A New Beginning - A Harry Potter Fanfic

Welcome to my first Harry Potter Fanfic. I have always been a fan of JK Rowling's Harry Potter and I'd like to thank her for providing a wonderful world of fantasy.

This fanfic is based on the "What If Theory". The events occur after the demise of Lord Voldemort. I have always been a fan of Harry and Hermione. When I read the first book and was first introduced to the wonderful characters, my initial thought was that Harry and Hermione would end up being together as they are a better match than Harry and Ginny. Hermione has always been there for Harry as Harry has always been there for her even when Ron was hurtful towards her.

I was very disappointed when it turned out that Harry and Ginny would ultimately come together, therefore this story of mine is about a deeply fulfilling relationship between Harry and Hermione.

DISCLAIMER

I do not own the world and characters created by JK Rowling as they remain her property.

I hope you will enjoy my story as the events unfold over the chapters.

Chapter 01

Shocked and dumbfounded I sink to my knees and I look towards the heavens. For the first time in my eighteen years, I finally understand what it means to have faith in the Lord above. Despite being a witch born to Christian parents, I have learnt to have faith. A painful twinge in my left wrist causes me to close my right hand over it. The sting of Bellatrix Lestranges' curse still lingers even though it happened a month ago.

After being on the run with Harry and Ron for the entire school year whilst trying to find ways and means to destroy Voldemort's horcruxes and been successful with that, the wizard we have feared for years is finally dead. Destroyed by Harry Potter - the boy who lived has now become the man responsible for the death of Voldemort.

Harry Potter...His name is like a well-loved song. Every time I think about him or am in his presence, my heart sings like nothing else...And this fills me with dread.

As I rise to my feet, I breathe a sigh of relief, hoping for fresh air, but I start coughing from the smoke and dust slowly settling around me. I briefly close my eyes to regain my sense of self and the reason as to why I am standing in the middle of the battle-field that was host to Voldemort's demise less than an hour ago. I know why I was compelled to come here. For some reason I wanted to be absolutely certain of his demise and I want to...I need to speak to Harry.

The sound of footsteps draws my attention and I whirl around waving my wand just in case it's a death eater... I am still on high alert even though the remaining death eaters scattered to the four winds.

"Sorry," I murmur as I stow my wand in the back pocket of my navy blue jeans, "Old habits die hard."

He regards me for a moment before closing the distance between us, however I step back. I don't think I can handle being close to him without confessing the true nature of my feelings for him. He shrugs his shoulders nonchalantly and smiles wryly at me as he pushes his glasses back onto his sharp nose.

"It's okay. I guess it's going to take some time to adjust to not whipping out our wands every second at every footstep or snapping twig we may hear."

When my response is not forthcoming, he folds his arms and once again regards me. His green eyes appraise me as they search for whatever he is looking for and it makes me slightly uncomfortable. To break eye contact, I smooth my filthy light pink sweater over my hips and in that instant, his eyes darken bringing a slight flush to my cheeks. My head whips up and meets his gaze dead-on. His lightning bolt scar seems to stand out against his pale complexion. He has always been very fair, but he definitely looks pale, yet the appreciation in his eyes is not lost on me.

I may not be as attractive as Ginny or Chou or the Patil twins, but I take pride in my size eight waist. I have hazel eyes and my hair is a mousy brown and I wear it long. Sometimes I wonder if it wouldn't be better if I wore it short. Perhaps once I am finally away from the destruction of Hogwarts Witchcraft and Wizardry, I will change my style.

When he realises what he is doing, he lowers his eyes to the Elder Wand in his hands. To think that Voldemort was after that is a frightening thought. He would have wrought absolute destruction with it. Not only would he have destroyed our kind, he would have destroyed the entire human population to ensure that only pureblood wizards remained. I find it ironic, because Voldemort was a half-blood, yet he wanted only purebloods to rule the wizarding world.

"Hermione," he ventures and the soft and sad undertone in his voice forces me to close the distance between us, however I maintain my distance from him.

"Yes?" I murmur.

"Did you and Ron... You know?"

