Author's Note: Okay, so if you've made it here I assume you read the first chapter and probably liked it. Yay! for you and me both. This is my first story on Portkey, so I'm a newbie. I've got a few more chapters coming, but up ahead I've hit a dead end. So, if you've got any ideas of what should happen next, I'd appreciate your thoughts! (P.S. thanks to JKR for her brilliant creation - just putting it out there that I don't claim to own her ideas, just borrowing some as a vessel to contribute a few of my own.)
"Any questions on the lecture?" asked Dr. Zern. Seeing none, she continued, "Alright then, see you all Monday."
At once the lecture hall bustled with activity as students shoved notebooks into bags and snapped laptops shut. Hermione took her time packing up; this was her last class of the week, and she wasn't in a hurry.
She'd been preoccupied all week, ever since she'd sent her letter off to Harry's address in Leeds. She hoped it would arrive alright. After all, his letter hadn't detailed where he was living these days or confirmed the return address was valid. Hermione didn't have the slightest inkling why Harry would take up residence in Leeds, of all places.
As Hermione left the lecture hall, her mind traveling over the English landscape in trying to imagine Harry's new abode, she faltered in her step. She had been gazing towards (but not really through) a window - was that an owl she'd seen? Not in the middle of the day, surely. Anyway, Harry had specifically noted that he was using Muggle post on purpose. She was just anxious, was all. She shook her head to clear it of that over-active imagination.
As she hurried up the sidewalk back to her dormitory, Hermione hugged her scarf more closely around her neck. The wind was blowing at her face, and tiny snowflakes swirled. She was truly looking forward to creeping upstairs and snuggling under a comforter with a steeping cup of coffee. Deirdre was already gone for the weekend, and Hermione was anticipating some quality time alone with nobody but herself.
It wasn't that she didn't have friends - Hermione was well liked among her colleagues and teachers. She was secretary for the Pre-Medical Society and even worked as an assistant in her department, filing papers and making copies part-time. She met with study groups twice a week and often accompanied her group mates for dinner and drinks after their meetings.
But Hermione hadn't gotten close to any of her friends. She didn't make weekend plans or meet friends at the Student Union for lunch. She spent most of her free time studying, sitting on benches in hallways between classes. She'd found it difficult to relate to anyone, what with spending the majority of her life fighting a wizarding war. Sure, she was friendly with Deirdre and her other suite mates, but they would never understand her as a person since she could never tell them about her past. She held herself back from telling too much about herself, just to be sure she wouldn't let her secret slip.
As Hermione walked up the hill towards home, the wind subsided and she could hear bits of the whispered conversation behind her. Two girls with their faces close together were saying something like, "no, I thought venomous tentaculas had seventy-two chromosomes…"
Hermione couldn't help but smile to herself nostalgically. She wasn't alarmed, or even surprised - she'd heard words familiar to her past life floating around the University, although always in hushed tones. It would have been easy to ally herself with other witches. She knew the two girls behind her, both who were in her genetics lecture, must have been educated at a wizarding school just as she had been. But Hermione preferred to ignore them, preferred to pretend she didn't know. That was easier than remembering the life and the people she'd so thoughtlessly left behind. Ignoring it was easier than admitting to herself that she might never go back. Even if she had the courage, or more accurately the nerve, there would be no place to go and no one to go back to.
But Harry - Harry had written. He hadn't seemed cross or despondent, just normal. He'd wanted to write, asked her to write. Maybe - just maybe - there was hope. Maybe all wasn't lost.
Back at the dormitory, Hermione trudged up the stairs to her third-floor bedroom and lumbered through the door, dropping her bag at the foot of her bed. As she was slipping off her shoes she noticed that Deirdre had left her bed unmade; Hermione knew she couldn't relax with that kind of disorder, so she tugged up the sheets and covers and fluffed the pillows a bit. When she straightened up to admire her reclaimed order, something tapped on the glass of her window.
Hermione gasped and jumped a mere inch, whirling around to face the window. It couldn't be - an owl? And the same one she'd seen from the lecture hall? She took a step closer to the window; it was still there, blinking serenely at her as it sat perched on the outside sill. Hermione kneeled on her bed, reached her hand out to touch the cold glass -
As she reached toward the window but didn't open it, the owl again pecked its beak against the glass. Awestruck, Hermione hastily undid the lock on the window and began to wrench it open. But before she could heave the glass up even an inch, the owl flew away.
Hermione's heart fell. She didn't move a muscle, just remained kneeling awkwardly across her bed, despondent and crushed. She must have imagined it. She had been obsessing lately, and it really wasn't logical at all to expect an owl to show up outside her window…
But then it returned. The owl perched on the sill just as before and pecked at the glass. Hermione's hand was still gripping the pane so she pushed all her weight into the stuck window and forced it open. This time the owl didn't move. Hermione breathed a sigh of relief; her heart was beating fast and hard. She directed her hands and eyes to the owl's leg to detach it's charge - but there was nothing there. The owl wasn't carrying anything. No letter, no package…
Before the confusion could consumer her, the owl spread its wings and flew off again. But this time, since Hermione's head was hanging out through the open window, she was able to see that the owl had only flown a few feet and perched in a nearby tree. The owl looked back at Hermione and cooed, then flew off again and perched this time on the tallest tree in the small grove behind the dormitory. Hermione frowned with her eyes and felt anxious butterflies in her stomach. What was going on?
