Unofficial Portkey Archive

Chapter Seven - Scenes from an Italian Café

The next several weeks passed quickly. The house was given a complete cleaning from top
to bottom, and Hermione showed a sudden interest (and Harry had to admit, a talent) in
interior decorating, as she transfigured the heavy, dark, depressing furnishings and draperies
into light woods and flowery prints. Her touch did not extend to the entire house; she allowed
Harry to claim one room as his own-he and Ron decorated it with various bits of Quidditch
memorabilia.

The sudden profusion of bright colors had a salutary effect on the attitudes of everyone living in
the house; it was a very rare day that a frown was seen. Hermione's parents watched their
daughter's decorating passion with a bemused look, almost as if they were unable to accept the
sudden appearance of artistic ability in their eminently logical, bookworm daughter.

The Grangers were greeted every morning by a pair of Aurors who would accompany them to
their dental practice. They offered a free dental checkup to any Auror that wanted one, although
they stopped after Tonks accepted one day. None of them would talk about what happened, but
Harry and Hermione noticed that Hermione's parents never looked at Tonks quite the same again.
The Grangers were also somewhat wary of Remus Lupin after an idle remark at breakfast one
morning a day or so before a full moon revealed his affliction.

After some discussion between the adults, it was decided that Harry and Hermione could share a
room together; she was still sneaking into his room every night when he had a nightmare as it was.
Ron moved to the room next door, and every once and a while would make some joking comment
at breakfast about the noises he heard at night. As for Harry and Hermione, they weren't actually
doing anything beyond sleeping at night; they had decided after their experience with Voldemort
they didn't want to take the risk.

"It gives us something to look forward to," said Hermione, who, once she had learned to deal with
the unsettled feeling that having Harry constantly in the back of her mind gave her, returned to her
usual logical self.

The one complaint that any of them had was that they couldn't go outside and play Quidditch.
Grimmauld place only had a small, attached kitchen garden, and not the large backyard the Burrow
had. However, this had a beneficial effect on Harry and Ron's study habits; since Harry was seldom
found anywhere without Hermione, and once the cleaning and redecorating was done she went right
back to finishing her summer homework, that's where Harry and Ron wound up. Ron was occasionally
heard to grumble that all this studying couldn't possibly be healthy, but he also managed to get his
homework done as well. The three of them had managed to mend their friendship, and things had gone
back to the way they were before the beginning of the summer. The three of them seemed to be quite
happy, which is why Hermione's response one afternoon shortly before Harry's birthday was
completely unexpected.

The three of them were sitting in the library. Harry and Ron were playing a game of Wizard Chess, while
Hermione was curled up in a chair reading some obscure tome she'd found in Grimmauld Place's library.

"What do you want for your birthday, Harry?" she asked, looking up from her book.

"What?" he said absently, concentrating as Ron moved his knight to fork a bishop and rook.

"What do you want for your birthday?"

"I don't know," he said, as he moved his rook out of danger, only to frown as Ron captured Harry's bishop
and announced, "Check."

"Well, what do you think you want?" she insisted.

"Hermione, can you wait until I've finished this game? I'm losing here."

He heard her sniff, apparently insulted, and he looked up to see her put the book down and stomp out of the
room. A moment later he heard their bedroom door slam shut. He looked at Ron and raised an eyebrow.

"You'd better go find out what's wrong, mate." said Ron, "we can leave this game set up until later." He
grinned at Harry, "After watching you two, I am SO glad I don't have a girlfriend. Too much trouble."

"You don't know the half of it," said Harry. He got up and walked out of the room and down the hall to
the bedroom. He placed his ear against the door for a moment and was certain he heard crying coming
from inside.

He knocked on the door, "'Mione?"

"Go away," was the response.

"I don't think so, sweetheart." He tried the door but found it locked. "You want to open this door, or shall I?"

There was no answer, but after a moment, he heard the lock click open. He opened the door and found
Hermione huddled on their bed crying. He shut the door behind him, and said, "'Mione, what's wrong?"

