Harry and Hermione sat on the couch, staring at each other for an uncomfortable amount of time. It was Harry who broke their trance, shifting away from Hermione when he saw his dad approaching from the corner of his eye. James had his wand raised and Harry guessed he'd been waiting for them to finish snogging before coming to check on Hermione.
"Sorry," Hermione said, blushing as James took a seat on the coffee table across from her.
"For what? Kissing your fiancé? Not a crime, last I checked."
Yeah, except this isn't my fiancé, Hermione thought to herself.
She tried to blink back tears as James gently touched her chin and began to run a series of diagnostic spells, first on her head, then the rest of her body.
Harry had to sit on his hands as he watched his dad. He wanted to be the one doing these spells, but this Harry obviously wouldn't know about the advanced diagnostic spells typically performed on wizards who had been injured in the field.
He watched his dad cast the standard health checks first. Then a spell to assess her mental clarity, which was clean. He checked her energy levels, which were alarmingly low, especially her magical stamina. She'd probably struggle to cast anything more powerful than Lumos, but that was easily cured with a full night's rest. Harry guessed the mist had been using her magical power to do — whatever it had been doing to her.
Lastly, James cast a spell to check for Dark Magic. The results curled out of his wand tip in a spiral with several dots illuminating the spaces between the lines. "It's clean," James muttered to himself."
"Except for that." Harry pointed to a cluster of dots near the center of the spiral. "But that's the injury Dolohov gave her."
"You know how to read this?" James asked, dropping the spell as he turned to study Harry.
"I saw it a hundred times at St. Mungo's," Harry said with a shrug.
"This isn't a spell I thought they used there."
Shit. His dad was right. The healers didn't use this spell. They had special artifacts to check for the presence of Dark Magic. Harry knew that, he just wasn't thinking straight. He blamed the kiss and the fact that he could still taste her on his lips. And remember how she felt as she pressed her chest against—Focus!
"They said they typically use a magical object to check for Dark Spells, but that it was on loan, so they used that spell instead." Harry hoped his dad would believe the lie. James looked just as tired as Hermione, probably exhausted from running through the forest all day so hopefully, his brain wasn't firing as quickly as usual.
"Huh," James said, focusing back to Hermione, who had been watching Harry. She darted her eyes away when Harry turned back to her, looking like a First Year who'd been caught in the halls after curfew.
"You saw your energy levels?" James asked, looking curiously between Harry and Hermione.
Hermione nodded.
"Okay...You should eat, then get right to sleep. You'll feel a lot better in the morning."
Hermione nodded again and thanked James as he got to his feet. He grabbed Harry's untouched plate of food off the coffee table and waved his wand to reheat it.
When Hermione stood up, she felt immediately dizzy and swayed slightly on her feet. Harry caught her by the elbow to steady her. What was he doing? Had he always been this attentive? Yes. No, not always. Or maybe...she didn't know anymore. Hermione gave him a quick nod, careful not to look him in the eyes, before pulling her arm away.
Harry let out a small sigh and she chanced a look at him. He looked hurt. Damn. She felt bad and almost reached out to take his hand, but she really needed to not be touching Harry right now, so clenched her fists and kept her hands at her side.
She took a few steps toward Lily, who'd been standing at the side of the room and watching them. "Thank Merlin you're okay," she said, pulling Hermione into a firm embrace. "You scared me. You scared all of us."
"What, uh, flew at me?" Hermione asked, remembering that glowing thing in the forest that had caused her to jump outside the protective bubble.
"A Fire Lizard."
"What?"
"I think it was one of the Liu ancestors responding to your message from a few days ago. A voice filled the area, speaking in Mandarin, but we didn't catch it. We were focused on you."
"Oh," Hermione said with a shrug. "That's pretty awful timing."
"That's what Harry said." Lily smiled at Harry over Hermione's shoulder, but Hermione kept her gaze forward.
Lily started tidying Hermione's hair, slowly combing her fingers through its length and pushing several curls behind her ears. Hermione's eyes filled with tears again. She took a shaky breath. Damn. She was a wreck. Lily gave her a comforting smile and pulled her into another quick hug, murmuring, "You're safe now," before guiding her to the table.
