Unofficial Portkey Archive

Life and Times

Rating: R

Ship: HHr (main emphasis)

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

…Things we lose have a way of coming back to us in the end - Luna Lovegood

***

Chapter Sixty-Five - Loss

***

April 12, 2001

11:44 PM

Godric's Hollow Graveyard

The winds in the quiet neighbourhood gently begin to pick up. On the concrete pathways, the lawn, dry leaves dance across the flat surfaces and into the grass. The breaths of earth move with a fog, ever-increasing within the graveyard, lingering slowly, surrounding one prominent headstone amongst others. From the fog forms take shape, a female first, her feet, legs, torso, to the top of her straight, short black hair. Beside her, the cane appears first, following like her from feet to the top of his blonde head.

He hobbles with consistency, an unhurried pace towards that headstone. The first, as they pass, with his lady the equilibrium, one James Potter. The next, Lily Potter, with their step at the tomb on the far side of his parents. The cane stops, the tips of his boots pointing to the name, the phrase:

Harold James Potter

Greater love hath no man than this, than a man lay down his life for his friends.

31 July 1980 - 31 January 2001

"Hello, again, Harry…" The grey eyes glance over at his mate, her arm with his. "Dear, my cane?"

He holds the silvery-serpent's head out for her, now standing lonesome on his right.

"Are you sure, my love?" She peers at his attempt, a hand out.

He nods. "I'll be fine. I'm not a vegetable yet."

He smirks.

She takes the cane and carefully loosens her grip, letting the blonde fall smoothly to the grass. In his kneel, he lets his good knee be the tripod stand whilst his other bends. He winces away from her, to lay his hand upon the land covering Harry. He closes his eyes and says a little prayer.

"…We will not forget. I will not forget my promise," His eyes reopen to gaze at his name etched into the stone. "You truly are the greatest hero. I'm sorry this all had to happen the way it did… I only trust Albus is teaching you well. I know we will meet again-we will meet again even if it's on my life."

"The greatest sacrifice a man can give will not be lost. The men of courage will be rewarded in the end. The prophecy…," the blonde's words get lost in the howling wind.

The mists take over, the fog strengthening with ever-so-soft pops here and there. From the white come cloaks of snow, their hoods hiding their faces, standing with mettle and poise, heads held high. "Sir," one of them calls from the dozen that have shown themselves.

"I know…," He goes to look at the Auror behind him, but stops. He lifts his cuff, the business attire, the black shirtsleeve to show the scar, the tattoo of a lifetime passed: a skull with a snake for its tongue, wriggling and striking on the inside of his forearm. "I've felt the burning… They're closer. The men?"

"We're severely outnumbered, sir," testifies a female voice. "They'll take the Vatican if we don't surrender the tome."

"The Vatican won't allow us to move it until it's wrought from their cold, dead hands…," he breathes, letting a sigh settle. "Pansy?"

He lifts his left hand and the black leather glove is caught by the pale woman, the lover, bending down to pull him from his knelt position. She dusts the knees of her mate's trousers off and helps him balance back on his cane.

"They're fools!" shouts an Auror. "They'd rather die than to do what is right!"

"It's not in their blood. They live by His name," the grey eyes peer at his army of dozen, having stepped once in a turn to see them with his cane. "Centuries they've protected over the tome, and within those centuries the knowledge has been to keep it within the halls of the Vatican. The tome is theirs, not ours to confiscate."

"We will surely die, sir!"

"The atmosphere brings security…," He takes Pansy's hand. "The sacrifice Harry has given all of us is a sign that we, too, must sacrifice in order to succeed. It is our duty."

"My apologies, sir…," renounces the aggressive Auror.

The blonde, in his hobble, walks towards him and places a hand upon the cloak's shoulder. "Your wife and newborn are safe. They've gone out of the country, yes?"

"Yes, and I miss them-I have yet to see my new baby boy."

His warm grey eyes stare blinkless at the hood and the shadowy features of the man in question. "…Take tonight off. Have a drink. Regroup and come find me tomorrow… I'll see to it you'll be beside your wife and child."

"Thank you, sir," he bows and puts a hand to his chest. "You don't know how much that means to me."

The blonde gently pats the Auror's shoulder. "I know how it feels to miss the ones you love so gravely…"

"Pansy," the commander adds, looking at his mate on his right.

"Yes, my love?"

"Might you give Harry a fresh bouquet of flowers?"

She nods after a beat, and then paces from him to the gravestone. She kneels softly to the misty field and by wand enchants first a crystal vase, beautifully sculpted with the prettiest display of perfect red roses to any floral connoisseur. She gazes at Harry's name, the ground below her, places her index and middle fingers to her lips and trades a kiss. The caress, by movement, is brought to the cold stone, her black leather-clad digits grazing over the inlaid nomenclature.

