Unofficial Portkey Archive

Life and Times

Rating: R

Ship: HHr (main emphasis)

The (unlovely) procedure: all rights go to JKR for plot and characters, Scholastic, Warner, and whoever else has their hands in HP.

Author Note: It's taken me a while to muster up the courage to release one of my "babies" into the world. This is my first public fanfic. I tend to write stream of conscious-like, or at least I did here, bringing in aspects of what I like (romance, angst, music, film, psychology) and shaking them up into this consequential mixture of words. Offline, I write screenplays. So, as you're reading, you may feel the fic sway - just stay along for the ride. I'm not sure when I'll update next, but I'll try to update here and there. I'm writing for fun. Enjoy!

***

Season One - Harry's Journey

Chapter One ~ Complicated

What have I done since Hogwarts? Well, as you probably already know the obvious, Hogwarts was shut down after the "demise of Voldemort." Or, at least that's what the Daily Prophet is calling it this week. Last week it was the "infamous fall of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named," and every week I get another letter, stamped with the golden seal of approval, requesting an interview with none other than Rita Skeeter. She got her job back...and, I'll pass on that.

So, what does the "Boy Who Lived," "The Chosen One," do nowadays? I wish I could start my Auror training, for one. Not that I really want to go that route. The whole "Auror" track was pushed on me because of my "superior skills." Actually, I quite enjoy what I'm doing now: living in the Muggle world. A certain sense of innocence or naivety still lays within this world, and I utmost embrace the atmosphere. I wish I were still oblivious to the wizarding version. Would I still enjoy walking the streets of Diagon Alley, window shopping for the next fastest broomstick available without being mobbed by fourteen thousand, three hundred and seventy-two people asking me about the one part of my life I wanted to move past?

Not that I didn't want to have done it. I mean, Fate I guess led me to that last battle, and I somehow escaped with my life. But, the thing is, if I could do it all over again…I'd want to be the normal student walking the halls for a change. The kids that didn't see what I saw the years coming to "the end." Those are the memories I want to forget.

But anyway, for now I'm staying right where I am. Living in Number Twelve, waking up to a beautiful sunrise, jogging, reading a newspaper that didn't involve ME-being normal. Well, as normal as it can get. Number Twelve is hidden, and every time I go back the apartment suite does magically widen to provide me a home. That's something normal people don't have to deal with.

I received a letter a few days ago through the Owl Network. Molly sent a letter nearly begging me to join them for a dinner party they were having. Molly, like a second mother, I couldn't say no to. As much as I loved the pace of this world, I couldn't let go of the other and everyone I loved there as well. She'd send me letters like this, or letters of the "How are you?"-like, and sometimes even a care-package of various baked goods. So, declining the invite would be like declining an invite from any of my other family.

One simple negative loomed in the distance, though. As I packed my bags-knowing Molly would at least ask me to stay the night after the dinner party-I thought of that one memory in my head. The memory repeated itself as if it were a film stuck on loop.

Ginny, "Ginerva," had moved in with Neville Longbottom after we'd all left Hogwarts last year. They were smitten together, and as much as I had these feelings for her, I couldn't make sense of them. I'd think late at night about it. I think, in a way, the feelings I had for Ginny were there because I wanted to belong. Belong, to be a part of the Weasley's that much closer. Not the sort of feelings that would have made either of us happy in the long run and not a foundation for a genuine relationship.

She'd visit me, and Neville, when they'd stop into London to check in with some business at the Ministry. Recently, they were in London to procure a lease to their new flat just north of the London suburbs, in a rural setting, so that their house didn't cause too much attention to itself. Their house, or so I was told, was decked out much like her mother's with all the magical fixings. "Definitely something a Muggle would second-glance at," Ginny had said once over a cup of tea.

Her latest visit, however, spelt out this negative emotion for me in plain words.

"I don't understand that girl at all," Ginny hadn't looked at me as she said this. She sipped her third steaming cup of tea and set it down on the saucer within her other hand. Her eyes were looking at the blazing fire held in its confines in front of us.

"What do you mean?" I glanced over at Neville who in turn shrugged at me and wrapped his arms across his chest.

"I really don't want to get involved in family matters," Neville stated firmly. "Let Ginny tell you, she knows more about it than I do."

"There's really nothing else to be said than what I've already told you," Ginny placed the ornate-decorated cup on the table between our three chairs surrounding the fireplace. She looked me straight in the eyes; the light making her eyes unusually black with just the flicker of white dancing in the corner. "As much as I love my brother, he can be quite a dolt. He's not treating her right."

"What do you mean?" I began to sound like a broken record. You see, I'd gotten letters of their presumed "happiness." That's all I knew since we last spoke together, us three, but that was several months ago. Hermione and I had been sending each other letters, but she never let out she wasn't happy. "The last I heard they were going to go to the country."

"Psshh," Ginny scoffed and looked back into the reddish-orange blaze. She had her arms crossed in her lap and was leaning toward me. "Harry, they haven't moved from my parents' house. That's about as far as the `country' idea went. It was a pipe-dream derived from Hermione, to try and get a grip on their relationship."

