Chapter III: Things Amiss
--
A memory is what is left when something happens
and does not completely unhappen.
-Edward de Bono
"Well… here it is," Ron pointed out once he and Harry finally arrived at the townhouse Hermione was supposedly currently residing in.
"Yeah," Harry nodded.
"We should go knock now, right?" Ron asked once he noticed that Harry wasn't making any move to do anything.
"Yeah," Harry nodded, but he made no move to follow through.
Ron frowned, eyeing Harry with puzzlement. "So are we going to?"
Harry nodded, again. "Just give me a minute. It… it's odd, you know? I mean, we're supposed to be living together, but here's some new place I've never even heard of and someone tells me she's totally moved into it already. It… it's just odd."
"Yeah, but it's Hermione," Ron said, clapping Harry against the back. "She always did move quickly… you know what she's like, she knows what she wants, or thinks she does, and she just goes after it. She's sometimes impulsive."
"Yeah, but we just fought, Ron. I know we broke up, but…" Harry paused, running a hand through his hair as he took in the sight before him. "It just wasn't real, I guess, but… look at this."
"You don't know anything for sure until you knock on that blasted door, y'know?"
"Yeah," Harry nodded. "You're right, let's go."
--
"When did you two finally get together?"
"Seventh year, Halloween," Hermione answered, she couldn't help the bubbly… pinkish feeling she got at the mention of the memory. It was a classic, as far as she was concerned, perfection personified.
"I need you to take me back. Show me the memory," the voice ordered, but softly. The voice was gentle with her, she felt comforted. It was as if it was guiding her to safety rather than constantly telling her what to do. She found its presence oddly soothing.
"Okay," Hermione whispered.
"Gopple-googger, Hermione, you look brilliant!" Luna gasped when I came out of my personal bathroom at the Heads' dorm and into my bedroom where I was preparing for the Halloween ball with my recently acquired friend.
I immediately blushed, taking no notice of the odd terminology since I'd gotten used to it ever since we'd started getting closer back in August when we ran into each other at Diagon Alley and finally had a chance to really talk a bit. She was odd, but sweet and genuine, never fake. I loved being around her; she made me feel as if I could be myself, and unabashedly so. I felt comfortable with myself when I was around her.
"Thank you… but do you really think so, you're not just being nice?"
"Well it wouldn't be very nice of me to lie, would it now?" the perfect Tinkerbelle replica replied. "Besides I think you make an awesome Peter Pan to my Tink… I really loved that film when you introduced me to it!" Luna gushed.
I laughed, looking down at myself. "But do you really think it was a good idea to forgo the tights and wear these pumps… they are rather high, after all…"
Luna groaned and sent me a disbelieving look. "Have you any idea how incredibly sexy you look, Hermione? Your legs are to die for, flaunt them in that short dress and those heels! You do them justice, I promise!" she assured me with a wide smile, her words and tone so sweet that I couldn't help, but giggle just a bit.
Still it did nothing to assuage years of insecurity, so with a shy shake of my head, I sent her a doubtful look. "Come on, Luna, I'm hardly beautiful."
Luna laughed, the sound incredulous rather than joyous. "You really don't get it, do you?"
"Get what?"
"How beautiful you are."
"Don't lie," I weakly mumbled, shifting my gaze downward at those words.
"But I'm not, and I'm not just talking about right now either. You're not the general perception of it, but you're so much better, in my opinion. Look at yourself, Hermione," she ordered me, pushing my chin up and forcing me to stare into the mirror before us. "You've got this amazing, curly, sex-hair-"
"Luna!"
"Oh don't act like a prude, we both know you're not a virgin," she chastised me with a wicked little grin on her face, truly befitting of her character, too. "It's absolutely ethereal, Hermione, and any bloke who fails to realize that is an idiot who doesn't deserve you… even if he is the savior of the wizarding world."
Those words drew a surprised gasp from my mouth. "How… how'd you know?"
She tilted her head to the side, a soft smile gracing her lips. "We haven't been friends long, Hermione, but despite that we've spent a lot of time together, gotten rather close, and I've learned how to read you. Don't worry, though, Ron and Harry are absolutely clueless like typical blokes."
