Heat Wave

Heat Wave

By Anne U

Written for the Harry/Hermione Ficathon, http://www.livejournal.com/community/hphg_ficathon

Challenge: Post-Hogwarts -- Harry and Hermione move in together as the next step in their relationship.
Summary: It’s early August 2003, shortly after Harry’s 23^rd birthday. Just as Harry and Hermione have moved in together as lovers, Great Britain suffers through a long and ugly heat wave that puts a crimp in their love life. See them uncrimp it.

Genre: Smuff (smutty fluff, PWP).

Warning: Sex.
Other ships: None

Rating: NC-17
Notes: Thanks to Apolla for the basic premise, abigail89 for the first line, and abigail89, M. Potter and mollymoon for beta-reading this. Approximately 5,500 words.

"God, it’s bloody hot…"

Hermione looked over her shoulder in the direction of the voice. "You noticed," she smirked, fanning herself with a copy of The Daily Mail she’d found on the roof. "What was your first hint – the power outage today or the fact I’ve been sweating buckets the past week?"

From the shadows near the fire escape, Harry crossed the roof and stood in front of Hermione, looking almost as hot and tired as she felt. His black hair was clumped with sweat, which trickled down his forehead then rolled slowly along his right cheek. The sleeveless t-shirt he’d changed into after work clung to his broad, lean chest and poked raggedly out from the top of his dock pants. Incongruously, he held a bucket of ice in one hand. The long, slim neck of a bottle jutted up from the bucket; condensation on the bottleneck glimmered in the pale light of the quarter moon.

She looked askance at him. "What’s this?"

"Chateau Margaux, 1979. I found it in my parents’ vault the last time I went to Gringotts." Harry pulled up a lawn chair next to hers and sat down, placing the bucket gingerly between them.

"That’s… really nice," she said, her face softening. "I’ve heard that’s a very good wine."

"I’ve heard that, too. You can consider it a peace offering if you want," he said, opening the bottle with a corkscrew that appeared out of nowhere. Putting the cork aside, he set the bottle gently next to his chair then got up and walked around the roof slowly. Finally finding what he wanted, he picked up two small objects – rocks? – then drew his wand. A pair of tulip-shaped wine glasses suddenly appeared in his hand.

Hermione smiled. He was going to so much trouble to make up for their spat. Perhaps moving in together as lovers would work out after all.

Harry walked back toward her, picked up the bottle then carefully poured equal amounts of red wine into the two glasses and set them aside on the parapet. "We’ll just let that breathe a bit. I don’t think we need to worry about any wind blowing them over."

"I think not. I don’t believe we’ve had a breeze for at least a week. This has been the hottest summer I can ever remember," she groused, wiping her brow with the back of her hand.

"The announcer on the Wizarding Wireless Network said it was 35 degrees Celsius in London today," he sympathized.

"This bloody heat wave is making me crazy," she moaned. "I haven’t had a decent night’s sleep since we moved in here last week."

"I know, sweetheart. You’ve been thrashing around next to me like a bludger every night. I wish I could make things better." Taking her hand, he kissed her palm. It was difficult to stay angry with him when he poured on the charm like this. Not that he even knew he was pouring on the charm; he was simply being Harry.

"Effing power outage," Hermione muttered. "Effing Muggle flat. Effing stupid me for talking you into moving into this place." She sighed heavily and leaned back in her chair, her eyelids wavering from exhaustion.

Leaning toward her, Harry pushed a strand of matted hair behind her ear. "Don’t ever call yourself stupid, Hermione. You’re the smartest witch I’ve ever known," he said, cupping her cheek in his hand. "None of this is your fault. This heat wave has been bloody awful and the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts office is taking its sweet time signing those papers. I guess not even Mr. Weasley can speed things up for us."

"We asked for permission to do cooling charms here at least a month ago," she frowned. "I don’t understand why we haven’t heard from the Ministry yet."