As Hermione took a seat, James placed a plate of food in front of her. There was a small chicken breast topped with a cream sauce, a few broccoli florets, and a roll. Hermione tore a few pieces off the roll and popped them into her mouth as Harry took a seat next to her, in front of a plate that looked identical to hers.
Lily explained that she and James had already eaten, but that they didn't mind sitting with Harry and Hermione. After several moments of awkward silence, Lily started telling a stupid story about a neighbor of theirs at Godric's Hollow, with an annoying puppy.
Hermione wasn't paying attention. She was too busy trying to ignore the feeling of Harry's eyes on her as she moved food around her plate. After forcing down three bites of chicken, half the roll, and a piece of broccoli, Hermione excused herself from the table.
Lily put a hand on her arm, holding her in place. "Hermione. You need to tell us what you saw. Bottling it in isn't healthy."
How blunt. This was just how Hermione was. She liked to face problems head-on. How many times had she said these very words to her friends? But she couldn't do it now. Not when she herself didn't understand what had happened in her mind.
"Me and you... no. I'm done."
Hermione shook her head. "Not now, Lily. Later. I promise." She looked at James and said quickly, "Thanks for dinner and for all the work you did today. I'm going to take a shower and get to bed. Goodnight."
She swiftly left the table before anyone could call her back. Once in her room, she gathered her shower things and a clean pair of pajamas and disappeared into the shower room, relieved Harry hadn't tried to follow her upstairs. When she was in the shower, under warm water, she let out a long sigh.
Tears fell down her face, mingling with the water from the shower as she finally let herself think about what the mist had made her see. Losing Harry. Countless times. And not just to death. The scene in the Department of Mysteries...that one had felt so real...and plausible. It could still happen, couldn't it?
No. Harry and Hermione were stronger than that. Weren't they? She rested her head against the cold tile in the shower as she cried.
And then there was the kiss… She'd kissed him. How was she going to explain this to Ron? How was she going to explain it to herself?
Hermione groaned. She didn't have any room in her mind for that kiss. What she needed to unpack was the places in her mind that mist had taken her.
"It plays out your heart's deepest fears."
Hermione conjured a sponge, filled it with soap, and began to scrub her leg as flashbacks swirled through her head.
"Harry's gone."; — "He died."; — "He's not coming back."
She moved to her other leg and started scrubbing harder.
"I'm just lost and scared—just like you and—I was searching for something and a part of me knew I had to do it with you. It's always us, isn't it?"
She moved to her middle and violently rubbed soap into the wound.
"Me and you... no. I'm done."
She let out a wail and dropped the sponge. Her heart's deepest fear was... losing Harry. Never once had she seen herself lose Ron.
She'd been forced to watch Harry leave her so many times and after realizing what it meant, she'd kissed him and it had been...so much more than a kiss. It was years of deep friendship, repressed longing, want, and unconditional love, in a single action. And now that she'd done it, there was no wiping it clean, no matter how hard she scrubbed.
Harry was sitting on the edge of the bed with his head in his hands when Hermione walked back into the room. He looked up and watched her freeze in the doorway. She was wearing her pajamas—the trousers this time with a long-sleeved shirt. Her skin was still pink from the shower, and her hair was slightly damp, falling in loose curls over her shoulders. Her mouth was hanging open slightly and Harry couldn't help but think about how kissing it had felt, and how a part of him wanted to do it again.
His stomach lurched. This was why he was here, even though she'd made it clear over dinner she wanted nothing to do with him. He was channeling his inner-Hermione and deciding to confront this issue before it became any worse. "Er—hello," he began. Okay, not the best start.
Hermione nodded and closed the tent flap, then crossed the room to her trunk. She busied herself with putting her things away, but that only took two seconds and soon, she was forced to turn around and face Harry.
"We should talk about it," Harry said.
"I told your mum I'm not ready to talk about it."
"Not what happened in your head—though we're definitely discussing that, and soon. I'm talking about what happened after."