Then something caught Hermione's eye and made her heart jump. Gold sparks. One small twinkle, then several together, then just a few, were shooting out from the trees. A new burst rose up, then another. The owl remained stationary, still staring back at Hermione.
Someone must be in the grove, signaling to her.
For the first time since she'd opened the window, Hermione realized she was freezing. The wind was bringing snowflakes in, and her hands were red and hurting from the cold. She slammed the window shut and pressed her nose to the glass, staring back at the owl. Still staring at her. And more gold sparks.
Hermione crossed her arms and tried to examine the situation the only way she knew how: logically. This was clearly magic, and someone was clearly trying to contact her. What she couldn't place was who and why. Her parents would call, and anyway they wouldn't be trying to contact her through magic. Ron, and most likely the rest of his family, thought her a deserting home wrecker. Harry had made it clear he wasn't posting via owl. And regardless of who, what was hiding down there in the trees?
On any other day, Hermione would have ignored this odd sequence of events and made excuses: the owl had eaten something funny; maybe he was sick; someone was roasting marshmallows over a campfire in the grove. She'd spent the better part of two years being purposely ignorant towards signs of the wizarding world, and she was practiced at being unphased.
But today was different. This she couldn't ignore.
Hermione slipped on her shoes and snaked into her coat. Halfway to the door, though, she stopped and turned around. She couldn't ignore that she was out of her mind, pursuing something that might turn out to be nothing, just because she was curious. But that logical part of her brain told her also to be scared. Could she be sure this wasn't a trap? It wouldn't be the first time a dark wizard would attempt to victimize someone through innocent emotion.
Without giving herself time to change her mind, Hermione wrenched open the bottom drawer of her dresser and closed her hand around the bag encasing her wand. Her stomach lifted with anxiety as she closed her fingers around it, but that uneasy feeling was quickly displaced with one of certainty and righteousness as her hand remembered its every divot and scratch. She carefully slid the wand, still in the bag, up into the sleeve of her coat, and raced from the room without locking the door.
Outside the winter air bit her nose and neck. She'd neglected to put on her scarf, but adrenaline prevented her from feeling the effects of the weather on her bare skin. Night was quickly descending over the landscape, but she could still make out the owl perched on the tallest tree, every few seconds backlit by a few wayward sparks.
Hermione's breathing was getting heavier despite the fact that she was purposefully walking slow. She didn't want to draw attention to herself or to the unordinary circumstances in the grove. She tracked up toward the dining hall, just as if going up for dinner, but then veered to the right and onto the path toward the stadium parking garage. The sparks were emanating from the trees behind the garage, but once she got to the edge of the wood the trees were too tall to allow her to see them.
Once in the thicket, Hermione was unsure which way to wander. And it was darker in the trees, seeing as how the sun was almost set. She took a few steps, squinting at the ground, and realized that the undergrowth to her left had been trampled to form a path. From the looks of it, the path was used often - most likely a deer trail. Without anything else to go on, Hermione walked along the little trail, following it deeper into the grove.
Darkness continued to descend, and Hermione plundered on. When she started feeling apprehensive, she just reminded herself that she had spent plenty of time in creepy forests, and at least this one wasn't home to any dangerous centaurs or giants. Or at least she thought not.
But then she heard something move. It was slightly behind her and off about a hundred yards, but she had definitely heard leaves crunching and weight shifting. She whirled around, her face burning. Her hand instinctively went to her wand, and she fumbled to relieve her wand from its imprisonment in the bag. Silently, she drew her wand and held it ready -
And then she heard nothing. Nothing but a soft breeze rustling dry branches and the far-off buzzing of cars on the highway. The adrenaline started to subside, and a feeling of harsh frustration set in. There was nothing in the trees. She didn't even know where she going. Hermione felt her face flush again, but this time it was from embarrassment. She was such an idiot.
She turned and started back toward her dormitory, stumbling in the dark. In her temper she tripped over a root and stubbed her toe hard. Why was she walking around in the dark when she had a wand in her hand? She was definitely - despairingly - alone. Automatically she said, "Lumos," and the tip of her wand lit up.
"Hermione?"
Hermione stopped walking. She stopped breathing.
"Is that you, Hermione?"
"Harry?" Hermione yelled out. She skipped several steps, trying to run toward the sound of his voice without tripping. That had definitely been his voice - it had been months and months since she'd heard it, but she would never forget it. "Where are you?"
"Here," Harry said. "Over here, behind the fence." Out of the corner of her eye, Hermione saw the same golden sparks shoot from a wand, and a reflection on Harry's glasses was barely visible through the space between them.
"I see you," she said. "Light your wand, would you?"
