Outlet

Hi. This is something I've been wanting to write for awhile. It should be a short 3 shot. This first one is inspired by “Will You Still Love Me Tomorrow” by The Shirelles. It is in Hermione's point of view. It is set right after the end of the last battle.

Disclaimer: Nothing is mine. Harry Potter is J.K. Rowlings. Lyrics to the Shirelles.

Tonight you're mine completely
You give you love so sweetly
Tonight the light of love is in your eyes
But will you love me tomorrow?

Is this a lasting treasure
Or just a moment's pleasure?
Can I believe the magic of your sighs?
Will you still love me tomorrow?

“Will You Still Love Me Tomorrow?” THE SHIRELLES

It was over. The war that felt as if it had raged on for decades finally came to a close after just a few short years. He had defeated Voldemort, which was no surprise to anyone. I always knew he would be the one in the end.

Despite being in the midst of the aftermath of the fight, the epic event that would one day be deemed the Battle of Hogwarts, my mind isn't focused on the present. Don't get me wrong, I will mourn for our losses—as there were many loved ones who gave up their lives for the cause. Yes, I will miss many—I miss some already. But right now, as I stand alone in the rubble of what was once a second home, I'm ashamed of what is really going through my mind.

It was over. The war. The separation with my parents. The worry and despair that had gripped not only the Wizarding World, but my Muggle life as well. Voldemort had left no stone unturned. His power reached everyone, struck everyone. Now it was over. Everyone was safe.

Except for me. Right now, I didn't feel safe from my own feelings, my own selfish thoughts.

It was over. Whatever it had been, it was no doubt over. The pieces we tried to force together in the dark corners of a tent to make a whole were now ready to heal and form wholes on their own. He no longer needed me, and I no longer needed him.

But I still wanted him. The fire he ignited in me never flickered even the slightest in all these months. And now, the roaring inferno was expected to vanish in an instant. There was no lid to slowly deprive the flame of oxygen, allow for it to adjust. No, a gallon of water had doused the flame and it never stood a chance.

Just like I hadn't. What we had was undoubtedly coveted. We never belonged to each other, did we? Hell, we never belonged to ourselves. All this time I've known him, we've been marked to be something above ourselves. It's bullshit. It isn't fair to have a very clear picture of who you want to be, but live with the knowledge that you will never be that person.

I never thought I'd be this person. I'd never choose to be this person—what was I? In the past, I tried not to think about it. I never thought about the end. Now I'm faced with it, so I may as well come up with a name. Whore? No, I wasn't a whore. I've only had one man in my life. Fuck mates? A booty call? Convenience? A distraction? Plain, raw hormones?

For some reason, those derogatory labels can't capture what I felt like we had. Love?

I think the insulting label might be closer.

Fuck mates. It certainly captures the raw passion of what was going on in those dark corners of the tent.

It was never tender or loving. There was no love. It was all passion. Raw. Rushed. Fevered. We had had to fit hours into minutes.

I can still remember the first night it had started. It was the night Ron left us. Harry was so angry and I was upset. No good would come of this separation.

How wrong I was.

Harry has a temper. That night, so many months ago, it knew no bounds. He had upended the table, smashed glass, and broke a number of things. I silently watched, terrified of this crazed reaction. Finally, he stopped—exhausted. I left him there on the floor, slumped uncomfortable against the sofa. I took a long shower, taking comfort in the water hiding my tears. After at least an hour, I finally returned to small hallway that would lead me to my room. I caught a glimpse of him, still pathetically slouched against the sofa. The only change was that a cup was accompanying him now.

He caught sight of me, pausing at the doorway leading to my things. My bathrobe was wrapped securely around me, revealing nothing. Living so closely together, ordinary boundary lines began to fizzle out. He saw my scrutinizing eyes and with a great effort, mustered up a small smile. “Relax—it's just water.” He reassured me.

I should have known. Harry wasn't one to drown his sorrows at the bottom of a bottle. No, that was Ron. Harry's temper was his outlet, and it was a short-lived thing. I could already sense the shame emitting from him.

He picked himself up, and with a few flicks of his wand, everything was repaired and back in order. “I'm sorry,” he mumbled softly.

Still, I stood there, gripping my robe. Heat had spread through my stomach, as if my body had made a decision before my mind had caught up.

I loved this man. I knew this. It had taken time to come to realize it, but once I had, I knew it was something that would never waver. How could I not love him? To see him looking so broken ripped through me like nothing else. He looked close to giving up on everything. His best mate had just walked out on him. Well, one of his best mates. No, I would never leave him. No, I would make this better. I would make any sort of sacrifice that would ensure that I would never have to see this look on his face again, this desolate, broken look.

I would sacrifice my love if it distracted him for even just a few minutes.

He may be angry and upset and ashamed, but he was still a hot-blooded male.

Just like I was a fiery female with heat throbbing in places like I've never felt before.

For once, I was confident. It had never occurred to me that he wouldn't agree to this. No, I had known that he, just like me, needed something. I may have been grasping at straws, but a good fuck seemed just as good as anything else.

I crossed the room swiftly and took the glass from his hand. Before I even downed the last of it, I already know he had lied. It was most certainly not water. The Firewhiskey had burned my throat, but it was nothing compared to the burning in other places in my body.

“You fuckin' liar.” Is all I said before I threw the glass behind me and roughly pushed him up against the wall. I had barely registered the sound of the glass shattering. My mouth was already on his before he could protest.

He didn't even try to resist. He had already had handful of my hair in his hands, pulling me closer. I still don't understand how we didn't mold ourselves straight into the wall that night. He grasped my knee and pulled it clear to his hip and wrapped it around his waist. The other followed soon after, and before I knew it, it was my back that all but became one with the wall.

He tasted like nothing I'd even tasted before. He certainly didn't taste of Firewhiskey and I had vaguely realized he hadn't drunk any in the first place. At this point, I didn't care.

He stumbled in the direction of his bedroom as I ran wet, hot kisses down his throat. My breathing had become sharp gasps. We fell onto a bed—his bed—and I dramatically ripped his shirt open. He paused his chest visibly heaving in the moon light. I hadn't wanted to stop, even for a moment. No, we might have come to our senses. Instead, I deliberately shrugged out of my bathrobe and had thrown him what could only had been described as a “come hither” look.

He hadn't needed any more persuasion. Soon, his body was pinning my own down to the sheets as we fumbled with the rest of his clothing. The raw passion left no room for nervousness or embarrassment. Despite our lack of knowhow, animalistic instincts took over. I hadn't known it was supposed to feel so deliciously delightful for his hands to roam my body, but somehow, my body knew exactly how to respond. My own hands found the path that led to the waistband of his boxers and boldly pulled them down.

His hot mouth and devilishly talented tongue had become better acquainted with my body that even I was. His palms had squeezed my thighs, and I had already known that the bruises would be present the next morning.

In the midst of our raw passion, he had breathed in my ear, asking again for reassurance and permission. “Are you sure?” His voice told me that he wasn't going to stop, despite what my answer was.

Which is exactly how I wanted him. Completely unguarded and defenseless.

“Just fuck me, Harry.” I had moaned, wrapping my legs around his waist for emphasis.

The pain was inevitable, but I barely noticed. The mental pleasure was enough to make me forget. The knowledge that Harry was now inside of me, was closer to me than either of us had ever been with another human being aroused me in a way his even his fingers hadn't—though they hadn't been far off.

The rest of the night was a blur, with small bits and pieces standing out in sharp contrast—like when he lips lunged for my throat roughly while his thrusts grew faster. Like when his eyes met mine, and the connection was too intense that I had to focus on his chest. Like when he breathed my name in my ear in a way that I had never heard him say anything before. Like the ecstasy of finishing together, then him rolling onto his back beside me, covered in a sheen of sweat. His forearm had casually slung over his eyes. His breathing had been irregular, just as mine was. The sheet was modestly pulled up to my chest, but on him, it had hung low on his hips.

“Fuck.” He had sworn lowly.

I hadn't known what to do. Lie back down? Say something? Leave?

Finally, I had opted to leave. I had opened the gateway to an outlet for him to take his frustrations out on, his needs. As cheap as it sounds, that's exactly what it was.

I had pulled my robe back on, given him one last look, and then went uninterrupted to my bedroom.

By the time I had gotten up the next morning, only slightly sore, Harry had already made breakfast. He was a better cook than I was. I quietly nibbled at eggs and toast while silence had engulfed us.

We hadn't talked about it. Round two occurred three days later while arguing about Godric's Hollow. One minute I had been stating why I had thought going there was dangerous, and then the next, his lips were urgent on mine and I had been pulled back to his bedroom again.

Still, we never talked about it, not explicitly anyway. Even to this day, we never had a long discussion about the catalyst that led to us shagging. Whoever said sex was never the answer was wrong. Being able to physically take our frustrations out on each other was a blessing.

When Ron returned, nothing changed except the discreetness of it all. Not upsetting Ron hadn't been a priority. No, it had been out of respect.

He found out, however. Harry had told me that Ron had caught him sneaking out of my bedroom in the middle of the night smelling of blissful sex, his hair untidier than usual, and he had had an impish grin on his face.

Ron hadn't given a damn. His crush on me was long gone. It was common for him to pour over Harry's map of Hogwarts and stare longingly at a dot labeled Luna Lovegood—just to ensure that he she was safe. His eyes would stray towards his sister or other good friends, but his focal point was no doubt the blonde Ravenclaw.

No, his only requests were not to shag in front of him and not “bring an innocent child into this bleeding fucked up mess of a world.”

By this time, our new hobby had become almost a nightly encounter: because we were angry, because we were happy, to celebrate an accomplishment, to deny having been put back few steps. No rhyme or reason had been put with it, other than just because why the hell not?

So now here I am, slowly trudging towards the place in the castle I had spent most of my time at Hogwarts. The library is almost unrecognizable. Books are strewn everywhere, ripped and shredded. Stone that had been reduced to flakes of dust clung to every surface. I'm too exhausted to well up the proper emotion. I just need a safe place. And I know exactly where that safe distraction is—the one way I've become customary to celebrate wins with losses, anger with happiness, love with physical pleasure.

But that outlet is gone. Why should it remain? We sometimes talked about what we would do if we ever lived to make it out of this mess, but it always involved going back to school, jobs, flats, and Quidditch. We never talked about us because we both knew there wouldn't be an us to talk about. Now that we were free with our whole lives ahead of us, our boundaries vanished. As much as I loved him and needed him, I knew he needed to chance to really live. I threw myself into this, expecting nothing in return.

And so I wouldn't hold him back. I wouldn't make a big production of it. I always knew the kisses, the sighs and moans, the touches…they all had a number; I just didn't know what it was at the time.

I wonder where to go from here. Idly, I kick a small stone. A dust cloud hangs in the air for a few seconds before it settles again. I lean down to pick up a book and try to use my sleeve to wipe the dust from it. It's a book on Charms.

With a smile to myself, I find a spot on the nearest boulder-sized piece of rock and crack open the book.

“Only Hermione Granger would find a book to read in the aftermath of Voldemort's defeat.” A voice speaks, causing me to look up. Harry is standing there, covered from head to toe in a mixture of dirt and blood.

I smile. “I need a little normalcy for a moment,” I admit, gesturing the red cover of my book.

Harry nodded. “I know exactly what you mean,“ he says, his eyes staring at me intently. I understand the double meaning of his words. The look in his emerald is one that I've seen countless times before. I know exactly what he wants. I can't help but think, `One last time…why the hell not?' while I stand up to dust myself off. I take his hand and lead him in the direction of a bathroom. However, he pulls me in another direction and our destination is soon apparent. Harry always did prefer a bed.

The portrait leading to the Gryffindor Common room was no longer intact; however, the Common Room wasn't damaged nearly as much as other parts of the Castle. We walked silently, hand in hand, towards his old dormitory. The circular room had been untouched. Harry led me into the bathroom, where he ran water for a shower. Mechanically, I shrug out of my clothes and step under the hot water—Harry quickly joins me. The water washes away the blood and dirt from the war. I'm not worried: I know soon something will push away the memories, even if just for a little while. I turn under the showerhead slowly, savoring the hot water.

The shower is too long for my impatient lust, but wasn't nearly long enough to satisfy my desire to be cleansed of this mess.

It is obvious Harry's bed hadn't been used, but we quickly remedy that. I pull him on top of me and into a heated kiss, ready to forget. Harry's hearty response shifts. His usual zeal melts away into something dare-I-say tender. I'm not used to this approach, but I don't have plans to rectify his new tactic. Instead, I slow down too. The heat becomes a slow burning need. My only conclusion is that he wants to savor this last time the same as I do. Or maybe he knows we actually have time now.

His hand tangles in my hair as his lips move to my jaw line. I hear his voice whisper my name as he his fingertips caress up my naked side. My response is a throaty moan. The burning need is more intense than it has ever been. His hands find mine and pin them on either side of my head. His intense eyes bore into my own and his kisses me fiercely for just a moment before pacing himself once again.

It's a funny thought, thinking about Harry pacing himself. I'm so used to him coming in and all but demanding exactly what he wants. Seeing this loving side of him…I cannot explain how much it turns me on.

“Harry, please,“ I beg as his tongue swirls around one of my nipples. He kisses down my stomach and thighs. I bite my lip as he hits his destination. “Oh!” I breathe, screwing my eyes shut because the pleasure is becoming too much.

His fingers replace the ministrations of his tongue as he pulls himself up to kiss me again. I grip the back of his head as I feel my orgasm building powerfully. Suddenly, Harry is behind me, kissing my shoulder and neck, one hand is caressing my breast while the other is lost in the wetness between my thighs.

“Harry!” I gasp, my arm reaching back to grab something, the back or side of his head maybe.

“You are so beautiful.” He says in my ear, his voice barely above a whisper.

I feel like I'm about to lose control. I need him badly in a way I've never needed him before.

I spin around and grab his face between my two palms. I kiss him earnestly as I climb on top of him. It takes only seconds before I finally feel him right where he belongs. I move against him, loving the sound of his small moans.

Not to be outdone, Harry flips us over so he is now hovering over me. “Eager little minx, aren't you?” He banters playfully, pulling out of me. I emit a sound that can only be compared to a growl.

Laughing, Harry powerfully thrusts deep inside of me, causing us both to gasp.

His rhythm is slower than usual. Half-way through, I realize we aren't fucking. No, he's making love to me—there is no other word to describe it. This has to be the most beautiful lovemaking in history.

The kind that can only be the result of love. Control is lost and an orgasm shatters through my trembling body.

As his thrusts speed, I wonder briefly if he loves me the way I love him.

His pants turn into groans and after he plunges ever deeper once more, he all but collapses on top of me. He manages to roll over to his back, taking me with him so I'm now cradled to his chest.

As I stare up at his eyes, his love for me comes back to mind. Does he love? And if he does, is it just when we are like this: covered in sweat, the musky smell of fresh sex in the air, and exhaustion threatening to take over? I look up at him, trying to read his expression. Smooth contentment. His eyes are closed and his face is peaceful. In my head, I can't stop myself from silently asking:

Will you still love me tomorrow?

Please review. If you are following The Potter V.S. Granger Rivalry, I have the next two chapters completely written, I am just revising them (and trying to find a good spot to split the 80+ pages into two chapter!) I should have that posted sometime within the next week, as well as the second chapter of this.

Thanks.

*~Archei~*

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And here is chapter 2. There will be one more chapter.

CHAPTER TWO: We Are Young

I know I gave it to you months ago
I know you're trying to forget
But between the drinks and subtle things
The holes in my apologies, you know
I'm trying hard to take it back
So if by the time the bar closes
And you feel like falling down
I'll carry you home

Tonight
We are young
So let's set the world on fire
We can burn brighter than the sun

“We Are Young” FUN

How many times have I been here? Most might feel ashamed, disgusted even. I can't bring myself to feel either; I never could with her. No, I'd feel disgusted if it was someone else, but never her.

How many times have I been here? Never battling myself when ever moral fiber says I should be? It's been years, and I still can't explain exactly how this sort of thing happens. How it always happens.

It started when I was seventeen in a dark tent. I was angry. She was upset. We got lost in each other, took everything out on each, in each other.

How many times have I been here? Just like this? Just a small piece of selfish heaven?

Without this, I don't think I would have survived the war.

That's not true. I would have made it. But right now, it's hard to think it would have been possible to live without all those stolen moments with her.

Now I'm twenty-one, and I'm still living for those stolen moments. They are fewer and farer between, but like gravity, they are inevitable.

The night of the final battle, we had done something we had never done before: we made love in all senses of the word. It wasn't rushed. I got to fully appreciate her for the first time. I relearned every curve of her body and every inch of her skin—as if I hadn't already known them all.

Something changed that night. Did we try to get together? Yes, we did. Several times, we tried to get together.

Why couldn't we make it work?

I still can't answer that. Every time I think about it, the reasoning gets more and more far-fetched. It's like trying to solve an easy question, but the simple answer is just out of reach and you can't fully understand why it is correct in the first place.

But we did try. No one knew of course. Ron had known about our new hobby long ago when he had caught me leaving her room one night, looking completely sexed up and satisfied. We never really talked about it, just a few dirty comments or jeers here and there. I don't think he knows we still go at it like animals though. I think he thought it was something we were just doing to pass the time.

So no one knew we were dating. Over the years we have gotten very good at hiding secrets. We've been a secret for so long, it was easy to continue that way.

We never told anyone we were dating because we didn't want to hurt everyone around us. We've seen firsthand what break-ups can do to a group. Dean Thomas, a serious boyfriend Ginny had dated after the war had become a good friend to both Ron and me. After a nasty break-up, Ginny saw any contact with him to be treacherous on our part. Lavender Brown, an ex-girlfriend of Ron's, never sees us anymore—which isn't a bad thing. The worst was when Ron and Luna Lovegood had broken up for a good six or seven months. Ginny and Hermione had refused to stop being best friends with the girl (I wouldn't have been too happy about it myself), but for a while, we didn't see her a lot because Ron was always around.

We didn't want to inflict this sort of conflict and stress on everyone else. If no one knew we were dating, no one would be forced to choose a side if we broke up: Team Harry or Team Hermione. So we hid it. And every time it ended, we coped. We didn't make it weird for anyone.

