Hermione stood on his doorstep running purely on adrenaline. Otherwise she would have never set foot on the porch, or dared neared the house. The house had a creepy air about it that warned visitors away, but inside she knew that it was home. Not her home necessarily, but it was a home.
The house itself and the grounds that surrounded it stood in perfect tranquility. She had imagined in her dreams that upon her return gargoyles would swoop down and kill her. Perhaps she had been engrossed in too much folklore.
She smoothed out her think black shirt before she knocked on the door in three sharp knocks. Hermione half expected a house elf to show up on the other end of the door. Nevertheless Harry Potter appeared in all his glory.
The sight of him merely took her breath away. It had been eight months…almost a year since she'd heard or seen of him. Where she was there was no media, everything passed by word of mouth. He had the faintest hint of stubble on his face, but besides that all seemed well.
He hadn't starved without her.
And while any person would be happy with the thought, she was somehow disgruntled. After eight months she somehow wanted him to beg for her return. But only in her imagination would that happen. There would be no forgiving what she had done.
She snapped out of her thoughts as she continued to survey him. It was far into the night, so it seemed right that he was in his pajamas.
And he was upset…no pissed, she decided. And he had every right to be. Harry's arms were folded stiffly across his chest, his heart firmly guarded. Or perhaps just the pieces she had left him with eight months ago. And not only to him, but to everyone she had broken promises.
There was nothing she could say. What was her purpose here? To see him? Surely not. On her departure Hermione Potter had decided that she was running to be free of him. Hermione chanced a glance at Harry, actually daring to look in his eyes. And what she saw didn't please her at all.
She saw shame.
Hermione's head automatically bowed in regret. There were words that she could say, but she didn't know if he would let her begin. Or if she babbled on about the choices she had made, Hermione had no idea if it would make a difference.
His arms folded across his chest said everything.
"And what is to stop me from calling the Aurors?"
"You would do that to your wife?" she asked.
Her eyes narrowed in her reply. Perhaps now wasn't the time to be playing the mind games that she always had. But twenty minutes in his company was enough to draw up their old conversational habits.
He didn't smirk however, as he usually did in reply. And there were no smiles.
"How dare you?" he responded.
"How dare I?" repeated Hermione testing him. "How dare I what?"
There were a million questions floating between the two. The questions she wanted answered concerning their state of civility. And the things he wanted to know. Why did she leave in the first place? But of all the questions she had asked the obvious. The one she knew.
How dare she wait so long to come back?
How dare she not leave him at the altar, but at the beginning of their new life?
And what about betraying his trust?
"I can't even look at you right now."
He had never been one to speak up for as long as she had known him. Whether it be the quiet of the neighborhood or her ears had certainly acquired a new range she had heard him loud and clear. He was serious and she respected that.
"I don't expect you to."
And through those words she felt her voice cracking. Hermione thought she could be strong through this conversation without crying. Bur she felt the tears about to come and she knew that he wouldn't care.
"You obviously expect something. Why else would you have appeared at my door?"
Hermione opened her mouth to protest, but he held up his hand. Harry no longer wanted excuses.
"I don't feel sorry for whatever mistakes that you have made. I may not have warned you, but you should have seen it coming. And even though you are my wife you have to clean up your own messes."
"I have," she sighed. "I've changed."
Harry let out a small snort.
"Am I a `them' now?" she asked.
Harry hated her with a passion, and she didn't believe this was possible. Her bravery had returned somewhat prompting her to ask what could have been the final question. Perhaps he didn't love her like he did the day they pledged their vows to one another, but his opinion of her still mattered.
It was always friends first and relationship later. Now, it was neither.
"The minutes," he responded. Harry had purposely avoided her question. "You have ten minutes to get off my porch before I'm forced to call the Aurors. I refuse to pay for your mistakes. Not anymore."
Hermione reached out to touch him. His voice had raised significantly, but instead her hands only met the smooth grain of wood. Hermione cursed her luck. She hadn't expected a warm reception, but an invitation into her own house.
He was right.
She had truly screwed up this time. Her only hopes lied in Lily Potter, her mother-in-law. More than likely she was only setting herself up once more for further hurt, but it was worth a try. After all she had betrayed her son's trust.
Hermione walked down two steps and around the ledge and started heaved the bags over her shoulder. She would have to walk a couple of blocks before she found an alley in which she could apparate to her next destination.
She adjusted the straps before and only took a few strides before she heard her name.
"Hermione," called an elderly woman.
Hermione's eyes scanned the second story of the building adjacent to Grimmauld Place. And at once she spotted Mrs. Richardson. She was a sweet old woman that at times reminded her of the grandmother she never had. Sweet Mrs. Richardson would occasionally send over a basket of fruit or some sweet she had concocted in her magical kitchen.
