The Storm

jardyn39

Rating: PG13
Genres: Angst, Humor
Relationships: Harry & Hermione
Book: Harry & Hermione, Books 1 - 5
Published: 12/02/2005
Last Updated: 12/02/2005
Status: completed

Harry has been invited to stay at the Grangers during the summer holidays. Breakfast soon becomes his favourite time of the day although, during the holidays, Hermione certainly isn’t a morning person. At the end of a particularly enjoyable day, something provokes Harry. In a night-time storm of exploding glass and masonry throughout the neighbourhood, Harry breaks down and makes a confession with consequences for himself and the Accidental Magic Reversal Squad.

Chapters

1. The Storm

1. The Storm

The Storm by Jardyn39

Typos corrected 2 May 2005

Early on a Friday morning during his summer holiday after his Fifth Year at Hogwarts, Harry Potter stood at the ironing board desperately trying to control himself. With a shaking hand he managed to place the hot steam iron on the stand before he gave in to the silent fits of laughter that racked his body.

Using one arm to steady himself, he wiped his eyes before looking up at the two people sitting at the breakfast table in front of him.

Both had grins of their faces but continued their conversation as if Harry wasn’t there.

"I don’t care," said Mr Granger, continuing to pretend to read his morning paper, "I’m not giving them back."

His wife returned her coffee cup to the table and pleaded quietly, "But she’ll notice something if it happens again."

"Of course," he replied with some pride, "she’s a bright girl."

"But what do we tell her?"

"I’m not the one who has a problem with her knowing."

"Really?" said Mrs Granger. "So I have a problem with her knowing, do I?"

"Oh," said Mr Granger, "my mistake. I’ll go and tell her now, shall I?"

He half got up before Mrs Granger spat, "Don’t you dare!"

Mr Granger smiled at his wife who was blushing furiously and then winked at Harry.

Harry grinned at them both and picked up the last of the items he had just finished ironing from the board and dropped them neatly onto the top of the pile before unplugging the iron.

He loved these early morning exchanges and continued to find any excuse to be present. Not that he needed an excuse, but he felt less awkward having something to do.

Mr and Mrs Granger generally got up early and always enjoyed breakfast together. Hermione preferred to sleep in, which Harry thought, was probably just as well given the subject matter of their conversations.

Harry had been staying as a guest for almost two weeks now. It struck Harry that he had never heard Hermione’s parents raise their voice in anger once. They never argued at all, in fact. Mr Granger did, however, enjoy teasing his wife about one thing, but always well out of Hermione’s earshot.

The Granger Household was much quieter than the Weasley’s, the only other family home Harry knew. He couldn’t count the Dursley home since he had never been welcomed there.

On the first morning, Harry had been torn between making an excuse to leave the kitchen and trying to work out what Mr and Mrs Granger were bickering about. It sounded far too embarrassing and private to be discussed in front of him, a relative stranger. Harry soon realised that bickering was the wrong word. In spite of her clear embarrassment, Mrs Granger never failed to smile or, more usually, dissolve into fits laughter. They loved to tease one another, yes. But they never really bickered.

Harry soon realised that they were very much in love, and he was flattered to have been made so welcome and included.

At that moment Hermione came into the kitchen. As usual, she was wearing an old pink dressing gown over flannel pyjamas and fluffy slippers. Her hair was extraordinarily messy, almost completely obscuring her face, and she was yawning widely as she sat down. Harry was sure she still hadn’t opened her eyes yet.

"Morning," all three of then said quietly and then exchanged smiles as they received an indistinct mumble in return.

Mrs Granger poured a glass of orange juice and placed it directly in front of her daughter.

"Harry," said Mrs Granger getting up, "we have surgery this morning but we’ll meet you and Hermione at four o’clock in the Arcade. We’ve booked a table at seven and then we’ll probably go and see a film. We usually prefer a late sitting on Fridays."

"That’d be great," said Harry.

Another mumble came from Hermione.

Mr Granger folded his paper, smiling at his daughter.

"Because, darling, we need time for Harry to choose his birthday present," he said.

"Y- You really don’t have to," stuttered Harry, suddenly very embarrassed. "You already got me all these clothes." Harry’s entire holiday wardrobe had been provided by the Grangers. Hermione and her mother had spent three entire days dragging him from store to store until they found him everything they wanted. Of course, he hadn’t been allowed an opinion on the matter.