"I bet the wankers lost the bloody forms," Harry sneered. "They’ll probably find them during Christmas holidays."

"Or not," she chimed in. At least the heat hadn’t ruined his sense of humor.

"More likely not," he snorted. "But, not to worry. I really do like living here. Our neighbors seem nice enough."

"Well, most of them," Hermione interjected, thinking of Mrs. Spinney in 7B, who seemed to spend a lot of time poking around the hallways with her bulldog in tow. She was a tall, slim older woman who seemed a bit too interested in her neighbors' lives. A few days ago Harry told Hermione that Mrs. Spinney reminded him of his Aunt Petunia, while her dog reminded him of his Aunt Marge's dog Ripper. That was when Hermione decided that the less she saw of Mrs. Spinney, the better.

"Yeah, most of them," Harry nodded, not needing an explanation to know who she was talking about. "Anyway, you did a great job finding this flat, Hermione. This really is a nice apartment building. So what about the power outage? The power’s only been off one day. The things that still work in our flat are actually working pretty well, and the things that aren’t working we’ve been able to get around with a spot of magic," he smiled, pausing to glance at the ice bucket.

"Today has really been more of an inconvenience than anything," he continued. "I guess it hasn’t seemed too bad to me. After all, I grew up in a cupboard under the stairs, so this place seems like a palace compared to that. But you know, I wouldn’t mind living in a cave if it meant living with you."

Her mouth suddenly dry, Hermione felt her face flush in a way that had nothing to do with the heat. Although she and Harry had been a couple for seven months, she still marveled at the depth of his feelings for her. She opened her mouth to reply to him, but all that came out was a soft, squeaky "Me too."

Harry’s eyes searched her face. "Are we okay now? Am I forgiven?"

She searched his face too, looking for any sign of insincerity. Instead she found only the green eyes she’d lost herself in twelve years ago, the strong, proud nose that nuzzled her just so beneath her left earlobe, the full soft mouth that so often snogged her senseless before working its magic elsewhere on her body.

"Yes, you’re forgiven. It was a stupid spat anyway." She looked up at him again, unable to resist a tiny grin. "Remind me never to move in with you again in the middle of a heat wave, Furnace Boy. I don’t know what’s hotter, the air temperature or your body."

He cocked an eyebrow. "Well, I guess we could make the bed bigger so you don’t have to sleep so close to me. Maybe our king-sized bed isn’t really big enough for our… activities," he smirked. Rising from his chair, he held out his hand to her.

"There’s not a bed in Britain that’s big enough for our nocturnal activities, Harry," she smirked back, taking his hand and letting him pull her into his arms. His hands roamed down her cutoff jeans. As he felt the curve of her bottom, his fingers hooked just below her buttocks and his arms pulled her closer until she could feel how much he wanted her.

"Not that we’re going to do that again anytime soon," she added quickly, trying to stifle what was obviously on his mind.

"We’re not?" Harry asked as his hands moved up her backside then slid under her t-shirt, where they felt hot against her bare skin.

"No," Hermione insisted. "I’m not feeling very sexy these days. It’s too hot and I’ve gotten so little sleep the past week, I’m just completely knackered. When this heat wave breaks, I’m sure I’ll feel differently, but right now I’m just not in the mood." Trying to drive her point home, she twisted out of reach. Harry pulled her back to him, but she frowned and pulled away again.

"I’m sorry, Harry. I’m just not up to it tonight," she said, moving to the parapet and picking up a wine glass. As she sipped her wine she looked out over the carpet of lights that defined London at night. A moment later, she felt Harry mould his body to her back. Wrapping his arms around her middle, he slowly trailed kisses from her right shoulder up to her earlobe.

"Please, Hermione," he implored her, his voice low and urgent. "It’s been a whole week. We haven’t made love since my birthday. I miss you. I need you. I need to make love to you."