I look away. The kiss Ron and I shared in The Chamber of Secrets earlier today was a huge mistake as it made me realise the extent and depth of my feelings for Harry. When Ron kissed me, I expected to go weak at the knees or swoon, but I felt nothing. Not even a connection. He felt more than I did because he poured his heart and soul into that kiss...and I did not. I was the first to break our kiss and I couldn't look him in the eye after that.

After years of trying to figure out the nature of my feelings, I realised that the boy I wanted to be with was Harry. I didn't tell Ron that. It would break him if I did as he has always felt second best and not as important as Harry. He often told me that and I always told him it was not that way at all.

"Yes," I reply, "But he was not who I wanted to be with, Harry," I barely whisper and again his eyes darken. Is there a possibility that he feels the same way about me? What about Ginny? Have both Harry and I lived in denial for the past two years, if not more?

"Why do you say that? You've always been interested in him."

"I thought he was the one, Harry. I feel differently now."

His eyes gently probe mine and I have a difficult time ignoring the longing and hope in them.

"How so?" he finally asks.

"I don't know. I feel as if I've lived in a fantasy world for the past five years, and I am only waking up now."

"I don't believe you," he smirks and that nearly sends me over the edge. I've always found his smirk appealing and sexy. I love the way the corners of his mouth turn up as if he is going to smile, only to cock his head to the side as he is doing now and it makes his almost-smile transform into a smirk.

I wince when the scar left by Bellatrix starts throbbing and I quickly turn away before he sees my tears. I don't want him to see the pain it causes me. As far as I am concerned, his green eyes see far too much. They have seen far too much tragedy and death in his seventeen years. I can only imagine what he must feel knowing so many good witches and wizards died in a battle that was ultimately between him and Voldemort.

I feel the gentle pressure and warmth of his hands on my shoulders as he slowly turns me around.

"It's nothing," I blurt too quickly and he raises a perfectly arched bushy eyebrow at me.

"You don't lie very well, you know that?" he states as he lifts my left hand and carefully pushes up my sleeve exposing the word mudblood permanently tattooed into my wrist.

"You care too much," I whisper and he chuckles softly. It's low and pleasing sound to my ears and sends my heart soaring as it wanted to a moment ago.

"I was hoping you would realise why...I care so much for you by now, Hermione."

Swallowing hard, I can only watch as he runs his thumb along the length of my scar. In the light, the scar on the top of his hand is glaringly obvious and it reads: I must not tell lies. I remember when first I noticed it - I was horrified.

It was during our fifth year when a despicable woman was placed by the Ministry of Magic to teach Defense against the Dark Arts. Dolores Umbridge. She was vile and wanted to take over the school. During our first lesson with her, Harry spoke out about Cedric Diggory's death and Voldemort's return and she did not believe him. She gave him detention and his scar was the end result of her tortuous methods of punishment. The word sadistic comes to mind.

And then he does something completely unexpected. He presses his lips on the scar and trails featherlight kisses along the length of it, leaving a burning path in its wake. I try stifling my gasp, but it bursts forth. His reaction is immediate. He drops my hand and wraps his arms around me and he nuzzles my neck. He nuzzles my neck… Oh my God. And then he trails butterfly kisses along my neck to my earlobe which he nibbles. I can't begin to describe what his kisses are doing to me, apart from my singing heart that feels fit to soar and glide away from everything.

"Harry," I breathe as his hand interlocks with mine. He pulls back and gently touches my cheek with his fingers. The air changes, and becomes charged with electricity between us. This time I cannot deny what my eyes see in his or what my heart tells me. In my heart, I know he belongs to me and by his hooded eyes he feels exactly the same.

"Hermione, you are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen...," he breathes as he leans towards me.

He thinks I am beautiful. Ron has never ever told me that. During the Yule Ball during our fourth year, he was the only one, apart from Viktor Krum to tell me I looked beautiful.

I angle towards him, ready to receive his kiss, when he pauses. He is so close I see every speck of dust and grime on his face. He is so close, I feel his gentle breath on my lips.

"Harry!"

We hastily pull apart as Ron jogs towards us. I do not know how much he has seen. I try freeing my hand from Harry's, but he tightens his grip, steps right up to me until our arms touch and moves our hands behind his back.