But we never lost this. Our friendship on the outside had never been stronger. Our secret passion for each other had never burned brighter.

Getting over Hermione was impossible. I loved her more than anything. I never even tried to find anyone else because I could do this for the rest of my life.

The few dates I've had have never turned into a second date. I'm pretty sure the small number of dates Hermione has had haven't either. Why fake trying to be happy with someone else, when we can really be happy—even in a twisted way like this—with each other?

Maybe, some day down the road, we'll both fill our need for each other and move on.

I doubt it.

Maybe, some day down the road, we'll both say fuck it and just be together forever.

I hope so.

And right now, while I have her up against a hole-in-the-wall bathroom stall in the men's restroom, I can't see any reason for the latter to not come true some day.

When she moans in my ear like she is doing right now, I can so easily see us together, just like this, in twenty years.

Why put a stop to utter perfection, ever?

I had missed her. It feels like it's been forever since I've been with her like this. Ron's birthday, weeks ago, if I remember correctly—and with her, I always do.

I vaguely think to myself that she might have planned tonight. She must have heard that I'd be at this pub with Ron, Luna, and Amber. Maybe she was worried.

I hope she isn't. She shouldn't be. Ever.

I try to reinforce my thoughts silently as I look intently into her blazing brown eyes.

She isn't worried. I can see her own thoughts in her eyes: I own you bitch.

`Yes,' I think back, `Yes, you do.'

Amber is just a girl from work, nothing more. I can see that she wants more, but I have no plans to jump on board. I haven't tried to lead her on; no, instead she just keeps pushing. If she's so insistent, then I don't feel so bad about letting her down. Hell, she is asking for it right? I've already tried telling her.

In her eyes, she sees this as a third date. In my eyes, I'm out having a beer with a few of my friends because Ron all but used the Imperius Curse on me.

And now how glad I am that he did. This is exactly what I needed. Hermione up against a wall.

It was a favorite way to take her of mine. I dunno why I find it so sexy—maybe because that's how we started in the first place.

I couldn't count how many times we've done this. How many times have we fucked right where we were? Restaurants? Friends' houses? Bars? Bathrooms? Shops? Cars?

You name it, I've hit it there.

That's part of the beauty of us, I think. If we need each other so badly that we were willing to go at it in the back of Flourish and Blotts, that surely shows how much we need each other in general in our lives. I can't picture my life without her. It breaks my heart for me to even try.

Hermione smiles up at me, her eyes bright from her excitement. I lean down to kiss her slowly, sensually. She expertly winds her hand up my chest to the nape of my neck. I feel goose bumps erupt on my skin from her touch, like always. “I missed you.” I whisper, my eyes closed in utter contentment.

“You saw me earlier today.” She reminds me with a grin.

“Not all of you.” I retort, wiggling my eyebrows suggestively.

“So you've missed me naked then. You really should clarify that sort of thing.” Hermione says with a laugh, mirth and sarcasm dripping from her voice.

I wink at her as I stow her knickers in my pocket for safe keeping. She rolls those beautiful eyes of her and shimmies into her jeans, commando.

“I've got to get back. The girls are surely missing me by now. They probably think I've fallen in. And you should go to. Don't want to keep precious Amber waiting now, do we?” Hermione teases me innocently, but for the first time, I can hear the slightest faltering of her confidence.

“I don't have to. I don't want to. You know that's nothing, right? I could never see her again and not care even the slightest bit.” I say slowly. “I'll Apparate home now from right here if you want me to.” Even though I know she would never ask me to do that, as she isn't the jealous type, I know every word is true.

So does she.

“You know I'm only kidding. I'm not worried.” She says, and like always, she looks completely confident in her words.

I kiss her forehead. “Do you want to spend the night? We can get out of here.” I ask her, trying to keep the pleading from my voice. “We can rent a film and get some popcorn and—”

She shushes me by putting a finger to my lips. “It's Carissa's birthday. I can't leave now. But...maybe we can meet up a little later? You'll keep your phone on?” She replies, looking completely genuine.

I nod. I know she won't call. I know she won't stay. She never does.

That always has a good chance at resulting in a relationship. Not always, not even half the time, but that's the only time the opportunity has ever presented itself. Maybe she isn't ready for another break-up.

I'm not either.

I bid her good night one last time before we both go our separate ways at opposite ends of the crowded bar.

I grab four shots and bring them to the table with me.

“There you are! We wondered where you'd gotten off to!” Luna greets me, taking my offered shot.

“Sorry. I ran into Hermione over there and we got to talking. She's here for someone's birthday.” I reply, handing a shot to Ron and Amber.

I ignore the look I get from Ron when I say this. Sometimes, I think he isn't as in the dark as he appears to be. Who knows.

“Cheers.” I toast before downing my shot. It burns my throat but for the second time that night, it is exactly what I need.

“You look happy.” Ron observes, surveying me. Now I know he knows. And he knows that I know that he knows.

I shrug. “Nice little surprise in the loo—automatic hand dryers. Wouldn't have expected such technology here.” My snide remark is cryptic enough for neither Luna nor Amber to pick up on. Ron rolls his eyes.

“Amber was just telling us about a boat her father owns. And a small cottage they have up on a lake a few hours away. She's invited up to go up there for a long weekend.” Ron tells me, but I'm barely paying attention. Like always, now that I know Hermione in the near vicinity, I find it hard to focus on much else.

“Wow, I didn't know that.” I reply as I order another round of shots. I tell the waitress to send over a round of birthday cake shots to Hermione's table and to put it on my tab.

Luna doesn't want hers, so I take two.

As the bar begins to spin around me, I can barely hear the other three talking about the boating trip.

“There's a great beach where we can swim. We've got jet skis and boogie boards and water tubes. It would be so much fun to just make a weekend out of it—like a double date weekend!” Amber gushes to Luna, who nods excitedly.

“I'm going to go to the loo.” I interrupt and before they reply, I'm already halfway across the bar, heading to visit the scene of my passionate crime. As I piss, my head—already swimming from the alcohol—shifts through a tangled web of memories with Hermione at the center.

I get like this from time to time. Usually, I can be detached, or as detached as one can be and still be in love and best friends. But tonight, it gets me to. It gets to me that she is with her friends and I'm here with Amber who isn't even supposed to be a date but she is planning boating weekends with my friends. It gets to me that I'm pissing in a stall that I just fucked Hermione in, and instead of reliving the passion, I'm losing my high and feeling depressed.

My phone beeps and I stumbled ever so slightly as I reach into my pocket for it. I have to lean against the stall to steady myself.

The text message is simple: Are you going in for round 2? I thought that was later tonight? Xoxo

My high returns instantaneously. Haha just takking a piss biut I'm willking if you are… ;) I quickly type, my fingers eager across the keyboard and creating typos. I curse under my breath but hit send anyway. She'll understand. She always does understand my drunken texts.

It's okay, you can keep your pee penis to yourself. I'll bring popcorn tonight. I know you don't have any, so don't even say you do, Liar. xoxo

I smile at her banter. i love you I respond before zipping up my jeans, sobriety suddenly taking over my body. I wash my hands then splash cool water over my face and hair. I rinse my mouth out a few times before shaking my head and a few times, trying to clear my head completely. I look up at the man facing me in the mirror. Green eyes. Messy black hair. Pale skin. My face looks tired. My eyes are bright with a new anticipation. Finally, I exit restroom, feeling completely in control. The dizziness had passed.

Soaring, I casually made my way back to my table for the night.

“When do you think you'll be free for the boat trip, Harry? We were just discussing maybe a few weeks from now if we can all get the days off—a Friday-Saturday-Sunday ordeal.” Amber asked animatedly, looking at me expectantly.

I shrugged. “I don't know if I'll be able to do it. They've got me pretty busy for the next few weeks.” I try to let her down easily, having no interest going on a trip with her.

She isn't deterred. “We'll just have to see then.”

“Maybe, but I just don't think it's going to work out. It might not be the best idea, you know?” I say, looking at her meaningfully and ignoring the kick from under the table that I know must have been from Ron. He likes boats.

Her eyes lock into mine, her face cool and confident. Her lips are pulled into a tight smile. “I know what you're doing, but I'm not going to let you. I've waited way too long for you to be scared away by your weird commitment issue. I'll wait and wait, then I'll wait some more. Why do you think I haven't pushed this to go farther yet? I've heard how difficult this is for you, and I'm okay with that. We can take this as slow as you'd like.” She told me, her voice relatively even, considering.

At first, I'm shocked by her miniature speech. I hear Ron clear his voice uncomfortably. “You don't want to get involved with me, Amber, trust me.” I tell her lightly with a smile. “I'm screwed up and twisted so many ways that you don't even want to begin to unravel these mysteries. Find yourself a nice, normal bloke.” I advise her with a genuine smile. She was a nice girl. She really did deserve someone decent.

She shook her head slowly. “I know exactly what I'm getting into. And like I said—I've put in too much work to give up. I'll wait until you're comfortable. No pressure. I know you're a great bloke. You're worth the wait. You aren't nearly as screwed up as you are trying to come off to be.” She laughs, taking a sip of her vodka and cranberry.

Seeing that she wasn't going to take the hint, I get crude with her. “Look. This is never going to happen. You. Don't. Want. Me. I am so messed up, trust me. I'm here with some friends, even a nice, great girl that any bloke would be lucky to have. What do I do? I just fucked my ex-girlfriend in the men's bathroom. And you know what? I don't care who knows because when I'm with her, I'm happy. And you know what, I haven't been happy like that for a good while now.” I say, not rude but indifferent, my tone cool. “Your birthday, in fact.” I offhandedly add to Ron, just because I like to watch him squirm. “I'm sorry, but I hope your mum washed that afghan she gave you a couple of days ago before she gave it to you.. If not, I'd advise you to.”

Luna knocked over her drink, Ron choked on his beer, and Amber's mouth dropped. She recovered quickly. “No you didn't. Stop acting like an ass.” Amber said in a steely tone.

I reach in my pocket and threw down my prize for the night as evidence. “Yes, I did. I don't want you. I don't want any other girl. The only reason I'm not with the girl I actually want…well that's all fucked up too. And frankly, none of your business,” I add, turning to look at Ron and Luna before they could say anything.

Amber stood up. “So let me get this straight. You are picking a fucking booty call over an actual mature relationship?” She asked, her voice low but dangerous all the same.

I laugh out loud at her choice of words. The demeaning term was nothing compared to what Hermione and I had, but it fit perfectly all the same. Hermione always liked to refer to our physical relationship as an outlet for each other. When we needed something, anything really, we could get it from each other. We would get together when we were angry, when we wanted to celebrate, when we needed to cry. It was so much more than a booty call—it was a safe zone for us to just go nuts and not be judged, whatever the reason be.

For all intents and purposes, we were in a relationship emotionally, socially, physically, sexually…it just wasn't official. Everything was compartmentalized rather than woven together.

And right now, that was enough. Right now, we were young and when we were together, we felt like we could bring even the world to its knees. I wouldn't be surprised if the pure passion we had for each other set the sheets on fire one night.

There was no doubt that Hermione was the one for me, and I the one for her. In my heart, I knew that someday, we would be a great little family unit with children and a dog and her greeting me at the door with a kiss when I got home from work.

But not tonight. No, tonight, we would just work on the present. And it would end, just like it always does. Then start up again. Then end. Then begin. Hermione was my drug, and I wasn't ready to go to rehab. We didn't need or apparently want a real relationship at the moment. We just needed to know that we had someone to waste sleepless nights with when it was time for the bar to close, and that was okay. Stolen moments.

“If you don't mind, I think I'll head out now.” I said, pocketing Hermione's knickers and chugging the last of my drink. I threw down a credit card. “I've got the tab. Be sure to leave a nice tip. And go ahead and get a nice hotel room for yourself and Luna tonight, mate. It's on me.” I say with a wink before I grab my jacket and head out to the cool night air.

Amber and Ron had driven tonight, so I didn't have a way home. That was fine by me. The flat Ron and I shared wasn't too far away. I walked across the street to a minimart and searched the aisles until I found what I was looking for. I grabbed my phone, took a photo for evidence, and then sent a quick picture message: Got the popcorn. See you soon.

PLEASE REVIEW!

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I did exactly what I didn't want to do with this one. What started out as 2 separate one shots fused to be a 2 shot...then I had to add a 3^rd chapter to wrap it up…and of course, I can't wrap it up in this chapter so I have to write at least 2 more chapters, 1 which is already done.

This chapter was hard to come up with a good “song” theme for, but Adele's “Someone Like You” seems to fit nicely. It was a toss-up between this one and 3 Doors Down's “Back To Me” haha.

CHAPTER 3: SOMEONE LIKE YOU

I heard that you're settled down
That you found a girl and you're married now.
I heard that your dreams came true.
Guess she gave you things I didn't give to you.

Old friend, why are you so shy?
Ain't like you to hold back or hide from the light.

“Someone Like You” ADELE

She broke his heart right there in front of everyone. He put his heart out on his sleeve, took a chance with a woman who didn't deserve what he had to offer, and she refused him.

Now she's gone.

And I'm here to pick up the pieces.

* * *

It's amazing what a pregnancy scare can do to someone. Yes, I want children someday. Yes, I'd love to have his children someday. Yes, he would love for me to have his children someday.

But how could we bring a child into this unbalance, crazy relationship we have? We can't stay together. We can't work out what we want. Our chaos works for us, but I refuse to put this sort of stress on a child.

I remember when we had talked about having a baby. We had laughed and said it would happen someday, we were sure.

I also remember the day, almost a year later, when I thought I was pregnant. I had never been so scared in my life. I had never wanted anything more and less at the same time. I knew he would have married me right then and there. He would have done the whole family thing without a second thought. It was what he wanted. He would have been happy to do it. I don't have a doubt in my mind.

The test was negative. He was heartbroken; I was relieved. It was that moment I realized we had to stop. I wanted a child and so did he. I wasn't ready and he was. I was never the type to get married young and start a family. That was why it worked so well for so many years. I had my career and was lucky to have everything anyone could want out of a relationship with someone without having the pressure of the relationship itself from everyone. “When are you getting married!?” “When are you moving in together?!” “When are you having a baby?!” I never had to worry about any of that. We could be in love and not have to worry about anyone.

When I found out I wasn't pregnant, all those questions screamed themselves at me. I'm newly twenty-three. I don't need that stress.

I knew then what I had known the night we started this mess: our days together were numbered.

Confiding in Ginny had been helpful. It had helped put things in the proper perspective. It helped me realize I had robbed him of a deserved bachelor life, even when that hadn't been her intent.

“I think it's great, you two getting married and having children. I mean…he's never had the chance to be with anyone else. If he's content with you, then why fight it? Especially with the way you love him. Don't let him get loose, Hermione.” She advised seriously, her eyes boring into my own.

`Never had the chance to be with anyone else?' I thought to myself. “What do you mean, `never had the chance to be with anyone else?'” I asked slowly, confused.

The redhead had shrugged. “You know, you two have always been together, even when you weren't together, so naturally…with your claim on him…” She trailed off before quickly adding, “But that's a good thing, Hermione. He doesn't want that kind of life, right? I mean, he hasn't been able to experience it to know for sure, but on some level, he must know it isn't for him?”

I had realized then that I had robbed him. I had let things go too far, and he never got to fight it because he didn't know he should. He was far too loyal for that. He would be there as long as I needed and wanted him—which was forever. Just as I would do the same.

Until it wasn't what was best for him. So I did what I had to do.

I broke his heart, more than anyone could, more than anyone ever had.

* * *

She said no. No to everything. No to the life I planned. No to the life I wanted. Needed. Deserved.

Part of me doesn't believe it. Part of me knows she would never do that to me.

But then she did. So now I'm here on my birthday, alone in my bedroom, crying like a fucking girl.

In my heart, I know this isn't the end. In my heart, I know things will work out.

But my brain is telling me otherwise. My brain is telling me I fucked up in the worst possible way.

I looked around the small hall they had thrown my surprise party in. Streamers and elaborate decorations hung on every surface. People fluttered around from group to group, gushing about the latest gossip. Several guests stopped me as I made my way to the bar, asking how I was and wishing me many birthdays to come. I thank them politely, gesturing for them to have their fill of both food and drink.

I caught sight of Hermione across the room, as my eyes always do search her out. She was talking to someone from work. As if she feels my gaze, she turns just a fraction to catch my eye. I smirk and give her a playful wink. I take a sip of my scotch and laugh at the small smile playing on her lips. I wonder briefly if she was thinking about my birthday present from her I had received last night…and this morning…and most likely at the end of my party—I certainly was.

The party progressed. Food, drinks, laughter. Everyone was in high spirits. I opened a few presents from a large pile sitting on a table.

Everyone cheered when Hermione levitated a magnificent cake onto an empty table. It truly did look great. I knew she had worked a better part of the day before on it, perfecting every inch.

In her neat hand, Happy Birthday Harry was written elegantly across the top in blue. A flick of her wand ignited all twenty-two candles. The lights dimmed as the familiar birthday song began:

Happy Birthday to you,

Happy Birthday to you,

Happy Birthday, dear Harry—

Happy Birthday to you!

I didn't blow out the candles right away. I think about a suitable wish. What do I want most in the world.

I don't look at my cake. No, my eyes move upward and lock into Hermione's chocolate brown ones.

“I wish for Hermione Granger to marry me.” My voice rang loud and clear in the silent room, though it was barely above a whisper.

I blew the candles out swiftly, my eyes still boring into Hermione's now widely shocked eyes.

Silence.

After what felt like an eternality, Hermione moved. She turned and rushed from the room, parting the crowd like the Red Sea.

Not what I expected.

“Hermione!” I called as I sprinted out the door after her. “Hermione, wait!”

She didn't wait. She didn't stop. But she didn't disappear either, so I took that as a good sign.

Finally, I grabbed her shoulder to spin her around.

“Hermione, what's wrong?!” I asked, exasperated.

She shook her head. “Don't do this, Harry. Please, just don't.” She begged, trying to push me away.

