Unofficial Portkey Archive

Author's Note: Okay guys, here's the next chapter. Thank you for the reviews, I am genuinely grateful for everyone sticking with me! I also want to let you know that I'm also on FF.net under the same name (I've been there for years actually haha) and I have some of my other works there if you'd like to check them out. Enjoy!

The Librarian

Chapter Four: Until It's Gone

Hermione froze. Something had glued her feet to the floor and tied her arms to her sides and widened her eyes.

He was different.

Harry was different.

He stood there, stopping his brisk walk, with his hands in his pockets, and he stared at her with his mouth wide open. He seemed just as surprised by her as she was by him.

There was a dark shadow along his jaw line, and his hair was messier than ever, and his eyebrows were pulled together, and his green eyes were bloodshot, and God, he was different, and he looked like hell, and Hermione almost wanted to ask if he was okay… and she hated herself for it.

Their years of separation had done a toll on him.

Did she look different to him? He was certainly looking at her like she was different. Did she look like hell, too? Had three years changed her that much? She felt different, and perhaps not for the better. No, definitely not for the better.

The two of them stared at each other, neither of them sure of what to do. Hermione felt her heart racing behind her ribs. Could he hear her heartbeat, too? Her hands instinctively balled up into fists, and they were shaking. They were really, really shaking. She felt goose bumps ride up her pale skin. Cold sweat was collecting at her hairline. Her bottom lip was trembling.

She didn't feel angry at him. She thought that she would feel a rush of anger whenever she saw Harry again, but her rage was nowhere to be found… she must have left it back with common sense, back in her living quarters, or perhaps the library. How could she be pissed when he looked like he'd just walked out of hell? Or maybe he was still trapped in it….

"Hi."

Harry's voice was different. He sounded nervous, like she was going to hex him again.

Hermione didn't know if she was supposed to reply or not. She wasn't sure what to think. Her mind was going blank… her mind, her best weapon, was actually failing her for the first time. Her heart kept racing. Her hands were still shaking at her sides. She must have looked ridiculous, and for a moment, she felt embarrassed. Embarrassed! This man had been her best friend for practically a decade, and she was embarrassed in front of him.

She just nodded in acknowledgement towards him and said, "Hello."

Her voice was different, too. It wasn't her normal, bossy, Hermione-ish voice that she used around most people. It wasn't even that soft voice she normally had saved just for Harry. It was a small, trembling voice that sounded weak and almost like she was going to cry.

Was speaking the right thing to do? Was that being too nice, to acknowledge his existence? Would he take it as more than it was? No, he wouldn't… he never took her hints as anything in their Hogwarts years, he never knew about her feelings towards him…. Harry was never good at taking hints….

She folded her arms across her chest. Hearing his voice had somehow unfrozen her from her position. Hermione began to walk, determined to get past him now, trying desperately to act as though they hadn't seen each other, as though this was not possibly the most awkward moment of her life. She couldn't do this anymore. There was a tangible tenseness in the air.

Seeing him was suddenly changing everything, and she needed to get away…. She needed to think straight….

"I - er - how've you - you been?" Harry asked in a rushed, choked voice as she walked quickly, her heels slamming against the tiled floor.

She slowed down her pace and shrugged, staring at the floor beneath her. Hermione knew that she was watching him. A pink flush flew to her cheeks.

Quite honestly, she didn't know how she'd been. Hermione could not use words to describe the last three years. It was all a blur of emotions.

She was unable to meet his eyes. Hermione kept walking. She was a few feet away from him now. She would not turn around and walk the other way; she would keep walking normally and continue on her path to wherever the hell she was going.

As she walked further past him, she saw his body twist around through the corner of her eye. There was a strong smell of Firewhiskey to him and she felt tears stinging her eyes. Oh no… she heard Luna say that once in a while he turned to alcohol, but to actually have the proof in front of her was bothersome. She felt that protective side of her rushing in without consent. It always did that; she always felt protective of Harry, and she always would feel that way, even against the horrors of alcohol.

"You smell like Firewhiskey," she said shortly, stopping in her tracks. It was stupid and dumb and utterly ridiculous of her, but her mind was still blank and she was losing control of her emotions.

"I -"

"You need to stop, you know," she said quietly. Even though her voice was quiet, her tone certainly said a lot, and she witnessed his eyes widening.