Her response was totally unexpected and left him dumbfounded. "You don't love me anymore!"

Harry stood there a moment just staring at her. "Hermione, what do you mean I don't love you?" He
mentally checked that the bond was still up-it was and was broadcasting all of Hermione's grief and
sadness to him. "'Mione, Can't you feel the bond?" He tried broadcasting love to her through it.

"Oh, fine," she cried, "The bond's okay, therefore we must be okay." She looked up at him angrily.
"Merlin, you are so dense sometimes! You spend just about all of your time with Ron, even though I'm
in the same room with you! I would appreciate it if you would spend some time with me as well!"

"But what about at nighttime?" he asked, truly confused.

"Oh yes, nighttime," she snarled. "You know, Harry, it's not any easier for me waiting than it is for you.
I feel your arousal sometimes at night, you know, and that..." she paused for a moment and looked away,
"but there's nothing we can do about that, and I've accepted it." She looked back at him fiercely and said,
"However, it would be a lot easier for me if you would just pay some attention to me once in a while!
Conjure up some flowers; set it up so we eat dinner together, just the two of us, things like that!"

Harry slumped down on the edge of the bed. "You're really angry about this, aren't you?" he asked quietly,
embarrassed at himself because he knew she was right. He had been spending too much time with Ron
lately. At first, he told himself that it was because he was trying to rebuild his friendship with Ron, but then,
after it was obvious that the rift had been healed-if there had ever been one, he thought-he was still
spending time with Ron.

"I'm sorry, 'Mione," he said with a sigh, "You're right. I have been spending a lot of time with Ron. It's
comfortable. It's the way things used to be..." He noticed her starting to tear up again and quickly said,
"Don't take that the wrong way. I don't want you to go away. I love you." He sighed, "It's just that the
way the three of us were became a habit for me. Ron and I would be playing chess or goofing off, and
you'd be sitting in a corner reading. I forgot that things had changed." He took her hand in his. "I'm really,
really sorry." He looked at her across the tops of his glasses with this puppy-dog expression that soon
had her giggling.

"Oh Harry," she sighed as she sat up and gave him a hug. "You are such a dolt some times." She let him
go and said, "You can go away now. I have to order your birthday present, and since you never told me
what you wanted, it's my choice," she said with an evil grin.

He groaned. "Knowing you, it's going to be something imminently practical and boring. Probably a quill
that tells me when I misspell a word."

She laughed. "It's not like you couldn't use one. Go on, get out of here." She pushed him towards the door.

"Okay, okay, I'm going. However, don't complain that I'm not spending enough time with you when it's you
pushing me out the door," he said teasingly.

"Oh, I still will," she said with a mischievous grin. "Please tell Ginny to come up here if you see her," she added.

"Why?" he asked as he went out the door, "so you can gossip about how badly you're treated?"

"Harry," replied Hermione dangerously but with humor in her eyes.

"I'm leaving."

The door slammed behind him.

-*~*~*~*~*-

Harry went downstairs to the kitchen, where he found Mrs. Weasley preparing dinner.

"Hi Harry," she said, "You two get everything sorted out?"

"How did you know?" he asked, amazed, "Is it written on my forehead or something?"

"Actually, dear, it's the bond's doing. You and Hermione have accepted this house as your home, and the bond
ensures harmony by creating a happy atmosphere in the house. You must have noticed how happy everyone's
been lately. Anyway, when you two have a disagreement, the atmosphere in the house changes. You may not
notice it, but we do."

"Oh," he said. "Do you think it would be possible for Hermione and I to eat dinner privately tonight, maybe in
that small room behind where the Order meets all the time?"

"She was feeling that you don't pay enough attention to her, wasn't she?" asked Mrs. Weasley with a grin.

"Yeah," he said ashamedly.

"Harry, it takes time to learn all the in's and out's of a relationship. Merlin knows, you certainly didn't grow up
seeing a good relationship, so it's normal to not know what to do," she replied. "You're a good boy, Harry, and
I know you do your best."