"You are missed…," she whispers, standing up. She walks back beside her mate and takes his hand, the blonde having a speech with his reconnaissance. "Ready, my love?"

"I need to speak to the Weasley's," he states, promptly ending his conversation with the Aurors.

One Auror, and then another, vanish from sight, the fog rolling over where they once stood, bright flashes of light illuminating the environs with each departure.

Pansy nods. "As you wish, my love."

And, as the last, both her and the blonde-POP!-from sight, leaving nothing but the favour requested upon Harry's site.

***

April 13, 2001

5:13 AM

Prophet Media HQ, London, England

Behind closed doors, Rita Skeeter reports with a shrill of laughter to her interns, clerks, the day-to-day employees shilling out page after page of Prophet material. Set high on her throne, without a care in the world, she goes about her business with a swagger. Dozens of Quick-Quills retain to her stride, busying between desks and their writers, sniggling at the most ostentatiously absurd trail they've found on the previous admin, their followers, and the Order. She snatches up a page, gazes at the parchment behind half-spectacles, puts an obscenely red nail to her lips and lets out a boisterous chuckle.

"Teival…," she snickers, holding her signature emerald-green sequined gown, in-place with all the over-the-top decor of the excessive superstructure. And, why not? The Ministry had them protected. After Rita threw the full weight of Prophet Media in Nolpho election, the plan would have only concluded the way it did. She had everything-has everything-and with that bit of a smirk, she handed Miss Teivel, newly appointed head writer, the parchment back. "That bit about Dumbledore and Shacklebolt is priceless… They'll certainly grovel over the last remark, and hate them even more!"

"Thank you, Miss Skeeter," expresses the starkly blonde, black accentuating her eyes, lips, and brow. She gives her workmanship a kiss before leaping straight from her seat.

Beyond two large wooden doors, charmed and built to sustain magicks, a popping noise like firecrackers shot off, followed closely behind a wail between a BOOM!

The establishment shuddered, the very coffee in Teival's cup rippling.

Several of Skeeter's security started to file from the outskirts surrounding the desks, making their way towards the double doors when those, too, blew, their hinges blown off. The doors all but melted to the floor, and within dust, a cloud of black smoke came hooded figures, dark cloaks, wands at the ready.

One shot a security officer to the floor, the green light appearing and vanishing quickly.

Another produced a flame, setting another officer on fire, burning him alive.

Skeeter, in utmost shock, began to step backward with the rest of her A-team of writers and editors. Their wands were at the ready, but… Death Eaters?

"What is the meaning of this?!" she screeched.

Rita held her wand out…only to see a man, clad in business attire, suspenders upon a white collared shirt and pin-striped trousers, step over some debris and out of the dusty smoke.

"Quincy!" Rita's hand dropped momentarily, her mouth gapping, to throw her wand up again in an act of self-preservation. That bit of id turning on.

Nolpho, playing cool and seemingly unaware of the destruction, nor Rita Skeeter and her crew with their wands, rolled up his sleeves and patted himself of the dust. He turned to a cloak beside him, the cloak's wand pointing at the Media crowd, and said rather bored, "Get on with it, will you?"

All at once, every employee including the emerald-green sequins dropped to the floor. Agonizing and writhing in pain, each face contorted beneath a Death Eater's Cruciatus, the one Death Eater following Nolpho's feet aimed directly at Skeeter.

Nolpho yawned when he went to bend down to the flailing Rita, struggling against the pain, her fingers claw-like as she gripped the hardwood floor, breaking a nail as she peeled back the stain. He waved the Death Eater off with his hand, and gave a smirk when Rita came up for air.

She gasped in time to spit out, "You promised me!"

"What was that, my dear?" he hissed.

"You promised me that if I helped you win the election, my empire would be safely guarded! Why are you-?!"

"I don't recall confiding in any such `promise'," Nolpho grinned, giving another motion with his hand.

The Death Eater shocked Skeeter, her body recoiling from what could only be defined as torture.

Skeeter screamed alongside her employees, who had endured the weight of the Curse far more than she until Nolpho waved off the Death Eater beside him.

"Would this be considered a `hostile takeover'?" he had a laugh with the Death Eater aside him, waiting on Skeeter to breathe normally, and to come back from the brink of passing out.

Her vision went in and out. "…I did so much for you. Why are you doing this, Quincy?!"

"Because I can," he jested. "You work for me now, hun."

"Never!"

Nolpho sighed, and then yelled out, "Can someone kill something? Anything?"

