Unofficial Portkey Archive

TITLE: All Roads Lead Back

KEYWORDS: Hermione, Harry, Ron, Ginny, Draco and the rest of the gang. Primarily H/Hr, but a slew of various ships as well. Post-HBP.

SYNOPSIS: Harry Potter always figured that once his destiny was fulfilled he could finally have a happy, normal life. Unfortunately for him, he fell in love with his best friend...and everything went straight to Hell! A very gradual, slow moving H/Hr love story told through multiple canon character perspective as well as several flashbacks. Set 7 years after the final battle.

SPOILERS: All six books.

WORD COUNT: 26,332

RATING: NC17 for language and later sexual content.

BETA: Padfoot & murphsmine

WARNING: None, just angst. Lots and lots o'angst!

DISCLAIMER: If it looks like it's JKR's, well, that's because it is. She's provided me with the canvas and I'm truly enjoying painting on it.

Monday, 05/30/05

As the woman reentered the third floor bedroom, the ties of her short Oriental inspired dressing gown fastened tightly around her waist, she made her way to her trunk at the foot of the bed nearest the door and kneeled next to it. She removed the ring of keys that were in her pocket, and shuffling the set until she reached the third one, placed the key in its appropriate lock. As she deftly opened the lid, she placed all of the toiletries that had accompanied her into the bathroom inside. She then proceeded to open the first and second locks and removed a plain black scanty set from the former and a lightweight, dove gray tracksuit from the latter. After closing the trunk and locking it tightly, she dropped the clothing and keys on the bed and sauntered over to the makeshift vanity table under the room's only mirror.

Laid out on the table were enough cosmetics to service the back stage area at a beauty pageant. After pausing for a moment, trying to find a way to sit at the vanity, she got the trunk and pushed it before the mirror. The trunk had seen rougher treatment in its day. It had belonged to Alastor Moody before the wily, former Auror bestowed it upon her for her 20^th birthday. He had once told her that it was sometimes necessary in life to be able to pick up and disappear at a moments notice, and for those times the trunk would come in handy. Sometimes she wondered if Mad Eye's magical blue eye had looked down deep into her soul and had seen what the future held for her. However as soon as those ideas arose in her head she brushed them off. Alastor's opinion of Divination had been even lower than hers, she musingly remembered.

She had sniffed back large tears the night before after she heard of the dear old man's death. It had only been two months since Alastor 'Mad Eye' Moody's passing. Though he probably would have preferred to go out fighting whatever riffraff passed for dark lords these days, it seemed that whatever deities controlled such circumstances felt he deserved an easier, peaceful end for such a hard and painful life. He died in his sleep.

As she sat down at the table, she began her daily beauty ritual. She usually liked her eyes smoky so she applied the crème nude colored eye shadow first, before adding the dark brown one to both eyelids and to the crease with her finger. She next lifted the matching brown eyeliner pencil to her face and traced it around her eyes, as well as the inner rim. Her stylist had shown her how to do all of this, and had told her it added extra glamor to her large eyes and made the color of them pop. She then proceeded to add two coats of mascara to her already long and curling lashes. After that she lightly dusted on some face powder, she usually only wore foundation at night or for special occasions. She added a crème blush to her cheeks before applying an apricot toned color to her lips. She blotted them once and then re-applied the lipstick. Finding her face satisfactory, she turned her attention next to her hair.

Even after all of the straightening processes she had put it through these last few years, her hair still tended to curl under at the ends. Usually this fact annoyed her and she often spent most mornings trying to coax her hair into its sleek cut style with a flat iron. But since it was noon already, she decided to go low maintenance on it for the day. She simply parted the honey blonde hair in the middle and brushed it into a shining bob-like coiffure. She turned her head from side to side to look at it from both angles, and liking what she saw, lowered her brush.

She reached for one of her perfume atomizers and released the heady scent of iris, neroli, musk, and just a hint of patchouli at the base of her neck, behind her ears, her wrists, and along the hollow of her cleavage. She also added just a jot at the crook of each knee and her ankles for good measure. When she was a little girl she had watched her mum go through this same routine. Being the inquisitive little swot that she was she had asked her mother why she sprayed her ankles. It made no sense to the little girl that you would put perfume where no one could possibly smell it. Helen Granger, however, informed her daughter that if you did this the smell would blossom up and envelop you all day long. And when others smelled that scent, they would always think of you. Like all lessons she would learn, the child always remembered this bit of instruction and filed it away with the rest of the important data and morsels of knowledge she had gleaned through out the years.

In each pierced ear she fastened a small yellow stud made of beryl and around her neck she placed a thin platinum chain. On the chain hung a large, marquise cut stone almost the same shade as her earrings. As she sat back, hands resting on the table, she gave her handiwork a once over. In her youth, she had never been what one would call overly concerned about her appearance. She had gotten older though, and the tendency to scrutinize every extra line and worry over just when her first gray hair might appear had not been lost on her. But looking back at her reflection, she had to admit that it was a nice face that gazed back at her. She only wished that her eyes didn't look so sad. But there's nothing that can be done for that now, she inwardly sighed as she fastened a white gold cocktail watch around her wrist.

"You look perfectly lovely," spoke a warm, motherly voice.

A small, diffident smile graced the woman's lips, even as she looked at her own cocksure image.

"Thank you," she said sincerely to the mirror.

"You're welcome," it answered back. "But I would reconsider all the eye make-up, dearie. It does make you look like a bit of a tart."

Her hesitant smile blossomed fully as she ruefully shook her head.

"Thanks mum," she replied.

As she took one final glance at herself, she reckoned that she was ready to meet the day and whatever challenges...and more important...questions it had in store for her. It wasn't like she wasn't prepared for it all. She knew that coming back home, after all of these years away, wouldn't exactly be a cakewalk. Still it was time to put away the ghosts of her past and try to find a way to claim back her life. It was time to stop running. She just wished that she wasn't constantly on alert, waiting for all of the skeletons to come barreling out of the proverbial closet. But she was smart, she reminded herself. And when needed, she could summon up enough guile to get her through any tight squeeze. So she could handle whatever anyone chose to dish out at her with aplomb. She had done it before with no problems. What could make now any different? She was ready for this! You can do this Hermione, she thought to herself as she met her own eyes in the glass. I can do this; her reflection seemed to answer back as she gave a proud lift of her chin.

And then she sighed.

"I deserve a bloody Academy Award."

From the moment she had gotten off the ship in Southampton, Hermione had felt that maybe her homecoming hadn't been such a bright idea. Up until that point everything else about the trip had gone well. She had been lucky enough to book passage on a cruise freighter that was pulling out of Limassol and returning to England in a matter of days. Of course she had to fork over an arm and a leg to get her, the truck, the trunk and her dog on the damned thing on such short notice, but the timing of it all was nothing short of fortuitous. It was also a smooth sail across the water. The only difficulty she had run into was a little sea sickness, which wasn't all that uncommon for her, and a Turkish businessman on his way to Salisbury who kept remarking on what a lovely mistress she would make him. She hadn't kneed him too hard in the groin when he tried to come into her stateroom for a farewell nightcap. All in all everything had gone quite swimmingly.

But as she finally got her vehicle off the boat, and started on her way to St. Catchpole, she couldn't help but notice the ominous goose flesh that kept erupting all over her arms and legs. She cursed herself for the ninny she was being. Of course they were going to be happy to see her! She was their friend. They had to have missed her as much as she missed them, right? But as Hermione drove the near four hour distance, she slowly started to revert back to that small girl cowering in a corner as a troll stamped its way towards her. She was friendless and forgotten in the hullabaloo, just knowing she was going to die while no one at her new school cared. There were still nights now, even after all these years, where Hermione still cried for that little girl. She had even had to pull over onto the side of the road a number of times to collect herself as the tears fought to rain down. Her eye make-up was supposedly tear proof, but she didn't want to take that chance. It would never do to show up looking like a drowned raccoon, she thought humorlessly. The twins would have a field day over that.

It was when she turned onto the two track lane that led up to the Burrow that her panicked mind started screaming at her to turn back. They'll never know it was you, she kept hearing in her ears. They'll just think you're some Muggle who lost their way. Turn back now! You still have time. TURN BACK!

She could see a small group of people milling about the outside of the house, but from her vantage point she couldn't make out any faces. She definitely knew that they couldn't see her. A person could stand at her very window and not be able to see inside the spacious truck. Just like now. Hermione had turned her head for a second and was shocked to see the shape of someone flying near her window. She almost lost control of the vehicle, which sent Lizzie into excited yelps in the backseat. She turned her head to shush the dog and frantically hit the button that sent her window down.

Hermione thought she had never been happier to see a face in her life! She would be proven wrong only a few minutes later, but for the moment, as she looked at the handsome freckled face of her best friend, she finally realized that she had in fact made the right decision. Her joy was only compounded more when she was holding in her arms the other boy, now man, who had been the most important focal point of her short life. Once she was in Harry's arms she knew she had really come home.

After that everything else became a blur. At some point Glinda came hurtling out of the house and as soon as Hermione saw her, she reluctantly disentangled herself from Harry's grip and went running at her friend. The two woman threw themselves at each other and began a silly dance that included laughing, crying like lunatics, and jumping up and down as they held on to each other tightly.

The commotion they caused brought outside the other occupants of the house. All around her were shouts of her name as she felt the warm, welcoming caresses they lavished upon her. After a while she was ushered into the Weasley kitchen. She felt as though she had been lifted up on their shoulders, her feet barely seemed to touch the ground. Before she knew what was what, she was seated at the head of the table, empress-like, while everyone else looked towards her as though she were their Northern star. Ron sat to the left of her, Harry to the right. Molly, after tearfully crying into her hair while simultaneously asking if she had had anything to eat, was off near the stove pointing her wand here and there as she prepared a small feast. Arthur stood behind her chair trying his best to wipe away small, dignified tears from his eyes, while patting the top of her head on and off affectionately as if to make sure she was really there.

Most of the other faces around her looked just as pleased and happy to have her back. All that was left at the house now were the immediate family members; the last few guests had finally departed. As Hermione looked around the table at her family, she felt the walls she had erected around her memories silently crumble. The twins sat to her right, Glinda in between them. They had already begun calling her "Blondie", and for the time being Hermione couldn't help but laugh along with them. The rest of the table was filled in by Charlie, Percy, Penelope, Bill, and a greatly pregnant Fleur. At the other end sat Ginny and Lavender. Hermione could almost feel the chill wafting from that direction, but at that point of time she just didn't give a damn! The happiness and joy on everyone else's faces, as well as the laughter from the children near the hearth was enough to intoxicate her and blind her to all else.

But underneath all of the laughs and the smiles and the frivolity, there was a question that was practically being shouted at her. Why, Hermione? Why?! She saw it in Arthur's loving and accepting smile. She saw it in Glinda's cocked eyebrow. And most importantly she saw it in Harry's burning, bright eyes. But no one chose to voice it to her. Not just yet. Not when she could make a turn any moment for the door and be gone again in a flash. So instead Ron chose to tactfully ask the next best thing.

"Where the hell have you been?"

"RON!"

"RONALD!"

Both Lavender and Molly furiously fixed their gazes on Ron from opposite ends of the kitchen.

Hermione and the rest of the room laughed at the pink color that bloomed behind the redhead's ears.

"It's quite alright, Molly," Hermione offered as she snuck a glance at Harry from the corner of her eye. She was distressed to find that he had been staring at her and caught her at it.

She quickly turned her attention towards Ron and smiled in his direction.

"It's not as though I didn't assume to hear those very words from Ron's mouth. I just expected the question to be filled with quite a few more expletives," she teasingly quipped.

Hermione couldn't be sure, but she thought she heard a resentful huff come from the other end of the table.

"Shows you what you know," he joked as he leaned back in his chair and winked roguishly at her. "I'm a family man now."

George cackled at the remark causing Ron to send him a death glare. George ignored it and instead said, "Seriously though, Blondie, where've 'ya been?"

"Well," she began nervously, looking at all of their expectant faces, "until about five...almost six hours ago, I was getting off a boat from Cyprus."

Her answer seemed to astound them.

"Cyprus?" Harry furrowed his brow as he stared at her intently. "But we thought you were in America."

Hermione expertly hid her shock at his words.

"Why would you lot think I was there?"

"Well, since your wand was still registered with the Ministry, we could track its usage," answered Percy nonchalantly. "Of course we had no idea what you were doing seeing as how you had the good grace not to cast an Unforgivable."

Hermione was amazed. In her desperation to get out of Europe she had forgotten that small piece of information. During the Second War, after the failed assassination of Scrimgeour, the Ministry began keeping a registry of the wands of its employees just in case Voldemort or any of his Death Eaters managed to cast an Imperious on any other high ranking officials such as poor Gawain Robards. After the War the practice remained. It would seem that Scrimgeour trusted no one really. On Hermione's very first day as a new hire at the Ministry she had to submit her own vine wood to be logged in. At the time she had been so proud that she was actually going to be an employee for the prestigious British Ministry that she hadn't even thought how invasive such tactics were. Apparently now, after all of these years, she had completely forgotten that her wand had still been registered. Hermione was usually good at crossing all of her T's and dotting all of her I's. The fact that she had let that slip by her was bothersome to say the least.

"Well you're right, I was in the States. In fact I've been there for these last four years. I've been living as a Muggle. Well," she said nervously reconsidering her words, "I guess you could say I am pretty much a Muggle now. I tossed my wand years ago."

This revelation left the whole family dumbfounded. Hermione Granger wandless? One of the most well known witches in the world pretending to be a Muggle?

"Hermione," Ron said, scratching his head in frustration, "just what the bloody hell has been going on with you?"

Hermione looked around the kitchen, and as she saw all of the curious, expectant faces staring back at her, she straightened her spine, sat up straight and rested her hands firmly on top of the table.

"Maybe I should start from the beginning."

Hermione carefully began to fill in the missing years. Initially she pretty much bummed around Europe, lodging at one hostel after another. It wasn't like she didn't have the money to live such a carefree life. When her parents died she was left the sole beneficiary of both of their wills. For years the Grangers had run a highly profitable dentistry practice in Belgravia, whose clientèle encompassed most of that area, as well as Chelsea and Knightsbridge. Though not terribly rich by some standards, the Grangers were significantly well off. Daniel Granger's only other living relative at the time had been his mother Bridget Rose. He knew that Bridget wouldn't need anything from him; she was completely self-reliant and had lived on her farm for years without ever asking him for anything. He felt comfortable then leaving all he had to his only child. Helen Granger on the other hand had a sister named Holly. But the two siblings had been estranged for years before Helen's death, and there was little chance of Holly Darlington contesting her sister's will.

Her parents' deaths, as well as the selling of the family home on St. Luke's Mews, left Hermione with a rather sizable nest egg. When her beloved Nan died not too long after her parents, Hermione inherited from her as well. For the longest time Hermione had been unwilling to touch that money. She just let it sit in the bank and appreciate. She made a comfortable living working for the Ministry; she felt she had no need of it. But once she left the wizarding world, her secret stash of Muggle money came in handy. Though she wasn't a lavish spender by any means, she did spend a good deal of it as she made her way across the continent "castle hunting". It was a secret passion and hobby she had shared with her father when they went on their many family trips and vacations. Italy, Spain, Portugal, Switzerland, Germany, Denmark; she celebrated her 21^st birthday in front of Kronborg Castle in Helsingør.