"Thanks, Mrs. Weasley," he said, embarrassed.

"So, you'd better go get that room ready for her tonight. Is there a table in there? You'll need one if there isn't. Take
the one out of the Order's meeting room, they aren't meeting tonight."

"Okay," he said, and started to head out of the kitchen.

"Harry," she said.

"Yes," he said, stopping.

"If you do it all yourself, she'll be a lot more impressed. I'll keep Ron busy if needed."

"Oh, right," he said, "By the way, where's Ginny? Hermione wanted to see her."

"Ginny!" yelled Mrs. Weasley.

"Yes, mum," came Ginny's answer from the living room.

"Hermione wanted to talk to you. She's up in her room."

"Okay!"

They heard her thump up the stairs.

"Well, Harry, you'd better go get started on that room."

"Yes, ma'am," he said. He left the kitchen and went down the hall to the room.

He opened the door and discovered that this was probably the only room in the house that had not received the
benefit of Hermione's sudden interest in interior decorating.

It was not a particularly large room; it was rectangular in shape and more long than wide as Harry viewed it from
the doorway. He set to with a will, and made short work of the dust and cobwebs with a few scourgify charms.
Most of the room's contents seemed to have been removed at some point so he didn't have to try to deal with any
of the potentially dangerous objects that seemed to have accumulated in the Black house.

He was trying to figure out the best way to squeeze the table from the meeting room into this room, when, with a bang,
Dobby appeared in the room.

"Greetings, Master Harry Potter, sir!" he said cheerfully, "Dobby is here to help!"

"Hi Dobby," said Harry, "How did you know I needed help?"

"Headmaster Dumbledore told me, Master Harry Potter, sir! What is Master Harry Potter trying to do?"

"Dumbledore didn't tell you?"

Dobby suddenly frowned and started to beat his head against the wall. "Oh, Dobby is bad house elf. Dobby didn't wait
to hear what Master Harry Potter needed help with!"

"Dobby, stop!" said Harry. "It's alright. I certainly can tell you what I'm trying to do."

"What is Master Harry Potter doing?"

"I want to give Hermione a really special dinner tonight, just the two of us."

"What kind of dinner, Master Harry Potter, sir?"

"Hmm," said Harry, "I was thinking Italian."

"Dobby can do Italian, Master Harry Potter, sir!" said the house elf excitedly.

He snapped his fingers, and suddenly the room looked like an outdoor Italian cafe, or what Harry suspected was an
outdoor Italian cafe, having never been to one before.

There was a small, round table and two wicker chairs in the center of the room. The table was covered with a white
tablecloth. In the center of the table was a vase with a single red rose, and to either side of the vase were lit candles.
The ceiling of the room had vanished and had been replaced with a representation of the night sky, with a much larger
than normal full moon hanging low on the horizon providing additional light.

One wall of the room had transformed into a backdrop representation of a storefront, and the other long wall had
transformed into what looked to be view of a river, with the moon reflected in it. The two shorter walls had vanished,
although the doorway remained, giving the rather unusual look of a doorway in the middle of the street. And playing in
the background was quiet, romantic music.

Harry stood there, simply dumbfounded.

"Does Master Harry like it?" asked Dobby anxiously.

Harry finally found his voice. "Dobby, it's perfect! How did you do it?"

"Dobby is a house elf, Master Harry, sir, even if Dobby wants paying. But Master Harry doesn't have to pay Dobby for
this, Master Harry is a friend."

Harry smiled. "Dobby, thank you."

Dobby looked at Harry, "If Master Harry will take Dobby's advice, Master Harry should go change his robes, they're
kind of dirty."

Harry laughed. "Thanks, Dobby." He turned to leave just as Mrs. Weasley came in the door.

"Harry, are you about ready in here..." Her voice trailed off in amazement as she saw the room.

"Harry...how?"