“Do what? Love you? Marry you? Have a normal life with you?” My questions held more anger than curiosity. “I don't want to do this anymore. I want it all, Hermione. I want you; I want everything.” I declared, daring her to object. I pulled a ring that has been burning a hole in my pocket for a year now and thrust it into her hand. I knew she wanted the same thing.

But still, she pushed me away, and like a fool, I let go.

“You don't know that, Harry.” She replied softly, her eyes wet with tears. I felt tears sting at my own eyes. “You've never known anything else—how can you possibly be so sure of me? This…it won't work anymore, Harry. Whatever this is…it has to stop. We want different things. I'm sorry.” Her voice was so soft I had to strain my ears to catch every word. Her gaze dropped to the small symbol of my love that she held between her thumb and index finger.

“Don't do this. Please.” I begged, my eyes wide and wet as I dropped to my knees and took her hands in mine. “Look, I'm sorry, okay? I shouldn't have…I mean…I won't lie. That's exactly what I want. But I can wait, Hermione. I can wait until you're ready. I need you. Please, please, don't…” Don't what? I didn't know, but whatever it was, I didn't want her to do it. “I love you.” I reminded her pathetically.

She wiped the tears from her eyes and shook her head once more. “I know, but Harry…this isn't right. it isn't right for you. I love you too—never doubt that. But…I have to let you go. That's what people do in love, right?” She asked, fresh tears spilling over. She outstretched her hand and offered the ring back to me.

I curl her palm around the ring, refusing to take it back. I get to my feet and pull her into a tight hug. “No, no they don't let go. They wait. They get married and have kids and grow old together.” I cry into her hair, tightening my hold.

She hugs me back just a fiercely, but instead of feeling the security of her arms like I always do, I feel good-bye.

“I love you.” She whispered in my ear, so low I can't be sure she said anything at all.

Then suddenly, I wasn't holding her warm body. My arms crashed to my own body, clinging around nothing but air.

I didn't think twice. I Apparated straight to her apartment, but was met with a surprise. Everything was empty. Blank walls glared at me.

I thought about calling for her, but I knew she wasn't there. No one would answer.

I don't understand what I did. I keep thinking that if I hadn't proposed, then she would still be here. But then I'm reminded of her bare apartment—it must have been like that for awhile. She was waiting for me to give her a reason to stay, and all I did was make her leave quicker.

My heart is broken. I miss her already. My heart and my brain are battling within me, but my body is too exhausted to pick a winner.

* * *

A day hasn't gone by that I haven't thought of him, of us. I miss him more than possible. My new life would be fulfilling if I felt like I actually had anything to live for. I'm not happy, but tolerant rather. I'm okay with my flat and new job. I've immersed myself back into the Muggle world. I've left behind a good job and a promising future. I took a waitressing job that was supposed to be for three months tops that somehow lasted for almost eight. Now I work at a bookshop. It isn't the best money, but it pays the bills while I take classes at a small university. For the first time in my life, I feel no pull towards my schoolwork. Instead, I feel a pull for London. I want to go home. When I think these thoughts, I have to remind myself that I am home. I made my choice, now I had to live with it. For him, I would be strong enough to do that.

“Come here, Jasper.” I coo softly, pulling my black lab puppy up on my lap, replacing my book that fell unceremoniously to the floor in Jasper's eagerness. “Hi there, honey. Did you miss your mum today? Huh? Did you little guy?” I smile at his adorable puppy face, staring at me with eyes full of unconditional love and trust.

I scratch him softly on his belly, laughing quietly at his tail flailing about this way and that.

“You are just the cutest little thing, aren't you?” I asked, dropping a kiss on the top of his head.

I look up and my eye catches a picture of my parents on an end table, an opened envelope resting beside the frame.

I sigh and lean back on the couch. I would be returning to England in just a few weeks. I had been gone for a little almost a year and a half. Harry's birthday was just a few months before.

I didn't send a card.

I haven't talked to anyone in England, save my mum and dad.

It has hurt me to not keep in contact with Ron and Luna.

But not talking to Harry has killed me. I feel dead inside.

But I am to return for Christmas. My parents had come here last year, but I promised I would come home this time. The hurt wasn't fresh—I could handle it. Besides, I would just be at my parents' house. No one would know I was there.

Jasper tugged at my sleeve, upset that I was lost in thought and not paying attention to him. “Are you excited to go to see Grandma and Grandpa, little Jasper? They're going to love you to death.” I smile as he wags his tail, delighted to have my focus on him again. I hug him tightly, “Sure you are.”

* * *

I didn't Apparate. I could have, but just didn't. Why rush?

No, I took a train. The long trip reminded me of the trips on the Hogwarts Express that stretched through most of the day. Instead of Harry and Ron to keep me company, I had Jasper today, in a small carrier.

Kings Cross Station is buzzing with people. With the holidays so near, I'm not one bit surprised—in fact, I expected it. As my eyes scan the crowd, I search for my mum and dad.

“Hermione!” A voice calls, and I finally spot the glowing face of my mother.

She has missed me dearly; I can see it on her face. A stab of shame grips my heart. I try to push it away, tuck it under the ever-growing hoard of guilt that already resides in my stomach.

I rush forward and set Jasper's carrier down to embrace my mother in a hug, then my father. Our reunion is rushed as more people spill into the lobby from various platforms. My father picks up my small bag and empty carrier as I take little Jasper in my arms. Through the jostling crowd, we make a beeline for my parents' SUV.

Being back in London is fills me with lots of different emotions. I feel nostalgic and relief bursts forth from inside my heart. I'm home. At the same time, I feel like a stranger. Small renovations in my absence makes the city appear new, yet overly familiar.

Jasper is delighted by the new company and playfully jumps into my mother's lap as we cruise home. We take turns exchanging stories about work and day to day life. My father tells me we'll be taking a trip to pick up Grandma in a few days and that she will be staying with us until the new year, as she missed her granddaughter something fierce. I bite my lip guiltily and promise to go visit her more.

For the first time in a long time, I feel like I'm taking steps in the right direction. I ponder this as I stare out at the snow from my old bedroom window. My parents are both getting ready for dinner. As a celebration for my homecoming, my dad is taking us all out to the nicest restaurant in town. As the sky darkens, I force my eyes to look as far as the darkness will allow. My pull towards London has been more specifically directed to a flat where—to the last of my knowledge—he resides. He's out there somewhere. I'm closer to him than I've been in a year and a half. I slowly begin to shrug out of my traveling clothes and into something more suitable for dinner, my every thought still bent on my old lover and missing him more than ever.

* * *

I'm spending a month at home to help my parents with Christmas preparations. I've stashed away a small fortune to go Boxing Day shopping with my mum and grandmother if she's up to it. I will be returning “home” soon after New Years—too soon in my opinion. I've only been here a few days and already I dread returning to my exile.

I think about this depressing piece of news as I walk on the sidewalk between various shops. I live in a very small town and didn't start my Christmas shopping yet. I figured I'd wait until I was hom—here, where I'd have a better selection. A pair of tear drop earrings with a matching necklace for mum. A few new golf clubs for my father's set. A fancy coat for my dear sweet grandmother to keep the small woman warm. I had to dip into my Boxing Day stash, but I don't really care. All I'm really after is a new television and a list of DVDs anyway, perhaps a few small cheap appliances. It's funny how much money you can save when you have no one to do anything with, even with a crappy job.

A familiar voice calls my name and stirs me from my thoughts.

“Hermione! Is that you!?”

I turn to see none other than Ginny Weasley standing a store away from me, jaw to the ground.

My first reaction is to run, but that only lasts a second. I break into a smile and rush towards the girl. We embrace in a quick hug.

“I didn't know you moved back to town!” Her shrill voice gushed happily.

“I'm just here for holiday. I'll be going back to Seaham after the new year.” I told her with a tight smile.

“Seaham? Where's there” Ginny asked with a curious expression.

Already feeling like I gave away too much, I try to be vague. “Um, it's north. Nothing special really. Too much water. Compared to London, it's just a blink and you'll miss it.” I exaggerate.

Ginny nods appropriately, not asking for more specifics. “So how have you been?”

I shrug. “I'm okay. I'm going to school for general studies.”

We talk for a few more minutes about useless information: my studies, her job, London, Christmas.

“How's Ron?” I manage to asked, keeping my voice level.

“Engaged, believe it or not!” She gushes. “He and Luna will be married next Spring.”

Awkward silence.

“How's…” My voice trails off.

Ginny suddenly grows uncomfortable and casts a look behind her. “He's doing well. It took him some time but…he's moved on. He's starting a family. He's actually over at a shop picking up a few things for little Jake right now.” She says, her voice a mixture between guilt and smugness.

As her words pierce through my ears, I notice how she oh-so-slightly caresses her stomach, which looks flat in her coat. How far along could she be?

I meet her eyes and understand. He moved on. He moved on to Ginny. I had always had an inkling about them, but Harry had left no room for doubt concerning his feelings for her—a little sister, never anything more.

But she would be familiar to him. Just as I was. With me out of the picture, she would be the next best choice—perhaps the better choice in the end. She was normal. I had serious issues.

My eyes automatically shift to her left hand, and under the lavender gloves she was wearing, I would bet my wand a gold band laced delicately around a very special finger.

His ring.

Something we both had.

I can't bring myself to be angry with her. I refused him a long time ago. This is what I wanted, even if it was with a close girlfriend of mine.

“He's just over there if you want to say hi.” Her voice makes me look up. How close was he? My heart rate involuntarily speeds up. At first I can't comprehend her words, and then slowly, I focus on each one.

“Maybe next time.” I reply numbly, feeling dizzy. “I've got to go pick up my grandmother.”

Ginny nods, hearing the words I can't say. “Will you be returning again soon?” She asks, almost accusingly. I don't blame her. She doesn't want me to mess things up for her.

I shake my head. “No. I won't be back for a long time. I should go.”

“Good-bye.” Ginny says, giving me a stiff hug. “This is good for him.” She says slowly, weighing each word carefully, as if she was afraid of me hexing her or something.

I could.

But I don't. Instead, I smile tightly, nod in what I hope looks like understanding though I don't understand a whole lot at the moment, and turn my heel, each step putting more distance between me and where I want to be.

* * *

I don't leave the house much for the next few weeks. I've gone to a local grocery store a few times. We went to see various displays of Christmas lights. Other than that, I've stayed home and help up the Christmas tree with my mother, decorate the inside and outside of the house with lights with my father, baked cookies with my grandmother, built gingerbread houses and snowmen with my little cousins, and genuinely enjoyed my family. I've tried not to think about him doing the same with his new family.

I wasn't going to let Ginny's news ruin my Christmas with my family. I owed them. I would make it perfect.

But I can still think of him. As his ex-girlfriend, I'm allowed to relive any and every memory I can think of, even the dirty ones.

I have half a mind to drive by, just to see if he's outside. Maybe see if his car is there.

But I won't.

I can't mess up his life like that.

I refuse.

At least I'll try.

I'm no home wrecker.

But then again, I never thought I'd be a fuck mate either.

A big part of me wants me to fail.

Part of me knows I will.

I hate to turn up out of the blue uninvited
But I couldn't stay away, I couldn't fight it.
I had hoped you'd see my face and that you'd be reminded
That for me it isn't over.

Never mind, I'll find someone like you
I wish nothing but the best for you too
Don't forget me, I beg
I remember you said,
"Sometimes it lasts in love but sometimes it hurts instead,
Sometimes it lasts in love but sometimes it hurts instead, "
Yeah

“Someone Like You” ADELE

The next chapter will be out in a few days, like I said, I already have it done. Also, I've just updated Potter Vs. Granger Rivalry for those of you who follow that one. I was surprised that a few of my reviewers for that one mentioned me needing to really update Outlet…haha, I love you guys. You're all so nice!

Except you mean ones…you aren't nice…but I still like you…a little.

Well, please review!!!!!!!!

*~Archie~*

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Wow. What reviews. I think you guys might try to kill me. However, seeing as how you guys are all so awesome, I'm posting today instead of tomorrow—and going to work so leave me a bunch of kickass reviews to come home to after a crappy night at work! Much love!

Dedicated to: Kasmira36—for being so cool, lol!

CHAPTER FOUR: YOU DON'T KNOW HER LIKE I DO

Hey old friend, thanks for callin'
It's good to know somebody cares
Yeah she's gone, but I don't feel like talkin'
It might be just too much to bear
To hear somebody say it stops hurting
Or to hear somebody say she ain't worth it

'Cause you don't know her like I do
You'll never understand
You don't know we've been through
That girl's my best friend
And there's no way you're gonna help me
She's the only one who can
No, you don't know how much I've got to lose
You don't know her like I do

“You Don't Know Her Like I Do” BRANTLEY GILBERT

“Hot chocolate?” Ginny asks me as she comes outside. She finds me in the snow-covered garden, sitting on a bench.

I smile my thanks and take the steaming cup of cocoa.

“My mum makes the best.” She says with a grin and I'm inclined to agree. Mrs. Weasley makes the best of a lot of things.

She takes a seat next to me on the bench.

“A knut for your thoughts?” She teases.

I shake my head. “Nothing really. Just thinking about Christmas.” I say, which was true. I still needed to buy a few more presents before the big day.

“That's cool. Get me anything special?” She asks slyly.

I laugh. “Of course, little sister. You know I'm good for the best presents.”

Her smile falters jus the slightest bit at my words. I pretend not to notice. I don't know what that's about.

Then she asks something that makes me choke on my hot chocolate.

“What did Hermione do to make her out of the friend zone?”

“What?” I ask, taken by surprise.

Ginny shrugs. “Surely you didn't always think of her like that. At some point, she had to be `one of the boys' or `like a sister' or something. Something that made her off limits. How did that change?”

I'm confused by her motive, but give her a vague answer, “I dunno. She was never off limits, I suppose. She was always…there, you know? Why?”

Ginny suddenly giggles and looks up.

Mistletoe.

I laugh. “Didn't know that was there.”

Ginny smiles. “Well?” She says expectantly.

I lean forward to kiss her on the cheek, but she tries to turn her head and I stop, just inches from her mouth. I swiftly pull away.

“Ginny…” I trail off, knowing suddenly why she asked that.

“If you gave her a chance, you should give me one too. I won't run away.” Her bright brown eyes blazing.

I stand up and take a few steps away to give myself some room. “I'm sorry. I just don't feel that way about you.” I try to let her down gently.

She generally isn't an emotional girl, but angry tears spring to her eyes. “What is it? What is so wrong with me? Why is she so much better than I am!?” Her voice rises with each question.

Guilt forms in the pit of my stomach. Where had this come from? Had she been pinning all this time?

“Look, Ginny, you're a great girl. I'm sorry. It's just you're like a—”

“Don't you dare fucking say sister, Harry.” She interrupts me before I can finish. Her voice is low, controlled. “I am not your sister. I am exactly the kind of person you should be with. Hermione isn't. She left you. She doesn't love you.”

Anger quickly replaces the guilt. “Just stop, Ginny. I'm sorry. It's always been Hermione…even when it wasn't. So please, just stop.” I say, a warning in my voice.

“What? It's the truth! She didn't want a future with you. You were just a toy for her to play with when she wanted some. I would be there for you. I know how great you are. And Hermione?! Hell, she just fucking leaves you heartbroken and runs off to Seaham to move on, not giving a damn about what state she left you in!” Ginny was almost shouting now.

“Seaham?!” I ignore everything she's said because even though those thoughts turned in my head a few times, I knew they were a lie. Hermione loved me more than anything. She proved that day in, day out. If anything, I wasn't deserving of her. I could live with that. And I would spend every day of my life trying to better myself, to be good enough for her.

I turn and start to sprint from the Weasley property, into the small woods where I Disapparate to my flat.

Seaham. I get on my laptop and type it into the Google search engine.

About five hours north.

I look at my watch and see that it is already eleven.

What was I going to do?

I force my mind to slow down a minute. I needed to think.

When Hermione left, my first reaction was to hunt her down. I'm an Auror—a damn good one at that. I did this sort of thing for a living. Finding Hermione would almost be too easy.

But I didn't. I would wait. If she needed time, I would give it to her. But all of a sudden knowing exactly where she was…the temptation was almost too much.

Ginny knew where Hermione lived she must still talk to people in London. Not Ron—he would have said something. But why Ginny? And what does Ginny know about her moving on?

A soft howling broke my concentration. Jake. He probably needed taken out. I mechanically go to the small laundry room and let Jake out of his cage. He barks quietly and I bend down to pick him up.

“Hey boy. Wanna go outside?” I ask, grabbing his leash.

We walk around slowly in the snow as I wait for my puppy to go to the bathroom. All the while, my mind starts to buzz again.

Should I go? How long would it take me to find her? Would she want to see me? What if she doesn't?

I should go, I think. Maybe I shouldn't, but I want to. If she doesn't want to see me, then that's fine. Maybe. I could Apparate. I need time to think. I could deal with this in the morning. The snow is coming down pretty hard.

It's late. I should go to bed.

So why do I pull my keys from my pocket and head to my SUV?

I put Jake in the front seat and toss his leash in the back. I hit a fuel station; fill up with gas and snacks, then hit the snow-covered road. I have to put it in four-wheel drive because the vehicle is sliding a bit, but once I do, everything is fine.

Maybe.

The road is dark. Jack is asleep. My mind is elsewhere. I'm playing out every possible scenario in my head. Wrong town. She wants to see me. She doesn't want to see me. She calls the cops. She disappears again. I follow her. I don't follow her. She's with someone.

I have to pull over to throw up.

The GPS on my phone tells me about five hours. It takes closer to six with the road conditions. Finally, I pull into the small, sleepy snow-covered town of Seaham. Where to begin?

I check my watch. About five-thirty in the morning. I pull out my wand and use different spells that detect magic. I drive around and wait for a small blimp on my radar.

Magic is a unique thing. Unique to people when you know what to look for. Recognizing Hermione's magic is almost second-nature to me after all these years. So I scan, slowly, looking for anything. I get feeble traces here and there but it isn't until I hit Main Street that I get something concrete. My hearts starts to pound. There is no doubt that Hermione hasn't been here.

