Leaving?

"Just Missed the Train"

Roll over baby...

"Oliver?" Hermione knelt down beside him on the floor of their apartment flat. He didn't wake. It was no surprise. Puddlemere United had just defeated the Cannons the night before. It was quite a thrilling game, and Hermione had been there to cheer on Oliver Wood like old times. But, as she watched him, she couldn't help but think things were just not the same between the two of them. Quidditch had steadily taken over his life, and though he had always taken the time to tell Hermione he loved her, it always came out hurriedly before he rushed out the door to practice with the team. This left no time for her to respond with "I love you." But she didn't have to. Oliver knew it, but as the time flew by, he never had the time to show that he knew, or more to the point, to show that he loved her still.

The time has come,

To make a little more room

And yet, Hermione clung on, she promised herself that she would stay in for the long run. How she hated to break promises--especially promises to herself.

"Oliver," she said, trying again to wake the sleeping twenty-two year old. He shifted in his sleep, but his eyes wouldn't open.

Great, Hermione thought to herself. She had to do this the hard way now.

I've hung around you,
It's getting tough...

With a defeated sigh, she crept down the hallway and into the kitchen, where steaming pancakes were set on the table. She ate them alone, glancing every now and then to the empty seat beside her.

When she was finished, she gathered up her plate, fork, and knife, and placed them into the sink. She even washed the dishes to save Oliver the trouble when she was gone. As she dried her hands on the towel, her eyes fell upon the pancakes that were set before the chair that Oliver would normally have sat at.

She shook her head and walked on.

I think I'm gonna break down soon,

With a sigh she crossed over to the living room and turned on the TV. Hermione figured she might as well wait a few more minutes for Oliver to arise before her departure. She flipped through the channels, yet found nothing to watch.

Hermione looked around with her honey brown eyes boredly. They fell upon video tapes on the shelf above the TV.

She picked up one and placed it in the VCR. She'd might as well humor herself in the meantime.

Retreating back to the sofa, she pressed the "Play" button on the remote.

>>*<<

"C'mere, Hermione!" Oliver said, trying to get a close-up of her on his camcorder.

She merely ran off and laughed. "Turn the camera off, Oliver!" she said to him, looking over her shoulder.

The scenery shook and all that could be heard was his breathing and footsteps as he chased her into a sandbox of a playground.

'Cause I remember
Crying in the park.

She looked at him and playfully dove under a large metal slide.

He laughed and pretended to run off towards the swings, only to come back, tiptoeing towards her hiding spot. He snuck up behind her and said, "Smile, you're on candid camera!!"

Hermione glanced behind her and jumped up, hitting her head on the bottom of the inclined portion of the slide and she looked at him with a slight smirk and pushed him in the chest, sending him stumbling backwards and lying in the sand.

Suddenly all the shots were of a cloudless sky.

It was getting dark.
Suddenly I woke up...
You were my sky...

"Are you all right, Oliver?" Hermione said from a distance, not in the frame just yet--though her hurried footsteps were audible.

Hermione watched all this quietly. Why had everything changed between them? Why couldn't they take walks through the park anymore? She shook her head at the thought. She was sure Oliver did... his schedule just kept getting in the way of things.

So this was it. He had to make a choice now. It was Quidditch or her. He loved both so much, Hermione wasn't even sure what or whom he would even pick. For so long, she always knew it was her, but now it was just a big question mark.

She got up from the couch, the tape still running.

As she left the living room she could hear Oliver saying with laughter in his voice, "So how does it feel, Ms. Granger, being the star of the show?"

She heard herself imitating a stuck-up movie star, "What can I say? The camera loves me!"

Hermione smiled to herself and continued on her way to the bedroom.

Oliver replied, "No... I do."

Upon hearing this, Hermione blinked and stopped dead in her tracks, grasping the threshold with her left hand as she did so. She looked over her shoulder at the glowing TV screen.

That was the first time Oliver told her he loved her.

How quickly she had forgotten.

Hermione bit her lip and went back to their bedroom.

So go on
And sleep darlin'.

One by one, drawer by drawer, Hermione packed all her things, managing to fit them in only three bags of luggage. As she bustled around the room, she'd flick her eyes over to the sleeping young man still under the covers, hugging a pillow. Hermione bit her lip as she realized it used to be her he'd be hugging instead. Times have changed, she thought sadly.