I mimicked my guests, folding my arms together and peered into the flame. Had something slipped by me? We were close, Hermione, Ron, and I, and I thought I could read their emotions quite vividly by our proximity. But now, according to Ginny-and I had no reason to doubt her-they weren't happy. I knew Ron had a problem expressing himself. We all knew it. But, Hermione not happy? I didn't like the sound of that at all…then again…

I hadn't worked out these feelings inside me. For moments, in the longest time, I had these dreams. Whatever I was doing at times my mind would trail off into its own universe with Hermione at the lead. She'd be on my mind. "Of course she's on my mind," I'd once told myself in the mirror, trying to snap out of it. "She is your best friend and all. Maybe even moreso than Ron. She gets you."

Then, that same statement reverberated within me one day. A very innocent day it had been, too. Maybe it was because it was a rare sunny day? Maybe it was because I'd gotten an Exceptional on one of my essays I'd actually finished by myself for once in Potions? I'd thought of these excuses after-the-fact. I was asked by Hermione earlier in the day at breakfast if I would study with her for an Arithmancy midterm. Ronald would whine any and every time she'd ask him, and I didn't have a problem with studying at all. That's what we had to do. Get our education.

But, when I rounded that corner in the garden, and saw Hermione sitting Indian-style on that stone bench with her back turned to me and the crystal-clear blue water cascading from the fountain behind her, something hit me like a bag of bricks right in the gut. She turned to me, as if some cosmic connection happened, and she knew I was there. Like our auras signaled the entrance of me, and the sunlight sparkled down her brunette locks draped ever-so down the back of her Hogwarts-insignia sweater. I was instantly stunned.

I wasn't smooth with any of it at all, either. During that one time, she asked me:

"Are you okay?"

"W-what?" I stuttered, breaking my concentration of how her lips moved when she explained the Theory of Mathematical Magic once again out loud. I fidgeted and dropped half my books and loose-leaf on the floor. As I went into a scramble, I said quickly, "What are you talking about?"

She laughed, and when I got back up, papers and books in disarray on my lap, she just looked at me for the longest time as if trying to read me. I couldn't look at her, and then I finally couldn't resist that. The smile on her face made my heart skip a beat, especially when she tucked some of her gorgeous hair back behind her ear as she played with her hair so many times that day.

Ginny broke my string of memory, clearing her throat. She'd tried to glance around at me, swerving her head to the side and looking up to catch some life back in my eyes. My vision blurred, and I blinked back into Ginny.

"He yells and screams at her."

"He does what?!" I blurted out. My eyes widened and I looked between Neville and Ginny. Neville made a disappointed face, scrunching it up in such a way as if he smelled really rotten eggs.

"She's. Not. Happy. Harry." Ginny spoke in such a way, slowed down and annunciated every syllable. I felt like a child being chided for a mistake, an accident.

"…Why are you guys telling me this?" I turned away from Ginny and back into the fire. "What are you expecting me to do? Wave a wand and make everything like it was? Like old times?"

"I'm not telling you, anything," Neville spoke up affirmably. He straightened his slouched posture and pointed a finger from his crisscrossed arms. "She is."

"Way to go for emotional support, dear," Ginny snapped at Neville like a disturbed hornet's nest.

"It's none of our business, Gin," Neville sighed. He took his arms from their position and leaned forward, placing them on his knees. "This is a situation only Hermione and Ron know how to fix."

"This cannot go on for any longer," Ginny looked back at me as if wanting some sort of answer from me. Some sort of assertion to the matter at hand at which I couldn't even grasp. "Something has to be done."

She turned back to Neville, "What if he lays a hand on her? What if the yelling increases into physical confrontation and she gets hurt?"

Ginny looked back at me, "Mind you, if my brother does, he'll have me physically tearing his face off and shoving a boot up his ass. That's my girl he's messing with after all."

"Ginny, hun," Neville sighed again. "I love you, hun. I love how you want to help them, but this is a situation that, if we stick ourselves in too deep, can backfire on us. What if you do something? What if he, or she, tells you to back the Hell off? Then what?"

"She won't do that," Ginny stated under her breath. "She wouldn't. That's my girl."

Ginny looked at me in a way that I couldn't not look back. Her eyes widened, and the blackness of them became white and suddenly her eye color appeared as she lowered and set her hand on my knee. "I just need a little help. I need some support from someone who really knows her. I've tried talking to Ron personally and he's pissed me off. We have to get her out of that situation. I don't want to hear in a year…or less…that that bastard hit her."

A flash of Ron punching Hermione streaked through my mind, and that's all it took. I straightened up in my seat and looked at Ginny back. Our eyes connected and she smiled.

"Thank you," she said.

So, now the adventure began. Staging some sort of intervention for Hermione, and Ron, but focusing on her to possibly get her out of a volatile situation. I didn't have all the information, only the words Ginny had given me that night and some days after. All I could see in my mind was showing up one day, bumping into Hermione somewhere and seeing a bruise around her eye, or her cheek, or trying to cover up her shoulder with an ostentatious, bulky jacket.

I showed up at the dinner party on time. Being late was sort of a cop out, after all. Muggles could be late, what with traffic build up or possibly construction they weren't aware of prior to leaving their house to go from point A to point B. But people like us, having the knowledge and know-how to apparate got us to point B in an instant.

George was tossing around a bludger ball outside to pass the time when I poofed into thin air before him. He became startled, but was pleasantly surprised, dropping the Quidditch equipment to give me a warm bear hug. He even picked me up off the ground, which made me laugh.

