A/N: I love random inspiration! This hit me while I was reading, and I just decided to try writing it down. We'll see where it goes!
Disclaimer: Guess who owns Harry Potter? I'll give you a hint—it's not me.
When she found out, she didn't even pause to think—something highly unusual for her—she just drove. Well, first she screamed at her now ex-fiancé for a good thirty minutes, packed everything she could fit into two battered suitcases, and tossed the sparkling diamond ring to the ground. Then she drove.
Hours passed, the sky turned from blue to black, and stars dotted the wide expanse of darkness as she put more and more miles behind her. She silently thanked the remarkable witch or wizard who had discovered the never-ending gas tank charm, which was being put to good use right now. Though she had no idea where she was going, she felt satisfied with the knowledge that she was gone.
No thoughts of remorse or "How dare he?" traveled through her mind. In fact, she didn't feel the least bit sad. In a way, she was relieved. She'd seen this coming from the day he'd danced with that little tramp at his brother's wedding. From that point on, they started to grow apart, bit by bit, until finally, it came out; he'd slept with the blonde bimbo.
Her hands clenched around the steering wheel at the thought. Just because she wasn't sad didn't mean she wasn't angry. She didn't understand what could possibly motivate him to cheat on the woman he'd not only dated for seven months, but who had been one of his best friends for nearly a decade.
And the prat didn't even bat an eyelash when she confronted him; he owned up to it, stony-faced and unrepentant.
She felt sick to her stomach just thinking about it. What killed her the most was that he didn't even care that he'd ruined a wonderful friendship. Though she couldn't say that he was the only one at fault. Though they'd been living together ever since he'd proposed, she'd stubbornly refused to put out. But was it really so horrible that she wanted to wait until they were actually married to have sex? No, it wasn't. So, she should have just followed her instincts when he'd asked her to move in. But she was so bloody afraid of breaking his heart and ruining everything, that she'd said yes.
And now she was paying for it.
Now not only had she lost her fiancé, she'd lost her best friend.
Well, one of them.
And then, suddenly, she knew where she was going. She made a sharp U-turn and headed back to London. It would likely be morning before she got there, but she didn't care. All she cared about at that moment was reaching her destination.
Just as she'd predicted, the sun was beginning to peek over its place behind the horizon when she parked in front of the house. 127 Elm Street.* It was a quaint house, just outside London, barely out of its boundaries. The windows were still dark, unsurprisingly; she hadn't expected him to be awake at this time. She was rarely awake at this time, and that was saying something.
For a moment, she wondered if she'd made a mistake coming here, if it really was a good idea. Perhaps she should wait until a more reasonable hour. But her exhaustion convinced her otherwise; if she got back in that car, she wouldn't last longer than ten minutes before falling asleep at the wheel. She left her bags in the car for the time being, not entirely sure if she would be staying here long. Not even sure why she was here in the first place.
She walked slowly up the path to the front door, and lifted a hand to knock. She hesitated again, battling with herself. It really was too early to be making a visit. But she needed to speak with him. Though he didn't exactly give the most stellar advice (that was her forte), he always knew just what to say to make her feel better.
So she knocked, the hollow drumming of the wood seeming to echo through her mind and pierce her soul.
Minutes passed, and there was no response from the other side of the door. She let out a sigh; perhaps she would come back at a later hour. Probably for the best.
However, just as she started to turn, intent on going back to the car, she heard a click as someone unlocked the door, and then it opened. Hermione gave a tense smile as a man with messy black hair, tired green eyes, and a shadow of scruff on his jaw and upper lip. Those eyes widened with surprise as he took in the young woman standing on his porch.
"Hermione?" he asked in a groggy voice.
She bit her lip. "Morning, Harry."
A/N: Yes, it's short, but there's more coming, and soon! Well . . . the first part was true, but I can't promise the latter. Fortunately, this week won't be anywhere near as busy as the last few have been, so I'll probably have some actual time to write! Huzzah! I'll try to update sometime in the next couple of days. In the meantime, I hope you liked this little opening.
*I just kinda picked a random address here. For all I know, this place doesn't exist. If it does, believe me, I had no idea. I've never been to London. Heck, I've never even been to Europe! The closest I've gotten is Manhattan. Which is an awesome place, by the way. But it's not London. Anyways, now that I'm done making absolutely NO sense whatsoever, I'll let you just leave a review. C'mon, you know you want to! ;D