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Symbiosis	By : MmeFleiss Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Harry/Hermione Views: 10035 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

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Title:�Symbiosis� (2/?)

Author's Name: MmeFleiss
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations
created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited
to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc.
No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
AN: Sorry for the delay, but I got distracted by a PWP
and a number
of drabbles while
I was supposed to be working on this. Yes, my attention span really is that
awful. Special thanks to Jenn who beta'd this in between bouts of morning sickness.
*~*~*~*~*
If anyone had asked Harry during the weeks following the final battle what kind
of future he saw before him, it would�ve been easily apparent how much he�d
anticipated the normal life just waiting for him to pick back up after the War.
From what he could gather from the disjointed remains of the fevered dreams he
had at the time, this desire usually manifested itself with a vision of a
cottage in a remote village somewhere, complete with a white picket fence and
fields of wildflowers as far as the eye could see. The only proof of its
owners� existence was a dilapidated postbox nearly overrun by thick brambles,
the faded H. Potter as unremarkable as the man who bore its name.

More often than not, Ron and Hermione would be there visiting so that their
children could play with their cousins. Despite the various adventures the
youngsters became involved with, they always remained perfect in a way only
dream children were allowed to be: their white cotton shirts unblemished and
their silk ribbons remaining tied into flawless bows. Nobody ever cried in
those dreams; only childish giggles blending with the lower tones of their
parents� laughter in the drowsy June air.

However, reality turned out to not be so accommodating. If it had been, he
wouldn�t be living in the middle of the Sahara now with only the ever-changing
roster of trainees and his fellow instructors to keep him company.

Sometimes, Harry still had trouble believing he�d been gone for so long. The
six years away had wrought so many changes, not the least of which was the
unmistakably adult features that stared back at him in the mirror every day.
Long gone were the knobby knees and the famous scar that had so defined the Boy
Who Lived, replaced by a healthy-looking man filled out from his years of Auror
training and an uninterrupted succession of decent meals. The scar had
thankfully disappeared along with Voldemort during the final battle, a fact
which left the current Harry Potter so ordinary looking as to be mistaken for
any other wizard.

In fact, outside of the other trainers and the handful of rookies he�d gotten
to know well in both Hogwarts and during the War, no one else had been able to
make a connection to his actual identity. It was funny how a few superficial
alterations in one�s appearance coupled with the expectation that Auror
training and then the teaching of it was somehow beneath the man who defeated
Voldemort could change things. Harry, who had been yoked to people�s
preconceived perceptions of him for as long as he could remember, still had to
occasionally pinch his arm in disbelief for getting the chance to be treated just
like any other bloke.

But of course, human nature being the perverse thing that it is, Harry often
found himself beset with homesickness despite the endless possibilities his
newfound freedom presented him with. It was usually at its worst on days when
he couldn�t rely on exhaustion to lull him to sleep. His activities would range
from something as active as him having a drink with some of his co-workers to
something mindless like him staring at the moonlight filtering through the
gossamer curtains whilst he lay in bed: but he always found himself paralyzed
by an almost painful longing over things as stupid as the memory of treacle
pudding against his tongue or the ever-present sound of raindrops spattering on
the windowpane.

However, Harry had been away playing hero for so long that he feared he was
simply setting himself up for a big disappointment. It seemed as if every owl
he�d received over the years were always mentioning a new feature or two in the
name of progress. Just last year, Mr. Weasley sent him a two-feet-long
parchment over the magical world�s recent adaptation of eklectricity.
Harry was truly happy to hear how much the rebuilding was helping so many move
on from the War, but he couldn�t help but wonder if he could continue to call
home a place he hardly recognized.

�Saba�a AlKair, lieutenant,� a young voice belonging to a boy no older
than twelve called out from somewhere in his general vicinity, breaking his
melancholy reverie.

�Good morning, Muhammad,� Harry greeted in turn as he stopped and turned to
catch a glimpse of the diminutive imp, paying no heed to the grumblings of the
turbaned men behind him. He soon found his friend by a fruit stand no more than
five feet to his left. No doubt the mischievous boy had managed to charm yet another
vendor, judging by how the old crone didn�t even pause in her haggling with the
tourist in the starched khakis while Muhammad filched one of the browning
bananas in front of her and swallowed it in two bites.

Shaking his head, Harry made his way towards the sun-bronzed youth and
wordlessly bought him a fresher bunch before heading onto one of the less
crowded alleys specializing in incense. He dispatched the approaching vendors
hawking their wares with practiced ease, only pausing to modify his stride so
that the shorter boy could keep up. �When�s the last time you ate anything?�

�Yesterday, I think,� the young boy managed to utter in between mouthfuls,
wiping the sticky juice from his fingers to his stained shirt that had probably
at one point been white. �Definitely on that day when those tourists stopped by
the village. I found half a hamburger from the city when I went through their
garbage. It was delicious; I do not know why they threw it away.�

Harry glared at the shimmering horizon, his forehead creased in effort as he
tried not to overreact. He learned long ago that such tactics only led to
wounded pride followed by a couple of days of avoidance. �You could have come
to me,� he said in a voice free of inflection. �You know we always have some
food to spare at the training camp.�

�Am I so pathetic?� Muhammad asked instead, smiling just a little too brightly
as he gave a little hop, leaving a small cloud of sand in his wake.

�You know that�s not what I��

�I wake up every day and think about how lucky I am,� the younger boy
continued, giving a passing beggar the rest of his food to make his point. �I
don�t need your pity.�

Harry saw the familiar, firm set of his jaw and sighed. He�d been hoping to
ease in his news during a more upbeat moment. �I�m leaving tomorrow.�

�Then when you get back and see me still healthy, I will have proven to you
that��

�For good, Muhammad. I got my transfer orders last night.�

The younger boy bowed his head, bony shoulders shaking while Harry stopped and
pretended to take interest at a stall selling hand-carved lanterns.

The grand speech that had seemed so perfect the night before stuck painfully in
his throat. He wished he had a Time-Turner so he could redo this conversation
again; make it so that it wouldn�t be impossible for Muhammad to agree to come
back to England with him without relinquishing his dignity.

�I-I�ll make sure to come visit.�

�No, you won�t. You�ll step back into your life and forget me just like
everyone else.�

Seeing Muhammad try to act blas� about the whole situation--even as he
continued to keep his amber eyes averted and hidden from view with his too-long
dark fringe--was like seeing his fifteen-year-old self through a Pensieve,
filled with the knowledge that in the end he had nobody else to rely on but
himself.

Except in Harry�s case he had Hermione, Ron, and the rest of the Weasleys to
reassure him that he wasn�t alone. Muhammad only had experience reinforcing his
fears to refer to. It was high time he was proven otherwise.
�Well then I guess it�s a good thing I�m not everyone else,� Harry said as he
shoved his hands into his trouser pockets and forced the corners of his lips to
quirk upwards.
End (2/?)

*~*~*~*~*

AN: Any guesses where this is going? ^^
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Symbiosis