thoughtful silence. It was
almost as if a door had been opened in her brain somewhere where all her problems had come spilling
out. She was so quiet, between her thoughts and her gentle sips of coffee that she didn't
notice Damien's furtive glances towards her and his hand slipping into the pocket of his
jeans.

“Hermione?” She looked up a tad disturbed, her brow slightly furrowed.

“Yes, Damien?” She placed her cup of coffee on the table that was in front of her. “What is it?
I'm sorry I wasn't paying very much attention just now… I was a little preoccupied…”

“No, its fine.” Damien smiled as well, almost nervously. “I…I just wanted to ask you
something.”

And with that, he went on one knee before her, all the patrons of the Lila's and did the
thing Hermione would have never expected him to do.

Which was to propose to her.

“I want to spend the rest of my life with you, Hermione.” He looked as if he would like to say
more but couldn't. “Will you marry me?”

He produced a diamond ring from his pocket that was simple and elegant. Hermione stared at the
stone which was shining in the dim lights of the restaurant. She knew that she was probably staring
at Damien right now, slack-jawed because…well, she'd never expected this. Not ever in her
wildest dreams had she anticipated this.

Damien must have sensed her apprehension, but rather than babbling on like most nervous guys
would have done, said very seriously, “I won't get up until you say yes.”

She could hear the murmurs of ascent in the background, some of the patrons urging her to agree
to it. But that wasn't the foremost on her mind. What was on her mind was the intense look of
hope and determination on his face. The one that she was all too familiar with having seen it on
Harry's face for the past 7 years of her life in Hogwarts…

And just like that, she could see him once more in her mind. It was almost as if some imaginary
door had been opened and now she could see him so clearly. How his jet-black hair always stood up
at that annoying but adorable angle, how his emerald eyes could go from being gentle to being so
intense, like there was nothing in this earth that mattered except the subject he was focusing on.
How his lips always curved in a smile that made her feel slightly dizzy, or how it could become a
smirk that teased her relentlessly. How he always used one free hand to run it through his unruly
spikes when he was nervous or even anxious. How he always smelt of fresh soap and a tinge of
cologne.

The mental picture was so strong, so overwhelming that she didn't even notice that tears had
begun to stream down her cheeks. He looked so real in her mind that she could almost see him walk
through the door of Lila's right now. She was so caught up in that image that she was only
jolted back into the present by the sight of Damien's worried face that now held a tinge of
apprehension.

“Hermione?” He asked worriedly, “Did I say something wrong?” He was quiet suddenly as
realization seemed to dawn on his face. “You don't want to marry me.”

*Yes.* Hermione didn't realize she had said this out loud, until Damien's face
looked up back at her, hopefully.

“Yes, what, Hermione?” His voice was laced with anticipation and hope.

She shut her eyes, willing the tears to stop flowing, willing the mental image that was seared
into her brain to dissipate. She knew she would regret this. But yet it felt as though her mouth
was working separately from her brain, her heart and she could not stop it.

“I will….”She managed to choke out. “I'll…marry you.”

She didn't know why she had said that in the first place. She was so confused. Hermione felt
like she was being dragged apart, by her feelings for Damien and her feelings for Harry which had
seemed to reappear after the mental image had reappeared. She felt so numb; she barely felt
Damien's arms pulling her into a hug, or the cheers of the patrons.

And somehow, it occurred to her that she had probably just crossed the fine line between love
and like.

**Okay, this should be nice and long. Hope you guys liked it and please don't hate me for
doing this** **to Hermione****! I promise everything will work out eventually! Please
review.**

-->



5. Illusions of the Heart
-------------------------

**Disclaimer: I do not own the characters of Harry Potter but I do own this little
plot.**

**Author’s note: Thanks to all the wonderful reviews you guys have given me. I really
appreciate all of them.**

*I will marry you.*

It was as if those four words had opened a Pandora’s Box as soon as they’d left her mouth.

She’d went home, feeling strangely unsettled, still seeing that all too vivid picture of Harry
in her mind once again. She had the feeling that something was going to happen, one of
anticipation, but it felt almost odd how she could feel as though she were looking forward to what
was going to happen, and almost afraid of what was going to happen. The intensity of her confusion
and fear were almost overwhelming, choking her blindly.

But there was no turning back.

Ron was delighted when she’d told him, glad that Hermione had finally found someone to settle
down with, just like he’d had. Only Luna simply gave Hermione an understanding smile, a mysterious,
knowing smile and a hug that made Hermione want to spill out the whole miserable affair to her. But
she didn’t, believing that this was her own mess she had created and that no one should have to
share it with her.

