The Return

Chapter 1

My dearest Hermione,

I don’t really know where to start, except to say that I am sorry for having to write this letter to you. I wish I could say that I am man enough to just talk to you about this, but I am not. I know if I waited to talk to you, everything would come out wrong and your gaze would weaken me, it always has. It would also make this so much harder, I’m leaving. I don’t know how long I will be gone or where I am going, but I need to do this. I know that we have made unspoken promises to each other for so much once the war was over. And I am so sorry that now that the time has come to fulfill those, I am leaving.

The only version of myself I can remember is this version, the fighter, the Harry that needs to defeat Voldemort. I don’t remember the version of myself I used to be before I heard the prophecy, and knew the fate of the world was on my shoulders. The fun-loving, free Harry I know I was when you met me, is lost. I need to find him again before I can give you anything. The only way I can think of to do this, is by leaving, going somewhere no one has ever heard of the famous boy-who-lived. I’m sorry I can’t bring you with me.

You’ve always been there for me, Hermione. I can never thank you enough for always believing in me, even when no one and I mean no one, else would. You gave me the strength to defeat him. I know if it were not for you, I would not have been successful. Your blind faith in me is something I will never understand. And it is something I need you to continue to have in me now. I know I never really thanked you enough for that, but I am now. Thank you Hermione, from the bottom of my heart.

Now for the hard part. That night, the night we’ve never talked about. There are some things that need to be said before I leave. I will never forget that night, Hermione, it was the best night of my life. I want you to know I never had any intention of what happened, to happen. I just wanted to make sure you were okay. It wasn’t only about what we did; it was the fact that my first time was with the woman I love the most. Yes, that is what I wanted to say the most, I love you Hermione Granger, with my whole heart. You are my true love and my whole life and I wanted you to know that. I’m sorry I was too weak to say something before, in person, that night even. But I am saying it now, and I hope that counts for something.

I want you to know that I will come back. I know that I cannot ask you to wait and I wouldn’t want you to miss out on experiencing life or love, if they came to you. But I will come back, a better man, a man more capable of loving you better and better able to fulfill those promises. I will come back. I love you.

Yours always,
Harry

Tears fell in slow streams down the flush cheeks of Hermione Granger as she clutched the roll of parchment in her hand. It was left on her nightstand, and she found it when she woke a few moments earlier. She looked towards the ceiling of her new flat, willing her tears to stop there painful descent down her face. She took slow, calming breaths and a creeping panic rose in her chest, threatening to break her heart. Her heart had a renewed strength to it after the events of the past few weeks. The war was over and the trio was finally starting to put the pieces of their lives together.

She looked around her flat at all the new furniture and all the unpacked boxes, the potential the space once held, no longer visible. There was one presence she always knew would be a part of the space, and now it was gone. She always imagined Harry would be a permanent fixture in her home, always over, sharing her life with her. But now it seemed he was gone from her life.

She over his letter again. “I will come back.” The words were meant to give her hope, but they filled her with dread. So many people during the war had spoken those words, but never returned. Strong, capable people like Harry, people who should have come back. People, who went to the market for some tea, then got caught in a deatheater attack and were gone in a second. She knew that the war was over, long over, but the situations seemed too parallel for her liking. She had no idea where Harry was going and who he would meet along the way. The threat was small, but it was still evident.

She always had faith in Harry, so why now did she doubt him? Now that danger no longer lurked around the corner waiting to snatch them, always reminding them their innocence was lost. Why now that it was all over, did her faith in him, in his words, seem to wane? He had even asked for her to have faith in him, something he has never done in the past.

They had so many hopes for the future once the war was over. They had told each other so much of what they wanted, all of which seemed so much alike. And in that similarity they had secretly promised to give the other everything, stuff that seemed impossible before. Those hopes and promises helped them survive the long battle and fierce war. They helped her hold her head up in the grimmest of situations. The future now, looked just as grim and she found it hard to hold her head high.

Despite the grief she felt, a feeling she had not felt since the memorial for those they lost, seemed to overcome her. Love flooded her heart. Yes, she too had always kept a secret. She too loved Harry and never told him. All those years ago, when Cho Chang had accused her of it and everyone found it funny, she had looked to Harry and felt the pain of unrequited love. She worried his focus would falter had he known of her weakness for him. He couldn’t afford distractions with the task he held in front of him. She wouldn’t allow him to fail, even if it meant holding in her feelings. But knowing now that he had felt the same, was wonderful, it was the light at the end of a dark tunnel.

Hermione walked to the window and looked out over London. The sun rising over the buildings bathed the capitol in a yellow-orange glow. She recalled the feeling of him coming to her last night. Even in her sleep she could feel him, as she always could. She remembered the feel of his lips on her forehead as he lightly kissed her there. She didn’t want to wake at the time, fearing it was her imagination, and he would disappear. Regretting it now, realizing he was disappearing anyway. She lightly traced the spot on her forehead, trying to remember what the feel of his lips was like.

She sighed as she wondered how long he would be gone. And when, if he did, would he return? She turned her head towards the frame on her nightstand, one of the first things she unpacked. It held a photo of Ron, Harry and her at the Quidditch World Cup, before the attack on the camp. Their faces were still painted; Ron was holding a Viktor Krum poster. They looked so young, but so happy. She looked at herself, staring at Harry, who was happily jumping up and down, with his arm around her.

“I love you and I will wait for you.” Hermione whispered to herself, her eyes on Harry. He smiled back at her from the photo, and then turned to Ron.