Balloons

Disclaimer: Harry Potter isn’t mine – it belongs to J.K. Rowling and other related companies. Only the fic’s mine.

Author’s Note: I know, I know. Seems that plot bunnies are coming out of nowhere for me . . anyway, little Harry and Hermione at the circus. The Dursleys are making Harry’s life miserable as usual . . and you’ll see what happens after that. I stole part of the idea from Sandra. *sheepish* I hope you don’t mind. And Harry and Hermione are six to seven-years-old. This goes out to Christine, HB, Sandra, Nielle, Pen, Romy and Jennifer :D And to everyone else who bothered to read, let alone review, my stories. Thanks.

The loud bellowing yells of the Dursleys filled the whole stadium. Harry shut his eyes tightly; his ears were beginning to hurt from all the yelling. Why did they have to be so loud? Couldn’t they just talk and not shout? And he wanted to enjoy the circus; not hear his aunt and uncle’s screams the whole time.

“C’mon, ,” Uncle Vernon gestured for to follow him, and glared at Harry. “We don’t want to be late for the circus, do we?” He turned around. “There’s going to be clowns, elephants, trapeze artists and . . ” As he got farther away, his voice trailed off, carried away by the wind.

Harry sighed and followed them, his aunt after him. It was better if he just ignored them and enjoyed the circus instead.

After all, this was the highlight of every summer for Harry – for he got to visit the circus.

And best of all, he didn’t have to stay with Mrs. Figg and her dozens of milling cats – nor be locked up in the cupboard.

While the Dursleys wandered around, checking out the sights, Harry looked around in wonder. All around him were a mix of different things: trapezes, bright-colored clowns handing odd-shaped balloons of every size to cheerful, wide-eyed children; tricycles, jugglers, elephants, a lion – and there were lots more, he knew. Nothing compared to the circus when it came to size and variety. A fair didn’t even come close.

“Harry!” A cross voice broke his thoughts. “What are you doing? Get out of there!”

His aunt.

Sighing for what seemed the fiftieth time that day, Harry deftly climbed out of the alcove that he’d been in (it was right next to the crowd of children and clowns) and headed over to the Mad Hatter’s stall, where his aunt, uncle and cousin were at.

“We don’t have all day, Harry; couldn’t you at least pick up the pace a little?” His uncle was annoyed, Harry could tell. Just by the scowl on his face and the veins in both his face and neck popping out, you could really tell.

“Yes, Uncle .” Harry murmured, and followed after them.

“Ooh! – would you look over there? See the little elephant – isn’t it cute?” His aunt squealed.

Harry just shook his head, and walked on.

They were near the bleachers now – it was almost time for the show to start. The Dursleys were still oohing and ahhing at the sights – after all, why wouldn’t they? The place was overwhelmingly large and magnificent – it was filled (not crammed) to the brim with all sorts of things – a crazy mixture of odds and ends, stalls and acts.

“We better get going and find a good seat before anyone else steals it,” Uncle Vernon remarked. “The best seat in the house for us, I say!”

“Really, Dad?” was amazed. “Could you get us one?”

Harry couldn’t help but laugh to himself at this. They were worrying about the best seat in the house? The best thing about the circus was the circus, not some silly old seat!

He realized that they were glaring at him and quickly hurried after them.

“Mummy! Mummy!” a girl’s voice broke through the chaos. “I lost my book! And I can’t find it!”

“We’ll find it, Herbunny. You’ll just have to wait a little longer, okay?” This time it was a woman’s voice.

“Hey, mister, have you seen my book?” Someone tapped him on the shoulder now.

Harry jumped and turned around to face her. Vaguely he felt his foot hit something on the floor. Something smooth yet firm. He took his foot off it and picked it up off the floor.

A book? “Is this yours?” he asked the girl, handing it over to her.

Her eyes widened. “Yes, it is! Thank you so much! I’ve been looking for this all day!” She took it. “I can’t tell you how happy I am that you found this!”

“Well, it was no big deal, really . . .” Harry muttered sheepishly.

“It is a big deal!” She put her hands on her hips exasperatedly. “So what’s your name?” she asked curiously. She was curious about him – he looked forlorn and lost and lonely – and she couldn’t really describe it. “Mine’s Hermione.”

“Harry.” He replied, smiling slightly. She was quite a character, this Hermione. “Nice to meet you, Hermione.”

She nodded; it was the same for her. “Anyway, I don’t know how to thank you, I really am grateful, you know . . .” She trailed off. “Actually, hold on a second. Wait here, don’t move.” Then she was gone, bushy brown curls flying behind her.

While he waited, Harry looked around for his aunt, uncle and cousin. No sign of them – seemed that they had left without him in search of seats for themselves.

Soon she returned.

“Harry! I’ve got something for you! I know it’s not much, but . . . here.” She handed him an oddly-shaped balloon. At a closer glance he saw that it was a horse-shaped balloon. A green horse-shaped balloon, no less. “I hope you like it.” was all she said.

Harry couldn’t think of anything to say. “Wow . . thanks, Hermione.”

She gave him a shy smile. “No problem. So you do like it?” she asked.

He nodded and smiled back.

“Anyway, I better go; my mum’s probably worrying about me. I’ll see you around sometime, all right?” She gave him a look.

“Sure,” was all he could say.

“Good then,” She was happy. Then she hesitated for a moment, lingering. “Bye, Harry.”

Then she was gone.

Harry could only watch after her, a red balloon in his hand and a sad twinge of a smile on his face.

- end flashback -

“So that’s how you two met!” Ron exclaimed. “Why didn’t you ever tell me?”

“We thought we’d keep it a secret,” Hermione laughed.

“Seriously, now.” He folded his arms together.

“We ourselves didn’t know, Ron, until we became best friends,” Harry explained. “But even then we didn’t mention it, because we weren’t sure if that was true or not; if we had met each other when we were little.”

“Ah, I see. Now Hermione’s giving you balloons for another special occasion, Harry.” Ron smirked.

Hermione’s face reddened with embarrassment. “Ron!”

He left, laughing. “Y’know I’m right, Hermione!” was the last thing he said before he was gone.

After a few minutes of silence, Harry spoke.

“What was the special occasion, Hermione?”

“Our wedding night, of course!” she gave him a look. “And . . .” she trailed off. “What happens next after that.”

Harry grinned impishly. “I had a feeling it was.”

“Harry!” Hermione exclaimed, laughing.

“Good choice, though. Balloons.” he nodded appreciatively. “They did lead us to meeting each other.”

“And they were the ones that brought us together in the end,” Harry and Hermione chorused together.

The sounds of laughing followed, and then there was silence.

Somewhere, Harry thought, a little girl’s simple gesture was changing a lost lonely boy’s life forever; just by giving him a green horse-shaped balloon.

The moral of this story: Balloons have more than one cause for celebration, after all.