Some of her usual, indignant gusto was coming back to her, building up behind the glare that she gave him. Hermione wasn't sure why she was talking to him, but it needed to be said. Harry needed to stop. She had been one of the few people he had ever taken seriously before. Maybe he would still take her advice.

"I know," Harry told her gently.

He was staring straight at her with a pleading look in his eyes, like he wanted her to stay in that corridor forever with him. Hermione, meanwhile, wanted nothing more than to leave. Harry did not look angry at her for leaving. He looked upset. She'd prefer him having a hissy fit and throwing every curse word known to man at her. This, the look in his eyes, was something she had been avoiding ever since she'd left. Hermione never liked seeing a broken Harry… it always summoned a caring side to her that would reach the end of the universe and back if it meant that Harry would be happy again.

She couldn't stand being so close to someone so unattainable. He did not love her back. She would always be the plain, know-it-all, bookworm Hermione Granger to him.

Hermione took a deep breath and walked past him, still taking in his scent of Firewhiskey. Her heels were deafeningly loud against the tiled floor. She could feel his gaze following her until she turned the corner with her head still hung. Hermione's pace quickened and she finally made it back to the library. She unlocked the door and ran through the door way.

It wasn't until she slammed the door shut behind her and leaned against the wall that she began to cry.

. . . . .

"So, you saw her?"

Harry nodded, feeling stupid and staring down at his hands.

Andromeda Tonks gave him a searching look and looked like she was going to speak, but there was a crash in the living room.

"Oh, good God -"

"I'll get it," Harry said quickly.

He stood up from his chair in the kitchen and walked towards the source of the noise. When he entered the living room, he saw that Teddy Lupin was staring at a broken vase with an expression of curiosity.

"Teddy, did you do this?"

Teddy turned his head and his eyes - a shade of dark brown today - widened.

"Sorry, Harry," he mumbled.

Harry just chuckled and said, "It's fine, it's fine…. Reparo!"

He only punished Teddy when he found it absolutely necessary. Andromeda said, jokingly, that Harry spoiled Teddy… but Harry wanted to make sure that Teddy had the childhood that he never had.

Teddy clapped. "Aunt Hermy-own did that last time she visited!" he squealed. Instead of smiling, though, the boy looked a bit upset. His hair turned a shade of blue.

Harry forced a smile to send to his godson, hoping that would cheer him up. Hermione often visited Teddy when she was sure Harry wouldn't be there. Andromeda, like Luna, did not hold anyone accountable for what had happened. She was just glad that both Harry and Hermione (Ron never particularly made visits on his own, but he did go along when Harry invited him) still stopped by to see Teddy. Hermione had, according to Andromeda, been getting Ted into books, something that neither Harry nor Andromeda was particularly interested in.

Even Teddy was starting to realize now that Harry and Hermione did not visit together like they had at first.

Harry bent his knees so that he was nearly at the same eye level as Teddy.

"What did you break that time?" Harry asked his godson.

"I was helping grandma and Aunt Hermy-own with dinner," Teddy said, getting to his feet and his eyes brightening, "and I dropped a plate. Harry, when - when can I do magic?"

"When you go to Hogwarts, which will be in five years. I'm a teacher there," Harry added excitedly.

Teddy looked off to the side with a questioning look on his face, clearly trying to figure out how long five years was.

"You'll teach me everything?"

"Everything, little man," Harry said. "Hey, have you seen John lately?"

John was a boy who was taken to the neighborhood park, who was around Ted's age. Harry was relieved at the fact that Teddy had a friend his age to hang around with. His own childhood was only too keen to remind him that Harry had never had friends until he was eleven years old. Harry found that Teddy was sometimes reserved, almost too reserved, around other people - the only people he was comfortable around were his grandmother, Harry, and Hermione. He was like his mother when it came to his ability to change his appearances, and he had that heart-shaped face of hers, but his personality was very much like that of his father's.

"Yup," Teddy said. "Grandma took me to the park yesterday, and he was there."

"Awesome," Harry said happily. "Hey, listen - I've got to talk to your grandmother for a little bit, alright, Ted? Then maybe you and I can sneak off and get dinner in Hogsmeade, even though we're meant to go just on Saturdays, okay?"