But after spending all of that time bonding with the ghost of her dad, Hermione needed some way to feel close to her mother as well. That was when she decided to find her aunt Holly. From what her mother told her, she and her sister had been close as children and young teenagers. Then when Holly was seventeen she met and fell in love with a Yank who was studying at Oxford. When the young man left England, Holly ran away to be with him. The bond that used to connect the two sisters slowly fell into the large body of water that separated them, even though they tried their best to maintain it. When the American who promised to love Holly forever left her heartbroken and pregnant, she sent Helen a letter from Miami. When Holly's daughter was born, she sent Helen a picture of the baby from Chicago. When the Darlington girls' widowed father died, Holly sent Helen a condolence card from Little Rock. And when Hermione was born, Helen got a note of congratulations from Dallas. That was where the last card Helen ever received from her sister came from. That was also where Hermione went to find her aunt.

"TEXAS?!" exclaimed Glinda in shock.

"You mean you've been in Texas all this time?" asked Harry.

Hermione nodded her head.

"That is until I went to Cyprus on holiday, of course."

"Isn't that where they have those cow men?" Ron asked, fascinated by Hermione's tale so far.

She rolled her eyes affectionately.

"They're called cowboys, Ron. And yes, there are some there. But Dallas is really quite the metropolitan city."

"Blimey! I didn't even know you had an aunt. I thought all of your relatives were dead," Ron inelegantly remarked.

"RONALD!"

"Well mum, I did!"

Harry leaned into her, causing the hair on the back of Hermione's neck to stand on end.

"I remember you telling me about your aunt Holly. She and your mum were twins, right?"

"Fraternal, yes," she responded, touched that he would remember that bit of minutiae about her.

"So did you ever find your aunt?" Charlie asked inquisitively.

Hermione shook her head sadly.

"She died. Almost two weeks before I landed on her doorstep. She had been suffering from terminal cancer for years, you see."

Everyone in the room seemed saddened by the news, even Lavender and Ginny. Hermione could feel the Weasleys' empathy for her.

"But luckily for me, her daughter still lived in the house," Hermione finished, a big accomplished smile on her face.

"That must have been wonderful news, Hermione," said Arthur excitedly from behind her.

"It was," she said in answer. "Cynthia took me into her home that very night. I lived with her for a few months until I got an apartment...a flat with a few friends I made at my job."

"Zat sounds fascinating, 'Ermione," Fleur sweetly chirped as she rubbed at her swollen belly lovingly. "Whatever do you do?"

Hermione looked from face to face, knowing that her answer would completely amaze them, and relishing the looks she knew would appear at her reply.

"I've been working at a daycare center. I'm a preschool teacher."

"BLOODY HELL!"

Hermione turned to look at Harry. If she was being honest, that was the response she had been expecting from Ron.

"BUT YOU HATE KIDS!" her ex-boyfriend practically shouted.

Ah, that was more like it.

"I never said that I hated kids," she said as she brought her attention to Ron. "You said that I hated kids. In truth they did make me uncomfortable at first. You should have seen me the first time I had to take a little boy into the loo all by myself. Between him and me, I don't know who was more embarrassed about the whole thing," she chuckled.

The family laughed accordingly.

"But after a while I really started to love my job and love the children there. They were really great kids," she warmly gushed. "Cynthia is one of the head lawyers for Deeringham's, it's basically the south-western version of Harrods. They're all over Texas," she said as an after thought. "Well the owners of Deeringham's sit on the board of trustees that run a daycare center for the under privileged children in the area, you see. The Deering family is very modern and socially conscious like that. Well, Cynthia arranged for me to replace one of the teachers at the center after the woman went on maternity leave. She just never came back and I just stayed on."

"Wow," Ron responded in awe.

"You can say that again," Harry mumbled.

"Wow!"

"Git!"

Hermione giggled at the little exchange. God! She had missed her boys so much!

"Speaking of keeds," Fleur said as she turned her head to look at her brood by the hearth, "I zeenk eet is time for my leetle ones to go to bed."

This statement almost caused a small coup amongst the group at the grate. There were shouts and pleas for ten more minutes. The children had been playing with the assorted pets; Serge, Crookshanks, and Lizzie. The triplets had been trying to coax a few more naughty words from the jarvey, while the girls had been brushing and playing with Lizzie's thick coat. Lizzie meanwhile seemed intent on making friends with Crookshanks. She cheerfully sat in front of the chair that the part kneazle was perched on, staring at him jovially as she waited for him to acknowledge her. Crooks, however, was having none of it. He was too busy licking haughtily at his paw. PJ meanwhile was reading a storybook to little Dash and Leo near the corner as Marc, ever the adult, looked on.

With Fleur's statement Percy and Penelope decided it was time for them to take their children home as well. They both said their goodbyes, Penelope giving Hermione a friendly hug before picking up the child nearest to her, and the six of them portkey'ed out of the Burrow to their home in Exeter. After all four children gave their new "aunt" a kiss on the cheek, Fleur hustled her children up the stairs to get them ready for bed. That just left Violet and Felicity. Glinda was nowhere near ready to leave just yet, though. She still looked thoroughly amazed to have Hermione back after all of this time.

Violet was spending the night at the Burrow and Lavender, for her part, wasn't budging an inch from the room. Ron called Violet to him and sat the little girl on his lap. Fred did the same to his daughter. Hermione then floored everyone when she asked if she could hold Lish. Felicity after all was her godchild. She held out her arms to the little girl, and the child climbed across her mother, her uncles' George and Harry, and settled herself in Hermione's lap as though it was the most natural thing in the world to do. Hermione shifted her so that Felicity was straddling her lap and the child rested her head adorably on Hermione's shoulder.

"Ducks! What the bloody hell did they do to you over there?!" Glinda bemusedly asked. "When did you become the bleeding Child Whisperer?"

"Hermione, if anything I'm glad you're back so you can explain to me half the things this mad woman says," said Fred snarkily.

Glinda repaid him for the remark by pinching his bum under the table.

As everyone laughed, Molly came bustling from the stove laden down with food. She sat before Hermione one plate with roast beef and Yorkshire pudding, another plate with gammon and eggs, and a dish of custard. Knowingly, she also set three eating utensils on each plate. Ron and Harry looked across Hermione, sent a spirited grin each other's way, and both picked up a fork and began eating out of the plate nearest to them. Hermione merely shook her head adoringly at them. Molly also floated bottles of butterbeer to all of the adults in the room.

"Mum, you should rest," said Ginny tersely from across the table.

As far as Hermione could recall, this was the first time Ginny had spoken since they had all come into the house. When Ginny first laid eyes on her, Mrs. Potter first paused, as though having seen a ghost, then proceeded to give Hermione a tense and awkward hug. However since then, Ginny seemed comfortable just staying on the sidelines of this reunion. That is until now.

"You've been running around like a chicken since dawn, mum. There is no need to go to all of this trouble. It's just Hermione," she continued. Then thinking better of how that statement might have sounded she added, "She's practically family after all."

"Yes," said Molly as she lovingly rubbed at Hermione's cheek, "she is family. And if I hadn't seen any of you naughty children's faces in all these years, I would go to the very same trouble. Eat, sweetheart," she told Hermione. Molly then sat in the chair that Fleur had vacated.

Arthur walked over to his wife, stooped to kiss her cheek, and bade everyone a good night. As much as he wanted to stay up and chat some more, he had a very busy day at the Ministry to look forward to. Before heading up the stairs he kissed the top of Hermione's head.

"We've all missed you so very, very much, dear girl. I'm so happy that you finally came back to us."

Hermione felt her eyes go wet at Molly and Arthur's poignant speeches. She called on every bit of strength she possessed not to bawl her eyes out right there as she watched the man she considered almost a father climb the stairs. Instead she picked up a fork and began making headway on the pudding. In truth she was starved. The long drive from the docks had really worn her out.

"So Hermione," Lavender said drawing her attention to the other blonde, "what brings you back here? Now?"

Hermione softly chuckled at the distrusting underlying inflection in Lavender's voice.

"Well," she began slowly, easing her fork down, "I'm here for Ron."

These words made all action at the table cease. Ron had been lifting a spoonful of custard to Violet's mouth. His eyes went wide. Harry was staring at Hermione. Again! Only this time he was staring at her with the most peculiar look on his face. Hermione didn't even want to glance down at the end of the table.

"That is to say, I'm here for Ron and you Lavender," she quickly amended. She looked at everyone and smirked at the stunned faces. "I'm here for the wedding!"

Hermione could feel Harry release the breath he had been holding near her right shoulder. Everyone else seemed to relax simultaneously at her statement.

She then recounted the moment, only a few days prior, she'd drifted into a small meze restaurant in Limassol. When she sat down at the table she noticed a newspaper laying haphazardly on it. As she picked it up, her jaw nearly hit the table as she recognized the winking picture of Pavel Dimitrov on its cover. The first time Hermione had ever seen Dimitrov was when she was 14 and watched him, Viktor, and the rest of the Bulgarian National team play against Ireland for the World Cup. The handsome Dimitrov hadn't changed that much in the eleven years or so that had passed since then. He was also apparently still a whore if the article detailing the paternity suit that fourteen different witches in ten different countries was filing against him, was true. Viktor had often told her of the ladies man that his team mate was.

What Hermione found was a copy of a day old International Seer. She quickly looked around to see if the paper's owner was coming back for it. Obviously a wizard or witch had been in the restaurant before her and had carelessly left the Seer in the Muggle eatery. Hermione quickly exited the restaurant, paper in hand, and walked to her hotel nearby. Once in her room she poured through the periodical. This was her first real contact with anything magical in years. She searched for any mention of anyone she knew from Great Britain. That was how she saw the Weasley wedding announcement. As soon as she saw that Ron's Commencement was going to be held in a matter of days, she arranged passage to England on the very next boat pulling out of the port town.

"Blimey! I would have married Lav ages ago if that's all it took to get you back home!"

Nearly everyone found the joke funny. Lavender, however, did not. She primly stood up from her seat, plucked Violet out of Ron's arms, and exited out of the Burrow's front door. Ron smiled embarrassedly at everyone as he quickly followed his fiancée out. George, Fred, Bill, and Charlie snickered loudly at his retreating form.

"Well," began Hermione evenly as she stroked Felicity's sleeping head that was now nestled comfortably against her bosom, "I don't know if I would have showed up any other time before now. I was pretty content in Dallas, although I had been contemplating moving on for some time, settling some place new. I just happened to be in Cyprus recharging my batteries before deciding where to go to next. But it does almost seem as though fate brought me into that restaurant, doesn't it?"

She looked to her right and her gaze locked with Harry's for a moment, before she forcefully wrenched it away.

"Then again I've never put much store in fate."

George, trying to make a joke out of it cracked, "Well I think it's fated for Ronniekin's hand to be very busy awhile. Lav-Lav doesn't look like she is going to be too accommodating tonight"

"GEORGE!"

"Sorry, mum."

"I heard you, you prat!" snapped Ron as he reentered the kitchen holding Violet asleep in his arms.

Molly got up, gathered the child from Ron, and headed up the stairs with her.

"Lav's gone home to her mum's. You know she can't stay with me any longer 'til the wedding," he said as he took his seat next to Hermione again.

Once Ron was seated, the kitchen began to fill with the sounds of the family's muted chatter coupled with that of scraping cutlery hitting dinnerware as Harry, Hermione, and Ron finished off the food on their plates. Glinda had already removed Lish from Hermione's embrace and was cradling the little girl in her arms. Fred and George had started in on Bill, trying to get him to tell them what Fleur was having. Bill, however, wasn't disclosing the information.

Charlie took the time to inform them all that he was coming home to stay for a few months. Maybe even settle down for good with a nice bird. Everyone was shocked, yet pleased to hear the news. Charlie hadn't really lived at home since he had left Hogwarts. He was always off at some foreign locale after another, wrangling dragons. But after so many months in Sweden, he felt that now was the time for him to finally put down some roots.

Harry briefly mentioned that he wanted to discuss a case he was working on with him as soon as Charlie was free. This statement confused Hermione. What would a world famous Quidditch Seeker need a Dragon Keeper for? When she asked, Ginny took it as an opportunity to brag on how her husband was now one of the most well known and respected Aurors in the country. Hermione couldn't believe it! She asked what else had changed since she had been gone.

Everyone took turns filling her in on the marriages, the births, and sadly the funerals she had missed out on. Moody and Winky's deaths were the ones that she had taken the hardest. Regrettably, Ron had also annoyingly made a big deal out of Oliver Wood being engaged to Alicia Spinnet. Hermione had said that she was happy for them. She was shocked though to hear that Cormac McLaggen had married Pansy Parkinson. And more than that, the two were having a baby together. From where Hermione was sitting, it looked like Ginny was just as mystified by the whole thing.

"And how about you, Ducks?" Glinda asked as she expertly raised an eyebrow in Hermione's direction. "Let's see those hands."

Hermione, being thoroughly confused as to what Glinda was implying, held out both of her hands before her.

"No rings on those fingers then?"

It took Hermione another second to catch on.

"Oh," she said when she finally did.

Her cheeks flushed pink.

"No, no rings on my fingers."

Once again she felt Harry's heated gaze fall on her. It felt as though he were trying to look straight through to her soul. She practically felt it all the way to her tummy.

"Well why not?!" Glinda badgered her. "A girl like you still single? It ought to be a crime!"

Hermione shrugged her shoulders. Her hands rose to her chest and she began to anxiously twist the large gem stone hanging there around and around on its chain.

"I guess I'm just poor wife material."

"Well surely, Hermione, there must be someone in your life," Ginny pressed, tossing her hair over her shoulder. "You were never the type that liked to be alone for long."

Ginny's comment suddenly made everyone in the room uncomfortable. Charlie tittered nervously, while Bill excused himself and went up the stairs to bed. Harry looked at his wife almost for the first time that evening, and gave her a displeased look as he gathered one of Hermione's hands in his own. Ginny ignored this; she just kept her eyes fixed on Hermione. Ron disgustedly rolled his eyes as he leaned back and protectively put an arm across the back of Hermione's chair. Hermione couldn't remember the last time she had felt so well cared for.

"Actually, for some time now, Lizzie has been the only real companion in my life," she joshed as she sat up straight in her seat. "I had a blind date just a few years ago that just about put me off of men forever."

"What the devil could have happened that was that bad?" Glinda asked as Harry made a queer choking sound.

Hermione giggled at the memory.

"You see one of my roommates, Amelia, was dating this bloke who worked for this tool company. Her boyfriend was closing this very big deal with an exec from a firm based here. So lover boy gets it into his head how great it would be if the two Brits meet. Mind you, when he first met me he thought I was from Connecticut. So he invites the poor bastard out for a few drinks and corners Amy into bringing me along as the sacrificial lamb to the slaughter. Our other roommate even got in on the act, forcing me to go. Benny even..."

"Who's Benny?" Harry suspiciously questioned, interrupting the flow of her story.

Everyone at the table looked at him, Hermione chief among them.

