I Will Remember You

Wiping Away the Dirt

"Clothes for women?" repeated Tom, his eyes wide.

Harry nodded again.

"Let me check the wardrobes in a couple of the rooms. Maybe I can find something that someone forgot here when the Battle started. Wait here, Mr. Potter. It will only take a minute," said Tom, disappearing up the stairs.

'When they all ran away,' Harry thought after Tom left. 'When the brave came and fought against Voldemort and the Death Eaters while the rest ran away and hid, fearing for their lives.'

"It's incredible," Tom said, snapping Harry out of his thoughts.

"What?" Harry asked.

"It's incredible how many clothes I've found," Tom replied, nodding at the pile of clothes in his arms. He put them on the table and began to sort through them.

"Let me see, something that will work for a woman, right?" he asked as he dug through the pile of clothes. "What about this?"

Harry examined a knee-length dress, it was light blue and had thin straps on the top. It was really pretty, indeed, and it looked like it was almost new.

"Whoever left this must have spent a lot of time in the Muggle world, but everything else I have is for men," said Tom.

Harry nodded. "I think that this one will definitely work."

Tom smiled, "Very well, and what about this? And these?" he asked, passing Harry a pair of jeans, a shirt, a green jumper, and several other items of Muggle and wizard's clothes.

"Hmm, I think that's enough," Harry said from behind the stack of clothes in his arms. "Now, I reckon she'll need something like a - " he coughed, turning a little pink, "- a bra, and a - a pair of knickers."

Tom came up with a white bra and a pair of light green knickers, and put them on the top of Harry's pile.

"You know, Mr. Potter," said Tom, smiling toothlessly. "You should take some of these clothes for yourself, too. You always wear the same things, and they're all worn out."

Harry thought about it and realized that Tom was right. He picked up another pair of jeans, larger than the other pair, and a white shirt. Finally, he picked out three pairs of shoes: a pair of white tennis shoes for himself and a pair of very nice sandals for Hermione, as well as some trainers that looked like they'd fit her. After thanking Tom, he turned to head back to his room.

"Ah, Mr. Potter," Tom called after him when he was halfway up the stairs. Harry turned to look at him. "May I ask you who all these clothes are for?"

Harry smiled. "A friend," he answered simply, and continued up the stairs.

'She must be done with her bath,' he thought nervously, as he stood in front of the door to his room. He decided to knock. Hermione didn't answer.

"Hermione? Can I come in? I've found some clothes for you," Harry called, opening the door slowly without looking inside, in case she was still undressed.

"Yes, you can come in," came Hermione's voice from inside.

"What are you wearing?" he asked her cautiously, still avoiding looking into the room.

"I found a cloth near the bath. I thought it would be all right if I wore it," she said uncertainly.

Harry decided it was safe to enter. Hermione was sitting on his bed, with a towel wrapped around her body. Luckily it covered her from her breasts to her knees. Her long, bushy and now wet hair was dripping on Harry's bed.

"May I wear it?" asked Hermione, touching the towel with her hands.

Harry smiled. "Hermione, that's not clothing, it's just a towel."

"A towel?" she asked, bemused.

"Yes, people use it for drying themselves," he explained. "I brought you some real clothes, just put on whatever you prefer," he added, placing the clothes near her on the bed.

"Thank you," said Hermione in the same empty voice she'd used since he found her.

Harry smiled. "You're welcome. Are you hungry?" Hermione nodded. "What do you want to eat?" he asked. She shrugged her shoulders.

"I'll go and ask Tom if he can prepare something for you - oh it's almost 1 p.m.," he added after checking his watch. "I'll go and ask him for lunch, then. Go ahead and get dressed in the mean time." Hermione smiled, but it was a cold and distant smile. Harry forced himself to smile back as he left the room again.

***

When she found herself alone, Hermione looked at the clothes. She didn't know how to wear them, but she decided to try all the possible ways that she could put them on.

She let the towel fall and picked up the bra. It was too small for her shoulders and too uncomfortable for the bottom of her neck. She decided to try placing it on her breasts and closed it at the back. It fit her perfectly.

Then she put on the green knickers. They were a little bit big, but they weren't too bad.