A green flash of light engulfed the room, a groan dispersed over the screams of Cruciatus, and then dissipated back to the ambient lighting of Prophet Media headquarters.

Rita glanced over at where the green light had faded, at a still corpse of one of her editors, only to come back to the maddening face of Quincy Nolpho. He had his wand to her forehead, the tip of the crooked willow piercing her thin flesh. "Now, dear-you work with us and no harm will come of that little family of yours, and especially that nice singing niece."

"You swore-!"

"I swear, now, that I'll hurt her in the best possible way imaginable," He smiled. He padded the tip of his index finger atop Rita's pointy nose. "Honestly."

Nolpho slapped Rita's when she grimaced angrily. "Tsk tsk… Smile! I'm giving you what you've always wanted!"

Backhanded, all Rita could do was to take it. Her thoughts ran from her mother, her father, her sister…Shade…

"Now, it wouldn't be…business-friendly if I were to take you out. Oh! Realize I want to…"

Rita stared into the sparkling black sockets of Nolpho peering at her.

"I just… I don't like you, and if I could without repercussion…"

He went as if to strangle her with his hand…only to stop and pull unwillingly away. He stroked a messy curl cascading down Rita's cheek. "…You are the face the people know. It wouldn't be prudent for the Ministry to…replace you so suddenly. They would begin to talk, and talking can get me in trouble…"

"Just don't hurt them…Shade…"

Nolpho went as if he were to slap her again, but gave her cheek a tap-tapping instead. "Then, we have a deal, love? Excellent!"

He pushed up with his knees and announced aloud, a flourishing hand in the air, "On with the show!"

***

April 13, 2001

9:15 AM

Within a tiny pet shop, Oxford, England

He tossed and turned those several nights after Donald had so heavy-handedly pressed into his brain the thought of pursuing her. They both had the morning off, Nathan, his classes rescheduled, and Hermione hadn't work until much later at the pub. After a bit of tea and breakfast, Nathan had asked to go riding in his car. And, so they did, stopping to meander about the shops downtown, the windows of one particularly interesting shop catching her attention. Or, should one say, the puppies facing towards the street.

With an overly-excited rejoice, the mahogany curls bounced her way indoors, the sun just slightly breaking through the morning overcast of a typical London day. She wore a pink hoodie jumper, the hood traveling along with that jog, the skip she made through the door. Nathan made a laugh at her squeal the moment he stepped through, too, seeing Hermione bending over the compartment where all the little beagles frolicked at her cooing.

He paid close attention to that of the ring still upon her finger. Never once judging, he continued to go over, and over, in his head the consequences. He could lose her completely…but to never risk it gave a lump in his throat so constricting that he wished only to shout out. He leaned just inside, on the crib meant for the puppies whilst watching Hermione lift one of the beagle puppies into her grasp, and up into her arms.

She turned to him, that chipmunk-style face and button nose, how her smile killed him within those rosy cheeks. She giggled, laughing when the beagle began affectionately licking that cheek. He was so happy, and the beagle, too. She really was one of a kind, with an extra something special he couldn't quite pin down… She had this way of lightening the mood, bringing this warm fuzzy feeling, and allowing his heart to skip a beat. He could hear Donald egging him on, his voice rolling onward at how "this felt right". But, the ring…

He didn't want to lose her as a friend.

Actually, he didn't want to lose her at all.

To take the chance…

Her extremely addictive, adorable squeal shook him out of his thoughts, the trance, Donald's booming voice to "go for it". The beagle, so insistent on attention had wanted to climb on her shoulder and in her hair, the lapping of his tongue never ceasing. Nathan chuckled, stepping forward to help the poor Hermione and the attacking puppy, the delightful scene of guiltlessness.

On his hands, his arms, and now the licking upon his face, he laughed out to her, "Wouldn't Crookshanks be a bit offended?"

"I'll have to change quickly when we get back."

Nathan laughed, the beagle wetting his face. He scrunched up his nose, "Certainly is an affectionate fella."

"He likes you!"

"I can certainly see that!" He laughed once more, the beagle all but climbing atop his head.

She put her hand to cover her mouth, holding her centre with its twin while she laughed at the unbearably charming scene.

***

12:24 PM

An open field park venue in Oxford

"Come on, Donald!" barked Hermione from the stands. Amidst her and Stephanie, a few groups of people, mostly girls sat together watching the rugby scrimmage play out. Both she and Stephanie had on a wrapped, quilted blanket. Although the sun was out, a cool breeze among a crisp day blew through easily without any obstacle. The trees, buildings surrounding them on the outskirts of the cleared grassy spot.

Hermione had her hands around her mouth, acting to amplify her voice. And she did, causing a stir from the other groups around them. "Hit the guy!"

