A/N: Sorry about how long this took to get out; I've been swamped! But it looks like it's all been cleared up, so you can expect the frequent updates again!
"Missing someone gets easier every day. Because even though it is one day further from the last time you saw each other, it is one day closer to the next time you will."
-Anonymous
Hermione, I Miss You
21-year-old Harry Potter sighed and ran a hand through his messy ebony hair as he sat down heavily on his couch. He opened the new Auror manual and stared at it with unmoving eyes, using this time to think…as he always did.
He had had a long day in the office, what with all the crimes happening and whatnot. He had taken the position of Head of Criminal Intelligence about a year ago, meaning he was pretty much involved with every criminal case in the magical world and some of the more severe in the muggle. When originally applying for the recently vacated position, he had informed his superiors that he was tired of fighting Dark Wizards, having done it his whole teenage life.
The truth was actually quite a bit different.
He loved fighting Dark Wizards and fighting crime-it was his life's calling. He had actually taken the intelligence position for very personal reasons, reasons known to none but himself. Some may have called it selfish and even manipulative had they seen how he had used his fame to attain the position, for nobody under the age of forty had ever received it. Some may have called it selfish…if they could see that much but not the reason for which he had done it.
Because, in truth, that reason was love.
Nothing more, nothing less. Just love for a woman who had up and vanished from the wizarding world without a trace three years ago, just one year out of Hogwarts. Just one year after helping Harry defeat one of the most evil wizards of all time. Just one year after making him fall in love with every aspect of her. Just one year after unknowingly breaking his heart after she happily informed him that she and his best friend had gotten together.
Harry dropped the book on his lap with a sigh, not possessing enough energy to try to fool himself that he was working and was most definitely not thinking about her. Just as he did every night. He indeed thought about her every night, every day, every hour, every minute. He couldn't help himself. Three years it had been and she still ran every aspect of his life.
Especially his job.
For it was for her that he had taken the Head of Criminal Intelligence position. For most of the day he worked for the law, but the last hour of his workday was always devoted to finding her. He didn't have enough power as a regular Auror to spearhead the search, so he had taken the intelligence job to attain that necessary power. But it wasn't enough.
Harry would never give up hope, though, no matter how impossible it seemed. They had exhausted every strategy they could think of and Harry knew many of his subordinates were beginning to think he was a bit of a nutter…even Ron Weasley, his best friend and her first (and only, to the extent of Harry's knowledge) boyfriend. "It's been three years," they all said, "when are you going to realize she's gone and just give up?"
"Never," Harry said croakily, startling both himself and his phoenix, Fawkes. Though close, Fawkes was no Hedwig (and he knew to Fawkes that he was no Dumbledore), yet still gave him a very morose note and hopped onto the back of the couch to nuzzle Harry's head sympathetically. Harry absentmindedly reached up a hand to stroke Fawkes as he thought about the devastating news Ron had given him today.
"Hey Harry," he had said, knocking on his friend's open office door. "You remember that lead on Hermione, that one that said he had seen her on one of his business trips the other day?" Harry had nodded eagerly, hoping for good news. Ron's lips had pressed into a downtrodden line and Harry had felt his heart clench as Ron said, "He was found dead today in his home."
That was just another in a string of leads that had led to nothing, absolutely nothing. They had all forgotten, or disappeared, or in this case, died.
Harry sighed again and pinched the bridge of his nose before rubbing tiredly at his eyes, ready for the day to be over.
He stood up and Fawkes suddenly squawked before disappearing in a burst of flame. That's odd, Harry thought to himself as he started to make his way upstairs. Fawkes had never done that before. Harry, eyebrows furrowed in thought, sat down on his bed and began tugging at his left shoe, the first step in getting ready for bed.
He stopped halfway though, feeling as though he would need to leave it on for the reason Fawkes had suddenly decided it was prudent to leave like that. He sat in silence, growing more agitated by the second. Annoyed, he finally decided that Fawkes was just incredibly hungry and the urge to eat had overcome him. He went back down to restart taking off his shoe when Fawkes suddenly reappeared, scaring the hell out of him.
Fawkes dropped a piece of paper in Harry's lap and landed on the bed next to him. "Thanks," said Harry to the bird before hastily grabbing the paper and reading Ron's near illegible handwriting.
Hermione's at St. Mungo's. Get here quick.
Harry dropped the scrap of paper in shock as Fawkes held his tail feathers out for Harry to grab. Harry quickly did just that and Fawkes quickly used the phoenix's form of apparation, which was actually much more comfortable than the wizard's form of apparation.
