We Were There

A/N: So, I got a beta! Thanks PaddySnuffles( FF.NET)! I can't seem to thank you enough! Just a fair warning, though, I may add onto this chapter. For my tastes, It's terribly short. But, that won't be any time soon! So no worries!

Disclaimer: I do not make money, nor will I. This is a fanfiction. I don't own Harry Potter, and never will-as saddening as that is.
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Chapter 1
March 26, 2001


There the four of them were—all smiling with each other, laughing over absolutely nothing. The Leaky Cauldron never seemed so bustling as far as business was concerned, though the four old friends practically spent their nights at this place. Hermione only came to simply enjoy the company of the three who really drank. They always made her laugh, which she truly needed to do. She loved to observe people and the way they reacted to different environments.

In Ginny's case, she came to drink her pain away Hermione calculated. She didn't really smile when alone or when she looked deep in thought. Whenever they found time to spend with each other, Ginny was always the first to think up an excuse to leave dreadfully early. She no longer smiled her classic grin that forced everyone else, no matter the state of their mood was, to mirror her happiness. Perhaps something was on her mind, thought Hermione.

Ron, on the other hand, drank until his heart was content, always expected to make an arse of himself. In truth, he was funny while completely pissed. He seemed to radiate from the relaxation he received from the alcohol. And like his sobered self, he remained completely clueless amongst the struggles that took place right beneath his nose. Perhaps he was too tall to pay notice to the small hints dropped his way.

Harry had a different story. No longer did he drink himself until overly intoxicated. It was the moments some God somewhere gave him with Hermione. He treasured any amount of alone time with his old and dear friend. Besides, it was nice to not have Ginny pestering him about her woes. Of course he tried to keep his feelings and actions at bay, but in the passing weeks, Hermione needed him more than she ever had. Harry couldn't refuse to go to her when she called specifically for him.

According to Harry's observations, Hermione was a homebody, never really stepping out of Ron's flat. Only Harry knew why. Her parents were struggling with their marriage, while her father was just diagnosed with leukemia. When Harry had gone to visit her father when he was still at the hospital, the doctors told Mrs. Granger that it was at such a weak stage. Everyone thought confidently it would be cured within no time. But that was back in December. It was now March. So much for quickly going away. Harry sighed.

Deep in thought, Hermione reflected on her relationship with Ronald Weasley. She never talked about Ron as much as she had in past. She never seemed to be alone time with him. And then Ron always appeared to be at work more often than not. He never came home at a decent time, which to Hermione was right around six to seven in the evening. And she didn't forget that Ron never showed an interest in at least trying to arrive any earlier than his usual one in the morning. Hermione herself was an early riser, but Ronald was always gone before she rose from her sleep at five in the morning. She was lost and felt that she needed a few answers. She'd rather not read into anything too deeply. Ron could simply be tied up at work. Perhaps Harry could provide her those answers.

Ron's head fell to the table, making their beverages and their cups rattle. Hermione sighed, while she turned to look at the full room of folks she vaguely recognized from Hogwarts. Harry placed a hand on hers that rested on the wooden table. Hermione's head jolted back to him smiling, "What is it?" Her head cocked to the side. She'd never looked more spectacular to Harry.

Harry just shook his head, tightening his grip over her hand, "Tell me what's wrong with you." It seemed to be a friendly command.

Her countenance fell to a frown and her eyes were torn from him, causing him to feel colder, "There's nothing wrong with me, Harry."

Unsatisfied with her answer, his eyebrows were brought closer together. Hermione quickly glanced to him from the side of her eyes. Harry noticed she closed them. Her other hand fell on top of his that still possessed hers tenderly, but she did not expand her answer. "Hermione, we've known each other since we were eleven. I know you inside and out. There shouldn't be anything you can't tell me," he responded quietly.

It had been their fourth year that he fell from his high wall he still had even with Ron and Hermione. That year he'd fallen in complete and unconditional love. It had been the night of the Yule Ball, when he saw her coming down the staircase. He felt all emotion drain from his face. Suddenly Pavarti held no comparison to his bookworm friend. When he saw her with Krum, he'd been devastated. Ron responded in such a way that Harry could tell he fancied Hermione.

That realization nearly killed him. But Ron was his best friend, so he found it in his loyalty to suppress his love for her, since Ron had liked her longer. From that night on, Harry occasionally used his brotherly role in Hermione's heart to steal a hug, a smile, a moment alone with her. His fifth year was overall his worst year, since Ron showed his affections a bit more openly, despite the blind eye from Hermione. So, he decided to romance Cho Chang, his crush from fourth year. Before the Christmas Holiday, he'd had sex with her.

It was the worst mistake he'd made. Somewhere in the back of Harry's mind, he figured he could bottle up his feelings for her if he slept with another. The idea backfired when he lay awake on the bed next to Cho, intoxicated in his perverted thoughts towards Hermione. Cho created a passionate pervert, and it took everything he had to be the same old Harry while around Hermione.

In his sixth year Ron took the girl Lavender Brown as his girlfriend. That'd been Ron's downfall in Harry's mind. Harry thought that if he had the audacity to overlook Hermione for someone else, he didn't deserve to be with her. No one did, in truth. She was so pure, so good, so innocent. It wasn't fair. While she was such a beautiful person, Harry dwelled a darkness no one knew but him. It was his sixth year that he had decided to seek devastation upon Ron.

Ginny conveniently wore her feelings for Harry upon her sleeve; at least Harry noticed her secret glances she'd made to him when they passed each other in the halls of Hogwarts. It was then that Harry deviated the plan to eventually bring him to the arms of his Hermione.

