Reckless

Prologue

Harry James Potter, a striking man with messy black hair and a scar across his forehead in the shape of a lightning bolt, stood in the middle of the floor of the bedroom he had spent so many holidays in. The once lively room, much like the rest of the house, was barren of its normal inhabitants. The sounds of laughter and music had faded, ripped away in the terror of the war. While they had won, it didn't feel like it. The faces of the lost and loved flashed through his mind in quick sessions; each jabbed at his heart just as painful as the last. He closed his green eyes and sagged down onto the end of the bed closest to him. He swallowed painfully as the smell of mown grass and spearmint toothpaste drifted up to him. As the pain weighed heavily on him, he once more wondered why he was even still here. He buried his head in his hands.

"Harry?" A soft British drawl so much like his called. He looked up from his hands to see his sister by all rights except blood standing at the doorway. That's right… It's because of her that he's still here. It's because of Hermione Granger, genius of her age, that he's still hanging on. "I've finished cleaning out G-her room…" Hermione whispered. Harry closed his eyes again as she looked brokenly around the room. Her chocolate brown eyes lingered on the orange Cuddly Cannons poster, the bed, and the picture on the nightstand. The picture featured a line of redheads and black and brown. Hermione walked slowly over to the picture and picked it up with shaking hands. A small noise build in the back of her throat as she put the picture into the small box with what little Harry had been able to get out of the way. Harry stood from the bed with a sharp jerk. He grabbed her wrist gently and began to pull her toward the door. "But…" She started.

"We'll finish tomorrow," Harry cut her off. With a sharp pop, they disappeared from the hallway of the Burrow and into the living room of their small two-bedroom, one bathroom flat. They stood in the middle of the room for a moment just looking at one another as the reality sank in yet again. The Weasleys, all nine of them, were gone. Both attempting to be strong for the other, Harry and Hermione blinked back the sting of tears. Hermione turned away from him.

"Are you hungry? I should make some sandwiches. We've been working on the house all day…" Hermione rambled slightly as she walked toward the small kitchen. Harry knew that she wasn't looking for an answer. No matter what he said, she would make the sandwiches anyway.

Hermione was awakened the next morning by an angry slam of the front door. Instantly, her wand was out and at the ready. She slipped from the covers quietly and opened her bedroom door. With a small peak out, she saw Harry stomping around toward the kitchen with a stack of envelopes in his hand.

"Are they still coming?" Hermione asked as she ran a hand through her wild, curly brown hair. Harry threw them into the trash with a small scowl.

"We've just lost our entire family and the loves of our lives," Hermione walked farther into the room and sat down at the kitchen table. She didn't bother pointing out that it had been four months since the end of the war, four months since the long funeral session. Had it really been that long? "Why can't they just give us a few days?"

"Maybe we should move," Hermione said in a dazed tone. Harry, not realizing that she had zoned out turned to her. His green eyes alight with fire.

"Maybe we should," Harry stated, snapping Hermione out of her dazed state.

"What?" She asked, her hand fell limply against the table top then slowly slid off of it. "Harry, I was just…" 'Kidding? No,' she realized. She hadn't been, not fully at least.

"I know, I know, but think about it," Harry advanced toward the table. His hands came down on the top of the small table gently. He leaned forward, putting all of his weight on them. "Who would know us in a place as far away as America?"

"The American wizards and witches…" Hermione said slowly. Her brown eyes studied her "brother" closely. This wasn't a relatively new thought for Harry, she realized. "How long have you been considering this?"

"Don't act like you haven't been!" Harry exclaimed. "I've seen the way you eye that picture of that kid," Hermione jerked back in surprise. Harry didn't notice, he simply continued, "you have a collection of clippings from his life inside a photo album in your trunk."

"How do you—Harry! Did you go through my things?!" Harry ignored her.

"You thought about living in America way before I did," Harry finished.

"Harry," Hermione sighed, running a hand through her hair, "you're talking about leaving our life behind."

"What life, Hermione? Because from where I'm sitting, this doesn't look like much of one! Living with these memories haunting every alcove of England-"

"And you think America won't be the same way?! You can't outrun them, Harry!"

"I DON'T CARE!" He bellowed suddenly. Hermione jumped. Harry lowered his voice, but not by much. "I can't keep living this way!" She was vaguely aware of a loud mutter coming from the other apartment ("and I can't keep living with constantly at war neighbors…") as silence fell over them. "I'm asking you to come with me."

