Hell and Happiness

A/N: This is a fic of Harry's 6^th year. It will have a lot of twists and turns and bumps along the way, so hold on tight! This also contains a lot of fluff and mush, you are warned!

Disclaimer: The characters you recognize belong to JKR, but Emili belongs to me!

Rated PG-13 for slight language and violence later on, along with some slightly sexual scenes.

Chapter One: Privet Drive

Harry woke in a cold sweat. There was a sickening feeling in his stomach and a searing pain across his forehead. That only meant one thing, and it was not good. Harry buried his head in his hands. He didn't want it to be real; it couldn't be real. It was though. A whole muggle family was now dead, along with two people from the order that Harry didn't know. He sighed and pulled his hands though his unruly hair. He was so sick of having these visions. Voldemort hadn't blocked Harry out totally, he just simply chose the visions he wanted Harry to see. Voldemort used the connection as a way of torturing Harry, and so far it was working. There was hardly a night when Harry didn't have a dream about a muggle dying, and then waking up feeling sick to his stomach. It was apart of his daily routine now. It didn't take Harry long to figure out what Voldemort was up to, he could only see and feel the most gruesome and sickening things that Voldemort would witness. After Harry had figured this out, he had worked harder than ever to try and master Occlumency, but he hadn't succeeded. Every night Harry would clear his mind to the best of his abilities, but Voldemort was still able to break through.

Harry was extremely frustrated. Once again, he was left with the bare minimum facts, and hardly any contact with the rest of the wizarding world. The only letter he had received so far was from his best friend. Hermione had written a short and to the point letter, saying that she couldn't say much, but she hoped he was well and safe, and she would get him out of here shortly. She had said that she was still with her parents, so that made Harry feel slightly better. At least she wasn't with Ron. Harry couldn't bear another summer where his two best friends are together and he couldn't be with them. Especially when his best friend likes the girl he likes.

Harry hadn't even known he'd really liked her until just recently. He couldn't stop thinking about her, and it was driving him mad. He didn't even think about Cho this much when he had liked her. Harry had constantly replayed every conversation in his head, every smile that Hermione gave him, and all the times that she had been there for him. The way she twirled her hair when she was reading, the way her eyebrows went together when she was arguing with Ron, the way she spoke soft when Harry was in a bad mood, and these were only some of the things Harry had been thinking about.

Harry picked his glasses up off the nightstand and put them on. The sun was lightly shining through the window, dancing on his face, revealing early morning. Harry closed his eyes, letting the warmth soak in to his skin. A shadow was cast over his face, and Harry opened his eyes. There was a beautiful snowy owl flying across the skyline. It soared gracefully, no cares in the world. It was dropping, altitude equaling the height of Harry's window.

“Hello, Hedwig,” Harry said as she flew effortlessly through his window, landing on his outstretched arm. He stroked her head for a little bit, before he realized there was a piece of parchment attached to her leg. He pulled it off and set her in her cage. Harry ripped the letter open and immediately recognized the curvy handwriting.

Hey Harry!

I don't know if you've heard, but there have been more muggle attacks and two more Order members were killed. Dumbledore insists we both go to headquarters at once to ensure our safety. He wants us to go to the Burrow first though, just to make sure we are safe. We'll pick you up tomorrow morning at 11, so have your things packed and ready to go!

See you soon!

Love, Hermione

Harry's face broke in to a smile. Not only had he heard from someone, he got to leave the next morning. He went to his closet and pulled out a pair of pants and a shirt. He changed quickly and headed down the stairs to the kitchen. His uncle Vernon was sitting at the table, reading the morning newspaper. His aunt Petunia was standing at the stove, cooking breakfast. Ever since the day at Kings Cross at the end of the school year, the Dursley's have hardly spoken two words to him. Harry was fine with that; he liked the silence better than the Dursley's screaming at him all the time.