But his plans were abruptly forced to be placed backseat to his journey to seek out, find, and destroy the Horcruxes. If he didn't destroy them, it may have been perilous for Hermione since she was muggle-born. No. He refused to deviate further into his plan. There was no sense in it if Hermione would ultimately be in any danger. He couldn't bear it if Voldemort had defeated him, so he kept Hermione close to his heart, always his reason to keep persevering.

He remembered the time when they were caught and taken to Malfoy Manor. His thoughts stopped there. He never wanted to relive that torment - her cries against the cruciatus curses sent to her by Bellatrix Lestrange.

"Harry, what are you thinking about?" she suddenly questioned, breaking him from his thoughts of his past – their past.

He shook his head. "I'm just trying to go through deductive reasoning as to what you're dealing with," he lied.

She sighed, letting go of his hands. Instantly, he felt numb and alone. Her touch always quenched his thirst to be loved by her. She silenced his 'what-if' sort of thinking most of the time. She made him feel like he was something to her. He hoped he was. She stood up and slid Ginny further away from Harry. Hermione took her place beside Harry on the bench. She hunched over, leaning closer to him, her hand touching his upper arm, near his left shoulder. He felt complete again. He smelled the scent of her hair—jasmine. He closed his eyes when she rested her head where her hand was. She took his hands and he felt breathing hitch, almost as if she stifled a cry.

"Why do you think I'm like this, Harry? It's always because of him," she replied in a whisper.

Her head was brought up, his index finger under her chin. He somehow smiled, though he felt a bit of mixed emotions—anger, hatred, jealousy, love, contentment, sadness, and love. "How so?"

She rested her forehead against his. He inhaled quietly, becoming simply intoxicated with her. She didn't seem to notice, "You've seen how he has increased his working schedule. He's gone from five thirty in the morning and won't return to his flat until after midnight."

Harry's smile faded when she described Ron's place as 'his flat'. Always had she described it to be 'home'. "Work isn't that demanding—not lately. I was actually asked to stop working so many hours myself. There haven't been many reasons for so many of us Aurors to go. I maybe work only five hours. Perhaps he is preparing something for your birthday that calls for such demand?"

She shook her head timidly. "I think it's a mix of a few things…"

"What do you mean?" was all he said.

She nearly looked away, but his gaze held hers possessively, desperate for her to open up. "In our seventh year, his worst fear was that I preferred you to him, though this is not something that's new to your ears, I'm sure," she paused. "Perhaps he feels the need to exceed your performance at work to keep my love? And yet, he's been busy hinting at Lavender."

Harry grew devoid of emotion. Was Ron that much of a daft idiot to let Lavender Brown threaten his relationship with the perfect Hermione? "What hints?"

Her eyes seemed sorrowful when he asked, "We went to buy flowers for his mother just because about three months ago, and when I help up lilies—stargazers—he simply said that he wanted to buy her lavenders. Then, about a month ago, he said he had to tend to an old friend that was ill. Eventually within the passing weeks, we have hardly spoken, and when I get him into the right mood to finally talk about the issues I'm dealing with, he simply walks out of the room, claiming that it's my fault." She sighed, "It's like he only wants me in his possession, and not his heart. I always find time to ask how his days are going and how he is, and he used to talk to me. But lately all he says is 'I'm fine, Hermione. I'm going to be late again, so don't wait up for me.'"

Harry was about to speak, when she snaked her arms around his torso. His eyes closed, lost in her embrace. He was breathless. "Has anyone ever asked if you were okay?"

She just shook her head. He could tell that she wanted him to listen, to be the friend he was to her. "I know he's with you and Ginny on some of the days. Does he want me to be alone?"

"No one wants you to be alone, Hermione. And how do you know I see him?" he asked hesitantly.

"As odd as it is, I smell you in his clothes. The two of you rough-house so much when you are together, you're scent becomes embedded on him. Plus, no one can deny Ginny's perfume…" she trailed.

His heart skipped a beat. She recognized his scent! Then he laughed. Ginny did wear too much perfume, thank God it wasn't a foul odor. It was actually pleasant. It reminded him of Hermione. The scent Ginny always advertised was jasmine. He felt closer to Hermione, regardless of the fact that it was Ginny and not her.

Hermione looked to Ron's passed out form. His head was carelessly splayed on the table and he was snoring. Ginny looked so pretty, it caused Hermione to look away. When she was pissed, she became a blooming idiot, so she never really drank anymore. She glanced back to Harry. He was still looking at her. For some reason, she shivered. Her arms protectively wrapped across her chest and Harry placed his jacket over her. She smiled, nodding her head as a form of thank you. Her gaze went back to Ron. She closed her eyes and lowered her head, "I'm going to leave his flat. It's useless to mope in it all day. It's no longer a home, just an empty and desolate house." She strengthened herself, looking back towards Harry, "May I move to Grimmauld Place to stay with you until I get back on my feet?"

Harry's heart jumped at an ecstatic rate. Dangerous as it was for her to live and be alone with him, whilst dating Ron, she needed him and he would never refuse her. Perhaps he was too weak against her wishes, "All right. If it's what you truly want, I'll lend you a room for a while. Or forever, if you decide it best to stay, of course."

She smiled, hugging him again, "You'll always be a keeper, Harry."

He got her meaning, but decided against going further into the deep conversation, "But I could have sworn I was the Seeker…odd."

He'd caused her laugh, "You would make this about Quidditch."

She was going to stay with him. He'd have access to spend time with her daily, while he watched his best friend struggle with his issues. So it would begin.

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A/N: So, I plan for this story to be edited at a later date, but for this chapter, I will be editing this small chapter very soon, so be sure to read it once you read other chapters! Cheers!