A story from my archive

The dawn light filtered into the drawing room, its murky grey hue falling upon the three people stirring there. Harry Potter felt dozy as he watched the hearth. It was giving off a sweet, sickly fume as though one of the logs was damp and now that aroma was burning into the room. Harry felt it flowing around his brain, fogging his mind and sending him into some sort of drunken slumber.

Across the room, on the spacious couch, Hermione was nodding in and out of sleep. Ron lay sprawled across her lap, snoring loudly and making the occasional grunting noise. Harry watched Hermione's hand playing absent mindedly through his hair, a look of tender contentment on her face. Harry watched, feeling the strange sense of loneliness he'd felt all those months ago in this same room when he'd wondered if his two best friends had fallen asleep holding hands. It all seemed a lifetime ago now. He tried to dream of Ginny to alleviate his sense of longing; in the stifling sickly aroma from the fire, Harry was only slightly surprised that this didn't work.

A log settled in the fire, crackling and sparking and sending little glowing embers up into the chimney. Ron stirred, muttered something incoherent and nuzzled back down into Hermione's lap. She hushed him and smoothed his head as he settled back down. Harry looked fondly at her as she mothered Ron, wondering why it felt so uncomfortable to him. She looked up unexpectedly, her eyes meeting Harry's as if some magnetic force had drawn their gazes together. Harry looked away quickly; she had seen him looking at her, what if she thought he'd been watching her? That would be weird.

Harry looked around, fixing on any object he could, consciously avoiding Hermione's direction, all the time wondering why he felt the need to do this. He could feel her looking at him, as though her stare had a force all of its own that only Harry could detect. He could sense her eyes poring into him and after a while it made him feel quite exposed. A few minutes passed, though it felt much longer, and Harry got up to leave the room, unable to stand it much more. He flicked a glance at Hermione but she was head down, looking only at Ron. As he left the room he thought he saw her head snap up, but then it was still quite dark and he could have been mistaken.

Grimmauld Place was almost unrecognisable as the house Harry had first entered three years ago. The dank carpet, the peeling wallpaper, the archaic lamps had all been replaced by new, colourful decoration, all lit by powerful candles on the walls and high on the ceiling. The reformation of the house was all the work of Kreacher and fifty eager Hogwarts house-elves and the marked difference it gave to the air of the place never ceased to amaze Harry, no matter how many times he considered it.

After leaving the drawing room Harry made his way quietly upstairs. He passed the locked door of Regulus' old bedroom, his heart still heavy with all the nightmarish trouble of the Horcrux hunt. Up again and he reached Sirius' old room, now converted into Harry's own. A sparkling new four-poster bed dominated much of the space in here while a large chest of drawers and a couple of bedside tables took up most of the rest. Harry looked around at the tidiness of the place, watching the photos on his nightstand waving out at him. Then it struck him.

This isn't right, he thought. My room is never like this. He thought for a little while, then a wry smile crept onto his face. Hermione. She's been and cleaned up in here!

He smirked to himself as he crossed the room and sat down on his bed. He took a photo from the nightstand; it showed himself, Hermione and Ron throwing their pointed wizards hats into the air as they celebrated graduating from Hogwarts. Both he and Ron had been granted honorary NEWTS in recognition for their part in bringing down Voldemort. Hermione had refused the same offer, choosing instead to study for a month before actually sitting the exams. Harry smiled as he remembered the look of sheer joy on her face as she read her marks out, beating all other students despite missing a year. It was a look so well captured in the moving photo. Had it really been three months since that happy day?

"Harry?"

Hearing the girl's voice itself shook Harry from something like regret. He glanced up to see Hermione framed in the doorway, the light from the hall streaming in behind her.

"All right," replied Harry. "Ron up?"

"No, I left him sleeping," said Hermione, entering the room. "He's got a big day today, he'll need his energy."

Of course - Ron's trial for the Chudley Cannons; Harry had almost forgotten.

"I really hope he does well," Hermione went on. "He was so nervous yesterday."

"He'll be fine," said Harry, though he didn't quite meet Hermione's eye when he said this.

In fact, Harry had been realising that he hadn't been meeting Hermione's eye quite a lot recently, the reason for which he found quite confusing. The immediate aftermath of Voldemort's defeat had been one of jubilation and celebration, but the fanfare had died down now as people set about rebuilding the world, repairing buildings and the lives shattered by Voldemort. It was a time of soul-searching as the Wizarding community counted the cost of the war, but not for Harry.