But clearly, she was destined for worse things.

**********

It all started the day when they’d gone to the bridal shop.

Hermione sank down into a velvet-covered chair silently and shut her eyes for a few second. She
was exhausted, having to juggle both her studies and the preparations for her marriage. And it
didn’t help that he was always haunting her dreams recently, leaving her with many sleepless
nights. She’d been in the bridal shop for about 2 hours and still counting and the trying on of all
those dresses which had been either too lacey or too low-cut for her taste was wearing her out. If
she caught sight of another frilly monstrosity, she firmly believed she was going to go mad.

Sighing, she rubbed her temples gently, trying to get rid of the beginnings of what would become
a headache soon. She loved all this preparations, she really did, but it was almost too much to
bear the twinge of guilt she felt whenever she thought of Harry who was occupying her every
thought. Like she always did, she tried to push it away by thinking of Damien, but it never did
work.

Giving a final sigh, she stood up to see Damien emerge from behind the curtain of the dressing
room, dressed in a very dashing tuxedo and a grey silk tie. Forcing another smile on her face, she
walked over to him to adjust his tie which was slightly askew.

“You look great.” She smiled up into his eyes, pulling on the lapels of his jacket.

“Thanks.” Damien adjusted the sleeves of his jacket before looking back at her. His smile
immediately faded into one of concern when he saw how unbelievably weary she looked.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, leading her over to the chair. “Tell me.”

“It’s nothing.” Hermione used her free hand to push back her wispy fringe that had escaped from
her hair which had been in a messy bun, letting out a breath of frustration. “I’m just really
tired, especially with all this and my essays. Not to mention, I haven’t found anything that
remotely looks like me in this shop.”

“Well,” Damien gave her a small nudge. “How about that one?”

Hermione turned to see the assistant holding up a dress that was neither low-cut nor lacey. The
V-shaped neckline of the dress dipped slightly but was still able to pull off the modest effect. It
was made of white satin and it ended in a puddle of flowing pleats that looked extremely elegant.
It looked pretty although simple.

Hermione found herself reaching out for the dress and taking it from the assistant, walked back
into the dressing room where she quickly changed out of her clothes and into the dress. The
material felt cool and smooth as she slid it over her head and zipped it up carefully. She bit her
lip and looked at her reflection in the large gilt mirror hesitantly.

She looked….good.

Hermione had never thought of herself as pretty in all her life. Granted, she was rather plain,
with no features that made her stand out from the crowd of girls. But in this dress, she looked
almost pretty, if she did say so herself. She could feel the first small smile in days, playing on
her lips, looking at her reflection in the mirror more carefully.

The chestnut tendrils that had escaped from the messy bun she’d thrown her hair into this
morning, hung delicately by her nape. Her pale complexion contrasted with the ivory of the gown and
the short flowing sleeves of the gown which seemed to be made of some light material hovered around
her forearms. The bodice of the gown fit her perfectly and showed off her slim curves in a
flattering fashion.

She looked away from her reflection, smiling almost self-consciously and in satisfaction down at
her dress as she used her hand to smooth out some of the creases of her dress and adjusted the
waistline of the dress so it hung on her hips. Her smile growing wider, she looked up once more at
the mirror, her smile becoming shocked….

Harry.

She could see him behind her in the mirror.

But there was no way he could be behind her right now.

Her first instinct was to turn around and see if he was really there. But it felt as though her
limbs were frozen and no matter how she silently screamed at her body to turn around, she was
paralyzed to the spot. He looked at her in the mirror, his green eyes crinkling up into the smile
she’d always known, but this one with an almost tender expression.

She looked at him in the mirror, shocked beyond all reason. Her brown eyes met his green ones,
stunned meeting affectionate. Almost as if she was in a dream, she lifted her arm to touch his
reflection, caress his face. *You can’t be here. Why are you here?* She didn’t speak but her
face, eyes widened and smile fading, spoke her thoughts.

She could see him clearly whisper, “You look beautiful.” She could almost feel his breath, hot
on her bare nape, and it made her shiver at his being so close and the heat from his body passing
through the thin fabric of her gown.

It was almost as if those were the magic words that released her from her state of
paralysis.

She spun around to touch him, to see if he was real…

And he was gone, leaving her to touch the velvet silkiness of the curtain of the dressing room.
Flinging the curtain open, she stepped out, looking around the bridal shop frantically, only to see
Damien getting up from the chair he had been sitting in minutes ago and starting towards her with a
smile.