"Oh." Hermione shrugged. "Your dad checked me over, we had dinner, and I took a shower. What is there to talk about?"
He glared at her as he rose from the bed and went to stand in front of her. "We kissed," he said significantly.
"We've kissed several times on this trip. We're pretending to be engaged."
"This one was different," he argued.
"We were stressed and overwhelmed and—and—I'd just woken up and you must have been worried about me while I was out, so we kissed. It was like—a release. But it didn't mean anything."
Harry clenched his fists at his side. "Maybe the first kiss was all of that but the second one was just us kissing. You and I, not the other Harry and Hermione. Not because we were stressed, and not because we were putting on a show."
He was close to her now, just a foot away, and his eyes darted down to her lips. Had they always been this alluring? Or maybe, now that he knew what it was like to really kiss her, there was no going back. Like how when he got his glasses at seven years old and could see things clearly for the first time.
He lowered his voice before continuing. "We need to talk about this because it wasn't nothing and I—I sort of want to do it again."
Shit. He'd said it. He hadn't meant to. But it was out and, well, at least he finally had her attention.
She looked devastated, which hurt Harry more than it should have. "It wasn't real," she whispered.
Harry flinched. "Not real?" In a louder voice, he added, "No. You don't get to do that. You don't get to go telling everyone they repress their feelings too much, then turn around and do the same thing! Pretending that kiss was nothing is just as bad as pretending it never happened and I'm not going to let you do either. We're going to talk about it. Now."
"It's not worth discussing! Okay?"
"Yes, it is."
"No, it's not," she said, pushing past him to put some distance between them. When it was clear Harry had no plans to drop the topic, she added, "It had nothing to do with you and me, Harry! It was about my mountain of stress, your emotional turmoil, and your relationship with your parents!"
Harry was beginning to wonder if that mist had caused permanent damage to her brain. But the diagnostic spells had looked fine. Still, she was making no sense. Why weren't they sitting on the bed, talking coolly and rationally through what had happened? That's what he'd expected. Not this bizarre argument. He took a deep breath to calm himself. "What the hell are you talking about?"
She sat down on the bed and began talking down into her lap. "You had an awful childhood," she said gently. "We never say the word but, frankly, you were abused. And because of that, you strive to be the type of person everyone wants you to be, trying to earn that love you never had growing up."
Harry's legs were feeling wobbly so he went to sit next to her on the bed. He had no idea where she was going with this nor how it had anything to do with their kiss. He wanted to cut her off, since he hated when people tried to tell him things about himself—especially when they included his time with the Dursleys like this—but Hermione was one of the only exceptions. Perhaps the only one.
"That's one of the reasons I wanted to bring you here," she continued, still looking down. "I wanted you to see how much your parents love you. I know you know it, but I wanted you to feel it. I thought it would help."
"I'm glad you did," he whispered.
Hermione nodded. "And now we're here."
She took a long pause before speaking again. "We're here and I'm in the middle of a mini-life crisis, as you know, and you're—you're with your parents and you want to please them, obviously, and be that person they want you to be and this—us—" she waved her hand in the space between them, "—is something they obviously want. Combine that with your own mess of emotions from being here, being jealous of the other Harry, fearing what it's going to be like to have to go back, not to mention, the stress of the trip. I just think—I think that's what was behind the kiss. It's the emotions, it's you trying to please your parents, it's the fact that we're familiar to each other in this foreign world but it's...it's not us."
Harry stared at her. Was she right? Was this just Harry confusing his mess of feelings with feelings for her? It made sense—sort of. And wasn't this what he wanted? For them to sit down and talk calmly and rationally about what had happened. To have Hermione explain what was going on and make everything better, like she always did?
Harry felt hollow. It was like her words were bouncing around the inside of his body, but they weren't sticking. Something was off. He opened his mouth to say so, to tell her that while her explanation made sense, and was very logical, it didn't match the feelings in his heart. But before he got a chance to say the words, he saw a few tears fall onto her lap.
"I went on this path of self-discovery and I dragged you along with me," she said, her voice uncharacteristically weak. "But it was wrong. This was all a big mistake."
