Harmione One Shots

| Come Home

Summary: Harry comes home late from a dangerous mission for the Auror Office. Sparks fly when he and Hermione are reunited, and things take a surprising turn.

Ship: HarryPotterxHermioneGranger

All credit goes to Chemical_Raspberry on Ao3

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April rolled around, gray in its skies, carrying wind and storm in its pockets. Heavy clouds, stubborn and opaque, blanketed London, keeping the sun at bay. Rain swept the streets, filled to the brim with cars, its pitter-patter on windshields, a metronome for the passage of time on long, dreary days.

Hermione was leaving the Ministry that evening, the click-clack of her heels on the marble floor her only contribution to her conversation with Ron who was chatting away animatedly about his assignment over at the Auror Office. Dark artifacts? Non-tradeable materials? Something or other. She was clutching her paper cup of coffee like a lifeline, lifting it to her lips whenever her turn would have come to speak. Her thoughts were drifting... drifting...

"Hermione?"

"Hmm?" she said, her eyes snapping up to meet his.

"Any word from Harry?"

They had reached the lifts in the Atrium. She crushed the now empty paper cup in her hand, a crumpled witness to the way her morose day slipped through her fingers, to be replaced by a dreary evening. She worried her lip and averted her eyes, to avoid confronting the concern in Ron's gaze. Tapping her foot, she swallowed the lump in her throat. Her thoughts drifted to an empty home, a lonely blanket thrown haphazardly on the sofa in the sitting room, a solitary plate and mug.

"No," she said. "He was supposed to be back two days ago, but something must have come up."

"He's fine, you know. The DMLE places a trace on anyone in his position. We'd know if something was wrong."

"Yes, I know it's procedure for such missions."

Dangerous missions, Hermione added inwardly. Missions during which any kind of contact outside of scheduled Floo calls was discouraged, and delays in coming home were the norm. As were the silence in the sitting room, the cold bed sheets next to her, the mornings when she only had to brew one cup of coffee.

Ron touched her shoulder, and she flinched. For some reason, the world felt crooked.

"I know it's hard for you. It's been, what, six months?"

She shrugged, biting back a wave of sadness and watching it retreat, like waves after having kissed the shore.

"Yes, six months, give or take. It is what it is."

When they stepped into the lift, there was something like pity swirling around in Ron's eyes, and it stung. "Wanna grab dinner or something? Padma's working late tonight."

"I should get home," she said, looking down at the crumpled paper cup as though it had something particularly interesting written on it. "I have some paperwork to get to."

"Whatever helps keep your mind off things."

They parted in front of the Ministry, and Hermione cast an Impervius Charm on herself, so she could stand in the rain and absently watch the cars crawl by, imagining what issues the people behind those steering wheels had, besides their annoyance with the heavy traffic and their desire to get home after a hard day of work. Eventually, when she ran out of excuses to dawdle, she Apparated on the doorstep of her home in Godric's Hollow. Their home.

She fumbled with her keys and took a few moments to look up and down the deserted street through the curtain of heavy rain. Sometimes she wanted to be one with the wind and drift away. But no. Such musings had no place in her mind. She was Hermione Granger and she'd been through worse than a few evenings alone, biting her fingernails on the sofa, sick with worry.