Memories Of Days Gone By

Memories of Days Gone By

Harry sat at the kitchen table, his fists clenched. How could he have not known? It was under his nose, and he had not guessed, had not suspected, hadn't even dreamed!

Ron and Hermione were getting married.

They had sat him down when all three had gotten home from work, Harry from his Quidditch practice, Hermione from St. Mungo's, and Ron from the Ministry. Both of his best friends had looked at each other, smiling, a happiness dancing in their eyes, and had told him.

"We're getting married."

Harry, who felt like sobbing, put on a smile and congratulated the couple as best he could. Then he slowly got up from his seat on the couch and had walked to his room. Ron and Hermione were unaware of his disappearance, a thing that made Harry's heart a little heavier.

Two's a company, three's a crowd, thought Harry bitterly. Everything was lost. Everything.

Harry's eyes danced with a fierce green fire as he thought of Hermione. Hermione, his best friend of eleven years. Hermione, with her copper eyes and curly auburn hair. Hermione, his former lover...

A tear threatened to trickle down his cheek as he thought about his object of affection.

He remembered when they first kissed, in their fifth year. It had been when they were walking back to the castle from one of Harry's Quidditch games. Hermione put a sisterly arm around his shoulder, and was talking to him nonchalantly about their Potions homework when he could not hide his veiled emotions. He simply turned, pulled her up close to him, and kissed her softly.

It was Harry's first kiss, a kiss so soft, so pure. Hermione did not pull away, rather, she melted into the kiss, wrapping her arms around his neck and tasting his lips. He finally parted from her beautiful face. She looked at him, in a way that made Harry's knees almost give away. And then, without a word, she pulled his head closer to hers and kissed him back...

Harry's thoughts came back to the present as his fingers clenched and unclenched, a habit Harry had taken a liking to doing when he was nervous or upset. He thought again about Hermione...

They had dated for four years. Those four years had been the best of Harry's life. Hermione had turned into his soul mate, the girl who he could depend on, the girl who he needed, the girl that he thought would love him with all of her heart and soul, and he would return that love with a fiery passion. He did not know what he would have done with himself if she had not been there when he had finally come face to face with Lord Voldemort, one last time, and had destroyed him. He did not know if he could have survived without her holding his hand in the hospital wing at Hogwarts, waking up from his nightmares that still haunted his sleep. He thought that nothing would ever break the chain that bound them together...

But the chain had not proved to be strong enough. He, Ron, and Hermione, the Dream Team that could never be pulled apart, had rented a flat together after graduation, where each would live and pursue their ambitions, Hermione's, to be a mediwizard, Harry, to be a Quidditch player, and Ron, to be an Auror. It was a few months after they had moved in when Hermione broke it off.

"We love the memories of what we once had," she had said, her eyes brimm ing with tears, "but it's gone, Harry. It's gone."

Harry did not have any idea why she was crying, the one who was ending the most blessed years of his existence.

After that, Harry had truly lived the bachelor's life. A new girlfriend every week. He had even dated Cho Chang, his first crush. But none of the girls, no matter how gorgeous, charming, and intelligent, could ever compare to Hermione. They were bland and dry compared to her exquisite beauty, her sharp wit, and her gracefulness. All of them were fools.

Harry stared at a picture of all three of them, a picture that he kept in his wallet. His arm was around Hermione's waist, and Ron was off to his left, waving at the camera. Harry remembered that after that picture was taken, he had pulled Hermione off to the side.

"I love you, Herm," he whispered in her ear.

"I love you back, Harry Potter," she teased. They had kissed after that, though Ron had smacked Harry on the head in the middle of it, telling them off for snogging in public.

Ron. The fire-headed Ron, his best friend, had unknowingly stabbed him in the back. Harry was not angry with Ron, though. Ron did not know. No one knew, not even Hermione. No one even dreamed that Harry Potter still had a burning desire for his former girlfriend. He could not be mad at them for loving one another, for having beautiful emotion towards each other. There was only Harry standing off in the distance, on the outside, looking in.

Harry thought about the bitter irony of it all. The Boy Who Lived, the Captain for the Chudley Cannons, the winner of five Quidditch Cups, the Man Who Defeated the Dark Lord, could have had any girl he chose, and he only wanted the Girl Who Got Away...

Harry Potter, the famous Harry Potter, started to cry. The glimmering tears fell from his emerald eyes, as he held his head in his arms.

"Harry! What's wrong?"

It was Hermione. She ran to his side, caressing his back, her bronze eyes looking into his own green ones. She looked, and she understood. She understood who the tears were for, and who had drawn the arrow that had pierced Harry's heart.

"Harry," she gasped, "Oh, Harry..."

She embraced him, his former sweetheart, and friend until the end of time. And she embraced simply Harry, and no other. Her diamond ring glittered.

"Harry! Herm! Come upstairs!" bellowed Ron from his room, "I've found some of our old school photos!"

Again they both looked into one another's eyes. Hermione leaned forward and gently kissed him on the lips, her brown curls caressing his face. Harry knew that this was the last time they would ever do this, and wished that the moment could go on forever.

But the moment ceased to exist, and Hermione's lips departed from his, leaving an imprint of warmth. Harry knew that though she had kissed him, her heart was somewhere else. Harry finally let go of his hope that one day, they would be together again.

Quietly, he took her hand, and they left the kitchen and walked towards Ron's voice.

Drink with me, to days gone by...