PART 4
Hermione was dying to talk to Harry, really talk to him, but knew she had to delay it for the two hour trip home. She couldn't very well bring up what happened at the Ministry of Magic in front of (or behind, as the case was) her parents. She knew from the distant look in Harry's eyes that his thoughts dwelled on Sirius. She caught his eye and gave a sympathetic smile. He returned it, silently thanking her. She wasn't sure what made her do it, but Hermione took Harry's hand in her own and held it. It was a way for her to say she cared and she understood without a word.
Her parents asked questions about school and Hermione knew Harry didn't really want to talk, so she gave a huge yawn and declared that it would be great to take a nap on the way home. "I hardly slept at all last night," she explained. "I was too excited about going to get Harry today."
"So now that he's here, you're going to fall asleep on him?" John laughed.
"Oh, John!" Jane laughed. "Of course she is, honey. Now that Harry is here, all's right with the world."
Hermione turned very pink. Here she was holding Harry's hand and her mother dared to say that.
"Just about," Harry said, squeezing her hand tightly as if to say, You're not going anywhere. "I didn't sleep much last night either to tell you the truth." It's hard to sleep when your mind is tormenting you playing the scene of your godfather falling to his death because of you.
Hermione leaned against Harry's shoulder and they both were quiet the rest of the way. It was a comfortable silence for them. They didn't need words or small talk. They had each other and that was all they needed.
When they arrived at the Grangers, Harry noticed lights were already on. He wondered if they had left them on or if someone was inside. As it turned out, Hermione's grandmother was inside baby-sitting the youngest Granger, Juliette.
"My mom has a thing for Shakespeare," Hermione explained, her own name having derived from one of his plays. Julie was a bushy haired, big teethed, 8 year old who looked like a mini-Hermione prior to her magical tooth repair. "Julie hates to travel. She gets terrible motion sickness. She's not going to the States with us. But she's very excited about spending 3 weeks being spoiled rotten by Gram." Hermione hugged her grandmother. "This is Harry Potter," she said introducing them.
"It's nice to meet you, Harry," said Eloise Granger. "I'm so glad you could make the trip with my granddaughter." It wasn't lost on Harry that she did the typical glance at his forehead. He chided himself for being so self-conscious about people knowing who he was. Eloise Granger was a Muggle. Unless Hermione had told her she wouldn't know what the ugly scar meant.
"Me too," said Harry smiling. He looked around the Granger's house. It was a very nice two-story with beige carpeting and white painted walls. It appeared that each room had a wallpaper border which coordinated with the curtains. The furniture was in the living room was primarily cherry wood and leather. It looked expensive. "Thanks for saying you'll take care of Hedwig for me," he told her. Hermione had informed him that her grandmother was going to be staying at their house while they were gone and would be glad to take care of his owl.
"It's no trouble, dear." She said. "My grandmother had a pet owl. I grew up learning the," she paused for a moment searching for a word, "Peculuarities of owls."
She caught his eye knowingly. He raised one eyebrow quizzingly.
"Well, come on, Harry. Let's get your trunk upstairs." Hermione tugged on his sleeve, distracting him from Eloise. Each took one side and they carried it to a guest bedroom that was next to Hermione's. "We're next door" she said. "In fact, we'll share a bathroom, so if you want to sneak across to talk, you can anytime. Oh, and put the seat down," she instructed, making Harry laugh. "I mean it, Harry. If you don't put the seat down, Crookshanks will drink from the toilet. Even I put the seat down."
His bed was covered with a hunter green and navy blue comforter in the same geometric design as the curtains.
"Where is the old fleabag anyway?" Harry asked, earning a jab in the ribs.
"Probably curled up on my bed."
"So, is your grandmother.... I mean was her grandmother a witch?"
Hermione nodded. "I had to get it from somewhere," she shrugged. "Gram had always told me fascinating stories about her grandmother. To be honest, I thought she was a bit off her rocker for a while," Hermione laughed.
"What about Julie?" Harry asked.
"She's not really showing any signs of magic yet. It's a shame. I think she'd make a very good witch."
"Not as good as her sister." Harry found that he had placed one arm around Hermione's back. He wanted to be close to her. It was almost like he wanted to make sure she was real. Amid the swirling images of Sirius's death, there were always images of Hermione lying motionless on the floor. Again, his fault. His stupidity. He could have lost everyone that meant anything to him that night. And he was realizing just how high Hermione was on that list.
Hermione noticed that he had his arm around her. How could she not? But it was so comfortable. It felt so right. Somewhere inside she told herself that she should be nervous and uncomfortable like she was when Krum touched her like that. But it was the farthest thing from the way she felt. Something about Harry's touch was peaceful. It was right. It fit.
"We should go down and get ready for dinner. I'm sure Gram cooked already."