As Harry paused, his breath played on her ear, sending shivers through her body. Hermione leaned back against him, allowing his hands to roam over her abdomen. When he started to cup her breasts and lick her earlobe, Hermione could feel his desire for her melting what was left of her resolve. She turned and put her arms around his neck.

"Okay…but you’d better make it worth my while," she teased. "How about some romance before the sex?"

"I think I can arrange that," he whispered, his breath hot in her ear. "Dance with me in the moonlight?"

"Here?" she fretted. "Now? What if one of our neighbors comes up on the roof?"

"Well, they’ll just think we’re a young couple in love taking refuge from the heat inside our flat. We are that, aren’t we?"

She couldn’t help smiling at him. He knew her so well he could almost anticipate her objections. "Yes, indeed. We’re definitely a young couple in love," she agreed, leaning up toward his face and kissing him sweetly.

"I don’t think we’ll need this anymore," Harry said, then transfigured his lawn chair into a wireless box. He twisted the knob and out came the voice of Celestina Warbeck singing a plaintive love song. Pulling Hermione closer, he wrapped his arms around her waist and buried his face in her hair as they swayed to the music. They lingered in each other’s arms for a few minutes, Harry’s hands moving up and down her back then under her t-shirt. His hands found her breasts again and his thumbs flicked over her nipples, sending little waves of pleasure through her body.

"Keep doing that and I might have to do something more interesting to you," she said with a devilish smile.

"Me first," he breathed as his lips descended on hers, soft and seeking at first, then firmer and demanding until he finally slipped his tongue between her lips. Her own tongue slid over and around his, finding the spot in his mouth that always made him moan. This time was no exception, and Harry responded by digging his hands in her hair and pulling her more firmly to him so that his desire for her was absolutely clear.

"Do the charm now, Hermione," he whispered, releasing his hold on her. Shadows played on his face so that all she could see clearly were his green eyes, bright with lust and longing. Pulling her wand from the back pocket of her cutoffs, Hermione tapped her abdomen and muttered the contraceptive charm.

"Now what?" she smiled sweetly, pretending to have forgotten what was on his mind.

"Now this," Harry grinned and pointed his wand about two meters behind Hermione. Turning to see what he had conjured, she discovered a gigantic four-poster bed. Scarlet silk sheets piped with gold covered the plump mattress and matching pillows, while gossamer scarlet drapes hung on all four sides.

Examining the bed carefully, Hermione walked around it, put her hands over her mouth, looked Harry in the eye and burst out laughing.

Harry cocked his head and frowned. "A bit much?"

"You could say that," she giggled.

"Sorry," he smirked. "Couldn’t resist showing off." With a wave of his wand the overstuffed four-poster disappeared. In its place Hermione found the long, low, undulating profile of a waterbed.

"Well," she raised an eyebrow, "it is a very nice waterbed, and I have always wanted a waterbed. But I think I’d enjoy it more in our bedroom, away from our nosy neighbors."

Despite a glimmer of disappointment on his face, Harry would not give up. "But that’s the whole point of being up on the roof, isn’t it?" he insisted. "To get out of that damned hot bedroom where you can’t sleep." Taking Hermione’s right hand in his left, Harry sat her down on the edge of the waterbed, removed her sandals then kicked off his own shoes and sat next to her. "Please, Hermione, let’s stay here. We’ll be fine up here, I promise."

The sight of the scar spelling "I must not tell lies" on his hand caught Hermione short. I’ve trusted him with my life for twelve years, she decided. I should trust that this one night will work out too.

"Okay. We’ll stay up here."

"Now where were we?" he mumbled into her neck, trailing kisses up to her jaw line as he laid her down on the waterbed. His lips were firm and insistent, suckling her ever so briefly with each caress, and each touch of his lips on her skin left Hermione panting and wanting more. But as the familiar ache inside her grew, so did her anxiety.

"Harry… I can’t do this out in the open. What if someone comes up on the roof and sees us?"

Harry pulled his lips off her neck and leaned up on one elbow.