"Hi Mrs. Richardson."
"It's been ages since I've seen you dear. You simply must stop by for tea sometime. Harry insists that you were off in Italy for all this time. I insist that you stop by for some tea."
"I appreciate the offer Mrs. Richardson, but…"
"Don't tell me you're off on another trip, dear. It's none of my business but your husband does require some attention."
Hermione smirked at the elderly woman's insinuation and a genuine smile lit her face for the first time in a while.
"No Mrs. Richardson," she agreed. "I don't think I'll be taking anymore trips in the immediate future. Is tomorrow afternoon to early to accept that offer?"
"Tomorrow at two will be perfect. See you then."
It was the very beginning of normalcy in her life, Hermione decided. Mrs. Richardson had simply opened the gateway for her life's return. And within that minute of conversation between the two women Hermione realized that some small part of Harry still had a soft spot her.
And that she could work with.
Harry was an Auror, and he had every right to take her down to Ministry Headquarters the moment he saw her. In fact it was his very duty to do so. And yet he didn't.
He missed her deeply. His heart had skipped a beat when he opened the door and saw her on his doorstep. His first thought would have been to invite her back into their home but he couldn't do that.
Eight months had definitely been good to her, but had been terrible for him. He had spent this time missing her, berating himself, and spending his days cooped up in this dreadful house.
His life consisted of work and home with the occasion dinner at his parents and the Weasley's. This would only to stop the constant nagging. She probably was unaware but she had picked the worst night to reappear. The eve before his reentrance into the dating world.
Ron had set him up on a date with one of his friends.
Harry opened the fridge grabbing the remainder of the leftovers from his mothers dinner the previous Sunday. Too lazy to warm it up he simply grabbed a fork from the drawer and began eating the meal cold.
He kicked off his shoes once he reached his bedroom landing on the bed successfully munching on the food carefully as he settled comfortably into his thoughts. Perhaps tomorrow he could just forget this ever happened.
He remembered her departure strongly.
"Hermione," he sighed.
It had been a long day. He loved being an Auror for the missions, not the paperwork. And so at the end of the month when all paperwork was due he found himself swamped trying to recall through a Pensieve how each mission took place, who was apprehended, or why it failed.
Needless to say he was in for some relaxation.
"Hermione?" he asked once again.
She should have been home by now. Hermione worked at St. Mungo's but still had regular hours as she simply helped run the main desk on the floor. He decided that he would stop by St. Mungo's to see if she had stopped to visit patients.
Harry passed by the cage of Aphrodite and opened it letting her roam free. He walked further until he arrived at the kitchen counter where all mail was stored. He flipped through some of the bills and the letter from his parents.
He knew it was inviting them to yet another family dinner.
And there it was. A note from Hermione.
All he had to see was that big handwriting, and he knew it was from her. Harry carefully unfolded it and read the message his eyes scanning the page. He crumpled it not long after he had read it. Throwing it in frustration.
"Damn," he sighed.
Dad contacted me. He needs help. I have to.
Her father was nowhere near a good man. Hermione freely admitted that to anyone that would listen. No one knew how the Granger family's turmoil had come about, but it was a disaster. They were a formerly muggle family imbued with magical powers by the Dark Lord himself.
Hermione's mother had died trying to get her out of that situation. She understood that the life her father lead was no place for a young girl to grow up. And now her efforts were futile.
Hermione's father had a puppet like effect over his daughter. And he used it to his advantage whenever necessary. She was his wife, and it made the most sense for him, a top Auror to travel the world in search of her.
But he determined right then and there that he wouldn't do it. She had to learn for herself that she couldn't go through life trying to gain whatever this man had to offer. He was saddened by it, stricken with grief. They had not been married long…less than a month…and off she flew.
Harry pinched the bridge of his nose. He couldn't believe after all the time that had passed that he could even recall what he was thinking in the moment. His thoughts on the situation hadn't changed much.
He still believed that she was a troubled individual. Perhaps he had been to blinded by love to realize how messed up her life really was. He had been fooling himself, but was not going to do that once more.
Harry could see it in her eyes that night. Hermione still loved him. And with that thought in mind he didn't know quite how to feel about that yet. He never stopped loving her, but had simply shut off all emotion towards her.
And yet through that look she still wanted approval. She wanted him to say that he would forgive everything in an instant and pick up where they left off barely two weeks after they had entered their marital home.
It wasn't going to happen. He wasn't sure if it could happen.
He must have laid there for hours thinking about her as if they were dating once more. And before he knew it time had flown by. The muggle alarm clock buzzed lowly jolting him out of his thoughts as he fell to the floor in a jumble of sheets.
"Work," he sighed.
He propped up on his elbows wondering how he would get through the day.
A/N: Review are greatly appreciated. Both good and bad are welcome.
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