Chapter 6: Disappearing/Reappearing
Author notes: Sorry I haven't posted in a while. I've been on spring break! Whoot whoot! Needless to say, I've learned a valuable lesson about editing with a hang-over (i.e. Don't do it). Sadly, I'm still not satisfied with this chapter, but there comes a point when you just need to post the darn thing and move on.
So, Ok. Thanks for all the reviews. You guys encourage me in a million different ways. And believe me, right now a little encouragement goes a long way. Anyhow, a common complaint has been that the chapters are too short. As much as negative reviews make me cringe, I appreciate the input. It's not like they have a manual for this stuff. So, to overcompensate, this is the longest chapter so far. Enjoy.
On another note, try to remember that the magic in the 1850s was 'old fashioned' and 'different.' Thus far, Hermione doesn't have a wand and Harry doesn't have a broom. That's just how the story unfolded in my mucked-up mind. Hermione does wandless magic. Harry takes the bus. Period. End of discussion *crosses arms and refuses to budge one inch on the wand/broom issue*
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
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After the hasty departure of the Weasleys and Harry Potter, Meriton seemed as quiet and quaint as ever. The Granger household went on much the same as before. Lavender busied herself with dressmaking, Luna practiced her music while Hermione buried herself in the library. Occasionally the sisters would take a turn around the town or a walk in the woods, but with the cold and drizzly weather, they mostly kept indoors.
It came as a surprised to most, but Remus Lupin ended up staying on after the Weasleys left. Aunt Aurora was sure it was because Luna or Hermione had made some sort of conquest; however, after a few days without a word from him, Aunt Aurora gave up all hope of having him for a nephew-in-law.
"I don't understand it," a frustrated Aunt Aurora cried. She threw her hands up and collapsed into a dining room chair. It was the day before Christmas Eve and she knew that if Remus didn't visit today, they might not see him again til after New Years Eve.
The girls wearily looked up from their lunch of cold duck sandwiches and braced themselves for another Lupin-rant. Lavender silently dragged her finger across her throat, a signal that Hermione understood to mean "kill me now."
"I've heard it from Miss Hester, the innkeeper herself," Aurora continued forlornly, "Remus Lupin checked into the Golden Compass a week ago and hasn't been seen since."
"Maybe he's App-arating into his room," Lavender suggested, giggling at her difficulty with the word.
Aurora shook her head. "Miss Hester won't have any of that new-fangled magic at her inn. She's put wards up against it."
Hermione raised her teacup to her mouth to hide her frown. "I'm sure he's just staying with a friend," Hermione said, impatient with her aunt's obsession with Lupin.
"No. He's absolutely not," Aunt Aurora assured her. "Miss Hester's been checking his room everyday, and all his things are there. He's left everything behind. Every. Last. Item. Even his wand!"
"He left his wand?" Hermione asked, so surprised she nearly jostled the cup in her hands. Wands were almost impossible to come by. Hermione had been saving up for years to buy one, and it seemed incredible that Lupin should leave his behind in a dingy hotel room.
"Perhaps he's attending the Winter Solstice Celebration," said Luna. The event was a good twenty miles away, but knowing the sort of debauchery that took place there, it was fairly common not hear from the participants for a good week or two afterwards.
"Remus isn't the Winter Solstice type," Lavender piped in eagerly. "At the ball, Seamus challenged him to a dozen firewhiskey games, but Remus said 'no' every time. He's just an old-stick-in-the-mud. There's no chance he's there." Lavender ignored Hermione's stern glare and continued: "Although it'd be awfully funny if he were. I mean, imagine! Remus at the Solstice Celebration. Ha!" Lavender laughed at the thought of Lupin living it up with the fraternities of wild wizards that attended.
"You're right my dearest. Besides, we would've heard something if he'd gone," sighed Aurora.
"Do you think he's in trouble?" Luna asked with wide eyes. "Or hurt? Maybe we should tell someone," Luna's voice was full of concern.