"Yeah?"

"They want to see you...Back at The Great Hall. My Mum also wants to know if you have made up your mind about staying with us for a while."

Harry gives me a sidelong glance. "Does her offer extend to Hermione?"

I cannot deny the concern in his green eyes. He is concerned about my welfare, whereas Ron is a self-absorbed git and my wellbeing is the last thing he will think about. I cannot fathom why I was so attracted to him. During all our years as friends, he has also passed insults my way, without sparing thought to how it made me feel.

"Yeah, mate. Of course it does. Mum wants all of us together..." He massages his neck and sighs, "For Fred's funeral."

"Fred's funeral?" I murmur more to myself than the guys.

"Yeah... Come on. They want to see you. As for me, I can't wait to get out of here...and away from all this death..." I can't help noticing how his blue eyes roam my body and it makes me very uncomfortable. I don't like the way he is looking at me. It feels as if he is undressing me with his eyes. Harry senses my discomfit because he gives my hand a reassuring squeeze. I slowly exhale and it ruffles his already tousled hair that no matter how many times he brushes and combs it, never stays flat. He shivers slightly - I don't know if is because of me or the fact that the tension between the three of us has dropped several degrees, but again, he gives my hand a reassuring squeeze and I relax and so does he.

"Likewise, Ron," murmurs Harry as we walk behind him. If he noticed anything, he doesn't show it, but then he has never been that observant. If he cannot see that I don't return his feelings, than there is no hope for him in the long run.

"Hey," says Ron, pausing at the steps leading into the Great Hall, "Are you keeping the Elder Wand?"

Harry shakes his head, "No. I am going to use it to repair my wand…"

I flinch about this. During our visit to Godric's Hollow, we were at Bathilda Bagshot's home under the illusion that it was she, however as soon as we walked in, we instantly realised something was amiss, yet Harry followed her to the first floor. I explored the ground floor and in one of the rooms, there was a corpse of the real Bathilda Bagshot, covered in flies and maggots. At the same time, I heard a commotion above me. My heart nearly dropped when I realised he was in trouble. I found my way up there and was horrified to see him fending off a snake that was the human form of the deceased Bathilda Bagshot. At the time, I did not understand what evil magic created it and I didn't care to understand, but I had to help him as he was without a wand. I remember searching for it and I found it at the same time our hands interlocked and we apparated out of the window at the same time an explosion rocked the house. During the process, his wand broke.

"I'm sorry," I whisper, knowing how much his wand meant to him. To a wizard and witch a wand is an extension of ourselves and to be without a wand is like losing your arm. He squeezes my hand to let me know he is okay with it.

"And then what are you going to do with it?" asks Ron as he folds his arms and stares down at us. He is a big guy. Far bigger than Harry and sometimes he can be intimidating, like now when he is readying himself to argue the point with whatever decision Harry has made concerning the Elder Wand.

"Do with it?" he scoffs, "Do you honestly think I am going to keep it, Ronald?"

He flinches at the use of his full name. Harry never calls him by his full name unless he is well and truly exasperated with him. Except this time, he is angry.

"You are the master of death, Harry. You should keep it."

Harry shrugs his shoulders in a non-caring way. "So? Do you think I can carry this wand and forget about the lives that were lost this evening? Do you honestly think I can carry it with pride when so many innocents died because of me? Because of the battle that was ultimately between Voldemort and I?" He clenches his jaw and glares at Ron as if he is the biggest dumbass on the earth. It's my turn to give his hand a reassuring squeeze. He relaxes…slightly. "The wand belongs to Professor Dumbledore, and I want…I am going to return it to his White Tomb."

Harry tightens his grip as we push past Ron. He notices our interlocked hands, but he does not react. It's not as if we haven't held hands before. Many times whenever we ran from something, it was Harry's hand who always reached for mine. I never thought much of it. There was never time to think about it as we were too preoccupied with whatever was going on at the time.

When I look back, Ron is a few steps behind me, keeping his blue eyes firmly fixed on my ass and it pisses me off…for real this time, but I don't get the opportunity to tell him off…Not this time, but I will when the dust has settled.

