31 July 2001
Hermione woke, blinking the sleep from her eyes as her wand chimed from the nightstand and Crookshanks pawed at her chest. She sighed and reached for her wand, canceling the charm as she swung her legs over the side of the bed. She stretched, raising her hands up over her head, her back arching as it popped. The morning sun shone through the window of the master bedroom at Grimmauld place where she had fallen asleep the night before, as she did on the nights when she missed Harry too much to sleep in her own flat alone. The night before his birthday certainly counted among them.
A pang went through her, right to her heart where his absence left a gaping hole, a void that nothing filled. Not work, not wine, not random wizards she attempted to date. Nothing ever helped; nothing could compare to having him nearby to reach for with her hand, knowing he'd take it and intertwine their fingers. She truly did not want to go to work today, on his birthday, and face the lights in the bewildering maze of hallways or the faces of people she didn't care to talk to, but she had a strategy meeting with Kinglsey on the proposal for elf rights that she was hoping to get passed at the next Wizengamot session in August.
She dressed in her white blouse, black pencil skirt, and heels, with a blue robe thrown over it all and fed Crookshanks. Approaching the floo, she added a mild sticking charm to her hair and brushed it back behind her ear. It would fail later, she knew, but she didn’t have time to potion it. She had arrived at Grimmauld late last night, after abandoning yet another date and going to her parents’ house where she complained about life over a few glasses of wine with her mum.
Her heels clicked against the dark tiles of the Ministry atrium when she stepped out of the floo and made her way to the lift. It carried her to level two, where the lift opened and she stepped out. The DMLE was simple, depending on where one wanted to go. The lift opened into a hallway with doors lining both sides. At the end of the hallway and around the right corner was a set of heavy oak doors that opened into the Auror Headquarters, with its large room subdivided into cubicles. In the left corner was a hallway that led to the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts offices. Hermione herself took the third door on the right, into another hallway with magical lights shining down on her from the ceiling that burned her eyes and made her head throb through every twist and turn it took to get to her office, passing different people on the way who almost seemed to want to stop and talk to her, but the look on her face must have turned them away.
Hermione made it to her office, the gold label reading ‘HERMIONE GRANGER, JR. PROSECUTOR’ greeting her as it always did. The wards that kept her office locked in her absence recognized her magical signature as her hand wrapped around the handle and the door gave way. She walked into the office and sighed at the organized mess of parchment that awaited her. Her purse sat on the desk and she took her seat, resting her head back against the comfort-charmed leather and digging the heels of her palms into her eyes.
There was a knock on her door for barely a moment before it opened, admitting Natalie Simpson, her only sort-of friend in the DMLE and likely the only person she could talk to today without wanting to die.
“What is it, Natalie?” she asked, her eyes still closed against the lights of her office. She heard one of the chair legs hit the desk and rightly assumed Natalie had sat down, then the thud sound of a binder, filled to bursting with parchment, was dropped onto the dark oak desk.
“I’m just going to take a guess and say that your date last night didn’t go well?” Natalie asked hesitantly.
Hermione huffed, blowing hot air out of her nostrils.
“No. No, it didn’t go well at all. What is it with all of the halfarse wizards in this country who think they can get into my knickers just by telling me how smart they think I am or how well they can fly a broom, as if I care? I ended up leaving halfway through dinner and went to my parents’ house to cry to my mum over a bottle of wine. I was late getting to - home and so I’m running on almost no sleep and I’ve got a bloody hell of a hangover and no potion.”
“I’ve got you covered there.” Hermione could hear the rustling of paper and clinking of bottles and other items as Natalie rummaged around in her own purse. Natalie had been a surprise friend once Hermione graduated from Hogwarts and joined the DMLE as a Junior Prosecutor. They clicked, Hermione supposed. They were equally intelligent and ambitious, with a strong head for justice and a stubborn streak. “One hangover potion, all yours.”
Hermione opened her eyes as she heard the thud of a small glass bottle hitting the desk. She squinted against the antagonizing lights in her office and curled her hand around the bottle, pulling the stopper free with the other hand. The glass was cool against her lips, but the potion inside was warm only got more so as it went down her throat and settled into her stomach to burn away the alcohol and hydrate her, clearing the hangover as steam poured out of her ears.
“Thank you,” Hermione sighed in relief. “You’re a lifesaver, Natalie.”
“Oh, don’t worry about it. And how many times have I told you, call me Nat. We’re friends, right? I just saw the date this morning and figured you might be having a rough go of it”
“It’s fine, honestly, It’s been three years.”
“Hermione,” Natalie said hesitantly. “Look. I know you wanna pretend every other day of the year that you didn’t let the love of your life move to Rome where he subsequently went undercover with the ICW, but it’s his birthday today and I know you’re not going to get anything done, just like last year and the year before.”