"Don't worry about that," he reassured her, his lips curling in a wicked grin. "I've got it all figured out."

His devious tone worried her. "Harry Potter, what are you planning to do?"

"Do you trust me, Hermione?"

She didn't have to think on it. "Yes."

"Then lie back and let me take care of everything. Tonight I'm going to make love to you right here under the stars, and I'll make sure you're cool enough to get a good night's sleep. And nobody will even know we're here."

As she watched the canopy of stars twinkling overhead through the shimmering night air, Hermione tried to let the coolness of the waterbed relax her mind and body. She wanted nothing more than a good night's sleep, but she also wanted to feel Harry work his own special magic on her. She missed the feel of his breath, his tongue, his skin, every bit of him that made her moan every time he touched her. She missed the feel of him inside her, the way he filled her up until she thought her brain would explode, how he slid and pushed into her, how he rocked and pounded and teased her until she wanted to cry for mercy then came at her again until she lay there boneless and panting. God, it was bloody hot, but thinking about what Harry could do to her, had already done to her so many times, made Hermione slick with desire for him. That made her decision for her.

"Hermione? You still with me?" He leaned over and kissed her hotly, probably to make sure she hadn’t forgotten him during the long silence. Pulling him closer to her, she grabbed his zipper and started tugging it down. Harry laughed, somewhere between a chuckle and a growl, then grabbed both her hands and pulled them up over her head. "First I’m going to undress you. Then we’ll get to play."

He pulled her t-shirt up over her head then tossed it along the edge of the waterbed. Half-naked in the humid night air, Hermione could feel her nipples harden as she reached up and pulled Harry’s t-shirt over his head.

Harry had conjured the waterbed in a dark, out-of-the-way area of the roof, but it was a cloudless night with just enough moonlight so that anyone could discern two naked bodies thrashing in ecstasy. "Lie on top of me, Harry," Hermione said urgently. "If someone happens to come up on the roof, I don’t want them to see me like this." He obliged, covering her with his body and kissing her languidly while his left hand wandered south and undid the button and zipper of her cutoffs. When he slipped his hand inside her knickers and started stroking her clit, Hermione yelped.

"God, Harry, it’s…bloody hot. If this is…how you’re trying…to cool me down," she breathed, licking his nipple, "you’re doing a…really bad…job of it."

"Bloody hell," he rasped, lowering his head and taking her breast in his mouth, "I guess I…need to work on that…don’t I?" Leaning away from her slightly, he stopped stroking her for a moment then shifted his weight and drew his wand from his back pocket with his other hand. "I guess I’d better… do what I was planning…to do… just a bit sooner…than I’d planned. Trust me?"

Hermione was too busy arching up to meet his hand to worry much about why Harry was asking, again, if she trusted him. "Yesyesyes, just don’t take your hand away. And put your mouth back where it was," she murmured, shoving her hand down his trousers until she found his erection.

"Ahhh hell," he growled, illustrating the "nip" in nipple, "how am I going to do the charm with you giving me a handjob?"

"I don’t give a damn how you do it, Harry, but do something soon or you’re going to burn me up," she moaned, running her thumb up and down the underside of his cock.

"Merlin, I hope we don’t…get splinched or something…when I do this," he muttered, grinding against her hand.

"Do what?" she panted.

"I’m going to Disillusion you… and me…and the waterbed."

When she realized what he meant her eyes went wide, but before she could respond, Harry whispered the Disillusionment charm and waved his wand over both their heads. Hermione suddenly felt like Harry had taken an egg from the fridge and cracked it over her head. As her skin cooled off and her blood cooled down from fevered to a more normal temperature, she looked up at Harry and realized he wasn’t there anymore. At least she couldn’t see him anymore – but she could feel him hovering above her. Then his cock pulled away from her hand and he moved off to the side, causing the waterbed to swell and roll.