"No," he whispered.
She finally turned to look at him, her brown eyes wide and filled with tears. "It was just supposed to be fourteen days. A chance to see the world, meet your parents, maybe fix a bit of what was broken between us." She looked back down at her lap and he watched her twirl the other Hermione's engagement ring around her finger. "We were just pretending," she whispered, so softly he could barely hear. "It wasn't supposed to feel real."
"You just said it wasn't real. What is it? Real, or not?"
Harry regretted the words as soon as they were out of his mouth. They caused Hermione to collapse in on herself. She wrapped her arms around her middle and began shaking violently as sobs overtook her.
"No, shit. Sorry. I didn't mean—" He placed a hand on her arm and she flinched and shifted away from him. He felt the pain of the rejection as acutely as if she'd slapped him.
"I—I can't do this," she said through her tears. "It—it's too much Harry. I can't be here anymore."
"No," he said, wishing he could do more to comfort her. He saw it all slipping away. Saw himself going downstairs and admitting everything to his parents, then saying goodbye. But it was too soon. He was supposed to have more time.
Harry got off the bed and knelt on the ground in front of Hermione, being careful not to touch her. "Hermione. Look at me."
She just continued to cry into her hands.
"Please, Hermione?"
When she finally looked up at him, he placed his hands on her knees, letting out a sigh of relief when she didn't flinch or pull away.
"I shouldn't have kissed you," he began. "You're right. This whole experience has been very emotional. Then you were hurt, and I couldn't help you, and I was so glad you were back that I—I got carried away. And when we're back, I'm going to tell Ron and Ginny all about it. How much of a mess I've been, how I took things too far and— maybe you can help with that part? Tell them what you just told me? And Ron will probably punch me and Ginny will hit me with one of those Bat-Bogey Hexes but it's what I deserve."
Hermione bit her lip as she looked into his pleading eyes. She knew what he was doing here. He was giving her an out. He was offering to claim responsibility for the whole thing, when they both knew she'd been the one to kiss him, both times. He was proposing they ignore the feelings hanging in the air between them, the ones they'd half-admitted to tonight, and carry on as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened.
"Can we stay, Hermione? Please? Can we finish out the trip?"
How could she possibly say no to him when he was looking at her like that? Vulnerable, desperate. Harry, who had been forced to suffer more in ten years than most people had in a lifetime, but was still one of the kindest, most compassionate people she knew. How could she deny him this one request? She nodded.
"Thank you," he breathed, leaning forward to rest his forehead on her knees. And then, it was too much again, and she needed to be away from him. She carefully pulled out of his grasp and crawled to the top of the bed. She pulled the covers over her body, then curled up on her side and started crying again.
The bed shifted and there was a firm hand on her back. She wrapped her arms around her knees, pulling herself into a tighter ball as tears silently fell down her cheek, making her pillow wet.
"Fuck," Harry said. "You were right about me. I really can be a selfish prat sometimes."
"I never said that."
"I'm paraphrasing."
She turned onto her other side to face him. He was sitting up in bed with his legs stretched out in front of him. He currently had his glasses off and was pinching the bridge of his nose. "I'm not going to force you to stay here against your will," he said when he saw her looking at him, lowering his hand from his face. "I promised myself a long time ago I'd never let anyone hurt you, then I was a shit friend and did it myself. And today, I had to watch you in pain for hours and now—I'm an idiot. Let's go. You want to go back, so we should go back. Just give me a few hours with my parents, okay?"
Hermione was quiet. He reached out and started stroking her hair, running his fingers through her damp curls. Hermione closed her eyes and took several deep breaths. "We shouldn't go back tonight," she said with her eyes still closed. "I'm about to pass out and I'm a wreck. I don't like to make big decisions when I'm feeling like this. I'm going to sleep on it and we—we can talk about it tomorrow. Decide then."
She already knew what she was going to decide. When she thought of going back—of stepping out of that portal into the Department of Mysteries—a chill ran down her spine. How would Harry handle their return? Would things play out as they had in her head?