That was more true than Hermione wanted to admit. While she had gone back to Hogwarts for her eighth year, Harry had moved to Rome to take a job with the ICW Hit Wizards. For a time they had kept up with letters and floo calls, but Harry was busy with training and healing from the war, and she was busy with studying for her NEWTs, and eventually he had taken an undercover assignment. The last time she had seen Harry was the morning that his portkey had taken him to Rome, when they said goodbye in the sitting room at Grimmauld Place. Every year since then, his birthday would come, and she would be lost in her own head, wondering why she hadn’t figured it out sooner and asked him to stay, or gone with him even. If she had known she loved him before he left, could she have done that to him? Give him that kind of ultimatum? She hated herself for even thinking about it.
“Are you still here, Hermione?”
She opened her eyes, unaware that she had closed them, and saw Natalie looking at her with concern that she didn’t bother trying to hide.
“Yeah, I’m still here. Listen, I’ve got to get some work done before my meeting with the Minister.”
Hermione glanced toward her inbox, where airplanes made of parchment had settled as flat pieces with notes and information scribbled onto them. The one top was marked urgent from the Department of Mysteries.
“Okay. Listen, after your meeting, let’s go out, get a drink.”
“I can’t. I’ve got my own ritual for today and it’s not fun, but I’ll feel like shite if I don’t do it.”
“All right, then I’ll join you. It’s honestly a travesty for you to be alone today, pining for the love of your life like some woman out of some tragedy.”
“Natalie, I’m going to leave the Ministry, go to the bakery, get a chocolate cake with sprinkles, and eat it on my sofa while I drink wine and think about all the mistakes I made in my life.”
Natalie smiled, reaching across the desk to squeeze Hermione’s hand in a comforting gesture. “Right, see. A tragedy. I’ll come with you. We’ll drink in Harry Potter’s honor and eat cake in his absence.”
“Not his honor,” Hermione cringed. “He would hate that. It’s just the last thing we ate before he left to go on his missions and it helps.”
“If you say so. We’ll drink to his memory then and the way our loins long to feel him!” Natalie cheered, laughing as she stood from the chair. It brought a small smile to Hermione’s face, and she waved goodbye as the door shut behind the tan blonde. She scooted her chair forward and pulled the letters from her inbox as she attempted to get at least a little bit of work done.
The DoM one wasn’t really urgent, just an update to the case’s research. Jonathan Tracker had murdered three muggles months ago with an unknown spell. The Unspeakables in the DoM had been doing research to identify the spell so Hermione could update the case notes against Tracker. The Aurors – the other arm of the DMLE – would have gotten a copy as well. Since Tracker had already been prosecuted, tried, and sent to Azkaban, it wasn’t urgent. He would stay in Azkaban no matter what, unless something insane happened like the spell turned out to be harmless, which, judging by the Unspeakable notes, wasn’t the case. The DoCR letter was just a reply to Hermione about her inquiry into protecting the unicorns in the Forbidden Forest at Hogwarts. She’d had tea with Hagrid last week and he had mentioned the unicorns getting sick and dying, so she’d reached out to see what could be done to help them. The DoCR would be sending someone out to look into it and hopefully cure the unicorns. The letter from Misuse of Muggle Artifacts was just the head letting her know that she would be submitting charges if Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes got any braver in their attempts at new products. Hermione had told Ron and George plenty of times that they wouldn’t get slack from her if charges were brought, so Hermione shrugged and set the letter in the burn tray where it disintegrated to nothing.
She settled in to do paperwork, going over their active cases and updating them with notes from the Aurors, but her mind was far away, thinking about Harry and how things might have been different if it hadn’t taken him being a thousand miles away and unreachable for her to realize what he really meant to her.
10 August 1998
Hermione sat across from Harry in a little Indian restaurant not far from Grimmauld Place. Their occasional meetings for lunch, just the two of them, were some of her favorite days. It was nice to just sit and relax with him between preparing for the school year and helping in the rebuilding of Hogwarts. She hadn’t seen him in two weeks, however, and that was bothering her. Usually, they met up once a week at least, to get lunch and just chat, or sit around in silence, enjoying each other’s company. The closeness they found during their time alone on the hunt hadn’t dissipated, in fact, it only grew stronger. Being alone with Harry felt natural in a way that being alone with Ron didn’t, but she didn’t let herself dwell on it.
“So,” Harry said into the silence, setting his fork down to clink against the tabletop. “I accepted a job with the ICW.”
Hermione blinked and cocked her head, as if she hadn’t heard him right.
“The ICW? As in the International Confederation of Wizards, in Rome?”
“The very same.”
