Disclaimer: For cryin' out loud, how many times do I have to tell you? Oh, every time? Well, okay then. I still don't own this. And you should continue with the not suing.
Thanks again to my Portkey reviewers - it's so nice of you to care about my little ol' story. Soon, this will be caught up to ff.net. One more chapter. . .
I swear, I was going to leave this as it is. I really was. But the reviews I have gotten asked me to write some more and I'm nothing if not accommodating… As Meowie is my witness, I will not sleep until I have at least a thousand words. *raises coffee mug*
(Never doubt a vow taken on a cat.)
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"if you go a million miles away, I will track you down, trust me when I say I know the pathway to your heart"
-r.e.m., "superman"
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How, Hermione wondered to herself, could Harry be single? Harry was the Boy Who Bloody Lived. Right before she'd left, he had been forced into taking his N.E.W.T.s in a dank room of the Leaky Cauldron because his fan club wouldn't leave him alone. He hadn't been able to step foot outside a specially appointed set of rooms while he recovered from the final battle. She had assisted in triple warding them herself before they'd realized who she was and she had been forced to run from the barrage of questions. She silently laughed. She'd taken personal delight in keeping Harry's horde of admirers and wistful nursemaids from bothering him. And his Quidditch career, even though he had put it off, certainly didn't allow for fading into the distance. Sometimes the Daily Prophet fairly screamed about his latest achievements. Come to think of it, though, she hadn't seen him on the society pages much lately. Sneaking a peek over at him, letting Ron's voice wash over her in the chatter that had ensued after her invitation, she realized that he'd grown thinner. Maybe it was all that Quidditch training. He looked like he could use some sleep, too. When he looked up at her, she realized that they were both looking at her like something was expected. Had she missed something? Best take a listen, she thought to herself, as she schooled her face into a thoughtful expression. . . Lucky for her, sweet Ron was still as oblivious as ever when it came to these things and assumed she was shocked. She wasn't about to confess that she'd learned to tune him out fifth year and he still had yet to catch on.
"I know, 'Mione! Mal-foy. Draco-sodding-Malfoy! My little sister is dating that wanker! They're planning on moving in together after she graduates. Mum's about to toss Ginny into a. . .what's that place they throw those women who aren't allowed to. . .well, get their oats? You know. Either way, it's rubbish and I'll AK him if he does anything awful to my sister." He sat back with a defiant flourish.
"Ron! Language! And, furthermore, that's not something you should say so easily, considering. . .well, considering. And it's a convent." Hermione sat back, mimicking Ron's gesture, only with a prim fashion that was pure vintage Hermione. "Besides, your sister is of age. She can legally do whatever she wants. In both worlds now, I believe."
Ron sputtered for a moment. "But. . .but! Not with Malfoy, she can't!"
"Mate, she's going to do it even more happily if she knows you disapprove this much." Harry, surprisingly, came up with this pearl of wisdom. "Besides, she looks like she's happy to begin with. Don't want to encourage her further in carrying on with her life."
Hermione was surprised at Harry's callous treatment of the matter, but when he looked up at her and winked, jerking his head to where Ron was turning a lovely shade of fuchsia, indicating that he was winding their other best friend up, she couldn't help but giggle into her wineglass. Looking up at Ron, who had gotten up and started pacing in front of her large living room window, she smiled, thinking that not much had actually changed in nine years. When her glance went back to Harry, though, who was smiling at her in a vague sort of fashion, she had to wonder if perhaps she was wrong. Setting her glass down, she leaned forward.
"Harry? Are you okay?" Ron stopped pacing when he heard Hermione's soft question and looked at Harry, almost as if he were just as interested in the answer.
Harry's eyes fairly glowed. "I am, Hermione. I'm okay. Today's a good day." He gestured around her living room with a wineglass. "I know. . .well, I know we said it earlier, but we missed you. It's good to be back with you. I was just thinking of how good it is to have the trio back together again." He grinned at the use of the simple moniker they had used for their dynamic before his face grew thoughtful again.