"Is that ickle-sweet Hermione I hear badgering me over there?" Playing sport in skins-and-shirts, Donald's and Nathaniel's team were shirtless. So, when Donald raised his hand over his eyes to block out the sun, to see the group on the benches, Hermione could hear the wooing of Stephanie beside her.

"You could have taken Marwick!" added Steph. "You let him get that goal!"

"You think you could do better, missy?!" yelled Donald as he jogged off after the ball.

"Quit being a pansy and hit the guy next time!" called out Hermione in a smirk. "We didn't come here to see you try to hug them!"

Stephanie was balled over laughing.

"If you think you could do better, come on down here!" one could hear the huffing of Donald as he chased the guy with the ball.

I smiled when I caught sight of Nathaniel running by. He gave me a wave as he sidestepped, shuffling in to make a dive for the shirt with the sphere. I waved back, to see him turn about and lift the ball-carrier off the ground.

"Now that's a hit!" hollered Stephanie.

"Ohh, shush it!" came faintly from the piled bodies all going for the loose ball.

Stephanie and I lit with laughter.

Stephanie peered down at Hermione's hand whilst looking towards her. She saw the engagement ring still on her finger, the ring she kept so close to her wherever she was. She smiled when she saw her gazing out over the field, aligned with the target of the built shirtless male having captured the ball. She watched Hermione follow him going for the goal, and eased into her, giving her a push off her shoulder.

Hermione looked over.

"You've changed," stated Steph with a grin.

"Nah…," smiled Hermione, looking back at the field. "I just like giving the guy's a hard time."

She looked back at Steph, her brunette strands blowing in her face. She pried them back, pushing them behind an ear. "If it's annoying-"

"It's hilarious-he gets so riled up!"

Hermione laughed, leaning against Steph.

"But, I meant with N-"

"Are you kidding me…?"

Interrupted by Hermione, Stephanie's eyes shot off towards the right and down below. Her eyes went to a blonde, and to her clique of friends. They'd seen them up in the seats, standing near the sidelines of the field. Trish gazed in their vicinity, a hand over her eyes; but, didn't linger for long. Her sight went back to the field.

"The fuck is she doing here…?" growled Steph. She went to get up, to say something, when Hermione's hand held her back.

"Wait!" I said in a hushed voice. "Look-they're leaving."

Sure enough, they'd turned and left the moment they'd come on the field.

Steph sat back down. "…Probably scoping out what she can't have…"

"That was weird…" added Hermione, feeling Steph hug her beneath the enclosed blanket. "What do you think that was all about?"

"Dunno, really…," Both her and Hermione's eyes continued to watch Trisha's clique move on and out of sight. "But, I'm not afraid to fight a bitch."

***

1:54 PM

"I think I could have done better."

"Oh, really?" Nathan slipped his arm around my neck and pulled me into a headlock.

"Oi!" I fought between laughs, our group of Steph and Donald walking back towards the parking garage.

"I rather like my girls all damsel-like," I caught his ticklish spot, and he let go.

My hair a mess, I blew those wild curls away from my sight. I mimicked as if enraged, my hands on my hips and all, but smiled when he grinned. "You're all sweaty and gross, and-"

"Oi then, come `ere!" He went to grab me, but I was off.

Rushing by Steph and Donald in front of us, I leapt over a parking curb and fled across the pavement. I looked back to see Nathan on the approach. I was in a fit, an absolute fit when he lassoed me, plucking me from the asphalt and lifting me into his arms.

"Ack! Gross!" Scrunching up my face, I set to get away, slipping on the sweat upon his skin all the while he chuckled at my fight.

"Hahaha…!"

"Set me down! Set me down this instant!"

"Oh, have it your way…"

He put the bottoms of my Ugg boots back on the ground, and I went about wiping away as much of Nathaniel as I could. "Christ, you're mean to me…"

"Here," He rummaged about in his duffel bag and tossed me a clean towel. "I didn't realize you'd get so-"

I threw the towel back at him when finished, the navy blue cotton landing on his head.

He yanked it off, saying in slits for eyes, "Why you little…"

"Eek!" And, I was off again, my laughter and his resounding now between concrete supports and walls, garage A.

I hustled, only to hear Nathaniel on the way back to his car, "What are you going to do without…?"

He jingled his keys…

…The door, as I tried to open it, was locked.

"Haha!" He leapt across the hood and was after me again.

The two witnesses, Steph and Donald, grinned at each other.

"I swear they're adorable," Steph said at the car door, having watched Hermione climb up on Nathaniel's back and was currently being walked back.

"He swears they're `platonic,'" Donald looked at Steph at his left. "I call bullshit."

"You always were one to spot the obvious."