"No let's just wait and see," Aunt Aurora told her. "We'll give it another few days. The poor man doesn't need a bunch of nosy women following him about."
The girls smiled at the irony of that statement coming from Aunt Aurora.
But Hermione thought it very curious that Lupin should disappear like he did. She mulled it over as they finished their meal in silence.
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Later in her room, Hermione was still turning Lupin's disappearance over in her mind. She didn't think there was anything necessarily sinister about it. Sweet and serious Lupin didn't have a sinister bone in his body, but his absence was certainly odd. She wondered if perhaps Tonks had heard from him and took a piece of parchment from her desk to Owl her.
Her letter-writing was quickly forgotten, however, when Lavender burst through the door and bounded into the room. She knocked Hermione's quill away, grabbed her arm, and demanded that Hermione take her shopping. Hermione tried to shake her off, by Lavender was determined to have her way.
"Oh please," Lavender cried, "I absolutely have to! I haven't done my Christmas shopping yet."
Hermione wrenched her hand free and let out an exasperated breath. The last thing she wanted to do was go into town with Lavender. On their previous little outing, she'd run into both Viktor and Harry. With the way things worked out, she didn't feel like reliving that interesting experience.
"Lavender, I took you shopping just one week ago," Hermione impatiently said. "And since when did your Christmas shopping become my responsibility?"
"Hermione, I never said it was your responsibility, but I can't go into town without you or Luna and
Luna's too busy brooding and you're always so good about picking things out and I really need to go today
because tomorrow's Christmas Eve and if we don't go today I won't have any presents for anyone and then
maybe it will be your fault or Luna's fault and I don't want Luna feeling worse than she does about Ron and I
can't help it that Luna's acting all gloomy and I don't see why you have to be so mean about it because all
I want to do is walk to town and we always have so much fun so what…"
"All right. Fine. Fine. Ok," Hermione interrupted her. Anything, just stop talking…please…for the love of god…
Lavender squealed and jumped into her sister's arms. She then grabbed Hermione's hand and yanked her out into the hallway, squealing and laughing and describing the presents she was going to buy. Hermione put on a cloak and silently followed her sister out the door, hoping that their errand wouldn't take too long.
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Much to Lavender's delight, the streets of Meriton were overflowing with Christmas cheer. The butchers were displaying their prize hams, the bakers were selling gingerbread cookies, and the dressmakers were unraveling spools of red and gold fabrics. But even with the festivities and merriment around her, the day seemed the greyest and drabbest of any that Hermione had seen.
"Isn't this exciting?" Lavender asked as they neared the market.
Hermione didn't answer. It wasn't excitement she felt as she walked along the windswept streets. There was a joyful buzz about the town, but Hermione had trouble feeling anything except the dull numbness that had plagued her since the ball.
At least there's no chance of running into Harry or Viktor this time, Hermione muttered. The regiment had left for Brighton and Harry had gone off to London.
Hermione grimly followed her sister into a rickety old magic supply store. The shop was packed with witches and wizards, and Hermione and Lavender had to squeeze past the shoppers just to make their way to the different counters.
Lavender "oohed" and "ahhed' and stopped at an elaborate display that featured hundreds of floating color-changing ribbons. The ribbons fluttered and weaved amongst each other, resulting in what looked like a slithering ball of rainbow yarn. They came in every imaginable shade and even had holiday themes: greens and reds for Christmas, bright pinks and butter yellows for Easter, soft greens and light blues for the spring equinox. Lavender giggled and poked at the ribbons as they flapped by, but wasted no time in dragging Hermione to the next display which was lined with dozens of spelled Christmas ornaments: tiny bells that chimed on their own, sparkling metal stars that changed from gold to silver, porcelain angels that fluttered their wings, and an array of painted cake and cookie ornaments that smelled like they were freshly baked.
Lavender skipped from counter to counter, gleefully selecting several bright, overpriced objects and debating with Hermione as to their possible merit as Christmas presents. Eventually Hermione lagged behind, and the girls soon found themselves separated by the sea of eager children and exhausted parents.