“You’re leaving?” Tears welled in her eyes and she didn’t even know why. Harry being gone was….not something she had been prepared for. Harry was always there, taking her hand when she reached for him as if to make sure he was still alive. The image of him limp and dead in Hagrid’s arms would never leave her, she thought. It would always haunt her nightmares.
“Yeah.” He reached across the table and took her hand in his, drawing circles over the back of it with his thumb. “I’ll be leaving for Rome in a week.”
Hermione took a shaky breath, telling herself this was good for Harry, that she should be excited for him.
“I thought you were going to join the Aurors,” she said quietly.
“I was. But these last two weeks I’ve had some meetings with the ICW. The training they offer is incredible, and they’ll pay for all of my healing. Apparently there’s a lot wrong with me, according to one of their healers.”
“How long will you be gone? Will you be able to write? Floo call? Visit? Can I visit you?”
He chuckled and squeezed her hand. “I’ll write and floo call as I can. I imagine I’ll be pretty busy with training and you’ll be busy with school, but we’ll make it work. You’re not gonna get away from me that easily, Granger.”
“As if I want to get away from you,” she laughed.
She blinked away the tear that formed in the corner of her eye, staring down at their hands. His fingers intertwined with hers, already feeling like something was missing. He would be away in Rome, doing who knew what. She would be in Scotland, studying for her NEWTs. He wouldn’t be around for lunch, or Hogsmeade visits. Owls would take a few days to carry a letter whenever either of them had time to write a letter. She could already feel their friendship crumbling to dust. The walls closed in on her and her breathing went shallow, quick in and out breaths that didn’t give her lungs the air they needed.
Harry stood and rounded the table to sit next to her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. She leaned against him, breathing in the scent of his body wash. Sandalwood and pine, a scent that always brought her comfort.
“We’re always gonna be best friends,” she said softly. “This doesn’t change anything. We’ll write and call. And visit whenever we can.”
“Yeah, of course we will. But you’ll still have Ron, you know. That’s going well, I imagine.”
Was it? The Weasleys were still mourning Fred. She was too, of course, but it was different for them, losing one of her own. She was still trying to get her parents to forgive her. They hadn’t even wanted to leave Australia.
“Yeah, I guess so. When do you leave?”
“The 16th. I have a portkey to catch then that’ll take me to ICW Headquarters.”
“Are you going to come to Sunday dinner before then? To say goodbye to everyone?”
He shook his head, his lips forming a thin line. “No, my portkey leaves very early in the morning. Plus, it’ll be too hard, you know, to be around them. I don’t know what to say to them. Sorry I got your son and brother killed? It’s just…not where I need to be.”
“Are you excited?”
“Yeah. I am. It’ll be good to get away from here for a while. Too many bad memories that I don’t want to deal with. A lot of good ones, too.” He nudged her shoulder with his own and she smiled weakly.
It felt like Harry was abandoning her. No matter how she tried to tell herself that it was silly, that he was going away for work and they’d still be friends, it felt awful. Who would she go to when she was excited about getting a perfect score on a test? Who would she laugh with about the students she caught in the halls or broom closets?
Ron, your boyfriend, a voice in her mind whispered. But it was different. Harry was the one she always went to with those things. He was her best friend, so why shouldn’t she? She felt close to Harry in a way that was different from Ron. She thought it came from their time alone on the tent, Ron abandoning them and leaving them to struggle on their own. He hadn’t been through Godric’s Hollow with them.
The waiter came to take their plates away, smiling at them. “You two are so cute together,” she said, and Hermione flushed. Harry stood from his chair and went back to the other side of the table.
“Oh, we’re not…that…we’re best friends,” Hermione stammered, wide eyed, looking at Harry. He swallowed, as if there was a lump in his throat, and nodded, smiling at the confused waitress.
“Yeah. Best friends for nearly seven years. Nothing more.”
“Oh.” The waitress frowned. “You guys look so comfortable with each other. You’ve really never dated?”
Hermione felt her face heat further, the blood rushing to her ears. “No, we haven’t, but everyone seems to think so.”
“Well, sorry, then. My apologies. I’ve got your check here.” She laid the bill on the table and Hermione took it, pulling cash from her purse to pay for their meal, as it was her turn to do so. She handed it back to the waitress.
“Keep the change,” Hermione said, standing up from the table. Harry stood and they walked out of the restaurant. They walked into the midday sun, not hidden by clouds as it beamed down on them, warming their skin. Hermione felt hotter than the sun should make her, the waitress’s comment rattling around in her brain.
“Good thing Ron didn’t decide to join us,” Harry chuckled darkly.
Hermione rolled her eyes and by instinct, reached for his hand, unaware that she did so. It was a practiced routine. If they were out somewhere, she took his hand. It was leftover from the hunt, where they stayed close at all times to not lose track of each other. That’s all it was.