***

9:34 PM

Oxford Halls of Residence

"Honestly, Hermione-I can't stand you."

Lifting from my bend, having just rinsed my skin of face wash, I glanced into the reflection and saw Stephanie applying foundation to her skin. I took the unsoiled cloth from where I'd put it on the rack aside me and patted my face dry.

"What?"

"Your skin is flawless," Steph went from me, and then back to her application. "You don't know how many girls would kill for your complexion. You don't have to sit here for an hour putting makeup on-have you ever?"

I shook my head. "Never saw the meaning. Well, maybe if I was feeling creative."

Steph laughed. "Have you ever tried modeling?"

In a matter of seconds, memories hit me…

"Oh! Oh-that's cute!"

In the middle of this golden field, a cloudless, clear blue sky hung overhead. The sunlight dazzled the stalks of vegetation, the bronzed hue so powerful as our background. Besides us three, Harry, me, and the Q magazine photographer's crew, a lone tree sat in the distance, creating a picturesque horizon.

Harry had on these grayish trousers with silvery lining and a black tee shirt. I had on this white little number with a wide tan belt covering my centre, a metal frame as the buckle. I'd leapt onto Harry's backside when the blonde photographer announced the "cute"-factor, hanging on around his neck with my knees hitched up. Harry had caught me underneath them, secured, enjoying with giggles my piggy-back ride.

I tossed my head to one side, allowing the wind to catch those mahogany curls sparkling in the emblazoned atmosphere. He made it seem for a moment that I weighed a ton, lowering when I tapped him on the shoulder and gasped. He leaned back, and within that gorgeous smile, brighter than the illumination, the odd day of sunshine in England, I kissed him…

"Hey!" Donald's face appeared in the mirror from the opened door giving us both a fright.

"Fucking hell!" Steph pushed Don back out the door.

"Why does it take a whole day for you to get ready?" He stood in the doorway. "Hermione looks like she's finished."

"Well, Hermione's special."

I rolled my eyes, fixing the oversized-white shirt that had this neat, almost spray-painted-like black peace symbol on the front. Black tights and blackish Ugg boots, I was definitely on the side of ready. But, I wouldn't say it in front of Steph, having our girl's moment, chatting.

"Hurry up! The club's probably poppin' as of now! We'll be there after ten at this rate-happy hour ends at midnight for us guys!"

"Hold your fucking arse," spat Steph. "Christ!"

She looked at me through the mirror. "It's like the guy hasn't had a single drop in weeks!"

Donald came inside the lavatory, and about that time I heard the smacking sound. Steph's eyes widened, and then her image was gone. I snickered, Donald having slapped her bum, telling her, again, to, "Hurry up!"

When Steph was eventually allowed to finish, I walked out behind her and Donald fussing away to see Nathan leaning on the counter with the silver chinking metal in his hands. He smiled when he saw me, wearing faded black denim trousers, and a white shirt with a bit of black design with his top two buttons undone. He'd put some gel in his hair, made up in the front and slicked in the back.

He reached out for me, and I took his hand.

Gently, he turned and I followed him at arm's length through the door. I grinned at some partiers in the Halls, having to move to the side as some guy in a lampshade bumbled down the corridor half-drunk with his mates. Nathan squeezed my hand, and by slackened grip, by light fingertips, he led me down the staircase and out into his car.

When he ignited the engine, the music, its bass trembled the doors, the floor. Donald was in front of us with Steph, his Honda no match for Nathan's Ford Mustang. When we got to the first stop light, both cars at the ready, Nathan casually said to, "Hold on" as he revved the engine with a smirk in profile. The light flicked to green, and we were off, burning rubber as the tires squealed.

***

10:17 PM

The Ministry of Sound nightclub, London

"Oh my God!" cheeped Angelique, DJ Bliss, one of several DJs scratching House music tonight. She was one of Nathaniel's friends from bartending at the pub, a frequent acquaintance for their cheeseburgers, chips, and of course, low calorie drinks. At only half its volume capacity, the walls reverberated between the sounds of hopping feet and chatter. The lithe, tanned woman, about the same age as Hermione, scurried from the massive crowd and nearly leapt on the brunette. "It's the Fabulous Four at it again!"

Hermione embraced Angelique, the squirming figure all locked up around her. She came in and grabbed Nathan, and then Donald and Steph for a group hug. She flicked around and yelled at the bartender tossing bottles in his display of show. "Five Johnny Vegas's!"

The bartender nodded through the beat he kept with the bottles, plucking Patron and watermelon schnapps from the wired rack behind him.

"Starting hard, Angel?" mused Donald. "I love it!"

"Of course you do!"