A minute or so later he returned, and she could feel him tugging at her cutoffs, pulling them down and off her legs. Then his fingers hooked through the elastic of her knickers and pulled them down and off as well. Certain she would die of embarrassment, Hermione raised her arm to cover her face – and realized that she couldn’t see her own body either. Her arm blended in with the dark shadows of the building parapet, while her hand – and Harry’s body – blended in with the night sky. The situation was at once wildly disorienting and oddly liberating.

"Harry… this is so very strange," she marveled as his naked thighs straddled her hips. "I can feel you and touch you. I can smell you and hear you. But I can’t see you at all. It’s almost as if I’ve been blindfolded, or like we’re making love in murky water, or wearing masks."

"Is that going to be a problem?" he asked, leaning over and pulling her up until she was leaning on her elbows and could feel his cock pulsing between her breasts.

"Unnnh, I don’t think so… but it is kind of…kinky," she grinned, finding her breasts and pushing them together while Harry rubbed his cock between them. As she found his tip and rubbed slow circles over and around it, he gasped in pleasure.

"I can tell… you’re getting the hang…of this invisible-sex business. Hear me…feel me…touch me…heal me," he sang in a gutteral monotone under his breath. Hermione smiled again; Harry never had sung very well, but for some odd reason he often managed to bring some kind of old rock-music lyrics into their lovemaking and mangle them in the process. This version, however, seemed intentional. "And now… please, Hermione…open your mouth and taste me."

Holding onto his cock, she brought it up to her mouth, kissed the slit at the tip and began licking lacy patterns up and down and around the shaft. When she licked the corded vein on the underside and took him in her mouth, Harry’s thighs clenched around her. His hands fisted her hair and a deep, feral rumble left his throat. After she’d continued for a few minutes, she could feel his body thrumming as if he were about to come, but instead of riding it out, he suddenly withdrew and leaned his arse back onto her stomach.

Then Harry’s right leg brushed her abdomen as he seemed to reposition himself. His chest touched her breasts and his cock pressed against her hip while his tongue sought and found her own. As she lay back and wrapped her arms around his shoulders, trying to pull him closer to her, his right hand found its way back to her clit, which he began to stroke slowly. As he continued kissing and stroking her, the fingers of his left hand twined in her hair while two fingers of his right hand suddenly slid inside her and began to plumb her depths.

"Even if I can’t see you… you haven’t lost your magic touch," she hissed, arching her back as she pushed hard against his hand. Just as she thought she would succumb to a wave of bliss, Harry withdrew his fingers and slid further down her body, pushing her knees up and apart until her feet were flat on the waterbed, heels outside her hips. Almost before she could miss his fingers, his mouth took their place, his talented tongue thrusting in time with her as she rolled her hips while his hands held her down to the bed. His messy hair flopped onto her abdomen as his nose, lips and tongue explored her folds thoroughly. Once again, he brought her almost to the edge, only to back off just as she was about to come.

"Harry… please," she moaned. "I need only… a few seconds more…"

"So do I," he huffed in a deep, raspy voice. "Well…maybe just a few minutes more…" Then his face was no longer between her legs; a few seconds later, his lips were on hers again, filling Hermione’s mouth with the taste of herself, while his cock pressed insistently at her entrance.

"I can’t see your face," he whispered, nibbling her earlobe, "so you’ll have to tell me if you’re ready."

"Do it now, Harry," she implored, tweaking his nipple. "I want you inside me this minute or I might hex you. Don’t forget, I did better than you in Charms." A few seconds later, he cut off her cheeky grin with another long, deep kiss that almost distracted her while he finally thrust into her.

There. That was what she wanted, what she needed, what she couldn’t believe she’d gone a whole week without -- every inch of Harry’s cock buried inside her, filling her up until she thought her brain would explode, sliding and pushing into her, rocking and pounding and teasing her until she wanted to cry for mercy, then retreating and returning again and again and again until finally she fell over the edge, crying out his name. As she lay there boneless and panting, utterly spent and more in love with him than she’d ever been, she felt him thrumming inside her until his own orgasm shook him and made her come again.