They arrived in a hallway crowded with bustling Healers and a small amount of people hugging the walls and speaking in hushed whispers with one another. Harry stopped in his tracks as he saw an open door at the end of the hall. Inside the room was a woman who was screaming one of the most horrible screams he had ever heard as she trashed around on her blood-stained bed while Healers tried to operate on her. And he felt as though he was about to die when he realized that it was none other than the love of his life on that bed.
"Hermione," he said quietly, his feet automatically taking him in the direction of her room. "Hermione!" he said louder as his feet quickened the pace to a quick jog.
A pair of strong arms grabbed him and stopped him from going in the room, the owner of the arms saying, "Hold it, Harry. You can't go in."
"I can and I will," Harry snarled as he tried to grab his wand out of his pocket.
When that didn't work he began thrashing, trying to escape the arms and rush to Hermione to save her, to protect her. The arms picked him up and slammed him against the wall none too gently, knocking his head against the plaster. As white spots danced in his vision, the owner of the arms said, "God dammit, Harry. Get a hold of yourself or they'll kick you out."
Harry stopped struggling, Ron's logic cleanly cutting through his haze of desperation. "Good," Ron said with a relieved sigh while slowly, carefully releasing Harry.
Harry focused on his friend's face, which was fraught with worry. "What happened?" Harry asked as more Healers rushed past them and into Hermione's room. "What's wrong with her?"
"Dunno," said Ron with a shrug and worried glance at her doorway. "I was just visiting Lavender when they rolled her in, screaming a bunch of medical jargon at each other."
Harry, wanting more time to process the fact that Hermione was in the same building as him, swallowed and asked, "How's Lavender?"
"Good," said Ron with a smile. "Giving birth to your godson took a lot out of her is all. She'll be good to come home in a few days."
"Good, good," said Harry. "Where is Hugo?"
"With mum," said Ron.
"Ah," said Harry as Hermione's screaming grew louder.
Harry swallowed hard, feeling helpless as more sweat beaded on his forehead.
The screaming went on for more than a half-hour, and he could hear more activity from the healers along with a small girl who was crying, sitting next to a professional looking man in fancy dress robes. "Why don't they just stun her?" Ron asked, the first one to speak in over 20 minutes.
"She'll die," replied Harry. "If she goes under now she may never wake up."
Ron nodded and they sat there in silence, waiting for any change to occur. Finally the screaming stopped to be replaced by dead silence. Harry preferred the screaming.
Then came a moan. "Harry. Please…Harry."
Harry jumped up to his feet as a Healer rushed out of the room. "What was wrong with her?" he asked, wanting to know how bad it was before he went in.
"Sill is…" said the Healer, not wanting to sugarcoat anything and give Harry false hope. "Hit with multiple dark curses, crucios, and slicing hexes."
"So was it a dark curse that had her screaming like that?" Harry asked.
The Healer nodded solemnly and Harry's face became determined to the point of being scary, his power radiating throughout the hall. "I will catch whoever did this."
The Healer nodded, fear sending a shiver down her spine. Whoever had assaulted that woman better kill themselves before Harry Potter got a hold of them-they would be in a much better situation that way. "You can go in now," the woman said meekly. "We actually stopped most of it, but…"
Harry nodded grimly before nervously stepping into the room, a tentative smile on his face. He was finally seeing her after three years.
And she looked more beautiful than he remembered, the Healers having taken care of all the external injuries. Her bed had been scourgified too, so all the blood was gone. It didn't look nearly as bad as when he had first got there.
"Harry," she whispered agonizingly, her whole body trembling. Looks like it was still pretty bad.
"Hermione," he whispered back, grabbing her limp hand and squeezing it.
She gave him a small, pained smile and applied the tiniest bit of pressure back. "Holly…" she said so quietly that Harry held his breath to hear her better. "Take…care of…Holly."
Harry didn't know who Holly was, yet he nodded and stayed quiet for her sake. "Promise me..." she said, gasping with pain every couple words, "…you'll take care…of Holly."
"I promise, Hermione," Harry said quietly.
"Don't…Ron…" Hermione moaned, becoming less lucid, "No…Ron…"
"Ron's fine," said Harry, confused. "He's fine. You want me to go grab him?"