“You look gorgeous in that dress.” He took both her hands in his, smiling tenderly down at her,
only to notice her frantic and haunted expression. “What’s wrong?”

“I…I…” Hermione was still scanning the shop. Except for the assistant, there was no one else.
There was no sign that Harry had been here. “I just thought I saw….”

“Saw who?” Damien tried, frowning slightly, the smile dropping off his face.

“Never mind.” Hermione extracted her hands from him and tried to force a smile which belied how
shaky she was feeling inside and changed tack. “I like this dress.” She felt shaky and weak inside,
almost as if someone had punched her in the gut.

“I like it too.” Damien’s smile returned, albeit hesitantly. Seeing to not want to make any more
out of her weird behavior, he turned to the assistant and told her they would take this tuxedo and
this wedding gown.

Meanwhile, Hermione was left with her thoughts that left shadows of doubt creeping into her
mind. *Was he really here?*

*********************

“The seating arrangement is nearly finished.” Damien told Hermione as they walked down the busy
streets of London, his fingers entwined in hers. “You weren’t there, so I decided to let my parents
and friends take the left side of the hall. Is that okay?”

“Mmm.” Hermione wasn’t actually listening to what he was saying, but rather thinking about what
had just happened. Had she been imagining Harry just now? Was he just a figment of her imagination?
But he had seemed so real, it felt almost as though he had been….

Just then, she felt an almost odd nudge, that something in her had ordered her to look across
the street and she obeyed without hesitation, not knowing what was ahead.

Harry.

She shut her eyes instinctively, pausing in the middle of the throngs of people walking down the
street who were now knocking into her, praying, silently hoping that she was not going mad, that
she hadn’t just seen him across the road. She barely heard Damien’s voice; it seemed like one of
those Muggle radios that had been badly tuned, fading in and out. No. No. It couldn’t be.

And yet it was.

She opened her eyes to see him standing across the street. Horror and fear began to seep through
her entire being and once again, she felt paralyzed, standing stock-still in the masses of people
who bumped into her as she they passed. But she never took her eyes off him, just as how he was
watching her intently, seriously.

And finally, he smiled. A smile that warmed her heart, a smile that made her feel as though
everything was normal and that he had never gone missing, that he’d been here all along. His green
eyes locked with hers, his smile grew even wider and Hermione felt her lips curving in a small
smile.

Without actually being conscious of what she was doing, she moved away from Damien and towards
Harry, not looking at the roads at she did so. He was still watching her all this while and she
kept her eyes trained on him. She stepped off the pavement and made to cross the busy road.

But someone had taken hold of her arm and was yanking her back onto the sidewalk.

‘What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Damien shouted, drawing the stares of the passer-bys,
anger barely concealed in his shaking voice. “You could have been killed!” Hermione looked away
from him immediately and once again across the road, her heart sinking at the sight.

He was gone.

“No.” She heard herself whisper softly, tears burning in her eyes. Once again, she felt the
familiar sense of loss as she realized that he hadn’t been real all this while, and the feeling of
inane misery and shock. “No.”

“What is going on with you these days?” Damien’s voice had lost its edge of anger and was now
border lining on frustration. “You’ve been acting so weird lately; it feels like you’re no longer
the Hermione I used to know. Sometimes,” He went on wearily, “I feel like I barely know you
anymore.”

She could no longer hide the tears. “I’m sorry.” She choked. “I…I don’t know what’s wrong with
me either. I…I…” She could no longer speak, but let the old grief overcome her as the first sob
escaped her lungs, tears streaming down her cheeks uncontrollably.

******************

Hermione sighed as she turned over in her bed, the once crisp and straight sheets curling
themselves around her legs, the bedspread now crumpled. Finally, with a sigh of frustration, she
kicked off the sheets and swung her legs over the side of the bed, sitting up as she did so.

After her breakdown today, Damien had brought her home, no longer pressing the issue of her
weird behavior. Although he had wanted to stay and keep her company, she had refused, saying that
she wanted to be alone and that she would owl him if she needed anything. Now as she stared at her
hands, illuminated white by the glow of the streetlamps coming in from her window in the deepening
evening light, she felt numbed by the events of the day, too tired to feel miserable or upset about
anything anymore.

