Come Back to Me

It was four hours later, and the festivities were finally winding down. Harry was standing by the door, saying good-bye to everyone as they left. Hermione was helping the Weasleys clean up by wiping the tables. She wasn't sure how much of a help she actually was, because she realized just now that she'd been scrubbing the same spot for the past ten minutes, while staring right at Harry, and she hadn't even known it. Her face didn't blush this time; she didn't scold herself for being so obvious; she just shook her head and returned to work. Even if Harry had seen her looking at him, what difference would it have made? As previously noted, he is one of the most oblivious guys on the planet.

After their walk, Harry and Hermione went back to the party, Harry cut the cake, the Weasleys cracked some jokes, and they had a grand old time. Well, that's the way it would have been if Hermione had had the opportunity to finish one of the most important sentences she will ever speak, but no. Ron had to come along with his impeccable timing and announce that there was a cake to be cut (leave it to Ron to ruin something so important for the sake of food). So in the midst of all this cake-cutting and joke-cracking and grand-old-time-having, Hermione was mentally kicking herself as hard as humanly possible (and Ron too, for that matter). All Hermione could think was that she should have done it sooner. She waited too long, and now it was too late. She figured she might as well just forget about it and make the best of the rest of the night.

The last of the guests were finally leaving, and Hermione had successfully cleaned off both tables. Ginny took the rag from her, and Hermione wiped her damp hands on her pants.

"All finished?" she heard Harry ask. She turned around to see him standing right behind her with a somewhat nervous look on his face.

"It looks like it," Hermione answered, looking around at the now spotless room. "Is everyone gone?"

"Everyone except you and the Weasleys," he replied. Hermione looked and him, and he looked right back at her, still with a slight trace of nervousness that Hermione couldn't figure out the cause of. Neither of them knew what to say, so they just stood there staring at each other. "You still have one more chance to redeem yourself," that voice in her head chimed in. All right, just do it, she said to herself, don't screw it up again.

"Harry, I-"

"Hermione-" So not only was Ron going to cut her off, but Harry was going to do it too? This was so unfair.

"Go ahead," Harry said with a smile after they both stopped speaking.

"No, you go," Hermione replied. She wanted to hear what he had to say, and then determine whether or not she should tell him how she felt.

Harry blushed slightly and said, "It's not that important, really. I just..." He looked down at his hands as he wrung them. Why was he so nervous? Hermione wondered. Could it mean...? Was he about to...?

"Go on," Hermione urged him with a reassuring smile, trying to keep her anxiety from showing. Was he going to say that he loved her?

Harry looked up at her again sheepishly with those wonderful green eyes and said, "I just don't know how I'm going to be able to say good-bye to you."

Good-bye? That definitely wasn't what Hermione was going for. She tried to mask her disappointment, but it was difficult. Not only did he not say that he loved her, but now he was going to torture her by making her say good-bye to him?

"Then let's make it easy," Hermione said, attempting to be cheerful. She gave him a quick hug and said, "Bye, Harry. Good luck. I know you can do it."

When she pulled away, Harry smiled and said, "Well, that certainly was easy." Hermione just smiled back, because she knew if she opened her mouth, she would start sobbing again. Why was she such a blubbering mess all of the sudden? "Because your best friend might die, and you haven't told him that you love him," that annoying voice in her head so helpfully informed her. Was there a way to turn that bloody thing off?

Harry and Hermione grew silent again and just looked at each other. What else was there to say? It looked like there was more that Harry wanted to say, and there was obviously a lot more that Hermione wanted to say, but it seemed that they'd made a silent agreement to keep it to themselves so they wouldn't cause each other any more pain. And it may seem surprising, but Hermione was okay with that.

Just then, Mr. Weasley came over, followed by the rest of the Weasley clan, and he put his arm around Harry. "Well, Harry, what do you say? Are you ready to go? You're going to need a good night's sleep tonight."

Harry nodded, and everyone walked out the door and onto the darkened street. The whole group apparated to the porch of Harry's house off of Diagon Alley to say their final good-byes. Hermione could hardly stand watching or listening as each of the Weasleys said good-bye to Harry. Mrs. Weasley was sobbing, and Ginny almost was too. Fred and George didn't joke or make any comments. Hermione even saw Fred wiping away a tear, even though he tried to make it look like he was just rubbing his eye. Ron shook Harry's hand, but then they both thought better of it and hugged each other for the longest time; Ron pulled away sniffling. Charlie and Bill each shook Harry's hand, wishing him luck. Mr. Weasley shook Harry's hand and gave him a very fatherly hug. The whole time, Harry remained almost emotionless.

It was finally Hermione's turn. She walked over to Harry, and smiled a pained smile, unable to hold back her tears anymore. They hugged each other tightly. Without even hesitating Hermione whispered shakily, "You have to come back to me, Harry. Promise me you will."

"I will, Mione. I promise," Harry whispered back. They pulled apart and looked at each other one last time. Harry smiled reassuringly at her, and Hermione tried to smile back. Hermione just couldn't believe Harry wasn't more emotional. Maybe he'd really meant it when he said he wasn't nervous. Maybe he knew this was all a little ridiculous, because he knew he was going to be just fine. Or maybe he just didn't want anyone to see him upset. Either way, there was nothing Hermione could do about it, so she just accepted his unaffected state. They all said good-bye one last time, and Harry went inside and closed the door.

Hermione couldn't take it anymore. She needed to get away, so she said good-bye to the Weasleys as they were all comforting each other and quickly left. She apparated to her house and started tidying up. She was well aware of the fact that it was nearly one in the morning, and she was cleaning. She wasn't looking for logic, she just knew that she couldn't dwell on the fact that that very well may have been the last time she'd ever see Harry. She was sick of crying and didn't want to do it anymore. After she finished cleaning she decided to take as shower and get ready for bed. She knew she probably wouldn't be able to sleep tonight, but she thought that maybe if she went through the motions, she would get tired and forget everything that had happened tonight. Yeah, right.

After she showered, she pulled on the first t-shirt she found and a pair of shorts. When she looked in the mirror to tie her hair back, she saw which shirt she'd grabbed. It was one of the shirts that Harry constantly left at her house. Why was she doing this to herself? Out of all of the shirts she owned, why did she have to pick this one? But she couldn't bear to change it. Before thinking about it anymore, she climbed into her bed and pulled up the covers.

"This is ridiculous," she said after lying awake for about twenty minutes. She knew she was never going to get to sleep. She ripped off the covers and walked down to the living room. She paced for a little while, looking for something to take her mind off of everything. Eventually, she decided to read (big surprise there). But what should she read? Obviously something that wouldn't make her think of Harry.

After going through all of her books and seeing that each and every one of them reminded her of Harry somehow, she decided on a magazine. She walked over to pick up the latest copy of Witch Weekly, which was laying facedown on the coffee table. She grabbed it and sank into the comfy armchair. To her dismay, when she turned the magazine over, Harry's face was on the cover. She threw it and let out a frustrated yell. Was the entire world suddenly against her? She gave up trying to keep her mind off Harry and decided to just lie in her bed. She had to fall asleep eventually, right? So she got up, switched off the light, and turned to go to bed.