The room cheerful atmosphere suddenly seemed to shift into a weighty sort of contemplation. Ron and Harry were looking at her again, Hermione realized, in that manner that indicated she was expected to say something here. Honestly, she wasn't quite sure what to tell them. She'd vented all her frustration on them earlier and right now, she realized, her reasons were a little small. There was no reason for her to cut them off completely. Maybe, she deducted, she had been a little selfish. It wouldn't have killed her to have the Floo Network connected. On the other hand, the part of her that had grown up so much during the past year showed that maybe it hadn't been such a bad idea. She'd had valuable time to develop herself, Hermione, as opposed to helping Harry and Ron along. It was the mature thing to do, she had decided then, and she still felt that way. The three of them had gotten a chance to decide what they were on their own, as opposed to doing something that all three of them could do, but might have regretted. The tricky part, she mused, was putting all this into words. She had to try, though, and hope that maybe they'd done a little maturing over the last year, as well.
"Harry. Ron." She held a hand out to both of them. "You two are part of me. You used to be as much a part of me as I am. And that. . .that isn't how it should be. I needed room to find out who I was. I had to have some space to be Hermione instead of Harry, Ron and Hermione."
Harry interrupted her at this point. "Hermione, we never saw you that way. You've always been Hermione to us."
"But, Harry," here Hermione looked at him beseechingly, almost as if she were begging him to understand, "I wasn't to anyone else. Everyone saw me as just an extension of you two. And I know there are some people who see you as the same, only as puppets of myself."
"Oi, Hermione, so? We're a team, that's all they need to know. Why'd you have to skive off, though?" Ron had interrupted here.
"'Skive'? I 'skived off'?" This time it was Hermione who was turning an alarming shade of red. "Ronald Weasley, I do think you're using that in the wrong context. I did my duty. As did the two of you. But I wasn't happy with all the fuss afterwards. I didn't do any of that so I could get my picture in the Daily Prophet, you know!" Hermione's voice was reaching that high register that she noticed it only seemed to hit when Ron Weasley was involved. The two of them were standing now, facing each other down like so many times in the Common Room, but this time Harry stopped them instead of letting them have it out.
"Well," Harry said around the chuckles that were begging to escape, "the two of you are certainly back to normal."
"No, Harry, don't. I think there are definitely some things that need said," Hermione stated seriously, her voice returning to its earlier levels as she sank into her chair, "and I intend to say them." Turning to Ron, she went on. "Frankly, Ron, let me tell you this in the simplest possible way. I needed to be a young adult. I needed to not be clucking after you two. I needed to go live my life as something other than one of the saviors of the wizarding world. I just. . .I just couldn't deal with it. I wanted to hide from all that attention and just be myself."
"Hermione, we would've helped you." Ron's voice was blunt. "You know we would've done whatever you bloody wanted, hid you away if that's what you needed. I still don't understand why. . ."
"Ron! I needed this. Look around!" Hermione waved around the apartment. "My apartment isn't even warded!" Ron snorted at this and Harry looked concerned, but she continued resolutely. "I've been living here a year and not once have I needed it. No paparazzi snapping pictures. No leftover Death Eaters. Just me and my work and my life."
"Yes, just you. But it hasn't been just you for years, we've always been a team. What you do, we do." Harry pointed out and Hermione jumped out of her chair.
"That's exactly it! Oh, Harry, Harry, that's exactly what I was talking about! We've always been a team, at least until seventh year." Both boys looked a little awkward at that statement. "Ever since I was 11, I've been with you two. We got so co-dependent on each other that I wasn't sure who I was. Before this year, I would've rather died than be apart from you this long." She stopped at Ron's questioning look and held his gaze for a minute as he slid his eyes over to Harry and raised one russet eyebrow. "Both of you. Ron, you're like a brother and Harry, you're. . ." she trailed off thoughtfully and then continued in a rush as she realized her mistake. "Then, our last year at Hogwarts, I worked so hard on the potion for the final battle that I didn't have time to be sure of anything. I needed to rest, I needed to find out who I was and, to do so, I felt like I needed to do it on my own, without you two defining me. Besides, I felt like the two of you had abandoned me anyway, seventh year, and that hurt so much. I didn't think it would matter that much if I left."