Dudley kept with the same routine every day. He would leave in the morning, return late at night. Harry knew just where he went too. Dudley hadn't given up boxing yet. Every day he prowled the streets with the stupid blokes he called friends, searching for someone smaller than him so he could beat them up. It was pathetic, really. The times Harry had been down sitting in the park, he had seen them walk past, bragging about their latest outgoing. Once he had even encountered a young boy coming and sitting down next to him on the swing set, crying. Harry could remember the situation perfectly.

It was two days into summer.. Harry was already fed up with being trapped inside the Dursley's. He came to the spot he had been the previous year, just before the Dementors had come; when Sirius was still alive. It had only been a couple of weeks since his godfather's death, and he still hadn't been able to cope with it. He had come to the spot he knew all too well. Dudley and his gang had just walked by, laughing and talking, much like they had the previous year. It was almost eerie, the resemblance. The only difference was that Dudley was fatter, and Harry wasn't angry. It was so weird to think that just one year ago, Harry had been so angry over nothing. Now, he just felt empty. He almost wished the anger would return, envelope him, take over. It would be something; something to fill the void and make him whole.

Harry had been so lost in his thoughts, he hardly noticed a boy sitting on the swing next to him. Harry only looked up when the boy let out a sniff. Harry noticed the boy was pretty bloodied up, probably the work of Dudley.

“Are you okay?” Harry asked the boy. The boy looked at him and shook his head to the side. Harry felt his heart fall.

“Did a group of big stupid gits do this to you?” Harry asked him, but he already knew the answer. The boy nodded slightly, and Harry sighed. When would they stop? Dudley and his cronies think they are so much better than everyone else. A tear escaped the young boy's eye.

“Oh, don't let them get to you. They think they are so much better than everyone else, just because they have more muscle than brain.” The boy let out a little laugh. Harry became curious of this small boy.

“By the way, what is your name?” Harry asked him. The boy wiped his cheek and looked at Harry.

“Mark,” the boy replied softly, “Mark Evans.” Harry looked at him for a moment, not sure if the words sunk in right.

“Evans?” Harry asked, needing to make sure. The boy nodded. “I didn't know there were any Evans in this area.” Harry said, a confused look forming on his face.

“That's because there aren't. I'm adopted, and my parents thought it would be best if I kept my real name.” The boy answered, looking at Harry curiously. Of course! Why hadn't he thought of it before? Dudley had beaten up a Mark Evans last year, but Harry had never made the connection, nor did he think twice about it. How in the world could he be related to him? Was he even related to him? Harry thought his mother only had the one sister, unless this boy next to him was a distant relative of some sort. It was possible; crazy, but certainly possible. Harry sat pondering this for a few moments, until the boy disturbed his thoughts.

“Well, it's getting dark. I should be getting home,” Mark said, standing up. Harry nodded and stood up also.

“By the way, if that stupid git I call a cousin ever wants to beat you up again, just tell him that he'll have to answer to dear ole Harry first,” Harry told Mark, smiling. The boy smiled and turned to walk away. Harry turned to head back to Privet Drive, when a voice called out to him.

“Thanks, Harry,” the boy said to him. Harry turned around, but Mark was already on his way to his own house. Harry smiled to himself as he made his way back to the Dursley's.

“What the blazes are you smiling about?” Vernon asked, scowling at him. It was only then he realized he was sitting down with a plate of food in front of him.

“Oh, just that I get to leave tomorrow. My friend is picking me up at 11 o'clock.” Harry replied, picking up his fork, still smiling. 3 … 2 … 1 …

“I WILL NOT HAVE SOME CRACKPOT FREAKS-“ Harry just laughed. His uncle was only slightly predictable.

“Relax!” Harry practically yelled, interrupting his uncle. “Her parents are Muggles, err, they don't have magic in them.” Vernon's face softened slightly.

“Oh, well, what do they do for a living then?” he asked, a hint of superiority lingering in his voice.