Now she had a much more difficult choice to make: what to wear over the underthings. There were too many choices, and she wasn't used to having a choice. But as she looked through the pile of clothes, something caught her eye: a plain, light blue dress. She thought it looked very nice, and it seemed quite easy to wear. She picked it up and tried it. It seemed a little bit big for her, like the knickers, but it would do.

Hermione looked at herself in the mirror. Her mouth fell open. She was used to seeing herself in the old, dirty cloak Harry had found her in. A tear slid down her cheek. She felt its warmth at the corner of her mouth, and touched a fingertip to it, bemused. She couldn't remember if she had ever cried before. He didn't let her cry. His voice in her head didn't let her cry.

'I must not cry,' she thought, but the words didn't have any effect on her tears. "I must not cry," she repeated out loud. "Tonight it will all be finished. He will come to the same end as the others. He will be just one of the many others who came before him."

But this time she didn't want to do it. She felt the desire to rebel much more strongly than she had with the others. This time she really wanted to shut the voice in her head up. She didn't know why, but she just knew that she couldn't survive if she killed that Harry Potter boy. Maybe it was because he was gentle with her. The first time that she could remember someone being gentle with her. The first time that someone seemed to really care for her. The first time that the person she was sold to hadn't just wanted to have fun with her body.

Or maybe it was because he said that he knew her. That he said he knew about her past, and all the things she couldn't remember. She would have screamed for joy, if only that voice in her head would go away. She was desperate to know something about herself, but she knew that she was too weak to fight the voice that was driving her crazy.

Hermione was jerked out of her thoughts by a knock at the door. "Hermione, are you ready? 'Cause lunch is ready," Harry called from the other side of the door.

Hermione pushed away her troubled thoughts and wiped away the tear. Spotting the sandals, she slipped them on. She felt a shiver run down her back as she moved. Her wet hair was soaking through her dress.

"Yes, I'm ready," she said as she fastened the sandals.

Harry entered. He had changed his clothes as well, putting on the jeans and shirt that he had got from Tom. When he looked at Hermione his mouth fell open. She had changed drastically while he was gone. She looked almost like the Hermione Harry used to know, except that she was thinner than Harry remembered her ever being and her skin was covered with bruises and injuries.

'She looks wonderful,' Harry thought. 'Or maybe it's just how different she looks from before. Even a house elf would look wonderful compared to the way she looked before. No, wait. It would have been pretty, but Hermione looks wonderful.' He couldn't stop staring at her, and he thought, 'Since when do I think that Hermione looks wonderful? She's always been wonderful, but why can't I stop staring at her? Maybe it's just because I'm happy to see that she's alive.'

Hermione came over to him and waved a hand in front of his face, "Are you ok, Harry Potter?" she asked, smiling.

Harry recovered from the pleasant shock. "Y-yes, I am. But why are you calling me Harry Potter?"

She was surprised. "Because it's your name, isn't it?"

"Actually it is, but you can call me Harry, just Harry - ok?" he asked.

Hermione nodded. Her hair had dripped over her entire back, and now she was shivering from the cold.

Harry saw her shiver and asked concernedly, "Are you ok? You're shaking."

"My back is all wet," she answered. "I'm just cold."

"Hmm, let me see what I can do," he said. Pulling his wand from his pocket, he stepped closer to her and muttered the same charm that she used to use when they came back from their trips to Hogsmeade in the winter. Her hair and her back dried quickly.

"Hmm," said Hermione, as the pleasant warm air that came from Harry's wand washed over her.

"Is it better?" asked Harry, running his hands over her hair and back to test whether they were still soaked.

Hermione nodded. Her bushy hair rubbed gently against Harry's cheek. He stopped moving his hands over her back and inhaled deeply.

"You smell good," he said.

"It's your soap that I used," she answered.

Harry realized he was very close to her, hugging her tightly. He had missed her so much, the way he was still missing Ron, Ginny, Neville, Luna.

Hermione didn't hug him back, though; she just stared past his shoulder at the wall. She had never felt something like this. None the other men she had been close to had ever hugged her this way.

The hug was full of misery. Full of friendship. Full of love. She could feel all that and it hurt her badly. She wanted to hug him back. She wanted to push him away. But she couldn't do anything. The voice in her head kept her from doing any of the things she wanted to. So she just waited, hoping that the agony would be over soon.