Hermione took the opportunity to browse through a display of scented parchment rolls. There was nothing really special about them, except their manufacturers had taken a lesson from Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans. The parchments came in vanilla, strawberry, peppermint, honeysuckle, sugar cookie, pine needle, bacon, rotten eggs, shrimp, vinegar, lamb, menthol, carrot salad and a dozen other odder varieties that included sulfuric acid and cattle. Hermione held up a roll, trying to figure out exactly what kind of person would want a cattle-scented parchment, when she overheard two village witches talking in nervous, rustic tones behind her.
"Yeah, well I 'eard that it tore McDowells' sheep to pieces," a tall blonde girl said to her brunette friend.
"The Crumpets' farm was attacked too. Lost three cows they did. Old Mr. Crumpet shot the thing twice and nothing happened," the brunette replied in a conspiratorial whisper.
"Old Mr. Crumpet couldn't hit water if he fell into a creek. Besides, you've got to kill 'em werewolves with a silver bullet," the blonde stated in an authoritative tone. "Otherwise, nothing 'll happen."
"I 'eard if it attacks you, you'll turn into one."
"Nah, you turn into a vampire. "
The girls proceeded to argue the point until they were out of earshot.
Hermione shook her head, impatient with such superstitious nonsense. Everyone knew that werewolves, much like their cousin the Crumple-Horned Snorkack, simply did not exist. It seemed, however, that such things didn't matter where village gossip was concerned.
Hermione frowned and put away the roll of parchment. Werewolves had never been part of the local lore, but apparently that was changing. But whatever the case, a mysterious ravenous creature on the loose was just one more reason not to buy cattle-scented parchment.
"Oh Hermione!" Lav jogged over to her and began shaking her shoulder and pointing out the window where a tall red cloak was standing on the sidewalk with his back to them. "Hermione! Look. It's Viktor!"
Hermione looked, but she could only make out a red regimental uniform and a shock of brown hair. To her, all red cloaks looked alike. She never understood how Lavender could tell them apart.
"Are you sure?" she asked, squinting.
"Of course I'm sure." Lav bounded toward the window, rapping against it until Viktor turned around.
"Viktor!" Lav called his name loud enough for the entire store to hear. "Viktor!" she waved and motioned for him to come inside.
Lavender was upon him the moment he entered the store.
"Oh Viktor, I'm so glad to see you. I missed you at the ball. I was counting on you for at least three dances." Lavender giggled girlishly. "It was ever so dull."
"You seemed to enjoy yourself," Hermione replied dryly.
"Well…" Lavender thought it over, "I did have a good time, but I would've had a wonderful time had you been there Viktor."
Viktor bowed and smiled, but Hermione didn't smile back. She just hoped Lavender wouldn't encourage him to stay too long. His staring made her uncomfortable, and as it was, he was just one more unwelcome reminder of Harry Potter.
"Viktor, you have to help me choose presents for everyone," Lavender declared, as she latched onto his arm. Before he could respond, Lavender pulled Viktor toward a collection of floating glass bubbles and immediately began asking his opinion.
Great, Hermione mumbled. The last thing she wanted to do was watch her sister flirt and giggle all afternoon. Hermione forced a smile when Viktor excused himself from Lav and approached her with his trademark grin.
"Hermioninny. How are you?"
"I'm fine Viktor. How are you?" Hermione asked without any hint of emotion.
"I am very fine." He looked at her earnestly. "Very good now."
Hermione nodded turned to a nearby window, hoping he'd leave, but Viktor remained stubbornly beside her. There was an awkward silence as they watched the shoppers rush to and from the stores.
I should try to make an effort to be sociable, Hermione thought bitterly. After all, he did warn me about Harry. Viktor said he wasn't reliable, and maybe if I had been more guarded, I wouldn't feel the way I do now…she trailed off, unwilling to admit exactly how she was feeling or why Harry Potter was the cause of it. Over the last few days, she'd hadn't allowed herself to think about Harry at all. About Harry or his lovely eyes or his strong hands or his lopsided grin. Nope, no thinking here… Hermione rolled her eyes.