“He would be glaring at everyone,” she agreed as they walked down the street toward Grimmauld Place.
It wouldn’t be the first time Ron heard someone insinuate that she and Harry were more than friends. No matter how they denied it, he was always angry about it. She knew something had happened on the hunt to make his jealous tendencies bubble to the surface more than ever, but neither of her best friends would tell her what it was. Ron, because it made him angry, but she didn’t know why Harry kept it from her. It bothered her, this secret. If she knew what it was, she felt like she could defeat it, make it mean nothing. But she couldn’t do a single thing about it if she didn’t know what it was.
They reached the front step of Grimmauld Place, the Fidelius hiding them from view as soon as they set their feet on the first step. Harry opened the door, but there was no ghostly Dumbledore to attack them, the enchantments having been dismantled by Professor Flitwick and the Headmistress. They stepped into the cool air of the dark house and Harry turned toward her.
“I’ll be here, Sunday morning, to say goodbye,” she said, wrapping her arms around him.
“It’s not goodbye, Hermione.” His hands roamed over her back, soothing and comfortable. “We’ll still write, and call, and see each other when we can. I’ll just be further away.”
“I know, and that makes all the difference.”
They separated, and Hermione wiped a tear from her eyes as she looked up at him. He was smiling sadly, and she returned it, feeling like there was something more she should say, but not knowing what the words were.
“I’ll see you Sunday, then.”
She nodded and took a step back, smiling as he waved. She waved back at him before turning on her heel, the familiar squeeze of apparition taking hold as she popped away.
16 August 1998
All week she had been feeling down, Harry’s impending departure hanging over her like a dark storm cloud. She went through the motions, doing her summer homework and spending time at the Burrow, but it was all by rote. She couldn’t laugh, couldn’t smile. She tried, but the laughs sounded hollow and the smiles never reached her ears. Ron tried to ask her what was wrong, but she waved him off, unwilling to fight about it as she knew would happen. If she told him that Harry leaving was making her feel like this, he would blow up and accuse her of being in love with him. She would deny it, he would keep arguing, and she would storm out as was common.
She woke early, at four in the morning, and dressed in a tank top and pajama shorts, not bothering to put shoes on before apparating to the sitting room at Grimmauld Place. Harry was up already, banging about in the kitchen, so she went that way and saw him crouched in front of the oven from her place in the doorway. He looked at ease, his shoulders not tense like they sometimes were, as if a weight had been lifted from them. Her heart thundered in her ears, pounded against her chest, and she looked at him as if it was the last time she’d ever see him.
“Hey,” she called. “What are you up to?”
He turned sharply, standing up, and a grin split his face. “Hey, I’ve got chocolate cake in the oven.”
She arched an eyebrow and laughed as she moved further into the room. "Chocolate cake? Harry, it's four in the morning. Why are you making chocolate cake?"
He laughed and the sound of it washed over her, warmth replacing the cold dread she had been feeling all week.
"I just thought, you know, it's like a going away party. Just the two of us, but there should be cake, right? That's what they do in the movies, have cake when someone is leaving for a bit."
She swallowed and nodded. "Yeah, that is what they do."
“It’s almost done, I’ve been up for a couple hours, too anxious to sleep, really.”
He took her shoulders and guided her to the table, pulling out a chair for her to sit in. She smiled and he moved to the oven, opening the door. The smell of chocolate filled the room and her stomach growled.
“Hungry?” he chuckled, putting oven mitts on and pulling the cake out. He set it on the counter and summoned a tin of icing to him.
“Yes, actually. I didn’t eat much yesterday.”
“Are you okay?” He scooped out chocolate icing from the tin and spread it over the top of the cake and down the sides, covering the whole thing in the thick, sweet chocolate.
“Yeah,” she lied. “I’m fine, just…anxious.”
He nodded, bringing the cake to the table and cutting a slice off for each of them. “Oh, I forgot.” Hermione sent him a questioning look and he just grinned, raising his hand. A small cup of sprinkles sailed into his open palm and he shook them out over the cake and their slices, covering them in a rainbow of color. “That’s better.”
“You’re a child,” she laughed, cutting off a bite with her fork. She stuck it in her mouth and pulled it off. “Though, this is quite good. I didn’t know you could bake.”
“I learned as a kid,” he said, waving off any further explanation.
“What time does your portkey leave?”
“Just after five. I’ve got my bag packed and the portkey is sitting on the coffee table. I got everything ready last night.”
Hermione nodded, feeling the walls press even closer. They chatted about little things and Hermione tried to smile for him. He was excited about leaving and she felt awful for being so glum. This was going to be good for Harry. He would get away from Britain, do his own thing without her help. Maybe that was what was bothering her, the fact that Harry wouldn’t need her help. She had been giving it to him freely for nearly seven years and a part of her wasn’t sure what to do with the fact that he wouldn’t need her anymore.