"Hey mom!" he shouted, turning round and cupping his hands around his mouth. "Guess who just arrived!? Some short kid with a really wicked scar who says he needs a home!"

I snickered, and before I could take a step forward, the large shadow of Molly came rushing out the door. Her shawl bounced to-and-fro as she nearly leaped, not walked, toward me from their three-story household. She grabbed me in one of those motherly grasps and pulled me to her when she was in range.

"Harry! Harry! Harrrry!" she shook me around in her embrace. "I am just so happy to see you, dear! How are you?! How are things in the Muggle world?!"

"Extremely normal, thankfully," I said into her bosom. She really had me in a lock.

Molly let out a laugh, ringing out into the night and scaring some nearby birds in a tree to flutter away. She let me go but held onto my shoulders to size me up, "Well, well that's just great to hear! But my, oh my…"

She glanced from my toes to the tip-top of my head.

"You're turning into quite the young man, there." She always, always said this every time I saw her and I waited for her next line which always followed. "Why haven't you found yourself a girl and settled down, dear? After all that you've been through, you need a little `arm-candy'!"

"Oh good gracious, mom," George ran his hand down the front of his face and made a gagging noise. "Did you just seriously say `arm-candy'?"

"Oh, hush George, and take Harry's bags to his room." Like I said, she'd want me to stay the night. I smiled at the gesture. This was my second home, and it's not like I didn't want to spend some time with them. It's just that other…little…situation…

I began to move with her, Molly's arm wrapped around my shoulder, and George already entering the house had announced quite loud that some "lanky, homeless kid" had arrived. I laughed and Molly shook me again beside her.

"It's so great to see you here, Harry, it really is."

"I'm glad you invited me to dinner."

"Harry," Molly said this in her most motherly way. "You are welcome here anytime, day or night, rain or shine."

"I very much appreciate it." I gave my second-mother a hug which made her smile so big that I believed that, if anything, that right there made her day.

"And besides," Molly patted my stomach. "Someone has to feed you."

***

The dinner had already been prepped and Ginny, alongside Neville and Mr. Weasley, were setting the table with the numerous amounts of food. The smell of roasted turkey and cranberry sauce caught my attention at first, and as I looked beyond the table, I realized that this could be compared to the first Thanksgiving. Ham and chicken, deviled eggs, homemade stuffing, three types of gravy, mashed potatoes, the grocery list of food could go on and on. The picture of everything and everyone could have come straight off of the front of Southern Living.

Mr. Weasley broke off from the crew. He wiped his hands on a dish towel he'd had over his shoulder and tossed it back across the breadth of his black blazer. He made his way to me and at first shook my hand considerably, but then took me into another embrace.

"Harry! You have grown so much, young man!" He released me and bent down to my eye level. "Time really flies, doesn't it? One day you're on the Hogwarts Express going to your first, frightening day of class, and the next you're here from the bizarre Muggle world. How fascinating life is!"

"Yeah," a made a half-smile and looked away at Ginny and Neville standing beside each other, waiting for their turn at me. I peered back at Mr. Weasley. Two people were missing though from the room. "I guess that's how it is. Take one day at a time."

Mr. Weasley lightly smacked my back and turned to the rest of the family, "This is one brilliant, young man. Great head on his shoulder, confident, knows himself. Good man."

"Dad," Ginny smirked from behind Mr. Weasley. She pried him off me. "Let Harry breathe for goodness sakes."

"I just love that boy," Mr. Weasley's voice trailed off as he went into the kitchen after Molly. "Good kid, positive, true, and I can't wait for all the strange Muggle-stories he has to talk about over dinner. Fascinating stuff!"

Ginny rolled her eyes and looked at me. Her hair was done up and she wore an emerald green dress. I'd always thought green was her color. The choice really brought out her Weasley-red hair in an attractive way.

"He says all that because we love you," Ginny wrapped her arms around my neck in an embrace. "You know that, right?"

"I know, and I love you all back too." I gave her a hug back in response. She smelled heavily of cranberries. I looked at Neville behind her, who smiled warmly at me. He put his hands in his black khaki pants, an emerald green vest matching Ginny's dress loosened in his stance above a reddish shirt resembling a hue much like Ginny's hair.

"How was the trip here?" Neville said smugly. Ginny unraveled herself, and when she did, he put his hand out to me and I shook it.

"Horrible. The roads were jam-packed. I nearly thought I wouldn't be able to make it." I smirked back at him through my sarcastic chagrin. "Hey, if you're leaving on the M25, watch out for that quick left merge lane. It's a killer."

"Ha!" Neville retracted his hand to wrap himself around Ginny from the side. She'd settled along him and gave him a hug.

I fixed the collar of my midnight blue button-up and slid my hands into my black dress pants. I gazed around at the glorious feast before me and sighed happily as Molly rounded the corner, ecstatic to see me still standing there in their home, with an overly-large bowl of steamed vegetables. I thought she skipped back to the kitchen, a hop in her step, after placing the bowl in its already assigned spot on the lengthy, wooden table.

"You make momma very happy when you're here." Ginny whispered to me.

"I know," I said, watching Molly come back out to glance over the table and run back into the kitchen as if she'd left something too important behind. Possibly some confidential files or the Ministry of Defense hit list no one was supposed to know about. I smiled at her enthusiasm and sighed.