Hermione turned to Viktor with a slight smile.
"How is it you're still in Meriton, Viktor?" Hermione asked politely. "I thought the militia was going to Brighton."
"Zey are. But my unit has stayed on for another few weeks." Viktor smiled. "I do not mind zo much. It seems Harry Potter has left town."
Hermione nodded. "I know. He's in London with the Weasleys."
Viktor paused, studying her face: "From ze way he left, I suspect zat Harry Potter had some kind of romantic en-tangle-ment."
"What do you mean?" Hermione asked uneasily. Her face began to grow pink.
"Harry Potter, vell, he does not like to get bound to a woman. How do you say, 'tied down.' Harry Potter iz probably running from some girl zee seduced." Viktor shrugged, "It iz not unusual for rich men. En fact I heard that Harry has made his friend Mr. Ronald Veasley do the same."
"Mr. Weasley?" Hermione asked, confused.
Viktor smirked. "I heard that Harry Potter removed his friend from a girl vith bad family connection."
Hermione's breath caught in her throat and her hands clenched into fists. "Did you hear who the girl was?" Hermione asked, dreading the answer.
Viktor shook his head. "I only hear from Burrow caretaker that Mr. Veasley is 'safe' in London from the girl, thanks to hiz friend Harry Potter."
Ronald Weasley "safe" in London from Luna? Hermione thought, completely outraged. Luna's home with a broken heart and the whole time Harry's been the cause of it. Horrible man. Worse than horrible. I hope I never see him again, because if I do I'll turn him into a pumpkin…a pumpkin which I'll stomp on til it's goo! Hermione resolved as she tried to catch her breath.
She asked Viktor if he would walk Lavender home and rushed out of the shop and onto the sidewalk before he could answer. She'd never felt so angry and hurt. The composure she'd carefully maintained since the ball quickly crumbled, and she blinked back the tears welling up in her eyes.
Hermione was so upset that she didn't notice when she pushed past a man with messy black hair and a green cloak.
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The crowds roughly jostled her about as she stumbled along the sidewalk.
Hot tears ran down her face faster than she could wipe them away and soon she was blindly making her way through the sea of market-goers.
How could Harry do this to us? To Luna? I thought he cared about…I thought he… A choking sob rose in her throat and Hermione couldn't finish before her thoughts dissolved into a puddle of self-pity.
The winter wind swept her white dress and unruly hair about her and nearly froze the teardrops on her cheeks. Trying to avoid the blustery wind gusts, the villagers around her ducked behind buildings and merchant stands, but Hermione walked on, oblivious to the chill in the air and the painful shoving of the passersby.
The icy howling of the wind finally roused her, and she came to a stop next to a flower cart full of pink witch hazel. Following the breeze, some pink petals shook loose and caught in her hair. Hermione dried her eyes with the edge of her blue cape and took several deep breaths, batting at the floating pink bits of flower. The cold air stung her lungs, and Hermione coughed, feeling weak and faint and completely miserable.
Hermione leaned against a brick storefront, wiping away her tears, shaking off petals, and trying to calm her hiccupping sobs. She caught her reflection in a store window, and for a moment, she didn't recognize herself. The tragic girl in front of her didn't look like Hermione Granger at all. Her dress was disheveled, her face was wet with tears, and her curly hair was windswept and dotted with bits of pink flower.
She groaned and shook her head, absolutely frustrated with herself. If one insanely handsome wizard could turn her into such a melodramatic fool, then she was a disgrace to her sex. She was just as bad as Lavender and Cho and all those other witches who burst into tears whenever the object of their affection found better ways to spend their time. How on earth could she let Harry Potter reduce her to this? To some pathetic, weeping maiden wandering blindly through town square, tearing and worrying her clothes like some biblical martyr. She was Hermione Granger for goodness sake. She wasn't one of those sad creatures who turned their souls inside out for unworthy men. She had far too much common sense and self-possession.