"Just curious, is all," he defensively said.

"Benitez is...I mean, he was, my other roommate."

Harry screwed up his face as if trying to decipher a difficult Arithmancy problem.

"You lived with a man?"

"Well...yes," Hermione said in answer, bewildered by Harry's line of questioning. "If you recall Potter, I once lived with two men."

Ron and Charlie snorted at her reply.

Harry gave them both withering looks before arguing, "That was different. Ron and I were your best mates. Any other bloke might be out to take advantage of you."

Hermione sighed. He was still playing the overprotective brother.

"I really didn't have to worry about that with Benitez. You see, I had a vagina. I don't think he was very interested in it. Besides his boyfriend would have had a few choice words for me if he had been."

Ron, who had been nursing his bottle of butterbeer, spat the liquid out. Charlie reached over to pat his back while smothering his own snort. However Fred, Glinda, and George practically fell over each other from laughing so hard. The only ones who seemed like they weren't amused were Ginny and Harry.

Felicity began to stir in Glinda's arms, and Fred reached over to take his daughter from his wife. He told Glinda to stay while he took Lish home. He would fly them on his broom; she could just floo into their cottage when she was ready. Glinda, who abhorred flying on any contraption she couldn't get an in-flight movie and a bag of peanuts on, readily agreed. After she kissed her little family goodbye, she turned dancing eyes back towards Hermione.

"So finish tell us about the date from Hell!"

Hermione chuckled at Glinda's excited interest. Glinda always enjoyed a good story.

"There isn't much left to tell. I showed up to the bar, when who should I spy sitting beside Amy's boyfriend, was none other than Dudley Dursley."

Hermione giggled madly at the stunned faces of Harry, Ron, Charlie, George, and Ginny. Glinda seemed to be the only one in the dark.

"No fucking way!" said Ron in awe.

Harry was still too shocked to say anything.

"Who or what is a Dudley Dursley?" asked Glinda.

George turned to Glinda, a large grin on his face.

"Remember Fred and I told you about Harry's fat Muggle cousin?"

"Oh yes," Glinda said as realization dawned on her. "The one who got the pleasure of being WWW's very first guinea pig right?"

"You went on a date with Dudley?" Harry asked, baffled.

"Mmm, yes."

"I haven't seen him in years, thank Merlin!"

"What did he say to you?" asked Ron.

"Nothing. He was a perfect gentleman at first. Big as a house still, but sweet."

Both Ron and Harry scoffed at this.

"It's true. He was actually quite shy when we were first introduced. He didn't seem to recognize me. My hair wasn't blonde back then, but I figure after not seeing me for years I did look quite different. Plus the bar was dark and smoky. We actually got on quite well."

"Well where did the Hell part come in?" Glinda asked.

"Oh, that would be about the time he walked me to my door and thought he was spending the night. He even got a little aggressive with me."

Harry made a strangled sound and looked as though he was ready to leave his seat, hunt his cousin down, and give him a good throttling on the spot. Hermione, sensing his jumbled thoughts, laid a gentle hand on his wrist to hold him in place. He calmed down quickly.

"Don't bother," she told him. "He didn't get too far. I simply asked him when the last time he had been turned into a piglet was. He took one good look at me under the bright lights of my hallway and took off like a streak."

Hermione chuckled softly to herself.

"You know I never figured a man that large could run that fast."

Everyone's laughter brought Molly stomping back down the stairs.

"I just got the girls back to sleep. You lot need to keep it down."

Molly's chastising words made Hermione look to her watch.

"Oh damn!" she exclaimed. "I hadn't intended on staying this long. I have a reservation at the Blakes and it will take me forever to make the drive over."

"You're staying in London then?" Harry nervously asked.

Hermione began to stand up.

"Yes. I booked a suite as soon as I made the arrangements to get on the boat. I wanted something in town so I wouldn't have to go too far to look for a flat."

Glinda, Ron, and Harry all seemed to inhale deeply at her statement. All three were frightened to speak in case they misunderstood what she meant. It was up to Charlie to ask the important question.

"You're looking for a place to live? Here?"

Hermione bit on her bottom lip as she looked between Harry and Ron. She hadn't realized that she hadn't made her plans more obvious.

"I'm sorry; I thought I made that part clear. I've decided to come back home."

Before Hermione knew it, she was being engulfed in a hearty bear hug by both Harry and Ron. The two tall men lifted her easily off of the ground.

"Put me down, you prats! PUT ME DOWN!" she shouted amusedly. "What do I look like, a doll you can just fling about? I already had a taste of the Twin Sandwich!"

"Oh yeah," Ron said cheekily, "well this is the Trio Panini!"

"Leave it to Ron to get technical when it comes to food," said Harry as they both gently set her down and he bent down to kiss her cheek sweetly. Hermione had to consciously remind herself not to put her hand to the spot just to touch it.

Glinda practically pulled the two men from Hermione so she could get in her own squeeze.

"You mean it?! You've really come back for good?!" she asked as she held on to her friend tightly.

Hermione simply moved her head up and down; too choked up to speak.

"Well forget about that fancy, schmancy hotel, Ducks. You're coming to Hogsmeade with me!"

"I would kick this one out," Ron said referring to George, "so you could stay at my place, but Lavender would kill me dead."

"Well why don't you just come home with me," Harry said eagerly. "Me and Ginny I mean," he quickly amended as he looked at his wife, and promptly turned his back to her as he saw the incredulity form in her eyes. "We have more than enough room at our house. We have room after room in fact."

Although her face looked impassive to anyone looking at her, Hermione had to control the near horror struck expression that threatened to spread across it. Stay at Harry's?! What did these people think she was made of? That was a horrible idea!

Ginny walked up and reached out a hand to her.

"Harry is right, Hermione. We have more than enough room at the Palace. We would both just love to have you."

To say that Ginny's eyes were frozen blue ice chips wouldn't have come close enough to describe them. The redhead's cold eyes seemed to challenge Hermione. Come stay with me. See how happy my life is. I dare you! At least in Hermione's opinion that's what they seemed to say.

A terribly insincere smile grafted itself to Hermione's face.

"I wouldn't want to impose," she said as she carefully removed her wrist from out of Ginny's claws.

"Well you won't be imposing on me," said Molly as she wrapped Hermione in a motherly embrace. "You think I would let you come all the way back here and then send you away to some big, drafty hotel?" she asked. "Merlin no! You will stay right here. You can have Ginny's old room."

Ron, Glinda, and George all made noises of approval. Although Hermione was touched by the offer, she still valiantly tried to protest.

"But...but...where will Charlie sleep?"

"I don't mind bunking down on the couch for a few nights, Hermione."

"See Hermione, this will be perfect," insisted Ron as he threw his arm around her shoulder.

"I won't take no for an answer, Hermione Granger," Molly said firmly as she turned the young woman around to face her. "It's much too late for you to drive all that way. Besides dear, I think your friend would protest if you tried to leave now."

Molly cocked her head in the direction of the fireplace. Sleeping peacefully in front of it was Hermione's beloved pet. Curled up on top of Lizzie was Serge. The lordly Crookshanks was sleeping high above them on his chair.

Hermione's hesitance eased at the sight of the resting animal, as well as at Molly's hopeful face.

"Are you sure it won't be too much trouble?" Hermione asked, just a hint of uncertainty in her voice.

"Dear, it would be no trouble at all."

Hermione then looked at the bright smiles of Glinda, Ron, George, and Charlie and decided that maybe it would be alright for her to stay. It would only be for one night, two at the most hopefully. As Hermione studied Ginny's face she could see that the young woman was quite relieved that Hermione hadn't taken her up on her offer. For once Hermione could agree with her on the sentiment. But it was the expression on Harry's face that troubled her. It was guarded. As though he were trying to hide from her how he felt about this whole arrangement. Was he mad that she hadn't chosen to stay at his home? Was he disappointed? He probably thought it would be harmless enough for her to stay with him for a few days. Hadn't she innocently shared a bed with him too many times to count? It would be like old times. He probably still saw her as that same teen aged girl who was his trusted best friend, who was like a sister to him. Of course Harry wouldn't see anything wrong with her staying in his great big house where he slept with his ravishing flawless bride, and he lived his wonderful perfect life.

But Hermione could.

"Alright then," she said as she focused her attention on Molly instead. "I'd be more than happy to stay."

Thirty minutes later Hermione was resting comfortably in the third floor bedroom where she'd once spent a handful of summer nights, gossiping and giggling with a little girl who had been her very first female companion. She fondly remembered that hazy, lazy summer, just before she turned 15, when she and Ginny started to bond. She could still recall the morning that Ginny nicked a very large maroon brassier out of her mum's room and both girls took turns trying it on, praying for the day that they would have enough to at least halfway fill it.

Hermione could still hear her own laughter as she watched Ginny's freckled face go from disbelief to horror as she described to the younger girl what a tampon was and where Muggle women actually put them. And if she tried she was sure she could see, despite the darkness of the room, the faint outlines of two adolescent girls huddled under the sheets of Ginny's bed, confiding and whispering to one another the name of the boy each girl fancied. The fact that both objects of affection were upstairs in the attic bedroom, probably dead to the world, only helped to fuel their girlish giggles.

As Hermione finally pulled the duvet tight around her, she could only wonder if her life had really been that uncomplicated back then, or had time simply tampered with her memories to make everything appear so idyllic. Probably a bit of both, she said aloud to no one but herself and the darkened room, then rolled over on her side and closed her eyes. Probably a bit of both.

In fact those were simpler times. They were times when no one gave the slightest thought of dark lords rising from the pits of Hell to throw everything in disarray; days when youth promised you a future, not death for being at the wrong place at the wrong time. Days when a little boy hadn't yet been told that it was his responsibility to save the world. Days when all Hermione Granger had to worry about was whether or not a badge marked with a large "P" would come her way in another year, or if Ron would ever notice the two whole inches she grew while vacationing with her parents in Majorca. That's where Hermione had been before she came to spend the rest of her summer at the Burrow. The Granger women had spent a few days sunning themselves on a beach in Pollença, while Hermione and her father explored the remnants of the old watch tower and palace of Sóller. All in all it had been a pleasant getaway, even if Hermione felt she had been coerced into it.

The trip had been part of the deal that enabled Hermione to go to the Quidditch World Cup. When Ron's family offered to take Hermione and Harry to the championship game and then deliver them to school for the start of term Hermione, despite her indifference to all things Quidditch, jumped at the offer. Any chance to spend more time with her two best friends was well worth the bother of the silly little game. All Hermione knew was that wherever Harry and Ron were, she wanted to be there as well. It was a desire that grew and grew with each passing year of their friendship.

Her parents, somewhat reluctantly, agreed to let her go as long as she spent a few weeks with them beforehand. Though her parents were proud of her accomplishments at Hogwarts and her status as a witch, Helen and Daniel Granger couldn't help but feel that with each passing year they were being slowly marginalized out of their daughter's life. It was as if they no longer belonged to her world or she to theirs. Hermione noticed the change as well but felt too young and inadequate to do anything about it. When her father offered her the proposal, she figured that maybe the little family holiday with her parents would be enough to make up for it all. Although Hermione would have preferred to have gone straight to the Burrow, she and her father shook on the deal. Sadly no one knew at the time that the vacation would be the last real bit of quality time the formerly close-knit family would ever spend with one another.

After they arrived back in England, her dad drove Hermione straight to the Burrow, and tried to ignore the sad tug on his heart as his one and only child gave him a quick kiss goodbye and ran blissfully towards the Weasleys' front door. The only thing that made the situation bearable for the Grangers was the fact that their little Hermione Jane was finally happy. Before they had found out that Hermione was actually a witch, that hadn't always been the case.

As a child making friends had never come easy to Hermione. She was always different from the other children. She thought that studying and learning new things was the most fun that could be had. She raised her hand in class more times than the law should allow. During Break Time she preferred sitting on a bench with a well worn and much loved copy of Peter Pan or Through the Looking Glass, as opposed to making daisy chains with the other little girls or pretending not to notice the boys playing leap frog nearby. And most importantly Hermione could make things...happen...without even trying. She was what the polite, well raised children called odd. The other little bastards chose far nastier names for her.

Usually the modus operandi used was clever word play on her name. Well, clever for a bunch of primary schoolers. Her-morngy, Herma-ninny, Germy Hermy; one 8 year old, snot nosed monster named Sebastian Bingham called her Hermaphrodite during morning Assembly for three days straight. It was only on the third day, as the other kids laughed uproariously at her plight, and hot tears threatened to stream down her face that Hermione retaliated the only way she knew best. She dared Sebastian to spell it. That was the last time Bingham ever looked her way.

Hermione learned an important lesson that day. She was smarter than most of her peers, and when needed, she could use her rapier sharp mind as a fierce weapon to protect herself. Sadly for Hermione, she never noticed that she also inadvertently used her keen intelligence as a shield and barrier to keep others from getting too close. Through out her primary school career she was a very lonely girl. When she got to Hogwarts she had hoped that all of that would change, but she only received more of the same. That is until Harry and Ron came barreling their way into the girls' toilet that All Hollow's Eve and forever wove themselves into the fabric of her life.

In Harry and Ron Hermione found two people worthy of all of the care and devotion that had been hoarded away in her big heart for years. In Harry and Ron she found two people who accepted and loved her for the bossy boots, know-it-all, pain in the arse that even she knew she could be from time to time. In Harry and Ron she found two friends that she knew she would have all her life. And most importantly, in Harry and Ron she found what had been missing without her even knowing it had been lost. She found the two missing puzzle pieces that completed her.

Theirs was an unlikely friendship. It was very rare that you saw a relationship, especially one as strong and devoted as what the children shared, develop between two boys and girl. Sure Hermione never understood the boys' near obsession with Quidditch, and sure Harry and Ron tended to label any oddness on her part as "girl issues" more than her liking, nevertheless, Hermione would have never traded them for all the gold in Gringotts.

It wasn't until she got older that she began to miss the presence of a feminine outlet in her life; someone who could relate to some of the changes Mother Nature was bestowing on her, as well as another little girl she could confide things to that she would have been too shamed to share with her boys. Hermione's dorm mates, Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil, were out of the question, though. In Hermione's humble opinion Lavender was silly at best and vacuous at worse. Parvati wasn't that much better if judging by the titles of her book collection; The Necromancer's Naughty Nymph and The Potion Master, the Witch, and his Magic Wand, to name just a few.

Although she got along well with Padma Patil and Susan Bones, often sharing many classes like Arithmancy or Runes with them, the three girls' relationships with one another back then was best described as competitive rather than close. Each girl knew early on that the other two would more than likely be her competition for Head Girl in a few years. Eventually Hermione accepted that she had done quite well for three years without female companionship. She figured that Harry and Ron's friendship was all that she needed. It was after reaching this monumental conclusion that Ginny Weasley decided to enter the picture.

Before that summer of '94, Hermione and Ginny had never really associated with one another. Of course they knew each other pretty well; Ginny after all was Ron's baby sister and a fellow Gryffindor. However the difference in ages and personality made the idea of a friendship between the two of them seem unlikely. That fact didn't stop Hermione from trying to befriend the younger girl when she first came to Hogwarts, though. At first Hermione had tried to be friendly with the redhead, giving her advice or offering her assistance with homework assignments. Ginny, however, struck Hermione as being overly secretive and slightly stand-offish. Later on they would all discover that Ginny Weasley had fallen under the thrall of Tom Riddle's diary for most of the year, but at the time the young girl's seemingly reticence to form any type of relationship with her strengthened in Hermione the belief that she obviously sent off some kind of pheromone that repelled members of her own sex.