"Have you thought about taking her up on the offer?" asked Neville. He tilted his head over to atop Ginny's and planted a kiss.

"I can't move in here," I answered in reply, silently to them. "It's nothing against them, I just think I was ready to move on, grow up, and stop being coddled. I love them to death, it's just-"

"I get it," Neville shook his head in an exaggerated fashion. "I wouldn't want to be stuck being a boy in a man's body."

Ginny lightly punched Neville in his stomach. Neville flinched at her touch. Ginny pointed her finger at him, "There's nothing wrong with my momma."

Neville looked at her, and then at me, "See how violent she is to me? Makes me wonder why I love her so much."

Ginny punched his side this time, but a bit harder than the first, "I'll give you violent."

"Oh really?"

I grinned and laughed at their playful banter. Ginny grinned up at Neville and soothed the areas she'd hit him with the light touch of her palm. Neville, in turn, kissed her lips slightly and ran a hand through her hair.

"You know I love my mother-in-law," Neville said, taking another stroke of Ginny's hair with his hand. He did it carefully as to not mess her wavy concoction up.

"You better," she smiled and leaned her forehead against him shoulder. She glanced over at me and smiled once more. Addicted, I couldn't help but smile back.

I didn't know how to break the ice. The mood was just so…happy. From everything Ginny had told me, what I wanted to ask wasn't. It was the opposite. But, not seeing Hermione, or Ron, down with the family got to my nerves. I'd sneak a quick glance every now-and-then towards the staircase I knew led up to the rooms, and Ron's room where if anywhere, Hermione would be there. As we lightly chatted, rooted in our spot, I finally gave up abstaining from not noticing the elephant in the room.

Ginny, Neville, and I had slowed down a group laugh after joking about something absurd written in the Daily Prophet when I finally asked the million dollar question:

"Not to be the spoil sport here," I looked back around toward the staircase. "But, where are Hermione and Ron?"

"And, it begins…" Neville turned from us and dipped his hands in his pockets.

"Sorry," I called out after him.

"Neville!" Ginny fervently whispered. Although quiet, her tone was punishing when she said his name. She turned to look at me and sighed, "Don't mind him. We had a conversation about this last night and he still thinks this whole `intervention' idea is a disaster waiting to happen."

"Well, it's not like I was going to start something at dinner or anything," I kept my eyes on Neville who approached Molly about something and followed her into the kitchen. "I just wanted to know where they were. Where my friends were and why weren't they down here. It's odd."

Ginny took a step around me and crossed her arms over her chest. She stood, staring up the staircase from the base, and shook her head. I followed her and stood behind her, following her gaze, or at least trying to get to the third and final floor of the Weasley's.

"I haven't seen either of them since about an hour ago. I'm sure they'll be down for dinner when the time comes," Ginny glanced around to look at me. "At least they're quiet now."

"Now?" I stressed the word with vigor in my vocal chords.

"Yeah, earlier today they had another bout. Don't ask me who `won' because I think they lost their voice in the match. I don't even know what they were fighting about, but I did hear some vulgarity…from both sides…," Ginny tightened her arms against her. I put my hand on her shoulder. "That's when mom stepped in because she'd had enough. She went right up those steps and told them both to cool it. I think she even made them hug."

I made a scoff, "That sounds like Molly."

"Yep, momma being momma…but, I don't think her `cure' helped. Now they're just silent, and I don't know if that is a good thing or a bad thing, really."

"…Silence could be a `good thing'?"

Ginny made this knowing smile and left me at the base of the stairs. She giggled a little into her hand and turned to look at me standing there immobile by her action. I felt a little embarrassed, not understanding what she meant at all.

"And, that's why you're so darn adorable, Harry." She said, walking backwards into the dining room. "You still have some of that innocence left within you, and that makes you almost irresistible to be around."

"What? Wait-" What she meant hit me, but it didn't feel good. Of course, my naivety was probably my way of not thinking about this. Repress the thought of them doing…anything. But, that's what two people do that are "in love," right? In this situation, though, that isn't love…which made the image of Hermione and Ron in bed together that much more painful.

***

"Can I help you set the table?"

"No, no dear," Molly patted my head and smiled. "Thank you for the offer, but you're our guest."

"I'm a part of the family, though," I felt a little like taking advantage of them. They'd prepared this extravagant meal with all the trimmings and here I was just walking around in circles not doing much of anything.

Molly's eyes sparkled, "I'm so glad to hear that every time from you, but really Harry, we have it under control. And, actually…"

Molly side-stepped around me and started around toward the stairs. I heard a chair from the table being pulled out and turned my head to see Neville take one out for Ginny. She smiled at him, the candlelight bringing the entire atmosphere of the room glow a surreal orange which reflected off the white cheeks of everyone present. She sat down and Neville tucked her into the table. He followed suit and sat to her left.

Mr. Weasley had situated himself back from carving the meats and started to pull out one of the heads of the table when I spoke up, "Uhm…so, where am I sitting?"

"Oh gracious me, Harry! How blunderous! I'm terribly sorry, truly. Here," He made a gesture with his hand to the left of him on Ginny's right. "That is the perfect place to sit, especially when you tell me all those stories. Wouldn't want to interrupt other people when we really dive into our conversations!"