She had attempted to get more sleep but this time, her thoughts about Harry were more
relentless, refusing to leave her and leaving her in a state of sleeplessness. Pushing them away
would be futile, Hermione knew, since she had been trying to for the past few weeks without
success. She would probably lie awake in her hot bed, staring at the ceiling until the wee hours of
morning where she would fall into an uneasy sleep.

She stood and slid her feet into the sneakers that had been by the side of her bed and headed
out of her apartment. Hermione stepped out into the cool night air, wishing silently that she had
thought to bring a jacket but deciding against it, crossed the road to the park opposite the
brownstone building where she lived.

She had been there a few times before, just on her own and sometimes with Damien. It was a
simple park, with a playground for the little kids and the requisite greenery that all parks had.
In the middle of the park there was a small lake and around it a footpath. At this time, it was
usually crowded with joggers and couples taking a walk but for some reason today it was rather
empty.

Not that Hermione minded of course. She needed the silence to think this through once and for
all.

She thought back to how she had seen Harry today, in the mirror and across the street. She
recalled how immensely happy and shocked she had felt, just seeing him, as if he was real and then
feeling her heart constrict when she realized that he wasn’t real. Hermione wondered if she had
been hallucinating, if Harry had just been a figment of her imagination. But yet, she had been so
certain that he was real, that he had actually been there to see her. *Am I going mad?* The
thought was so horrific yet absurd if that was really what was happening.

Suddenly, she felt that odd, yet somehow familiar twinge that commanded her to turn around.
*Oh no. Not again,* she pleaded silently, recognizing it; *Please let me be imagining
things. Please don’t let it be him.* Half-afraid of what she would see, she turned, slowly.

And there on the footpath, before her stood the object of her thoughts and worries. He was
standing right in the harsh glare of the streetlamp; the shadows under his hooded emerald eyes all
too evident and the brittleness of his expression making him look so vulnerable, something she
hadn’t seen in him for such a long time.

Hermione didn’t know what to say, couldn’t find the words to make a coherent sentence, but felt
a sudden sense of despair wash over her, too tired to try and figure out if all this was just
make-believe or real.

“Please,” She found herself pleading in a low, tired voice. “Why are you doing this to me?” She
rubbed a hand over her burning eyes. “I can’t take much more of this.” Her voice was unsteady and
nearly cracked as she felt the tears prick at her eyes once more.

“It’s not what I’m doing to you, Mione.” The familiar nickname made her head jerk up to meet his
steady gaze. A flicker of sorrow passed over his features so quickly she wondered if she had
imagined it. “It’s what you’re doing to me.”

The words were so softly spoken, but yet held such meaning that her eyes widened in shock and
she sharply sucked in a breath of air. Could it be that…?

And before she knew it, he had vanished once more into thin air and she looked around to see no
one again.

And Hermione was once again left with the thoughts that she knew would haunt her for a long
time.

**Hi guys. Hope you liked this chapter. I have some really bad news but please don’t kill me
after you hear this. I’m putting this story on pause right now so I wont be updating for some time,
because my exams are coming up and I have to make sure I do really well so that I can make it to
college so I need to focus solely on my studies right now. I promise to update IMMEDIATELY after my
exams are over. I’m so sorry. Please review!**



6. Coming Back To You
---------------------

**Disclaimer: I do not own the characters of Harry Potter, but I love to write about
them.**

**Author’s note: I managed to churn this chapter out when I was taking a study break. I hope
it’s good. I know it’s quite short, but it was the best I could do.**

**For my dear Melissa, who knows the agony of wanting to write fanfics but can’t because of
exams.**

The sun beat down on his back, as the young man trudged onward, his head lowered so as to avoid
the blinding glares of the afternoon sunlight, the sleeves of his worn jacket pushed up and his
backpack swung carelessly across one shoulder. He walked with a slight limp, slowly, almost as if
every step he took pained him, which in some way it did.

His life had fallen into some sort of routine and he was used to it, waking up each morning,
knowing what he was supposed to do. Trek a few miles on foot, stop for lunch, take his medication
and then find a place to camp for the night, get some sleep and then wake up the next day to do the
entire thing over again.

For some people, this kind of monotony would have driven them mad, but for Harry Potter, it felt
good.

It felt wonderful to have his life in some sort of routine, Merlin knew his whole life had been
nothing but one surprise after the other around every corner and he was grateful for the
predictable schedule of each day. He had never seriously entertained the thought of what his life
would be like after defeating Voldermort, not being a very forward-looking person. But right now,
he was just content to know what he was supposed to do everyday.