"Harry, you can’t have clothes for your sixteenth birthday," said Mr Granger, getting up and kissing the top Hermione’s head. "See you later Harry," he said with a wave and disappeared out to the front door.

"Take your time, darling," said Mrs Granger, gently lifting aside her daughter’s hair and kissing her tenderly on her cheek. "Harry’s done your chores again."

In an instant she was gone. It was only after the front door slammed shut that Harry moved to sit down opposite Hermione.

Harry couldn’t help but smile.

Slowly Hermione raised her head and barely opened her eyes. She almost growled at the morning light.

"Stop looking so cheerful," she croaked.

"I’m sorry, Hermione," Harry replied grinning. "Can I get you some warm toast or do you want cereal?"

Hermione’s thought processes looked like they were exhausting her. Just as Harry was sure she was about to fall back asleep right in front of him, Hermione groped across the table. Harry placed an empty bowl within her reach and she clumsily grabbed it.

Hearing a noise that sounded like assent, Harry assumed she wanted cereal. He filled the small bowl with corn flakes and a splash of milk and placed it and a spoon before her. It had taken a few mornings but Harry was beginning to know Hermione’s holiday habits.

At last Hermione raised her glass of orange juice and drank deeply. This, Harry knew, was the first real sign that Hermione was rejoining the waking world.

She placed the glass tumbler down on the table, picked up her spoon and groaned.

"Is my hair a mess?" she asked, brushing her hair out of her face.

"You look great," Harry said sincerely. From the very first morning when she had appeared at the breakfast table, he had been totally captivated by her. For all the time Harry had known Hermione, she had been punctual, neat, tidy, washed, alert and totally in control of herself in the mornings before making an appearance. At home in the holidays, Hermione clearly liked to relax her standards.

Mrs Granger had confided to Harry, after Hermione’s first morning appearance, that she had been worried that his presence might change her daughter’s holiday habits. She had warned, though, that Hermione tended to revert to her usual school ways the closer it got to the First of September.

Each morning Harry and Hermione would be the last to leave the table. He loved to sit and watch her. He thought she was quite adorable, and would have been happy just to sit and study her all day.

Eventually, Hermione woke up enough to become irritated by Harry’s attentions, as she had every morning so far. Her spoon clanged inside the empty bowl and she pushed it away before rising silently and moving towards the door. She never voiced any objections to his watching her across the breakfast table, but he felt she wasn’t entirely comfortable.

As he watched her leave, Harry felt a little sadness. He realised that he was always happier when Hermione was present and sadder somehow when she wasn’t. These mornings were different though. It was becoming more and more difficult to let her go without calling her back.

For a moment, Harry just sat there, once again committing every part of her to memory. He knew she’d soon be back; washed, dressed and alert as ever. As much as he loved Hermione, there was something very special about her these mornings. He couldn’t quite put his finger on why. Perhaps it was her scent or maybe that she looked vulnerable.

*

Harry gathered the breakfast things and began to wash up at the kitchen sink. A moment later he was surprised when Hermione returned early. She couldn’t have been gone for more than a minute.

He turned and realised at once that she was in a towering temper.

"Hermione, what’s the matter?"

"As if you don’t know!" she snarled, clutching the top lapels of her dressing gown together.

"I’ve no idea, honestly," he said earnestly.

Hermione looked too angry to say anything further. Instead she pointed a shaky finger.

Harry’s eyes followed to where she was pointing. She appeared to be pointing towards the ironing board but he still had no idea what could have upset her so much.

"Please, Hermione, just tell me what’s wrong," Harry pleaded.

Hermione was breathing heavily and still frowning.

"You’ve been messing about with my things," she managed to say through clenched teeth.

"What things?"

"My under-things."

"I’m sorry but-" Harry began before he caught himself. "No, I haven’t," he said indignantly.

"No?" she said marching over to the laundry basket. "What are those then?"

"Er, those are just the clothes I’ve ironed this morning," Harry replied carefully.

Hermione’s scowl darkened.

"I’m really sorry, Hermione, I didn’t know any of these were yours or that you’d be offended if I ironed them," he said quickly. "Please, forgive me," he added.