I laughed, "Thank you, Mr. Weasley."

"For the thousandth time, Harry boy, call me Arthur!"

I'd gotten around Arthur at the head of the table and positioned myself in front of the chair I was about to sit in, "I find it strange calling you and Mrs. Weasley by your first names."

Arthur had sat down by this time, his hands on the table and fully attentive to me, "Harry, you've been with us for years and you're a Weasley in my eyes. You can call me anything you like, really, and I respect your respect for me and Molly, but don't be withdrawn from calling us by our names. We won't take offense."

"I'll-I'll think on it."

"Good boy, and relax a little!" Arthur ruffled a hearty laugh. "You seem all tense tonight! What's got you in a knot?"

The knot tightened when I heard footsteps from around the corner. Molly came out first to the dining area. She went towards the other head of the table, opposite from her husband.

"Look who I found, Arthur."

Molly began to seat herself, and I was about to when I couldn't. Something stopped me in that moment. First, I saw Ron. A bit disheveled, his shirt wasn't tucked in which was like him, ordinary, and his hair sort of up at an angle like he'd been sleeping on it. Behind him was really the opposing reflection.

Radiant, she was, Hermione was brilliant. In my eyes, a spotlight focused directly on her. Everything about her gave no faults. Her beauty was expressed without make-up, natural. Her hair all done up for the evening, and she wore what looked like dark blue silk. The glow of the candlelight brightened the soft folds here-and-there as she walked into the dining room.

The orange atmosphere gave her porcelain-like, soft skin tone an otherworldly blush. She took my breath away, and the feeling became more difficult to contend with when, as if in slow motion, she tucked some of her loose strands of hair behind her ear and smiled at me…just as she did on that one fateful day in my life. I think I grinned from ear-to-ear. I couldn't feel my body anymore.

"Hey, Harry!" Ron stumbled his way around the table after me. I caught him, and he embraced me like a brother. "Dude, if I had known you got here man, I'd have woken up sooner! How you've been?!"

From the corner of my eyes I caught Hermione standing behind a chair looking at us. The smile crossed her face again, but slowly faded away as she looked around at the table.

"Good evening, everyone," Hermione said politely to the group.

Everyone in tune greeted Hermione back in their own way, together. Neville got up from where he sat and stood there, placing his napkin aside from his lap.

Ron embraced me again in his brotherly way and smacked my backside, "We're going to catch up tonight, man."

"Yeah, sure thing Ron," I laughed a little and smacked his back too.

"Hey, Ron, not to be a buzz-kill," Neville said a half-sarcastically. "But your woman is waiting to be seated."

"Oh, I see," Hermione smirked from the side of her mouth. "Harry can meet-and-greet with the rest of you, but I don't even get a hug?"

Ron had already left me to go back around to Hermione by the time I made it over there. I stood, and felt like a moron, in front of Hermione. I gazed at her, her cinnamon brown eyes twinkling by the candlelight, and I at once felt like hundreds of eyes watched me, us. I gulped, and I found it at once difficult to move until I felt her warmth beside me-like a distant memory come back. How many times have I hugged this girl? A bazillion. This time, however, I felt an electric shock when I touched her bare skin. Her arm, her shoulder, her neck seemingly brought all the hairs everywhere on me to attention.

Hermione slid her arms delicately around me and said smoothly, quietly, but in the silence of the room which I realized occurred I knew they could all hear us.

"Hey…"

"Hey," I smelled the scent of her aroma for the first time in a while. The floral aroma of a ripened meadow in the spring came strong to me, and to my still heart.

I closed my eyes some from behind my glasses when I felt her fingers sort of push into my skin from beneath my shirt.

She laughed against me, and breathed, "So, how've you been?"

"Hanging in there…you?"

I heard her sigh, "Okay I suppose…"

"Hey, hey," I heard Ron start from the other side of me. "I don't get a hug like that from my best man?"

"Ronniekins," George said into his hands. He had his elbows on the table watching us, and then Ron. "Lay off the bro-mance."

The entire room laughed into an uproar. I felt now, more than ever, it was safe to break from Hermione…as much as I didn't want to. I wanted to affix to her and stay like that forever as lush as that may seem. I felt eyes linger on me as I crossed back over to my chair and saw not just Hermione's, but Ginny's eyes watch my every action from askance. Ironically, as I sat down with Neville in tandem, waiting for Hermione to be seated, I realized she was seated in front of me.

If I could fight Fate right now, I would. I don't know how long I could keep up the front.

***

The dinner was lively. Thankfully, I had Arthur to keep me busy from thinking about other things, especially when Ginny asked me at the beginning if I "felt all right." Rule number one, if I don't feel all right don't ask me how I am. I get more uncomfortable. But after Arthur's eighteenth question into the subjects of Muggles, this time the question was "What is the Muggle's fascination of chewing gum when sometimes it makes them look oddly contorted," I was feeling a little more at ease.

Ron asked me what I was up to several different ways. Everything I said back he'd make a face.

"You know, magic can do that."

"Yes, I know Ron, but I like doing it this way."

He didn't understand why I ran in the morning, either. Mind you, Ron's exercise left after Hogwarts. He fell out of Quidditch, at least playing it, and went back into solely watching it on television. Now that the World Cup was just around the corner, that was the bulk of our conversation. I hadn't exactly given up Quidditch myself, it's just in the normal world per se, flying around on a broomstick just doesn't fit in exactly. This is the boundary Ron couldn't come to cross or maybe he didn't want to.