She took another, shaky breath. Why was it always like this? Why was she making her decisions for Harry? She should be making them for Ron, or, better yet, herself. What did she want?
She had absolutely no idea. At that thought, she started crying anew.
"Shit. What can I do to help you?" he asked, sounding a little panicked. She let out a half-sob/half-laugh despite herself. He'd always hated crying witches. It's one of the things he liked so much about Ginny. She wasn't weepy. Ginny. Hermione squeezed her eye shut and started crying harder.
Harry shifted on the bed again and she could tell from the warmth emanating off him, that he was right in front of her, just a few inches away. "Can I hug you?" he whispered. She could feel his breath on her forehead.
She knew it was a really bad idea, especially given what she'd realized about her feelings for him today, but she nodded her head anyway. He snaked his arms around her and she burrowed her head in his chest, savoring his warmth, his familiar smell, and the comfort of being wrapped up in strong arms.
They stayed like that for a long time. Hermione had finally stopped crying and she could feel her mind drifting in and out of sleep. She knew she should pull away and give Harry some space. He needed to wash up and change into his pajamas, but she stayed in place.
"Hey," he whispered.
She hummed so he'd know she was listening.
"What did the mist make you see?"
She waited a long time before responding. "I lost everything. The things I love, the things that make my life make sense. I lost them. Over and over again."
He let out a sigh and pulled her closer. "It wasn't real."
I'm not so sure.
Day Eight
When Hermione woke the following morning, she was warm and her head hurt. It took her a long time to fight her way through the cloud of sleep. She was on her back and tried to turn onto her side, but there was a weight on her, keeping her pinned to the bed. She forced her eyes open and turned her head to find Harry, asleep on his stomach with his arm draped over her. The events of last night hit her like a bucket of cold water.
Bollocks. Not a great way to wake up after a night like that. She slunk out from under Harry's arm, stumbling slightly out of the bed, then grabbed a clean pair of clothes and ran to the shower room.
She assessed her appearance in the mirror as she brushed her teeth for a full five minutes. She looked terrible. Her eyes were still puffy from all the crying she'd done last night, her face was splotchy, there were lines from the sheets pressed into her skin, and her hair was a disaster since she'd gone to bed with it still wet.
Hermione spit out her toothpaste and went to work on her hair. She combed out the knots with her fingers and pulled it into a bun on the top of her head. That would have to do for now. Next, she splashed water on her face. That was better, but not by much. She sighed, changed her clothes, and went down to the kitchen.
It was early and she relished having the tent to herself. She needed to sort through her thoughts and it was so much easier to do that when she was alone. As she waited for the water for her tea to boil, she let the scenes from the day before play through her mind.
Based on the facts, she appeared to be in love with Harry. Or...maybe not. Maybe the mist had played out this Hermione's worst fears. This was her body. Her heart.
Those were your memories. You're reaching.
The kettle started whistling and Hermione took a break to pour the water in the teapot.
Okay, maybe she did love Harry. But that didn't mean it was romantic love. It was possible to love a friend very deeply.
More than your own fiancé? Is that really okay?
It is if it's not romantic.
Have you already forgotten the kiss?
Hermione groaned, then poured her tea into a mug and went outside. She walked along the edge of the protective wards as she continued to think, occasionally stopping to sip her tea.
She couldn't forget about that reasoned argument she'd come up with after Harry had confronted her. It made perfect sense and explained why they'd been so caught up in that kiss. But it was bollocks and she knew it. At least, it was bollocks when it came to her. She was pretty sure that was what was behind Harry's feelings. Why else would he suddenly be interested in her, after years of not giving her a second look?
Hermione sighed and stopped to take another gulp of tea. She didn't need to figure everything out this second. She just needed to decide if she was going to go back home or stay here for another seven days. Staying would be better for Harry and going would be better for Ron. But what would be better for her? What did she want?
She took a breath and stopped at a small pond, the farthest spot from the tent that was still inside the protective wards. She dried the grass with her wand and took a seat near a large tree, facing the water.