I follow the traces to a small shop. Of course. I step out into the cold and easy unlock the door with a simple charm. Rows and rows of books. I can barely see but I don't dare use my wand for light. Don't want to get caught.

I get confused when the traces of her magic lead me behind the counter and into a small stockroom. Why would she be back here?

This isn't a place of leisure, this is a place of employment.

Could I get that lucky? Breaking into the main office and finding a file with her name and address says I can.

I return to my car and fire it back up.

She lives in a small duplex. Her car is out front. My heart begins to hammer again. As I walk up the small walkway, uncertainty overtakes me. What if?

Damn what if. I check for wards and of course there are plenty. I begin to slowly get past them when I hear a voice from the left start yelling at me. “Who are you!?”

I look over and an elderly lady in a fluffy yellow bathrobe and pink curlers in her hair standing on her porch, giving me a reproachful look.

“Um, I'm Harry. Just here to see my friend.” I say. Neighborhood watch? Really?

She scrutinizes me carefully. “You're here to see Hermione?”

I nod. “Yeah, I'm a friend from school, back when she used to live in London.”

She tries to measure me as I all but roll my eyes at her. If my heart wasn't in my throat, I might have laughed.

“Well, she isn't here. If you were such a good friend of hers, you would have known that she went home for Christmas.” The old lady spat indignantly.

The news floors me. “She's back in London?” I repeat, taking a step towards the woman, away from Hermione's house.

“She left a few weeks ago and won't be back until after New Years'. And I'm keeping watch on her house.” She added with a hint of warning.

I'm stunned. Hermione is home? Was she planning on seeing me? How many times have I missed her coming back to London?

“Does…does she go back often?” I ask, trying to sound casual and not like my heart is breaking all over again.

The woman looks at me with curious eyes before she finally decides she can trust me. “No. This is the first time she's gone back. Such a sweet girl. Helps me with my gardening and shopping. Always so lonely.” She reflects sadly. “You're the first visitor I've ever seen.”

Still breaking, now for her loneliness.

“She's a special girl.” I repeat. “The best there is.”

I run a hand through my hair. “I guess I'll just drive back to London then.” I say, at a loss. This wasn't a scenario I imagined.

“An awful long way to drive at three in the morning for a causal call.” The woman stated evenly.

I give her a wistful smile. “Like I said, she's a special girl.”

The trip home is a long one. I'm tired. I'm hungry. Jake is getting restless. I'm getting restless.

Hermione had been in town for a few weeks and hasn't called on me.

Was she planning to at all?

I get back to London around noon. What a wasted trip. I consider driving to her parents' place but go home instead. I crash on the bed as soon as I get inside feeling angry, hurt, and relief.

* * *

I wake up around eight, take a piss, let out Jake, drink orange juice from the jug, then go right back to bed.

I don't stir again until seven in the morning. I call Ron and tell him to meet me at a small coffee shop between my flat and the one he and Luna now share.

I let Jake out one last time before I head out.

I'm early. I order us both breakfast and wait.

Ron looks like the walking dead.

He yawns and takes a large gulp of his coffee. “This couldn't wait `til later, mate? Gotta be at the arsecrack of dawn, eh?”

I don't beat it around the bush. “I've found Hermione.”

He stops mid-yawn. “Blimey. I'm gonna need another cup of coffee for this.” He pours a fair amount of sugar in his coffee, then adds a big measure of cream.

I wait for him to eat some breakfast and wake up. I'm already done with my muffin—I can barely eat, my stomach is in knots.

“So, where is she?” He finally asks slowly.

“Seaham. It's about five hours north.” I launch into the tale of his sister getting mad at me and accidentally letting it slip, of me driving there, the mental old bat that lives next door, then coming back.

“Bloody hell. What are you going to do?” He asks after a few minutes of silence.

“What should I do?” I fire right back. I'm going to Ron Weasley for advice. Someone kill me now.

“Well, it's Christmas Eve, so your window is closing. If you show up in Seaham again, you're going to look like a damn stalker. You could show up and ruin her Christmas. You could show and make her Christmas. Mate…I dunno.” Ron said, looking lost.

I consider asking Luna, but I don't think that will be much help either.

“You've been fucked over countless times…” Ron says slowly, “I mean, all your life. And Hermione…she's what you want. I don't think it's too much to ask for. The worst that can happen is she can shut you down. But mate…if what you want is out there, then what's stopping you from getting it for once? If she's worth it…then it can't be wrong, can it?”

I nod. It couldn't be that easy, could it? No. It never is. We chat idly about Christmas at his mum's the next day and what I'm going to do next. By the time we leave the coffee shop, I'm no where closer to a decision than when I first walked in.

In the mean time, I finish up my Christmas shopping. I pick up a few things for the Dursleys, even though I hate them. Because I don't hate them. I wish I could but the bottom line is, even though they treated me like shit, they took me in. Even though they raised me in the worst way, they raised me. They let me come back, even after I blew up Marge and blew up their fireplace and got their son attacked.

I wrap my presents and put them under my tree. With everything that was going on, it just didn't feel like Christmas Eve.

Then again, it didn't last year with Hermione's departure still so fresh. She's had me so crazed it should be illegal.

The more I think about her leaving me, the more angry I get.

But I want to talk to her.

I want to shout at her.

I want to tell her how much she hurt me.

I want to apologize for it hurting her.

“Fuck.” I swear lowly in the mirror, appraise my sickly appearance.

I need some air.

I grab my iPod and a hoodie, and then tear out the door, already sprinting.

* * *

Mum sent me out to get a few things for tomorrow's dinner.

There are several marts to choose from close to my parents' house, so why am I all the way over here?

Close to someone else's house?

Harry's flat, just blocks ahead.

I don't know what I'm doing.

I know exactly what I'm doing.

I slow down as I draw nearer.

His SUV is parked out front.

I sit in the car, heart hammering, for several minutes before I get out and walk towards the building's entrance. How many times have I gone up these stairs?

Second floor.

Down the hall.

I should leave.

But instead, I take a few more steps towards his door.

He's started a family. I don't know what I'm expecting.

He started the wrong family. I'm expecting him to choose me.

He will.

Do I want him to choose at all?

I don't know.

Right now, I just want to see his face, see that he is indeed happy.

Then I can let go.

Or cling on.

I just want to see.

And I hate myself for knocking.

Someone stirs on the other side.

I recognize how much of a mistake this is as soon as I hear the movement.

So why, instead of running, am I here, waiting with bated breath?

I can't forget, I'm drowning in these memories
It fills my soul with all the little things
And I can't cope, it's like a death inside the family
It's like she stole my way to breathe
So don't try to tell me I'll stop hurting
And don't try to tell me she ain't worth it

Cause you don't know her like I do
You'll never understand
You don't know we've been through
That girl's my best friend
And there's no way you're gonna help me
She's the only one who can
No, you don't know how much I've got to lose
You don't know her like I do

“You Don't Know Her Like I Do” BRANTLEY GILBERT

Well, what did you guys think!? Of course he wasn't with Ginny. Psh, like I would write that.

Haha. I'll have the next chapter out soon!

REVIEW!

*~Archie~*

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Hi all! Here is the next chapter, I hope you like it. Thanks for all the awesome reviews, and thanks for the song suggestion Quillbee05!

CHAPTER FIVE: COME ON GET HIGHER

I miss the sound of your voice
And I miss the rush of your skin
And I miss the still of the silence
As you breathe out and I breathe in

If I could walk on water
If I could tell you what's next
I'd make you believe
I'd make you forget

“Come On Get Higher” MATT NATHANSON

I wait.

And wait.

A muffled cry sounds through the door from somewhere in Harry's flat.

I still. What was that?

My hand shakes as I raise it to knock again, but I can't bring myself to make contact with the door.

The full weight of what I'm destroying crashes down.

What in the hell am I doing? I left him. I can't blame him for moving on. I have no right to waltz in here and change anything. I don't even know if I want to.

My legs had turned to jelly at some point without my knowledge. Jelly or lead, I'm not sure. My legs felt heavy, yet unstable.

I'm not sure how I ever make it down the flight of stairs, or how I all by run to my car once I got outside.

Somehow I do though, and once I'm in the safe haven of my parents' SUV, I fire it up, put it in DRIVE, and take off without a second look at his building.

What was I thinking? I can't do this to him, to her. I can't do this to myself.

I need to go home. Seaham has never felt like home before, but right now, that's exactly where I want to be. I have half a mind to ditch the car and Apparate this second.

But I don't. I go back to my side of town—my parents' side of town—and stop by a small market. I get the things my mom needs, mind and fingers both numb, then go back to the house. Not my house. The house.

Because I don't belong here anymore.

And after the New Year, I'm not sure if I'll ever return.

* * *

I run until I can't run anymore. Then I jog. Then I run again. Soaked in sweat despite the chilly air, my feet pound the slushy sidewalks leading back to my flat with the streetlights as my guidance. Loud, angry music blares in my ears as my blood pumps rapidly through my veins.

I don't think. I can't. I focus on my footing, on the deafening noise coming from my ear buds.

It's so much better than way. Not feeling. Not caring. Not worrying about anything.

Like crazy ex-girlfriends who leave you in the dust.

Like crazy nights filled with so much passion it's almost too much to take.

Like drunken talks about future plans that may or may not ever come to fruition because the girl of your dreams has commitment issues.

Or issues in general.

Because she's nuts.

Mental for ever leaving me.

Mental for coming back.

Mental for not staying.

Mental for not calling on me, even if just to see how I'm doing—see if I'm still alive.

Maybe not mental at all.

Maybe she's just a bitch.

For letting me have so much, then taking it away.

I stop at my flat, a stitch in my side and my breathing uneven.

I'm angry.

I'm bitter.

I don't really think these things about her.

Or maybe on some level I guess I do, but I don't mean it…much. Because I love her. She had her reasons. I know. I know . I know.

Right now, I just don't want to know. I want to be furious.

Being furious might stop me from going over to her parents' and begging her to come back.

Being furious might keep me home; I won't ruin my chance with her. She will come home, I know it.

Being furious might also make me go over there and shout at her for causing me so much pain.

My temper is going to ruin my life. I can't let it. I need to straightjacket myself in my room.

I opt for Firewhiskey instead.

I'm going to regret it, I know. I'm not one to do this, but I can't help it.

I'm running out of time. My mind is already building arguments for a shouting match.

I chug from the bottle. A searing burn ignites my throat but I just close my eyes to the pain and drown myself in the bottle.

I drop the bottle and it shatters. I grab the sink to stabilize myself as the effects are almost instantaneous. I'm going to get sick. My stomach contracts as I lean over the sink, but I will for the contents to stay down.

After a few long seconds, I think I have a hold on it.

I make it to my bed in the dark and drop, ready to succumb to the inevitable blackout I just created for myself.

Safe.

For me.

For her.

For us.

* * *

Cold water.

I jump and in the middle of rolling on my bed I crash to the hardwood floor.

I look up to see Ron, stone-faced, wand in one hand and a repaired Firewhiskey bottle in the other.

Bright sunlight is pouring in through my curtains. I look at the clock and see it is late in the morning, almost noon.

“Fuck.” I missed Molly's big Christmas breakfast.

“Hey mate.” I croak, my eyes still trying to adjust to the onslaught of light.

“Happy Christmas,” is Ron's short response, his eyes glaring daggers.

I nod, unable to meet his eyes.

“Jake pissed on the floor. Perhaps you should take him out next time before you go binge drinking—you know, think of others beside yourself.”

He means his family, I know. I deserve that.

I pick myself up and go to the bathroom, opting not to respond. My head pounds as I piss a waterfall.

I straighten my glasses in the mirror and try not to notice the circles under my eyes or how bloodshot they look.

I take a five minute shower to make myself more presentable though I cross my fingers that Ron is gone.

My room is empty. I throw on boxers and pajama pants and head to the kitchen.

Ron is in there with Jake, patting him as he diminishes a large bowl of food hungrily.

Guilt for neglecting my little buddy compounds with the guilt from missing Christmas breakfast—something Molly looks forward to every year. “I just love all my children here on Christmas morning!” She always says through teary eyes.

“Hey.” I say awkwardly.

Ron merely nods and points to a cup on the counter. A Hangover Potion, no doubt.

I gulp it down greedily, willing for my discomfort to go away.

“Thanks.” I mutter, opening the refrigerator.

Nods again. Mute.

“Look, I'm sorry mate, okay?” I finally say, ready for the silent treatment to end.

Ron stands and finally looks me fully in the eyes.

“I fucked up. I'll make it up to your mum. I'm sorry.” I repeat, genuine as can be. I will.

In an even voice, Ron replies quietly, “I understand what you're going through. But don't turn your back on people who have never done anything but love you. I covered for you this morning, even though I could tell you ruined my mum's Christmas. She's isn't your mother, I get it. You don't want to be with my sister, I get it. We aren't your brothers, I get it. But don't turn your back on us. Especially for someone who left.” His voice was low, dangerous.

I don't have a response. Now it is my turn to just nod.

I feel like shit and no Hangover Potion can fix that.

I'm not going to let her ruin the day like she's ruined so many others.

First, I give Jake his Christmas presents: a large bone, a new bed, some fresh toys, a big bag of treats, a new collar and matching leash, and finally, two new porcelain food and water bowls customized with JAKE'S FOOD and JAKE'S WATER on them.

I get dressed while he's chewing on his new bone in a pair of dark jeans and a white button down then a tan long sleeved sweater over top. I tuck my tie under the sweater so it the top of it is barely visible. Casually dressed up. Molly will love it.

I take all my presents and Jake out to the car. The Dursley's first—it will be a short visit.

And it is. They expect and don't expect me at the same time. I give them each presents: a bracelet for my aunt, new cigars and accessories for the humidor I got my uncle for his birthday, a speed bag for Dudley, and for his fiancée, the generic gift of a set of shampoos and lotions and perfumes from a shop at the mall.

They all chipped in and got me a nice watch. I actually like it a lot, but I know if I replace the one Molly and Arthur got me for my seventeenth birthday, especially today, it might break Molly's heart.

Special occasions watch. I like my old one more anyway.

I thank them. Drink a glass of wine and have some of Aunt Petunia's Christmas pudding.

I drive to a parking lot and Apparate to Godric's Hollow next.

A Christmas wreath for my parents, as well as a long winded speech of what do to about my life.

“You never gave up on Mum, did you? And look where it got you—even if it wasn't long enough, I'm sure they were the happiest years of your life.” I whisper quietly to the headstone. Tears leak down my cheeks.

I miss them.

I put a wreath on Sirius's headstone as well, which I bought and put with my parents. I couldn't bear there not being a spot to remember him. He was my dad's best friend, so it seemed fitting for Sirius to have a spot beside him. Brothers. Very much like Ron and myself. And Hermione is my Lily.

I spend a few more minutes telling them about how proud I am of them, and how I hope I can make them proud of me.

I leave before I tear up again.

Remus and Tonks with little Teddy are next. I drop in for just a moment to give them their gifts: a scrapbook album of different pictures I'd found in Sirius's room of the four of them at Hogwarts for Remus, some wacky joke shop gifts for Tonks, and a little broomstick for Teddy, who needed to start practicing for Hogwarts in just a few short years.

I sent Hagrid his gift, a book about dragons.

By the time I made it to the Burrow, it was almost four.

Everyone was still there. Molly hugs me tightly, but I can feel that she is giving me a little bit of the cold shoulder. A gift certificate to a new magical spa in Diagon Alley and necklace hleps matters.

To apologize for missing breakfast, I insist on making Christmas dinner for everyone. I unload ingredients I was able to purchase from what seemed to be the only store open on Christmas as Ron gives me a hand in handing out the rest of my presents: a new broom servicing kit for Ron, earrings for Ginny, new fancy robes for the twins, a Muggle fan and watch for Arthur, funny looking earrings for Luna, miscellaneous gifts for the rest of the Weasleys and lots of joke shop merchandise for all the children that I look at as nieces and nephews.

Ashamed to admit why I missed this morning, I told Molly I was feeling under the weather.

By the end of the evening, I felt better than I had in a long time. Cheer and Christmas spirit had everyone laughing and having a good time.

Ron corners me before I'm able to leave.

“So what was with this morning?” he asks, though I'm sure he knows the answer.

“I didn't want to do something stupid, so I took myself out of the game.” I vaguely say with a shrug.

Ron understands, but doesn't at the same time. And that's okay.

I have one more gift to deliver before the night is over. Feeling high from all the happiness, I feel like I actually can do it.

I sing Christmas carols to Jake while I drive—I don't let myself talk myself out of it.

It's late in the evening when I pull up in front of her parents' house on the opposite side of the street.

I turn off my car and watch. The windows are bright with light.

I let memories flood my mind, to give me the courage to knock on the door.

Hermione laughing.

Hermione crying.

Touching her.

Breathing her in.

Her touching me.

Kissing me.

Pulling me closer.

Hermione pulling away and disappearing.

My eyes snap open.

I can't go through that again. Fear of rejection turns my car back on and has me drive away.

I miss the sound of your voice
Loudest thing in my head
And I ache to remember
All the violent, sweet
Perfect words that you said

If I could walk on water
If I could tell you what's next
I'd make you believe
I'd make you forget

So come on, get higher, loosen my lips
Faith and desire and the swing of your hips
Just pull me down hard
And drown me in love

I miss the pull of your heart
I taste the sparks on your tongue
I see angels and devils
And God, when you come on
Hold on, hold on, hold on, hold on

“Come On Get Higher” MATT NATHANSON

I realize not a whole lot happens in this chapter, but it's more Harry trying to get back in the groove of life, and try as he might, he can't escape her. Next chapter out soon!

Don't forget to review!

Thanks, see you next time!

*~Archie~*

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Hello everyone. Here is the next chapter—enjoy! I know it's short, but the next chapter will be out soon!!!!

CHAPTER SIX: Next Go Round

I'm loving what you wanna wear,
I wonder what's up under there?
Wonder if I'll ever have it under my tongue?
I'd love to try to set you free,
All of you all over me.
Love hearin' the sound you make the second you're done.

S is for the simple need.
E is for the ecstasy.
X is just to mark the spot,
Because that's the one you really want.