It was a constant in her life. Harry needed her just surely as the sun rose in the east and set in the west. She would need to find something else to do with the time she usually spent helping Harry. Maybe she could focus more on helping the Weasleys, or her relationship with Ron. It would get better once he was away and she didn’t have his departure to face. He would just be away, and it would hurt, but she would get over it.
Soon enough, their plates were empty and it was nearing time for him to leave. He put the cake in the fridge and told her it was hers if she wanted it, or she could bring it to the Burrow. She nodded and stood from the table. Suddenly her heart was hammering and she was breathing fast and shallow. Harry was leaving. This was the last time she’d see him in person for who knew how long. She wouldn’t be able to take his hand and assure herself that he was still there.
She wanted to do something, say something to make him stay. Couldn’t he see that him leaving was going to ruin her? Everything she had said before about letters and floo calls sounded like a joke to her now. It was too different, too inconsequential. But she still didn’t know why, what it meant that she wanted so desperately for him to stay. She told herself it was just because her best friend would be so far away and that hurt, but she knew she was lying to herself, unable to see the real reason behind her fears.
She hadn’t realized she was moving until Harry was hugging her in the sitting room, the frayed rope portkley in his hand. Tears ran down her cheeks to soak his shirt.
“I’m gonna miss you, Hermione,” he said quietly, muffled by her hair. “I’ll write and call whenever I can.”
“I’ll miss you, too.”
“Tell everyone I said goodbye, yeah?”
She nodded. She didn’t want to let go of him. He was warm against her, solid and present and there. He edged back from her and she wanted so badly to go back to him and hang on for dear life, but the portkey began to glow and it was time for him to disappear in a flash of magic.
Her vision was cloudy, the tears welling in her eyes distorting everything. She wiped her arm across her eyes and smiled at Harry, memorizing his face. She waved, and he laughed, waving back for just a moment before the portkey pulled him away. Then he was gone, and she was left alone in the dark of Grimmauld Place, her toes cold against the hardwood. She looked down, and a tear fell from her cheek to clatter against the floor. The sound of it boomed like thunder in her ears.
Hermione fell backwards to the sofa and curled up with a pillow, letting her tears stain the fabric. A hole had been ripped open inside of her. She felt empty, hollow, a shell of the person she had been just a week ago before she knew that he would be leaving.
31 July 2001
Tears spilled from Hermione's eyes onto the parchment she had been staring at. She sat back in her chair, taking a deep breath as her office door opened and Natalie came in, shutting the door behind her.
“Ready for the meeting with Kingsley?” she asked before turning around. She met Hermione’s eyes and her smile faltered. “Oh, Hermione.”
Hermione choked back a sob and wiped her eyes. “I’m fine,” she croaked. “I was just thinking and got a little distracted. I’m ready, yeah, let’s go.”
“Nope,” Natalie said, rounding the desk and putting the parchments into a pile. “I think the meeting can wait until tomorrow. I’ll send a memo to the Minister letting him know that you came down with something and that’s that. Come on, let’s go get your cake. We'll eat and drink wine and you can cry and tell me all about how you realized you were in love with him. First we should clean you up, no need for any reporters hanging around the atrium to get a picture of you with your face all red.”
Natalie pulled Hermione from the chair and waved her wand in front of her face. Hermione felt the tears leave her cheeks and her face returned to its normal skin tone. She smiled weakly and grabbed her purse as Natalie wrote a quick memo, tapping it with her wand. The parchment folded itself into an airplane and took off, headed toward the Minister’s office. They walked through hallways and corridors to the lift, then through the atrium to the apparition point.
“Where are we going?”
“Just a couple streets over from my flat.”
Natalie took her hand and Hermione focused on an alley near the bakery, turning them on the spot. They appeared in a shadowed alley, buildings on either side of them casting it into darkness.
“Lead the way,” Natalie said, waving in front of them. The click-clack of their heels echoed off of the walls as they made their way out of the alley and dissipated as they reached the street, taking a right toward the bakery. “You do this every year?”
“Yes,” Hermione sniffled. “Every year.”
They made it to the bakery and the bell above the door rang out as they opened it, stepping into the cool air. A woman came out of a door behind the counter and smiled at them. She had steel gray hair piled atop of her head in a bun and a friendly demeanor.
“What can I get for you ladies?”
“Chocolate cake with chocolate icing and rainbow sprinkles, please,” Hermione said.
“Good choice. Chocolate is always a good choice. What are we celebrating?”
“Oh, we’re not…”
“It’s for a friend who can’t be here to celebrate his birthday with us,” Natalie said, resting a hand on Hermione’s arm. “It’s his birthday today but he’s out of the country so we thought we’d get a cake and celebrate without him.”