"Dobby helped, Mistress Weasley," piped up the house elf from where he was standing behind Harry.

Molly Weasley smiled.

"Do you think she'll like it, Mrs. Weasley?" asked Harry, somewhat anxiously, "I mean, I didn't do all of it myself.
Heck, I wouldn't know where to begin..."

"Harry, if this doesn't make her think that you love her, nothing will." answered Molly. "Now go up and change.
I had Ginny make sure that Hermione was wearing something nice tonight as well. We came up with the excuse
that we're having important dinner guests, so don't be surprised if you see Ginny and Ron dressed up as well."

"Thanks, Mrs. Weasley."

He left the room, barely aware that Mrs. Weasley was following behind him. She closed the door. He went up
the stairs to the room he shared with Hermione, and found it empty. She must be getting dressed in Ginny's room,
he thought. He stripped off his dirty robes, and pulled his dress robes out of his chest. He put them on, and then
stopped in front of the mirror. He brushed at his hair with his hands, trying to make it resemble something other
than his trademark mess.

"Here, let me," came Hermione's soft voice behind him. She had a hairbrush in her hand, and she brushed his hair
until it actually looked neat, but still hid his scar behind his bangs.

He turned to look at her, and felt his jaw drop. She was wearing gorgeous emerald green dress robes with matching
earrings. The color of the robes seemed to accent her brown eyes in a way that Harry had never seen before, and
the deep vee of the neckline accentuated her breasts in a way that Harry found rather arousing. Her hair had been
brushed until it hung neatly around her, framing her face in a very attractive way.

Harry leaned over and gave her a kiss. "You look magnificent tonight," he said.

"Thank you, Harry," she said shyly. "I wonder who these guests are that I have to dress up so much for?" she asked.

"I don't know," answered Harry.

She stepped back and looked at him critically. "You look pretty good yourself, you know."

He smiled. "Shall we go down, Ms. Granger?" he asked, offering her his arm.

"I would love to, Mr. Potter," she returned, placing her arm in his.

They left the room and walked downstairs where they were greeted by Mrs. Weasley and Mrs. Granger, who had just
come home from work and whom Molly had filled in on what was happening.

"You look marvelous, Harry" said Mrs. Weasley, while Mrs. Granger fussed over her daughter.

"Who are the guests tonight, Mrs. Weasley?" asked Hermione.

"You'll see, dear," she answered. "Harry, would you like to show her?"

Harry took Hermione's arm in his again, and led her down the hall towards the room.

"Harry, this isn't the way to the kitchen. What's going on?" asked Hermione exasperatedly. "Why do I get the feeling you
aren't telling me the truth about something?"

"Because, my dear," he answered as he opened the door of the room, and escorted her inside, "I'm not."

Hermione gasped in astonishment. "Harry, how?"

At that moment, Dobby, dressed as a waiter, came up to them. "Would Sir and Madam like to be seated?"

"Dobby?" asked Hermione in astonishment, "what are you doing?"

"Dobby is helping Master Harry give his bondmate a date," he answered with a big smile, and then dropped back
into character as their waiter.

"This way, sir and madam," he said.

Harry escorted Hermione over to the table, pulled out a chair for her, and waited while she seated herself. He then
went around to the other side of the table and seated himself.

"Menu, Madam?" inquired Dobby as he offered one to Hermione. Harry stifled a giggle. He watched as Hermione accepted
the menu from Dobby, and then looked around the setting.

"Harry, how did you do this?" she asked, amazed.

"Menu, sir?" asked Dobby as he offered one to Harry.

"Thank you, Dobby," he said as he took the menu from the house elf.

"Actually, 'Mione, it was Dobby who did all this. I just mentioned that I wanted Italian, and, well, here it is."

"Harry, it's lovely," she said.

"Would sir or madam like something to drink," asked Dobby.

"'Mione?" inquired Harry.

"Just water for me, Dobby," she said.

