Author's Note: To be honest, I'm not getting very far in the next chapter of Potential. Lucky for you, that means I'm revisiting this story and adding a chapter for Hermione. She certainly deserves her say in the matter, right?
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Part II: Summer Showers
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Love is innocent and coy;
It sounds like tinker toys.
-Dabney Morris, "Love Part 1: Jars"
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Hermione had never craved solitude so much in her life.
She had lasted about two weeks in the Burrow before becoming exasperated with every member of the Weasley family that still resided there- in addition to exchanging a few harsh words with Ginny and whole arguments with Ron (of course). It wasn't that she didn't care about them or empathize with their grief. But Hermione needed her space, and this all-engulfing `togetherness' was driving her mad.
That stupid, stupid kiss with Ron hadn't helped matters either. She'd really screwed up there. But really, Hermione had just been so desperate to make things right again, and after being mad at Ron for so long for leaving them (it still made her a little angry just thinking about it!)…something about the intensity of what lay before them had given her the impulse to do it.
Too bad Ron didn't or wouldn't understand that.
Though if she was being honest, Hermione wasn't spending that much of her time thinking about the Weasleys at all, except in passing. Harry's apathy was far more startling than her accidental love life with Ron.
She hated being distanced from Harry, figuratively and literally. Probably because they had spent so much time together over the past year, Hermione would always add as an afterthought, because any alternative was simply too much right now. There were funerals to attend and celebrations to visit afterwards (it was bordering on sickening to have to change attitudes so quickly), not to mention just trying to recover from the horrors they had seen at Hogwarts. Being told Harry was dead…she still couldn't think about it.
"Hermione?" Ginny's voice broke the quiet, and Hermione clenched her jaw to keep from expressing her annoyance at the interruption. After a moment's pause, she responded.
"Yes?"
"We're going to Diagon Alley. Want to come?" It was definitely not a warm invitation. Ginny had been cold towards her for the past week, though Hermione probably deserved it a little.
"No thanks. I have a book I want to finish," she fibbed, but the excuse was easily accepted, and after a few noisy moments, the house reached a whole new level of silence.
At first, it was enjoyable. But after twenty minutes or so, Hermione found herself tiring of the solitude she had craved. A sudden thunderclap made her jump, and as the rain poured down outside, she pulled on some shoes and wandered downstairs, intending to make a little tea. Doing something could ward off the loneliness, perhaps.
What met her in the kitchen instead was Harry, water dripping off of him. She smirked a little when sparks jumped out of his wand instead of the drying spell, and she coolly remarked,
"You'd think the Boy-Who-Lived could dry his own clothes."
Harry's only response was a strange, almost sneering, expression, and Hermione raised her eyebrows at the unexpected reaction. Had she managed to infuriate him too?
"Here, let me do it," she offered, hoping to make up for her snide remark by performing the spell herself. He politely thanked her, but still retreated for the stairs.
Before she could stop herself, she burst out, "Wait just a second, Harry!"
"What is it?" She tried not to notice the unemotional delivery of his reply.
"I just…" she hesitated. What did she actually want? "I just thought maybe we could talk. It seems like it's been a while since we last spent some time together." She finished lamely, a small hopeful smile on her face. So maybe she'd been avoiding everyone and so had he, but really, she missed her time with Harry, and judging by his reaction, he'd missed their friendship too.
He nodded, and they sat down on a pair of stools, Hermione's plans of making tea forgotten. Even without actually speaking, a little snatched time with Harry was so refreshing Hermione could hardly bear it.
The sound of rain beating against the house, along with a few creaks and knocks here and there was noise enough, and Hermione was startled when Harry suddenly asked,
"Where are the Weasleys?"
"Family visit to George, or something," she replied quickly, as it was her best guess beyond `Diagon Alley.' Harry wasn't fooled by the vague answer-she was never one to forget the details and he knew it.
"Or something?" He teased, smiling a little now.
"I was a little preoccupied when they told me," she replied, crossing her arms. She knew he meant no harm, but she was so used to being on the defensive with Ron…force of habit, really.
"What?" she added, noticing the grin on his face.
"I just thought it was funny that something could distract you so much that you would forget something."
"I'm not allowed to think about other things, then? Is that it?" She wasn't really upset. In fact, she was borderline flattered by the fact he noticed her habits at all.
Once again, she was hit with a wave of relief-it was so much easier talking to Harry than it was to try and converse with Ron. She smiled warmly at him, but stopped short of saying anything else; he seemed startled by something. Maybe he was doing some real thinking, she nearly teased, but she never quite brought herself to say anything. Then, out of nowhere,
"Thanks," Harry said, softly and with an impossible amount of meaning. Brushing aside the fluttering feelings, Hermione nodded, and (to keep away suspicion) asked,
"For what?"
"For being there, I guess." He seemed about as solid in his explanation as she had in hers, and Hermione was relieved to see that they were both terrible at this elaboration of emotions thing.
Still, it was the nicest thing he had told her in years.
"Harry, you know I'm your friend. You don't have to thank me." She probably was expected to say that.
"I know." He smiled, slightly embarrassed(?), and Hermione was so glad to see him expressing emotion that she hopped off her stool and engulfed him in a hug.
"What was that for?" she thought she heard him ask into her hair, and she hugged him tighter.
"For caring, of course!"
She pulled away, grinning up at him, her hand still holding his arm affectionately. Her eyes wandered to the right of his head, and she noticed the sunshine peeking through the windows.
"It's stopped raining, by the way," she added, and wordlessly agreed to take a walk outside with Harry.
He gripped her hand in an almost childlike fashion, and they ambled aimlessly past the garden.
Hermione vaguely noticed that the sparkling greenery made her think about Harry's eyes, but brushed it off as he told her a story about the first time he and Ron had tried to de-gnome the garden.
She'd always loved the effect summer showers had on the scenery, and now Hermione had another reason to appreciate it.
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End.
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