"How long have you known?" I quietly asked.
"Not long… only realized about two weeks ago, actually."
"You could have told me."
She shrugged. "I was biding my time, waiting for the right moment."
I nodded, silent. "Well you definitely chose a good one," I smiled, flushing a bit.
"Glad to hear it… come on, let's got party-hearty like it's 1999!"
I loudly laughed, rouging. "That's it, no more muggle movies for you, this is becoming ridiculous!"
--
"It's been five minutes and she hasn't answered yet even though you've been pounding on it, maybe we should just come back later?" Ron offered.
"No," Harry grunted, adamantly shaking his head. "Doubt her wards are that strong yet, we're going in."
"You know… somehow I don't think she'll find breaking in all that appealing…"
Harry sharply turned to him, staring him down with determination. "Do you really think I give a fuck at this point?"
Ron puffed out his cheeks as he let out an exaggerated breath. "This is ridiculous," he noted. "You're both idiots."
"I'm not the fucking idiot. She is," Harry argued before whipping out his wand and muttering a few unrecognizable spells that soon forced the door to open on its own.
"If she tries to hex my balls off for this, I'm going to turn on you in a second," Ron informed him as he reluctantly followed Harry into the house.
"Fine with me," Harry murmured as he took in the sight before him. The living room was so different from the one they had shared. It screamed that a girl lived there; it made the fact blatant, as opposed to their eclectic abode. Everything was so perfectly placed, as if it belonged in a catalogue. Every angle was considered, every ostentatious detail taken care of… it was picture perfect, just waiting for a catalogue photographer, as far as Harry was concerned.
It was disconcerting, how different it was from the space they'd shared. It was almost as if another person lived there, as if someone else had prepared the space. It didn't scream Hermione, but any woman out there hoping to decorate their first home. It wasn't personal, there weren't any pictures of her or friends, just interesting magazine shots placed in frames.
Harry honestly didn't know what the hell he was supposed to make of the sight before him.
With heavy legs he made his way out of the room and into the kitchen. The colors at least seemed reminiscent of something Hermione would enjoy. The warm blues and chocolate brown were inviting and comforting, just like she'd always enjoyed her kitchens to be. It was always one of her favorite rooms, reminding her of the times she'd spent with her mother and father, watching them prepare dinner as they sang along to Sam Cooke or did something that drew an utterly cliché picture in Harry's mind. They were her favorite memories, and at least that room provided that, but something was still off. Harry couldn't find the toaster oven, coffee machine, or kitchen aid that Hermione was so dependent on.
It was a great room, but it just… it wasn't for her. It couldn't be.
Harry sighed has he scratched his neck, turning towards a staircase in the room and climbing up them to the second floor. He reluctantly moved upward, a bit scared of what he would see next and simultaneously curious. There was simply something off about it; the air of it didn't scream Hermione. She'd enjoy it, find it pretty, he was sure, but it just wasn't her, specifically.
It was weird.
--
"May I have this dance?" a voice I knew all too well asked me from behind the second Luna and I walked into the hall that had been converted for the event. I turned around and had to stifle a laugh at the sight of cape, mask, and moustache clad Harry. "Oi, no mocking! I've been told I make a rather fetching Zorro," he immediately defended, reading my thoughts. He always was rather talented at that, too.
"Well your fan club would also probably assure you that you make a sexy ogre. They're rather biased, I'm afraid," I told him with an impish smile.
"Well I bet I could," he retorted, looking rather glum.
Luna giggled. "I think what Hermione's trying to say is yes, she will dance with you. She simply needs to mock you a bit first to ensure that the order of the world is restored and all… we'd hate to have nunerbugs attack the dance because of some sort of misbalance, you know. But now that that's over with, feel free to take her for a turn on the floor," Luna pushed Hermione, none too gracefully either, into Harry's awaiting arms.
"Will do," he winked at Luna before grinning down at me. "Ready?"
I bit my lip as I looked up at him. "I thought you hated dancing."