Then one day shortly after the fiasco with the dark mark and poor little Winky, while Harry, Ron, and the twins were off near the lake behind the Burrow flying or causing some sort of trouble (at least to Hermione's thinking), Ginny cautiously approached the corner of the room she had been reading in.

"Yes?" asked Hermione, looking over the top of her Standard Book of Spells, Grade Four.

Although she didn't know it, her face was stern and drawn, a facial expression that was quite the norm for her when she was immersed in one of her school books. Hermione always took her studies very seriously. However this was the look that often made people think she was unapproachable. Or worse still, a wet blanket.

"I don't mean to be a bother, I'll leave you alone," she said as she turned on her heel to exit the front parlor of the house.

The lines on Hermione's brow relaxed and a genuine, shy smile crept to her face.

"Oh, you're no bother, Ginny," she said as she settled the book on the floor next to her feet. "I just figured that you were outside watching the boys. I'm absolute rubbish on a broom myself."

Hermione flushed an embarrassed pink. It always tweaked her ego a bit that she was a witch with absolutely no head for flying. Hermione wasn't used to being rubbish at anything.

"What about you?" she asked Ginny.

"Oh I've been stealing my brothers' brooms since I was 6. But shhh," she said putting a finger mischievously to her lips, "don't tell them that."

Ginny grinned down at her and Hermione couldn't help but smile as well. This girl before her was worlds different than the shy, tongue-tied one she was used to encountering. Of course Harry was usually around for those times, thought Hermione analytically. As soon as that thought rose up, Hermione brushed it easily to the side.

"Although I don't support theft in any manner," Hermione began in a falsely grave tone, "I think that's absolutely brilliant," she said as an admiring smile broke across her face. "Do you think you might try out for the house team this year?"

Hermione patted the spot next to her on the floor, a clear invitation, and Ginny's smile brightened as she eased down beside her.

"Well I am a bit scrawny for Keeper, don't you think? With Wood gone that's about the only option open," Ginny said in an easy, carefree tone. "I wouldn't want to be a Beater for all of the galleons in the Malfoy vault. The twins are just too good to replace, and besides I wouldn't want to end up with man arms like Pug Face Parkinson," she joshed as her freckled face wore a naughty grin.

Hermione bit the insides of her right cheek to keep herself from smiling. Although Pansy Parkinson was a cow, it wasn't really nice to talk about her that way...even if her arms were rather masculine.

"I would love to play Chaser, but Angelina, Alicia, and Katie are unbeatable as a team. I couldn't hope to compare."

Hermione nodded her head in agreement. The three Gryffindor Chasers did work magnificently together. Probably because they were all such close friends, Hermione surmised. Hermione could only wonder how Katie Bell was going to take it in a few years when the two older girls left her behind.

"Then there's Harry," Ginny said dreamily as she hung her head down and smiled. "But who could replace Harry? Dad says that he's the best thing to happen to Gryffindor house in years."

Hermione couldn't miss the near worship in Ginny's voice. It was painfully obvious that the poor thing still fancied Harry. But Hermione knew that as long as Ginny treated Harry as though he were some near god-like figure, he would never look her way.

"Is that what you wanted to talk about? Harry?" Hermione asked sharply. She was used to other girls asking her questions about Harry, sometimes even Ron, and it bothered her to no end. She hated that most people only saw her as a conduit to one of her boys. It hurt her to think that this was what Ginny was doing. Hermione had almost fooled herself into thinking that Ginny had actually wanted to make friends.

Ginny must have caught on to a bit of Hermione's frustration because her face quickly took on a look of worriment.

"Oh no...no...that's not it at all," Ginny said, voice atremble. "I...I..." Ginny stammered as her ears burned red, "I wanted to talk to you about school!"

At the word "school" Hermione's face perked.

"School?"

"Yes, I...it's just that I'm going to be starting my Third Year soon-"

"I know, isn't it exciting?!" Hermione asked as her eyes brightened cheerfully. "You get to pick two new classes and you have so much to choose from. There's Runes and Arithmancy, Muggle Studies and Magical Creatures...Divination..."

Hermione wrinkled her nose.

"Although Trelawney is a fraud and anyone who would tell you different is an idiot," Hermione said as she held her nose high.

Ginny smirked. "Like Parvati and Lavender?"

Hermione couldn't help herself from wearing a similar look on her face.

"Well I didn't say it."

The two girls laughed at the sly jibe.

"But seriously your Third Year is so important, Ginny. I mean, just think, you're only two years closer to OWLs. And then after that you only have another year before you have to think about NEWTs. And then there's all the new spells you're going to learn," she said as her eyes glowed and her cheeks ached from smiling so hard.

Ginny gave Hermione a wide eyed look of awe that made Hermione blush furiously.

"Sorry," she said, abashed. "That all probably sounds pretty boring to you."

Hermione hung her head. She could only imagine what Ginny would think of her now. Why would someone as funny and pretty as her want to befriend someone whose nose was perpetually wedged in a musty old book.

"You're not boring Hermione," Ginny declared forthrightly. "You're pretty far from boring. Boring would be Percy or...or...what's that puffed up Hufflepuff's name again, the one constantly bragging about his scores?"

"That would be Zacharias."

"What I wouldn't give to be able to stuff his fat hole."

"GINNY!"

"Well I would," Ginny answered with out a hint of apology. "But you're nothing like them. Besides, I know how important school is to you. Ron's told me often enough."

Hermione felt her face go warm at the mention of her secret crush.

"Ron talks about me then?" she asked as casually as she could muster. However she wouldn't meet Ginny's gaze, thus missing the look of understanding that alighted in the redhead's eyes.

Ginny smiled as she said, "Talks about you? He won't shut up about you, at least not to me and mum. 'Course he wouldn't dare say anything in front of Fred and George; they would never leave him alone if he did. But he's constantly going on and on about something you said, or something you did. He practically hangs off your every word."

As Ginny said this, it took every drop of Hermione's poise and dignity to refrain from jumping up from the floor and clicking her heels at these words. That is until Ginny said something that completely threw her for a loop.

"Why, to hear Ron tell it, one would almost think that he considers you the only girl in the world. Him and Harry, that is."

If Hermione hadn't been concentrating on how odd Ginny's last remark was, she might have caught the barest hint of something...odd in the girl's tone. But at the time she had been so perplexed by the statement that she was completely oblivious to everything else.

"Somehow I doubt that. I'm just the only girl that they know well." She sighed forlornly. "Sometimes I don't think Ron even recognizes the fact that I am a girl."

"Why not? You're cute...enough."

As much as that last bit smarted, Hermione couldn't really fault Ginny for it.

"Ginny Weasley," she half-scolded the girl, "my head is too small for my hair, my teeth are too large for my face, and right now I'm wearing a training bra that makes me feel like I'm a right and proper fraud." She despondently sighed as she dropped her head back against the wall. "Trust me; I know when I'm licked."

Ginny rolled her eyes at the tirade.

"Mum says that girls like you are just late bloomers, is all. I still think my brother fancies you."

"Well he sure has a funny way of showing it," Hermione sulkily replied. Then she and Ginny locked gazes and simultaneously huffed, "Boys!"

This caused both girls too fall upon themselves in laughter.

"Golly Hermione, I knew there was a reason I liked you!"

Hermione looked at Ginny in amazement.

"Y-you like me?"

"'Course I do! You're not at all like these giggling idiots who only care what new robes they can get daddy to buy them."

"Well yes, my predilection towards giggling is virtually non-existent," Hermione said in mock severity.

Ginny smiled at the quip.

"See, you're smart and funny too. I wish I could be like you."

"Like me?" Hermione bewilderedly responded. "Why would anyone want to be like me?"

Ginny shook her head at the inquiry as if it were the silliest question ever asked.

"Why wouldn't they? All of the professors brag on how you are the most talented witch Hogwarts has seen in a long time, everyone knows that you're going to be Head Girl in a few years, and best of all Harry Potter is your best friend. Who wouldn't want to be you?"

"But I don't even think of it like that," Hermione tried to explain. "I've never thought of Harry like that. Harry is just..."

She paused as she searched her brain to find the best way to describe just what she meant.

"Harry's just Harry to me."

Ginny's smile tightened ever so slightly.

"Well we can't all be so lucky, now can we?"

The conversation was taking a very odd turn in Hermione's opinion, but before she could protest Ginny's last remark, the other girl effortlessly changed the topic.

"Do you think…" she nervously began as she fingered the frayed edges of the skirt she was wearing, "…do you think we could maybe...oh, I don't know...hang out some more? Together?"

Ginny was so obviously embarrassed by the offer that she couldn't even look at Hermione's face. But if she had, she would have seen the bright, hopeful smile that had formed there.

"I mean I would understand if you don't want to; you have Ron and... and Harry. But I think I could learn a lot from you, spells and such. I know this great concoction we could put in your hair, make it all shinny like mines. And it would be nice to have a girl I could talk to from time to time. You just don't know how lucky you are being an only child Hermione! Having six brothers is hell...whoops," Ginny said as she quickly covered her mouth. "Sorry," she sheepishly apologized.

Hermione only smiled at the slip.

"That's alright. I am friends with Ron; I've heard worse."

Ginny smiled too.

"And I would like it very much if we...hung out. And there are so many spells I could teach you, Ginny. In fact I've been working on a new one. Would you like to see it?"

Ginny nodded her head up and down enthusiastically as Hermione stood up from the floor. She drew her wand out of her jean pocket. Ginny got up as well.

"But won't you get in trouble?" she nervously questioned Hermione.

Hermione only smiled at her trepidation.

"The first time I tried it out I did. Got one of those letters from Hopkirk's office. But I'm sure I could get away with it here. With five of age magical people staying in this one house right now they could never track it back to me."

Hermione breezily explained to her how the Ministry really couldn't trace an individual wand. In a house where so much magic was expelled regularly a small spell like hers would slip easily through the cracks.

"You mean I could have turned Percy into a slug a long time ago?"

Hermione's mischievous smile was all the answer that Ginny needed.

"Yes, but don't tell Ron or Harry. Merlin only knows what they could get up to if they knew!"

"Forget that, just imagine the twins."

The very thought of what mischief the Weasley twins could stir up before they officially were allowed to perform magic sent Hermione's eyebrows into her hairline.

"This remains our little secret then," she conspiratorially said as she offered her hand to Ginny.

"Something tells me we are going to have a lot of those," Ginny said as she took Hermione's hand in hers and pumped it up and down.

Hermione was almost made speechless by Ginny's statement. She felt tears begin to prickle in her eyes, but commanded herself not to let them fall. She didn't want Ginny to think that she was some blubbering fool or something.

"Yes, right. Well the incantation is Roentgenesco. It's a variation on a vanishing charm with a bit of a Protean thrown in."

She said all of this as if her audience should obviously know what she was talking about. Of course Ginny didn't, but she didn't want to confess this fact to Hermione.

"It makes you see through things; doors, ceilings, plastic. Thin walls even."

Ginny was obviously impressed by the scope of the spell, if her wide opened mouth was any indicator.

"Did you learn that in your Third Year?"

"Goodness no, I...I sort of came up with it on my own," she said, hoping that she didn't sound half as conceited as she feared she might.

She smiled bashfully at Ginny.

"You see Harry...being Harry...you just never know when that sort of thing might be necessary."

"Galloping Gorgons, Hermione! Is there anything you can't do?"

The praise in Ginny's voice did nothing for Hermione's modesty.

"Well keeping my toast from turning into bits of charcoal does seem a bit difficult, but other than that..." she said cheekily, trying to deflate her own ego as much as she could. Ginny only laughed at the act of self-deprecation.

Hermione then walked over to the wall next to the doorway that led into the kitchen as Ginny followed after her. Hermione expertly raised her wand and pointed it towards the old, peeling wallpaper. With her shoulders squared and her spine straight, Hermione looked perfectly in her element.

"Now I must warn you, you must tread with caution with this spell," she advised her friend.

"Why? What could happen to me?"

"You just might see something that scars you for life," Hermione said. "Honestly, a girl should never catch her parents doing...that ever!"

At first Ginny was at a loss what Hermione could possibly mean, until the other girl's arched eyebrow gave her a clue.

"Oh," she muttered in awe. Then again she said, "Oh!" That time it was laced with near horror.

Both girls nearly succumbed to a lengthy giggling fit before Hermione had the good grace to try and act her age and calmed Ginny and herself down. Once Ginny looked as though she would no longer fall to the floor in hysterics, Hermione cast her spell at the wall. Instantly a picture of Mrs. Weasley standing in her kitchen appeared before them. The Weasley matriarch was cooking, as was normal. She had a bottle of sherry in her hand, the kind she used to make her Sherry Trifle with. Surprisingly enough, until that day, no one ever knew just how much Molly Weasley actually nipped out of the bottle while she was preparing her Trifle.

"Blimey! No wonder mum always seems so happy after making that god-awful thing."

Hermione covered her mouth so she wouldn't laugh too loud.

Both girls continued to look at the wall. The spell was so good that it almost looked like they were watching the scene play out on the telly. Professor Flitwick would have definitely given Hermione an O for her skill. Seeing the admiring glint in Ginny's eyes only made Hermione even prouder of her accomplishment. As the sound of a herd of wildebeest tramping through the house (really only the boys done with their play) was heard, Hermione ended the incantation. Ginny turned to her, idolization and something else....what was it...envy; perhaps...burning in her eyes. Hermione, however, ignored the latter and only seemed to see the former. It was nice to know that she could impress Ginny so easily.

"Cor, Hermione! You know everything!"

And that was how their tenuous friendship began.

"Hermione, how can I get Snape off my back and still pass Potions?"

"Hermione, do you know a spell that can make my robes look new?"

"Hermione, what do you really think of Cho Chang?"

Hermione never tired of giving Ginny her solicited advice. It felt nice that someone truly respected her opinion. Of course she knew that, in their own way, Harry and Ron appreciated all she did for them such as advising them about their homework or trying to keep them out of trouble. But she also knew that at times they did think she was a nag. Ginny, however, seemed to hang off of her every opinion. Ginny's glowing praise and admiring smiles drew her in, moth-like. It would burn her as well one day.

"Hermione....I can't stand it! I JUST CAN'T STAND IT!"

Hermione had just come from Ron and Harry's bedroom. It was the Christmas holidays, and though she was supposed to be in Gstaad skiing the slopes with her mum and dad, she had opted to spend her vacation at Grimmauld Place instead. Hermione loved skiing! It was one of the few sports in which she actually excelled. But when she learned of Harry's prophetic dream, and then his and the Weasley children's flight from Hogwarts right before the end of term, she knew that her place was with him.

Of course her parents had been disappointed, but they seemed to understand how imperative it was to her that she be with her friend. They dropped Hermione off in front of the sidewalk between number eleven and number thirteen, before being on their way to the airport. Hermione barely had time to shake the snow flakes out of her hair or even take off her gloves and jacket before she searched Harry out, her need to see and comfort him being that great.