"I never thought that was in question," Hermione replied instantly. Despite his previous anger, Harry smiled. Hermione returned it slowly, cautiously.

"So will you come to America with me?" He asked.

"After we finish our last year at Hogwarts, yes," Hermione answered. A small laugh escaped Harry's lips.

"Of course," he agreed. The two shared a small laugh. "Hungry?" Harry asked finally. It was now that Hermione noticed the mixture of flour, eggs, and milk on the counter. "I was making pancakes…when yeah…." He explained, rubbing the back of his neck.

"That sounds wonderful…"

Six Months Later…

Applause rang loudly through the Hogwarts grounds as the graduating class was introduced. As the hats fell around them, Harry leaned over and whispered to Hermione:

"Remember our agreement?" Hermione beamed over at him as she nodded. Harry gave a small chuckle and entwined his hand with hers. She smiled and squeezed it. Once upon a time, Harry would have been embarrassed and afraid to show affection for Hermione, but now, after so much grief, that affection had been the way they anchored one another. It further proved to them that there was still someone who cared even after the "glory" of the war died down.

"Congratulations, Harry, Hermione," Dean Thomas and Neville Longbottom told them. Hermione smiled while Harry shifted beside her. He wanted to get home so that they could leave.

"Thanks," Hermione told them. "Congrats to you too." At Harry's silence, Hermione nudged him discreetly in the side. He glared over at her, but glanced apologetically back at his two friends.

"What she said…" Harry muttered. "Well, no offense, guys, but we've got to be at the airport in a few hours." He excused. He didn't even wait for Dean or Neville to ask or say anything back; he simply began to pull Hermione away. Dean raised an eyebrow at their joined hands. As they walked, in Hermione's case pulled, away, Dean Thomas leaned over to Neville.

"Did you see that?" He asked. Neville nodded.

"I don't think it's what you're thinking though," Neville told him. He knew those two and had watched those two all of his life. He knew the relationship between Harry and Hermione was and would always be strictly platonic. He turned as a somber Luna Lovegood greeted him from his right. A small blush crept down his neck.

"Hey, Luna…" Dean snorted and patted his friend on the back before walking to find his girlfriend in the mass of people.

At the apartment, Harry lingered by Hermione's door. He stared at his "sister" as she caressed the photo of the brown haired boy. Not for the first time since seeing it, he wondered who he was and why she handled that picture with even more care that she handled the Weasleys' photo. Many times he had been tempted to ask who he was, but the words always froze on his tongue. As she closed her suitcase and trunk, he walked down the hallway to gather his own bag.

In the past few months before graduation, they had chosen a location to move, Washington D.C., and an apartment to stay in while they weren't working. One would think that the duo had grown tired of seeing one another every day, but that wasn't the case. Despite the fights they have and the times they've stormed out of the apartment, their system worked. Being without one another after all this time was inconceivable so much so that they had even applied for openings in the Auror department at the American Ministry of Magic together.

Things were finally getting back to normal for the pair. Hermione could read her technical books without expecting Ron or Ginny to interrupt her with questions of how she could read it when it was so "boring"; and Harry could finally fly without expecting the Weasley siblings to be beside him.

As they both readied to board the plane (seeing as they didn't know enough about the District to apparate), Hermione wondered if what they were doing was the best idea then the part of her that had been most affected by Ron and Harry told her to take that risk, to be a little reckless by choice for just once in her life.

Hermione drew in a deep breath as the plane left the tracks; from beside her, Harry gave a short laugh. He reached over and offered her his hand. She grasped for it and held it tightly. Despite her fear, she looked out the window and watched as England faded into the distance. She leaned her head back against the seat and fought off the nausea. She was leaving her home behind.

"Thank you," Hermione's head swiveled over to Harry. He was staring at her from his own head rest. She smiled. "I know you didn't want to do this, not fully, but you are….for me."

"Oh, you so owe me," Hermione drawled.

"I know I do…"

(A/N: This is a story in response to Challenge King. I sincerely hope that this story lives up to expectations. I will attempt to deadline myself and make it so that a chapter be posted every Wednesday. [That way I still have time to update the other stories I have incomplete.])