"Well the sight of you in that sexy little outfit was incentive enough. I'd hate to see some other bloke groping you on the floor when I could be," he replied with a cheeky smile as he pulled my body flush against his once we reached the dance floor.
I hushed a gasp for the sake of my ego. "And who says I'd want you to grope me?"
"No one," he admitted. "I'm just praying that you might be okay with it… so okay with it that maybe you'll even consider reciprocating," he answered, his eyes twinkling as he entwined my arms around his neck before moving both of his hands to the small of my back, rubbing soft and seductive circles into it.
I tried desperately to retain a visage of calmness as he did that. "Because it'd be unfair for us to be on unequal footing…" I ventured, flirtatiously, as I took some initiative and toyed with the strands of hair brushing his neck-an act that he appeared to genuinely enjoy as he closed his eyes, releasing a soft hum.
"Of course," he said, his voice hoarse. It took him a few minutes to recollect himself, but when he finally did the look was back in his eyes and I had to stop myself from melting at the sight of it. The reality was so much better than anything I could have dreamed of. The look he sent me was simultaneously caring, gentle, and downright raunchy.
God, I was so screwed at that point!
"So what do you say, Hermione?"
"To what?" I asked, moving my head to rest at the crook of his neck, deeply inhaling his scent, yet another element adding to my slow seduction.
"How about a date with a promise of groping later on?"
My body stiffened and snapped back as my eyes widened. That was unexpected, to say the least. "A… a date?" I sputtered, rather unattractively.
My reaction appeared to illicit a bit of insecurity as I felt his hands clench from behind me, crackling. "Yeah… as in… in a non-platonic sort of way, of course…"
I nodded numbly. "Wow."
"A good wow by any chance?"
I paused for a minute, stunned to silence, but when I finally regained control of my body I sent him a full smile. "A fantastically mind-boggling wow," I replied before pulling his face to mine and capturing his lips in a soft kiss.
...
After stumbling through two guestrooms Harry finally found himself in a room he was sure was meant to be Hermione's. The bedroom was light and airy, just the way she liked her room to be. Harry found some clothing in her closets, but the selection was sparse. He did, however, have to wonder how it had managed to get there. When Hermione had left she had taken some clothing with her, but that wasn't it. Those items he saw in there weren't in her luggage when she packed. He was sure of it, absolutely secure in the fact.
With a deepening scowl and a shake of his head he walked out of the room and made his way to the next one. What he was met with left him paralyzed.
Harry's fists clenched as he took in the sight of the last room… the library. He saw all of her books lining the walls and, he thought, even a few new selections in addition to those she'd housed at their flat.
It was a daunting revelation. It struck him to the core. It was over. The rest of the rooms may have come off as temporary or slightly cold, but that one was personal. That room was everything Hermione loved in a library, exuding both Hogwarts and warmth… it was everything she'd ever wanted.
He didn't know when she'd done it exactly, but she'd definitely managed to permanently erase everything they'd once had. The place was completely devoid of his presence. She was clearly wholly intent upon beginning anew, without him.
The thought left him shaken. He honestly wasn't sure how he was supposed to respond to the situation at hand. Though they'd supposedly broken up, he'd never expected it to last, to stick. They were both so passionate… they were fiery people who often let their ire get the best of them. He'd fucked up, but it was supposed to be temporary. Wasn't it?
So why was she giving up?
How could she just give up like that?
"Fuck," he breathed out with a heavy and tired sigh as he walked over to the dark wood table by the window. He carelessly kicked the chair aside as closed his eyes, letting out a heaving breath, letting his balled fists smash down against the table, supporting his weight. He tried to let the sunlight comfort him as he stood there, he tried to close everything out, he tried to forget.
"Um… mate?" Ron cut in, interrupting what was probably the first peaceful, albeit traumatic, moment he'd had all day.
"What?" Harry asked through gritted teeth.
"What's that?"
"What's what?" he asked, not bothering to move a muscle as he replied. He honestly couldn't bring himself to give a damn at that point; not after what Hermione had done, regardless of her reasons. He was simply too exhausted, both emotionally and physically.