“Oh, how sweet. I’ve got one made in the back, I’ll just have to put the sprinkles on and get you some candles. It’ll be just a minute, dears.” The woman left through the door she had entered from, leaving Hermione and Natalie to wait.
“Thanks,” Hermione said softly. “For being here.”
“It’s no problem. I figured you could use a friend.”
Hermione wondered idly if Ron was doing anything today to celebrate Harry’s birthday and she doubted it. They didn’t speak much these days, hadn’t really since they broke up a few months after Harry left when she couldn’t get over it. It wasn’t Ron’s fault that she didn’t love him like she loved Harry. It was hers. She should have realized sooner that she loved Harry, that he was more important to her than Ron. He resented her for it, and if she knew him like she thought she did, he resented Harry for it too.
The fight they had the day they broke up had been enlightening for Hermione. It had taken Ron accusing her once again for her to realize what it was she should have told Harry before he left. She had been sitting at the Three Broomsticks with him on a Hogsmeade weekend, ignoring her butterbeer, staring off at nothing, until Ron had asked her what was wrong, and she finally admitted to him that she just missed Harry. They’d gone off to a less crowded part of Hogsmeade where she told him she wanted to break up.
“Because of Harry?” he had asked, face flushed and eyes hard.
“Yes.”
“You love him.” It hadn’t been a question, just a simple statement of fact. “I knew it. I fucking knew it. All this time you were lying to me. I knew it.”
She had been lying; to him, to herself, and she hated herself for it, for what it brought her, even though she hadn’t done it on purpose.
Natalie nudged her and Hermione looked up to see the woman bring a box out, white and square.
“It’ll be £10,” she said, setting the box on the counter. Hermione fished a note out of her purse and handed it over, taking the box into her hands
“Thank you,” Natalie called as they left, the bell ringing out again as they opened the door. They went back to the alley, Hermione holding the box to her chest as Natalie took her arm. Hermione breathed out and turned, feeling the squeeze of apparition before they appeared in Hermione’s flat. It was dark except for the light on in the kitchen. Crookshanks padded up to them, yowling and hungry.
“I’ll take care of the cake and wine,” Natalie said, taking the box from Hermione’s hand. “You go and change.”
Hermione nodded, heading toward her room. She dug pajamas out of the closet, an old jersey of Harry’s that she had found in his bedroom at Grimmauld, and shorts that were comfortable to sleep in. She went to the kitchen and fed Crookshanks as Natalie cut the cake and poured wine. They brought it to the sofa and Natalie flicked her wand, lighting the candles she had stuck into the cake.
“Make a wish.”
Hermione leaned toward the table, eyes closed and lips pursed. What to wish for, she thought. Every year she wished for the same thing, and it never came, but she supposed another try couldn’t hurt. It was all she wanted, anyway.
I wish you were here, Harry, she thought, blowing out the dancing flames.
“What’d you wish for?”
“If I tell you, it won’t come true.”
“Fair enough.” Natalie handed Hermione a fork and plate that held a slice of the cake. “Now, tell me all about how you realized you were in love with your best friend.”
“It was a couple weeks after he left. I had been feeling…empty since he told me he was leaving for Rome. I thought it was just that my best friend was leaving and that’s why it hurt so much. We had gotten even closer when we were alone during the war. I don’t know when I fell in love with him, really. We were just relying on each other so much, for everything, that I think it was a gradual shift. I noticed something in the week before he left, and then when I was saying goodbye right before his portkey took him away. I felt like there was something I needed to tell him, but I didn’t know what it was. I only realized weeks later that I should have told him I loved him.”
“Absence makes the heart grow fonder, doesn’t it? Weren’t you guys writing to each other? Why didn’t you tell him then?”
“What was I supposed to do? Tell him, oh, Harry, I’ve just realized that I’m in love with you, won’t you come back?” She scoffed. “I couldn’t do that to him. I told myself I’d make it work with Ron, and that blew up in my face just a month later.”
“You’re a real sad sack, you know. You can’t write to him now, tell him how you feel? It’s been three years, Hermione.”
“I don’t even know where he is. He’s undercover, probably in the middle of some dark cult. I asked the ICW at Christmas if he was even alive, but they couldn’t tell me, saying it endangered his mission.”
“Well, when he comes back, you’ll have to tell him.”
“If he comes back. And I don’t know. I’ve spent three years pining for him, but he’s spent three years training and going on missions, I don’t even know if he’s the same person. He could be completely different or in love with someone else. He never saw me like that.”
“Oh, please.” Natalie laughed. “If you realized it when he left, I’m certain he did, too. Maybe he left because he loved you, ever think about that? Maybe he was waiting for you to ask him to stay. From what I know, he’s a noble guy. He wouldn’t want to say anything because you were dating his best mate, so he was waiting on you to tell him it was okay.”