Hermione also asked what I was up to nowadays. She was attentive to every word I spoke, but became extremely aware when I began telling her of a book series I started to read. The plot was similar to Romeo and Juliet with every bit of Shakespeare's plays submersed within the series. Hermione had a certain niche for Shakespeare. Not that I was particularly playing the field, but I knew that would get her attention.

"So, the major conflict within the premise of the plot is that she's a vampire and longs for this human guy?"

"Yeah, it's told completely from his perspective, but I'd really like to know what she's thinking. I can only hear and see the guy's thoughts and actions, and I'm not saying that being left out is a bad thing, it just would be great to understand the passion and thought behind her actions. For instance, she's so enticed by him, by his blood, and it's so very…it's Romeo and Juliet."

"Sounds boring," Ron chimed in with a mouthful of turkey and stuffing. The rest of the family was in their own little conversations amongst the table.

"Ronald! Hush!" Hermione reprimanded under her breath. She didn't even look at him, keeping her eyes either in front of her or at me. "Excuse him, Harry…"

"Look, all I'm saying is," Ron reached out to grab his glass of red wine to wash the mouthful of mixed food down. "Vampires were written to be monsters. They kill and drink blood. Period. They don't love, they don't even have feelings-"

"…Sounds like someone I know," Hermione stated looking away.

Ron stopped his rant to pause. He looked at Hermione and a souring, disgustful mask draped across his face.

"Don't start."

"Hey, hey Ron, quit that." I responded as he shot daggers at Hermione. "Come on, man.

"All I'm saying is," Ron started again, sitting his glass of wine down where it laid before and stuck another fork of meat into his mouth. "Vampires don't sparkle like fairies. They hunt and kill."

"Whatever you say, Ron," I concluded, placing some mashed potato in-between my own lips. I noticed Hermione roll her eyes, completely turned away from Ron. If I wasn't mistaken, she'd entered Arthur and Molly's conversation if I hadn't heard their previous scuffle. Hermione took up her glass of wine and sipped on it for what seemed like minutes.

"Could you pass the salt?" Ron looked at Hermione. He tried to find her eyes by moving a little into the table, but when he moved, she turned further away. He looked at me and rolled his eyes, "She's always like this. She's turned into a big baby."

"Ron, man, come on," I set my wine glass down, trying to coax Ron to simmer down.

Hermione turned to the front and pointed at the salt shaker, "It's right there. Why do I have to get it for you? You're a man, move more than four inches and get it yourself!"

"Oh, grow up, Herm."

Hermione flicked her head at Ron, eyeing him with the same sort of disgust he did, "Don't call me `Herm', and you grow up! Sometimes I think you're going to stay at the same level of maturity as when I first met you! What were you doing then? Picking your nose and pulling pigtails? Seems about right to me!"

"Okay, okay…," I pleaded with them under my breath. Thankfully, even if people were paying attention they hadn't made a big deal about it. I knew from my side Ginny had turned her eyes toward their scene. I could feel her beside me. "Come on, guys…"

"Go to Hell," spat Ron to Hermione's face.

Hermione, flushed with a bit of pink in her cheeks, took the remains of her wine-which was a fair bit-and downed it all in one, single drink. She tilted her head back and let it all go in. When I could see her eyes again, she had them shut for a moment, and when she looked once more, she looked…gone.

With one swift movement up, she stood, making the entire table silence. She placed her napkin from her lap into the plate and said very calmly, "I'm feeling a little under the weather. Thank you Molly, Arthur, for this fantastically prepared meal, but I must be excused before I become more ill."

Neville stood up quick, and I did as well. I set my napkin aside and watched Hermione's facial expression move away as she did. She looked flustered…embarrassed…sad…exhausted… Everything she shouldn't be feeling.

Neville collapsed back into his chair and looked at Ginny. I peered down to see Ginny look up at me as if to say, "See, like I said…" I'd gotten a taste of what was to come. An acidic, wrenching taste one might come by before vomiting. I didn't know what to say. I didn't know what to do. Hermione's curls, ever-so-done up in a way just for tonight, bounced freely as she bolted up the stairs to the upper floors. Slowly I sat down in the wake of what just happened and found Ron, seemingly oblivious, picking away at a piece of marbled ham.

***

After dinner, and after I finally broke Molly from her usual "you're a guest" routine and I helped with the washing of the dishes, she turned to me and asked if I was going to stay the night. Knowing quite well that that would make her just a little more happier, especially after witnessing what we saw at the dinner table and knowing within speaking what we all thought, that staying would help her out tons…as much as it hurt me to be here.

Arthur and Molly decided at the spur of the moment to take out the old Ford Anglia. Ever since me and Ron's little side-adventure with the flying vehicle, Arthur had jazzed it up a bit. The body was different, the insides were different; he even put in a CD player and updated his enchantment to a sturdier, more mobile style.

Knowing they probably needed to go out to get some fresh air, they hugged and kissed Ginny, Neville and I before heading out the door. We heard the Ford rumble to life and take off into the night. The three of us that were left meandered into the den where we sat in silence for a few minutes at a fresh flaming fireplace Neville and I made.

"I'm guessing you guys are also staying the night?"