Strobe lighting made Angelique's tiny frame resemble snapshots on her way to the bar, pulling along Hermione with Nathaniel in tow. "Come along, Baby Doll!"

"She's going to get you hammered again," noted Nathaniel with a bit of a curve of a lip. "Watch out."

Hermione looked back, being pulled to the counter where sat four "shots" that could be considered drinks as tall as they were. The brownish liquid fizzed with bubbles alit by the various coloured lights behind the bar. "I don't care."

Nathan smirked, and was then smacked on the shoulder by Donald. "Such a downer!"

"I just don't want her to get sick like the last time, mate."

I looked back at Nathan, having picked up the shot and turned around. Leaning against the bar's ledge, my left elbow atop, I merely rolled my eyes. I saw him reach around me for his, giving my stomach a little prod. I prodded him back, making him laugh. He stepped beside me, on my left with Angelique on my right. Donald and Stephanie had theirs, too, on the far side of Nathan. Angelique held on her shot, and we followed.

"To a fucking fantastic night with friends!"

"Cheers!" we said in-sync.

I tilted my head back, and when I felt the tequila strike immediately shut my eyes. I wanted to cough, but held it back, too damn stubborn to allow myself to do so. I felt Nathan at my shoulder, and Angelique squeeze my hand. I set the glass down, swallowing nothing but just to get the strong taste down and was rightfully tugged into the direction of the dance floor.

I smiled and happily skipped behind Angelique.

Nathan's hand ran across my arm, from the shoulder as I left him. When I looked back he was already ordering another drink with Donald, and gave me a wave, a smirk. I smiled, the direction blocked by the closing-in image of Stephanie behind me, holding onto my shirt as we weaved in-and-out of groups of people.

***

"This is DJ Defected, here at Ministry of Sound live on the radio this Friday night!" From the station centre-stage, DJ Defected, a shaved-haired man in his mid-twenties with schoolboy-framed glasses put his fist in the air as he spoke in real-time over the radio. From the listener's perspective, one could hear the bass, the people, the music. "Ladies and gentlemen, it is your duty to get down here and come live the night up with us! Ladies-you drink free until 1 AM, and men…there's some fit looking ladies down here. I tell you what… We've got DJ Bliss and DJ Sweet hooking it all up for you-so come on down and get to it!"

Some of Stephanie's friends had come, too, girls that I'd hung out with before on many an occasion. Angelique, discounting her DJing for fun, had taken all of us on one of many stages to dance. This wasn't a first time, and why we came to this welcoming venue. Her dark grey short sleeve shirt, dark jeans and chain swayed as I did, and the rest. The hippogriff feather danced at my chest, caught up in the pulse, the flicker of lights, the colours that would pop and change the club to red, to violet, to ochre.

Only women allowed, a sea of men, cups in hand, ogled on the floor at our feet. I think that bothered me our first night; but after being hit on, and hit on, and hit on…even with the engagement ring on my finger…I'd gotten used to it. Sometimes it became an inconvenience; though, the bouncers at both ends of the stage kept the more untamed at bay. One odd move and they'd be thrown out.

Of course, my attention wasn't on them. Actually, my attention, however slurred and blurred the attention as a whole was, was divided between dancing and…

I caught myself staring at Nathaniel from across the room. Well, he was near us, but farther behind the wide-eyed men watching us. In every light he looked like… Every time I saw him, his hair, his confidence, his sense of protecting me… The subjects we discussed, his intelligence, his hobbies… His attire, his hair, and I swore if he wore glasses…

Distraught, I fought with myself…versions of me, voices in my head. A voice, as clear as day, found solace in meeting him. That voice urged me, wanted me to "go for it," to started anew with this…so very similar, Harry look-a-like. Parts of me wished to do things I never wanted to do with any other man. And in that came the second voice, a voice which told me… Nathaniel wasn't Harry.

He'd never be Harry.

That, Nathaniel would always and forever be…Nathaniel.

That, I was…abandoning…my love…

The other voice would scream, shouting the question, "But, would you rather be alone all your life?"

And, the second would yell back, "But, she can't change him to be Harry!"

I wanted to kiss Nathaniel.

I wanted to be with Nathaniel.

I wanted to…make love…

…With Harry.

"Don't do it…!" One voice. "You'll regret it for the rest of your life!"

"Throw caution into the wind!" The other. "Harry is…it's not coming back!"

My world spun between the gyrating tone, that pounding I could feel from the bottoms of my feet to the tip-top of my head. I put a hand to my forehead and held onto Angelique's arm a moment…to stabilize myself, turning away from the vision of Nathaniel and the sea of club-goers.

"Are you-," began Angelique, stopping the sway of her hips against mine. She lowered her head to my height, holding my sides with her hands as if to catch me. I think she thought I was passing out. "Are you okay…?"