He had been surly, an irritating step down from his usual moody self, when she first barged in on his hideout in Buckbeak's room. He asked her why she wasn't with her parents. Hermione told him a simple white lie about her not being that good a skier. She instinctually knew that if Harry thought she was chucking her vacation for him he would be even surlier.

Somehow she had managed to get Harry out of that room, fed, and arranged a quasi-intervention for him in his bedroom with the rest of the Weasley kids. By the end of the night Hermione had felt her job had been well done; Harry no longer believed himself to be a vessel of evil, and had returned to being the moody 15 year old boy he had been for most of the year. A definite improvement!

After Ginny and the twins had left the room, more like been hustled out rudely by Ron, the three friends put their heads together and discussed a few other matters before deciding it was time to turn in. In actuality Ron had rudely drifted off to sleep while Hermione had been talking, and she stormed out of the room in a snit. When she arrived at Ginny's room she hadn't been prepared for what the redhead threw out at her, though. At Ginny's outburst Hermione rushed to the side of her friend's bed.

"Ginny, what's wrong? Are you alright?" she asked frantically.

Ginny huffed resentfully at the question.

"Of course I'm not alright! How could you?! How could you not tell me?! I thought we were friends!"

Hermione was at a loss as to what could have sent Ginny into her current state.

"But we are, Ginny," she insisted. "I don't under-"

"Harry kissed Cho?!" she asked demandingly as her skin turned a sallow color that made her freckles stand out.

Hermione finally let out the breath she had been holding once Ginny said that. So that's what this is all about, she thought to herself.

"And?"

Ginny's blue eyes seemed to snap fire at Hermione's apparently unconcerned response.

"AND?!" she snarled, voice dripping in disdain. "Didn't you think I'd want to know something like that? You know I still have a thing for Harry. But instead I had to hear it from the Fred and George, who got the story from Ron. And if Ron knew about it, I know that you did too."

Hermione couldn't be sure, but she thought she almost heard an accusation in Ginny's tone.

The truth was that Hermione had been trying to think about anything but that kiss that Harry and Cho had shared only a few days prior. She had known that Harry had a crush on Cho since at least the end of their Third Year and had felt terribly bad for him when the Ravenclaw turned down his invitation to the Yule Ball that next year. But at the start of the new school term Hermione began to get the impression that Cho Chang had decided to change her tune where it concerned Harry. And for some reason Hermione didn't like it one bit. But since Harry seemed to be so excited over the prospect of dating Cho, Hermione decided to be happy for him.

When he told Ron and her about the tear stained peck Hermione had tried to detach her brain from her own jumbled emotions and explain to Harry the best way she could what she thought was going on in Cho's head. She knew she sounded clinical, almost un-feeling, but even that was better than her annoyance at the pretty Seeker tainting Harry's memory of his very first kiss forever, and her own incredulity at how such a dingbat could have ever gotten herself sorted into Ravenclaw house. The fact that she was having such catty thoughts unsettled Hermione as well. She didn't understand them at all. So she turned her frustrations out on poor Ron, insulting him rather viciously. She convinced herself that he deserved it. The way he was acting one would have thought that he had kissed Cho Chang himself. As if he would ever have the stones to haul off and kiss a girl, Hermione thought with a cruel sniff.

"Of course I knew about it, but...I mean...it's no big deal, Ginny," she said as she seated herself on the bed facing her friend.

"NO BIG DEAL?!"

Ginny looked at the other girl as though she had gone all loopy.

"Besides," Hermione countered, "she kissed him."

It was a petty thing to say, but still...it was true wasn't it?

Ginny frowned.

"That's it then," she said dejectedly. "I have no chance. Cho Chang is pretty, and popular, and plays Quidditch. What more could Harry possibly want?"

Hermione's forehead wrinkled at the remark.

"I hope a lot more than that!"

Ginny rolled her eyes as though Hermione were being purposely obtuse.

"Be serious Hermione, you know what I mean. Against someone like Cho I have no chance. I even tried to take a page out of your playbook and make Harry jealous, but he didn't even seem to care that I was dating Michael."

Hermione was flabbergasted at this admission. She had assumed that Ginny had finally settled on another boy so she could get over Harry. Hermione had no idea that Ginny had done so only to try and gain Harry's attention. It was rather devious. She wasn't sure if she liked this divulgence.

"What do you mean by my playbook?"

"Come now, Hermione," Ginny snickered drolly. "It's not like you went to the Ball with Krum because you enjoyed his excellent conversational skills and his interest in house-elves' rights."

Hermione's mouth fell open, aghast that Ginny would even suggest such a thing. People had been speculating on Hermione's reasons for going to the Yule Ball with Viktor ever since the night it was held. According to half of the population at Hogwarts it was a desperate act to get Ron to notice her. According to the Prophet it was her way of playing with poor little Harry's heart. The truth was far simpler. Viktor had a nice bum. The day Hermione noticed this fact was the day that she conceded to stop hating Quidditch, at least a little. It also didn't hurt that Viktor was the first boy who had ever recognized Hermione as something more than just a pal, or a potions partner, or worse, a last minute pity date.

"I was not trying to make Ron jealous!" she insisted. "As though I needed the trouble! He just went from being a clueless blind git to being a jealous blind git. Who, might I add, was STILL CLUELESS!" she fumed. "And just so you know, I went with Viktor because he happened to find me interesting," she said haughtily.

Ginny's lips twisted themselves into a smirk.

"I bet he found two things about you very interesting."

Ginny outright laughed at the pink shade that Hermione's cheeks turned.

"In fact, if I didn't know better, I would think that Malfoy's spell had been aimed lower."

Hermione couldn't believe that Ginny would even say such a thing! Of all people Ginny knew how self-conscious Hermione was of the growth spurt she experienced shortly after term began the year before. Hermione was so confused by the rapid change in her body that she had begun to wear her robes and school uniforms looser. Only Ginny and a few other girls in Gryffindor seemed to notice the change, thankfully.

However that summer, when she had shown up to Grimmauld Place wearing nothing but a plain white cotton polo shirt and a pair of worn jeans, it became obvious that Ron had finally noticed the difference as well. In fact his eyes kept drifting down her shirt front whenever she spoke to him. Hermione was torn between feeling flustered that Ron would even look at her that way, smug that now she could compete with the likes of Hannah Abbot and Lavender Brown, and incensed that the redhead would treat her as though she were some piece of meat. Unhappily, she didn't know which she felt stronger so she ignored the matter altogether. Besides Harry didn't seem to notice, so she figured that it was no big deal really.

"You're getting to be as crude as your brother," she said glibly.

Ginny's smile instantly fell from her face, and she looked like she was going to hit Hermione.

"OH, SO YOU'RE TOO GOOD FOR MY BROTHER NOW, EH?!" Ginny accused.

"WHAT?!"

Ginny paused, as if realizing all at once the horrible words that were coming out of her mouth. She jumped off of her bed and scurried over to where Hermione was seated.

"Sorry, Hermione," she apologized. "It's just this whole Harry thing is making me nutters. But I might as well accept it; a girl like me could never hope to have a boy like that. Besides I should be used to getting things secondhand. Why not a boyfriend as well," she sighed dismally as she looked at the floor boards. "I might as well settle for someone like Goyle or Neville," she said with a snort.

"Ginny," Hermione said reproachfully, "do you even know who Harry is? Harry doesn't give a fig about that kind of thing."

These words only seemed to make Ginny despondent. Hermione decided to change tactics.

"If it makes you feel any better, this thing with Cho is just a passing fancy," she said, trying to cheer her friend up. "Harry will be over it in no time, you'll see"

Ginny looked up at her suspiciously.

"And how do you know that?"

Hermione grinned back at her cheekily.

"Because I know my Harry Potter."

Instead of finding what Hermione said funny, Ginny seemed to mull it over seriously.

"Yes," she muttered. "Yes, you do. There's probably no one who knows him better, not even Ron."

Hermione blushed at the statement.

"That's probably why he listens to everything you say."

Hermione quirked a smile.

"Harry? Listen to me?"

"Just look at today for instance. All of us had been trying to get Harry out of that room for hours. Then you show up, and just like that he does. Just like that!"

For some reason Hermione was made uneasy by Ginny insinuations. It made her a tad tetchy.

"Oh yeah," she snidely retorted, "just like that! Never mind the fact that my hair is still slightly singed from where it made the acquaintance of the patented Potter Death Glare."

Ginny ignored Hermione's denials.

"It's not surprising, is it? Harry has been relying on you since last year."

"Yes, when nearly the whole school ostracized him," Hermione argued.

"In fact the amount of influence that you have over him is almost unsettling."

Ginny began to twist a lock of her hair lazily.

"I bet you could convince Harry to do almost anything."

Hermione felt the hairs on the back of her neck bristle. She didn't care for the feverish light in Ginny's eyes, or the intensity of her words.

"And what would I convince Harry to do?"

"Well, I know you don't like Cho..." Ginny began cautiously.

Hermione began to protest, but Ginny stopped her.

"Don't deny it. It's written clearly on your face. Now if you told Harry how you fee-"

"No," Hermione said in a low, steady voice.

"Hermione-"

"I said no! Even if I had the power to sway Harry's opinion, which I don't, I would never do such a thing. I'm no fan of Chang, but if Harry wants Cho I want Cho for Harry. It's as simple as that."

Ginny's blue eyes began to well up with tears at Hermione's heated declaration.

"If you wanted to, Hermione, you could help me get Harry," she told the brunette.

"Well maybe I don't want to," Hermione muttered to herself. Unfortunately for her, Ginny heard every word.

The younger girl didn't say anything for a minute. She just scrutinized the brunette as she sized up the situation before her.

"Hermione," Ginny began hesitantly, "You don't...you don't fancy Harry, do you?"

That tore it! Hermione pitched herself from the bed and went to her trunk. She began searching for her flannel pajamas, the ones with the yellow ducks on them. She couldn't explain why Ginny's question set her off. All she knew was that she wanted to remove herself as far away from the other girl as she could manage. As soon as she found the pajamas, she turned around so that Ginny wasn't in her sight and began pulling her clothes off, throwing them on the bed haphazardly. This was not at all like Hermione, neat freak extraordinaire, but she barely cared about how wrinkled her clothes would be in the morning. As she pulled up the pajama bottoms and put on her shirt, she tried to calm her nerves. But her hands shook as she tried to fasten the delicate buttons of the nightshirt.

"Hermione..." Ginny tentatively murmured as she got up from the bed and walked towards the upset girl.

"YOU'VE FOUND ME OUT, GINNY," she cried out mockingly. "I'M IN LOVE WITH HARRY! This whole thing with Ron had only been part of my nefarious plot to win Harry for myself. AREN'T YOU SO CLEVER?!"

"Look Hermione, I'm sorry. I really am. Of course I know that there is nothing between you and Harry."

Hermione stopped the assault on the tiny buttons of her top to look at Ginny fully. She knew that what Ginny was saying was true; still she felt a small pang of sadness at the words.

"Nothing but friendship, that is. I don't know what could have come over me to suggest otherwise."

Ginny grabbed Hermione's hand and led her back to her bed. They both sat down on it facing each other. Ginny continued to hold Hermione in her grip.

"I know how important that friendship is to you too."

Hermione released the breath that she had no idea she had been holding. Her drumming heartbeat that had been pounding wildly in her chest finally slowed to a livable rhythm. She began to relax at Ginny's calming, dulcet tones.

"But just think about it, Hermione," she continued, "Harry may one day have a girlfriend who doesn't understand the connection that you two have. Who might not like the fact that the person closest to him in all the world is another girl. She might even try to cut you out; make Harry choose, you or her. Who do you think Harry would choose?"

Tears threatened to fall from Hermione's eyes, but she bravely held them back. Something in her told Hermione that she didn't want Ginny to see just how her words were affecting her. Was that it, Hermione wondered. Is that why I've been having such nasty thoughts about Cho? Do I think she would turn Harry against me? That line of reasoning started to make a dull, vague sense in Hermione's troubled mind. She had been so used to being the only girl in Harry's life that now that she was going to be replaced, by a girlfriend of all things, her muddled feelings had started to surface. Hermione knew that a girlfriend would trump a best friend every time. So was Ginny right? Would Harry forget about her just to chase after some pretty face?

"But if I was Harry's girlfriend," Ginny said, intruding on Hermione's thoughts, "you wouldn't have to worry about that. None of that silliness would ever come up. Then you could be with Ron and I could have Harry."

Ginny embraced Hermione in a firm hug.

"Then we would almost be like sisters," she said into Hermione's shoulder. "Wouldn't you like that? Wouldn't that be perfect?"

Hermione's skin began to crawl at the suggestion. For some reason the idealized family portrait that Ginny painted sent waves of disquiet through Hermione's already tempest-tossed thoughts. Would she really like that, Hermione wondered. Was that what she really wanted?

"Well," Ginny said as her voice turned steely, "wouldn't it?"

"Of course," Hermione proclaimed in a wan voice.

Ginny pulled back from her and beamed a large smile.

"You'll help me then?" she asked.

Hermione sighed resolutely.

"I can give you advice; tell you what you need to know about Harry. But I am not going to break up Harry and Cho for you," she said, her voice razor sharp and defiant.

"That's fine, that's fine," Ginny replied quickly, too scared that Hermione would change her mind on even that much. "I know that with you helping, Hermione, Harry will be sure to come around to me in no time. You know everything after all."

Hermione smiled weakly. Yes she did. Hermione knew it all. If Ginny wanted Harry she knew just how to make it happen. Besides it wasn't such a bad idea, was it? Ginny was the kind of girl she would want for Harry if she had to choose; down to earth, good humored, sweet, with some intelligence to her. It also didn't hurt that the young girl had the makings of a great beauty some day. From the pictures Hermione had seen the girl even shared a vague resemblance with Lily Potter. If she had any real trepidation with trying to help Ginny, the inner romantic in Hermione quelled it. It would seem fitting that the Hero would finally find the girl of his dreams standing right beside him, the girl who had been pining away for him all along. It would be perfect. With that thought, Hermione's mind was settled. She wanted Ginny for Harry.

It was just too bad for Hermione that she had yet to realize that she wanted him too.

Of course at the time she didn't know what she felt for Harry was the first flush of love, real love...the kind of love that seemed to possess you wholly and held you in its grips 'til you were wrung dry, because she thought it was the Weasleys' youngest boy she had been meant for. Hermione had felt the first romantic stirrings of her heart all at the tender age of 12. Draco Malfoy had called her a name, a horrible, terrible name and Ron had drawn his wand on the blond boy to defend her. Of course the sensible part of Hermione's brain told her that she should have found such displays of testosterone vulgar and uncouth. But there was another side of Hermione, a side that she often camouflaged with her books and her big words that found the whole thing terribly dashing. That was the moment she settled on what she wanted. It took five years for Ron to finally catch up to her, but when at last they became boyfriend and girlfriend Hermione was sure that everything was as it was supposed to be.