Ron set down the magazine he had been turning over in his hands after he sat down and looked over at her guiltily. "About that, 'Mione, I'm sorry." He looked over at Harry, and seeing the stricken look on his friend's face at the girl they both loved and her obvious distress, amended it. "We're so sorry. If we had known that this would happen, we would've helped you more."
Hermione sighed. "Ron, you shouldn't have had to have been asked. You should've helped me more anyway. But, then again, I'd always found these solutions by myself, haven't I? I've always given of myself, and I've always enjoyed it. I wanted to help Harry and all of us without disturbing anything or anyone. Why change?" Not bothering waiting for a response, she simply continued speaking. "But I nearly killed myself finding the answer that time. I went into the hospital wing three times. I didn't want to have to ask you for help, and by the time I did, you two were busy with other things." Her traitorous voice had started to quiver at the last bit.
"Hermione, you didn't tell us how serious the situation was." Harry stood up in a sudden burst of motion, both hands shoved into the bottom of his pockets. "You should've told us! Dammit, Hermione, it's okay! Everyone needs help sometimes, all you had to do was tell us what was happening to you. Albus didn't tell us exactly what had happened that year until you had left. Wouldn't tell us where you went, either." He paused here, looking annoyed for a moment before shaking his head and walking over to Hermione's chair. "Anything, anything at all you need, Hermione, and you always have help. You had it then and," he crouched next to her chair, putting a hand on top of the one she had resting on the arm of her chair, "you have it now." Feeling her hand under his, Harry was amused. Her hands were so small. It was easy to forget just what they had done, what they were capable of.
Looking at her as she fought for control of her emotions, he realized that all of her was small. He felt a sudden surge of guilt at not finding her sooner. He'd searched alright, but Hermione, while she hadn't warded her door, had cast personal wards. And when a witch as powerful as Hermione didn't want to be found, it wasn't easy. It had taken enormous amounts of power to cast the tracking charm he had, the one that had finally broken through her concealment. Meeting her dark brown eyes, he wondered if it would do any good. The goal of this was to bring Hermione back to their world, or at least get a standing invitation into hers. He hadn't told Ron, but he had missed Hermione in a way that he was sure, he hoped, his other best friend hadn't. Unknowingly echoing Ron's earlier thought, he was dismayed it had taken a year and an ocean to make him realize how he felt about their other third.
"But. . ." her voice was just a whisper, "it didn't feel that way. I felt so alone."
Harry sighed and Ron looked at the two of them with a shrewd eye that people rarely suspected he possessed. He had realized a few minutes ago that they weren't going to get much more out of Hermione. She was emotionally exhausted. Anyway, he had recognized this excursion of Hermione's as what his mother would simply call a growing pain. All they could do, honestly, at this point, was try to get over it. Besides, he kind of saw her point. He didn't see why she had to have it all the bloody way over here, but he'd had his own bit of rebellion fourth year. Hermione was just a little slow when it came to those things. In the meantime, though, he was knackered. He was willing to bet Harry was, too. It was ten o'clock here in the States, which meant it was. . .well, late at home. Ron calculated his next action carefully. Harry was still stroking Hermione's hand and Hermione was looking at where their two hands were sitting together. Crackers, these two were. Everyone knew the hero got the girl, right? Or maybe in this case, the hero got the Quidditch player. He wasn't sure. He was definitely glad he'd starting carrying on with Lavender, though. Made things right easy, that did. He'd never had quite the grief he was observing. Would continue observing, he thought, if he didn't do something. He only hoped his plan wasn't too horribly up front about it. Then again, if the situation itself were any indication, he didn't have to worry about these two finding anything too obvious.