Hermione’s expression appeared to soften, so Harry thought he would chance a couple more words.

"Please believe me when I tell you, I didn’t get much of a thrill from ironing that underwear," he said with a smirk.

Hermione’s mouth twitched, much to his relief.

"So which of these mustn’t I iron?" he asked reaching into the once neat pile. "These frilly ones, I suppose?"

"No," said Hermione snatching them away from Harry, "those are Mum’s."

Harry snorted and immediately had to hold his hands up to defend himself. Laughing, he managed to say, "But I’ll have to know, Hermione. What about these?"

For a few moments they wrestled over some boxer shorts before Harry thought he had better surrender.

"Hah! Victory is mine," shouted Hermione, brandishing the boxers above her head.

"If you say so," said Harry returning her smile, "but wrestling with you over some underwear is definitely my favourite way of starting the day."

Hermione’s eye’s widened as her smile faltered and her face reddened. She dropped her arms at once and threw the boxers towards the other laundry. She quickly then gathered together her robes before dashing back upstairs.

Harry looked around to see Hedwig sitting patiently on the window sill, apparently content to watch the goings on inside. Harry went over to the back door and went outside to offer her an arm.

Hedwig usually paid them a visit in the mornings. Sometimes she brought messages or just nibbled some breakfast. This morning there was no message and Harry sat for a while stroking and talking absently her.

"I know, Hedwig," he whispered, hearing Hermione coming back down stairs. "I’ll speak to her soon, I promise."

Hermione breezed back into the kitchen.

"What do you want to do today?" she asked brightly, as if the exchange they’d had only a few minutes ago hadn’t happened at all.

"I don’t mind," he replied, knowing full well that Hermione had already planned their day. "What do you want to do?"

"Well, I want to visit the library and then we can go for a walk."

"Sounds good," Harry said, getting up to take Hedwig back outside. "I just hope the underwear fetish section is big enough."

*

"I think Crookshanks got bored today," said Mr Granger absently as they perused the restaurant menu. "I found my boxers on the kitchen floor."

"Really, dear?" said Mrs Granger, "I thought he usually slept all day."

"Actually," said Harry, quickly moving his leg away to avoid Hermione’s kick, "that was my fault."

Her parents both looked up with mild interest.

"You see," Harry continued with a small smile, "I was accused of getting a thrill out of ironing that underwear."

"Discovered at last!" said Mrs Granger laughing and Harry nodded.

"I did think you spent rather a long time on my boxers," joined in Mr Granger, laughing.

"Dad!" whispered an embarrassed Hermione.

"Well to be honest I was just glad of the attention," said her father before the three of them dissolved into laughter. Hermione’s indignant expression made them laugh harder.

Harry recovered quickly though and said, "But I know the consequences now."

"Pretty serious, judging from the state of my shorts," said Mr Granger returning to his menu. Harry turned to Hermione and grinned. He was pleased to receive an embarrassed smile in return, which she tried to hide with her menu.

Harry glanced over to Mrs Granger who was smiling warmly at her daughter.

Suddenly Mr Granger’s head shot up.

"Hey, if Harry-" he began.

"-No you can’t have a starter, even if Harry is here," his wife cut across him. "We’re watching our weight, remember, dear?"

Mr Granger grumbled but winked at Harry. He was absolutely positive that Mr Granger wasn’t going to say anything about a starter, but Hermione hadn’t indicated that she’d noticed anything. Harry marvelled at how quickly Mrs Granger anticipated his thoughts. She rolled her eyes and gave a small shake of her head as Harry looked over to her.

*

Mrs Granger smiled seeing Harry looking at the wrist watch they’d bought for him earlier. She wrapped her arm through his and drew herself closer as they walked the short way from the restaurant to the cinema. A few paces ahead, Hermione and her father were deeply engrossed in conversation.

"I’m so glad you chose that one, it was my favourite," she said before he could stutter more thanks. "We weren’t sure it would work, though. At school I mean."

"It’s still too much," replied Harry. "I was more than happy just to be invited to stay. I can’t tell you how much being here has meant to me."

"We couldn’t just leave you at Grimmauld Place. Hermione was quite beside herself when she found out you were there alone."

Harry smiled and nodded.

"I don’t think I could have stood much longer there. In some ways it was worse than being back at my Aunt and Uncle’s. It least their torments kept me from torturing myself during the day."