Harry, on the other hand, never wanted to let her go. He had just found her and he felt like she had been missing for years, not just five months. He felt strange. He was sad in his happiness. Or maybe he was happy in his sadness. He couldn't really tell. But it was all perfect. Miserably perfect.

Hermione's stomach rumbled with hunger and Harry reluctantly let her go. He looked into her eyes for a moment and then blushed.

"Well, I reckon you're starving, aren't you?" he asked, and Hermione nodded. "Let's go downstairs, Tom's made eggs and a couple of steaks. I remember you liked that," he continued, opening the door.

"Hmm, did I? Ok, let's go, then," answered Hermione emotionlessly. She turned and walked toward the door, and Harry followed her out of the room. She could still feel the love that she'd felt from him when he hugged her. He gave off lots of love, but somehow also a lot of misery.

They went downstairs and sat down at a table set for two. On the table were a couple of bottles of Butterbeer, two plates of eggs and two steaks. In the middle of the table were some grapes on a little plate.

Harry watched Hermione eat ravenously, devouring everything in sight. "How long has it been since you've had a proper meal?" he asked, eyes wide.

"I don't know," she answered with her mouth full of eggs. "I don't think I ever have."

"That man is an awful bastard, that what he is," he said.

Hermione didn't answer. She knew she would end up back with the merchant again, and she wasn't stupid enough to insult him. Even if he wasn't listening to her right now, once she was in his power he would make her confess, and then he would punish her. But she agreed silently, in the safety of her mind.

Tom heard Harry's comment as he brought them more eggs. "Why?" he asked Harry in a whisper.

"Because he sells contraband, for one thing," Harry replied.

"Contraband? Like what?" the old man asked fearfully.

"He sold her to me," Harry answered, pointing at Hermione. "And he has a unicorn that he uses like a horse."

"Oh my God," said Tom, bringing one hand to his mouth in shock. "Luckily he'll only be here until tomorrow morning," he added, starting to take away their empty plates.

"But I was his only customer," said Harry, wondering why the man would leave so soon when he still had items to sell.

"What can I say? I won't stop him," Tom said, before heading back to the kitchen.

"Do you want to do something?" Harry asked Hermione.

"Do something?" Hermione replied. "Like what?"

"I don't know." Harry knew perfectly well that there was nothing to do in the Leaky Cauldron.

Hermione looked at him cautiously. "I'm very tired," she said, eating a grape. "I've walked for five days."

"Walked?" asked Harry shocked, "I thought you were on the cart."

Hermione shook her head. "He and the trunks ride on the cart."

Harry felt his anger boiling up for the tenth time that day. He reminded himself that it was no use getting angry again, especially when Hermione seemed so apathetic about it. "Do you want to sleep?" he asked her.

"I don't know," she answered uncertainly. "Do you want me to sleep?"

"It's not important what I want, Hermione, it's what you want," said Harry .

"I would like to sleep," she answered bemusedly.

Harry nodded. "Let's go back upstairs, then," he said, smiling.

When they got back to room eleven, Harry locked the door behind them and turned to look at Hermione.

"Lie down and take all the rest you need," he said, pulling the curtains, and then sitting down on a chair next to the bed.

Hermione was shocked when he simply left her alone to sleep. He didn't seem to want to have sex. It was the first time that someone had brought her to a bed without wanting sex. That was the only reason people ever bought her. She did whatever they wanted because she didn't have a choice; that voice controlled her mind and kept her from resisting. But she hated lying in bed afterwards with the fat and sweaty men who had made her do such perverted things. She would have preferred to kill herself - but she couldn't do even that.

"Y-you don't want to have sex?" she asked, puzzled.

Harry almost fell off of the chair. Turning to face her, he tried to say 'no', but no sound came out of his mouth. He shook his head instead, staring at her.

Neither spoke for a while. They stared at each other without meeting each other's eyes. Then Harry managed to find his voice. "No," he said in a high-pitched voice.

"Why? That was the only thing the other men bought me for," she said.

Harry smiled weakly. "I bought you because I'm your friend. Forget about all that and just sleep, okay?"

"And you? Where will you be?" she asked, concerned. She didn't want to be alone.

"I'll sit right here," he said, patting the chair he was sitting on.

Hermione smiled and laid down on the bed. 'Good night,' he thought, but he didn't say anything for fear that his voice would break. In the darkness he couldn't see Hermione's tears, and she didn't see his.