“S.E.X.” NICKELBACK

“Whoa Hermione, you certainly are putting that away.” My mother warns as I pour myself a third glass of wine. My cheeks are hot and a warmth has spread through my arms and legs.

I smile, despite mentally agreeing, “Mum, please. I'm fine. I just happen to like this one.” I laugh. Or maybe I giggle.

Whatever I do, it makes my mum laugh. “Just teasing you, dear. Nothing wrong with winding down every now and then.”

I take a sip of the red wine, enjoying the flavor on my tongue, which is starting to feel slightly heavy.

“I am feeling a little warm though. I think I'm going to step outside.” I say, the heat getting me to all of a sudden.

“Do you want me to join you? I was just going to go to bed but I can sit outside with you for a bit.” She says and reaches for a dressing gown.

I shake my head. “No, go to bed. I'll be fine. I'm getting ready to lay down myself, just a quick puff of fresh air.” I tell her. She looks so tired.

I give her a hug and a kiss good night, then pull on my jacket and go outside. The night is dark. Street lights reflect on the mounds of snow.

I take another drink of my wine as I pull my coat tighter around me. I gaze down the street, nostalgia setting in.

I'm going to be going home soon. Too soon. Not soon enough. I don't want to leave. I haven't realized just how much I missed my family until I came here and got to spend time with them.

My mum is sad to see me go—I can tell. Every time I mention packing, she lures me off to do something else.

I feel bad. Christmas was such a great time; I hate to disappoint my parents like this. I think a part of them was hoping I'd stay.

I wish I could. Maybe soon, I can come back. Maybe for a visit—a short one. Or I could get them a few train tickets to come see me. That is probably the best idea.

I drain the last of my glass, feeling woozy. I need to stop feeling sorry for myself. I lift my glass to my lips, and then remember it is empty.

Shame creeps in my stomach. I want to forget what a disappointment I am. I'm leaving my family because of some stupid guy.

Who isn't a stupid guy at all.

He's my best friend.

The love of my life.

A whole new set of emotions tidal waves over me. I walk back to the kitchen and consider filling my glass again. But tonight, wine isn't strong enough. If I'm going to throw a pity party, I may as well do it right.

I grab my parents' keys, despite the voice screaming in my mind that I am acting completely stupid. I don't realize how much my night is about to spiral out of control. Even if I had known, I don't think I would have cared.

My drive to the liquor store is quiet. I pay extra attention to the road. Driving under the influence…I need to be shot.

If the woman at the liquor store notices my small buzz, she doesn't say anything. I pick a random bottle and throw down the cash.

“Keep the change.” I say, already turning around to walk out the door.

* * *

If anyone saw me now, I'd be embarrassed.

This is not Hermione Granger.

Head Girl upon my return to Hogwarts.

Top of the class, every year.

I'm smart. I don't do stupid things.

It's funny where a bottle of wine can lead you.

I don't know how I got to this unhappy place I'm at. I made choices. I'll live with them. I can do that. I'm strong enough to.

So why am I sitting outside a liquor store in my parents' SUV, a bottle—I couldn't even tell you exactly what it is—is sitting in my lap. Driving drunk. How stupid.

Buzzed.

Tipsy.

No, drunk.

Definitely drunk.

Nothing good can come of this.

I snort at that thought, remembering thinking the same thing when Ron left us so many years ago—my first night with Harry. Perhaps no real good came from that either.

But definitely no good can come of this.

To top it all off, I want sex. Drinking makes me randy. Practically being a nun for a year and a half doesn't help matters.

I don't care what it is. I need someone to make me forget, to help me heal. I need someone to me, like I was to him.

I start to cry in spite of myself. Alcohol also makes me emotional.

I take another gulp, shaming myself further. Whatever it is, it burns my throat. I choke.

I put the car in DRIVE and slowly ease into a parking lot. Safe.

There's a bar around the corner—one I know only too well. I carefully get out of the car, lock up, and try to not stumble my way to the corner. A few blocks—farther than I realized. I toss my bottle into a rubbish bin as I pass one. Whatever it was, it was terrible—but effective.

Finally, I find my destination. Once I reach the doors, I can't help but giggle. Hermione Granger—at a bar, looking for some ass. And drunk.

I'm sure I'd make my parents proud.

But tonight isn't about pride. It isn't about disappointment. It isn't about losses or the future of even tomorrow.

It's about forgetting.

It's about an outlet.

It's all about me.

The bar is dark—darker than I remember. Perhaps it's just my faltering eyesight.

I go to the bar, order a shot of something strong.

My throat is on fire again.

I turn to survey my prey. Young, fit, an animal. My mind is fuzzy. My decisions are no doubt rash right now, but I don't have the presence of mind to distinguish right and wrong. All my principles have sailed out the proverbial window.

I gaze around the room until finally, as my eyes cross the path leading from the loo, I stop.

He's perfect.

He's looking straight at me.

Surprised, but not nearly surprised enough.

Confident, I strut over to him—anticipation takes over. Heat floods my body. Glassy-eyed, I measure his expression—shock. Once I reach him, I grab him by the back of the head none-too-gently and crash his lips to my own.

No fight.

I just hope he can keep up because I'm ready to explode.

I wanna do it till the sun comes up
Till we're both so good and sweaty we can't stand up
I wanna do it till we're both about to drop
As long as we're caught in together we're never gonna stop.

I wanna go until the neighbors all complain
Cause they heard somebody screaming and they think we're both in pain
I wanna go so long your parents think you died
There gonna call the cops the CIA and then the FBI

Yeah, we're gonna love it when the lights go down
Hold on here we go
Yeah, we're gonna go until our legs give out
Round and round we go

“Next Go Round” NICKELBACK

Well, what do you think?! I hope you guys liked it….especially enough to review! Haha. Sorry it's so short, I just didn't really have anything else to put with it. I could have added pages of pointless whining angst, but figured it was exactly that—pointless. Haha. For those of you who noticed—yes, I did use 2 different songs here, I couldn't pick between them! Haha. Nickelback is always good for a dirty song, hehe.

Next chapter up soon! Thanks for reading—review!

*~Archie~*

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Hey guys. Here's the next chapter. Thanks for reading—thanks for the reviews! I've finished writing this story, should have 2 chapters after this one. Enjoy!

CHAPTER SEVEN: GOODBYE TO YOU

Of all the things I believe in
I just want to get it over with
Tears form behind my eyes
But I do not cry
Counting the days that past me by

I've been searching deep down in my soul
Words that I'm hearing are starting to get old
Looks like I'm starting all over again
The last three years were just pretend and I say
]
Goodbye to you
Goodbye to everything I thought I knew
You were the one I love
The one thing that I tried to hold on to

“Goodbye To You” MICHELLE BRANCH

What have I done?

A churning, hot ball of guilt-laden lead is wrecking havoc in my stomach. A hardcore pounding pulses somewhere in my head. I feel like I'm going to puke—I'm not sure if it's my hangover or my ethics causing the discomfort.

How could I do this?

My eyes automatically go to the alarm clock sitting on his bedside table. The red digits glare 3:47.

What was I thinking?

Fate is a cruel practical joker. What are the odds of meeting at a bar, me drunk and horny, and him…well, deliciously perfect, as usual?

I let my eyes quickly glance down at his sleeping form. The moonlight makes his pale skin look like a bleached white, a startling contrast against his midnight ebony hair. I physically ache for him to open his eyes so I can see the absolute burning passion those emerald orbs are capable of holding.

Irritatingly sober, I move the smallest bit to see if I can wiggle from his grasp without waking him.

He stirs, but only just. Confident, I ease his heavy arm that is slung possessively over my naked hip and quickly stand. Still slightly woozy, I almost fall over. I shake it off and try to find my clothes in the dark. My body aches. A dull throb pulsates between my thighs. I think I might have grown back a whole fucking cherry tree. I accidently hit his dresser and I hear him move again.

Forget my clothes. I need to get out of here, quick. What if Ginny caught us? How could I so selfishly put his future in jeopardy?

I curse myself for not bringing my wand. I am so stupid.

I open a drawer and pull out a pair of jeans. Next drawer over, I steal a t-shirt.

I look one last time at his sleep body. I want to pull the sheet back to fully appreciate him, but I dare not even try. Heart breaking all over again, I open the door and head out into the hall. Once in the safety of the kitchen, I wiggle into his jeans, damning his too narrow hips. His shirt fits, but I put my arms underneath and stretch so it falls loosely against my breasts.

I feel terrible for leaving him like this. I grab a pen and write a quick note on a pad of paper sitting on his kitchen table: Good-bye Harry. I rip the bottom half off the paper and slowly walk back to his room. I just want to see him one last time.

I creep into his room and place the note on his bedside table. He looks so peaceful. How many hours have I just watched him sleep? I've seen him go through so much hell, when he's peacefully sleeping, he looks younger, happier. I used to force myself to stay awake, just to watch.

I lean down and chance the whisper of kiss to his forehead. “Good-bye,” I breathe as tears begin to form at the corners of my eyes.

I eye my jacket in the light flooding into a small section of the room from the moon and pick it up. I slink from the room, not looking back.

My walk of shame is long. Four in the morning in London. Without the distraction of being in Harry's bedroom, I have to acknowledge that I have a hangover from hell. My coat hugs my body, keeping me only semi-warm. I don't think. I focus on the chattering of my teeth, on the tinkling of my keys in my jacket. Finally, I get to the empty parking lot with my parents' SUV. Chilled to the bone, I hastily hop in and crank up the heat. It takes a minute or so for me to thaw, but once I regain the use of my fingers, I head home.

Now I'm on a train. I packed as soon as I got home. I roused my parents around seven. They bought my story of work calling and telling me someone broke their leg, and they need me to come in tomorrow morning. It was only a day early anyway. They understood. I hated lying. I had to get out of London.

There is no train to Seaham today. I considered Apparating, but I'm not ready to face the loneliness of my empty apartment just yet. I have to take a very long route to two other stations with a few hours of layover time. I welcome it.

Tired, I lay back on the bench I'm sharing with Jasper and close my eyes. I let last night's bliss wash over me, finally.

“Take me somewhere, now.” I demand, reaching up for another fiery kiss. He tastes better than anything in the world.

He pulls me into the hallway leading to the loo, conveniently empty. Instead of going to a familiar stall, however, he Dispparates without breaking our heated kiss. We end up just inside the doors of his building. “Oops. Meant to go directly to my flat.” He mumbles against my mouth. He picks me up and carries me to his floor then pushes me up against the door as he fumbles with his keys. Finally, we are inside his flat.

It isn't awkward. I don't allow time for that. He attempts to pull away but I only tighten my hold on him. Getting the point, he takes me to his bedroom.

Jasper nudges my arm, whimpering. Eyes still closed, I whisper tiredly, “Shhh, baby. Mummy is exhausted. A man with a devil's tongue kept me up all night.” I finish with a giggle as I let my mind wander again.

His hands were fire on my body. “Hermione, what—” He tries to say something but I don't let him.

“Shhh, don't talk.” I command, my hands reaching for his belt.

He pulls off my jacket and throws it on the floor. My shirt follows.

I shimmy quickly out of my jeans. I feel like I'm about to combust, it's almost painful.

I pull him onto the bed. It creaks under our combined weight. He shifts so he can see me. His eyes are a shade I've never seen before, but I feel flames might engulf me if he keeps looking at me like that.

I want don't want flames; I want the whole damn fire.

“Hermione, please, just for a second, listen. You're drunk. Just—”

Set ablaze by my sheer desire for this moment, for him, I shut him up with a kiss. I won't let him deny me. I won't let him ruin this with talk about how wrong this is. I push him on his back and straddle his hips. I can feel his arousal on my inner thigh. I kiss him fiercely and trail my tongue down his neck, to his nipples, down his stomach.

He moans. It's such a delicious sound and invokes my own groan of anticipation. He helps me tug off his boxers and makes quick work of my knickers.

He's in control again. Apparently, he got the point that we aren't talking about this. His hands are in my hair, begging me to trail my kisses even lower.

I coyly oblige.

“Oh God.” He gulps in a deep breath of air. “Oohh.”

He flips us so I'm on my back again. His mouth is everywhere, his hands trailing only seconds behind.

A horn in the distance jolts me from my reverie, right when I was remembering the best parts. Irritated, I peek out to see that we are at the second station.

Two hours of waiting. I grab a bite to eat at a café across the street from the station. I take Jasper to the bathroom; a subtle flick of my wand from the arm of my jacket cleans up his mess.

I board the next train, this time I share a compartment with a snoring old lady. I pull a blanket from my bag and cover myself up.

I stare out the window as the grassy scenery rushes past.

I'm doing the right thing.

I'm giving him a chance.

I try to convince myself not to go running back. Last night ignited the inferno that burns inside of me for him. I want more. I need more.

“God, Harry, please…I need you…now…please, now!” I beg, reaching between us to guide him right where I want him.

He doesn't hesitate. He plunges deep within me and I let out a small whimper. It hurts, but the pain is more liberating than anything I've ever felt.

He lets out a sharp gasp, followed by what can only be described as a more-than-satisfied groan.

I ground my hips against him, needing to feel the friction this dance presents. He catches the hint. He pulls out then slams against me again.

My mouth is everywhere, trying to kiss any part of him I can reach. His body is already covered in sweat. I don't care. The salty tang of his skin combined with the musky taste of him is arousing—hell, it's exactly what I crave. More. More. More.

My fingers wind in his hair, pulling it in all directions. Too hard, but he doesn't seem to mind. My hands roam his back, nails digging so deep I wouldn't be surprised if I draw blood. Once again, he doesn't mind in the slightest.

He isn't exactly gentle either. He thrusts into me with such force it's no wonder I've wedged a pillow between me and the headboard. A passionate, no-holding-back-anything fuck.

Our breathing is uneven, loud. Moans are tangled into muffled screams of pleasure.

Switching positions. Harry always did love to keep if fresh. I find myself bent against the bed, one of his hands holding my hip while the other seeks refuge in the apex of my thighs as he makes his way behind me. I grip the edge of the bed, eye squeezing closed tightly. He grunts behind me, pulling me nearer. He pushes my knees back up on the bed, all the while inching my thighs apart just a little more to make room for his body to get closer. The light pang at my hips from being spread to their limits is wonderful.

After a mind numbing fuck, we just laid there, trying to regain our bearings. Before either of us could say anything, I started round two. It was slower, longer. Reconnecting. We made love for what felt like hours. Lip-biting, hand-tingling, leg-trembling love.

It was glorious—some of our best work. Just thinking about it makes my hands tremble and itch to trail down to the button on my jeans , just to relive even a small fracture of pleasure he brought me last night, right here in this train compartment. I can certainly feel a cool wetness that has pooled at my crotch during my reminiscing. I chance a glance at the sleeping old lady, pull my blanket up higher to my chin, and let fingers slowly explore. They ease the button open effortlessly, make quick work of my zipper, and with one eye on my riding company, I naughtily dip two fingers into my cotton panties. I stifle a moan of pleasure. My eyes flutter closed. I begin to replay last night's events in my head a second time, my breathing shallow.

I don't even last a full minute. Small spasms of pleasure jolt through my body, paling in comparison to last night's orgasms.

Last night, I was sober enough to know what I was doing, but far too drunk to care.

I'm sober now. I can see the possible repercussions of my stupid actions—despite riding a slight high from my own naughty ministrations.

My thoughts are stopped by another train changeover. It's hard to board this last one, the one that is going to take me to my banishment.

But I board it. Just a few hours now. Night has fallen. What a way to spend New Years' Eve.

I board it because I'm good girl. Despite my naughty thoughts, I'm good. I'm full of repentance.

Closure. I never got to say good-bye to Harry. I never knew, the last time we had been together on his birthday, that it was going to be the last time. I would have made it last long, would have appreciated it more. Our bodies never got to say good-bye.

Now I knew. And I got to say good-bye for hours. I got my closure. Perhaps I can move on now, the way he has.

I've been selfish. I'd manipulated Harry that night in the tent. He was a seventeen year old boy—I knew he wouldn't say no, not even pure Harry.

I had thought, that night, that I was making a deal with the Devil. I would sacrifice my love to make him forget, just for a little while. I had meant to be selfless.

I should have known the obligation he would have felt to me after. I know him better than anyone. How could he ever have a chance if I was always there, over his shoulder, tempting him with breasts and a vagina? I took advantage of him without even knowing it. Loyal Harry would never leave me, his best friend, for anyone, even if it was what he wanted more than anything.

Because he's the selfless one. He would give up his own happiness to make me happy. And he wouldn't think anything of it. In fact, he would be happy to.

I'm such a terrible person for taking advantage of that. I remember a rendezvous in a bar bathroom stall. He had been there with a girl from work, strictly platonic. He had told me that she meant nothing, and if I wanted him to, he'd leave right now and not think a second thought about it.

He had been genuine. I never had to worry about him with anyone. Back then, I thought it was because he loved me—it was because he loved me.

But did he love me for so long because his loyalty would never give him a real chance to love anyone else?

I can't answer that. And I won't be his regret, just like he will never be one of mine. I know he'd never see me that way, but I would see myself that way.

Selfless. It's my turn to be truly selfless, I remind myself.

Because now he did get a chance to love, at his own free will. As much as I hate it, I'm happy for him. I'm sorry for last night to Ginny. I'm sorry I turned Harry into a cheater. He tried to beg off—though not all that heartily, I have to admit with a satisfied smirk. Remembering the sounds of his moans elicits a gentle pulsating in my already-wet panties. Despite my own little happy ending back in the last train, I still want him so bad. Uncomfortable because the desire is becoming almost painful, I sit up and pull Jasper to my lap. I need to take my mind off of him.

Impossible.

Silently, I cry as the train rushes me further and further north. My tears cool my desire.

It's late. Seaham Railway Station is not terribly busy. I put Jasper on a leash and swing my duffle bag over my head and onto my shoulder. Tears dried up, eyes still red, I walk out into the night's cool air.

It's late, almost eleven `o'clock. “Happy New Year,” I mumble unenthusiastically to myself.