For he had seen so much and lost so much that it was a wound time might never heal. He had lost as much as anyone - Lupin, Tonks, Fred, Hedwig, Dobby - even tracing back to Dumbledore and Sirius, all lost in the name of this cause. It was a gaping hole that he was nowhere near ready to try and close. So instead he spent much of his time reflecting on the events of the last horrid year, the impossibility at its outset, the mysteries at its close. But one set of events kept sticking in his mind, and he could think of little else.

For reasons he couldn't fathom, Harry found himself more often than not thinking about the way Ron had left when they argued during the Horcrux hunt. He thought about the following weeks, the trip to Godric's Hollow, all that happened during the time where he and Hermione were alone, right up until Ron's return. There were solitary moments where he found himself longing for the sensations he had begun to experience during that time, though he couldn't quite recall what these were. All he knew was that he felt closer to remembering it when he and Hermione were alone and that somewhere, deep down, he felt a sense of danger for thinking of it.

"What's that, Harry?" asked Hermione, pulling Harry back to the present.

"Oh, yeah, I forgot to tell you this," said Harry. He reached over and took a large, leather-bound photo album from the bedside table. Hermione perched herself next to him on the bed.

"What is it?" she asked.

"I was sent it by Dennis Creevey, you remember, Colin's brother?" said Harry. "Anyway, after Colin was killed, Dennis thought he would have wanted me to have this. It's some of the photos he took. There's loads - he took that camera everywhere with him"

"Ooh, there's you catching the Snitch," said Hermione pointing at a victorious Harry circling the Quidditch pitch. "And there's us at the DA; me and you at the Yule Ball, I loved that dress; all of us by the lake after the Second Task; me and you at breakfast; me and you with Ron and Luna in the background. I look quite nice in that one."

"You look quite nice in all of them," Harry said fairly.

"Thanks, that's sweet," said Hermione.

"Well you do," said Harry stoutly. "I don't though. Look at me in this one! My hair's a right state. And here, you look really nice in this one while I look like I've gone few rounds with Grawp!"

Hermione laughed. "You're too hard on yourself, Harry. You know you're pretty, I don't know why you bother pretending."

"Excuse me," said Harry indignantly. "But I am not pretty! I'm rugged and masculine and hunky, and all that."

They both laughed again.

"Actually," said Hermione taking one side of the album from Harry and resting it on her lap, "there's quite a few of just you and me here. Bit odd, isn't it."

"Yeah, weird," said Harry absently.

Hermione had leaned in to look more closely at a picture on Harry's side. He felt himself tense as a wisp of Hermione's hair brushed his cheek. It was a strange response. Then he picked it up. These days Hermione was scented, dangerously fragranced with perfume. This wasn't ordinary Muggle perfume, this was witches perfume, the best seller according to Witch Weekly's cosmetics column. Harry fought a constant battle around the house against the delicate floral aromas of Essence De Amortentia. But it wasn't easily shrugged off.

"We actually look quite together cute in this one," said Hermione, leaning back to let Harry see.

"Don't let Ron hear you say that, he'll have a fit."

It happened in a flash and Harry knew he'd said the wrong thing. It was as if he'd thrown lead into the air and killed the pleasant atmosphere that had existed moments before. And this wasn't the first time it had happened, either. It always seemed to spring up between them every time the subject of Ron and Hermione's relationship was mentioned. It was like someone casting a shield charm whenever the subject was broached.

"Why does that always happen?" Hermione asked after a few, awkward moments.

"Hmm?" was all Harry offered by way of reply, though he knew what Hermione was getting at.

"Why is it that whenever Ron is mentioned between us the air just clams up?"

"Dunno," said Harry dumbly. "You're the brains of this outfit. This is your area."

Harry looked down at the photo album again. He was finding the room awfully hot and stifling, as if the rotting smell of the drawing room hearth was seeping up through the floors. A picture looked up at him; it was one of him and Hermione with Harry's Firebolt. His arm was around her shoulders, hers around his waist. He had a fleeting image of a snowy graveyard and a wreath on a headstone before he finally remembered the sensation he'd been dwelling on for months. The realisation wasn't a comfortable one.

"Harry? What is it?" said Hermione as though reading his thoughts.

"What? Oh, nothing - just thinking," said Harry awkwardly. He tried to shift away from Hermione without making it obvious.