"Yeah…," I shook my head. "…Yeah."

She took me in her arms and cradled me against her front whilst leaning in to speak to those girlfriends behind me, "Oi! Hermione's not feeling well!"

"Is she okay?" asked one girl in our group, an acquaintance and friends of Stephanie.

"Yeah-," Angelique had me, my hands in hers now, leading me down off the stage. She looked back at our clan. "She just needs some cold, cold water."

"Another drink is what I need…," I said, removing my right hand from Angelique's to sift through the fringe of my hair. If anything, alcohol filled the void and casted out the negatives… And when that happened, I didn't think anymore. I could be happy when I felt alone again.

"No, no…," Angelique retook my hand, and once we were off the stage replied in haste. "You need something other than vodka and liqueur. What you need is some really cold water and some fresh air-come on!"

***

Minutes before…

"Where'd Donald run off to this time?"

Nathaniel, ever-focused on Hermione from across the room, turned around from his lean on the bar counter. He lifted his plastic cup of beer to Stephanie whom crept behind him, and then set to take a sip.

"He's gone for his second time to the loo."

Stephanie, standing beside Nathan with her own mixed drink, took her lips from the brim of her own plastic cup to say, with a shake of her head, "I swear he pisses like a race horse."

Nathaniel nearly spat out his drink of beer. "Too true!"

She smiled at Nathan, and motioned over towards his line of sight with a bob of her head. "Does she know?"

"Who are we talking about now?"

"Oh, don't play stupid…"

"I don't know what you're talking about," he shrugged, giving his beer a bit of a swirl.

"You've been staring at Hermione-I've watched you."

"A tad creepy…"

"Oh, bugger off…," she rolled her eyes. "Sometimes you men are so…just terrible."

"What?"

Stephanie's eyes glittered in the multicolours. "Are you afraid of something, Nathan? You've never been afraid of anything since I've known you, so don't start now."

"What are you going on about? Seriously."

Stephanie gave another motion over to the stage, to the gaggle of girls, Hermione included. "She's looking at you-you've got to man up and take initiative! Don't be such a pus-"

"I know she likes me-or, I think so. Who's to say when she wears her ring? I don't want to be that guy who makes everything worse."

"So, you're afraid you're not going to be a great guy-and treat her right? Is that it?"

"The ring can only mean she longs for her dead fiance-you know what happened."

Paused a beat, Stephanie concluded, "That right there-what you just said-that's what makes you so great, Nathan. And, Hermione… I mean, I've never lost anyone so special to me…but, she will need to choose to move on or stay put, and I don't see her choosing to spend the rest of her life in mourning. You can be that guy she always wanted-in fact, I think you already are and are just too thick to see what's in front of you."

She gave Nathan a push.

"It's not like I don't want to kiss her-"

"Kiss her!" Steph's eyes were lit. "Damn it, mate, kiss the girl!"

"This is DJ Defected, here at Ministry of Sound live on the radio this Friday night!" From the station centre-stage, DJ Defected, a shaved-haired man in his mid-twenties with schoolboy-framed glasses put his fist in the air as he spoke in real-time over the radio. From the listener's perspective, one could hear the bass, the people, the music. "Ladies and gentlemen, it is your duty to get down here and come live the night up with us! Ladies-you drink free until 2 AM, and men…there's some fit looking ladies down here. I tell you what… We've got DJ Bliss and DJ Sweet hooking it all up for you-so come on down and get to it!"

"We're already like one big happy family… Me and Don, you and Hermione…"

Nathan gave his eyes a roll, but smile nonetheless.

"Do it tonight," Steph gave Nathan another push on his shoulder, seeing Nathan peer back in longing for the twirling brunette on stage. "Grab her, kiss her-we love that sort of spontaneity."

"So," Nathan smirked into his drink. "If she maims me, cuts off my balls, do I have you and Donald to thank?"

Stephanie's laugh was thoroughly drowned out by a bass beat.

Nathan's eyes went from Stephanie holding herself, back to Hermione-or where she once stood, an empty spot now. He immediately straightened, looking around, side-to-side, his drink down from his mouth. He went to move, but found her, Hermione, interlocked around Angelique heading towards them.

"What's wrong with Hermione?" Obviously, Steph had seen her, too.

"I'm not sure, but I don't like the look of her…," Nathaniel set off to meet them, their distance still apart, but closing in slowly.

Stephanie followed. "Do you think she's gone overboard again?"

"Shut up, Steph!" Nathan bit, to Steph's recoil.

"Sorry…?"