“They are both dentists” Harry replied, stabbing a glob of eggs with his fork. His uncle was quiet after that, but there was a small smirk plastered on his face. They all ate their breakfast in silence. After Harry finished eating, he went upstairs to pack. Most of his school things were still packed, minus the Muggle clothes he had been wearing and a few assorted school books. Harry spent most of the afternoon collecting and organizing his things. He had come across his Firebolt, but had tried not to think who it was from. Harry packed it inside his trunk, having mixed feelings. Here was an object that brought him so much pain, yet so much joy and freedom. Harry came across the broom repair kit that Hermione had given him. He smiled. She may not like Quidditch, but she was still willing to go out of her way to give him a gift like this. It made him smile wider. There was a knock on his door.

“Come in,” he called, not wanting to take his eyes away from the repair kit.

“It's time for supper, Harry” his aunt said softly. Harry looked at her. Her eyes had a hint of sadness in them. She smiled faintly and turned, leaving the room swiftly. He placed the kit in his trunk and stood up. Harry walked downstairs to where his relatives were eating quietly. He took a seat at the table. There was a plate of food in front of him, but he wasn't all that hungry. He pushed the food around his plate, taking a bite occasionally. Eventually he just excused himself from the table and went back in to his room. Harry walked in and closed the door behind him. He pulled off his shirt and dropped it lazily to the floor. Harry fell on to his bed, not having the energy to undress further. He lay there, staring at the ceiling before he drifted into a dreamless sleep.

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A/N- This chappie just has a lot of fluff in it *grins*

Chapter 2- Can’t Go There

Hermione felt the sun streaming across her face. She smiled and opened her eyes. Today she was picking up Harry, and then they were going to the Burrow. She couldn’t wait to see her two best friends again, but something was holding her back from being down right thrilled. Over the past couple of years, Hermione had gotten the feeling that Ron fancied her. She thought that she had fancied him too, that is until the end of their 5th year. Something about Harry intrigued her. She had always been there for him, no mater what. She always thought it was just because he was her best friend, but she wasn’t so sure of that reason anymore. After their time at the Department of Mysteries, Hermione had been thinking about him constantly. Harry had such a big heart; he would go to all lengths to make sure the person he cared about was safe. It was one of the many things Hermione loved about him.

Love. Now that was a word that frightened the hell out of Hermione. She couldn’t be in love with her best friend. Not Harry Potter. Not the famous Harry Potter that was determined to save the world. Hermione shook her head. It couldn’t be true, but it was. Hermione got out of bed and made her way to the bathroom. She was longing for a nice, long, hot shower so she could sort her thoughts out.

After her shower, she stood in front of the bathroom mirror. She had on a pair of faded hip huggers and a baby pink tee that fit her curves perfectly. Hermione picked up her hair brush and tugged it through her hair. She got an idea. She pulled out the blow drier and a curling iron. She dried her hair, making it wavy and fluffy. Once it was dry, she pulled the curling iron through her hair, straightening the top and the middle sections of her hair, but making her hair curl in slightly at the bottom. She finished and set down the curling iron. She actually looked some what pretty; her hair shaped her face in a way so that it made her high cheek bones appear flawless, and her chocolate brown eyes shone brilliantly. Hermione was glad she didn’t have to straighten her hair the muggle way every day; it had taken her almost 45 minutes to get her hair like this. Hermione had found a much easier spell that she could use once she returned to Hogwarts. She headed back to her room and packed the last of her things in to her trunk. Glancing around, Hermione picked up her trunk and left her room. Her parents were waiting for her in the kitchen. Her father took the trunk from her and took it out to the car.

“Sit down and have some breakfast, dear,” her mother told her. Hermione nodded and grabbed a piece of toast. She took a bite out of it and picked up the morning paper. No strange killings had been reported. Hermione tossed the paper back on the table as her dad walked back through the door.

“Time to go!” He announced. Hermione nodded and shoved the rest of her piece of toast in to her mouth.

“Hermione!” Her mother exclaimed. Hermione blushed and swallowed her toast.

“What?” she asked innocently. Her mother just rolled her eyes. They got in the car and drove off.