Teddy laughed, and Harry ruffled his godson's hair again, which was now turning a blonde shade. Harry always took Teddy out to Hogsmeade on Saturdays and, sometimes, when Andromeda allowed it, went on a shopping trip to Diagon Alley on Sundays. He loved his godson and he knew that Teddy deserved the best childhood possible.

He turned around and walked back into the kitchen, where Andromeda had her hands folded on the table and wore an expression that showed that she was deep in thought.

"Back, sorry about that, Teddy broke a vase -"

"Did she say anything to you?" Andromeda asked suddenly.

"Er -" Harry sat down. So they were back on the topic of Hermione. "Yeah. She just told me to… to stop drinking, said that I smelled like Firewhiskey. But I only had half a bottle of Firewhiskey, I swear, it was a tough week and I -"

"We've talked about this before, Harry," Andromeda said firmly, "and while you've never dared to come and hang out with Teddy while you're in a bad state, I don't ever want it to happen. The moment I get one whiff of Firewhiskey, you won't be allowed to see my grandson until the day I die."

"I know, I -"

"Anyway," she said simply, trying to stray away from that subject, and reassured that she'd gotten her point across to Harry, "she still cares about you, Harry. I don't think that Hermione Granger will ever stop caring about you."

"No, she doesn't," Harry told her in a dignified voice. "With all due respect, Andromeda, you don't know the whole situation -"

"I know enough," she said quietly.

Andromeda Tonks had a knack for telling Harry what needed to be said, even when he did not want to hear it. She was like a normal version of Luna Lovegood, due to her ability to say the truth no matter what, and never refraining from saying what was on her mind. The war had hardened her; she'd lost her husband and her daughter. Teddy was all that she had. There had been long periods of grief where Harry had taken Teddy in for weeks at a time, away from an Andromeda that they did not want to face.

"Hermione just wanted to nag me about something," Harry defended himself angrily, without thinking.

"We both know that she was not nagging you," Andromeda said. "She just cares about you and doesn't want you to get hurt."

"If she cares so much, she wouldn't have left," he said weakly.

However he found it harder and harder to defend himself against Hermione. She was right to leave… he was a jerk - both he and Ron were - to her, who completely ignored the fact that she had feelings. It was only a matter of time until Hermione couldn't take being the third wheel anymore. Just like typical Hermione, she took a stand against the treatment of her.

"Has she mentioned me at all when she's stopped by? Or acted like I'm alive?" he added quickly.

Andromeda slowly shook her head, avoiding Harry's gaze. Harry sighed and balled his hands into fists.

Seeing Hermione had changed everything. Harry wanted to look at her forever and scream out apologies in a passion-filled voice, but all he'd said was a lame, "Hi," as a greeting.

She had changed.

Was it just him, or did Hermione look a lot prettier, too? She had never been ugly - in fact, Harry always knew she was pretty - but now she had a polished look about her, like she was desperately trying to create an illusion of perfection, like she wanted to hide the true Hermione. Her bushy hair had been pulled into a bun at the back of her head, hiding its bushiness. He was fine with the way her hair was before, though. Maybe he would tell her that one day.

Harry wanted the old Hermione back… he wanted to spend hours in the library with her if that's what he had to do. He'd sit there and watch her read an infinite amount of books, and they could even talk about them, too, if she wanted to. He wouldn't breathe a word of Quidditch if it would annoy her. Harry could even join S.P.E.W., if she was still into that. Perhaps he would ask her about the society, and they could talk about it. Just a pleasant conversation… that was all he wanted from her.

Now he missed her even more. When he saw her, the corridor had been momentarily deprived of oxygen, and his knees had weakened a great deal. He had called that woman his best friend during a very large part of his life. And now he wanted to call her that again… he wanted to look at Hermione without sensing hostility from her. He wanted to look at her and think: That's my best friend.

But considering how much he missed her, he wasn't sure if it was normal to miss a best friend that much. It wasn't even like he'd lost his best friend; it was as though he had lost a part of him, a piece of soul, when Hermione walked out.

It was his insensitivity that pushed her away. He wanted to take a Time Turner and undo all the damage of seven years, to treat her more nicely, to respect her for who she was. All he knew was that he wanted to build back up his friendship with her.