When he turned his head back around, having snapped so suddenly at Steph's remark, he saw Hermione pulled down from the crowd by her hair. Another girl grabbed Angelique when she started in to defend her, and in abrupt succession, Nathan was in the middle of a cat fight.

He saw her…and couldn't believe it, but believed it all the same.

Trisha, and her posse.

"YOU FUCKING BITCH! YOU STOLE HIM!!"

Security from every corner began to rush in and claw their way towards the conflicting mass of girls just as Nathan was. Nathan grabbed hold of one of Trisha's friends and pulled her off Angelique in time to reach around and take Hermione. Trisha's hands, her fingers, clung to Hermione's hair. Steph had come in to help, taking Hermione when Nathan let her go to accompany Trish. He grabbed her around the waist, lifted her from the floor and systematically unlocked each of her digits from Hermione's crown.

He tossed her aside and she stumbled on the floor.

He went to go back, seeing Steph with Hermione only to feel a weight on his back, being pushed on as he, too, fell on the floor. One bouncer had grabbed him, put him in a stiff headlock and began escorting him and the rabble from the premises.

***

"Take her home, Steph. She's not feeling well."

Nathan had his back turned to the police, having given Hermione to his mate's girl, issuing his demand. Hermione had already given her statement, or what there was of it, intoxicated and bruised, not to mention the migraines. She sheltered her face into Steph's chest, a hand over her eyes to escape from the flickering blues lights surrounding them outside the Ministry of Sound.

Off in one corner sat Angelique speaking to the police, and more with the bouncers…and Trisha, and her group off on the opposite side of the road.

"Here," Nathan shimmied off a key from his set. "For the front door. Get her some water, something to eat and get her to bed. I'll be there in a moment."

"Are you sure?"

"Go I said!"

Donald nodded when he saw his mate's eyes go to him, and with an arm wrapped around both Hermione and Steph, made their way to his car.

Nathan pivoted back to the police where he stated quite astutely, an eye toward the pathway away from him…at Trish, "Yes, I'd like to press charges on her, officer…"

***

April 14, 2001

2:11 AM

Oxford Halls of Residence

It was like I was through the looking glass, in Wonderland…a dreadful sort of Wonderland, and I was Alice. Alice, sitting at Mad Hatter's tea party and everyone and everything was turned upside-down and inside-out. I sat, so hopelessly, so tuned off from life with each passing blow. I was a refugee-that was it-having lost my homeland, or home, and the warmth that lay inside. Now, I went between worlds, that and this, reality and imagination, false and truth.

I made up my mind to leave Nathaniel, and Donald and Stephanie, my pseudo-family. I felt I'd gotten too close to Nathan, and that sense of betrayal hung over me like a plague. It may have been all in my head…but it seemed the longer I stayed, the more trouble I'd cause…within their lives, and within mine. Distraught, utterly gone, psychologically, physically, my only crux was alcohol, or in the arms of…

And, I thought I didn't want that.

I wanted Harry.

I want Harry.

I want Harry back… I want everything back, however lopsided and absurd that life had gotten. I didn't care. I wanted to see him, smell him, feel him. I wanted to hear his laugh, see that brow upturn when he grew confused, and especially his smile. I felt I had betrayed so many by leaving as is… Gin, she probably hadn't a wink of sleep in these few months.

But, I didn't want to go back there…quite yet

I needed some time for myself.

I wanted some time alone…just not that alone.

With the most unbiased of friends…people who wouldn't drown me in affection nor wouldn't isolate me. A simple balance of privacy and publicity on all fronts. I wanted to feel safe, and yet, lay in my own bed with no strings attached…and I knew just who to go to in this time of need. One person who would welcome me with open arms and was that kind of friend… I'd get to Gin, and that world in due time…just…for the meantime…

Me.

To sort me out.

To do me things.

And, live with me.

Nathan,

I'm sorry for leaving like this, in the middle of the night, with all that we've been through. Please don't think the reason I left was because of you. That's far from the truth. I just need space after… I wouldn't be the person I am if I wasn't honest with you; but, I believe in an alternate time, I could have truly loved you. You are everything, everything that I ever wanted in my life. You are very special to me. I had this feeling once…and you helped me see it through. Thank you for being so sweet to me and allowing me into your home.

Always,

Hermione

I left the note where he had first left me mine.

Quietly, I used a bit of wand-work to carry one suitcase instead of a dozen. Handle in-hand, I took up a tired Crookshanks lazily purring at my feet. I looked back at the slightly-opened door of Nathan's bedroom where I knew he lay, said a silent goodbye…held back a tear…

And vanished.

{Author's Note: kudos to anyone who can figure out who Hermione will be going to in the next chapter!}

Document created with wvWare/wvWare version 1.2.7

-->