What did she want? Easy, she wanted to stay. She could feel that in her heart. The "why" behind it...that was harder to figure out. But did it matter? She'd resolved to do what she wanted. She could unravel the motivations behind it later. Or never, that was also a good plan.
She stayed there for a while, long after her mug was empty, just watching the fish swim around the pond and occasionally break the surface, sending ripples through the water.
"Hey."
Hermione jumped. She'd forgotten for a moment that she was in a world with other people in it. "Hey," she said as Harry took a seat next to her, then placed a plate piled with eggs and sausages at her feet.
"You scared the shit out of me," he said, a little sternly. "You were gone and I searched the area three times before finding you. You're kind of hidden behind this tree here. I thought you'd left me behind."
"I'd never do that," she said to the pond.
"I know. That was my first thought, that you'd left me, but I dismissed it and thought instead that the Aussies had come and stolen you away."
"No. I've just been here."
"Yeah."
"Thanks for the breakfast." Hermione picked up the fork on the plate and ate a small bite of eggs.
"It was the least I could do."
They were quiet for several minutes and Hermione could feel Harry's unspoken question in the air, floating heavily between them. But he was too polite to press her. After finishing one of the sausages, she turned to him and said, "I think we should stay."
He struggled to keep his face blank, but there was an unmistakable glimmer of hope in his eyes. "Are you sure? Because I support you either way. I'm not just saying that. I promise."
"We have more Wonders to see. Let's stay."
Harry nodded and she turned back to her plate. He moved his gaze to the sky and watched the sunrise as she slowly ate her food, suddenly ravenous now that her big decision was out of the way.
"Harry?" she asked once she'd eaten her fill and had pushed the plate away from her.
"Yeah?"
"We can't be a pretend couple anymore. No more hugs, no kisses, not even hand-holding. I'm sure your parents will notice but they'll just have to think we're in a fight or something."
"Yeah. Okay," he said, his throat constricting slightly. He was disappointed, even though he'd been about to suggest the same thing. He'd decided this morning, while taking a shower, that when he told Ron and Ginny about how he'd taken things a little too far with Hermione, he wanted to be able to follow it up with, "and I didn't touch her for the rest of the trip."
He swallowed back the lump in his throat and bent forward to pick up her plate and empty mug. "I can take this back for you."
"Okay. Thanks."
"And—uh—Fall's End. We're ready to go when you are."
She turned back to the water. "I'm not going."
"What?"
"You all go on. Really. I want to stay here, enjoy this quiet, and keep far away from that mist."
"What about enlightenment? I thought—you've been chasing that unknowable thing, yeah? You don't want to try —?"
"No," she said, cutting him off. "Why don't you just tell me about what you learned when you're back?"
Harry shook his head. He'd never seen Hermione give up the opportunity to learn something new. She seemed broken. Just yesterday she'd been in such good spirits. Lively and beautiful—which wasn't to say she wasn't beautiful now. She was. Like, heartbreakingly so.
The way the golden rays of the sky were illuminating her features, the way a few curls had escaped her bun and were framing her face, the way her eyes shone in the light, wide and thoughtful. But then—there was a somberness hanging over her. He could sense it in the way she was moving, speaking, even breathing. Broken really was the best word for it. And he had no idea how to put her back together.
Harry wanted to reach out for her and embrace her. He wanted to rub her back as he reassured her that everything was going to be okay. But he'd promised not to touch her. He considered telling her how much he cared about her, but worried she'd find that just as bad as touching her, if not worse. So instead of all that, he gave her a solemn nod before returning to the tent.
Not long after Harry left, Lily appeared and took the exact spot Harry had recently occupied. Hermione wondered distantly if they'd planned that.
"I hear you're not coming with us," Lily said, pulling her knees up to her chest and leaning into Hermione.
"Yeah. I had plenty of excitement yesterday. You can tell me how it is when you return."
"We're not going without you. And I'm not saying that to guilt you into coming," Lily added in a rush. "We're all fine to skip it."
Hermione's head snapped toward the older witch. "What? No. James did all that work yesterday."
"James will live," Lily said simply.