Then one night she awakened from a deep enchanted sleep where she had dreamt of a man with dark hair that she loved and wanted above all things. Her heart quickened at his smiles. Her skin burned wherever he kissed it. In his arms she felt a bliss that made her want to laugh and cry...and cry and laugh and just...be. Hermione was sure she had never experienced such joy, such indescribable happiness in all her life. As she felt her conscious mind slowly ease itself from its dream state, she tried to hold on to the thread of that other life, the life that she didn't want to leave, by the tips of her fingers. Instead it slipped effortlessly from her grasp. But as her eyes slowly began to open she smiled a content, blissful smile. He had followed her out of her dream world and into the real one. Then her eyes focused clearly and Hermione realized that it was Harry. That it had been Harry all along.

Hermione had wanted to die in that very moment. She wanted to find some corner, in which she could squeeze herself into, and just cease to be. Her mind felt like it couldn't deal with the ramifications of what she now knew to be true. Because she did know that the dream only told her the truth. She realized it as soon as she saw Harry's worry worn face looking down at her while they were the only two people in the Head Girl's bedroom. She did love him. She loved Harry Potter with all that she had. It was that simple.

Except for the part where her boyfriend was probably somewhere nearby.

And that's when Hermione began to cry.

The transferring of her affections from one best friend to the other had been so seamless that she hadn't even noticed the difference until it was too late. Just one day while her mind and her eyes had been doggedly looking towards Ron, her heart and her soul had turned to Harry. And that's where they remained. Even now that she had returned home to England.

As Hermione made her way down the Burrow's staircase, she had to wonder what folly had brought her back to this place. She was still in love with Harry, nothing had changed. Did she really think that she could come back and pick up where she left off as though nothing had happened? Did she really think she could go back to ignoring the plaintive longing of her heart whenever her thoughts turned to him? Did she really think this was a good idea?

When she hugged him the night before she could feel the altogether kind heart and innate goodness that made Harry...Harry still there, and she'd had to force herself to let him go. Now, as she walked down the stairs, Hermione made the decision that for as long as she chose to remain in England the only way she could handle the whole worrisome dilemma was to be aloof with him from then on and pray that he not notice. In Hermione's opinion the alternative was akin to begging for trouble.

If she found herself in Harry's arms again she might not want to ever let go. How then could she possibly explain that? No, thought Hermione, shoulders set firmly in determination, the best thing for me to do is try and keep my distance as best I can. Hermione was highly impressed with her plan of action, thinking that it would be a piece of cake. Then she neared the end of the staircase, looked up, and spied before her the very man whose visage was imprinted on her soul.

Who the hell was she kidding?

Harry was facing her in profile, his long onyx black hair lying past the collar of his dark scarlet robes. Hermione wondered at the weight of all of that hair and imagined for a second what it would feel like if it rubbed against her cheek. His shell pink lips were slightly parted, as if she had caught him in the midst of a thought. And as his tongue slipped out to capture a droplet of moisture along the ridge of his upper lip, Hermione reached out a hand to clutch the banister of the stairs. That was when she realized that this all might not be as easy as she had hoped.

"Well hello there, stranger," she said as she plastered on a bright, sunny smile and reached the bottom step of the stairs.

Harry turned in her direction, and at the sight of her his emerald fire eyes seemed to dance. Hermione had to force one leg before the other in fear that she would go jelly legged any moment at the sight of him. She wanted to curse herself. Here he was excited to have her home, nothing more, and she was acting like some addled brained, lovesick teenager.

"H-Hermione, h-hello," Harry stammered out as he met her at the stairs.

"And what pray tell is a nice boy like you doing in a place like this?" she shamelessly teased. Really how could she resist when he looked so damned delectable standing there, staring innocently at his dear and trusted friend?

Bastard!

Harry seemed to miss the coquettish note in her voice and bewilderedly asked, "Huh?"

Hermione sighed deeply.

"It's almost one o'clock, Harry. Why are you here? Aren't you supposed to be at work?"

She crossed from the stairs and fully entered the kitchen. Molly was bustling back and forth between the table and the stove, while Hermione detected the scent of Eggs Florentine in the air, a favorite of hers. She turned to continue speaking to him and found that he had followed closely behind her. A tad too close for her liking. They were practically nose and nose. Well...nose and chest. He had such a nicely toned chest. Damned Auror robes were practically indecent, if you asked her!

Hermione self-consciously took a step back.

"Not playing hooky, I hope?" she asked quickly once she regained her composure.

Harry seemed to be as uncomfortable from the fleeting brush of their bodies as she was, because he acted just as flustered.

"Oh!" he exclaimed. "Oh no, I'm...I'm not skiving work."

His face relaxed into an easy smile.

"I'll have you know that I am on official Department business."

"Right," Hermione wryly answered him as one of her eyebrow arched upwards. "And this departmental business wouldn't have anything to do with Molly's cooking, I suppose?"

By this time she and Harry had both made it to the table and were sitting down, Harry right next to her. Two mugs of black coffee sat on the table as well as a creamer and a bowl of sugar.

Harry sent her a cocky grin that made her want to slap him. Or kiss him. Maybe both. To keep her mind from going down that particular path, Hermione began to haphazardly shovel mounds and mounds of sugar and cream into her cup with a teaspoon. Harry didn't notice her discomfort; instead he kept up the idle chit chat.

"And what if it does? Bloke's got to eat. Besides, who could turn down Molly Weasley's Egg Florentine?"

Molly had just approached the table in time to hear Harry's high praise.

"You dear, dear boy," she cooed as she placed a plate of the egg dish of spinach and cheese in front of both of them. She then patted Harry's head adoringly before placing a quick kiss at Hermione's temple.

"You two tuck in," she said as she turned to attend to some other matter. Harry did so gladly.

"Honestly Molly, you didn't have to go through all of this trouble for me," Hermione meekly said, knowing that any protest on her part would be pointless.

Molly pointed her wand at the few dishes she had currently in the sink and they began to magically wash themselves.

"No trouble at all dear. I actually tried to wake you up earlier so you could eat with the rest of the family, but you put the pillow over your head and mumbled, 'five more minutes mum'."

"Oh my," Hermione remarked, turning pink. Harry almost spit out his food, he was laughing so hard. Hermione sent him a nasty glare before turning back to Molly.

"Where is that adorable little Dash and his sister, Molly? I was hoping to get better acquainted with them. They're too young for day school, aren't they?"

"My yes," answered Molly. "But since Fleur had an appointment today with Healer Bones-Goldstein, she decided to just take the little ones with her. I told her to just leave them with me, but she said she wanted to give me a break for once. She's such a lovely girl that way."

Hermione bit on her lip to keep herself from smiling. There was once a time when Molly Weasley would have rather hexed Fleur Delacour so much as look at her. What a difference a happy marriage and four or five grandchildren made, Hermione couldn't help but think.

"Poor dear had to take a temporary leave from Gringotts. This last babe has been troubling her so. But such is a witch's lot in life," Molly added wistfully before returning to her chores.

Hermione was very proud of herself for not rolling her eyes at the woman's archaic ideals. She glanced over at Harry and saw that he was watching her, and judging from the joshing glint in his eyes, probably knew exactly what she was thinking. She playfully stuck her tongue out at him before she began to clear her plate.

"Harry..." Charlie began as he came bustling through the door that led from the parlor, but stopped as his eyes landed on Hermione.

"Oh, hello there again, Hermione," he greeted her with a bold grin. She smiled and said hello back to him.

Charlie then focused his attention on Harry again.

"I hope you don't mind, mate, but I took a jump start on looking into this Vipertooth business for you. I just sent Gerda a note, but there's no telling when she'll get back to me. Last I heard from her she was still in Greenland chasing down a species thought to be extinct, the Snowdragon."

"The Snowdragon?" Hermione gasped. "But I thought that it was just a myth."

Charlie smiled brightly at her, warming to the topic.

"So did I, 'til Gerda found fragments of an egg that didn't match any other known species on record near the Baffin Bay. Gerda wanted me to accompany her when she first set out, but I was still finishing up my program in Sweden." He then turned back to Harry. "Anyhow, as I said before it might be a while 'til I hear from her again."

At this Molly sent the muffin pan she had used to cook with crashing into the cupboard. She looked terribly cross as she faced her son.

"STILL WRITING TO THAT WINKLER WOMAN, EH?"

"Mum," Charlie groaned as he rolled his eyes. "Sorry I couldn't be more help," he directed to Harry. "I'm just not that familiar with the dragons of the Americas, especially the Peruvian. But Gerda should be able to help you. There's nothing that Gerda doesn't know." he said matter-of-factly.

"Thanks Charlie," Harry replied. "I can't tell you how much this means," he said as he lifted up the steaming mug of black coffee to his lips, and cautiously took a sip.

Hermione had no clue who this Winkler woman was, but by judging from Molly's reaction, she was certainly no friend of Mrs. Weasley. Molly began murmuring hot epithets under her breath that always seemed to end or begin with the phrase, "that woman". Molly then stormed out of the kitchen and into the parlor. Charlie sheepishly smiled at the room's other two inhabitants, before chasing after his mother to calm her down. Suddenly something began to snap into place for Hermione.

"That's right," she said as she turned towards Harry, "you did say that you had some big case you were working on. What's it about?" she asked after taking a long sip out of her cup.

"Erm..."

Harry had been doing that since she had first met him. As much as it irritated her to no end, Hermione always thought he was at his cutest when he was at a loss for words. It also reminded her that no matter how much Harry aged, when you got right down to it, he was that same 11 year old boy she once knew. Thoughts like that always comforted her for some reason.

She looked at him over the rim of her cup.

"Your case, Harry. What's it about?"

It was obvious that Harry didn't want to discuss it with her for whatever reasons, but she didn't quite understand why he was acting so oddly about it.

"I...um...it's confidential," he just barely managed to spit out.

"Confidential? Really now, Harry," she said as she smirked at him and put the cup down, "when did you start keeping secrets from your best friend?"

"Probably 'round the same time she started keeping them from me," he darkly muttered, eyes never leaving his now cleaned plate.

She had only meant the statement as a joke, but Harry seemed to take it to heart and lashed back out at her. Whoever said that words couldn't kill obviously left out the part where they sure as hell could maim you if given the chance.

"Oh..." Hermione barely squeaked out. "I see."

For a second her eyes burned, but she fought down the urge to cry. Instead she pushed away from the table, her brunch barely eaten, and walked over to the hearth where Crookshanks was stretched out. At the sight of her he stood up, and she leaned down to scoop him up in her arms.

At least you still like me Crooks, she ruefully thought as she nuzzled her face into the cat's neck and he purred affectionately back at her.

"Shite!" Harry clumsily swore as he left the table and walked over to her, arms before him in supplication. "Hermione, I didn't mean for it to come out like that."

"And yet it did," she perfunctorily replied. She kept her back turned to him.

Harry rubbed at the back of his neck in frustration.

"Merlin, Hermione, don't think that I'm not happy to have you back home," he said, a touch of aspiration in his voice. "I couldn't even begin to tell you how much."

Hermione turned to face him then, the plaintive tone of his voice almost unnerving her.

"But...just exactly how long are we all supposed to pretend that you didn't run away?"

"I did not run away!" she snapped furiously. "Children run away! I AM NOT A CHILD!"

She brushed past him and sullenly made her way back to the table. She threw herself into her chair and rested Crookshanks in her lap.

"I know you're not a child," he remarked as he walked and stood over her. "However right now you are acting like one."

"What do you want from me, Harry?" asked Hermione nastily as she cut her eyes away from him.

"I want to know why you left...us," he evenly replied. "I want to know why you stayed away for five years and didn't even bother to send a note letting us know that you were still alive."

Harry dropped to his knees and forcefully turned her around to face him. Hermione, however, refused to meet his eyes.

"I want to know what you're hiding."

That statement got a reaction from her. She swiveled her head in his direction; her eyes widening, her mouth dropping open.

"You might still be smarter than me, Hermione, but I'm not dumb," Harry plainly stated.

"Look Harry I..."

"...AND IF I EVER LAY EYES ON THAT WINKLER WOMAN AGAIN, THERE'S NO TELLING WHAT I'LL DO!" came Molly's raised voice, interrupting whatever Hermione might have said. Molly had her back turned as she re-entered the kitchen, while Harry got up off the floor and took his seat again.

"We'll finish this later," he leaned over and whispered in her ear, sending chills down her neck. Hermione couldn't figure if it was from the proximity of his lips near her sensitive skin, or the fact that she was scared as hell that he actually meant what he said. In either case, Hermione strengthened her resolve not to get left alone with Harry any time soon.

"Harry, if you know what's good for you, stay away from that so-called 'Dragon Huntress'," Molly disgustedly advised him. "She's nothing but trouble. All of those young boys...apprentices," she said, sneering the last word, "calling her mother, disgusting! If she wanted a young boy to call her mum so bad she should have had one of her own!"

Molly plopped herself down in the chair on the opposite end facing Hermione. She seemed oblivious to the tension between the two friends. Hermione wanted to keep it that way.

"Well," she said as she exaggeratedly looked at her watch, "as much as I would love to stay and chat, I really should try to make some headway on finding myself a flat."

She was about to place Crookshanks on the floor when she realized that she hadn't seen her dog since coming downstairs.

"Where's Lizzie?" she asked Molly.

Molly practically beamed at her. It was obvious that the older woman had fallen under Lizzie's spell. Wherever Hermione took her people couldn't help but fall in love with her shaggy beast.

"That darling dog of yours met the acquaintance of a bumblebee and had the pleasure of chasing it around since dawn," Molly tittered. "Now I think she's just sunning herself."

Hermione left her seat to walk over to the kitchen window above the sink that faced the backyard. As she looked out of it, she caught sight of the dog lazily rolling back and forth in the grass, her tongue hanging happily out of her mouth.

"Oh Lizzie," she lovingly sighed.

"In fact she looked like she was having so much fun that the older children wanted to chase bumblebees all day as well," said Molly jovially as she joined Hermione at the window. "Arthur had to force them to go to school."

Hermione chuckled.

"That's just Lizzie for you. She's never met a butterfly...or a squirrel...or a frog for that matter, which she didn't like."

She turned to face Molly as she continued to stroke Crookshanks.

"By my house there was a duck pond that I just couldn't keep her out of. It seemed like I was forever trying to get rid of the scent of wet dog."

"Well she's a sweet girl."

It was at this point that Crookshanks obviously decided that he had enough of the admiring talk centered all on the competition. He jumped down from Hermione's arms, and instead slinked his way over to Harry where he rubbed against his leg before being lifted onto his lap.

"Aww, Crooks, I did miss you," Hermione insisted while trying not to laugh. She had walked back over to the table and was standing next to Harry's chair. Crookshank, however, moodily turned his head from her.

"That's right Crookshanks," said Harry as his eyes twinkled, "us men have got to stick together."

"You're not helping," she said with feigned severity.

Harry laughed.

"You know I would have never figured you for a dog person," he said.

"That makes two of us then," Hermione answered. "I didn't even think I liked them until I found her. Or I should say, until she found me. I was driving late one night when she ran out into the middle of the road. I almost lost control of my truck trying to avoid hitting her."

Molly turned away from the window to face the other two.

"Did someone lose her?"