The night is dark. I look for a safe place to Disapparate to my small flat when I hear a voice behind me.

“I've been waiting for you. I wasn't sure if you were going to make it.”

I turn around, shocked, to see Harry leaning up against his SUV, hands tucked casually in his pockets. If my bag hadn't been slung across my body, I would have dropped it.

I still get lost in your eyes
And it seems like I can't live a day without you
Closing my eyes till you chase my thoughts away
To a place where I am blinded by the light but it's not right

Goodbye to you
Goodbye to everything I thought I knew
You were the one I love
The one thing that I tried to hold on to

Oh yeah
It hurts to want everything & nothing at the same time
I want what's yours and I want what's mine
I want you but I'm not giving in this time

“Goodbye To You” MICHELLE BRANCH

Well, what did you think?! PLEASE let me know—I might post faster, seeing as how I'm DONE with the rest of the story. So yeah…hopefully you guys liked it!

Thanks for reading!

*~Archie~*

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Hey everyone! Here's the next chapter. I know I said I had two chapters left (I think I said that) but I decided to split this one into 2, so there will be a total of 10 chapters in this story, this being chapter 8. I've been wanting to do a fic with this song for a long time, and as I looked through my iTunes for a song for their meeting, I saw this one and was like “Perfect!” Haha, I got pretty excited, not gonna lie. Anyway, thanks for all the reviews. For those who read this right away, I will reply to your reviews from last chapter at some point today—in case you read those, haha. Well, enjoy!

CHAPTER EIGHT: LIVING PROOF

She hangs up the phone and her heart starts to pound
Someone just told her an old friend's in town
And a million old feelings come rushing in
Start tearing to pieces what it took years to mend

She's living proof true love never dies
Through all of the heartaches and all the goodbyes
She just can't forget it Lord knows she's tried
She's living proof true love never dies

“Living Proof” RICKY VAN SHELTON

“Harry?! What are you doing here?” I shriek as he walks towards me.

He lifts my bag from my shoulder and puts it on his own. “Come on, I'll give you a ride.”

Too surprised to object, I numbly follow. The inside of his SUV is cold—it's been sitting here for awhile.

“How long have you been here?” I half-accuse.

“Awhile.” He replies, turning onto the road.

“How long is `awhile'?”

“I woke up, went to your parents' house looking for you, and they said you got on a train back home. `Urgent work thing.' I've been here since three in the afternoon, waiting on your train.” He says all this casually, and not as if I hadn't just wasted his entire day.

My stomach squirms uncomfortably. “What are you doing here?” I ask, barely above a whisper.

We pull up to my house and I vaguely realize I'd never told him where I live. Stalker.

He hops out and grabs my bag and opens the door for me and Jasper.

He whistles. “Come on, Jake.”

Jake?

He rouses a puppy from the very back of the SUV, sleeping in a dog bed. The black and brown puppy sees Jasper in my arms, stops mid-yawn and starts barking quietly.

“Jake is…your puppy?” I say slowly, my mind buzzing. What?

“Yeah, pretty cute, huh?” He replies, picking the little bugger up in one hand and taking my hand with the other to lead me to my own door. I don't feel the presence of my wards that I put on the house, and knowing exactly who broke through them, I get irritated.

Feeling slightly off put but the entire weird situation, of Harry hosting me at my own house, I turn around as he turns all the lights on.

“Harry…what are you doing here?” I ask again, demandingly this time. I was getting answers. “Does Ginny know you're here?” I throw out, wanting to surprise him that I knew more than he probably thought I did. At the same time, I want him to think I am ignorant and not the type of person to break up a family—that I wasn't the disgusting person I am. That I had no idea the other night in my drunken state.

“I didn't tell her.” He responds with a shrug.

“Why are you here?” I ask a third time, leaving no room for him to deflect the question.

Finally, for the first time, he looks at me fully. “To see you. To ask you why you left this morning. Why did you come to me last night? Why didn't you tell me you were in town in the first place?” He fires back several questions at once, yet his voice is surprisingly even. Too even.

Jasper and Jake play quietly in the background, but neither of us pays attention. Harry's eyes are blazing.

He's angry. He's angry and he's acting calm.

This wasn't good.

“This isn't a good idea.” I say, knowing the futility of it.

Harry won't be dismissed. “Maybe it isn't. But me leaving isn't either. We're talking—you owe me that.”

His words sting.

Mustering up my own anger for him invading my private life, I take a step forward and eye him as an opponent. My fingers flex for my wand.

“Okay. Let's talk. What do you want to talk about?” I spit out furiously. Why am I so upset? Isn't this what I've been wanting?

“You left me a year and a half ago. Why?” He asks, crossing his arms across his chest determinedly.

I answer, my eyes dropping to the floor, “We've already talked about that.”

“No, you talked and left. You never got to hear me out. And I've wait patiently for you to come back for almost eighteen months now. I deserve an explanation.” His jaw is set.

* * *

My hands are shaking, heart racing. Her dismissal only fuels the anger that has been boiling under my skin ever since I woke up this morning. When I found that she wasn't there, horrified, I had thought it might have been a dream. Then I found her clothes strewn all over my room. And a note written undeniably in her hand. I had gotten dress and shot straight over to her parents' house. This was exactly what I needed. You don't have that sort of passion with someone you don't love anymore. She loved me. When her mum told me she went home, I was out of town in fifteen minutes. I knew it would be a long wait—I had called the stations. I was prepared to wait. She wasn't running away this time. I'd be at the finish line to greet her.

When she came to me last night…I was shocked. I was out having a drink with Ron—sober for the most part—and suddenly in walks a very erotically-charged Hermione. When she saw me, pure lust burned in those cinnamon orbs. She had confidently sauntered over, pulled me down and kissed me fiercely with so much heat that I thought I was going to combust.

It hadn't taken long to realize she was in fact drunk. I felt bad, like I was taking advantage of her. I had tried to stop her, talk to her, but dammit, when she wants some, there's no stopping her. I convinced myself she wasn't doing this because she was intoxicated. No, she would have searched me out had she been completely sober. Perhaps the alcohol had been a little liquid courage. Having a fierce sex drive and not getting laid for a year and a half had played a role as well, I'm sure.

Waking up to an empty bed confirmed my fears—she had sought me out because she was drunk. Guilt for taking advantage was only short-lived as my anger settled in. The drive here helped me think everything through. I had hours to be sure that this was the right course. I'm tired of waiting.

She was shocked to see me, no doubt. I didn't want to make a scene, so I played it cool.

Now we're here, alone, and she can't leave. I put a ward on the house so she cannot Apparate out of it.

She wasn't going anywhere, and I was getting my answers.

“Well, I don't know what you want me to say, Harry.” Hermione retorts stubbornly. “I tried to help you. Obviously I succeeded. So why are you here? Go home. Go home to your baby.”

This throws me for a loop. “What in the hell are you talking about?” I ask, dumbfounded. Baby?

Hermione throws up her hands, exasperated. “Ginny. She told me about you two.”

Whoa. “What?!” I repeat again, still confused.

“I saw her while doing my Christmas shopping. She told me you moved on. That she was pregnant. Well, she implied it. I thought Jake was the child but apparently that is your dog. Either way, you're happy. Don't screw this up over me.” Her voice is suddenly soft and her eyes watery.

I shake my head as I make a mental note to hex Ginny into her next lifetime. “I've never been with her. She must have been…I dunno why she would tell you that. I haven't been with anyone else. I've been waiting for you.” I say, my voice trailing off in the end.

Now it is her turn to be shocked. “Oh. She was vague…I just assumed…” Her face floods with embarrassment and for a second, it is hard for me to remember that I'm angry with her. A slight understanding for her leaving settles somewhere in the back of my head, but I refuse to acknowledge it. She was nowhere near off the hook.

“That doesn't matter. You still left me. You broke my heart.” I tell her, my voice rising with each syllable.

“I'm sorry. I was giving you a chance to move on. I've been just as manipulative as that wretched redhead. I took advantage of you, Harry. Of your loyalty. You've been obligated to me for too many years.” She says, tears coming down her cheeks.

“Hermione…stop being ridiculous. I love you. I've always loved you. I have never in my life ever felt obligated to you—except for S.P.E.W—but even then, I supported you.” I tell her, exasperated by her thickness. Was this really why she left? She hadn't been clear that night on my birthday. Everything had been a blur.

She closes her eyes and shakes her head as if she is trying to drown out my voice. I close the distance between us and shake her enough so she opens her eyes. “Stop. Don't do that. I am being serious.” I tell her, grabbing her face between my hands and forcing her to look at me.

“You wouldn't know you felt obligated, Harry. You're too good. You wouldn't know. You'd be happy to be with me forever. Don't see you that? That's why it is so bad. I've been in love with you for years, and I used sex to get you to love me back, but I wasn't trying to. I just wanted to make you forget for awhile.”

I can't help it. I let go of her and take a few steps back. My temper is at a boiling point. I begin to shout, “YOU AREN'T LISTENING TO ME. CAN'T YOU SEE WHAT YOU'VE DONE TO ME?! IF YOU WANT TO FEEL BAD, FEEL BAD FOR LEAVING ME, FOR BREAKING MY HEART. I'VE BEEN A MESS FOR THE LAST YEAR AND A HALF—FEEL LIKE SHIT OVER THAT BECAUSE YOU SHOULD!” My voice grows hoarse. “Don't you doubt the way I've ever felt about you, or the way I feel about you now. Don't insult my feelings, Hermione.” I threaten quietly. “I'm not some stupid, innocent little boy. I know exactly what I feel.”

My words render her speechless.

But not quiet. She bursts into hysterical sobs. My cool exterior vanishes and I rush over to hug her. Her tears stain my shirt, but I don't care. “I'm sorry. I shouldn't have yelled.” I apologize, pulling her closer.

“I'm sorry.” She manages to say through her cries. “I was trying to do what was best. I was trying to save you from regrets later in life, in case you know…you realized you didn't really want me.”

I rock her slowly back and forth. “It's you, Hermione. It's always been you, ever since I met you on the train. You aren't the one with the impulsive saving-people thing, Hermione. That's my job, so stop it.” I joke, earning the small hint of a smile. “And anyway, you've been saving me since we were eleven. You've been there for me when no one else has. How could I not love you? Hell, you've never given me a chance—not because you were there, but because you've outshone every other girl on the planet in every way.” I clarify so she doesn't get any ideas.

Finally, once she calms down, Hermione shrugs out of my embrace.

“Surely you can see part of my view on this, Harry? Can't you understand my side at all?” She asks, and I know she's going to be hurt by my answer, but I'm leaving no wiggle room.

“No. You have no argument. No excuses. You acted like a damn bitch, and I'm not going to give you the slightest edge on seeing sense with your argument so you never do it again. I already forgave you, I will forget, but I will never excuse.” My words are honest but not mean. I think she understands; I hope she does anyway.

“I don't know what to even say right now.” She admits, still at a loss for words. “I'm sorry I put you through that. The last thing I ever wanted to do was hurt you. If it's any consolation…I've been in hell myself.”

I smile. “It's not as much of a consolation as you would think. I hate seeing you upset.” I confess.

Hermione takes a few steps away and turns around to face me. “Where do we go from here? To go back to how it's been…I dunno. There's just so much…”

“You told me, the night you left, that you loved me and to never doubt that. But things might have changed for you, and I can live with that. If you don't want me, then that's okay. Just say it, and I'll go. I'm not going to make you love me. I'm not going to make you be with me. I'm not going to beg. You know how I feel—I've been in love with you for as long as I can remember. If you love me, then Hermione, we can make it. I know we can. I want it all. But if that's not what you want, then tell me now. You aren't going to break my heart again. I don't have the strength to withstand it. So you tell me.” I reach into the pocket of my jacket and pull out a small box. “Merry Christmas.”

Hermione takes the box and wordlessly opens it. Inside, a silver key lay against blue velvet.

“I already have one of these.” She says softly, fingering the key lovingly.

“I'm asking you to come home. Move in with me. I want to be as public as it can get. I love you. I don't want to wait for anything else.” My voice is confident, demanding. “So you need to tell me exactly what you want, Hermione.”

You answer the door and I say hello
If you don't want to see me just tell me I'll go
But I can't love without you it's only pretend
There's no love like your sweet love can we try it again

We're living proof true love never dies
Through all of the heartaches and all the goodbyes
I just can't forget you Lord knows I've tried
Well we're living proof true love never dies

“Living Proof” RICKY VAN SHELTON

Well, what did you think? Short, I know, but that's how I want to keep this fic (can't you tell? It went from a 3 shot to 10 chapters…I can't help myself sometimes ) PLEASE review—I'll update faster, I promise. I have the rest of the story completely finished, kinda sad really. I don't want to stop writing it! Anyway, thanks so much for reading, and I'll see you all next round!

REVIEW!

*~Archie~*

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Hey everyone. Here's the next chapter. There should be one more after this if everything goes as plan. I hope you guys like this one! The beginning is a little repetitive, I know, but I just wanted to show you guys exactly how Hermione felt about everything. It picks up right where her point of view left off last chapter.

Well, enjoy! As always, I own nothing.

CHAPTER NINE: ALL OR NOTHING

Let's take a chance go far away today
And never look back again
Since I said I loved you in Las Vegas
It's never been the same since then

You've got all that I need
Looking at all or nothing
Babe it's you and I

“All Or Nothing” THEORY OF A DEADMAN

Does he really want to go through all of this again? Fury, heartache, and regret bubble somewhere inside my stomach as angry tears burn at the corners of my eyes. I try to push them back and retort stubbornly, “Well, I don't know what you want me to say, Harry.” His name feels like forbidden poison on my tongue. “I tried to help you,” I continue, feeling spite weave into my already-cross words. “Obviously I succeeded. So why are you here? Go home.” It is difficult to hide the sob my next words involuntarily evoke. “Go home to your baby.”

Shame engulfs me. I need to be strong. I need to show him that I'm happy for him—because I am. I will be. Or I'll try to be. I have to be.

His next words take me by surprise. “What in the hell are you talking about?”

I want to scream at him for making me relive all this pain. Wasn't I suffering enough? Irritation begins to take the place of the pain. I throw my hands in the air, exasperated. “Ginny.” I spit the word with more spite than I intend.

A dumbfounded expression still takes over Harry's features. His dark eyebrows knit in confusion. “What?”

A small wisp of uncertainty taints my words, “I saw her while doing my Christmas shopping. She told me you moved on.” My voice is snide, but I can't control it. “That she was pregnant.” I realize she never really said those exact words, so I quickly clarify, “Well, she implied it. I thought Jake was the child, but apparently that is your dog.” I rush to say all this before I begin to cry. I close my eyes for a second and take a deep breath. My words are soft, slightly pleading, “Either way, you're happy. Don't screw this up over me.”

Shock crosses his face, and for a second, hesitation grips me—but that quickly turns to something else entirely—despair. Everything was out in the open. No turning back. No pretending the white elephant isn't sitting in the corner of the room.

I knew.

He knew I knew.

He knew what I was capable of—putting his whole future in jeopardy. And that I was selfish enough to do so.

Harry shakes his head. I brace myself for the worst—that he had in fact moved on, and he would have a family soon. Or perhaps the best—that he would leave all that behind for me—which was worse. Did I have the strength to tell him no?

His voice is suddenly serious panicked. “I've never been with her. She must have been…I dunno why she would tell you that. I haven't been with anyone else. I've been waiting for you.” His voice nearly breaks in the end, filled with emotion.

More emotion than I can stomach. A sudden dizziness takes over my head.

What?

No Ginny?

No unborn child?

Several emotions spin in my head instantaneously, and I don't know which one to feel: pain for his pinning over me and not moving on; remorse for leaving him in such a state in the first place; heartache for my hooks being in him so deep; fury at Ginny for lying to me and making me see just how ugly of a person I could be—I am; guilt-laden relief for him not having the simple desire to find someone more suitable for him.

Feeling more relief than I care to admit, as well as shock, I try to reply nonchalantly, “Oh. She was vague…I just assumed…” My mind rewinds back to that dreadful day as I try to remember her exact words. I've replayed the scene in my mind several times over the last few weeks. No, she hadn't in fact said a word about them being together. However, her actions spoke otherwise. My face is red, and I'm not sure why. Anger? Embarrassment? Was I outsmarted by simple Ginny Weasley—a girl with no impressive academic background? A clever girl that had been biding her time, sowing seeds of doubt in my head about the man I was in love with? A very good friend of mine who nudged me along to the conclusion that I had taken advantage of my best friend?

Should I be angry, or thank her for helping me see the error in my ways—even if it was to her own twisted end? Despite knowing I should be grateful, I'm furious. That foul little brat. My fingers flex towards my wand again. I could get her with her own specialty hex—show her just how feeble her skills really are.

“That doesn't matter. You still left me. You broke my heart.” Harry brings me back to the present. He is still fuming.

I tuck my desire for revenge to reason with him, to defend my argument. Ginny or no Ginny, I still had a defense. “I'm sorry. I was giving you a chance to move on. I've been just as manipulative as that wretched redhead.” I can't help but sling mud. “I took advantage of you, Harry. Of your loyalty. You've been obligated to me for too many years.” The cold hard truth of my words causes tears to slide down my cheeks. I hiccup quietly, willing my feet to stay planted to the ground when I really want to run out in sheer shame.

With a look of slight annoyance, Harry scoffs. “Hermione…stop being ridiculous. I love you. I've always loved you. I have never in my life ever felt obligated to you—except with S.P.E.W.—but even then, I supported you.” I hiccup a small laugh despite myself.

I close my eyes and shake my head. I don't want to hear this. I do—but I can't. No. This is typical Harry. His large hands suddenly grab my arms shake me none too gently. I welcome the pain—nothing more than I deserve. “Stop. Don't do that. I am being serious.” His angry hands grab my face as he forces my gaze from the floor to his emerald eyes. I can't help but feel small, guilty trills of pleasure from his touch.

I push him away. I have to. “You wouldn't know you felt obligated, Harry. You're too good. You wouldn't know. You'd be happy to be with me forever. Don't you see that?” My voice snaps at him. I'm ready for this to be over so I can curl up in a ball and just block everything out. “I've been in love with you for years, and I used sex to get you to love me back, but I wasn't trying to. I just wanted to make you forget for awhile.” My confession is washed up and over used, but it spills forth anyway,.