The hot glare of the sun diminished suddenly as it disappeared behind a few clouds and his
shadow that had been previously in front of his, grew dimmer. Glad for the few fleeting cool
moments, he looked up from the ground and ahead at the rocky terrain.

He never stopped, or faltered except for a few times during the day when he had had to stop for
a quick bite of lunch or a drink from the little stream that he was following. He knew that if he
followed it, he would probably at least, if there was no food, have a source of water. Besides, he
was getting used to the hollow ache that was constantly settling around his middle and sometimes it
made no difference if he ate or not.

Besides, he wanted to get back as soon as he could.

He had no way to tell how much time he had spent in this place. He had watched the sun rise and
fall everyday but had lost complete track of the time, only knowing it had been a very long period
of time that he had been away from them. He tried to hurry as much as he could, but did not want to
aggravate his injuries any further and risk having to spend more time here in order to recuperate.
As he had had no watch to tell the time, he could only guess at it, months, years.

Harry once again found himself thinking about them. They had occupied his every waking thoughts
and his dreams at night since the day he had found himself in this forsaken land. He had thought
about them so much initially, he was almost afraid that if he continued to allow his mind to think
of them, he would go mad before his injuries killed him. They were constantly on his mind, what
they were doing right now, how they must have felt when they saw him gone.

But there was always one thought that was most foremost on his mind, one that needed an answer,
an answer that Harry was afraid to know.

Had they forgotten him?

That thought was plaguing him continually. He had always tried to push it away but yet it had
always remained, unbidden and taunting. It was too terrible to think, it had taken his breath away
slightly at the intensity of the thought the first time it had come to him. But yet, he was scared
of what the answer would be.

He was scared that they had forgotten him, that they no longer thought about him, missed him
even. He wondered if they had moved on, whether Ron had found a job, whether Hermione was
married…

That was another thing.

His thoughts were on the both of them constantly… but yet, the visual image of Hermione kept
conjuring itself up in front of him, in his mind. She was the one he always thought about, rather
than Ron. Initially, he had wondered if this was normal, but later simply dismissed it as missing
her more because she was more sensitive and caring towards him than Ron whom Hermione always said,
“had the emotional range of a teaspoon”.

But later, even he hadn’t been able to kid himself.

His thoughts began to revolve more around her, and he found her in his dreams more than he found
Ron. Every time he thought of her, he would then try, with a guilty resolve to think about Ron
instead, but soon found that to be impossible. He was powerless to stop thinking about her. He
worried how she would take his disappearance, how she would react. Would she be angry at him? Would
she never want to see him again?

He thought constantly about what she was doing now, whether she had found a job, or gone back to
her studies. Whether she had a boyfriend or not. Whether she was married or not. Somehow those
thoughts were the worst, making him feel like someone had just punched him hard in the gut. He
eventually learned how to control them, but even so, he found himself wondering if his obsessive
thinking of Hermione was normal.

He later admitted to himself, that he had no longer begun to think of her in a platonic way, but
in a different light. He was beginning to feel something more for her, something that was not
normal between two best friends.

As much as he hated to acknowledge it, he knew it in his heart.

He had realized it during one of his nights when he was struggling with the intense pain he
felt. The medication wasn’t helping very much and it was at these times he found himself missing
her, his heart actually constricting in pain that was comparable to the pain that he felt in his
body.

He realized that he had been so preoccupied with saving the entire wizarding world from
Voldermort that he had never really taken time to appreciate her, all that she had done for him.
The thorough researches on what would help them retrieve the Hoxcruxes, the late nights she’d kept
just so she could read up on more defensive spells that would help them in later battles, the
caring in her gestures when he or Ron got hurt.

And somehow along the way, he had fallen for her, so hard but yet unknowingly.

He increased his pace, wanting to cover more distance before the night fell. He wanted so
desperately to be able to see her again, as soon as he could, to take her in his arms and tell her
all that he had been through, and how much he had missed her. He wanted to be able to see her face
once more, to be able to know that she hadn’t forgotten him.

He needed to tell her that he loved her, before it was too late.