“If that’s the case then I screwed everything up even worse than I thought.”
“A love story for the ages,” Natalie sighed.
Hermione sipped her wine, wondering if Natalie could be right. If she had told Harry she loved him that morning in the sitting room at Grimmauld, would he have stayed? Did he leave because he couldn’t be around her, thinking she didn’t love him? It sounded impossible, but it was something she knew she’d think about forever. The fact that she could have avoided all of the pain and heartbreak if she hadn’t been so stupid, if she had realized she loved him before he ever took that offer to go to Rome.
Would they be together now? Would they be happy? Would they work at the Ministry together, Harry arresting people that she later prosecuted?
They ate their cake and drank too much wine. Hermione cried as Natalie rubbed her back. She fell asleep there on the sofa, dreaming of Harry. She dreamed that he never left, that he came back, that he was in love with her and told her he should have never gone away.
She woke to a tapping on her window and sat up, grumbling and clutching her head. Natalie was slumped on the other side of the couch. There was an empty plate with cake crumbs on the coffee table and two empty bottles of wine. The tapping came again and she groaned as she stood, swaying on the spot for a moment as the room spun.
She walked to the window where an owl she didn’t recognize was perched, a letter in its clawed foot. It was still dark outside, and Hermione wondered what time it was. She opened the window and the owl offered her the letter, which she took and brought to the kitchen. She opened a drawer, taking out a few treats that she brought to the window. The owl hooted cheerfully as it took them from her hand before flying off. She closed the window and Natalie groaned from the couch.
“What is it?”
“An owl,” Hermione yawned, a hand covering her mouth. She went back to the kitchen and picked up the letter. Her heart stopped at the seal on the envelope. The ICW logo was embossed into red wax and her fingers shook the envelope in her hand. She walked back to the sofa in a daze, staring down at the letter. Immediately, she thought the worst. It was likely an update from the ICW, telling her that Harry had died.
“Who’s it from?”
Hermione turned to Natalie and the witch’s eyes widened as Hermione showed her the seal.
“Open it!”
Hermione shook her head. She didn’t want to know. If Harry was dead she would rather not know and keep living her life hoping to see him again soon. Natalie took the letter from her hands, Hermione’s grip weak on the parchment.
“Please don’t,” Hermone said softly, tears running down her cheek as Natalie tore it open and pulled out a piece of parchment. Hermione closed her eyes as Natalie scanned the letter.
“Read this, Hermione. Please.”
Natalie shoved the letter into her hands and pleaded once more for Hermione to read it. Hermione opened her eyes, using the jersey to clear them of the tears that clouded her vision, but they came back as she recognized the familiar scrawl of Harry’s handwriting.
Hermione,
I’m sorry it’s been so long. I’ve been..somewhere, for a while, undercover. I can’t share much at the moment, but it should hit the news cycle soon. I’m back in Rome, now, at Headquarters. I’ve got to get some healing done, but don’t worry, I’m fine, really. I’ll have to get debriefed as well, but I did get permission to write to you, obviously.
I’m not sure what to say, actually. I guess I’ll start with I miss you. I didn’t think I’d be undercover for so long without any way to contact you. I realized quite soon that our letters and floo calls were more important to me than I thought. You kept me grounded while I was in training, and then I immediately lost that to take this mission. It’s led to me realizing a few other things as well, and reinforcing some things I already knew.
Chief among these things that I realized was that Rome is much too far away, so I’ll be coming home soon. I don’t know when, exactly. I’ve got to get some things sorted here, and there’s the healing and debriefing of course, so it might be a couple weeks, but I thought I’d let you know. I will ask you to keep it yourself, though, please. I only got permission to let you know, not anyone else, including Ron. I’m sorry to make you hide this from him and the others but that’s the ICW for you.
How is Ron? Last time we talked, you guys were broken up. Has that changed? You won’t actually be able to reply to this letter, so I don’t know why I asked. I’m sort of just writing the words as they come to my brain.
I miss you a lot, Hermione.You’ve probably done a whole lot of good for Britain that I’ll be excited to hear about. I’ve done…stuff. Wow, not being able to talk about it is different for me. Everyone I talk to already knows everything about it. Have you gotten the bill of rights for elves through, yet? I remember you talking about that before I had to go undercover. I can’t wait to hear all about it.
I don’t know how soon I’ll be home, but it shouldn’t be more than a couple of weeks at most. I was thinking we’d get lunch at that Indian place near Grimmauld? Or dinner. Or breakfast. I have no idea what time it’ll be. There’s something I want to tell you that I should have told you a long time ago that I don’t think I should say in a letter.
Hope you’re well.