"That… that paper lying between your hands. What the fuck is that?" Ron asked, his tone trilling with confusion and a tinge of fear.
"There's no paper there, Ron," Harry tersely informed him, silently asking himself what sort of a danger it was to his best friend if he suddenly began seeing things. Was Ron going crazy on him now? He honestly wasn't sure if he could handle a delusional friend on top of everything else. It was just too much.
"Um… yeah, there kind of really is."
Harry heaved another angry breath; letting it turn into a low and guttural growl towards its end, before prying his eyes open.
And lo and behold… there was a note.
Harry turned to Ron, utterly confounded. "That wasn't there before."
Ron nodded, eyes wide. "I know! You… you just reached the table and suddenly poof! It… it just appeared, and out of nowhere, I swear!"
Harry blinked, staring at Ron for a minute, utterly perplexed, before returning his attention to the mysterious popping note. Slowly he picked it up.
Dear Mr. Harry James Potter,
Apologies, but you have been forgotten. So, on behalf of Hermione Jane Granger,
we request that you cease any and all contact with her. She has chosen to end all
ties, past present and future, with you and it would be most gracious if you'd
assist her in this endeavor.
Sincerely,
The Make a Dream Foundation
Making your Nightmares Go Poof since 1997
"What the fuck is this?" Harry voiced once finishing with the unsatisfying and uninformative, but ominous note.
Ron shook his head as he finished reading from over Harry's shoulder. "I'm not sure," he admitted. "It sounds like all sorts of bad…"
Suddenly, their thoughts were interrupted by Harry's ringing phone.
--
"That sounds like a nice memory," the voice noted.
"It was," Hermione agreed. "I can't even think of a happier moment in my life. I felt so beautiful… desired."
"So you two were good together?"
"Yeah… being with him helped me grow so much. I became a better person because I was with him. I feel as if… being with him helped me break out of my shell. I was able to feel more secure in myself. I didn't feel inferior or as if I didn't deserve to be with him, as opposed to other girls. I had my place and I loved it… and Harry… when he looked at me I felt as if I was the only person in the world. Harry looked at me as if I was the most wonderful thing he'd ever come across. I don't think that anything can be so exhilarating."
Harry's brow wrinkled as he read the name on the screen of his WiziCell. "It's Neville."
"Weird," Ron murmured. "Pick it up then," he goaded, "let's find out why he's calling."
"Probably to berate me," Harry commented, rolling his eyes before he accepted the call. "Yeah?" he grunted.
"What the hell did you do?" Neville shouted.
"I don't know what you're talking about," Harry stiffly replied.
"Oh really? Then why did I just receive a letter from the 'Make a Dream Foundation?'"
Harry's eyes widened. "Wait… what?" Harry stuttered, his breaths coming out in short puffs as a fit of shock hit him.
"Exactly!" Neville shrieked.
"What… what does it say?" Harry asked.
"It… it's weird, Harry," Neville warned.
"Just read it," he ordered.
"Okay," Neville agreed.
Dear Mr. Neville Longbottom,
We write to inform you that Hermione Jane Granger has chose to purge
Harry James Potter from her memory. If you could please do her the service of
assisting her through this period we are sure that efforts of a caring best
friend would be greatly appreciated.
Thank you.
The Make a Dream Foundation
Making your Nightmares Go Poof since 1997
"Harry… what's going on? Is Hermione in trouble?"
"I… I have no clue," Harry admitted.
Neville let out an angry breath, a snarling sound escaping him. "Where are you?"
"Hermione's new place."
Harry was met with a pregnant pause. "N-new place?" Neville stammered.
"Yeah."
"Fuck, Potter," he breathed out. "Fine," he snapped, gulping a terrible lump in his throat. "Text me the address, I'll be at the door in ten."
"Okay," Harry nodded.
--
Author's Note: So sorry for the late post. I wasn't receiving replies here and actually forgot about updating here until a reviewer noted that I had three up at other sites, but only 2 chapters up here.
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