A little while later they were driving down Privet Drive. Hermione looked around at all the houses. They all seemed so perfect, it was almost disturbing. Her father pulled in to the driveway of the perfect house with the title ‘4’. So this is where Harry lives; Hermione had never been here before, but already she despised it. Her parents were already half way out of the car, so Hermione opened her door and climbed out. They all walked up to the front door. Her father rang the doorbell. A big man opened the door, who Hermione assumed was Harry’s uncle.

“Welcome” the man said, “Come in!” Hermione followed her parents through the door and in to the living room. Her parents were introducing each other, but she wasn’t paying attention. She was too busy looking at how spotless everything was. Hermione liked to be clean, but this was pushing it.

“… Hermione” her thought were disturbed by hearing her name.

“Huh?” she asked, startled. Her mother chuckled.

“I said, ‘this is our daughter, Hermione.’ Why don’t you go and find Harry and help him with his things?” her mother suggested. Hermione nodded and turned to leave the room, but stopped when she realized she didn’t know where his room as. She turned back around. Harry’s aunt must have also realized this, because she replied before Hermione had a chance to ask.

“Just up the stairs” she said with a faint smile. Hermione returned the smile and left the room. She made her way up the stairs. She came to a room with a dog door installed in it. She assumed this was Harry’s. She knocked softly. When no reply came she knocked harder. Still no reply. Hermione took a breath in and opened the door. It was a small room, with not much in it. Harry was still asleep in his bed. Hermione giggled. She crept over to his bed and pounced on him. She straddled his legs and started tickling him like mad. Harry had jumped when she landed on him, but now he was giggling like a maniac. Once he realized what was going on, he flipped her off of him and started tickling her. She started laughing so hard she couldn’t breathe. Finally he stopped. They both sat there, still giggling.

“I’m so sorry I over-slept, Hermione” Harry breathed, “I guess I should get a shower.” Harry pulled back the covers and got out of bed. It was only after Harry left the room that Hermione noticed she was holding her breath. She let it out slowly, her mind racing. Harry hadn’t been wearing a shirt, revealing very nice stomach and arm muscles. It made Hermione’s heart skip a beat when he pulled back the covers. Hermione lay back, letting her head rest on his pillow. She closed her eyes and took in a deep breath. Harry’s pillow smelled wonderful, it had a trace of shampoo, and a hint of cologne that Hermione loved. She took another breath in, letting the essence of Harry burn in her senses.

***
Harry turned on the water for the shower. He stepped in, and immediately he was surrounded by icy cool water. A shiver ran throughout his nervous system. He let the cold soak in to his skin before turning the tap so it would reach the maximum temperature without scalding his skin. Steam rose up around him, clearing his thoughts. He had just been woken up by Hermione, a pleasant yet startling surprise. The fact of being woken up by being tackled by his best friend wasn’t all that startling; it was the fact that he wanted her to be more than his best friend.

The thought was preposterous; Harry Potter couldn’t be falling for Hermione Granger. Harry leaned his head in to the water, giving his face a hot blow. Harry couldn’t be falling for Hermione, because he knew his best friend was too. It had been obvious for years, especially after their 4th year. The thing that made his heart give a painful throb was that he knew Hermione had feelings for Ron, too. Everything Ron had dished out to her, she had given right back. All the hidden feelings Ron had, Hermione mirrored. Harry tried to block it out for all those years, and if he tried to ignore his feelings much longer, he would burst.

Harry ran his head through the steaming water one last time before turning off his enclosure. He grabbed the towel he had placed on the towel rack prior to his shower and wrapped it around his waist. It was only then he realized he had forgotten to bring a change of clothes with him. His mind had been in such a daze after his and Hermione’s tickle fest that he forgot all about bringing clothes. He made sure the towel was secure around his waist before exiting the bathroom. He walked back to his room. He turned the door handle and pushed the door open slowly, revealing his room. Hermione was laying on his bed with her eyes closed. She looked so peaceful; Harry almost didn’t want to disturb her.