Love,
Harry
She read and reread the letter a dozen times, tears falling to the parchment to leave dark spots all over it. Her heart was beating rapidly in her chest. Harry was alive. He was coming home. There was something he wanted to tell her. He missed her. She hugged the letter close to her chest and realized she was laughing. True, honest laughing, a grin on her face.
“Oh my god,” Natalie laughed. “Your wish! What did you wish for? It came true, didn’t it! Itwish magic!”
“I wished he was here,” Hermione breathed after she got her laughter under control. She stood from the sofa and grabbed her wand, casting a preservation charm on the parchment. She’d keep it forever, frame it maybe.
“He’s totally in love with you, obviously. Seriously, he wants to tell you something he should have told you a long time ago? And he can’t say it in a letter? He’s missed you for years? He’s totally in love with you.”
“Maybe,” Hermione said, sobering. “But surely we can't just pick up where we left off like nothing’s happened, right? Aren’t we different people, now? But…wow. I can’t believe he’s coming home. I can’t believe he’s even alive.”
“It’s time to bring this love story to a close,” Natalie said, jumping off of the sofa and taking Hermione by the shoulders. “This is going to be so fun. I can’t wait to meet him. You’re both idiots, but you’re in love with each other. So, yes, you can pick up right where you left off.”
18 August 2001
Hermione stood just outside the portkey intake zone in the Ministry. It was Saturday, two and a half weeks since Harry’s letter came. She had gotten a scribbled note the night before telling her he’d be arriving today, right here in the Ministry. Her nails were completely gone where she had been chewing on them for the last couple of weeks. She hadn’t slept the night before and knew she looked like a nightmare come to life.
She had been waiting for an hour already, getting curious looks from the personnel that monitored portkey arrivals, but she didn’t have a care in the world. Her eyes worked locked onto the landing zone, waiting for Harry to appear. She was worried she wouldn’t recognize him. He had said that he underwent a lot of healing when he joined the ICW and then again when he got back from his mission. Her floo calls with Harry were just a face in the fire. She hadn’t seen his real face since he left and it made her nervous.
Her heart lurched in her throat as a group appeared in the landing zone as it did every time it happened. She scanned the tops of their heads, looking for that familiar mop of unruly black hair – and she found it. There was his face, beaming at her from behind a middle aged wizard.
“Hermione!” he yelled, running toward her, his bag hitting him in the shoulder.
“Harry!” she squealed, her feet pounding on the tile as she ran toward him.
The collided in the middle and his arms wound around her middle, her own going around his stomach as she buried her face in his chest.
“You’re so tall!” she laughed, separating from him, her hands on his arms as she looked up at him. He laughed in return and she felt so wonderfully happy in that moment, hearing him laugh again, having him there to touch and hold.
“I got taller, yeah,” he teased. “Part of my healing, fixing the malnutrition I grew up with. Turns out I was supposed to be a bit taller. Who knew?”
That was something she would ask about later.
“Oh Merlin, Harry. I can’t believe you’re here. Look, I’m crying!” She laughed, wiping the tears from her eye with her sleeve.
“Hey, is that my jersey?” he said, turning her around and reading the name on her back. She hadn’t even realized she was still wearing it from when she tried to sleep last night. Hermoine flushed and turned back around, ready to apologize, but he just hugged her again.
“Don’t apologize. It looks good on you. It’s really great to see you, too. I’ve missed you a lot, you know. I know I said in the letter, but gods, Hermione. I can’t tell you enough how much I’ve missed you these past few years.”
“I’ve missed you too. Come on, let’s go get lunch. Indian?”
“Yes, please. International portkeys make me so bloody hungry.”
They walked hand in hand to the apparition point in the atrium, laughing and chatting about everything and nothing, their fingers intertwined. Hermione squeezed his hand and he apparated them to Grimmauld. He looked around with a questioning eyebrow.
“I may have…cleaned it up. I’m sorry, if you hate it I can –”
“No, it’s great. It looks…like a home.” He cleared his throat and tilted his head toward the door. “Come on, let’s go get that food.”
“Wait, Harry?” she said, tugging him back toward her when he turned to walk away. She pulled him much closer than she meant to. She had to look up at him, her chin practically on his chest.
“Yeah?” he breathed. His breath was warm on her face and smelled like cinnamon.
“What was it you wanted to tell me?”
He ran his free hand through his hair and he looked nervous for just a moment, but it was replaced by the confidence of a trained Hit Wizard.
“That? Oh, I just thought I should tell you that I love you, and I should have said so a long time ago."
"That would have been nice," she said, feeling as though she might faint, as if she were dreaming. "But I guess some of the blame lies with me, because I should have told you as well. I should have never let you leave."
He grinned and leaned down to kiss her. As his lips moved against hers, she thought that if she were dreaming, she wouldn't ever like to wake up.