I sat in a single armchair opposite of Ginny and Neville who were curled up together, moreso Ginny. She'd laid her head on him in a way that resembled the onset of twilight sleep. It certainly didn't help her in her answer as Neville stroked the length of her back.

"Yes," she yawned and moved more into her lover. She pulled a bundled up quilt over her legs and atop her, settling into the sofa. "Of course. The family here breathes life into mom and dad. We couldn't just leave, especially after all that."

"That…," I began, but hesitated. I thought about what I was going to say, my feelings out loud, but retracted them to end the statement in, "…that really hurt me."

"I'm sorry you had the bear witness to that," Ginny groggily said, pressing both into the plush of the cushion and the cushion that was Neville. "But, in a way, I'm glad you got to see what we're up against."

Neville could see my raw emotion as he was a little more alert than Ginny, "Harry, if you don't want to do this-"

"We're here, we might as well," stated Ginny.

"Emotions are running high, dear," Neville kept his eye on me for a lingering second, and then turned to look at his sleepy Ginny. "I get it, I do. But, Harry isn't the answer. We need more than just him, us, to solve this. We may even need professional help."

"It's all right…we'll do it…," I could hear Ginny slip into sleep after every breath. "…we'll do it…everything will be fixed tomorrow…I promise…"

I smiled when Neville shook his head at the Sleeping Beauty attached to him as if Ginny's hands where made of suction cups.

"Okay…I think it's time to go to bed…," Neville started to get up, scooping Ginny with him in his arms. He whispered to me, "It's the wine…she's a lightweight, you know."

I stifled a laugh and watched Neville begin to carry Ginny, quilt and all, up the stairs.

"Good night, Harry," Neville whispered. He looked down at Ginny who had completely passed out and grinned. "Ginny says goodnight, too."

"Good night, guys," I whispered back.

"And, don't worry, Harry," Neville said concerned. "We'll figure this out one way or the other. We have each other's backs."

I smiled, "Thanks for the support."

"No problem," Neville progressed further up the staircase. "See you tomorrow morning sometime after she wakes up."

I stifled another laugh, "See you tomorrow morning, guys."

I pondered, when all went quiet, if I should go up to my own sanctuary and leave to dreamland for the night. The fire crackled and the log burned blue, pieces falling into the ash below. I sat in the armchair, perturbed by what happened earlier at dinner and the silence I heard once more from above me. I didn't want to think about what may or may not be going on in Hermione and Ron's room. But, I couldn't stop thinking about it. I heard him curse her…and, in another setting, I'd have laid into him.

He'd probable have had a broken lip, or nose, possibly even an arm.

Thinking about all this brought back too many memories; happy memories of when we were all kids and didn't have these "mature" emotions. All the girls had cooties. We didn't think of any of this. Was that the perfect time in our lives? I don't think, within me, that I could go without a day anymore without seeing Hermione. It's like, seeing her today made me realize more than ever before how much I wanted her. I didn't know if that was considered selfish, or if I should feel guilty; but, all I knew was Ron…Ron wasn't treating her right. Her, like many other women in my life, should be treated with respect and be loved-not live lives like this, ever. The life I saw, but a speck, was disturbing.

The more I thought, the more I couldn't sleep, and sleep left me. Any spout of drowsiness left my core and I became a gifted insomniac. One person, one woman, could create such a happy destruction in my life. I couldn't think of anything but her now. I twisted my head to the side and glanced up the stairs. I sighed and my eyes fell upon a rather thick read, like War and Peace, lying on a side table. I picked it up and began sifting through it. If anything, I was wasting time to my impending doom…or, so I thought.

***

I couldn't see the clock in the darkness to tell you when it happened. My mission was to drown out all suspected thought or emotion I'd been having from reading this chore literature. The sound, like a clap of thunder, echoed through the Weasley household. Outside, it had begun to rain, but this sound-the crash, the slam-sounded much more diagetically within the walls of the home.

I heard a yell, and then I heard Ron's voice clearly from above on the staircase and footsteps coming downward.

"Don't walk away from me when I'm talking to you!"

"Rotten git!" Hermione shouted back. I saw what looked like a slender silhouette, and then saw Hermione dressed in her pajamas descend the final stairs. She mumbled, and I could tell she had been crying, "Rotten, loathsome git…"

"Oh, yeah, Herm? Herm! Little know-it-all! Where do you think you're going?!" Ron appeared at the bottom of the stairs and chased after Hermione. I didn't know what to do, or to say. I probably shouldn't have said anything, or maybe I should have acted sooner.

I heard them confront each other in the dining area and got up as quick as I could. They were still shouting things, words they probably didn't mean, but I don't know. Everything was a blur when I rounded that corner and heard others in the house wake from their individual slumbers. Hermione had crossed back around the table and Ron was on the other side by the time I made it there.

"Look at you, right?!" shouted Ron.

"Look at you!" Hermione's voice was shrill and losing tone. They must have been at this longer than I'd witnessed. I stood at the doorway completely useless. Hamlet had more decisiveness than I did; but, this was the first time I'd really, truly seen them at each other's throats. I must have fallen asleep, I remember telling myself. This can't be true.

"Look at you, Herm! Just because you think you're smarter than me? As if, with how you look! I mean, come on, you know Viktor, right? He's just using you as some sort of side dish because he just broke up with his girlfriend! You're the rebound girl!"

