Chapter 11: Duo

Harry stepped forward and pulled Hermione into a gentle embrace. She brought her arms up and around him after a moment, leaning into the physical contact. She exhaled slowly as they stood there hugging.

"I missed you as well, Harry," she eventually said. It was uncanny—being here in Scotland and with Harry after so long—but not altogether unpleasant. She wasn't really sure how to feel, though, since such a gulf of time separated this and their last meaningful contact.

They were different people now. They had different interests, different career paths, and different priorities. The closeness and intimacy they shared during their teenage years was now a faint feeling of regret or nostalgia, or perhaps both.

She had missed him, though—she wasn't lying about that. The frequency of her thoughts about Harry and Ron and her Hogwarts years had diminished during her eight years in Australia, but they were all a significant part of her past she could never forget. And now Harry was here, in the flesh, hugging her.

Life was a complicated thing to figure out.

They eventually separated and returned to their seats, though their eyes were consistently drawn to the other. Hermione thought he looked good; not so scrawny and disheveled, and although he had always been a handsome boy, adulthood had hardened the edges in his face and sharpened his fine looks. His startlingly green eyes, comfortingly, had remained the same.

"What are you thinking right now, Hermione?" he asked, his gaze settled on her once again. She blinked and looked away for a moment. How could she put all the myriad emotions and thoughts and memories that were passing through her into sufficient words?

"A lot of things, honestly," she decided to say, since it was the truth. Maybe she shouldn't try to distill it all into vague pleasantries or rote platitudes? Maybe they owed it to each other to talk frankly?

Harry raised his eyebrows in a question and a prompt: Oh? Do tell.

"I'm thinking how strange it is to be sitting here with you after so long. I'm thinking that we barely know each other anymore—we know who the other was back then, but I don't really know anything about you now. I'm thinking our lives have taken us in entirely different directions yet something inevitably drew us back here, to this place and to each other. I'm thinking that I don't want it to be another decade before I see you again."

She just let the words flow, hoping it all made sense. Harry didn't seem perplexed; rather, he looked thoughtful.

He slowly nodded. "I had similar thoughts," he responded, his voice and eyes far away. "Since I received the invitation from Flitwick, I've been trying to figure out where it all cocked up for us." He paused, but it didn't seem like he was finished, so Hermione let him gather his thoughts. Sure enough, after a moment, he continued.

"When we were younger, we blamed a lot of things—the war, Voldemort, Dumbledore, the Wizarding world in general, and even Ron I think. At the time they seemed liked good reasons, and I think I really believed them too, but now they don't seem so great. Now they seem a little trite and convenient.

"You're right that we're two different people now, but we always were. I was never very studious or committed to book work, and you were the most devoted to it out of everyone I knew. I loved flying and you hated it. I hated most authority figures and you respected most of them. But through all of our fundamental differences, we worked. We knew what the other wanted and needed; we knew how to calm the other down or what to say to smooth things over. We never really fought and when we did, it was usually for a good reason.

"I don't know if time changes character that deep down, Hermione. Sitting here looking at you after all this time—it brings back all those feelings I once repressed so well. That time in the kitchen at Grimmauld… well, I shouldn't have let you go then or I should have followed you. It all boils down to the choices we make, and I thought I was making the right rather than easy choice at the time, but it's clear to me now I was actually doing the easy thing rather than the right thing."

His words petered out and his eyes refocused on her. Hermione didn't know what to say. Once he'd started the words just flowed and suddenly she was back in the kitchen kissing him, remembering the anguish of that separation when she'd left and he hadn't followed. She was literally stunned speechless. When had Harry become so insightful or eloquent?

"To be clear," she started, slowly, clearing her throat, "you're talking mainly about me and you, right? Not me, you, and Ron?"

Harry nodded. "That's exactly what I'm talking about."

After a moment: "Why now, Harry?"

"Because now that you're here I don't want to lose you all over again."

If Hermione were bluntly honest with herself, she would not deny that Harry in her life again was an attractive thought. But she was deeply skeptical of continuing any farther down that road unless they talked about things more concretely and less emotionally. It may hurt them both, but some things needed to be said.

She sighed. "Look, Harry, I know I'm feeling nostalgic right now, sitting here with you after so long. I remember the kiss we shared and what we said after, and it was all true at the time—both our feelings for each other and also why we couldn't be together. Just because we were dealing with some post-traumatic stress on top of lots of other things doesn't make what we did easy at the time, so don't beat yourself up over it. I'm certainly not. We chose our paths for a reason and I think we're both happy and successful, from what we've talked about today.

"I had feelings for you for a long time, probably since third year or so. If I had to pinpoint one reason why I never acted on them or why I never told you during school, I wouldn't be able to. How can you qualify a life lived so simply? I don't regret it either, and I don't want this to turn into that."