"Loveyou."

"Loveyoutoo." Same as we ever were, she mused, her breath beginning to return to normal.

A short while later, Hermione lay beneath Harry, their limbs still tangled together, their skin sticky with sex yet remarkably cool and not at all sweaty. The Disillusionment charm had done that part of its job well; it had kept both of them cool enough so they could make love comfortably despite the insane heat. Now the charm would have to continue to make them difficult to see, at least for a few hours, because they were both still naked and Harry was snoring quietly, lost in the sleep of sexual satisfaction. Wrapped in her lover’s arms and feeling very satisfied herself, Hermione closed her eyes and fell deeply asleep for the first time since she and Harry had moved in together a week earlier.

^*^*^*^

"Harry." Nothing. No response.

"Harry. Wake up." Hermione nudged him, hoping the first rays of dawn would wake him soon. She figured she’d slept about five hours, but it was five solid hours of sleep, which was a lot longer stretch than she’d had in over a week, and she was deliriously happy for it. She also needed to pee badly, and his left hip and leg were pinning her to the waterbed. So unless she could roll him off her soon so that she could run down to their flat and use the loo, she was afraid she would mess up their tryst as well as the waterbed.

"Wake up, Harry. Move your leg off me. I have to get up and pee," she said, prodding him where she thought his ribs ought to be. It was difficult to tell in the dawn’s light because Harry had fallen asleep soon after he climaxed, so the Disillusionment charm was still in force and both she and Harry were still more or less invisible, their bodies blending into their surroundings like chameleons.

"Hnnnh," he mumbled, obviously still mostly asleep. Suddenly she felt his head snap up from where it had lain next to hers all night. "Wha—? Where are you? Where are we?"

"We’re up on the roof, Harry. We made love last night on a waterbed up on the roof." His silence suggested that, while he couldn’t see her, he had decided she was completely barmy. "I’m not joking, Harry. Don’t you remember? Our flat was insanely hot, so you Disillusioned both of us so we could make love up here instead. We’re naked, lying on a waterbed up on the roof. And if I’m feeling what I think I’m feeling, you’re hard again. As usual." She couldn’t resist grinning.

"Merlin!" he hissed, rolling over a bit in an effort to hide his erection, as though anyone else could see it.

"Harry, we’re still mostly invisible. I think. But I need to get up and pee. Don’t take the charm off yet – we can run downstairs to our flat and remove the charm there. Okay?"

His lips brushed hers and as he shifted away from her, his hand began to skim down the side of her body. "Okay, time to get up." Relieved he was finally awake and conscious, Hermione moved to get off the waterbed. Just as she swung her feet over the edge, a sound from the other side of the roof caught her attention.

A dog was barking near the fire escape, and a tall thin woman stood behind the dog, holding the leash she’d detached from his collar.

"Bugger!" Hermione hissed. "It’s Mrs. Spinney and her dog. What in blazes are they doing up on the roof?"

"God, I hope she didn’t bring that bulldog up here to pee," Harry griped in a low whisper. "Just stay still, don’t breathe too loud and maybe they’ll go away." Wrapping his arm around Hermione’s waist, he pulled her back down onto the waterbed as if to protect her. They lay spooned together for a few minutes while their neighbor and her dog took a leisurely walk around the roof. But just when Hermione thought Mrs. Spinney was about to go downstairs, the dog began to bark again – and his eyes seemed focused on the waterbed.

"He’s looking right at us," Hermione whispered, her eyes widening. The dog moved toward them, his nose snuffling near the roof as he padded along its rough surface.

"Winston, whatever are you on about?" Mrs. Spinney called to the bulldog. Winston snuffled further, finally stopping less than a meter from the waterbed. Hermione lay still, trying to hold her breath. Harry remained pressed against her back, no longer hard and barely breathing.