Steadfastly gazing at her reflection, Hermione brushed her hair back and decided to put Harry Potter out of her mind for good.
"Honestly Hermione, grow up," she muttered as she adjusted her collar and fixed her cloak. The girl reflected back at her was already looking less pitiful.
Hermione took a calming breath, feeling thoroughly up to the task of having nothing whatsoever to do with Harry Potter ever again. For the first time since the ball at Pomona Lodge, she was truly glad that Harry was in London where he could do no harm to her or Luna. The city was where he belonged in any case. Far far away in the city. But if, by any minuscule chance, their paths ever did cross, they would meet as common and less-than-indifferent acquaintances. And if, by any even more minuscule chance, they found themselves alone together, Hermione wouldn't hesitate to tell Harry what she thought of him.
"Hermione?"
She heard somebody behind her call her name. Embarrassed and startled, she wiped away the last of her tears and straightened her dress, lest she meet anyone she knew.
"Hermione," the voice was closer now and seemed strangely, horribly familiar.
She froze in the middle of adjusting her cuffs. No… I'm only imagining things, she told herself. It's not Harry. He's in London. He just has to be in London. There isn't a higher power cruel enough to do this to me…
Hermione felt someone gently tap her on her shoulder. She turned and caught a glimpse of a painfully familiar green cloak.
Slowly, breathlessly, she raised her eyes, only to find Harry Potter smiling back at her.
"Hello Hermione," Harry greeted her warmly.
"Hello Harry," Hermione replied with a shaky smile.
Standing only inches from him, Hermione was reminded of just why she considered him "insanely" handsome, as opposed to just "moderately" or "tolerably" handsome. He wasn't simply attractive, he was absolutely gorgeous, what with his untamed hair, and his clover eyes, and chiseled features. She suddenly realized that he was the perfect height for her. All she had to do was step forward and she could rest her head against his shoulder as he folded her in his arms.
They stood staring at each other for what seemed like an eternity. People bumped into them, but neither took notice of it. Without meaning to, Hermione anxiously tucked a few wild ringlets behind her ear and nibbled on her lip. Harry uneasily cleared his throat and rubbed the back of his neck.
Each waited for the other to speak.
Tell him he's horrible. Do it. Glare at him. He'll hate the glare. You're good at it. Go ahead, an internal voice (that sounded suspiciously like Tonks) urged Hermione. But Hermione just silently chewed on her lip, somehow unable muster up her icy indignation, what with Harry looking so bashful and handsome and all.
Harry took a deep breath and finally spoke: "You know, you nearly knocked me over back there."
"Oh?" Hermione sniffled, surprised. "I didn't see you."
"It's all right," he assured her with a smile.
Hermione nodded slightly, not knowing what else to say.
"Here," he said awkwardly. He held out a bundle of yellow winter jasmine. She hadn't even noticed they were in his hand.
Harry smiled nervously. "I thought you'd like them," he motioned to the flowers.
She felt her face grow warm as she took them, but she couldn't help her blush. It was a sweet gesture that had caught her completely off guard. No one had ever given her flowers before, and it was incredibly ironic that Harry Potter was the first man to do so. She brought them closer to her face to smell them.
"They're lovely Harry. Thank you," she replied sincerely, speaking against the flowers. "You didn't have to get me anything," she added softly.
"I wanted to Hermione," he said simply as he locked eyes with her.
She swallowed hard and stared back at him, momentarily forgetting why she was angry with him, momentarily forgetting why she would ever want to be angry at someone who looked at her like that.
Oh for Merlin's sake, stop looking at him, she told herself. Stop it now. Right. Now. Hermione Jean Granger. If you don't stop staring at him I'll…I'll…do something to make you stop.
"Looks as though you have plenty already," Harry grinned.
"Plenty of what?" Hermione shook her head.
He reached up to pluck a pink petal from her hair. His hand brushed against her face as he did so, and Hermione could've sworn that her skin tingled where his fingertip lingered on her cheek.