Almost.

***
“Umm … “ a voice said. Hermione’s eyes shot open. Her eyes landed on Harry standing in the doorway. He was wrapped in a towel and he was dripping wet. Her spine went numb, and she lost all ability of comprehensible thought or speech. Harry was blushing slightly, but Hermione couldn’t keep her eyes off of him. He looked so bloody sexy standing there, his tone body shimmering with the condensation lingering on his muscles.

“Do you, erm, mind?” Harry said, stuttering. Hermione let out the breath she hadn’t realized she had been holding. Now embarrassed, she nodded and stood up. She still wasn’t capable of stringing two words together, so she smiled weakly and walked past him, her arm brushing his. A tingle ran down her spine and her heart skipped a beat. She walked out in to the hall and closed the door behind her. She took a step to the side and sank down the wall, coming to rest on the hard floor.

“Oh. My. God.” She breathed. She had to get a hold of herself before she wound up telling Harry her feelings, or worse, she could show him. She had to restrain herself from pulling him in to a kiss, throwing her arms around him and never letting go. It was a thought that scared her, but whenever she thought about it, a stronger feeling came over her. Longing; she longed for Harry more than anything, to just have Harry’s arms wrapped around her, giving her the feeling of security she needed.

Okay, I'm whippin' out the fluff.

Chapter Three-Getting There

Harry pulled clothes out of his closet. He dressed quickly, his mind spinning. He tried to push Hermione out of his mind, but he failed miserably. Harry grabbed Hedwig's cage and his trunk. He dragged them across the room and opened the door. He started to walk out the door, but stopped when he noticed Hermione sitting on the floor. She looked up at him and smiled. He smiled back at her.

“What are you doing?” he asked, dragging his trunk in to the hall and closed his door.

“Oh, err, um, just waiting for you,” she stammered. Harry smiled again.

“Let's go downstairs, I'm ready to get out of this place.” Hermione nodded and stood up. Harry went to grab Hedwig's cage, but Hermione pulled it out of his hands.

“I'll carry this,” she said, smiling at him. He shrugged and picked up his trunk. They made their way down the stairs and in to the living room. Harry's uncle was talking about drills, and the Granger's were smiling kindly. Mr. Granger was staring at Vernon, nodding, while Mrs. Granger inspected the living room. She saw Harry and Hermione enter and her face relaxed visibly.

“Got everything, Harry?” Mrs. Granger asked, smiling genuinely. Mr. Granger looked up at the sound of his wife's voice. When he saw the two standing there, he looked relieved. Harry didn't blame him; his uncle could drag on for hours, guaranteeing boredom with in five minutes.

“Yep, I'm pretty sure,” Harry replied. Mr. Granger walked over and took the trunk from Harry. Aunt Petunia opened the front door, and they all filed out. Mr. Granger dragged Harry's luggage to the back of the car and popped the lock. The trunk of the car opened, and Harry's luggage was placed next to Hermione's. Hermione placed Hedwig's cage in, and Mr. Granger closed the trunk. The Granger's and Harry said good bye to the Dursley's, then climbed in the car. Harry slid in the backseat next to Hermione, while Mr. Granger got in the drivers seat, and Mrs. Granger in the passengers.

“So how has your summer been, Harry?” Hermione asked as they backed out of the driveway.

“Fine, as good of a summer as you can have at the Dursley's I suppose,” Harry replied. “Yours?”

“Oh fine thanks. I finished the essay for potions—well, assuming I'll get in to potions,” Hermione said, her face falling. Harry grabbed her hand on impulse.

“Oh Hermione, of course you'll get in to potions. I'm the one who should be worried,” Harry said, chuckling. Hermione sighed, but said nothing. It was only then Harry realized he was stroking her palm gently. He blushed and pulled his hand away. She gave him an inquisitive look. He blushed deeper and took to staring out the window.