"That was my thinking at first. She had no license or registration on her, but she looked too well cared for and loved to be a stray. I took her home that night and instantly started looking for her owner. I put up signs, made calls, but nothing ever came of it, thankfully. It only took me a few weeks before I couldn't bear the thought of being parted from her. I've had her for five months now."

"What are you going to do about Crookshanks?" asked Harry, giving the cat a scratch behind the ear.

Hermione folded her arms and regarded her old friend for a moment. Of all of the loose ends she knew she had to tie up upon returning, a custody battle for her house cat had never entered the list.

"I don't know," she honestly answered. "I did miss him, yes I did," she said directly to the fur ball as she petted him lovingly. "However it seems a bit brutish of me to snatch him out of the arms of a little girl, doesn't it? Then again Crooks could have already made his decision."

"What do you mean?" Harry curiously asked.

"Well...Crookshanks was my familiar, a witch's cat. When I decided to no longer be a witch, he decided to no longer be my familiar," she carefully explained. "Of course you did jump the gun a bit old boy," she joked as she hunkered down on her heels and nuzzled her face to Crookshanks'.

She pulled back and looked at Harry.

"Then again I could just be over reaching and Crooks only left to get away from my incessant snoring," she said in jest.

Harry's brow furrowed.

"But you don't snore," he said innocently enough, right before realizing what a loaded statement it was. "I mean..." he mumbled, trying to fix his own mess, "I just remember that you don't. S-s-snore th-that is."

Hermione froze; too scared to look over her shoulder and see the peeved expression she knew just had to be on Molly's face. Good job Harry, she waspishly fretted in her head, just announce to your mother-in-law that you and I have been in a bed together before. And while you're at it, mention the fact that her baby boy also came along for the ride. Old-fashioned Molly would probably just love that. Probably mention it at the next Weasley family gathering...in Hell, Hermione mused.

"Yes, well," Hermione said trying to change gears quickly, "I'm sure Ron's little one and I will work something out eventually."

She stood up.

"But for now I must leave you, Crooks. No decent landlord will have me if I show up with a cat and a dog. Probably think I'm running some sort of petting zoo."

She turned to Molly finally.

"Do you mind terribly watching Lizzie and Crookshanks?"

Molly smiled and said, "Of course not dear. I'll be glad to."

Hermione sighed in relief as she smiled back at her.

"Oh," Molly chirped lightly, "here's a lovely idea. Since it's already so late, and I'm sure you aren't looking forward to the drive into London, why don't you let Harry Apparate you over and then keep you company? That way you two can spend some time alone together and catch up."

Oh God!

"Say, now there's an idea," concurred Harry as a huge grin spread from his left to his right ear.

Yes, a bad idea. A very, very bad idea.

The last thing she wanted was to be left alone with Harry. She might do something rash like trip, fall on top of him, and snog him to death. Or if he kept hounding her she might just slug him one good time. By the scrutinizing look he was giving her, Hermione figured that it was probably going to end up being the latter.

She tried to calm her nerves and retain her cheery outward disposition. But Molly's proposal had all but sent her screaming out of the room.

"Well as wonderful as that thought of yours is Molly, I'm sure Harry has more important things to do with his day then worry about little old me," she anxiously said.

"Actually I don't," he replied as cool as a cucumber.

Harry unzipped his Auror robes to reveal the simple white dress shirt and black slacks underneath. Even when dressed so plainly, to Hermione's mind he still looked so damned good! This won't do, she thought to herself fearfully. This just won't do! She had to find a way to put him off the idea.

"But you have to work, Harry."

"I'm on an extended lunch break."

"Then you should see about your wife," she said sharply.

Harry dropped Crookshanks to the floor and leaned back in his chair as he said, "She's at the spa."

Molly clucked her tongue in disapproval as she began to clear the table of the few plates and cups. Either the woman was as thick as a post, or she was blatantly ignoring the heated looks that Harry and Hermione were trading. Hers read vexed. His said that he had her right where he wanted her.

Smug bastard thinks he knows why I don't want to be left alone with him!

"Listen," Harry began slowly, trying to ease Hermione into his idea, "I'll shrink your truck, we'll pop off into some back alley somewhere, and then we can take it from there."

Hermione eyed him apprehensively. It sounded easy enough, but when had anything in her life been easy.

"Think of it this way; if the promise of my charming company isn't enough to sway you, just think of all the quid you'll save on petrol."

Then he decided to play dirty with her. He flashed her a bewitching smile.

"You know you want to say yes, Hermione."

In truth she didn't really want to, but Hermione said yes anyway.

~~**~~ ~~**~~

"Dwight Yoakam...Travis Tritt....Toby Keith?"

Harry held up a CD case of a man in a cowboy hat with a sulky, disagreeable look on his face and showed it to Hermione.

"Are these actually their real names?"

Hermione took her eyes off the road for a moment to look at what Harry was holding. She frowned.

"Keith? I thought I destroyed that one," she said bemusedly. "Well, no matter."

She pressed a button near her left arm. All of a sudden Harry's window came down, Hermione stretched her arm across to pluck the offending CD out of Harry's hand, and she unceremoniously threw it out the window.

"There," she said as she pressed the mysterious button again, this time sending his window back up, and smiled at him triumphantly. "All better now."

Hermione and Harry were in her truck pulling away from a bed-sit in Maida Vale. The place was too small for her liking and she didn't really care for the neighborhood. She had already seen several lovely crawl spaces in Little Venice, Marylebone, and St. John's Wood. Before she and Harry had set out on this little adventure she had already done her research, looking up rooms and flats to rent on the trusty laptop she took with her always. She really thought that finding a place to live in London would be easy. How naive she had been.

Every other place she had lived in previously had practically fallen in her lap; she figured this time would be no different. The three bedroom in Diagon? The landlord had practically thrown the keys at Harry when word got out that the Savior of all Wizarding kind needed a place to live. He probably would have let her, Harry, and Ron live there free of charge if she hadn't negotiated a deal on the monthly fee, much to Ron's displeasure. The place in Brixton? Glinda had already been living there for years when she invited Hermione to move in with her and split the rent. In Dallas she had gone from out one person's door and into another's. But now she was faced with the very real difficulty of finding a place to call her very own that she could live in, but more importantly, live with. Price was really no obstacle. So far it was proving to be a daunting task. She had already run through all of the places she had check marked to see, and she really didn't have any idea where she was going to go next. As she turned west on Elgin, she decided to just keep on driving until she hit something. Anything.

Harry was looking at Hermione as though she had lost her mind.

"What? Don't look at me like that," she told him. "Those aren't my CDs anyway," Hermione explained. "Despite loving Texas, I never became enamored of Country and Western music. Or line dancing. Or football."

She looked at him and smirked.

"It's a rather beastly game. You'd probably love it."

He ignored her little crack.

"If they aren't your CDs, who do they belong to?"

Hermione opened her mouth to answer him, but at that moment her mobile rang. She had left it in the truck the night before, and when she and Harry had first started out, she had seen that she had about twelve missed calls; six from the night before and six that morning. All were from the same number. She picked the phone up and looked at the call screen. After noting the same number of the previous calls, she muted the cell phone and put it back down.

"Those are Collier's," she finally replied. "Poor thing is as blind as a bat, yet won't wear his glasses. After the fifth car accident he got his license revoked. Since I'm such a good friend I took pity on him and chauffeured him about whenever I could. Really great guy," she said as a small smile affixed itself to her lips. "Terrible taste in music, though. Those other disks are mine."

Harry reached into the glove compartment and pulled out a few more cases.

"Joshua Tree...Rio...Journey's Greatest Hits Collection..." he read from off them.

Harry gave Hermione a bewildered look.

"I don't bloody well know who these people are."

Hermione shook her head sternly.

"And to think you were raised by Muggles."

"Yes," Harry said dryly, "and they were so good to me, weren't they," he cracked.

Hermione tried her best not to smile, but failed.

"Touché."

Once again Hermione's mobile began ringing, but instead of answering it, she took the Greatest Hits CD from Harry, and while keeping only one hand on the wheel and one eye on the road, she wrangled the disk into the truck's player. She then pushed a button repeatedly until she reached the song that she wanted and blasted it. The volume of the music drowned out the ringing phone.

"I didn't really discover this band until I got in the States, but I just love them now," she explained to Harry over the opening strains of the song. "Number twelve is a classic."

"Lying beside you, here in the dark

Feeling your heart beat with mine

Softly you whisper, you're so sincere

How could our love be so blind

We sailed on together, we drifted apart

And here you are by my side"

Hermione then cranked the volume up louder. In a shaky, yet serviceable voice she began to sing out at the top of her lungs.

"So now I come to you, with open arms

Nothing to hide, believe what I say

So here I am with open arms

Hoping you'll see what your love means to me

Open arms"

Hermione loved the song and had already worn out one copy of the disk from playing it so often. Harry, however, didn't seem to share her opinion on good music.

"Merlin," he groaned, wrinkling his nose as he leaned forward and turned the volume down. "You mean to tell me that Muggles actually listen to this?"

"As if the Weird Sisters are any better," scoffed Hermione.

"He sounds constipated," Harry said simply as he straightened his glasses.

"I'll have you know that this was one of the greatest male vocalists of his day..." Hermione insisted passionately, "even if he did sound constipated."

Harry knew she was joking by the upturned right corner of her lips. This caused him to laugh out loud which led to her joining him. It was this easygoing air between them that actually emboldened Harry's tongue.

"So this friend of yours," he casually brought up. "Cauliflower is it?"

Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Collier."

"Is he like that flat mate of yours, Ben...something...you were telling us about? I mean...when you say he's your friend, just how friendly do you mean?"

Once again Hermione rolled her eyes. She didn't even turn to look at Harry as she answered him.

"Are you asking me if Collier is gay or if he's seen me naked?" she asked tartly. "You have to be more specific, you see. Because Benitez has seen me starkers numerous times and it never made a jot of difference really."

By the sound of silence that hung in the air one would have thought Hermione's answer had sent Harry into cardiac arrest. Hermione quickly glanced in his direction to check if he was still breathing and met his annoyed green eyes.

"You're teasing me."

A smile curled her lips.

"Harry Potter gets a gold star," she coyly said.

Harry looked like he was getting ready to have some choice words for her. But then her mobile rang again. He looked between her and the phone sitting in the cup holder and asked, "Aren't you going to answer that?"

Hermione shook her head.

"It's a wrong number. Let's see if they will get the message if I turn it off," she said as she silenced the phone with a push of a button.

After a short drive she finally came to a stop and parked the truck. Hermione shut the engine off, took her keys out the ignition, tossed them into her camel purse and without a word to Harry, opened her door and proceeded to climb out of the vehicle. Harry hadn't even realized that Hermione had a destination in mind when she started driving. But as she took determined strides around the front of the vehicle, she approached the cobbled lane that led into a quaint looking cul-de-sac. This was about the time that Harry finally lost his patience with her. He jumped out of the passenger side and before Hermione could get passed him, he grabbed her upper arm to stop her progress.

"Ow! What the hell do you think you're doing, Harry?!" she asked him irately. "Let me go!"

She tried to shake him off, but what Hermione failed to realize was that she was now dealing with a very different Harry Potter than the one she had last left behind. This one was far more imposing. This one had also had years of intensive physical training all thanks to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.

"I'll let you go after we talk."

"Harry, not now," she pleaded.

"Yes now," he said in answer. "I'm not going to let you put this off any longer."

Seeing the determined look in his eyes, Hermione decided that it was in her best interest not to struggle any longer. It would be pointless. Instead she relaxed herself in Harry's grip and turned to face him. He instantly let her go, allowing her to cross her arms before her in a belligerent, closed off manner.

Thinking he was making progress, Harry's gaze softened as he looked at her.

"Why did you leave?"

"I told you all last night I-"

"I don't mean all of that nonsense you were spouting about castles and what not," he said harshly. "You didn't take off like a thief in the night just so you could see some crumbling old rubble in France somewhere."

Hermione's eyes started flashing and she started sputtering indignantly.

"ARE YOU CALLING ME A LIAR?!" she demanded.

"Yes." Harry didn't even blink as he said it. "Yes, I am."

Well that did it! How dare he say something like that to her? Of all the nerve! To actually accuse her of lying! Never mind the fact that it was true, that was beside the point! When the hell did Mr. Oblivious catch a clue? Hermione didn't like this brand new development one bit. She turned to walk away from him, but Harry grabbed her wrist and forced her around to face him. She opened her mouth to protest when all of a sudden she stopped. She felt her vision go fuzzy. His eyes seemed to pin her in place, but she barely had time to notice their queer luster as images started to come at her at lightning speed. She would have asked who was turning on and off the sunlight, because that was almost what it felt like, but she was far too busy watching her life flash before her eyes. Literally!

She was 8 years old and a crowd of jeering children were surrounding her, pointing and laughing...She was 12 and she looked up in wonder at a black haired boy, no older than herself, holding on for dear life to a troll as though he were riding a bucking bronco...She had just innocently entered the Common Room only to see Ron's lips melded with Lavender Brown's...Harry had found her where she was hiding and was trying to comfort her...Harry was holding her hands as they stood before two black coffins...Harry was staring straight at Ginny while Hermione stood behind her, dressed in her pink, silken Maid of Honour robes. Rufus Scrimgeour had just asked if there was anyone who objected to the union...

Hermione pushed Harry forcefully away from her. Her whole body felt as though it were about to combust. Her complexion had taken on an angry red flush. She turned away from him and stormed her way down the cul-de-sac, passing a row of large semi detached houses. Of course Harry followed. He easily caught up and trotted along side her.

"LEGILIMENCY, HARRY?!! You bloody well tried to break into my mind?!!" She turned on him, nostrils flaring. She even swung her purse out and smacked him on the arm. "WHEN THE FUCK DID YOU EVEN LEARN HOW TO DO THAT?!!"

Although she was furious that Harry had actually tried to secretly and sneakily probe her thoughts, she couldn't stop the ghost of the old Hermione from rising up in her. She was simply amazed that Harry was a Legilimens now! Back during the War he was still having trouble blocking his own thoughts, much less even thinking about looking into those that belonged to other people. But now here he was, obviously gifted in the craft and using it on her. And without a wand no less! She had grown accustomed to seeing Harry do bits of wandless magic here and there, but usually only in emergency situations. Obviously he found that this was one of them.

"I've picked up some new tricks since you've been gone," he answered simply. "I rarely do it, not even with suspects. But it does come in handy every now and then.

"Aren't you talented?" she crankily sneered. "Look, I don't know who you think you are, Harry Potter, but I've been away too long just to come back here and allow you to treat me as if I were some common criminal," she fumed as she raised an accusatory finger at him.

She could only imagine the spectacle they were making in front of the residents who lived in the quiet niche.

"I don't care how long you were gone or even where you went! I don't care who you bloody well saw while you were there, Hermione! I DON'T!"

He grabbed the hand that was pointing towards him, eased the palm of his hand along the underside of her bicep, and pulled her closer to him. Hermione felt her pulse rate skyrocket into overdrive at the simple, yet intimate act. She closed her eyes for a moment, trying to steady her nerves.

"But I do care that you went away and didn't even bother to tell me why, Hermione. I care that you've been keeping secrets from your best friend, that you still are keeping secrets from your best friend. I'm sorry that I did what I did, but how else am I going to get you to tell me the truth?"