Dobby seemed to turn his nose up at the idea. "If Dobby may, ma'am, he would recommend the 1992 Les Clos
Grand Cru Chablis for the appetizer."

Hermione raised an eyebrow at Harry. "Wine?"

He shrugged. "Why not? This is our night, after all." He reached across the table and took her hand in his as he
told Dobby, "The lady and I will both have a glass."

"Very good, sir," answered Dobby, and two wine glasses filled with a white wine appeared on the table.
"Would sir or madam like an appetizer?"

Harry looked down at his menu as Hermione did the same. "See anything, sweetheart?" he asked.

"How about the bruschetta?" she asked. "It's not fancy, but I'm not in the mood to try anything else."

"That works for me," said Harry. He turned to Dobby. "We'll have the bruschetta."

Dobby nodded, and the garlic bread appeared on the table. "Dobby will return to get your main
course selections in a little while. Enjoy your meal." He disappeared.

Neither Harry nor Hermione said anything for a moment. Harry took a sip of his wine, and then took a piece of
the bruschetta, which he bit into, letting the garlic and butter work their magic on his tongue.

Hermione took a sip of wine, and then looked at Harry. "This...this is simply wonderful. I'm sorry I got so upset
at you this afternoon."

"Don't be," he returned. "If you hadn't said anything, I don't think I would have realized that there was anything
wrong. You were right, you know. I am incredibly dense sometimes."

She smiled and gave a small laugh. "Oh, Harry," she said fondly. She looked around at the décor and shook
her head. "This is all so amazing. I forget what house elves are capable of sometimes."

"I was pretty amazed myself," said Harry. "Dobby just snapped his fingers and 'poof' all this was here."

"Poof?" she inquired with a small giggle.

"Yeah, poof," he said.

They finished their appetizer in silence, content to merely watch each other. Shortly after they had finished, Dobby
reappeared and took their main course requests. Harry decided to have the veal tortellini alla panna, while Hermione
went with spaghetti with meat sauce. "Not very original," she said, "but I'm not feeling adventurous tonight." Dobby
presented Harry with another glass of the white wine, while he filled Hermione's glass with a medium red.

They ate their main dishes in a comfortable silence punctuated with small talk, and before long Dobby was bringing
dessert to the table, Italian ice cream for both of them.

"Harry," said Hermione shyly.

"Yes, love?"

"Thank you for tonight. This has been absolutely wonderful."

He smiled across the table at her.

-*~*~*~*~*-

When they came out of their private little paradise, the house was quiet. Harry looked at the clock above the mantle,
which read, "You really should be in bed." Mrs. Weasley came shuffling out of the kitchen with a cup of tea in her hand.
"Oh, there you are!" she said brightly. "How was it, dear?" she asked Hermione.

Hermione blushed. "It was wonderful, Mrs. Weasley. Thank you."

"Oh, don't thank me, dear. It was all Harry's idea, although I might have talked to Dumbledore about sending Dobby..."
Her eyes twinkled. "Now you two run along to bed, it's very late."

"Yes, Mrs. Weasley," they chorused, and ran up the stairs.

Molly sighed and went back into the kitchen, where Elizabeth Granger was sitting at the table, staring morosely into the
cup of tea in front of her. She looked up when Molly entered the room. "So how are they?"

Molly smiled. "As much in love as ever, if not a little bit more so after tonight."

Elizabeth sighed. "And this doesn't strike you as slightly strange?"

"What do you mean?" asked Molly, taking a seat at the table, and freshening her cup of tea from the pot.

"Hermione's only sixteen, and Harry's even younger." She frowned. "Maybe I'm just being too Mugglish--is that even a
word? Is this sort of thing normal in your world and I'm just over-reacting? Or am I being an overprotective mother? This
summer has been the most bizarre one of my life." She sighed and took a sip of tea.

Molly reflected that this was the reason that most Muggles had their memories adjusted so they didn't remember their
encounters with the Wizarding World. It wasn't to be cruel; it was so they wouldn't have to deal with these sorts of
concerns. But circumstances were definitely different in this case.