"About what?" she asked.

"Just some of the stuff we've been through," said Harry vaguely.

"Yeah, we have been through quite a bit, me and you," said Hermione with a sigh.

"I meant us as in everybody," said Harry. "But it always seems to come down to just you and me so you were right anyway. Then it always falls to you to do something amazing to take us forward."

Hermione hooted with laughter. "Like what?"

"Er, Horcruxes slipped your mind already, have they?" said Harry. "You destroyed one, worked out how to destroy them in the first place. I'd have never figured that out."

"Stop, Harry, you'll make me blush," said Hermione. "You would have worked that all out in the end. You're instincts are nearly always right, remember?"

Nearly always, Harry thought as he looked at her.

"Besides, you destroyed most of the Horcruxes," said Hermione. "Including letting yourself get killed. Can I ask you something, though, just between you and me?"

"Since when did you have to ask permission for something like that?" said Harry, puzzled.

Hermione smiled coyly. "I just wanted to ask about the locket."

Harry froze. He knew what was coming just as surely as he knew he couldn't lie to Hermione. Perhaps he might just try and bend the truth this once.

"What about it?" said Harry, trying to sound unconcerned.

"You destroyed it after taking the sword out of the frozen pond, yes?" Hermione asked. Harry nodded. "I was just wondering what happened."

"We stabbed it with the sword," said Harry.

"I didn't mean that...and you know it," said Hermione. Her tone of voice had changed, softened, and Harry was powerless against it.

"When you came back, things were different. Between us, I mean. You and Ron were back to being best friends like nothing had happened but you and me - well, that was different."

"I - I didn't notice anything different," said Harry evasively. He tried to get up, he was feeling distinctly uncomfortable.

"Don't try and get away from me," said Hermione hotly, gripping Harry's arm and yanking him back down. "I want an answer. I've been thinking about this for weeks."

"Eh? You too?"

"What? You mean you've been thinking about it as well?" said Hermione, startled.

"Depends," said Harry wryly. "We might not be talking about the same thing."

"I will hit you, Harry, if you carry on like this," said Hermione. "What happened, tell me."

"I don't think we should talk about this," said Harry. "If Ron knew..."

"He's downstairs, asleep," said Hermione bluntly. "Besides, this is about you and me. Ron and me is something else."

"That's what you don't get, you see," said Harry. "You can't separate them."

"Meaning what?"

"I don't know. It sounded good in my head."

"Harry..."

"Hermione - what do you want me to say."

"I'd like you to say that some things never happened between us," said Hermione. "That you didn't act the way you did for the same reasons I did. It would certainly make things easier. But you aren't going to say that, are you?"

"Couldn't if I wanted to," said Harry, perplexed. "What did you do anyway? What way did you act in?"

"I didn't speak to you just after Ron left," said Hermione glancing away. "I was distant with you, and you were with me. I felt really...odd...after what he said."

"Which part?"

"The - um - part about me choosing you."

There was now the deepest silence between them that had ever existed since they'd met. Harry couldn't stand it; if he was ever going to say this to her, it would have to be now.

"I felt it, too," he began. "You weren't alone. I felt -"

"- nervous, like he'd touched a -"

"- nerve. Other people had seen it, but I laughed it off -"

"- but for him to think it, it must mean something -"

They both looked at each other as if seeing each other properly for the first time.

"I felt like my deepest secret had exploded in my face," said Hermione.

"I felt like I'd betrayed my best friend and at the same time knew I couldn't ever have what I wanted, just when I found out what that was," said Harry.

"Then we went to Godric's Hollow," said Hermione.

"And the graveyard," said Harry fondly remembering. He closed his eyes.

"It was so pretty there, all the snow..." said Hermione. Harry could sense that she was copying his reminiscing pose. "But I ruined it - I broke your wand. If I hadn't..."

"You saved my life, you were beyond amazing, as always," said Harry. "You stayed up all night nursing me. There was no need to do that."

"You were calling for me, what else was I supposed to do?"

"Calling for you?" asked Harry, slightly embarrassed.

"You remember when Ron was cursed and he said my name when he was in the Hospital Wing?" said Hermione, blushing furiously. "It was like that; you kept asking for me, saying my name. I couldn't tell whether you were awake or not. Anyway, it was all I could do."

"I hope I didn't say anything incriminating," said Harry, grinning.