Hermione expected Lily to leave after that, but she stayed. She rested her chin on her knees and sat quietly next to Hermione. Hermione wondered if Lily was waiting for her to say something. She wouldn't mind confiding in someone, especially someone like Lily, but she had no idea where to start.
As if sensing that Hermione was struggling to speak, Lily turned and fixed her with that intense stare of hers, the one that had the power to stop Hermione's heart and make her do stupid things that made no sense.
"What's going on with you?" Lily asked.
"I don't want enlightenment," she said honestly. "I thought I did—before, but..."
I'm afraid of what I'll learn, she thought. What she ended up saying was, "I don't."
Lily nodded and turned back toward the water. "Harry and James think whatever you saw in the mist broke your spirit, but I know better."
When she didn't say anything else for several moments Hermione asked, "You do?"
Lily hummed before turning toward Hermione again. "You were broken before. You've been broken this whole time. You're not the Hermione I knew from before this whole rift. Beginning to find peace with the horrors you were forced to face in the war, and head over heels in love with my son."
She waited for Hermione to defend herself but Hermione stayed quiet. There was nothing to say. She wasn't that witch.
"I don't mean to say you don't love him anymore, it's clear you do, but you no longer seem happy about it."
Damn. She was astute. Was she a Legilimens? Hermione carefully dropped her gaze and looked back at the lake.
"What changed?" Lily pressed. "Something big. Is it something with your parents? Are you sick? Did the wound worsen somehow? Perhaps you're pregnant? Or maybe it's something to do with Harry. Did something happen there?"
Lily reached for Hermione's cheek and turned Hermione to face her. "You can tell me, Hermione. Even if it has to do with Harry, I'll understand. I know he has flaws and I also know how few people you have in your life to confide in."
For the first time since Hermione had arrived in this world, she was jealous of the other Hermione. Because although she had to live with a nasty wound on her side, which never stopped causing her pain, she seemed to have found that thing Hermione was looking for. A sense of purpose and belonging.
She had a fiancé she loved, and had probably never come close to cheating on. She had a simple job that seemed to bring her joy. And she had this incredible woman as a surrogate mother. Who wasn't just a kind, loving, brilliant witch, but a muggleborn, who understood Hermione so much more than Molly ever would. And in her world, Lily was dead, killed before her life had even been allowed to start.
Hermione pressed her forehead against her knees as she started to cry. "It's none of those things," she said through her tears. Lily wrapped her arms around Hermione and rubbed her back as she cried.
When Hermione's tears had subsided, she looked up and saw Lily watching her with that familiar, penetrating stare. She couldn't meet that gaze for longer than a few seconds and had to turn back toward the pond.
"What did you see yesterday?" Lily asked softly, gently stroking Hermione's hair.
"I saw Harry leaving me," Hermione said, relieved to finally have someone to confide in. "I watched it happen in a variety of ways, from him dying to him walking away. And every time, it tore me apart."
Lily's hand stopped and she pulled it out of Hermione's hair. She waited for Hermione to face her before saying, "Why did that scare you so much?"
Hermione shrugged and looked back at the water. "I guess a part of me believes it could happen. That one day, he might decide to leave."
Lily hummed and shifted her gaze forward, watching the sky like Harry had been earlier. Hermione sniffed and wiped her tears with the hem of her shirt. Eventually Lily started talking, keeping her eyes on the clouds moving across the sky.
"When I first figured out I loved James, and how much, I was so scared. I pulled away from him for a few months and I think he was terrified I was going to dump him. He became especially obnoxious, which is his way of coping with hard things, and I loved him anyway. A little more, actually.
"I loved him with my whole heart. No, more than that. With every cell in my body, every thought in my head, and every ounce of magic in my veins. I loved him when he was on a high and, more significantly, when he was being truly awful. And I convinced myself it was impossible for him to love me back, at least not with that magnitude."
She turned to Hermione, who was watching her with tears in her eyes. "But he did," Lily said with a small smile. She reached out and wiped an errant tear from Hermione's cheek. "You love people like that—with your whole being. You love Harry like that and maybe you're scared, like I was, but you shouldn't be. He loves you just as much. More now, than when I last saw you together, which I didn't think was possible."