Harry hadn't let go his hold on her. More than anything she wished that he would just let her go.

"I have no secrets," she retorted high-handedly as she looked at him fully. "I am an open book."

Harry snorted at the remark.

"Why did you and Ron pretend to still be together back then?"

Hermione forcefully removed herself from Harry's strong grip as she said, "At the time I didn't want to burden you with Ron and my problems."

"Burden me?!" he exclaimed as though astounded that she would even say something as simple minded. "After everything we've been through together? Burden me? How could you ever be a burden to me?! I lo-"

Hermione had been facing away from Harry, but turned her head and stared directly in his eyes. He had been saying something and choked on his words. This wasn't so surprising; Harry had never been what one would call smooth when it came to getting his point across. Still, something in his tone had stopped Hermione short. For that matter his face had gone a rather deathly pale shade. The way his eyes bulged in terror made her stomach clench in fear. She felt herself effortlessly slip back into her old role of protector of all things Potter.

"'I'...what, Harry?" she asked as she grabbed onto him, searching his face for signs of whatever was plaguing him. "You...what? Are you alright? What's wrong? What were you about to say, Harry?"

He swallowed hard.

"I looked for you," he croaked tensely as the color came flooding back into his face. "Me and Ron, we looked for you everywhere," he said diverting his attention to the ground as though he found his boots fascinating objects of wonder. "But you didn't take any of the job offers you had."

He caught her eye again.

"I didn't even know you had job offers. I didn't know that you wanted to leave us," said Harry miserably, making Hermione's eyes water. "Why didn't you tell me you had been planning to move away?" he asked her, almost petulantly.

Because you would have talked me out of it, Hermione wretchedly thought to herself. She turned her head to avoid Harry's gaze.

"You were already so busy," she answered. "With Ginny...and all."

She didn't notice him flinch at the mere mention of his wife's name.

"Why didn't you take any of those jobs?" he asked next.

Because you would have found me and brought me back, her tortured soul answered him.

"Changed my mind I guess," she whispered.

Harry tenderly placed both of his hands on her shoulders and brought her around to face him. The pained look on his face was almost enough to reduce her to a weeping mess. It tore her up inside to do this to Harry, to keep from him the answers he was practically begging of her. She had been doing this to him for years, really. Desperately trying to keep him at a distance for fear that he would see...something in her eyes, when she would have given anything to be the one always at his side. Pretending to be happy if only to make him happy. Smiling broadly in his face, when it was all she could do not to throw herself in his arms and confess what truly resided in her heart. But she knew she couldn't tell Harry any of this, no matter how many questions he asked. The funny thing was that there had once been a time when she would have denied Harry Potter nothing. But seven long years of practice had skilled Hermione in the craft of artifice and half-truths well.

"What can I say, Harry," she sighed wistfully, "I was tired. I was tired of being me. I was tired of trying to be everything to everybody. It started to feel like people wanted things from me that I felt at the time I could no longer give. Not then, at least. Ron wanted a wife, Molly and Arthur wanted a new daughter, and the Ministry wanted a loyal and faithful little worker bee. It started to become almost too much."

"But that doesn't make sense, Hermione," Harry countered, looking very confused. "You and Ron had already broken up. Molly and Arthur already considered you one of their own. And you were leaving the Ministry."

"Yes," she agreed, "but it felt like I was just moving towards more of the same. The Minister in Marrakech thought he was getting a...a...superhero or something. Hermione Granger, co-defender of the Magical World, Right Hand to the Man who Triumphed, Greatest Witch of her Age. They wanted a trophy, they didn't want me. And that was about the time I started wondering, was that all I was? Was that all Hermione Granger was? Just some witch?"

Harry was so stunned by these words that he dropped his hands from her.

"Just some witch?! Hermione-"

"Haven't you ever made choices, Harry?" Hermione asked, cutting him off. "Choices that you made at the time because they seemed to be right, but later you realized were so wrong? Choices that you felt that you couldn't live with, but you knew you had to? Choices that you wished, for the entire world you could take back, but you knew you couldn't?"

"Yes," he whispered in a low, strangled voice.

"Well, Hermione Granger did too. So one day I decided I just didn't want to be her any more."

Hermione wrapped her arms around herself and began to slowly walk forward as Harry followed next to her. Her eyes stared straight ahead.

"Nearly a decade of my life had been devoted to being a witch. And at first it brought me so much happiness."

She turned her eyes towards him. She smiled.

"It brought me you and Ron. But then...but then something happened, and I could no longer pretend to fill the role that had been meted to me."

She stopped her progress and turned to face him squarely.

"You must have known I was unhappy for a long time, Harry."

She didn't say it as a question, but he answered with a shaky nod of his head, up and down.

"I decided that being in this world, your world, was never going to make me happy. I could never have the things that I wanted. So I decided to just chuck it all and find my happiness elsewhere."

Harry's eyes began to water and Hermione had to stop herself from telling him that she took it back. That she took it all back. That she didn't mean to say it, not if it made him so unhappy to hear. But her tongue could not form the words.

"And did you find it? Your happiness, did you find it?" he sadly asked.

"For a while," she said as she grabbed one of his hands. "And then I started missing you and Ron frightfully. I would be out somewhere and hear a deep belly laugh nearby. I would turn around praying to see a redhead there and feel my heart sink because it wasn't him. Whenever I saw a man with green eyes I would almost start to cry because they weren't yours."

Harry brought the hand holding his up to his lips and kissed it gently. She felt her whole body involuntarily shiver and drew her hand back quickly so he wouldn't notice.

"That's when I knew that I had to come home," she explained while ignoring the sad expression on his face. "But you see I was so scared. It had been so dreadful of me to just leave the way I did. I started to convince myself that you all didn't want me back, that you had moved on without me. And then I saw Ron's announcement in the paper. Somehow I just knew that it was time to come home. I had to come back for Ron."

Although Hermione didn't know it, those words, however innocently they were meant, nearly ripped through Harry's heart.

"So do you understand now why I did what I did? And why I mentioned none of this last night with all the Weasleys around? Even just a little?"

There; nothing she had told him had been a complete lie. Of course nothing she told him had exactly been truthful either.

"I...uh, I guess," he responded, his voice constrained. "But Hermione, you said that you felt that everyone wanted things from you. What...what did I want from you?"

Hermione stared into Harry's worried, apprehensive gaze and tried to smile. Tried and failed.

"Nothing. You wanted nothing from me."

And that was the one thing she had said all day that she believed was a verifiable fact.

"But because I had to leave Hermione behind, I had to leave you behind as well. And I'm sorry, Harry. I'm so sorry. It wasn't fair to you. But at the time I felt that it was what I had to do. Can you ever forgive me?"

Once again she felt the irresistible urge to just throw herself at Harry and cry in his arms rear up again. But this time she refused to fight it. She tentatively stepped closer to him and encircled her arms around him, pressing her face into his firm chest. She heard the unmistakably rhythm of his heartbeat pound furiously at his ribcage, and felt rather than heard his quick intake of breath. Please forgive me, Harry. Please, she begged in her head. She had no idea what she would do if he didn't. Was he still mad at her? Did he hate her for what she had done? Did he no longer want to be her friend?

All the way on her journey from Cyprus Hermione had decided that even if she couldn't be with Harry, she could still stand beside him. She could still be his friend. Even playing that small role delegated to her was better than having no part of Harry in her life at all. It had taken her five years to accept this. But Harry's minute hesitation almost killed the slim ray of hope inside her that had carried her all the way back to England. She was about to fall into despair, when she felt a set of strong arms circle around her waist and pull her tightly against him. She felt the almost undetectable sensation of lips pressing themselves into her hair. That's when she knew that all was forgiven. He didn't even have to say the words.

They stood there, just holding on to each other, in the middle of the cul-de-sac for a few minutes longer. Maybe hours; time felt irrelevant. They were just Harry and Hermione again. An old, gray haired grandmother happened to peek out of the window of the house they had been standing in front of. She smiled at the couple. She remembered a time when she had been as hopelessly in love as the two before her so obviously were. She briefly wondered if they were going to buy the house for sale at the end of the row, before closing her blinds and giving the two young people their privacy. A little boy on his way home from school passed them and pulled a face. Probably going to kiss or something, he disgustedly thought as he hurried pass them to avoid seeing such a gross display. To everything going on around them, Harry and Hermione were oblivious. Then Harry opened his eyes slowly and actually took a good look around him for the first time.

"Um...Hermione, why does everything look so familiar around here?" he asked as his eyebrows knitted together. "Why do I feel like I've been here before?"

Hermione pulled back from him and giggled.

"That's because you have."

She took one of his hands in her own and began to walk up the path with him again. She pointed a short distance in front of them.

"Right there is where Draco Malfoy nearly flattened your nose and you almost rearranged his face."

At her account, realization began to wash slowly over his features.

"He should have let me. It would have made a vast improvement," Harry said with a smirk.

Hermione playfully rolled her eyes and ignored his statement.

"You see that lamp post?" she asked as she pointed to the end of the path. "It has a dent in it courtesy of the bicycle I got for my sixth birthday. I had begged and badgered my dad to take the training wheels off the bike, although I was no good on it even with the damned things on. Dad tried to warn me that I wasn't ready, but I was a determined little thing. As soon as he let me go I went careening into the dratted poll."

Harry seemed to find her story amusing. He wore a large grin as he said, "Sounds like an epic battle. Who won?"

Hermione smiled triumphantly as she lifted up her left elbow and pointed at the faint scar there.

"Lamp post 1, elbow 12 stitches."

Hermione and Harry came to a halt in front of a beautiful, three floored mock Victorian. Hermione stared at it, a soft little smile on her lips.

"Now that house," she said as she lifted a finger to point it out to Harry, "in that house lived one Eustace Youngfellow. He took me out on my very first date. We went to the cinema."

Harry scowled at her.

"And I'm just hearing about this?"

"Well brother dearest, it's a bit late to do anything about it now. Besides I was 17, it was Christmas break, and you and Ron were nowhere around."

Hermione folded her arm in Harry's and they continued walking as she spoke on.

"We went to see...oh bother...I can't remember what we went to see," she said as she gnawed on her lip. "Something with aliens...and guns...and lots of things getting blown up. A simply dreadful movie. Eustace was a perfect gentleman, though. He was even kind enough to have red hair."

Harry made a chuffing noise that made Hermione laugh.

"Look, I had just watched Ron slobber all over Lavender on the train and I wanted my own pound of flesh. I was miserable company, but Eustace asked if he could take me out again the next time I came home in June. I said yes. Then he died that May."

Harry's steps faltered as he turned his head to look at her.

"Drunk driver," was all she said in answer.

She came to a stop in front of another three story house that looked like it bore a fresh coat of paint. A sign stood in front of it touting that it was for sale. Hermione knew that the five bedroom dream house would fetch a pretty penny on the market. It had when she sold it.

"And this was my house," she said finally as a lonely tear cascaded down her cheek. Hermione, however, was so entranced at being back at her childhood home that she paid it no heed. "Did you know I picked it out myself?" she asked with a proud lift to her chin. "We lived in Sunninghill before this, but when mum and dad moved the practice they wanted something closer to the office. Whenever the Realtor would take them out to look at houses, I always came along. 'Let's let Hermione Jane decide', dad would say. The agent probably thought my parents were completely barmy, letting a 4 year old make a decision like that, but the poor chap held his tongue. We looked at houses everywhere; Kensington, Knightsbridge, Pimlico. Then we saw this one. As soon as I entered the corner bedroom on the first floor, I turned to my mother and said 'can this one be my room mummy'. Dad made an offer for it that very day."

She paused as she gazed longingly at the house. The smile that was on Hermione's face was so heart achingly beautiful that it rendered Harry speechless for a moment.

"I know this house like a mother knows the face of her own child," she affectionately stated. "My mum's study was on the ground floor, next to the kitchen so she could smell it if her food was burning."

"So that's where you got it from."

"Prat!" she said as she smacked him jovially on his arm. "She had a loose floor board in her office and that's where she would hide our birthday and Christmas gifts. Of course dad and I knew about it, but we never ever peeked."

First one, then two fat tears began to slowly crawl down her face.

"On Saturday night's we would play Scrabble in the dinning room or watch one of my mum's old movies in the lounge. Dad always wanted to watch something silly like Our Man Flint, but got voted down every time," she snickered as she wiped half-heartedly at her face.

"Every few months dad would get out his old penknife to mark out how tall I was growing in the kitchen door frame. And on some mornings, though I would have just been measured the day before, I would jump into my parents' bed and shout 'daddy, daddy I dreamt I grew a whole inch in my sleep'. And while laughing all the way, he would march me downstairs, line me up next to that frame and exclaim, 'my oh my Hermione Jane, I think you did'. Of course he was lying, but he had already told me such whoppers about Father Christmas and where babies came from, so really what was one more? So he would pull out his penknife and mark out the new, suspect inch for posterity and ask me, 'Hermione Jane, how did you manage that'. And I would say, 'magic daddy...I used magic'."

The tears had finally begun to fall freely.

"You know, Hermione, I think this is the most I've heard you talk about your parents since they died."

"It probably is," she said as she reached into her handbag and pulled out a handkerchief. She dabbed at her eyes and rubbed her red and runny nose as she tried to regain her composure. "I guess I felt that the less I talked about them, the less guilt I would feel. Faulty logic to be sure," she added as she placed the hankie back in her purse, "but I was grieving so it made sense at the time."

"Guilty?" questioned Harry, baffled at the quick flash of emotions she seemed to have cycled through in such a short period of time. Now her words seemed remote. Dispassionate. "Why would you have felt guilty?"

Hermione looked away from Harry's penetrating stare. Instead she turned her eyes to the cobbled path.

"I killed my parents, Harry. I'm the reason they died."

"Hermione, you aren't making sense. Your parents died in a car accident on their way to a seminar in Edinburgh. You were nowhere near there at the time."

He placed his hands lovingly on the sides of her face and brought it up so he could look into her eyes. Hermione closed her eyes to avoid this.

"How could it possibly be your fault that your parents died?"

Hermione's eyes slowly opened and she asked him a simple question.

"Do you remember Amycus Carrows?"

To Be Continued...

A/N: Next up is the conclusion to chapter 12. Things to look forward to: a trip to France, exorcised demons, and Hermione gets made an offer she can't refuse.

A few more points of interest...

1) All characters other than the Turkish businessman, Holly Darlington, Cynthia Darlington, Amelia Calhoun, Juan Miguel Benitez Cohen, Sebastian Bingham, Collier, gray haired grandmother, schoolboy, and Eustace Youngfellow are canon.

2) Helen Granger is named after the legendary Helen of Troy who, by her husband King Menelaus, had a daughter named Hermione.

3) The lyrics are to the song "Open Arms" by Journey.

4) Amycus Carrows and just how he fits into this whole sordid mess will be revealed in the next chapter.

5) Deeringham's department store, the Snowdragon, the Roentgenseco Spell, as well as the books The Necromancer's Naughty Nymph and The Potion Master, the Witch, and his Magic Wand are all original to this story.

Tell me if you like it. Tell me if you hate it. Just tell me something. Please review.