Her hostility was worse than her yelling. Harry would have preferred her hexing him again than this. It was as though they were complete strangers. At least if she'd hexed him, they would be acknowledged as someone who was certainly not a stranger. But now they had acted like they hadn't gone through hell together, like she hadn't picked him over Ron in that tent, like she wasn't the one person who had completely stuck with him to the end of Voldemort, like she hadn't shown him strength and compassion and, most of all, loyalty. For them to act like strangers was tearing Harry apart.

"I need to talk to her," Harry said suddenly, slamming his fist on the table as though to add to the effect of his words.

Andromeda looked up from her hands and stared at him for a few silent moments before speaking. "And what will you say?"

"Everything," he said breathlessly. "Everything. I want to apologize for being a -"

"Teddy's in the next room."

"-a jerk," Harry recovered, saying a nicer term than what he was really going to say. "I can't just… I can't just sit around and wait for her… I'll be waiting for the rest of my life if I try that. No, I have to - I have to talk to her." He stood up. "I need Hermione."

Andromeda did not respond immediately. She was anxiously twisting her wedding ring on her finger. She smiled sadly and then said, "You don't know what you have until it's gone."

. . . . .

There came a point in time when Hermione was very close to resigning.

But she was smarter than that. To resign meant to show weakness, and when had Hermione Granger ever shown weakness? Well, Harry Potter was the exception, of course. He was her one weakness, the one person she'd do anything for and the one person she was avoiding at all costs.

The library was closed, because it was ten o'clock at night. Hermione felt tired and worn out… her day had been spent reading Hogwarts, a History yet again - she could hear Harry's and Ron's degrading comments about this, and was reminded as to why she should have resigned - just to pass the time. But somehow, even reading would not calm her down. Hermione found herself constantly on edge, always looking out for when she'd see Harry again. She could not bear to see him. Harry had changed, and a part of her was almost certain that his disheveled appearance was due to her leaving. She placed a bit of blame on Ginny leaving him as well. Hermione never thought they were a good couple, but perhaps she'd been a bit biased in thinking this. It seemed ridiculous that Harry went for his fan girl and not the one girl who'd been the constant in his life.

However a part of her wanted to see him again, no matter how guilty she felt about it. Hermione loved him and her heart was throbbing - quite literally - to just catch one glimpse of him, whereas her brain was calling her stupid and saying that Harry did not deserve her, and that was one of the reasons she'd left him. Seeing him had changed everything. The whole purpose of her avoiding him was because she knew- She knew it! She knew it all along! - That if she saw him, she'd be sucked right in again. And she was… and Hermione hated herself for it. And then she hated herself for hating herself. It was a vicious cycle of self-hate that, quite honestly, she simply didn't have the time for. It was all getting rather complicated, and it was times like these where her mind would go blank and she had to think just to remember her own name again because all she could think of was Harry, and his bright emerald eyes and his dark messy hair….

Harry did not make an effort to see her all week. She was grateful for this… if he made a scene in front of students at the library, it would have been catastrophic. The last thing she needed to do was talk to Harry in public.

But the wish that Harry would not talk to her in public had a loophole: instead, he talked to her in private.

Five after ten, there was a whispered, "Alohomora," from the doorway, and suddenly the door to the library opened. She thought that voice was coming from a student, naturally.

"The library's closed!" she barked.

She walked around to the front of her desk and held her wand tightly in her hand. It was an instinct of hers, after the war, to always be armed, even if her assumed target was a student. Hermione still had nightmares of the war… of Voldemort, of Death Eaters, of Bellatrix Lestrange's insanity and desire to torture….

. . . . .

In those first few moments, Harry remained under his Invisibility Cloak right after he opened the library door.

Oh Lord, there she was.

Hermione was walking around to the front of her desk with her wand held out defensively. The hell she had went through to help Harry defeat Voldemort made her this way, and it caused Harry to feel even guiltier. Her cloak was hanging off the edge of her desk, leaving her just wearing a Muggle outfit that Harry remembered many businesswomen wore, with a blouse tucked beneath a skirt that pinched her waist; however there were a few random buttons undone as though she'd dressed in a haste, and the hem of her blouse was peaking over her skirt in some places. Her hair was falling out of the bun it had been tightly encased in, and there was virtually no makeup on her face.

