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It had been almost two years since anybody had seen Harry Potter, but the man standing before Hermione looked so different to the Harry she’d once known that it might as well not have been him at all. You could have walked past him on the street and thought it was someone else all together. 

He was taller still and broader. While not bulky he was well shaped with veins that protruded slightly as the wound across his hands and up his arms. Just the same as when he was a boy his skin was pale ivory. The strong, clean cut of his jaw was marred by a thin white scar running the length. Uneven stubble grew on his face and his jet black hair shadowed his features. And his eyes, his emerald green eyes did not shine. Instead they seemed to emanate an unfathomable sadness. He seemed much older than twenty. 

As Harry Potter and Hermione Granger stared at each other from opposite ends of the kitchen years of friendship rushed past them, and the funny thing was, it almost seemed irrelevant. 

He had left her, she had cried herself to sleep because of him, he had caused her more pain with one small farewell than most people could ever imagine in a lifetime.
No, Harry Potter was no friend of hers. 

He did not smile and nor did she. 

“What’re you doing here?” She asked, her voice was surprisingly even. It rung with cold hard fury. Her coffee coloured eyes glinted in the night. 

When Harry replied his voice was low, lower than she remembered it and husky. 

“I never said I wasn’t coming back.” 

“That wasn’t the question.” She pressed, her tone sounding harsher by the second. 
“Why are you here?” She shouted the last word and out of the corner of her eye saw Ginny start to cry again, burying her face in her hands. But she did not care; Harry Potter was taking her focus. 

“This is-“ He started, but Hermione cut across him. 

“No! You can’t do this to me! I thought you were dead Harry, dead! You can’t just take back something like that.
I spent two whole frickin’ years in the dark. Not one letter, one owl! Do you have any idea how many tears I’ve shed over you?” 

And she was crying now, the tears coming thick and fast, streaming down her face. He did not cry, but pressed his lips into a thin line and started at her, empty. The desperate expression in his eyes almost killed her. 

“I couldn’t, I can’t-“ She struggled to get the words out, her sobs meddled with her thoughts. Suddenly there were warm strong arms around her and someone strong was holding her. Gentle hands stroked her hair. A face was pressed against her head and wetness touched her skin. 

“I’m so sorry, so sorry.” He murmured into her hair, his voice cracking as he spoke. His familiar scent stirred memories and his soft words pulled at her heart strings. 

Visions flashed before her eyes- Harry sitting on the stool, his thin fingers grasping the sides so tightly it seemed it was life support to him. The sorting hat fell over his eyes and she could see his mouth pressed into the familiar unreadable line. 

Once again it was their first year and she was in the chamber under the school with him, as he prepared to pass through the flames to meet his fate. The determined gleam in his eyes, the earnest way he spoke to her. 

Harry was fourteen; they sat by the lake together. The wind blew his hair and he frowned out across the lake. She was the only support he had. 

Rumours were flying around, crazy insane gossip about the death of their invincible headmaster. Dumbledore was dead and for yet another time Hermione saw the blank look in Harry’s eye as he confirmed it was true. 

He was eighteen and so was she and together they huddled around Ron Weasley’s coffin, saying their last goodbyes. 

And now here they stood. 


With a force that surprised even herself Hermione wrenched herself away from Harry and pushed him back. The look of ancient sadness in his eyes deepened. He didn’t look shocked or hurt. She didn’t think he’d expected more. 

“No!” She repeated, advancing towards him, wand drawn. “I waited for you, for two whole BLOODY years! Why should I welcome you back? God, why should you even be back?” 

She was crying again, hysterical. He stood there, the corner of his mouth tugged down in a sorrowful grimace and eyes shining with tears he was trying to fight. Still, he made no move towards her. Hermione stalked closer to him, this time the fury seemed to radiate form her entire body. She stood but a meter before him, breathing deeply before she slumped, her head hung. When she spoke again it was barely a whisper. 

“Go away Harry. I don’t need you here.” 

His expression was unreadable as he backed away. He never took his eyes from her the whole time, they bored into her skull, communicating some vital concept that she could not grasp at. 


He paused with his hand on the door handle, turning back over his shoulder, tears leaking from the corner of his eye. 

“I’ll be right here if you need me.” He whispered, the lines of his face etched with remorse. “I’ll be waiting.” 

“Just go.” She pleaded her tone feeble. “Just, please…” 

So Harry Potter did what she told him too, because he always did. He walked out of her front door and into the storm then he twisted on the spot and was gone. 

He had disappeared just as abruptly as he had arrived, and for all Hermione knew, he might have never really been there at all. 

AN- short chappie, I know. But Harry's back *fan girl scream* Ha ha. Yay! Reviews anyone?

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