"Oh," Hermione said, her face still tingling as he tossed the petal away.
The petal fluttered to the ground and an uncomfortable silence settled over them.
"So…how have you been?" he asked, shuffling his feet and looking at the ground in front of him.
She shrugged noncommittally as she kept her eyes fixed on her flowers. She knew if she spoke, there's no telling what she'd say, although "I'm going to faint" or "I like flowers" were the most likely candidates.
"You look well," he said slowly.
When Hermione didn't reply, he swallowed hard and tried again.
"I went to your house to see you," Harry began. "Luna said you'd be here."
"Luna?" Hermione managed in a strangled voice.
"Yes, Luna. Hermione are you all right?" Harry asked, now concerned. He noticed the dried tear marks on her face and took a step towards her.
"I'm fine," she said quickly as she backed away from him. "I'm on my way home now."
"I'll walk with you," Harry offered.
"No, thank you, no. No, I'm…I just have to pick something up first and then … um …leave…I mean, goodbye." Hermione curtsied and began trotting down the sidewalk, not knowing where she was going, just wanting to get away from him.
"Hermione, wait," he called after her. He jogged to catch up with her, but she broke into a run and ducked between the passing townsfolk. Harry could see her coffee-colored curls bobbing through the crowd, but lost sight of her farther down the block.
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Only when Hermione turned onto a quiet residential lane did she stop long enough to look behind her. She gave a sigh of relief when she saw Harry hadn't followed her.
Eyeing the flowers in her hand, Hermione felt the warm blush still on her cheeks and shook her head miserably.
"I just have to pick up something first and then …um…leave…?"
Well done Hermione, she thought. One bundle of flowers and he has you stammering like a school girl. Honestly. You've translated Bathilda Bagshot from the original German and developed six levels of Selnor spells that Principal Pomfrey still hasn't been able to Noxum, but yet you can't seem to string a coherent sentence together when you're with Harry Potter. You're completely and utterly hopeless.
She groaned and began strolling aimlessly along the quiet neighborhood, taking no notice of the soft scent of the flowers or the bustle of the carriages that passed her. The air had a crispness that came right before it snowed and her footsteps echoed on the smooth cobblestones, but she was oblivious to everything except her own sad confusion.
Why on earth did Harry Potter come back to Meriton? And why would he bother talking to me of all people? And more importantly, why is he suddenly buying me flowers?
Hermione huffed.
And just why should I care what Harry Potter does? It's ridiculous. He's upsetting and awful and I just need to keep away from him from now on. And I'll go on telling myself that until I get it through my thick thick skull.
She trudged along in no particular direction until the sounds of the city faded. The flowers hung carelessly at her side and, unbeknownst to Hermione, their loose petals fluttered to the ground, leaving a trail of yellow jasmine behind her. She walked on for hours, scolding herself for letting Harry upset her so.
She forced herself to recount his past rudeness: his comments about her at the Christmas party, his disappearance from the ball, his treatment of Viktor, his role in separating Ron and Luna, his thoughtfulness in buying her flowers, his incredible eyes, his strikingly handsome features, his broad shoulders, his likeable grin…
No! Stop it. That's not helpful at all and you know it! She berated herself.
She restarted her list of why-Harry-Potter-is-absolutely-not-good-in-any-way, only bothering to pause when she heard the crunch of twigs under her feet. Startled, she looked up and groaned. She was on a gravel wagon trail in the wintry forest outside the city. Dead trees and bushes stretched as far as she could see.
"Oh, wonderful. Well done. I've gone and gotten off the road," she said aloud, impatiently looking around.
"In fact, I've gotten off every conceivable road in the city…"
She was well outside Meriton. From the city skyline, she could tell she was about a mile from town. She gave a long sigh and began walking home, finding it a little hard to hurry along the ill-used forest path. She took unsteady steps as she hiked over the twigs and leaves and other debris from the overhanging branches. To make matters worse, her boots stuck a bit to the ground, which was packed with mud and ice from the last frost.