A quizzical look crossed Mrs. Spinney’s face as she gazed down at the roof. "A pair of sandals and a pair of trainers, side by side. Apparently belonging to different people. And by the looks of them, I’d bet the sandals belong to a woman and the trainers belong to a man."

The woman went silent, appearing to mull over the possible explanations. She then looked past the bed and a different puzzled look spread on her face. "And a pile of clothing too. Looks like a young man’s clothes and a young woman’s." Realizing the older woman was looking directly over her and Harry, Hermione thought her own brain would explode from anxiety. Harry’s body was tensed behind hers. Hermione just hoped Mrs. Spinney didn’t notice their wands, which had fallen onto the roof during the night.

Suddenly the older woman bent down and attached the leash to the dog’s collar. "I think we’re done up here, Winston," she said a bit too loudly but with an odd smile on her face. "Let’s just leave everything where we found it. I’m sure whoever owns these things will come back for them. Someone must’ve done something up here on a lark last night." She turned and pulled Winston along behind her, crossed the roof then disappeared into the fire escape.

Hermione felt Harry’s body go slack behind hers. "Merlin’s ghost," he muttered, "that was close."

"Let’s take our wands and get out of here before somebody else comes up and really finds us," Hermione urged, pulling Harry off the bed then grabbing both their wands. "We can come back for our stuff later." They walked gingerly across the roof, which was rough but not yet blisteringly hot, then sneaked into the fire escape, still shuddering from their close call.

^*^*^*^*^

Back in their own seventh-storey flat, necessities taken care of, Hermione pulled her dressing gown around her body as she padded into the kitchen to get some water. Harry sat at the table in his own dressing gown, a big smile on his face.

"Notice anything different?"

"You’re not naked?"

He cocked an eyebrow at her and grinned cheekily. "No, silly, look up at the ceiling. What do you see?"

She looked up at the ceiling and for a moment thought she was staring into the sun. "The lights are back on! We’ve got electricity again!" She rushed over to the refrigerator and yanked the door open. Wonderful, blessedly cold air poured out at her. "Our fridge is back! Now if we could only stand inside the fridge all day to keep cool." She fanned cool air onto herself for a moment, then remembered all the food melting inside the fridge and quickly closed the door.

"Too bad it’s Saturday or we could go in to work to keep cool," Harry mused as he filled the coffee maker with ground coffee beans. Just as he started pouring some water into the coffee maker, a large brown owl with a green collar whooshed into the kitchen, barely missing Harry’s head. Hermione caught the owl, removed a parchment scroll from its talons and dropped a sickle into the owl’s pouch.

"It’s a letter from the Ministry," she said, breaking the seal and unrolling the parchment. As she scanned the contents, she smiled broadly. "Wonderful news! We’ve finally got permission to do cooling charms!" She could feel herself relaxing, pleased with the knowledge that they wouldn’t have to live in an oven anymore. Scanning further down the letter, she stopped and reread the P.S. at the bottom. Then she threw her head back and laughed. Harry crossed over the kitchen, took her in his arms and spun her around.

"Okay, what’s so funny?" he chuckled. Hermione unrolled the parchment and pointed to what had set her off.

"P.S. We hope you’ll meet and get to know Mrs. Elvira Spinney in Apartment 7B. She was a good friend of Professor Minerva McGonagall while they were both at Hogwarts. She retired from the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office in 1993."

"Oh God, she knows McGonagall -- and Arthur Weasley too! She’s probably heard about what happened to the Ford Anglia…" Harry muttered as Hermione used her hand to stifle another laugh.

A few seconds later, there was small "pop" in the kitchen, and what appeared made both of them laugh. It was a cardboard box containing all the clothing and shoes they’d left on the roof. Attached to the box was a small note in a flowery script:

"I thought you might be needing these. Please visit me for tea today; I think you know where I live. Winston will be glad to see you too. Elvira Spinney"

^*^*^*^ The End ^*^*^*^