Three Seasons to Closure

Chapter 1. The Street War Street Party

An enthusiastic crowd buzzed about Main Street in a quaint Muggle shopping district just outside of London. Street vendors were busily distributing their wares to happy customers. Fattening, greasy food and colorful souvenir items sold by the hundreds as Englanders and foreign tourists quelled in the excitement of a busy summer holiday season. On this particular sunny day in June, as had been the case for the past seven years now, the crowds were double their normal size and bursting with energy. It was a day on which spontaneous celebrating sprouted out of popular shopping districts and town centers all across Muggle Europe - it was the anniversary of the end of the "Street Wars".

Muggles had never discovered what had caused the youth in their cities to become so riotous and violent during the dark days and nights of the Street Wars. They never suspected that an underground society was at war, causing this cycle of assassinations, mass killings, and general chaos. It had been a time of great suffering, and great loss, and it had all seemed to end abruptly eight years ago, like an out of control freight train suddenly hitting a brick wall, its raucous journey ceded with a violent jerk.

Slowly, at first, an awakening began to take over as no new identifiable incidences were found to occur. The anxiousness that had poisoned their existence began to fade and a general consensus took hold - "The Street Wars must have ended, something good must have happened somewhere..." It unfolded a little bit each day - one day at a time, and for one person at a time - but the Muggle population of Europe finally gained back their sense of peaceful platitude and began to breathe easy, full breaths once again.

After a few years, children were again to be found playing in back yards. Ventures such as buying ice cream from the stranger who drove the ice cream truck weren't viewed as incalculably dangerous anymore. Businesses were repaired and revived, and a nostalgic, almost giddy air took over the populace. People mourned their dead, embraced their loved ones, and paid homage to the brave and dedicated men and women of the police, fire, and military units who had heroically risked so much to help them come out of the Street Wars alive.

The first season of celebrations had happened without plan or forethought. Young Muggles, mostly tired of waiting for some official pronouncement that the wars were ended, took to the streets on the one-year anniversary of the last recorded incident that was thought to be related to the violent youth uprisings. It had been a gruesome and deadly bombing of a packed shopping mall, and a great many Londoners were killed on that day.

One year to the day of the horrifying incident, when a group of fifty or so Londoners showed up at the wrecked site where the gleaming mall had once stood, they gave speeches and made toasts, lit candles and shed tears. What began as a somber gathering gradually shifted to a celebration of life. News coverage of the event ignited a mood of partying that took off like wild fire throughout England, and eventually all of Europe as well. And so it was that the "Street War Street Parties" had begun as the Muggle world tried to gain some closure for a war they neither began nor ended, but took part in just the same. The Street Parties always began on June 10^th, and extended for several days, ending in solemn Sunday services and memorials of various kinds.

As the Street Party on Main Street went on, a charming young couple wove this way and that through the crowds. Each had an ice cream cone in hand, and they were dressed rather warmly considering that it was a temperate and bright summer day.

"A picture for the lady? Please sir, wouldn't you like a portrait of your beautiful wife?" A gruff-voiced vendor hovered over the couple, shouting to the dark-haired man, and amplifying his voice with a microphone. "You can't let a beauty like that go undocumented, can you? Why don't you make her happy and let me paint a dazzling portrait of your little woman," the man continued.

Harry Potter laughed at this, wrapping his arm around his companion. "Umm, no thank you. She...she's not my 'little woman', as you say, but thanks for the offer." They hurried away as the portrait artist continued his sales pitch, finally giving up and moving on to another couple.

"Honestly, you'd think a man and a woman could be together without being thought of as being together!" huffed the pretty young woman. "That was the third reference today to us as a married couple and I'm not wearing a ring of any kind!"

"Hermione, you're just chuffed about the 'little woman' comment, admit it," Harry said.

When he didn't receive a reply, Harry continued, smiling at his friend. "Better to be referred to as 'little' than something else, right? Anyway, I'm done with my ice cream and now I'd like to see what other unhealthy concoctions those amazing Muggles have to offer us. Everything looks so tempting..." Harry licked his lips and rubbed his hands together, scanning the street, looking for a promising vendor cart.

"I haven't had so much food in ages! I couldn't eat another bite, really!" Hermione said, patting her stomach. Closing her eyes momentarily and taking in a large breath to savor the beautiful June day, she smiled and fell into step with her friend as they headed further up the street. She was feeling warm and happy as she watched Harry studying his choices. It felt so marvelous, Hermione thought, to be outside once again, smiling and sharing jokes with her favorite companion, Harry. Spring had been wet and cold this year, and the weather had seemed to mock her. She was in the throws of a romantic breakup, as was Harry, and for once it seemed like the two bad situations were working together to create something very good - the rebinding of an old friendship. Now it was June, it was once again sunny and warm, and the festive air around her was serving to drive away all memories of the last few dreary months.