Harry looked troubled but didn't immediately say anything. She didn't like to burst his bubble and a part of her heart was yearning to just leap across the space between them and cuddle with him, but that would be rash and stupid and probably lead to regret.

His face smoothed after a moment. He even managed a small smile.

"When did you first know?"

"Know what?"

"That you liked me?"

"Harry," she started, "I don't see how that matters…"

"Indulge me," he responded, with a slight pout. She rolled her eyes at his theatrics but leaned back and stared at the ceiling, casting her mind back to the murky past for the answer to his question.

"I think it was the night we saved Sirius and Buckbeak," she said. Talk about surreal—time travel and magical beasts? "We were a team, a really good team, and we made a difference. I think I had a bit of a hero's crush on you before that because of the troll but that night really solidified our friendship. And it also made you so much more real to me, seeing you with Sirius."

"I wasn't real before that?" he asked, smiling.

"You know what I mean," she said.

"Sure," he replied, easily.

"What about you? When did you first know you liked me?"

"Well…a lot of my memories of Hogwarts are pretty vague now, but I there's one that hasn't faded at all with time. We were in the library toward the end of third year, just you and me, studying back in your corner where those squashy chairs are. You were sitting in the one that gets the morning sun and I was sitting on the side; you had your sleeves rolled up and your shirt unbuttoned a little; your legs were crossed and you had taken your shoes off. You were jiggling your bare foot to a tune only you could hear, smiling to yourself and reading the book.

"I remember this so clearly," he continued, seeing her look, "because it was the first time you were real to me, that you were a girl, and quite pretty I might add. Because your legs were crossed, your skirt had ridden up a bit, and being the boy I was I followed your leg up from your foot to your calf and the side of your thigh, where I was highly interested in all that skin. You looked so content and beautiful sitting there in the sunlight that it really dawned on me for the first time that I had an amazing and talented friend and I was very lucky."

Her left eyebrow crept up of its own accord, and she couldn't keep the smirk of her face. "Harry Potter, you were creeping on me!" she exclaimed, though in a playful tone softened by the smirk.

He grinned. "I suppose I was."

A comfortable silence stretched over them for a few moments, where they both reflected on what had been said and the long-ago memories brought to the fore. Something unspoken passed between them and they made eye contact; both realized a lot of what had been said in the past—and even today—was water under the bridge now. What really mattered was how they both chose to move forward from here.

"Hermione—"

"Harry—" they both started at the same time. They grinned and Harry nodded for her to continue.

"Regardless of what we've done or who we've become, I want to see you again."

"And I, you," he returned.

"Distance and work make that difficult, though," she countered. She hoped he would have a better answer than the last time.

He nodded, affirming her point. "True, but I can make the jump to Sydney now."

"There is a nine hour time difference between London and Sydney," she returned. She wanted to be as realistic as possible. Deluding themselves would help nothing.

"I do not necessarily have set working hours," he replied, rather enigmatically. She didn't know exactly what he did, except to assume his 'venture capitalism' placed him fairly highly in the magical government and perhaps even the mundane one as well. Only time would tell.

"What about Teddy?"

"He's at school during the day."

"What exactly are you suggesting, Harry?" she wondered.

"Nothing more than a chance," he replied. "Ten in the morning my time is seven in the evening your time. Teddy will be at school and I can do as I please most of the time. Will you let me take you out for dinner or drinks or both in Sydney?"

"I'd like that…" she started, but trailed off.

"But what?" he asked.

"…to what end? It will be impossible in the long run to maintain a nine hour time difference. Once or twice is fine but it would exhaust both of us and I'm not willing to do that to myself or anyone else."

There. It had to be said. The pink elephant in the room was still the fact that she lived in Australia, which wouldn't be changing anytime soon, and he lived in England.

Harry looked down and rubbed his eyes. She felt a little badly for bursting his bubble—and to be fair there were some deep pangs of regret in her heart—but surely this would lead to greater misery later if they weren't upfront about all of this.

He looked up. "I am asking you to give this a chance—it's only dinner or drinks. It's not a lifetime commitment."

"I just want to be realistic, is all," she told him, meeting his eyes. "We owe it to ourselves now to do that."

"I agree," he replied. "Which is why I'd like to get to know you again, Hermione, and if that means I need to apparate all the way to Sydney to do just that, I will do it. I let you go once and I don't want to do it again, even if we're only friends."

Against her wishes, her eyes watered a bit at his sentiment. Here was the man she had secretly loved so long ago asking her to restart a friendship lost. What could a casual date or two hurt in the long run?

She sniffed and wiped her eyes, smiling once again. "Okay, Harry. It's a date."

He grinned. "Brilliant."

They exchanged mobile numbers and email addresses and, after one more lingering embrace, parted ways for the night.