The Unlikely Reunion [a Harry Potter oneshot]

The Unlikely Reunion

Author's notes: 

Hi! Since this is my first story it's obviously not going to be that good. So if you could leave any comments or advice on how I could improve that would be awesome. 

Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoy! 💜 

                                                                                        *****

Hermione tugged the ragged scarf higher up her neck, even whilst knowing that it was physically impossible,  the faded maroon tinted Gryffindor scarf was as high as it could go. Her chin resting in the warm clumps of weaved wool as she began to walk towards the front door. She was certain that if anyone were to walk by, they were sure to question her insanity as she walked calmly, barely swaying from the constant gusts of wind. Though she was calm,  her body would say otherwise, the honey hair atop her head blew rather viciously to the left and her cheeks  were flushed red from the cold. On the dim street stood lamplights, dull and dark through the fog. They stood up straight and tall like soldiers standing for attendance even as the rough breeze tried to  blow them away. If you listened closely, you could here the rattle of nails in the ground as they passionately gripped on the lamp pole for dear life. Making her way even closer towards number 11 and 13 Grimmauld place, Hermione breathed out heavily, partially from excitement, the other from the cold. In the distance, a lamp flickered.

Slowing her stride, Hermione admired the view in front of her, eyes wide in fascination. A long, thin, black stone slab had made itself present, it's figure getting taller by the second, then soon, wider too. It rudely shoved its neighbours aside. And by the time Hermione had made it to the front steps, Number 12 Grimmauld place had finished transforming and was standing there in all it's glory.

"Never fails to surprise me"

Murmured Hermione under her breath, smiling a small smile. Even through years of coming here, the appearance of Number 12 Grimmauld place never stopped intriguing her. The magic used when building the site was a rather ancient, advanced type of skill that even Hermione, Brightest Witch of Her Age, hasn't been able to master. Grinning a little maniacally, she confidently rang the doorbell. Jumping a little giddily at the same time in her excitment.

The wooden entryway  was answered almost immediately, as though the owner of the house had been waiting beside it rather than preparing down the hallway, and as the knob turned, Hermione found a pair of emerald green eyes greeting her, grinning wildly. His hair had the same unruly raven colour and though he had matured and had faint crows feet at the corners of his eyes, he still had that bright glint of mischief hidden beneath it all. Harry's grin became impossibly wider with joy when he saw the being in front of him. Hugging her in an awfully tight embrace he exclaimed

"Hermione, God, it's been so long!"

He hugged her again fiercely, leaving her barely any room to breath.

"How have you been?"

He freed her now, but still gripped Hermione's shoulders tightly, as if she was going to turn around and dissaparate the minute he let go. Hermione gave him her reply. The small talk quickly turned into a 20-minute one and by the time she was ushered into the now-warm family home. A steady snowfall had started outside.

Harry had immediately ordered a renovation the second after the war had ended. The previous house elf heads were now all thankfully gone and sitting peacefully in their graves with the body and with the help of over 9 and a half months of intense studying, Hermione had figured out how to remove the centuries-old portrait of Great Aunt Walburga. The painted face shouted profanities throughout the whole process as the ancient artefact was dropped into a charmed soundproof bag by the Wizarding Cleaning Department. (Because yes, even the ministry had those).