It had been Harry's idea to come here today to see how the Muggles celebrated the end of the Voldemort era. As Hermione soaked in the atmosphere of the Street Party and deliberated on the general mood of its partakers, she was quite pleased to find that the Muggles did indeed seem to be celebrating something. What they were exactly celebrating was somewhat vague to her, however. To wizards and witches, the tenth of June was marked as the day Harry Potter finally brought down Lord Voldemort in a violent and costly struggle. Muggles, she supposed, were probably simply rejoicing a recognition of sorts that they seemed to have found at last happier, more peaceful times. It didn't quite seem to have the same potency.

A huge paper sign was strung overhead across Main Street that read, "STREET WARS STREET PARTY". Hermione shook her head as she read it. It was a bit strange to have the deadly deeds of the most evil wizard of recent times referred to as if Voldemort had merely been some kind of street thug, and those deeds were no more than instances of his gang letting off a little steam. She shivered as dark and only shallowly buried memories were stirred, and cast around for something more pleasant to give her attentions to.

Harry, as it turned out, had found just the diversion, grabbing her hand and leading her briskly toward a red and green trolley that had a large plastic apple protruding from the roof. "Come on," he said, eyes wide with anticipation, "we'll have to try the caramel apples. Have you ever heard of such a thing?"

Hermione sighed, a sad smile gracing her features. "Harry, you were raised by Muggles. Hadn't those people let you experience anything?"

Harry just shrugged, and turned to the boy in the trolley to place his order.

"I'll have a go at these," Harry said to the surly-looking teen-ager who was leaning out of a service window in the ornately colored cart.

"Nuts?" asked the boy.

"Huh?" Harry replied.

"Nuts - Do you want nuts on it?" The apple vendor exhaled loudly, tapping his fingers on the counter as if he had an important appointment and they were keeping him from it. Hermione laughed as Harry struggled with yet another difficult decision.

"Mmmm...Well, how do you like them?" Harry asked the boy.

"Nuts," the boy replied.

"Okay then," Harry said cheerfully. "Nuts it is."

"One or two?" asked the boy, squinting his eyes at Hermione.

"Nuts?" Harry asked, his brow crinkled in confusion.

"No!" The teenager ran his hands through his hair, and took in a breath of air, as if summoning some patience, slowly articulating. "One or two caramel apples?" He dragged his eyes from Harry to Hermione and leered at Harry once again.

"Oh. Hermione? You'll take one as well, yes?" Harry raised his eyebrows and gave a tempting little half-smile.

Hermione laughed at her friend's playfulness. "Well...okay. Calories don't count if it's a celebration, right?" She addressed this question to the grouchy apple vendor, who made no indication that he had been paying any attention, so she continued. "I'll have one with two nuts please!"

"Um..." the teen began as he visibly braced himself for another round with this obviously clueless pair.

"Just kidding!" Hermione said, laughing and then dropping her smile as the boy thrust two caramel apples through the service window and handed Harry some change. The two friends turned up the street and smiled at each other as they struggled to eat the sticky and awkward treats.

"Too bad no one else thinks we're funny," Harry said, turning his apple upside down in an attempt to keep the caramel from touching his nose again.

"We're not?" Hermione asked.

"No, Hermione. The only person who thinks I'm funny is you, and anyone who says you're funny is lying," Harry said matter-of-factly, glancing sideways as he did so.

"You don't think I'm funny?" Hermione pouted, taking another bite of her apple and spinning it around to find another good spot to bite.

Harry looked over at his companion, and sighed. "No one thinks you're funny."

"Benjamin thought I was funny. He said so. Said I was smart and funny and that's what he liked about me," Hermione said, and laughed as she looked at Harry, who now had caramel stuck to his nose and upper lip.

"Don't laugh!" Harry touted. "This is impossible food! I've never worked so hard in my life - but it's also one of the best things I've ever tasted - tart and sweet all at once." Harry wiped his nose and licked his lips, smiling again at his friend. "And Benjamin was just trying to get you to go out with him."

"Well," said Hermione, "it worked."

Struggling with their sticky treats, Harry and Hermione continued their stroll about the Street Fair. They talked lightly about each other's weeks and shared a few stories, catching each other up on important events and happenings.

"There, all done!" Hermione said proudly after a bit. She tossed her stick toward a rubbish bin that they were passing, missing by nearly a foot. "You think I'm funny," she said, nonchalantly.

"Do not. I just have fun when I'm with you. There is a difference." Harry elbowed his friend playfully. "And you missed by a mile!" he teased. "How can you miss a rubbish bin that's only a foot and a half away?"

Harry shook his head and expertly aimed his own apple stick at the bin, hitting it dead center.

"We're moving, that's why," Hermione replied. "I can't hit a moving target."

Harry stopped in his tracks, cocking his head at his friend. "The bin wasn't moving, you were!" he said in slight exasperation.

"Ah, well then...Okay, add that to the List of Things I Stink at. 'Rubbish tossing'." Hermione bent down and picked up her fallen apple stick, carrying it over to the aluminum bin and dropping it in with force. "Hermione Granger can't shoot rubbish at a moving target!" she exclaimed loudly, catching the eye of passers by and a groan from Harry.