Something I said did it. His jaw quivered slightly and his eyes dangerously narrowed. I have expect for him to reach for his wand. Instead, his hands ball into furious fists and he begins to shout in my face. “YOU AREN'T LISTENING TO ME. CAN'T YOU SEE WHAT YOU'VE DONE TO ME?! IF YOU WANT TO FEEL BAD, FEEL BAD FOR LEAVING ME, FOR BREAKING MY HEART. I'VE BEEN A MESS FOR THE LAST YEAR AND A HALF—FEEL LIKE SHIT OVER THAT BECAUSE YOU SHOULD!” His words pierce me like daggers. I want put my hands over my ears so I don't have to listen to him anymore.

His voice grows quiet, barely above a dangerous whisper. Don't you doubt the way I've ever felt about you, or the way I feel about you now. Don't insult my feelings, Hermione. I'm not some stupid, innocent little boy. I know exactly what I feel.”

Guilt, remorse, shame, humiliation, and many other emotions create a ball of pain in my chest, squeezing my heart uncomfortably. My tears become uncontrollable sobs. I feel surrender brimming on the horizon, despite my futile grip to my defense. He hugs me and says something, but I don't hear him. I just slowly drop into my own selfish abyss of guilt. Guilt for everything: leaving him, losing him, coming back to tease him, and the sheer relief of seeing I've ruined him for anyone else.

“I'm sorry.” I manage to say. “I was trying to do what was best. I was trying to save you from regrets later in love, in case you know…you realized you didn't really want me.” I don't even know what I'm saying, but word vomit rambles from my mouth.

He rocks me slowly back and forth. “It's you, Hermione. It's always been you, ever since I met you on the train. You aren't the one with the impulsive saving-people thing, Hermione. That's my job, so stop it.” He jokes, and even though I feel like hell, I give him a small, teary-eyed smile. “And anyway, you've been saving me since we were eleven. You've been there for me when no one else has. How could I not love you? Hell, you've never given me a chance—not because you were there, but because you've outshone every other girl on the planet in every way.” His words are cheesy. The meaning behind them is cliché. They are perfect.

I pull away even though I only want to hug him tighter. “Surely you can see part of my view on this, Harry? Can't you understand my side at all?” I beg for him to see reason, see a hint of the truth.

His words are flat. “No. You have no argument. No excuses. You acted like a damn bitch, and I'm not going to give you the slightest edge on seeing sense with your argument so you never do it again. I already forgave you, I will forget, but I will never excuse.”

His words hang in the air, some like bitch and no excuses, louder than others.

I run a hand through my hair, feeling somewhat put together though only just. I'm still just a tiny pinprick from falling back into shambles.

I need to apologize. “I don't even know what you say right now. I'm sorry I put you through that. The last thing I ever wanted to do was hurt you.” My words are honest and true. “If it's any consolation…I've been in hell myself.”

He smiles. “It's not as much of a consolation as you would think. I hate seeing you upset.”

I take a few steps away to give myself room to breathe. “Where do we go from here? To go back to how it's been…I dunno. There's just so much…” I'm clueless. What now? Does he forgive me enough to repair this? Do I forgive myself enough? I suddenly see a vision of us, lying against a tree in each others' arms. Despite the quick glimpse, I know the significance of the golden band on my finger.

His words pull me from my reverie. “You told me, the night you left, that you loved me and to never doubt that. But things might have changed for you, and I can live with that. If you don't want me, then that's okay. Just say it, and I'll go. I'm not going to make you love me. I'm not going to make you be with me. I'm not going to beg. You know how I feel—I've been in love with you for as long as I can remember. If you love me, then Hermione, we can make it. I know we can. I want it all. But if that's not what you want, then tell me now. You aren't going to break my heart again. I don't have the strength to withstand it. So you tell me.” He pulls a small box from his pocket. “Merry Christmas.”

I resist the urge to say the automatic response of “Christmas is over” and mutely, I take it with shaking fingers and open it. Inside, a silver key lay against blue velvet. I know exactly what it is to—Harry's flat.

“I already have one of these.” I whisper, fingering the cold metal of the key.

“I'm asking you to come home. Move in with me. I want to be as public as it can get. I love you. I don't want to wait for anything else.” His voice is certain, demanding. “So you need to tell me exactly what you want, Hermione.”

He wants to know what I want.

What have I always wanted?

Him. I'm never going to want anyone else. He's made it clear that he won't either. All my previous assumptions about everything…they are harder to cling to.

I don't know how to feel about what I've done. I hate that I broke his heart, but at the same time, it's hard to regret it. Perhaps, if I hadn't, something might have happened and we wouldn't be standing here right now, trying to figure out where to go.

How can I show him exactly what I want? What I need, if he genuinely wants it too? His actions have always spoke volumes over his words. Waiting for me for a year a half. Coming here. Shouting sense into me.

I guess sometimes, two people just click. They're meant for each other. Whatever circumstance, whatever happens, they are it for one another. Despite whatever selfish need or stupid occurrence that brings them together, they're together—and that's what matters.

We met by happenstance. Became friends over natural instincts. Evolved to best friends throughout a slew of eventful Hogwarts years. Matured to lovers out of desperation in the dark corners of a lonely tent.

Two people just trying to save each other.

Our natural courses brought us together. I left; I gave him a chance to move on. I gave him the opportunity to have a different life.

He chose not to.

I don't have the strength to stay away anymore.

I turn around and walk silently to my bedroom. I reach in my knickers' drawer and pull out another small box. I haven't looked at it since I hid it in here. I go back to Harry, who is waiting patiently. With shaking hands, I hand him the unfamiliar box.

“I want this.” My voice quivers, but only just.

Slightly confused, he opens the box and sees the ring he gave me on his birthday. His bottle green eyes are dark as understanding overtakes him. Holding my breath, I gauge for a further reaction. Was this a mistake? Should I have waited? Too much, too soon? Was I even sure about this?

If there is anything I've learned being with Harry, it was to always keep it real. If I want something, tell him. I've never shied away from my desires before. He's the one person I have always been able to be completely honest with.

To my only slight surprise, without hesitation, he gets down on one knee and takes my left hand into both of his.

He doesn't speak; neither do I.

He slides the ring on my shaking finger.

Tears well up from happiness. I drop to my own knees as well.

I immediately pull him into a searing kiss with all the passion I can muster. “Happy New Year.” He whispers quietly against my mouth.

I look up the clock. “It's not quite midnight yet.” I correct automatically. Why do I do stuff like that and ruin the moment?

Not deterred one bit by my compulsive need to correct things, he picks me up bridal-style and carries me to my soon-to-be former bedroom. “Well, I guess we'll just have to keep kissing so we don't miss it, Mrs. Potter.” He replies with a smirk.

This is it nothing to hide
One more kiss never say goodbye
This is it babe your all mine
Looking at all or nothing
Babe it's you and I
I know that I am good for something
So let's go give it a try
We got our backs against the ocean
It's just us against the world

“All Or Nothing” 3 DOORS DOWN

Well, what did you think? Please review! I appreciate it!!!! The next chapter will be up soon! Thanks for reading!

REVIEW!

*~Archie~*

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Hello everyone. Here is the final(?) chapter. This one is Ron and Ginny's points of view. I've been toying with the idea of writing another, just as a closing chapter with Harry and Hermione. I dunno. Kinda burnt out on it, especially with so many people telling me how disappointing the last chapter was—which I'd like to explain real quick!

Yes, I did repeat a lot of the confrontation from chapter 7 in chapter 8; however, I think it is important to see Hermione's point of view on it all, otherwise, her busting out a ring would have been pretty premature. The transition in her thought process is key. Yes, I could have just glazed over it all, but I don't think it would have been enough. Now, I got to exactly where I wanted to end in the last chapter. The beginning was pretty much just an added bonus if you wanted to see Hermione's thoughts—didn't have to necessarily read it. However, it would have been a very short read if you hadn't read the beginning, but that's whatever. I didn't write all that to make the chapter longer—just so people could see what she was thinking, yada yada yada. But yeah, several people had something to say about that so I thought I'd mention my reasoning here in case they don't read review replies.

So I dunno if I'm going to post another chapter or not; it's just a good thing I already had this one written, haha. Also: Note about Potter VS Granger Rivalry at the end of this chapter!

The Ron scene here was inspired by a certain amazing T.V. show—gold star to those who recognize it!

Thanks to all of those who have read and reviewed—much appreciated (even if they bum me out, lol).

Disclaimer: I own nothing. No money being made.

CHAPTER TEN: A HEART LIKE MINE

I've practiced this for hours, gone round and round
And now I think that I've got it all down
And as I say it louder, I love how it sounds
'Cause I'm not taking the easy way out
Not wrappin' this in ribbons
Shouldn't have to give a reason why

It's no surprise. I won't be here tomorrow
I can't believe that I stayed 'til today
Yeah you and I will be a tough act to follow
But I know in time we'll find this was no surprise

It came out like a river, once I let it out
When I thought that I wouldn't know how
Held onto it forever, just pushing it down
It felt so good to let go of it now
Not wrapping this in ribbons
Shouldn't have to give a reason why

“No Surprise” CHRIS DAUGHTRY

I'm happy she's back.

Truly, I am.

I've missed her. We all have. I hated what her leaving did to him. He's my best mate. The best bloke there ever was. He's stuck his neck out for me more times than I'd care to count.

When he returned from Seaham, all her things packed neatly in his SUV, a ring gleaming on her finger, I was ecstatic. The look on his face…well, there are no words to describe the happiness. Bright green eyes and I think his cheeks had to be hurting by the end of the night with that stupid grin he had on his face all day. If anyone deserves that sort of happiness, it's him.

That was two months ago. They are getting married in three weeks—just a few months before Luna and my wedding at the beginning of June.

I'm the best man; Luna is the maid of honor.

Despite my services being to the groom, I am here with Hermione to help her pick out a present for Harry. It is the first time we've been alone since she came back. There is a tension between us. I know it's my fault.

I acted happy to see her—hell, I didn't have to act. I was happy. She fit right back in with everyone. She and Luna gushed like it was old times. We had a big dinner to celebrate their engagement. The only one missing from the action was my sister.

And for good reason. But that story is for another time.

I welcomed her home. I'm not one for feelings, but I had expected…something. Anything.

She had hugged me tight. Kissed both much cheeks numerous times. Told me she missed me like mad. I reciprocated. I waited.

Then she moved on to the next person in line.

Anger, abandonment, and betrayal surfaced all over again. I've been careful not to alone with her since.

Until she dragged me out here today, against my wishes.

We've talked a little. We've been silent for the most part. She asks my opinion, I give it.

“What do you think about this? I dunno. I know he loves Quidditch, but I really don't want to get him something for it. I mean…it just doesn't seem personal, you know?” Hermione says, pulling at a nice sweater.

I shrug. “I guess.” I lie. How could Quidditch not be personal? Quidditch is perfect—always perfect. “How about a new clock then? I'm sure he will enjoy that.” I say sarcastically with a roll of my eyes. Shopping with Hermione is possibly one of the worst things to experience. I don't have this sort of patience. My annoyance with her adds to my aggravation.

Hermione narrows her eyes. “Please, Ron, just for a few minutes, help me out here?”

We've been to countless shops, both Muggle and Magical. My tolerance is waning as my infuriation grows.

“Look, Hermione, why don't you just bleeding pick something, alright? It won't matter. If Harry wants something, he generally buys it. If he doesn't have it, then he probably doesn't bloody want it!” I finally snap, my temper getting the best of me.

“Fine. You don't want to help, then whatever.” She grabs my arm and Disapparates us back to their flat.

I turn to walk to the door, but she twists my arm back so I'm facing her. Apparently we aren't finished.

“What is your problem, Ron? You've been nothing but hateful towards me. What did I ever do to you? Why are you so angry with me?” She looks hurt, truly scorned by my outburst. Her hands are on her hips as she glares at me. I'm suddenly reminded of my mother. I half-expect Hermione to stomp her foot in a Molly Weasley like fashion.

I don't deny it. I have been cold towards her. Harry's my best friend. She hurt him.

But I've gotten over that. If Harry can forgive her, I can.

But there is something I can't forgive her for.

“You left, Hermione. You didn't care, you just fucking left.”

Anger blazes in her eyes as her lips tighten. “I told him I was sorry. He's forgiven me. Why can't you?” Her words are full of hurt, clear accusation ringing through.

But then again, so are mine.

“You never apologized to me.” I reply steely as I take a step forward so I am toe to toe with the brunette, easily towering over her.

My words catch her off guard. Not something that happens every day to Hermione Granger. If I wasn't so pissed off, I'd be proud of myself.

“What?” She sputters, clearly taken aback.

Suddenly, I don't hold back. Almost in a frenzie, I let my pent-up emotions burst forth. “You didn't just leave Harry, you left us all. You left me. Before the whole thing with you and Harry…we were best friends too, Hermione. I missed you. A lot. But you never called. You never wrote. I understand the whole thing with him…but why did you leave me too? You didn't even call me on my birthday! Or come to my engagement party! Hell, I was sure you wouldn't even be at my wedding, Hermione. My wedding! We were best friends! And you just come back here, and expect everything to be alright?!” I throw my frustration at her, hoping to cause her a fraction of the pain her absence has caused me.

She doesn't know what to say.

“I…I'm sorry. I never should have built up walls between us. My issues with him…that was separate, and I am so incredibly sorry for hurting you, for leaving you. I mean, Ron, I love you. You know that, right? And I missed you dearly.” Before I can see it coming, she throws her arms around me and squeezes in her vice-like grip. She buries her face in the crook of my neck. Her bushy brown hair covers my face, tickling my nose.

At first I feel ill at ease, but that soon melts away as I wrap my arms around her and pull her tighter against me. Her scent fills my nose. I realize she's crying.

I've missed this, even the emotional crying part. Her tears normally freak me out. I welcome it today; I welcome the familiarity of it all. I welcome her truly home.

This is exactly what I needed. I just wanted her to say she was sorry—that I meant something to her. As my anger quickly disappears, I feel my love for her swell even more.

“You're the best person I know, Hermione.” I mumble, not good at this sort of thing. I awkwardly stroke her hair.

She just squeezes me tighter. “I'm so sorry, Ron. I love you. I'm sorry. I hated leaving you too. I don't know how many times I wished I could talk to you, see you. But I thought you'd tell him, and…I'm sorry!” She apologizes over and over. Her tears fall on my t-shirt.

“Hey…guys…” A voice says behind me as Harry walks in the door. “What's…what's up?” He asks, no doubt confused by his hysterical fiancée. I see the sudden urge for me to take her from my arms in his eyes.

Hermione pulls away and grabs Harry to hug him as well. Unexpectedly, I get yanked back into the hugging pile. Hermione has an arm around each of our necks, attempting to strangle us as she tries to stop her tears. “I love you both so much!” She chokes out before rushing off to the loo.

Harry pulls a beer from the bag in his hands and passes it to me. “So…what was that?”

I twist the top and take a large swig. “Not sure, mate. I think she's starting her period. It would explain trying to commit a double homicide by strangling us to death. Leave it to a pms'ing Hermione to use her hands rather than her wand to kill someone.” I respond with a shrug, though I feel lighter than I have since her return. All water under the bridge.

* * *

I don't hate her. Not really. Or so I try to convince myself as I find a secluded spot outside.

Well, I guess I do. But at the same time, I don't.

My mum taught me not to hate people. She also taught me not to smoke. Yet here I am, lighting up. It's a bad habit I tend to partake in when I get stressed.

Harry ripped me a good one when he got back from Seaham—but not before Hermione got to me.

I take a long, satisfying drag and close my eyes as that particular memory washes over me.

Harry invited everyone to dinner. I didn't go. I had heard she was back. I told them I had to work. In all honesty, I was terrified. Did she tell him? Did he tell her? I was told by Luna later that night that they were engaged. So soon? I bought cigarette pack number one that night.

I had never thought this would happen. I was sure she was gone.

I was able to duck them easily for a week. I didn't see Harry very often anyway. I was in my flat, enjoying a glass of wine and picking out a movie when the there was a knock on the door.

I answered, and there stood a pleasant-looking Hermione.

I dropped my glass and red wine splashed everywhere, but neither of us took notice. Finally, Hermione waved her wand and the glass was repaired and the stains gone.

“May I come in?” She asked, still pleasant.

I stood aside, and gestured towards the living room. “I think I'm going to refresh my glass—can I get you one?” I asked, fighting the panic. My fingers itched for a cigarette.

“Please.” Hermione replied, taking a look around my flat. She had never been here before—it was new. “This is a nice place.”

I went into the kitchen and quickly lit one up and took a soothing drag. Calm down. One more, then I put it out, filled up two glasses, and heading back into my living room. I gave her her glass. “It's home.” I offered her cheers.

I drank deeply; she took a sip.

She closed her eyes as she enjoyed the taste. “Wine tends to get me in trouble.” Her voice was amused.

“Oh?” I responded, feigning interest.

She nodded. “The last time I had wine, a few weeks ago, it led to me and Harry fucking like rabbits. Funny how that happens. Alcohol…sometimes, it just solves everything.”

I pursed my lips at her vulgar description. Anger causes my knuckles to whiten as my grip on my glass tightens. “I'm sure that was fantastic.” I managed to say through clenched teeth. I knew of their hobby, but Hermione had never been so blatant about it before. There was no doubt in my mind that she said that on purpose to get under my skin. It worked.

“Oh it was. He takes you to new highs, really. Incredible lover.” Mirth was evident in her voice. “You missed dinner the other night.” Hermione said, walking around the couch, still surveying my flat.

I took another drink, and tried to get the image of Hermione and Harry having sex from my mind. “I had to work, but I got the play-by-play later. A congratulations is in order.”

“Yes, a congratulations is in order. Thank you.” She said. Her voice was light, and it was killing me. What was she thinking? Did she come here to taunt me? To tell me about her and Harry?

She obviously knew of my fabrications. They were tiny. I was vague. Really, she has no case.