Setting a parchment she had written the night before on the pillow beside Oliver's own, she gave him a quick peck on the cheek and dragging her luggage behind, she left the room, stopping only to look back at her beloved.

With the dull thud of the swinging door shutting, Hermione Granger was gone.

Why don't you pretend we were just a dream?

Oliver awoke suddenly from his slumber. Looking around wildly, he realized instantly the Hermione had been up for a while. His hand went on the mattress to help pull himself up into a sitting position, and a sheaf of parchment crumpled beneath it.

Bewildered, he unfolded it slowly and read it.

Oliver,

Things have changed. I know it, and I know you know it too. It's just... I cannot bear to spend another day, home alone, watching you leave for Quidditch meets, only to wait for your return at sundown. I admit the first few months were awesome--the best of my life. But the novelty of itself has been worn... So now I'm off, off to my mother's for now. I just need some time to think--some space. Pretty remarkable... I've had so much space for so long, and yet, I leave to have some more.

Quidditch this, Quidditch that. I love you, Oliver. And I know you do too. It's just... before Puddlemere changed the practice sessions, we would take great walks in the park, sit under the stars... you know, those things found only in the movies. It was a movie romance, straight out of a wonderful plot line. Everything I could have dreamed of was found in you, and when you were gone... so was everything else.

So why leave? Why leave you behind?

I'm not leaving you behind, though it may seem like it. I just want to give the both of us time to think about things. I'd talk to you in person, but then it'd just be, "Oh! Sorry, gotta go--Quidditch practice today. Coach has a new tactic for us to try. Can we talk about this later?" But then, "later" never came.

Okay, look, the train leaves at 10:15 today. If you, by any chance, would like to, or have time to, you can meet me before then at the station.

If not... Well, just remember that you were great. Maybe I just wasn't great enough.

Hermione

It's clear baby,

"No..." Oliver whispered, withdrawing from the warm covers and taking a good look around the room.

There was no use trying to read between the lines--Hermione had said everything quite clearly. Her drawers were empty--the room was empty.

Still clutching the letter, he dashed towards the kitchen. A plate of pancakes were still steaming on the table... She can't have gone too far.

Heading towards the living room, he peeked out the window to see if she was still within his sight.

Nope, no sign, no trace of her.

He beat his fist furiously on the window, making a clattering noise, when his foot touched the VCR remote, taking the mute off the video.

As he heard the voices, instantly recognizing them, he slumped onto a couch, his eyes focused on the television screen. He was quite intrigued and rather entranced.

After rewinding the tape and watching it twice, Oliver now noticed what Hermione was on about.

A wave of guilt swept over him. It was almost like neglect. He couldn't believe that he had let that happen--he had watched his and Hermione's relationship crumble to the ground, and by his own doing as well.

It doesn't matter anyway...

Oliver sprang up from the couch and before he dashed out the door, he grabbed a pancake. Must not let the food go to waste, he thought to himself as the door swung shut behind him. Finishing off the last of his small breakfast, Oliver broke into a run, sprinting as fast as he could to the train station.

"Dangit! MOVE!" Oliver shouted as he came across a line of cars, stuck at a traffic light. He need to cross that street--after all, he still had two more blocks to go.

He shifted anxiously on his feet, waiting for the light to turn green, and when it did, he was off again, faster than ever, hoping to make up for the time lost at that blasted stop light.

All this time, the letter was clenched in his fist, crumpled, but stuck in his hand like glue ever since he read it.

Oliver never thought he would be dashing down so many streets, risking being run over, all because of one girl. Sure she was just one girl--but one out of a million was more like it.

She never knew just how much she meant to him--he'd been to busy with Quidditch to show it. Well, things were about to change. Maybe not drastically, but over time, it will. And he had to let Hermione know that. She couldn't leave. It was a test. At least, Oliver hoped it was. He'd rather fail that test then not take it at all.

So here Oliver Wood was, famous Quidditch player on Puddlemere, running down the street like a madman.

It was comforting that people would only be able to catch a glimpse of him, as he was at one place, then at another, for he ran as if something large and monstrous were after him.

And that something was--time.

Time could be a horrid thing against you, yet sometimes things end up bittersweet. Time can work in mysterious ways; it can be fair, or unfair, too fast, or too slow. Either way, it'll cause you to win, or to lose. And somehow, as bad as time can be, it will always have worked out for the best, even if the good thing is hard to find in its results.

Time... wasn't on Oliver's side this time.