Molly replied, "The magical world does do things a little bit differently; it isn't all that unusual for people to get married
at a younger age then they do in your world." She took a sip of tea, and said reflectively, "Harry and Hermione are a
little bit younger than average, but then nothing they do is really normal. If anybody had told me five years ago that those
children, including my Ron, were going to face He Who Must Not Be Named as many times as they have, and walk
away, I would have laughed in their face."

"Why do you call this Voldemort person that?" asked Elizabeth curiously.

Molly laughed. "I don't really know...not anymore...it's an ingrained habit, I suppose. Not mentioning his name supposedly
keeps his attention off of you, but I guess that isn't really working anymore."

"Yeah," replied Elizabeth. She looked down at her cup. "So, how did this war come about anyway?"

Molly sighed. "The reasons for it are both thousands of years old, and as current as last week. Sad to say, the major
bone of contention is how we should treat Muggles."

"Oh?"

"Yes," said Molly, "He Who...Voldemort, leads the faction that believes that Muggles are little better than vermin, and
should be treated as such. In particular, they hate the idea of Muggles marrying into Wizarding families and producing
children. They believe it pollutes the 'pure' blood of the Wizarding families. They call them 'mudbloods'."

"That sounds horrifyingly familiar," said Elizabeth.

"Yes, a bit like that Bitler character, isn't it?"

"It was Hitler, but yes."

"However, not all Wizarding families feel that way. We don't, and Harry's family certainly didn't. Harry's mother came
from a Muggle family, after all."

Elizabeth looked up at Molly and noticed how tired she looked. "You should be asleep, you look done in."

Molly looked down at her tea. "I haven't been sleeping well lately," she said. "Nightmares. Too many family members
involved in this damn mess. Of my seven children, two are actively fighting the war, one thinks his father is mad for
believing Dumbledore, and the others always seem to be involved whether I want them to or not."

She looked at Elizabeth apologetically, "I'm sorry. I shouldn't be dumping this on you. You lost your house and everything
you had, and then wound having to live among people I'm sure you find completely strange. It's just that it's been a while
since I had a sympathetic female ear to talk to."

Elizabeth smiled back sympathetically. "It's alright. If the truth were known, I haven't been sleeping very well either. Between
losing the house, and everything that's happened with Hermione, well...actually it's nice having some one to talk to that I can
be completely open with. My other friends would definitely not understand about Hermione's unique abilities."

"There is that," said Molly wryly.

"And Bob, I can talk to him, but he's just so...male...sometimes. He just doesn't get it. He figures we're safe here, and we can
still go be dentists during the day, and he likes Harry, and…" Elizabeth sighed. "I'd just like my life back, you know? I'd like to
be able to go to work without having to have Aurors watching me all day, and have my own house. Not that I'm unappreciative
of Harry letting us live here, but it isn't my house."

She paused for a moment, and then said, "What really bothers me is that it's starting to feel like my daughter and her husband's
house, and I just wasn't prepared to become a mother-in-law at my age. I figured I'd have a few more years."

"Elizabeth, Harry intends nothing but the best for your daughter."

Elizabeth sighed. "I know that, I see how they are with each other. And in fact, if all they had to face was the normal ups and
downs of married life, I'd give them my blessing and be done with it-it's not like Harry can't take care of her." She looked
at Molly, "That's part of what worries me, oddly enough, what that boy has had to go through to be as mature as he is at
almost sixteen..."

Molly nodded. "I know what you mean. We wanted to give Harry as normal a childhood as possible, but events have just
conspired against us."

Elizabeth yawned and looked at her watch. "Yeesh, 2 a.m. I've got to try and get some sleep tonight. I do have to go to work
tomorrow."

"Tomorrow is Harry's birthday, so we'll be having a party at dinner," answered Molly.

"Should Bob and I get him a gift?"

"I think you already have," answered Molly, "The only one he really wants."

"Hermione."

Molly nodded.