Her eyes said differently. Her eyes accused me. I readied myself to deny it.

“You look good.” She said, eyeing my body appreciatively. “I've always been envious of your flat belly.” She said with a laugh before she took another sip of wine. “Always so flat. Seeing you pregnant someday is going to be interesting.”

I saw what she's doing. I played along. “A good work-out routine.”

We stood in silence. I felt uncomfortable, despite my surroundings. Hermione, on the other hand, looked completely at ease.

“It's good to have you back.” I had lied, the silence getting to me. “I'm sure Harry is ecstatic.”

Hermione shrugged. “For someone who moved on, he certainly missed me a lot. A lot. Took three days to let him let me out of the bedroom.”

My face grew hot. I had no words. I took a drink, a sweating Harry in my mind. A persuasive Harry, begging for her to stay without words, though his mouth was surely in use.

Disgusting.

No doubt sexy. Envy swirled in my stomach.

Silence again. She waited for me to say something.

I had nothing to say.

I waited. And waited.

I wanted to tell her I had things to get done. But I couldn't bring myself to be the one to break the silence.

“I've asked Luna to be the maid of honor—I hope you don't mind.” She said finally, still walking around.

“Of course!” I quickly interjected. “You two have always been so close. I wouldn't expect anything different. It's great.” My voice was falsely cheery.

Hermione bent down to examine a photograph on a shelf. I know that picture well. It's one of Harry and me, taken two years ago. Unlike most of my photos, it doesn't move. Frozen in time, big smiles for the camera Hermione was holding.

She picked up the picture for a closer look. “Yes. I figured the honor should go to someone deserving. Someone who wasn't a manipulative bitch. Luna…is a great candidate.”

Her voice was still light. Her stab at me was harsh.

I don't back down. “I suppose there is only enough room in the wedding party for one of those.” Thank you word vomit.

She laughed at my retort. Completely undeterred by my own insult. She finished her wine in one last swig. “This is very good wine.”

I was done with her games. “Surely you didn't come here to drink my wine.”

Hermione sat her glass down on the coffee table. “No, I didn't.” She closed in on me until we were only inches apart. Hermione leaned down so her lips were at my ear. She whispered quietly, “And this is real. Not some fantasy in an immature witch's head. We're getting married. We're having children. And we're living happily ever after. And Ginny,” her voice took on a new, fierce edge that made me shiver slightly, “This is good for him.” She repeated my words from weeks ago to her. Her words were low, dangerous. A clear warning. I watched as she twirled her wand through her fingers threateningly.

Ron didn't say a word, but the icy glare he gave me spoke volumes.

I apologized, and the three of us are on frosty terms. They invited me to the wedding—I think Hermione did it out of malice. She wanted me to sit here, front row, to witness this travesty. She and Luna even asked me for my opinion while planning the honeymoon. But I'm here, not to support, but to continue to play her game. No doubt she expected me to turn them down. I wanted to. I light up a second cigarette.

I'm not sorry, not really. I'm not sure if anyone would understand why I did what I did.

I love Harry. I may not love him as much as Hermione seems to, but I do. It isn't just in a romantic way—it's in a friendly caring way too.

When she hurt him…it was hard to watch, especially knowing I would never hurt him that way if he had ever given me a chance.

When I saw her that day, I panicked. What if she waltzes in and destroys him, just when he was happy again? Healing, but happy.

I couldn't bear to see that again. It broke my heart.

So I exaggerated some truths, just enough to keep her out. To give him a real chance to heal.

Maybe with me.

Maybe with someone else.

But not with that twisted bitch. Not with the one who had the power to hurt him like that, and didn't seem to have any trouble using it. He cared too much for her. It wasn't healthy.

I would never try to deliberately break them up. I do like to see him happy—even if it is with her. Before she left, I knew she wouldn't give him her everything. We had talked about it. I was willing to. I knew they wouldn't last because that's exactly what Harry needed—someone's everything.

Yes, I've always hoped for them to fail. I've even given a few suggested nudges.

But it's only because I care. It's only because I love him, and it tears me to pieces to see him hurt like that. When I found out Hermione wasn't planning on settling down with him, I knew it would destroy him. I nudged her to get it over with. Let him heal. Let him heal so he can be happy again.

With me. Take a drag.

With someone else. A second drag.

Not with her. I cough violently as my eyes water.

Not with the girl who can hurt him so much because he cares for her more than she deserves.

Everything I did, I did for him. I did it to help him heal.

No, my world doesn't revolve around him like hers does.

No, I'm not the one marrying him today.

No, I'm not the one he fell in love with.

But I still, and always will, have his best interests at heart.

If she hurts him again like that, I just might have to put a few bruises on that pretty little face.

I ain't the kind you take home to mama
I ain't the kind to wear no ring
Somehow I always get stronger
When I'm on my second drink

Even though I hate to admit it
Sometimes I smoke cigarettes
The Christian folks say I should quit it
And I just smile and say "god bless"

'Cause I heard Jesus he drank wine
And I bet we'd get along just fine
He could calm a storm and heal the blind
And I bet he'd understand a heart like mine

“A Heart Like Mine” MIRANDA LAMBERT

What did you guys think? Yes, even if it will bum me out—something I can learn from! Haha. I hope everyone got a better understanding of Ginny's actions here because I wasn't really trying to paint her as a terrible person. I dunno, tell me your thoughts!

PVRG: Major break-though while at work last night because I was trying to plan the next chapter, and I needed to figure out exactly where I wanted to go with the story as a whole before I wrote the next one. Got that figured out. I'll be working on it soon now that this story is finished (I think).

So please review, my birthday is coming up in a few days so it can be an early birthday present to me! Haha. Thanks for reading. I've really enjoyed you all. Keep a look out in case I do end up writing one more chapter.

THANKS!

Until next round—

*~Archie~*

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Hello everyone! Okay, here's the FINAL chapter—hopefully this time anyway—of my story Outlet. I know some of you would have liked to see more of a Harry/Hermione ending, so here you go. However, I really liked it ending ambiguously (to a point), so hopefully this will be enough to satisfy! I'd been planning the second Harry flashback from the beginning, and thought I wasn't going to be able to use it! So naturally, I was excited to be able to.

As always, nothing is mine!

CHAPTER ELEVEN: COULD NOT ASK FOR MORE

Lying here with you
Listenin' to the rain
Smilin just to see
the smile upon your face

These are the moments
I thank god that I'm alive
These are the moments I remember all my life
I've found all I've waited for
And I could not ask for more

Looking in your eyes
Seein' all I need
Everything you are
Is everything to me

These are the moments
I know heaven must exist
These are the moments
I know all I need is this
I've found all I've waited for
And I could not ask for more

I could not ask for more than this time together
Could not ask for more than this time with you
And Every prayer has been answered
Every dream I've had's come true
I've found all I've waited for
And I could not ask for more

“Could Not Ask For More” SARA EVANS

The snow is cold, but we don't move. Why were we lying out here in the snow in the first place? A shiver runs down my back. Harry pulls me closer to him, but it doesn't help. I don't pull back though—why would I ever not want to be this close to him?

The sun in blinding as it reflects off the snow. Harry's eyes are closed in deep contentment, blocking out the offensive light. I try to close mine as well, but it still hurts my eyes. I want to ask him how long he wants to lay out here, but I don't.

Because part of me—the part that doesn't care that I'm freezing and blind—doesn't want to move. That part always wins with me. It's the part that I've given to him, no longer putting my own interests first.

We're silent. I wonder what he's thinking. I can usually tell, but right now, I can't. It isn't hard to guess the direction of his thoughts, however.

The war. Of course he's still consumed by thoughts of the war—the lives we lost, the lives we stole, the sense of security the Wizarding World is trying to gain back with difficulty with him at the center.

It's been six months, and we are still rebuilding.

“What do you think our future holds?” Harry asks suddenly, his eyes still closed.

I'm caught off guard. Unsure of what he wants to hear—of what I want to say for that matter, I begin slowly, “I'm not sure…but it has to be better than the past, doesn't it?” I don't know if it's a question or a statement.

He smiles a sad smile, still not looking at me while I stare intently at his face, his cheeks rosy from the cold. “I suppose. Do you think we'll ever, I dunno, bounce back from this? It's like…I've been battling Voldemort since I was eleven—or just a baby if you want to count that. It's hard to believe it's really over. I guess I feel like…like now, I don't know what to do with myself.”

I listen to his concerns without offering advice. Sometimes, that's exactly what a person needs—just someone to voice their thoughts to, and not have them telling them what they think they should do. “What do you want to do?” I try to coax him, wondering the answer myself.

I feel him shrug. “Does it matter? When have I ever had the liberty to do what I want to do?” I don't miss the slight edge in his voice.

My eyes fly open and I turn my body so I am hovering over his. He feels my stare, but doesn't open his eyes. His words irritate me—as if he's bound to live a life he doesn't want, and there's nothing he can do about it.

He deserves his happiness—more than anyone. I scoop up a handful of snow in my frustration and throw it on his face.

His body jerks up into a sitting position as he tries to get the snow from his face. “What the hell, Hermione?” He asks, clearly aggravated by my unsuspecting assault.

I scramble to my feet and stand over him angrily. “What makes you think you don't get to be happy?” I ask, frustrated. “Now that you're free from everything…why shouldn't you be able to do what you want to do? The war is over, Harry, over. Why can't you see that?” Why did he always have to do this? Sacrifice his own happiness for everyone else? Why did he feel bound to do this? It pisses me off to no end.

His temper starts to flare. “I'm well-aware that it's over, Hermione.” His voice is hard, as are his eyes.

I set my jaw stubbornly as we glare at each other. “Then what are you going to do about it?” I shoot back defiantly. “Continue to prance around like their personal pet even though you hate it?” I refer to how he attends every ceremony asked of him, to show his support for the rebuild, to give the Wizarding World a face to believe in—even when he doesn't believe it himself. Normality. He is trying to show everyone he is moving on, so they can to. Ribbon cutting ceremonies. Balls. Radio interviews.

And he hated it. He hated it because he felt there were worthier people to take this place. There were worthier people…who can't because they didn't survive.

I know he feels almost selfish because he hates the spotlight. I know he wants privacy.

My words stun him, but only for a second. “I'm helping them, Hermione.

The words are out of my mouth before I can stop them. “You are their puppet, Harry. They aren't worth it.”

My words hang in the air.

An incredulous look takes over his eyes. “They aren't worth it, Hermione? This is my world—your world! The people we belong to. How can you turn your back on them?”

My teeth are clenched. “They had no problem turning their back on you.”

Harry slowly gets to his feet. “This isn't about me.”

“Everything is about you, when it comes to me.” I tell him, my voice softening now.

My words melt his cold exterior. I can see this little row is over as his eyes look defeated. How could he argue when he feels the same way about me? “What do you want for your future?” He asks suddenly, taking my hand pulling me back to the ground as he stems back to his original question.

I shrug, still not cooled off quite yet.

“Do you think we'll get married and have kids and a white picket fence and the whole deal?” He asks with a laugh.

I can't help it—his vision makes me laugh. “Not the white picket fence. I don't think we'll ever get to be that normal…maybe a nice rusty red one or something though that's falling apart.”

Harry squeezes my hand. “Not the white picket fence,” he repeats with a small grin.

That night had been his last radio interview.

It is just beginning. The wedding. The starting line to the journey we are about to embark on with each other in a whole new way. As I stare at my reflection in the mirror, everything feels…right. Perfect.

It is just the beginning. It's the beginning of us being bound to each other for good—with no question. In a sense, I feel like I've been bound to him since I was eleven. But this is different. We will be married. We will have a concrete future—something we've never let ourselves ever fathom getting lucky enough to survive to have. Even after the war, leading a normal life, one with all the appropriate twists and pit stops, one with a full bout of happiness…it still always felt out of reach. But here we are.

And now, it is out there for everyone to see. No shame, no guilt. Just love.

Nothing is perfect. Everything is wrong. The clouds are rumbling in a distance, but we are determined to have this outside. Harry always wanted an outdoor wedding.

My mother is panicking over the wrong flowers—these aren't tulips! My father is upset with the seating arrangement because he had ordered more chairs than this—hadn't he?! Why were people standing!? Why were people gathered across what looked like some invisible, imaginary line—watching the ceremony from afar?

Apparently Harry Potter getting married is a big deal. There are several people I don't recognize, and I know there is no way they were on the guest list. Therefore, they don't actually get in to the ceremony. Watching from a distance is the best they can get.

Mrs. Weasley is fretting over the food—did she make enough!? Ron is grumbling about the rain clouds—we aren't really going to be sitting in the bloody rain, are we!?

My grandmother asked me if I was sure I got a big enough dress—it's looking a little tight, dear, particularly in the middle..? No I'm not pregnant, Grandma, I just have a slight belly. Thanks for reminding me.

I know Harry has been harassed as well. I know he and Ron have physically thrown out at least two guests that have made comments about his bland bride.

It doesn't bother me. I feel confident. Radiant. Perfect. Today, nothing can touch me.

Because it's the beginning. The beginning of my new life full of love—lasting, forever love. Of having children with the man I love more than anything. It's the beginning of creating new family traditions. A new beginning to having bills we can't pay and going to jobs that we hate. A new beginning to fighting worse than ever, countless arguments that will no doubt lead to possible doubts of us, and make-ups that will last well into the night, reminding us of everything we have together. It's the beginning of everything I've ever wanted, and am ready to take.

Nothing can touch me. Not today, not ever.

* * *

The rain is warm on my face as I stand at the altar and wait for my bride. A large canopy is protecting the guests from the offending water. I don't mind it. I love the rain. It feels like it brings a new beginning—new possibilities. And today is a new beginning. A new beginning with her—the woman who saved me from myself more times than I can count. The woman I love, and have never given up on. A thousand times before I have dreamed of this moment. Of this new beginning Hermione has helped me to—it certainly hasn't been the first time she helped me jumpstart my life.

This was it. This was my last tribute to the Wizarding World. Though I didn't exactly share Hermione's cynical feelings towards the Wizarding World, she helped me see dwelling on the war isn't going to help me move forward.

And for once in my life, I need to move forward above anything else. I can't live the way I've been living. I deserve happiness. It's not that I don't want to help the Wizarding World—I can't fully explain, despite the many years of hardships I've had to endure, the life it has given me. How can I proper thank the world that saved me from a cupboard under the stairs when I was eleven?

But I need to move on. Being their puppet was no longer an option. I need to take charge of my own life, and figure out what I want to do.

I fought for everyone else—perhaps part of that fight was for my own future as well. That isn't too selfish, is it?

I take a deep breath and take my seat beside Sonia Whizgambit, someone important in the WWN. I didn't listen to her credentials fully.

She asks me questions I've had answers to for the last few months. Yes, of course I'm glad the war is over. Yes, I completely understand the difficulty in rebuilding the Wizarding—and Muggle—community, but I fully believe that as long as we stick together, we can come back strong.

“In my experience,” I say into the microphone, “I've never felt stronger than when I saw everyone working together, as one. Even while on my own assignment with Ron and Hermione, the bond that we had—still have—is what kept me alive. It gave us hope, and something worth fighting for.”

No, I don't know my future plans. Right now, I'm looking at an easy, boring job at the Ministry—just for the time being while I get my life in order. I may be ready for Auror training next spring.

The questions were monotonous. I've answered them all before.

“Yes, this is going to be my last interview. I understand the Wizarding World needs someone to bring them together—I'm not trying to abandon the world I love by any means. But right now…I just really need to work on myself and figure out what I want. I think it's important that we try to move on. There were so many lost—let's not make those losses in vain.” I tell them with a sad smile as my mind automatically flips through lives important to me that were no longer with us.

“One last final question, Mr. Potter. I can fully empathize the positive and negative attention you have received from the very community you, along with many others as you always insist, put your lives on the line to save. There had to be moments of doubt. You're only human, after all.” The older lady smiled as if it was a private joke between us. “Tell me…what one thing kept you going, even when you didn't have any fight left in you?”

I'd never been asked this exact question. I could only pick one thing? My mind played over various key points of help I'd received, but the second I looked up, the answer was easy and sitting right in front of me in a chair against the opposite wall. Our eyes met, as usual, I was mesmerized by her. She was here, like she always was despite her disdain about the Wizard World using me. Always right there with me. Usually against her better judgment. Often putting her life at risk. More than once putting me above any and everything else in her life.

How could I ever pay her back for putting up with me? I had no idea. But at that moment, I knew I would spend the rest of my life doing whatever I could.

Not because I felt like I should—I did.

Not because it was the right thing to do—it was.

Not because she deserved it more than anyone—she did.

No, for once, it was because I selfishly wanted to, and Hermione said I deserved to have everything I wanted—so I would.

Finally, I look back at Sonia, who was still expecting an answer.

I give her a small smile and clear my throat, knowing no one would understand exactly what I mean—maybe not even her, though I like to think she will. “Love.”

Can you help me out, can you lend me a hand?
It's safe to say that I'm stuck again
Trapped between this life and the light
I just can't figure out, how to make it right...

A thousand times before
I've wondered if there's something more... something more...

I feel it's gonna rain like this for days
So let it rain down and wash everything away
I hope that tomorrow the sun will shine
With every tomorrow comes another life...

I feel it's gonna rain, for days and days
(I feel it's gonna rain)
I tried to figure out, I can't understand...
What it means... to be whole again...
Trapped between the truth and the consequence
Nothing's real, nothing's making sense...

A thousand times before
I've wondered if there's something more... something more...

I feel it's gonna rain like this for days
So let it rain down and wash everything away
I hope that tomorrow the sun will shine
I feel it's going to rain like this... rain like this... rain like this...

Fall down, wash away my yesterdays
Fall down, so let the rain fall down on me

“Rain” CREED

Well, what did you guys think? Please review and let me know! I also just posted another one-shot called “A Tribute To My Own State Of Ruin” (It's better than it sounds—I promise!) so everyone should check that one out too!

I just want to thank all those who have given me lots of support with this story—I really really appreciate it. And all of your wonderful reviews have made my day. Thank you!

Until next time,

*~Archie~*

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