Mrs Granger appeared to stiffen slightly.

"Why didn’t you stay at the Burrow?"

"They were wonderful, really, but after a couple of days of Mrs Weasley’s mollycoddling and everyone walking around me on eggshells, I’d had enough. I know they meant well."

"It’s always difficult to know how to act for the best," Mrs Granger said sympathetically. "I tried to tell Hermione that not everyone likes to talk through things during a bereavement."

"I didn’t think I wanted to," admitted Harry, "but she has helped me. You all have."

"You ought to spend more time doing things for yourself, though. I dread to think what Molly will think when she finds out you’ve done nothing but housework and following Hermione to libraries and museums. It’s okay to sleep in sometimes as well."

"I like the mornings the best."

"That’s pretty obvious, actually," said Mrs Granger smiling again.

Harry laughed and said, "No, well alright, but apart from that. What I mean is that every morning you all show how much affection you have each other. It’s something very special."

"Well, special for us maybe, but hardly anything other than normal."

"It is from my perspective," he said darkly.

"Hermione’s told us a little of what it’s been like for you," said Mrs Granger before she stopped abruptly and stared at Harry, not letting him go. "She doesn’t know, does she?"

"She knows quite a bit, mostly from Ron I think," admitted Harry. "But I’m not ready to share everything with her yet. I couldn’t bare her pity."

Harry started to walk on but Mrs Granger held her ground. He sighed.

"Look, I’ve never been exactly mistreated by the Dursley’s. They’ve clothed me, given me a place to sleep and fed me. I even got my own bedroom when I started at Hogwarts."

"Sounds just perfect," she said before emitting a loud sniff. Harry smiled and handed her a clean handkerchief from his pocket.

They walked on slowly.

"If you can’t even tell Hermione about your life at home, how will you ever tell her about how you feel?"

"Well, that is a problem," admitted Harry before he realised what he’d said. He wished he’d thought properly before answering. He hadn’t intended to acknowledge anything and still wasn’t sure how much he could confide in Mrs Granger. Still, they had confided in him.

"I have half a plan," he said eventually.

"I bet it’s rubbish," she said dismissively. "Go on, I’m listening."

Harry laughed.

"Well it probably is but I’ll only tell you if you promise not to tell Hermione anything."

*

As they entered the dark cinema auditorium, Harry saw Mrs Granger grab her husband’s hand and drag him towards the seats she had selected. He was about to follow when he felt Hermione grab his hand and dragged him off in another direction.

"Don’t you want to sit with your parents?"

"Not likely," she whispered back. "They don’t usually watch the film and they can be quite embarrassing sometimes."

"Oh."

The film started almost at once. Harry felt an arm loop through his until Hermione’s hand found his. Hermione wriggled against him until she was comfortable.

When the house lights went up again, Harry realised he had absolutely no idea what the film was about.

All he felt was annoyance that it was over so quickly.

*

They exited into the lobby where Hermione’s parents were waiting for them. For a brief moment Harry was concerned how they might react to seeing him holding Hermione’s hand. He soon realised that they were too caught up in each other to worry about anything else.

He looked down to see Hermione give him a small smile as the four of them made their way back to the car.

"So what were you and Mum talking about earlier?" asked Hermione in a whisper.

"She caught me out," he whispered back. "I’ll tell you but only after you wrestle me for the boxers again tomorrow."

Hermione snorted. "You have no chance of beating me. It’d be kinder just nag you until you tell me!"

"Well, it’s not so much the winning as the taking part, actually," he said before receiving a playful slap on his arm.

*

Harry stood alone in the kitchen. He had just said goodnight to the Grangers and was washing up the four mugs of hot chocolate that they’d finished the day with. He had thoroughly enjoyed the whole day and his thoughts wandered over the events from his confrontation with Hermione first thing, through the gift of his new watch and dinner. He recalled his conversation with Mrs Granger and feeling so close to Hermione in the cinema.

He smiled to himself as he remembered worrying about keeping hold of Hermione’s hand.

Then something struck him.

He thought back to the moment he saw Mr and Mrs Granger waiting for them in the lobby. They were just standing there, close to each other. They were holding hands. Mrs Granger looked like she had whispered something to him and he lent down to give her the briefest of kisses. All the time they were looking at each other with a loving gaze.