"What?!" Hermione scoffed, tears welled up in her eyes. "Wha-Ron you give me such a headache. The emotional range you have can fit into a thimble! You're such an immature little rascal! Do you actually hear yourself speak?! It's gibberish! Pure, and awful rubbish! You're crazy!"

"Hey, hey," I tried to assert myself in between them. I heard others begin to come down the stairs. I tried to tell them to calm down, slow down, stop, but Ron cut me off.

"You're such a prude, you know that right, Herm?"

"And you're a foul git!"

"No, look at you," Ron scoffed and started pointing at parts of Hermione's body. "I mean, come on. The only part of you that has anything going on, if that, is up here."

Ron tapped the side of his head.

Hermione became quiet. Her puffy, red eyes overcome with water.

"RON!" I shouted this time. "THAT'S ENOUGH!"

"Look at you, Herm," Ron slithered himself in. "No one will ever want you."

I felt a presence behind me, but all I could think was what the Hell was happening. What the Hell was going on? Nothing, and I repeat, nothing made sense. The only part that made any sense was my biological need to severely hurt Ron. He was closest to me, but my eyes settled on Hermione-or where Hermione was-as she dashed outside and into the rain.

"Good job, asshole," Ginny, half-awake, sounded off behind me. As I took off around Ron toward the front door Hermione ran out of, I heard Ginny say, "If you think you're better than her in any way, damn, you must be sloshed 24/7. Prick."

Thankfully, the pajamas Hermione were lighter in color to the environment. I couldn't see anything, and the rain that poured in buckets didn't help either. By the third step into the mud, my entire body was soaked from head to toe. Lightning made me jump in my dash, but my mind was set solely on Hermione who ran and ran and ran. I didn't know where she was running, but I knew she was running far from the Weasley's.

I was half expecting her to apparate back to her house with her family. I was hoping I'd find her there if she did and not some random place. I was hoping she didn't disappear at all, and the more I followed her, the more time passed, the more she just kept running.

I saw her slip and fall into the muddy ground surrounding the Weasley's. When she did, the time it took her to try and stand back up was enough time for me to grab her, help her up, and start trying to get the dirty clumps from around her wet face and hair.

She immediately turned to me after I helped her up and began punching me. I tried my best to catch her punches, but then just took the rest. With each punch following the next, I felt her strength deteriorate. She cried out through the thunder and, my God, standing there holding her to me was all I could do.

She looked at me in the deluge. I knew she was crying, could feel she was crying as she shook, but everything about her was wet.

She screamed out at me and pummeled my chest with her fists, "You don't want me!"

How she screamed that at me, the words…it all stung harder than the sharp pin-pricks of the pouring rain. I tightened my embrace of Hermione. Torrents of emotions ran wildly, chaotically through my mind and I could grasp one to hold onto. The only thing I wanted was to hold onto my Hermione. That was all.

The pummeling lost its strength and soon Hermione fell limp in my arms. She tried to stabilize, but I caught her, holding her with every bit of my strength I could. She wrapped her arms around my neck and kept repeating slower and slower, "You don't want me…no one wants me!"

"I want you!" I said it loud and clear.

"No you don't!" she screamed into my chest. "No one wants me! I'm worthless! I'M WORTHLESS! I SHOULDN'T BE HERE!"

"Listen to me, Hermione," I shook her. "Listen to me!"

All I could hear was her sobbing. All I could feel was the heave and fall of her chest as she stuttered every, single breath. My emotions took over me, and I let them. I caressed the top of her head, inside her drench hair, following the strands that adhered to her perfect face where I kissed her forehead, her cheek, her jaw-anywhere I could. I nuzzled my nose against her wet skin and hugged her tight. She wasn't going to slip away. I would not let her leave me.

She opened her eyes for a split second, enough for me to gaze into them.

"I want you…I want you…I want you…," I kissed her forehead again, and then the top of her head again.

I felt Hermione grip me, slide her hands from my chest to around my neck and tighten. That was all I needed to know. I pulled her form as close to mine as I could and whispered to her, "I'm apparating us out of here. I'll come back for your things tomorrow. Trust me."

"I've trusted you," she whispered into my ear and leaned her weight into my own.

In one split second of time we were standing in mud to our ankles, sheets of water barraging us like white curtains, and the frightening snap of lightning looming overhead. Now, under the streetlight before Number Twelve we stood, Hermione still locked around me, limp, and myself around her. The aqua dripped off our severely wet clothes and onto the dry cement sidewalk below us. An elderly couple, walking the night, stood on the other side of the street. I didn't know if they saw us instantly come out of nowhere, nor did I care. More on the fact that they stared at us, in our private, vulnerable act-and I hated it.

I glared at them from across the street, my eyes slightly above Hermione's head. "Come on…," I said, bending down to take up Hermione in one fell swoop. She kept her arms secure around my neck.

From the other side, I knew the elderly couple saw me vanish once again into Number Twelve. My flat can't be seen by Muggles, and that in itself is potentially bad…but, at that moment, all of me, everything, my world and universe were all about Hermione.

{Inspirations for the Chapter: I listened to a lot of The Scientist by Coldplay. The poetic lyrics and sequential melody fit so right, especially during the dinner and rain scenes.}

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