"You need more things on that list anyway. It's far too short for ordinary humans," Harry said and smiled. "I think it's great to be humbled now and then. Good for the soul." Hooking his arm through Hermione's elbow, Harry led her back into the street. The late afternoon sky was beginning to turn dusky and Hermione gave a shiver as she noticed that it was beginning to get a bit cooler. She tugged Harry's arm and motioned with her eyes that they ought to consider heading home.

"I stink at relationships," she said simply as they walked up the street. "That's number one on the List."

Harry smiled warmly and gave her arm a squeeze - a gesture that led Hermione to marvel melancholically at how truly blessed she was to have Harry for a friend. They had known each other for fifteen years now, and most of those years were cast under the dark and cold shadow of a terrible war. They could easily have drifted away from each other, letting their childhood relationship dissolve slowly like most early friendships do - especially those between a boy and a girl, or a man and a woman as they've now become. They could have deemed it inappropriate to keep in touch as each became involved in other, not platonic relationships. But they hadn't. It was never suggested, and as far as Hermione was concerned, it had never been an option.

Though they had gone great stretches of time without seeing each other due to various situations with the war, academic study, and work, the two friends always found ways to stay close. Now that they found themselves both in London and both unattached, they were spending as much time together as they had in grade school. It felt like coming home to Hermione to once again be Harry's closest companion. His friendship was one of her greatest treasures.

The other great part of having Harry back living close to her was that Hermione didn't find it difficult at all to be rid of her most recent long-standing romantic entanglement. "Why did I ever waste my time and energy on relationships?" she mused to herself. "It's not as if I miss it. I have my job and Harry, there's plenty to get on with in this life. Who needs to get married?" Hermione had even made up a song about her "epiphany" as she called it - her decision to give up on pursuing romantic relationships for good. As she strolled along in her long-time friend's arm, lost in her own thoughts, Hermione unconsciously began to sing quietly.

"It's the celibate life for me, for me...the celibate life for me."

Harry turned toward Hermione with a scornful look. "You're not on about that again, are you?" he asked. Harry gently nudged Hermione as he said this, coaxing her across the street as they headed back to Hermione's flat.

"Oh, yes. An epiphany only happens once you are truly, deeply sure about something, so I take them very seriously," Hermione replied. To enhance her point, Hermione set her jaw sternly, her eyes piercing Harry's mocking ones. "It's not as if it's any great loss to wizard kind anyway, I'm too uptight and high maintenance, I'm told. The way I see it, my celibacy is a win-win proposition."

Harry grimaced. "You and you're ministry talk. Ugh, who makes up those awful sayings? Win-win..."

Harry's voice trailed off as he approached the entrance to a large brick building with an enormous and intricately carved wood door flocking the entrance. The pair retreated to Hermione's small, but neatly-kept flat, and settled onto her sofa to watch television as they wound down for the evening. In the past two months, Harry had made a habit out of spending an afternoon and an evening a week with Hermione, always staying for a bit during the night to watch a show or two in her company. They certainly hadn't been privy to a television during their Hogwarts years, but this new tradition reminded Hermione quite strongly of the countless evenings she had spent revising by the fire, amidst her closest friends in Gryffindor tower, just prior tucking in to bed each night.

"That was fun, today," Harry said after the nightly news program began playing its ending theme music.

Hermione patted Harry's knee and looked up at him. "Yes, it was," she replied softly.

"Are you being sentimental again?" Harry asked. He brought his hand on top of hers and rubbed lightly on her index finger. "You're acting all sad now."

"I'm not sad," Hermione said. "I promise. No sadness here."

"Well, then," Harry said, standing up and pulling his wand from his trouser pocket. "I should get going." He tilted his head and donned a thoughtful expression. "You're ok, right? You're sure?"

"Yes, Harry," Hermione said, chuckling. "Off you go now. I'll see you next week then?"

"Next week," Harry said and he pointed his wand at his chest, Apparating to his own flat.

After Harry's form dissolved from sight, Hermione dropped into her sofa and wrapped her arms around herself in a self-congratulatory hug. She had enjoyed herself more today than she had done in ages. The epiphany was pure genius as far as she could tell. Sitting there on her beloved, fluffy beige sofa, happy and content, it was hard to argue that splitting up with Benjamin wasn't a good idea. And as for ridding herself of wizard relations of the romantic sort altogether? Well, who could deny that this would simplify things considerably?

"Accio wand."

Catching her wand as it sped through the living room and flew into her hand, Hermione gave it a quick snap to cast the television off, and headed into her bathroom to get ready for bed. As she went about brushing her teeth, washing her face, and changing into her standard tank top and boxer shorts, Hermione's mind busied itself with its usual idle-time occupation: Lists. "'Relationships' is still first, with 'Rubbish tossing' now second on the List of Things I Stink at..." her subconscious rattled. "No...'Rubbish tossing' definitely shouldn't be as high as number two..." Hermione absently fussed with her lists until she was finally tucked snuggly under her plush comforter. Hugging one pillow into her chest while her head sank into another, the tired witch finally gave in to the relentless drowsiness that had been hovering like a dense fog inside her head since Harry left.