Well I'm so sorry,

As he jogged up the many steps on the staircase to the tracks, poor Oliver was short of breath, but he pushed himself, pushed himself to get to the platform to see Hermione, to persuade her not to go, and most of all, to tell her he loved her.

But as he set foot on the last step of the staircase, he watched in horror as Hermione's train picked up speed.

Down to the station a little too late...

But Oliver wasn't about to give up without a fight. He ran beside it, looking for Hermione's compartment.

His heart dropped. Up ahead he could see a bushy-haired figure, but he had nowhere else to run--he had run to the end of the platform.

Sadly, he watched the train leave, taking with it the love of his life.

Furiously he unfolded the letter, read it over once more, then biting his lip, he crumpled it into a ball and tossed it onto the tracks.

Such a shame,
Just missed the train...

He clutched his head in his hands for a moment, then taking one last look at the tracks, half wanting the train to come back, and half wanting another train to come take its place on the tracks so the letter could be destroyed at last.

He trudged down the steps, feeling a feeling he had never felt before, or describe.

Emptiness. Grief. Frustration. Loneliness...

Just missed the train.

Across the tracks, Hermione stood in a corner behind a brick pillar at a pay phone.

"Hello, Mom?" she said into the receiver. "Hi. Just calling to say that my train was delayed. I'll be leaving at eleven... I don't know what time it'll be arriving. I'll call you when I get to King's Cross, okay? All right... bye, see you soon."

Hermione hung up the phone and sighed. She checked her watch--10:32 a.m. He didn't show, Hermione thought to herself with a sigh. Can't say I'm surprised.

She fiddled with the handle of her luggage miserably. She got up and stretched, eager to leave once and for all. She decided to walk--who would steal her stuff? No one else was there except for some conductors and guides.

She walked along, staring down at her feet.

Why didn't he come? Did he seriously prefer Quidditch over me?

Hermione blinked and held back tears until... until something pale yellow caught her eye. It looked like parchment. A regular sheaf of parchment. But it hadn't been there when she had first arrived at the station. And she had seen no one around lately. So... where'd it come from?

To satisfy her curiosity, she took out her wand, and with a quick glance around, whispered, "Accio, Parchment!"

She grabbed it in mid-air and unfolded it slowly.

The first few lines told her all she needed to know.

Her jaw hung open and she ran down the staircase, completely forgetting about her bags by the pay phone.

Oh, why let strangers pass us by?

Oliver walked down the sidewalk, hands in his pockets. Again, he had to be held back by a line of cars at the same traffic light--only the line seemed to have doubled.

And he, just like Hermione, wanted nothing more than to go home... and stay home.

It was Hermione Granger's turn to be in pursuit of her significant other, and this time, she proved to be successful.

"Oliver!" she said breathlessly, grabbing his shoulder and turning him around to face her.

Didn't anyone see we were stuck at the light?

Or we would've made it on time...

Oliver blinked blankly at the sight of the seventeen-year-old before him.

"H-Hermione?" he stammered. "What're you--I thought you--the train left already!"

Her face contorted with puzzlement. "What? My train doesn't get here until eleven!"

"But you said--"

"I know what I said," Hermione said, cutting him off. "And I guess I'll have to eat my words this time. Look, what you did... It showed me just how much you cared. And that's good enough for me." She checked her watch. "I'm guessing practice has already started?"

He nodded. "Yeah, but, I'm sure Coach won't mind if I missed today's practice session. After all, I've had a perfect attendance so far... And I apologize for that."

Hermione laughed. "C'mon, let's go home."

Oliver grinned. "And you mean by my place, right?"

She smiled, "Of course."

They crossed the street when the road was clear, hand-in-hand.

It was only until they were halfway back to their apartment flat that Hermione said suddenly, "Oliver! My luggage and bags!"

Oliver blinked and said with a smirk. "Why didn't you take them with you?"

"Well, I wouldn't have been able to catch up to you if I had to drag those with me, now would I?"

Oliver grinned. "I guess not..."

And they headed back to the station, where that same light was red again.

"You know," he said after a moment. "That light is starting to grow on me."

And to the station they went.

"Dang, Hermione, what do you have in here?" Oliver said as he lugged the largest of the bags down the stairs.

"Oh, nothing."

"Nothing? It seems like you have everything in here!"

Hermione smiled at him from the landing. "See, that's where you're wrong. My everything is standing in front of me."