Standing up, Ron stretched and yawned loudly. "'Mione, you look tired." She gave a ghost of her normal smile, since it was Ron that was yawning.
"Ron, I'm a music writer, I'm used to staying up late. Researching and whatnot." Harry and Ron both smirked a bit at this.
"Fancy that." Ron dryly muttered before continuing on in a louder voice, oblivious to Hermione's scathing look. "I'm tired."
"I can see why. There's quite a difference in times. It's four a.m. in England. You two must be exhausted." Suddenly, Hermione slid her hand out from under Harry's and became all bustling motion as she grabbed her wand and moved towards a hallway that led, apparently, to the bedrooms. Ron found it scarily reminiscent of his mother.
Harry cleared his throat. "Actually, Hermione, I'll stay up with you for a few more minutes." He missed the smirk on Ron's face and Hermione was out of the room, much to his relief. Harry had learned to be very observant over the years. There wasn't much his bespectacled green eyes missed and Ron was surprised that he hadn't received a frown for his troubles.
"Well, okay, Harry," came Hermione's strangely disembodied voice, "but if you're tired, I don't mind. I'll probably be in bed in an hour anyway. I'll have another bed in here in a second."
"Right, a second." Ron whispered as he grabbed his best friend by the shoulders, much to Harry's surprise. "Look, Harry, I know."
Harry looked around before meeting Ron's gaze. "Know what?"
"I know. How you feel," Ron waved towards the hallway where Hermione's footsteps could be heard returning, "about 'Mione. Do it. You both need this."
"Ron? Where are you? I thought you followed me back here?" Hermione could be heard approaching the living room. Ron threw a complex series of hand and facial signals at his best friend before his other best friend came in, a worried look on her features. "Harry, seriously, though, it's okay if you're tired."
"Actually, Hermione, I had to ask Harry if he'd brought a change of clothes with him. I know I didn't. And Harry slept late today, to make sure he wouldn't be too tired while we were finding you." Ron looked innocently at Hermione.
Hermione looked at him for a minute before grabbing a box of tissue. "Oh, of course. Long distance tracking is exhausting. Anyway, I'll transfigure these into some pajamas for the two of you and put them back here." And off she went again, just as Ron had intended. It was clear, he thought, she hadn't been around. Normally she would've known something was up immediately. Briefly he wondered what else he could pull over on her while they were here.
Shaking his head resolutely, he instead, simply took the time he had amazingly been gifted with, he turned back to Harry. "Harry, it's okay. You have to try."
"Ron, mate, what if she doesn't feel the same way?" Harry looked slightly startled. "And how can you tell?"
"She does and I just can. Blimey, Harry, I'm not sure how you two have stayed apart this long, but I have to go. Use the time wisely, my son." Wiggling his eyebrows at Harry, he walked down the hallway towards where Hermione had gone, leaving the Boy Who Lived to wonder how he was going to confess to being the Boy Who Loved, as well. Wrinkling his nose, he wondered if he had read that somewhere. Talk about too much press. Maybe he was starting to believe his own. His thoughts were interrupted by Hermione's returning footsteps.
Moment of truth, he thought to himself, as Hermione came in. She was still wearing her yellow outfit, he noticed, and she looked beautiful. She had paused, though, in the archway that led into the living room and was looking at him in a most confusing manner.
"Harry, I. . ."
"Hermione. . ."
Obviously, he thought, Ron might be right. Perhaps there were some things to be said on both their parts. He watched as she settled into the armchair she seemed to favor and he moved towards the couch. They looked across the coffee table and, with a wave, Hermione indicated that he could go first.
"Hermione, there was a reason I put off starting this year."
"Oh?"
This was going to be harder than he thought.