Sunlight filtered through the bare branches of the trees, and she could see the sky was orange and pink with an impressive sun set.
Hermione quickened her pace, anxious to get to town before dark. She remembered the village girls' remarks about Mr. McDowell's sheep, and (though she'd never admit to believing in such silly folklore) her walk turned into a slow jog.
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The sun set quickly, more quickly than she expected, and Hermione's jog became a frantic stumble as a dark dampness shrouded the forest.
The trail was completely black against the night sky and she couldn't see the gnarled, exposed roots that were sprouted up along the path. The full moon offered a little light, but she'd had to Lumos one of the flowers Harry gave her. The simple, wandless spell wasn't very powerful, but the circle of light that surrounded the petals allowed her to see the ground directly in front of her.
"Finally," she sighed as she made her way up a rocky knoll. She saw the faint light from a street lantern and knew she was only a few hundred yards from the outskirts of town.
She'd started towards the light when she heard the sharp sound of a tree branch crack and break behind her.
She froze, suddenly feeling very cold and very alone.
She turned her Lumosed flower towards the noise, but the light didn't reach far enough to see anything. She stood perfectly still, waiting for another sound (any sound) but nothing came. The moon cast shadows over the rickety branches that shook with the wind, and she thought she caught some movement behind a thick oak tree.
"Hello?" she called.
Only an eerie silence answered her.
Wearily she began backing away and before continuing on towards town.
She heard another sharp branch crack behind her. And then another. Without thinking, she broke into a full run.
"Oh dear Merlin…oh Cerce…" she gasped as she ran as quickly as she could. Her Lumos flower slipped from her hands but she didn't stop to pick it up. She could hear heavy, tromping footsteps gaining on her, and her breath caught in her throat as she realized she might not reach city streets in time.
She turned back for an instant, able to catch a moonlit outline of large hairy figure bounding toward her.
She opened her mouth to scream, but nothing came out.
"Oh!" she cried as she suddenly collided with someone. They both fell in a heap to the ground.
When she got to her feet, she saw the figure of a man on the ground beside her. Too scared to explain, she grabbed him by his cloak and tried to pull him towards town.
"Run," she managed in a choking voice. The town was so close…
"Please…" she begged, but he ignored her as he leapt to his feet with his wand drawn.
"Incendio!" Harry cried, shielding his eyes. A stream of fire barreled above the creature, driving it backward. Hermione turned away from the flames, burying her face in the crook of his neck as he held her to him. She prayed he knew how to control the spell. Even the newest Incendio curses had a perilous backlash.
The flames petered and died, and darkness once again overtook them. Her arms still around him, Hermione listened closely, waiting for the creature to attack again. A minute ticked by and, excepting the sound of their own heavy breathing, neither of them heard anything.
Harry took a deep breath and turned to her. "Are you all right?" he asked. From the tremble in his voice Hermione knew he hadn't completely recovered yet either.
She nodded against his shoulder. She wanted to tell him she was fine, but her throat was dry and thick with fear.
He lifted her chin and studied her. She could feel his hand shaking as she looked into his eyes, which were watery and lined with concern.
"Can you walk home?" he asked her gently.
"I don't know," she admitted, but stopped herself. If she could, did he intend to let her continue on alone? She gripped his collar and lifted herself to him.
"Harry, don't leave me," she said softly in his ear. "Please…Harry…"
In response, he hastily scooped her up and encouraged her to tuck an arm around his neck. "I'm not going to leave you Hermione," he assured her quietly. Whether by accident or design, his lips brushed her forehead as she rested her cheek against his shoulder. "I'm going to Apparate you home. Have you ever done that?"
Hermione shook her head. "Is it safe?" she asked. Not that it mattered. She was so weary that any transportation that allowed her to stay in his arms was more than welcome.
Harry nodded and recited the incantation. She closed her eyes as she felt a nauseating pull and heard a strange cracking sound.
When she opened her eyes, she and Harry were in the foyer of her aunt's townhouse. The house was silent except for the sound Hildegard's tiny footsteps hurrying downstairs to meet them.