After awhile, Harry found his gave wandering from the countless trees they were passing. His gaze landed on Hermione. She was staring out her own window, obviously lost in thought. She was so beautiful; the afternoon sun brought out the golden highlights in her hair. Her hand made its way to her hair, separating a portion of hair and twirling it around her index finger. Harry smiled. It was one of the many things he loved about her. If he could, he would stare at her forever.

Just then the thought passed through his mind: that may not be possible. Harry tore his eyes away from Hermione, only to stare blankly in to space. That stupid prophecy; it was because of the prophecy, and ONLY the prophecy, that his parents and Sirius were dead, and why he himself may end up dead. Even worse, the people he cared about most could end up dead. Harry's heart gave a painful lurch when he thought about it, namely when his thoughts passed over losing Hermione. The pain must have shown in his features, because just then he felt a hand on top of his. He looked over to see Hermione looking at him curiously, a look of worry in her eyes. Harry smiled weakly at her, then looked out the window. He couldn't stand to look at her, to see her worried about him. She didn't let go of his hand. Instead she stroked it gently. Harry smiled inwardly, ignoring the shiver that ran down his spine.

*

Hermione sat there, stroking Harry's hand. She was only doing it absent-mindedly; she was too busy thinking about what could be bothering Harry. She hated seeing him sad. She loved his smile, when he smiled it lit up the whole room. His smile gave Hermione the hope, the assurance to know it would all be okay in the end. He had been on her mind constantly, and it drove her crazy. She cared about him more than he could ever imagine. She wasn't sure if it was just the way a best friend cared for a best friend anymore.

Just then Harry let go of her hand, and her heart fell. But he picked it back up again, interlocking his fingers in hers. She looked at him and smiled. He was staring out his own window, so she gave his hand a squeeze and looked back out her own window. The surroundings looked familiar, which meant they were nearing the Burrow. Hermione had mixed feelings. On one hand, the Burrow was like her second home. On the other hand, there was Harry. Literally. Arriving at the Burrow would mean letting go of his hand, something she didn't want to do. She also didn't want to face Ron. Hermione sighed and leaned her head against the glass.

*

Harry loved how he could just sit and stare at Hermione and she didn't have a clue. She had just sighed and leaned her head against the window. Something was bothering her, and he didn't know what it was. He gave her hand a gentle squeeze. She looked over at him and smiled. He smiled back. Just then, they pulled in to the driveway of the Burrow. Harry's heart gave a lurch. The car came to a stop, but neither Harry nor Hermione made a move. Harry saw Ron and Mrs. Weasley come out of the front door. Harry and Hermione exchanged glances, unlocked their fingers, and got out of the car. Mrs. Weasley rushed over to Harry and pulled him in to a rib-crushing hug.

“Oh Harry dear, I do hope you've been alright,” Mrs. Weasley said, pulling back. Harry mustered up a smile.

“Oh yes, thanks,” he replied. She smiled and turned to greet the Grangers, and Harry's smile wiped off his face. Truth was, he was miserable. So far he had been able to keep his godfather off his mind, but he knew he couldn't avoid it forever. Harry shook it out of his mind and walked over to where Hermione and Ron were standing. They weren't talking; Hermione was looking at the ground and Ron towards his house.

“Hey Ron,” Harry said uneasily. Ron looked at him and grinned.

“Hey mate, everything good I hope?” Ron asked, nervousness lingering in the question. Why did everyone insist on asking Harry this question? Harry just grinned back and nodded.

“Well, we better get our things out of the car," Harry said to Hermione. She nodded and the three walked to the car. That was when Harry noticed something.

“Hermione, where is Crookshanks?” Harry asked curiously. He immediately knew it was the wrong thing to ask. Her face twisted in pain and her eyes glistened

“The day after we got home, I couldn't find Crookshanks. He didn't show up for three days. The fourth day, my dad came home and broke the news to me. He found him dead, lying in the street.” A tear trickled down Hermione's cheek. Harry took a breath in and pulled Hermione in to an embrace. She sobbed in to his chest. He wrapped his arms tightly around her. She felt so small in his arms. He closed his eyes, fighting back the tears that were threatening his eyelids. It wasn't really the fact of Crookshanks being dead, it was Hermione crying in his arms that made all of his emotions surface. Harry pinched his eyes closed, then opened them. Fighting the urge to keep Hermione against him all day, he pulled her back and looked in to her bloodshot eyes. He brought his hand up to her face and used his thumb to wipe her tears away from her cheeks.