**I hope you guys liked it. I couldn’t just leave the story hanging there for so long and I
know a lot of people requested for one about Harry. Sorry about the vagueness about where he is,
but I’m leaving that for the last part of the story. Will try to update during study breaks, so
keep reviewing and tell me what you guys think!**



7. Never Gone
-------------

**Disclaimer: I do not own the characters of Harry Potter, but I love writing about
them.**

**Author’s note: Thanks so much for all the encouragement you guys have given me regarding my
exams. BUT my exams are not over, they haven’t even started…can you believe it? The previous
chapter was something that I came up with during one of my study breaks and my exams are still
looming on the horizon. But still, I couldn’t just leave you guys like that so I decided to write
this which I know a lot of people have been waiting for. I hope it’s good though.**

The days passed in a blur, her feelings of dread, fear and confusion intensifying with every day
that passed. And that day had finally arrived.

The minute she had opened her eyes, she could feel her heavy heart weighing her down like a
boulder that was going to crush her. She sighed, a lone tear trailing down the side of her face and
soaking into the pillow, as she lay on her bed, her head resting on the limp pillow and her legs
wrapped up in the sheets.

She sat up slowly, trying to hold her emotions in check and headed for the bathroom. Staring at
her reflection in the mirror, she felt even worse then ever, a sick, souring sensation stirring in
the pit of her stomach. Her reflection looked back at her, the tell-tale shadows of sorrow and
exhaustion beneath her widened dark eyes, a stark contrast to the striking paleness of her face
that was almost hollow in a way.

Tonight, she would no longer be just Hermione Granger; she would be Hermione Saunders, a married
woman. She would no longer come home after a long day’s work to an empty apartment, there would be
someone else coming home too. She would no longer toss and turn in her bed alone, but have another
body, another presence next to her.

The very thought of it made the sick feeling spread throughout her entire body, such that she
had barely made it to the toilet to throw up, with an amazing force that surprised even her. Her
mother, who had been passing by the bathroom, had popped her head in worriedly to ask if she was
alright, to which Hermione had replied, rather shakily, that it was just nerves and that it would
come to pass.

But inside, she knew that what she was feeling wasn’t just nerves, and couldn’t even come close
to the ‘nervous, dizzy anticipation’ that all brides-to-be were supposed to wake up to on the
morning of their wedding, according to the Witch Weekly.

She had wanted to call off the wedding, wanted so badly to somehow extract herself from this
bloody big mess she had gotten herself embroiled in but yet, couldn’t bring herself to break
Damien’s heart. Even if she didn’t love him, he had always been there for her, and she couldn’t
bring herself to say the words that would crush his entire being.

She had seen Harry so many times ever since the beginning of her wedding preparations that she
knew, that he was not really there. But yet, each time she’d seen him, he had been so real, so
real, that she believed she could almost reach out and touch him. But before she could prove to
herself that he really was there, he had disappeared.

She found herself missing him more, her mind growing more confused whenever she saw him, her
emotions growing wilder and wilder such that she could barely keep them under control. Sometimes,
the intensity of her emotions scared even her, scared her that one day she would just lose control.
She wondered if she was slowly going crazy and that thought had terrified her.

She had grown so tired of trying constantly to be in control of her mind, her heart, all the
time and all that effort had taken its toll on her. Almost everyone could see it but she simply
passed it off as being a tiring period at the institute.

Merlin, she missed him so much, all the time, so much so that her head hurt, that her heart
hurt, that every fibre of her being ached with the dull pain of grief.

Brushing away the tears that had once again trickled down her cheeks, she struggled to regain
her composure, to keep her emotions in check for one last day. One last day and it would all be
over.

*****************

She sat in the high-backed chair, her hands in her lap, clothed in delicate lacy gloves. She
stared at the Hermione in the mirror, not recognizing herself. The folds of her dress lay cool
against her bare thighs, draping gracefully over her legs to show the toes of her ivory pumps. Her
hair had been swept up into a chignon, with a few curls straying from it and dangling, the tips of
the loose strands touching her bare nape.

Her face was made-up by the professional make-up artist her mom had brought in. It was nothing
too over the top, simple in such a way that it highlighted her best features. Yet, it was able to
disguise the entire mess of emotions that was ravaging inside her at this moment. Throughout her
entire morning, so many people had come to congratulate her on her wedding, they’d gushed about how
handsome and kind Damien was and how beautiful and smart she was, and how they made the most
wonderful couple.

She had managed to push her facial muscles into what she had hoped was a polite and gracious
smile, and it must have worked because no one, except Ron had taken one look at her and gone,
“What’s wrong with you? It’s your wedding day and yet you look as though you’ve just been attacked
by millions of Wrackspurts!”

Ron, she had concluded, with a slight smile, had been spending way too much time with Luna.

That had been her first real smile of the day, and that had been a few hours ago.