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"Oh Miss! Miss, what happened?" Hildegard cried as soon as she saw what was in Harry's arms.
Harry answered for her. "She's had a fall. We'll need some blankets and brandy."
Panicked, the house-elf scampered off without another word.
Hermione guided Harry to a nearby study. Harry set her down on a large, overstuffed couch that faced a massive fireplace. Hermione looked on as he wordlessly undid her shoes and cape and wrapped a woolen throw around her shoulders. He muttered a quick spell to light the fireplace and knelt beside her.
"Is that better?" he asked softly as he rubbed her arms to warm her up.
Hermione nodded. She was still in shock, but forced a trembling smile as he stroked her cheek.
He shrugged out of his own cloak and took a seat next to her. He tucked an encouraging arm around her waist, and Hermione lowered her head back to the crook of his neck, too tired to care about any lack of propriety.
Brushing a stray curl from her face, Harry rested his chin atop her head and brought her snug against him. They both took a deep breath and finally began to relax. They sat in silence for several minutes until Hil (anxious that her Miss have everything she needed) brought in several glasses of warm brandy, tea, milk, sherry, wine and a pile of blankets.
"Thank you Hil." Hermione's voice cracked. "Where is everyone?"
Hil directed the floating platter of glasses onto a coffee table in front of them. "Miss, they go to Septima's for dinner."
Hermione nodded weakly. It wasn't unusual for the Grangers to dine with Septima Vector. Aunt Aurora could never resist her spontaneous little soirées.
"Miss Luna think you go see Tonks," Hil explained, wringing her apron. "Should I get Aunt?"
"No Hil," Hermione muttered. She didn't need anything she didn't already have. Her glance inadvertently fell to Harry at the thought.
"Can I get Miss or Sir anything else?"
They both shook their heads and Hil left them.
Harry handed her a snifter of brandy and she carefully sipped it. The warm amber-colored liquor felt wonderful as it soothed her raw throat. The fireplace cast an orange light on them both, enveloping them in some much needed warmth. As she watched it flicker, she realized that the fire didn't offer much comfort. It only reminded her of Harry's Incendio curse. She stared into the flames, reliving those few frightening moments before turning to her rescuer.
Mustering up what was left of her courage, she cleared her throat and set down her glass.
"Thank you Harry," she said gratefully as she met his gaze. She boldly raised her lips to his face and
pressed a quick kiss to his cheek. Blushing, she shrank back as far as his encircling arm would let her.
"You're welcome," he muttered, surprised by the kiss.
"Did you see it?" she asked as evenly as she could.
"See what?" Harry replied carefully.
"That thing that attacked us." Hermione shook her head. "I'm sure I've never seen anything like it."
There was a long pause before Harry answered.
"I don't know what I saw," Harry slowly replied. "But thank God I got there in time." Harry tightened his grip on her and shivered a bit. Hermione wondered if he'd caught a chill and shifted closer.
"How did you find me?" Hermione asked.
"I followed your trail," he said grimly.
"My trail?" Hermione was confused. "What? Did I leave behind breadcrumbs?" she asked with a weak smile.
Harry shook his head and gestured to the bundle of flowers sticking out of the pocket of her cape. "I just followed the yellow bits of flowers into the woods."
"I walked all over the city Harry," Hermione said, shaking her head.
Harry looked into the fire, clearly embarrassed. "I used a spell," he muttered.
"Why go to all that trouble?" Hermione asked softly.
"Your aunt was worried when you didn't come home." Harry stared at the fireplace, refusing to look at her as he spoke.
"How did you know I didn't come home?" Her voice was faint against the crackling of the fire.
Harry turned and locked eyes with her. "Because I waited for you," he answered hoarsely.
"But why?" her voice was barely above a whisper.
He leaned in, stopping inches from her face, staring into her upturned eyes. He was about to answer but seemed to think better of it.
Without a word, he cupped her cheek and kissed her.
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