Hermione's heart skipped a beat. "What?" she breathed.
Lily let out a small laugh. "I know you love facts, so I'll list some for you: First, he trusts you implicitly. Whether you're asking him to follow a strange man he's never met onto an invisible path in the sky or guiding him to a Tear in the Veil. I think he'd follow you anywhere. Which is related to the second thing: he can't be away from you for very long. He always chooses the spot next to you—have you noticed that? And if he's at the other side of the room, he'll make his way over to you. I don't think he even knows he's doing it. And once he's with you, he can't keep his hands off of you."
Hermione blushed and looked down at her knees.
"His eyes light up when you laugh," Lily continued, "especially at one of his jokes. And every time we've seen a spectacular sight on this trip, he's looked at you, because I think he enjoys them more through your eyes. And yesterday, when you fell out of the bubble, he jumped after you with no thought of protecting himself. If I hadn't cast a Bubble-Head Charm on him, he would have inhaled that mist, right alongside you."
Hermione furrowed her brow. What? That wasn't like him at all. He was a trained Auror. He knew better.
"And as he watched you suffer through those visions," Lily said, her voice softer now, "he never left your side. I could tell he was feeling your pain as if it were his own."
When Lily was finished talking, her words continued to echo in Hermione's brain. No. Lily was mistaken. She was very clever and obviously intuitive, but she didn't have all the facts. She was seeing what she expected to see. Harry and Hermione were close friends, the closest, and they were in a strange world, in strange countries, which made them cling to each other more than normal. Lily had misinterpreted that as love.
Although Hermione's own feelings were a complicated mess she couldn't begin to unravel, one thing she knew for certain was that Harry didn't love her; not like that. He'd never loved her like that and he never would. So, any feelings she might have for him needed to stop. Maybe this was why she'd wanted to stay, so she could spend the next several days figuring out how to leave these romantic feelings for Harry in this world. If she brought them back with her, she'd lose everything.
Her mind drifted to the conversation she'd had with Miller, the Unspeakable. The one she'd told Harry about in Cairo.
"How did you do it? Just a few months ago you were stuck and then this. I never would have thought to try a Switching Spell. It's so...simple, elegant, and brilliant. This is going to revolutionize Transfiguration as we know it."
"I know," Miller said smugly.
"Are you going to tell me how you figured it out?"
"It's extreme," he warned.
"I expect no less from you."
He leaned in and said, as if it was some big secret, "I took my notes, five years of research and study, and burned them."
"What?"
"And then, I Obliviated myself. To ensure I wouldn't just go down the same path when I started it all up again."
"No! That is exceedingly dangerous."
He nodded. "And it didn't work. So, a year later, I did it again. And then...Eureka."
"That's your advice? Burn it down? Start over?"
"It works. When you're well and truly stuck, that's the only way."
"But it's so...severe," she said with a wince. "I'm not sure I'll ever be that desperate to solve a problem."
"If you're not that desperate, you're not solving the right problem."
Hermione was desperate alright, but she'd only thought she'd lose her job. If she brought this...revelation back home with her, she'd lose everything. Ron, first and foremost. Then Ginny and all the rest of the Weasleys. And Harry… if things really blew up, he wouldn't choose her over everyone else. He'd never done that before, so she'd be naïve to expect him to start now.
Lily's voice drew her attention back to the present. "That was supposed to make you feel better, but you look worse than when I came out here."
Hermione lifted her head and gave Lily a teary smile before leaning against her side. Lily wrapped an arm around her. "It's okay to be lost sometimes, Hermione. It happens to all of us. We're going to get you back. But for that to happen, you need to lean on the people who love you. Open up, tell Harry what you saw, tell him why it scared you, and give him a chance to defend himself before believing the worst of him."
Hermione rested her head on Lily's shoulder and closed her eyes. "Promise me," Lily said sternly.
"I promise," Hermione whispered, with no idea if she was going to keep her word.