As soon as we step into the Great Hall, Harry is whisked away by Professor McGonagall, leaving me cold and bereft without the warm pressure of his hand on mine, and in the company of Ron. Shivering slightly, I fold my arms and rub them to restore some warmth. Ron shoves his hands into his pockets and stares resolutely ahead at nothing in particular. I can't help noticing the way his jaw clenches as if he is thinking about something unpleasant. I force myself to look away and my eyes seek out Harry. I don't see him of course. He is probably discussing his wish to have the Elder Wand returned to the White Tomb.

"Why won't he keep it, Hermione?"

"I think it is commendable, Ron. The wand does belong to Professor Dumbledore."

"But he won it fair and square. If I had the wand-"

I whirl around, glaring at him and he gapes at me in open surprise at my unexpected attack. I know why I feel the need to defend him and as I regard his profile, I wonder if my earlier thought about him being not as observant as the rest of us was way off the mark. I quickly rearrange my face into what I hope is a neutral expression. "And use it for what purpose, Ronald? Look around us," I open my arms and turn in a slow circle taking in the devastation around us. "He is right. The wand should be returned to its rightful place." I lower my arms to my sides and I drop my gaze to my scuffed and filthy sneakers.

"Are you hot for him, Hermione?"

I blush crimson and refuse to look him in the eye. "Why would you say that?" I squeak.

"I don't know," he says harshly, "Why don't you tell me?"

His sarcasm and pain is not lost on me, yet I feel absolutely nothing for him. He does not stir my heart like Harry does. I look up just as he brushes past me to where his Mum and family are sitting quietly together. Ginny - my best friend and soon to be former best friend - sits apart from them and a sense of utter loss, devastation and loneliness settles over me as I observe the tight family unit.

I have to bite my tongue to keep from crying out. I have nowhere to go. My parents are in Australia and they have no idea that I even exist. Using the Obliviate charm on them to rid them of every memory they had of me was the most difficult thing for me to do. I cried…for weeks after that and Harry was the only one who understood the depth of my pain. Ron did not do a thing, but distance himself the longer we travelled the land trying to find the solution to destroying the horcruxes.

Things worsened to the point where Ron packed his bags and left. I think it was at that point I realised that whatever I thought I felt for him had been well and truly crushed. If he cared at all, he would not have taken off like he did and when he returned, I felt nothing. I closed my heart to him, and opened it completely to Harry, who has always been my source of comfort. Harry who held my hand when that stupid blond, Lavender Brown kissed Ron in front of all the Gryffindors during our sixth year and because Ron has the emotional range of a teaspoon, he lapped it up as if starved for affection. Harry has always been there for me as I have been for him. Right from the moment we first hugged at the impressionable age of eleven years old after the incident with the Philosopher's Stone during our first year at Hogwarts. It was Harry who told me how worried he was when I was petrified during our second year. He only revealed the concern he experienced after he saved Ginny from Voldemort's clutches. He told me he thought I'd never wake up and I was touched because he cared…and Ron remained oblivious…as usual.

I wrap my arms around my legs and rest my weary head on my lap. There is nothing more I want than to leave this place of death and sadness and go somewhere warm and sunny. I don't want to continue my education at Hogwarts. I want to go to a muggle university and do a muggle degree and work as a muggle dentist or doctor. I don't want to work for the Ministry of Magic. But I don't know if I can do all of that if Harry decides to complete his education. I don't want to go where he is not willing to follow. I need him and the thought of not seeing him again, kills me.

"Hey, what did you do to piss off my brother?"

I don't bother looking up. "I rejected his kiss," I reply, thinking a deviation from the truth would be better than spilling my guts to Ginny who has loved Harry since she was eleven.

"Ron kissed you? He actually plucked up the courage to kiss you?" I don't miss the incredulous tone of surprise in her voice.

"Why the tone of surprise, Ginny?" I ask more out of interest than anything else.

"Um…I don't know. I didn't think he had it in him and why did you reject his kiss? You can't still be pissed off about him ditching you and Harry."