Harry wanted to tell her how much better she looked like this rather than the uptight, polished woman he'd met in the corridor that day. She looked beautiful. He wasn't sure exactly how he'd suddenly become so fond of how she looked, but all he knew was that he loved this natural form of Hermione. This looked more like the Hermione he grew up with…

"Who's out there?" Hermione called out. "The library's closed, you know -"

"It's me," Harry said.

At a time in their lives, Hermione would have been relieved, but now she looked even more tensed as he removed his Invisibility Cloak.

"What do you want?" Hermione asked. She lowered her wand but did not let go of it.

"I want to apologize," Harry said breathlessly. He pocketed the Cloak and looked at her with a pleading look blazing in his emerald eyes. Could she see how desperate he was right now? "I want to make things right, I want to fix this… fix us."

He gestured between them. Please, Hermione, he thought. There was sweat collecting on the back of his neck and at his hairline. Hermione had a hard look in her eyes. She was staring at him as though he was an intruder of her dear library and he was here to burn all of her precious books. That look was making Harry realize that a few words of apology were clearly not going to cut it.

"I'd like you to leave," Hermione said firmly. A few strands of chocolate brown hair fell into her equally brown eyes, but she did not bother to wipe them away. A blush was rising to her cheeks, which Harry thought was odd. It certainly conflicted with what she was saying. "Please."

"Hermione, please listen -"

"I don't have time to listen to your scripted apologies," Hermione said. Her voice was quiet but had a strong dose of power laced within it. "There's nothing that you can do."

"This isn't scripted!" Harry exclaimed. His hands balled into fists. His blood was boiling because he was angry, not at Hermione, but at himself.

"Just go, Harry." She spoke his name as though it were a vile curse word. "I can't do this."

"What did I do wrong, Hermione?" Harry asked. He took a small step towards her. "I know that I might have been a little ignorant, but - but for you to do this? What did I do?"

"It's more about what you didn't do," Hermione told him swiftly. Her eyes darted down at the floor, and she looked like the helpless twelve-year-old girl he'd saved from a troll. "Please go. There's nothing that you can do now."

"Hermione -"

"Harry, for Christ's sake, leave!" she shouted. "I can't - I can't deal with you right now!"

Harry was half expecting her to raise her wand, but she did not, even though he could have sworn that he saw her wand hand twitching upwards. There was a fire in her brown eyes and he was reminded that Hermione was not that helpless twelve-year-old girl anymore… she was over a decade older, and she was the strongest girl that he had ever known.

Harry backed away. Hermione would clearly only get more pissed if he stayed.

"I want my best friend back," he said as he took several steps away from her, but this only seemed to anger her further. "I'm sorry, not just for coming here, but for everything."

He reached the library doors. Hermione was still looking at him. Looking at the blazing look on her face somehow sent chills down his spine. God, what he wouldn't give to be on civil terms with her at least, to be able to talk to her….

"You mean a lot to me, Hermione," he said. "More than you'll ever know."

Hermione's eyes widened and the fire in her eyes was gone for just a moment. Both of them knew that Hermione's last words before she'd left him were, "How much do I mean to you, Harry?"

Her pink lips were parted but no words came out. A strand of hair fell and framed one side of her pretty face. He could see the freckles splattered across her small nose… had she always had freckles?

"Oh, Harry," she said softly.

It was the first time she'd used a gentle tone with him since she'd left. She bit her lip and then put her face in her hands. Harry's heart broke.

He stepped towards her and said, "Hermione - look, don't be upset, I didn't -"

"I need to think," she said in a muffled voice from behind her hands. "Please go."

"But -"

"I'm sorry. Please, just go."

Harry nodded, even though she couldn't see him.

"I-I'll go, I'm leaving, okay? I'll give you time to think, if that's what you want," he said, slowly stepping back and trying to sound reasonable. "I'll see you around, Hermione."

She froze at that last sentence.

He slipped his Invisibility Cloak on. Somehow, he felt as though running into another staff member after this encounter would be awkward and uncomfortable, and he did not want to see another human being for years. And besides, he liked to be invisible.

As he opened the door, he turned to look over his shoulder. Hermione had extracted her face from her hands and was turning her back to him, leaning against her desk. Her hair looked much better like this, all messy and Hermione-ish.

Maybe he would tell her that one day.

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