Harry gripped the steel sink top, fighting to control his emotions.

He screwed up his eyes, willing the tears not to come.

Why did the sight of Hermione’s parent’s affect him so?

His throat was tightening.

"Harry?"

The glass light bulb hanging from the ceiling pendant exploded, covering the kitchen with tiny shards of glass. The kitchen was plunged into darkness.

"Harry?"

Harry turned, suddenly concerned.

"I’m sorry. Be careful of the broken glass," he said in a shaky voice and wiping his eyes.

He heard padded footsteps come towards him. He felt a warm hand take his arm.

"Come into the living room," said a gentle voice. "We can clear this up later."

She led him into the living room through the darkened corridor.

"Don’t turn the light on."

"Okay, Harry. Stay here. I’ll be right back."

Harry’s shaky knees finally gave way and he fell heavily onto the plush carpet as distant bangs started around him. He could hear the wind blow outside.

Almost at once she was back, crushing him in a hug. Automatically he brought his arms around her back and rested his head on her shoulder. All around them the sounds of smashing and exploding objects continued.

Gradually the frequency of the pops and bangs became less and less, although the wind continued to howl outside. Hermione released her grip a little and began to lift her head. This provoked one large dull crack that sounded like bricks snapping in the walls. The howl of the wind grew louder as the glass in the large bay windows blew out.

"No!" cried Harry, holding her tighter.

"I’m not going anywhere," she said gently. Her voice was oddly calm, almost like she had been expecting this very thing.

"I’m so sorry," whispered Harry.

For several minutes they didn’t speak until the house eventually fell silent again.

"I feel so guilty," he said at last.

"I’m listening."

"It was seeing your parents that started me off. I suddenly realised that every time I’ve seen them together, they show their love; every gesture, every word, every touch. For the longest time the only loving family I knew was the Weasleys. It was, is, wonderful to be included. But all the noise, rows and everything might have made me feel a bit envious, but not having that kind of loving home wasn’t the end of the world."

Hermione shifted a little, but held tight.

"Just three weeks ago, I was resolute. I accepted my fate. Killing Voldemort for good was a fair exchange. Nothing else mattered. I would be strong and alone."

Hermione stifled a sniff.

"Now look at me. I’m weak and ashamed of myself. After everything that’s happened, after what I did, I should at least be full of revenge and guilt. Instead, I’m just feeling sorry for myself. I know I shouldn’t but it’s just overpowering."

Hermione sighed deeply.

"You’re wrong, Harry," she said. "You’ll never be alone, no matter how hard you try."

Harry gently stroked her back and they broke apart. He looked down to see that Hermione had been crying just as much as he had.

"I’m under strict instructions not to argue with you tonight," said Hermione with a small smile. "Don’t think you’re getting off though. You will lie down on that settee and sleep."

She placed both hands on his shoulders and pushed herself to her feet. Harry looked at the plush settee. It looked inviting. Ignoring the debris, he crawled over and climbed onto the settee.

He fell asleep almost at once; worried about the damage he’d done but too exhausted to remain awake.

*

Bright sunlight streamed into the living room. Harry opened his eyes and immediately became aware that Hermione was snuggled next to him and they were covered by a blanket.

He gingerly reached out and grabbed his glasses, trying not to wake her.

Harry looked around the room expecting to see the damage he’d caused the night before. The room looked entirely normal. Nothing was out of place at all.

It was still very early.

Harry thought he heard something from the kitchen. As gently as possible he got up and carefully wrapped the blanket back around Hermione as she slept. He crept out of the living room and along the short corridor to the kitchen.

As quietly as possible, he pushed open the door.

"Good morning, Harry."

"Morning, Professor Dumbledore," he replied quietly. "Cup of tea?"

"Delightful," he said smiling and Harry moved to the sink.

As the kettle quickly came to the boil, Harry turned around and asked, "Did I do much damage last night?"

"Your range was rather impressive."

At that moment the kitchen door opened and in rushed Mrs Granger. She immediately went straight over to Harry and hugged him.

"I’m sorry," he managed to say.

"Don’t be, Harry," said Dumbledore pointing his wand at the teapot. At once cups, saucers, milk, teaspoons and the pot of tea flew to the table and made themselves into four steaming cups of tea.