Swallowing hard, I meet her warm brown eyes and I hope my expression is neutral, but my words get lost somewhere in the back of my throat. I cannot tell her because she will tell Ron and I am not ready to openly discuss the way I feel about Harry with everyone else.

"Or," she smiles. "Is he that bad? I thought with the amount of practice he had with Lavender, he would have least known how to kiss."

"Life is not all about guys, Ginny," I snap. Now her reputation as a cock teaser is something else entirely. She's had more guys than I care to count and all because she went overboard with the advice I gave to her about playing the field to attract Harry's attention. I deadpan her. "We both know you are not as innocent as you perceive yourself to be."

She huffs and lifts her chin defiantly, "So says Miss Prim and Proper. You wouldn't know how to screw a guy even if you tried."

"Unlike you, Ginny, I am-"

"What?" she cuts me off, "Saving yourself for the right guy? Grow up, Hermione, otherwise you are going to grow up alone if you do not put yourself out there."

I jump to my feet and round on her. "At least I will grow old with the right guy, and not with just any rabble from the street. Coming from someone who is not shy about the guys she's had, you have no right to judge me!"

We glare at each other until my head starts pounding and my wrist gives an extremely painful twinge and my eyes fill with tears. I desperately cast around looking for Harry. Where is he when I need him the most?

"You were the one who told me to play the field," she throws back.

"Don't pin it on me, Ginny. I never told you to go from one guy to the next and nor did I think you would take my advice so completely to heart, but seriously, one guy a month?"

"It was not like that," she says softly.

"Well, guys talk, Ginny and what comes out of their mouths is anything but… Fred and George were right to show their concern," I whisper, knowing it will just end up in one of us crying, but I harden my heart. I will not cry. Too many lives have been lost and I don't have enough tears to shed for every one of them. I can't help observing the way she straightens herself and folds her arms as if she is trying to ease her pain. I don't care right now. I gently massage my wrist to ease the pain but it makes it worse. I stamp my foot in an effort to blow off some steam.

"Where are you?" I whisper, more to myself than to anyone.

"Who?" she asks, looking around us and then at me, I quickly plaster a fake smile on my face.

"Please leave me alone," I murmur as I once again cast my eyes around for Harry and I see him coming towards me. I don't know what he sees on my face, but he starts jogging towards us. Ginny is with me. She will see…She will see and that does nothing to ease my shattered nerves or the tight knots in my stomach. I wrap my arms protectively around myself and I try to act indifferent, but that is not lost on him as he stops next to me.

"Hey Ginny," he says quietly, plastering a fake smile on his face.

"Hey yourself," she returns as she coolly regards us and a tense silence ensues.

"What did the Professors say?" I ask to diffuse the tension.

He gives me a tired smile and that is when I notice the dark circles around his eyes. He looks weary and worn out and he is only seventeen. I am tempted to brush his fringe back, but I resist and clench my hands into tight fists.

"They agree, Hermione."

"So when-"

"They want to restore the school before I return it," he says softly.

"What are you talking about?" Ginny asks after silently observing our conversation.

"The Elder Wand. I am going to return it to the White Tomb…"

She frowns and is about to say something when Harry holds up his hand. "It is my decision. I don't want to get into the details," he says quietly.

"I-" she trails off obviously thinking better of it, "I should go back to my family. See you back at The Burrow?" she asks directing her question more at Harry, than me and a surge of jealousy sweeps through me, nearly winding me. If she thinks she is going to get her claws into him, she has another thing coming.

"Yeah…Whatever," he says as he slowly turns away from her. I watch her flounce back to her waiting family and once her back is to me, I reach for his hand, interlocking our fingers together.

"Let's get out of here," I whisper and a slow smile spreads across his handsome face.

"I was thinking the same thing, but you do realise we have to go to The Burrow?" he asks as we walk through the doors, into a new dawn. The first pink rays of the sun are peaking through the clouds and it fills me with renewed hope.

"Yes," I murmur. We both know we are going to face new challenges and none of it is going to be well-received…and I don't want to think about it now. As we regard each other, we reach an understanding. We are not going to broach the subject yet, and that is fine with me. We've lived in denial for too long. What is another week or two or three?