Harry Potter: Syndicate of Heroes

On a whim, Harry stepped between a pillar and wall and conjured a small placard. A thick black pen was added which he used to write on said placard. And then, feeling completely ready, he re-joined the crowd milling about the arrival gate.

The plane, he knew, had landed some time ago, but having vast experience with how long it took to get through customs when entering a new country, not to mention the general slowness of people disembarking a plane and gathering their luggage in the first place, he wasn't worried.

In fact, he was kind of surprised when the first people emerged from said gate, looking around for either friends, family or simply a sign pointing where to go.

Straightening, Harry manoeuvred himself into a prime position and held the placard between his hands. He was sure that he was failing abysmally at keeping the mischievous grin off of his face, but he didn't care.

Two dozen people had already filed out of the small entryway with Harry giving each one a brief look over before dismissing them.

And then, at the very back of the next group, he spied a head of bushy, brown hair. Well, it was in actual fact a lot more tamed than it once had been, but that didn't diminish Harry's ability to pick it out from a crowd.

Suddenly the path between them opened up and Harry could see her properly.

Hermione.

She had hardly changed at all; still as beautiful as the very last day that he saw her so many years ago. She had filled out a little in the hips and chest area, perhaps, but still maintained her slim figure. And her outfit accentuated that figure very nicely indeed – a pair of jeans and a snug dark blue shirt.

He watched as her eyes systematically began scanning the waiting crowd before fixing on him. Her eyes flicked down to the sign that he held and an eyebrow rose along with a small smile as she looked back into his eyes.

And then she was running towards him, her luggage rocking dangerously on its little wheels as it tried to keep up. It was dropped, along with Harry's placard as she flung herself into his arms.

"Harry!" she near-squealed into his ear.

"Hey, 'Mione," Harry replied as he took in the all-too familiar scent of her – some type of berry that he'd never been able to identify with just a hint of parchment.

Slowly, she pulled back, her hands cupping his face as her eyes intently roved over him – eyes, hair, scar, before she frowned slightly at his ear. A single look told him that he'd be explaining what he was doing with a pierced ear or else and he couldn't help but give a lop-sided grin. It was a look that he'd never been able to resist, all the way back to first year at Hogwarts when she'd first looked at him that way.

"I promise that you'll hear everything," he told her.

"Good," she said, giving a single emphatic nod. Then, "oh, Harry, it's so good to see you! It's been far too long."

"I know, I've missed you, too, 'Mione," he replied.

Then, stepping slightly apart from her, he reached down and grabbed up her luggage and his placard with one hand, took her hand in his free one and tugged her along.

"Come on, let's get out of here before the crowds grab all the taxis," he said.

She smiled and swung his arm wildly, excitedly, in a way that he'd never seen her do before. He could see the thousand and one questions bursting inside her. Finally, she seemed to settle on one.

"'Granger'? Really?" she asked, motioning to the placard in his hand.

"Well, you might have forgotten what I looked like you see," he grinned.

A playful smack against his arm rebuked the very thought. "Never gonna happen, Harry," she told him.

In response, he gave her hand a squeeze, only to feel an answering one in return.

"I know you've got a lot of questions, Hermione," Harry said, "but let's save the big ones until we get you home."

"Home," Hermione repeated with a smile. "I like the sound of that."

ooo00ooo

"Wow, Harry! This looks amazing!" Hermione exclaimed as he opened up the final door to his apartment.

Ascending the stairs from the side door had easily taken four or five times as long as it should have as Hermione insisted on stopping to examine every picture that lined the walls. To keep it on the safe side, these were strictly photos that he'd taken of various mundane landscapes and places of interest from all over the world and every continent – the pyramids of Egypt, the Victoria Falls in Zambia, the Taj Mahal, the Great Wall of China, the great plains of Africa filled with various wildlife. Some had Harry in them, some didn't, but what they all had in common was that they were all places that Harry had actually been to.

His magical photo collection he kept either in the magical part of his library or his bedroom, places where people wouldn't normally go, thus protecting the Statute of Secrecy.

It was almost as though Hermione had even forgotten that he was there as she glided forth, drawn around the room, examining everything in detail. The mantle above his average-sized fireplace was her first stop, there to lightly reach out and touch each of the intricately carved figurines there. He'd collected them from all around the world, each one an animal native to the land that it came from and each so well done that one could almost imagine that they would be able to get up and run around.

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