Now she was simply sitting here, waiting for her father to come in and take her to the altar.
She felt that familiar souring sensation stir in her stomach, and wondered briefly if she could
make it to the bathroom to throw up in time. It would not do if she had barf all over her wedding
dress when she walked down the aisle.

She tried to crack a small joke with herself, to make the Hermione in the mirror smile but it
fell flat. The Hermione in mirror simply stared back at her, confusion and a deep-rooted sorrow in
her eyes, that made her look away, unable to look at that expression.

She had never wanted anything more than just to get out of here, and run off to some faraway
island where she would never have to worry about Damien or Harry.

But she knew she wouldn’t. She couldn’t.

It was no longer love that held her here, that had ended, stopped abruptly so long ago. It was
obligation. She had gotten herself caught in such a situation that she could almost feel herself
sinking into its depths where she was sure she would drown, or die.

*Where are you?* She pleaded*. Please, come and save me. I can’t do this. I can’t get out
of this wedding but I can’t go through with it either. Please.*

She had not known how badly she had wanted that, or how true it was until she realized that she
was crying again, a tear slipping down the side of her face.

Quickly, she dabbed at it, to prevent the carefully applied make-up from getting smudged and
shut her eyes against the hot sensation of tear pricking against her eyelids. She missed him so, so
much she would have given anything and everything for him to appear right now, for him to save
her.

Just then the door opened and she jerked her head upright towards the door, her eyes widening,
hoping silently that no one would have noticed her red-rimmed eyes.

Her heart sank.

Damien strode into the room, his smile widening once he saw her. She held her breath
unconsciously praying that he would not have noticed anything wrong with her.

“You look gorgeous.” He knelt beside her chair, his hand reaching up to touch her face gently.
She tried not to recoil at his touch, but failed. It was wrong. Everything felt wrong. Hermione
forced her lips to curve into a slight, teasing smile.

“Don’t you know its bad luck to see the bride before you get married?” Her voice cracked,
slightly, to her horror, and when she had cleared her throat to continue, her voice was choked with
what would have been emotion and tears and not the light tone she was hoping to achieve. *Please,
don’t notice.*

It did not work.

“I’ll risk it.” Damien smiled, before it was quickly wiped off his chiseled face and narrowed
his eyes at her thoughtfully, reaching his hand to push away one of the curls that had fallen over
her eyes. “What’s wrong?” He scrutinized her more carefully with an expression that made her feel
even more uneasy, even more afraid of what was coming up next. “Your eyes, they’re red.” His frown
made her hold her breath even longer. “Have you been crying?” The suspicion in his eyes made her
want to break down so desperately but she hung on to that last shred of self-control.

“It’s the foundation.” She heard herself saying, lying so easily. “I’m allergic to it but I’ve
removed it.”

She didn’t move for that moment, praying he would just take it as it was and not push it. She
didn’t think she would be able to take his questions any further.

Damien broke out into a small smile, one that was tentative but it was still a smile, one that
made her release her pent-up breath in a whoosh. “Leave it off then.” He paused before heading for
the door. “You look nice without it anyway.”

And with that he was gone, leaving Hermione with the emotions that made her feel so utterly
scared and vulnerable against its onslaught. No one would have and could have known that she was
that close to her breaking point.

*****************

And finally that moment had arrived. Hermione found herself facing Damien, looking up into his
face which was alight with happiness, happiness at marrying her, she realized with a jolt. And now
here she was struggling to make her expression one of ‘radiant love’, as the Witch Weekly had so
aptly described.

She drew in one more shuddery breath, hoping it would fortify her against the barrage of
feelings that were raging inside her. So this was like to be torn apart by your emotions, she
thought wryly, still forcing the smile onto her face. She felt her face become a sort of glass
mask, one that hid everything, how distorted and confused her emotions were making her feel.

“Do you, Hermione Granger, take Damien Saunders as your husband?”

The man’s words broke through her fog, and she watched as the small circle of rainbow colors
encircled her and Damien, knowing that she had to say those fateful words by the time the colors
changed to purple.

She opened her mouth to speak, but found herself unable to make any sound. The circle was
glowing red, the color becoming somewhat like the Gryffindor Quidditch robes that Harry had almost
worn….

She struggled to make some sort of noise, but found herself almost entranced by the circle of
color, which was now diminishing to a bright orange, one that was so reminiscent of the pumpkins
that had grown in Hagrid’s backyard, the ones that Buckbeak had resided in, the patch where she had
hidden in with Harry in order to save Buckbeak from a wrongful death.