He turned to go fetch Ron but Hermione seemed to get a burst of strength as her other hand came over to grab his wrist. Harry stopped and turned back around. "No…Ron…Holly…Don't…"
"Okay, yeah," said Harry with a nod, not wanting to worry Hermione in her current state.
"Thank you," Hermione whispered before her hand went completely limp and her eyes slid closed.
"Oh Merlin," Harry breathed in horror before coming to his senses and yelling, "Help! Help her!"
A few Healers rushed in as another escorted Harry out into the hallway. The healers sounded frantic, and Harry numbly slid down the wall and stared at the floor between his legs as he rested his head in his hands.
Ron came over, worry etched on his face. "Was she awake? Did she say anything?"
"Yeah," said Harry, so focused on still trying to figure out what she had been telling him that he wasn't paying any real attention to Ron. "She told me…take care of Holly…and something to do with you."
Ron gulped. "Something to do with…me?" he asked incredulously, sweat beading on his forehead. "What did she say?"
"I don't know," said Harry thoughtfully. "Just you and the words 'no' and 'don't'."
"Who's Holly?" Ron asked, changing the subject.
Harry shook his head and truly focused on his friend for the first time since leaving Hermione's room. "I don't know…" he said thoughtfully. "Obviously female, must be a kid if she needs to be taken care of."
The man in the fancy dress robes stood up and walked up to them, trying his best to look important. "I couldn't help but overhear your conversation," the man said. "I'll be pleased to identify one Miss Holly Granger."
"Holly…Granger?" Harry asked. "Does Hermione have a sister or something?"
"You don't know?" the man asked while arching an eyebrow, pleased that he knew something the great Harry Potter didn't. "Holly Granger is that little girl right there." The man pointed at the girl who had been sitting next to him, the girl who had been crying. "Holly's father remains unknown and the rest of Miss Granger's family was killed during the war." Harry nodded solemnly, remembering the grisly scene in the Grangers' home during their seventh year. "And you obviously don't know that you are the only godparent of Holly, who is indeed the child of Hermione Granger."
"I'm her…Godfather?" Harry asked, shocked, already slowly walking toward her. She was about three years old and already seemed to have Hermione's hair-actually, now that he thought about it, she looked just as he imagined Hermione would've looked at three years old. There was no hint as to who the father could be.
Harry, numb with shock, kneeled in front of the young girl, whose eyes were red from crying. "Hello Holly," he said kindly.
"Hi Harry," she responded, though her 'R's were pronounced more like 'W's.
Harry, needless to say, was surprised. "How did you know I was Harry?"
"Mummy told me lots about you," she said. "She tells stories about you all the time. Maybe she'll tell me one tonight."
"Yeah," said Harry with a small smile on his face despite the lone tear that ran down his left cheek. "Maybe."
A Healer came out of Hermione's room at that second and Harry said, "Wait right here, okay? I'll be right back."
Holly nodded as she swung her legs and sniffled. Harry walked over to the Healer, who said, "It seems that whatever spells hit this poor woman nearly destroyed both her magical core and her body. She…well, she's gone into a coma."
Ron caught Harry's eye and heaved a relieved sigh. The Healer left them and Ron, catching Harry's sadness, said, "Cheer up, mate. This is Hermione we're talking about. She'll be out of there by the end of the week."
"Yeah," said Harry, turning away from Ron. "I…I'll see you in the office in a few days."
"Right," said Ron, waiting for Harry to get back to Holly before turning to look at Hermione's door. His eyes flashed with something unknown before he turned on the spot, apparating to his parents' house to grab Hugo.
Harry walked over to Holly, who was looking at him hopefully. "Is mummy going to tell me a story tonight?"
And Harry felt his heart shatter. Despite what Ron said, he couldn't find it in himself to be optimistic at that moment. The only reason he didn't break down and scream and bawl his eyes out was because of the promise he had made to Hermione. "Not tonight," said Harry, giving Holly a smile. "Your mum's already asleep. But I can tell you one about her tonight."
"So am I going to your house?" Holly asked excitedly.
Harry chuckled. "Yeah, are you okay with that?" he asked her.
Holly pretended to think hard about it, seeming oddly mature for three years old. "As long as you tell me a story about mummy," she said, leaping off her seat and grabbing Harry's hand, looking up at him with admiration shining in her eyes.
"Deal," said Harry with a grin, turning on the spot and apparating the both of them to his house in Godric's Hollow.
It wasn't until after he had made a room for Holly, tucked her in, and told her a story that he finally allowed himself to cry in the comfort of his bed.