“Are you okay?” he asked her gently. She looked in to his eyes and nodded. He kissed her forehead and let go of her. He realized that everyone was looking at them, and he felt himself blush. He walked over to the car and pulled his trunk and Hedwig's cage out, placing them on the ground. Ron walked over and picked up Harry's trunk, while Harry pulled Hermione's out. They dragged the luggage in to the house and up the stairs to the appropriate bedrooms. Harry set Hermione's trunk down in the room her and Ginny shared, then took Hedwig's cage from Hermione. He smiled slightly, then made his way to his room he shared with Ron. Harry was surprised to see Ron sitting on his bed, staring at his hands, which were rested in his lap. Harry walked in and placed Hedwig's cage on the dresser.

“Err, Ron? Are you okay?” Harry asked gently, walking over and sitting down on the bed across from Ron.

“Oh yeah, everything's fine,” Ron said dully, not looking up. Harry frowned.

“Doesn't seem fine. You wanna tell me what's really wrong?” Harry asked, trying to get Ron to crack.

“Look Harry, I don't want to talk about it, okay?” Ron said bitterly, finally looking up. Harry wasn't sure of the look in Ron's eyes, but it was enough to tell Harry not to say anything more. He shook his head and stood up. He walked back downstairs to say good bye to the Grangers.

*

After Harry dropped her trunk off, Hermione had gone back outside to say goodbye to her parents. They were still chatting with Mrs. Weasley.

“…We really must be going, just say good bye to … Hermione!” her mother exclaimed, surprised by her daughters presence. Hermione smiled.

“Hi mom. Are you guys leaving now?” she asked.

“Yes, we were just waiting to say good bye,” her mother said, smiling back. Tears started welling up in her mother's eyes, jut like every other time they said good bye. Her mother pulled Hermione into a tight embrace. Hermione fought back the tears that were stinging her eyes. They broke apart, and then Hermione's father pulled her into a hug.

“You take care of yourself, okay?” he said, squeezing her gently. He kissed the top of her head and let go. Hermione nodded. Her mother pulled her into another hug.

“Write all the time, promise?” her mother said through tears, chuckling. Hermione laughed.

“I promise I'll write,” she replied, pulling back and looking her mother in the eyes. Hermione heard crunching behind her, and turned around to see Harry approaching. He didn't look happy at all, but he plastered a smile on to his face. Hermione caught his eye, questioning him, but he just shook his head slightly, giving her a look that said `I'll tell you later.'

“Thank you for the ride, Mr. and Mrs. Granger. I really appreciate it,” Harry said, walking up next to Hermione. She felt his hand grab hers, and he gave it a squeeze. A shiver rand down her spine, but she was disappointed. She figured Harry would squeeze and let go, but he didn't. She smiled, trying to contain herself.

"Anytime Harry. Anything for a …” Mr. Granger paused, “friend of Hermione's,” he said, winking. Hermione felt her cheeks grow hot, and she didn't have to look at Harry to know he was doing the same.

“Well, we best be off,” Mrs. Granger said, glaring at her husband. He shrugged and headed for the driver's side of the car, but not before hugging Hermione once more.

“Good bye, everyone!” he said, pulling the door open. Mrs. Granger hugged her daughter one last time.

“Good bye, love you sweetie,” she said, walking to her own side of the car.

“Bye!” Hermione, Harry, and Mrs. Weasley said in unison. They waved as Hermione's parents backed out of the driveway. They waved until the car was out of site, but Hermione wasn't paying attention to watching them leave. She was more focused on Harry's arm, wrapped around her waist.

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