The orange had faded to become an almost summery yellow. Her emotions were now screaming at her,
their words crashing, tumbling and fighting against one another to be spoken by her. She felt
almost faint, sick. She barely saw Damien’s worried look or the congregation stirring slightly,
whispering among themselves.

The yellow melted into an almost luminescent green, one that reminded her so much of Harry’s
eyes, the ones that could always see what she was really thinking, the ones that never failed to
make her feel better when they were gleaming with laughter, the ones that had later scared her so
much when they had lost their spark in the quest for Voldermort…

Just as she was staring into a sea of blue, she felt something nudge her, not physically but
internally. It was so familiar by now, it had become something like an instinct, and she turned her
head towards the entrance of the hall, her eyes widening at what she saw past the wisp of colors
that were going to bind her and Damien for life…

Harry.

He stood there in the entrance of the hall, staring up at her, a mixture of bewilderment, and of
dismay crossing his face, shadowing his features. And somehow, she knew that this time, Harry was
really there. If there was anything that made her even more sure that he was real and not just an
illusion, it was some members of the congregation turning to look at the entrance as well, their
expressions becoming one of shock…

And he turned and ran.

Hermione didn’t stop to think twice. She broke out of the rainbow circlet which had by now
turned a deep purple, not hearing Damien’s desperate plea, just simply lifting her skirt slightly
and running down the aisle, after him. She ignored the crowd’s murmurs, her heart thudding heavily
with every step she took, every fibre of her being praying that that was really him, yearning that
for him, the blood rushing through her veins, leaving a loud roaring in her ears.

She ran out of the hall, turned a sharp left and pushed open the big, heavy doors of the
cathedral and ran out into the sunny streets, ignoring the strange looks the passer bys were giving
her. She looked about frantically, breathing heavily, for any sign of him.

Her heart began to sink once more as an undescribable misery overwhelmed her and for the
millionth time today it seemed, she cried, hiding her face in her hands and running almost blindly
in the opposite direction. She had been wrong. Harry had never come back. It had all been just her
and she was now so sure that she was going mad.

She drew to a stop, the tears still coming fast and furious, destroying the hour long make-up
job that the make-up artist had painstakingly done. Her breaths were coming in pants and she sank
to her knees in the street, no longer caring about how she must have looked.

*Is this punishment? Is this punishment because I never told you that I loved you and now I
have to spend the rest of my life seeing you when you’re not really there?* The thought wrenched
another sob from her throat which felt scraped raw from the sobs that were issuing from it. *I
can’t do it. I don’t want to be able to see you when you’re not really there. I can’t do it!*
Her shoulders shook with the force of her thoughts, almost violently.

Just then, she felt a warm hand take her by the shoulder and pull her to her feet. She knew it
was probably Damien who had done that, but she knew one more thing, that she could never marry him.
She could not be married to him and still feel guilty upon seeing Harry who wasn’t really there.
She could never love him as she had loved Harry.

But for now, she did not want to explain, but to be left alone with her grief that he was really
gone, that she would have to keep seeing Harry when he wasn’t really there.

“Leave me alone, Damien!” She wrenched her elbow from his, with a force that surprised even her
in her miserable state. But the hand held on, moving up her forearm to grasp her wrist, with a
surprising iron grip.

“Please,” She choked out, unable to form any more coherent words than she was able to stop
crying. “Just leave me alone.”

Her sobs came even harder, her body convulsing and her shoulders shaking with the force of her
grief that swept her like a colossal tidal wave.

“I’m not Damien.”

The voice made her jerk her head up from her hand, tears still streaming down it as she turned
it to look at the one and only person it could belong to.

Harry.

His name had come out of her mouth, softly, in a half pleading whisper. She was pleading with
him to be real this time, to not torment her with his illusions anymore. Her large, miserable eyes
met his emerald bewildered yet pained ones. She could feel his fingers holding on tightly to her
wrist. He was real. And slowly, her sobs began to subside almost miraculously as she stared at him,
her eyes tracing his every feature, as numbing joy began to seep through every part of her
body.

Slowly, almost hesitantly, he took her into his arms, brushing away her tears with his thumb,
gently, and lowered his lips to hers in the most tender kiss she had ever experienced until her
thoughts were filled with nothing but him, and him alone.

He was home.

**Okay that was really, really long. There is one more chapter left to go and I might do an
epilogue but I don’t really have any ideas so I’m open to your suggestions. Let me know yeah? And
please review!**