"Well, there was this one thing..." said Hermione, grinning back.

"Then there was the thing with the Horcrux," said Harry. "That ended it. I knew Ron was right. He got it and I didn't - in every sense."

"Oh, Harry -" said Hermione looking forlornly at him. "So can you tell me now what the Horcrux did?"

"It turned into you and me, and well, we sort of...kissed," said Harry clumsily.

"Ah, that would have been nice for Ron."

"Yeah, just about as much as a bout of bubonic plague," said Harry. "I told him that we weren't - you know - and he was okay after that."

Hermione smiled as she thought back to the time. It diffused a glow over her face that suited her more than Harry would have ever been able to find words for.

"I knew then that I had to go back to the way things were," said Harry. "Our decisions had been made. I couldn't betray Ron again. Besides, I didn't think I was going to outlive the end of the war and if you had to be with anyone else, I wanted it to be him."

"And now?" said Hermione.

"Now nothing," said Harry. "Nothing has changed and you know that."

Hermione sighed; sadness filled her eyes. "Yes, of course you're right. But we both know, don't we, that we have something."

"Had, Hermione; we can't ever mention this again."

"But as long as we know, it'll be okay. I'm just not sure what to do now. And I was so certain before all this."

"You'll be okay with Ron," said Harry. "He loves you. If I knew nothing else about it, that would be enough. But he's a good guy, too. A prat at times, but generally good and as loyal as you can find. That makes him worthy of you."

"Oh, Harry, don't say things like that," said Hermione frantically. "It makes it so much harder to do this. But what about you? What will you do?"

"I'll be okay," said Harry bracingly. "Ginny's hot. We'll make pretty kids together, so she'll do."

"Oh, Harry!" said Hermione, laughing.

Harry got up and crossed to the dresser. He opened it up and took out a small bag charmed to have unlimited room inside. He started putting some things in it and when he spoke he didn't look over at Hermione. He didn't think he could say what he had to say if she looked back at him.

"I have to go away," said Harry. "Things to do...clear my head...put some distance between us."

"I thought you might say that," said Hermione resignedly.

"I knew you would," said Harry smiling to himself. "I hate to say it but I don't think we should see each other for a while."

"Damn you and those instincts," said Hermione trying to keep things light. "Where will you go?"

"Still, a few Death Eaters to take care of," said Harry. "And Kingsley wanted to talk to me about heading up a new Auror department. Didn't think the last one was up to much considering the Ministry went down without a fight."

"When will you be back?"

"You'll know when I get here," said Harry. "You and Ron are welcome to stay here. Keep the place going."

Harry finished packing and started to cross the room. Hermione was looking pensive, as though concentrating on the hardest thing she had ever had to do. Harry heard her take a deep breath as he passed her, then he heard a creak as the bed sprang up and the next thing he knew was the taste of Hermione's lips as she kissed him with more passion than he'd ever known. He kissed her back, hungrily, knowing it was the only real kiss they would ever share, and the last kiss in his life that he would truly mean.

"Didn't think you were going to leave without a proper goodbye, did you?" said Hermione breathlessly, her eyes glistening with tears. "Sorry for that, but I just had to, you know?"

"I know," said Harry, smoothing a clump of her hair in his fingers. "And if you hadn't, I would have."

"What now?"

"Hug me, thank me for saving your life a few times, I'll thank you for saving my heart, then you'll say goodbye to me."

Hermione drew him into the most tender embrace they'd ever shared, shaking as she wept. It was like when they had walked from the Godric's Hollow graveyard, only deeper and more painful than Harry could have imagined was possible. She kissed him lightly on the head; he closed his eyes at the touch, fighting back the tears that, if allowed to spill, might make him reconsider this noblest of acts.

"Thank you for saving my life all those times," Hermione whispered in Harry's ear, her warm breath flowing down to his heart like phoenix song. "Goodbye then...m-my love."

Harry tensed and turned away. He literally had to bite his tongue at the words. A sob caught in his throat as he turned back, kissed Hermione on the cheek and walked away. He couldn't face her. He had only gone a few steps, though, before he turned back to see Hermione one last time.

"You know," he said, "I told Ron I loved you."

"You...what? I -"

"Loved you like a sister," Harry cut across. He smiled to calm Hermione and stop her tears, which were free flowing now. "Don't tell Ron, but only half of that was true."

They smiled at each other one last time before Harry turned and, this time, he really did leave.