With Harry's wand light as a guide, Hermione made her way to where he was standing. When she was a few feet away, she could make out the tall black metal fence that was separating them. She was close enough now that she didn't have to yell so she whispered hoarsely, "What the bloody hell are you doing here?"
"Good to see you too, Hermione," Harry replied.
Hermione shivered and pulled the collar of her coat up higher. "Oh, Harry. Sorry, it's just - oh, blimey Harry, it's so good to see you!" A mile-wide smile spread across her face, and she was sure Harry could hear the excitement bursting out of her through her trembling voice. "Merlin, I can't believe you're here! I would hug you right now, but…"
"Yeah, the fence," Harry interjected. "Kind of a problem. I was starting to think you weren't going to come out here."
"How did you end up here anyway?" Hermione asked in a tone more curious than chastising. She was certainly irritated at his idea of an arrival, but she was too elated to even feign anger. "Is this your idea of a surprise?"
"This isn't exactly how I planned it," Harry said. "I just wanted to apparate somewhere where I wouldn't be seen, and I ended up on the wrong side of this damn fence - I walked around for a quarter of an hour but I never found a way inside."
Hermione laughed. "You couldn't find a way in?" she chided. "You're a wizard!"
"Yeah, well I didn't think it was the best idea to use blatant magic to destroy university property," he said. "And it's not very climable. I tried that, too."
Hermione just shook her head and pointed her wand at the fence. "Defodio," she said, and the bars of the fence instantly bent to create a passage big enough for Harry to fit through.
"Okay then," Harry said, stepping through. "Thanks."
And all at once Hermione was squeezing Harry between her arms. "I can't believe you're here, Harry. Blimey, Harry, I've missed you. You don't even know how much."
Harry tried to respond but couldn't catch a breath. Hermione let go of him slowly, then she turned her head away a smidgen so she could wipe her eyes without Harry seeing.
"Well this is good timing on my part, then, huh?" he said.
Hermione laughed. It was so - so unbelievably wonderful - to have her best friend back. "I suppose so. I just can't believe you're actually here."
"It's true," he said. "It's the real me, and I'm really quite bloody freezing so do you think we can go inside somewhere?"
"Oh, of course," Hermione said, trying to sound more composed. "If I can find my way out of this bloody forest, we'll just be on our way." Tossing the last of her Muggle façade to the wind she turned back to the fence and said, "Episkey," and the fence repaired.
"Impressive," Harry said, falling in step beside Hermione. "I thought you didn't do magic anymore?"
Hermione beamed inside. It seemed as if even years of magical abstinence hadn't been enough to rob her memory or deteriorate her talent. "I didn't," she said, "until right now. But we'd better put our wands away. We're getting close to the edge of the trees."
Harry and Hermione both whispered, "Nox," and their wand lights extinguished. Hermione delicately slid her wand into her coat pocket.
"There," Hermione said, "I can see the lights from campus now. We're pretty close."
For a minute the pair walked in affectionate silence. When they emerged from the trees, Harry said, "This isn't the least bit suspicious, is it? Two people going for a walk in the woods in the freezing cold at night?"
Hermione shrugged. "Couples come in here to snog all the time," she said. "That and smoke pot. Nobody will notice."
"You speak from experience?"
"No!" Hermione slapped him playfully in the arm. "Of course not."
Harry laughed. "Just teasing, geeze," he said. "You're a good girl."
"What's that supposed to mean?" Hermione retorted lightly. "Think I'd never sneak off to snog someone in the woods?"
This time Harry shrugged. "I meant the part on smoking pot. I've got sources that say you like a good snog in the woods."
"Harry! I mean, I don't know why we need to talk about that," she said.
"Sorry," he said, "I just thought…I thought you were probably over him by now. Sorry, really, I didn't - "
"No," Hermione cut in, "it's okay. It's not that."
"Okay," was all Harry said back.
"Forget it," Hermione said. "Anyway, we're coming up on my dormitory. Should we go up?"
"Actually, Hermione…I'd like to take you to dinner. I'm famished, anyway," Harry said.
"Oh," Hermione said, her face flushing again.
"I mean, only if you want to…er, just as friends."
"Oh, yeah, of course. Okay, Harry. I mean, I'm quite peckish myself," she said.
"Great," he said. "Um - how about you choose the place and lead the way? As I'm clearly not accustomed to this place."
"As you've just proven," she said. "Not a problem, although I don't know what kind of food you like. It's not like Britain here."
"Ha, yeah, I supposed we've never quite eaten a meal together outside of Hogwarts and holidays at the Burrow," he said. His voice trailed off with the last few words as if they'd escaped him despite an attempt to keep them in.
But Hermione wasn't phased. "Well, you do like pasta, don't you? Everyone likes pasta."
"Yeah, sure," Harry said.
"Okay, it's a bit of a walk, but you'll like this place," she said.
Leaving the dormitory behind, the pair set off for a trek across campus. Hermione simply glowed from head to foot. She could barely contain herself - she hadn't realized how unhappy she had been without Harry and without magic until she'd gotten them both back. And now that both had serendipitously returned to her, she was never going to let them slip away again.
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