"As a matter of fact, the Accidental Magic Reversal Squad thoroughly enjoyed themselves and the paperwork will keep them busy for ages. It’s been years since they had a full scale call out. I’d be surprised if you don’t get requests for a repeat performance. It’s true, they were stumped by a few Muggle artefacts but Arthur Weasley came to their rescue."

"Was anybody hurt?" asked Harry as Mrs Granger disengaged herself and they sat at the table.

"There were no injuries at all."

"We were a bit worried about all the flying glass, though," admitted Mrs Granger. "Except, we couldn’t find any."

Harry raised his eyebrows and the Headmaster advised, "You appear to have vanished any shards as soon as they became a danger. You also supported most of the houses after the supporting masonry in the walls had been crushed."

"Yes, that was pretty weird," added Mr Granger as he came in and gently closed the kitchen door behind him. "Seeing all those holes and the roof lifting off like that."

"I’m sorry if I scared you," said Harry.

"Oh, we weren’t scared," said Mrs Granger brightly. "We knew something might happen, obviously, but we knew you were in control. We could feel your presence. We just enjoyed the show. It was amazing."

"The only scary part was watching those idiots before Arthur Weasley arrived," added Mr Granger.

"But I wasn’t in control."

"The facts would suggest otherwise," said Dumbledore gently. "I’m informed that neighbouring households with elderly residents or small children weren’t affected at all. You just voiced concern about possible injuries but nothing about Ministry warnings. Consciously you cared and subconsciously you controlled the events to ensure there were no injuries. The storm was simply a manifestation of your feelings and emotions. These things happen from time to time."

Harry frowned slightly.

"I will prove it to you Harry, but we’ll need to break a few things. These cups are far too nice for that, so we’ll wait until term starts, shall we?" Dumbledore said smiling. "You may receive another warning letter from the Ministry, Harry, but that should be the end of it."

"Well, I must be going," said Dumbledore standing. "Thank you for the tea. I’ll be seeing you shortly." He turned to Harry and smiled. "I do hope you enjoy your telling off. I asked Miss Granger not to argue with anything you said during the storm in case you either got more upset or lost interest in what was happening outside. I suspect, however, she will still have quite a few words of admonishment. She certainly had quite a few for me!"

Dumbledore gave a slight nod to Mr and Mrs Granger and Disapparated in silence.

"What is it, Harry?" asked Mrs Granger.

"That was the first time I’ve seen him properly since the night Sirius was killed," said Harry. "I said some things I wanted to apologise for."

Mrs Granger placed a hand on Harry’s arm and said gently, "He knows."

Mr Granger smiled and said, "You’ll have plenty of other opportunities, Harry. He probably just didn’t want to risk another telling off from Hermione so soon."

"I’m glad those Ministry people didn’t modify our memories," said Mrs Granger, pouring them all fresh cups of tea.

"How do you know they didn’t?" asked Mr Granger.

"Oh, don’t start that again," said Mrs Granger with a sigh. "Your shirt was in your shirt drawer. It’s been a shirt drawer ever since we’ve been married. Just because you can’t remember where your shirt drawer is and have to rifle through all my drawers before giving up and asking me, doesn’t mean your memory was modified."

"If I ever had a shirt drawer," Mr Granger began with a small smile to Harry; "it certainly wasn’t that one. I also have reason to believe the Ministry moved my sock drawer too!"

"Well, that still wouldn’t explain why you are wearing odd socks again, would it, dear?"

As they continued their morning banter, an owl flew in through the open rear door and dropped a scroll in front of Harry before wheeling around and exiting. He realised it must be his Ministry warning. He picked up the scroll but was surprised to see it just addressed "Harry."

Dear Harry,

I’ve just come away from the impromptu AMRS celebration to write this note. Mathalda is still a bit tipsy so I volunteered to write your official reprimand. I hope you don’t mind the liberty, it’s just that she was trying to use a Troll pet licence form. At some point she appears to have realised that something was amiss and thankfully it was I that she consulted about what type of Troll she should send you.

I regret to inform you that several departments will have to seek additional funding and increased personnel on the strength of last night’s events. You never know, we might even get a window!

Seriously, though, the Minister isn’t happy. We resolved a major magical catastrophe before his Office even knew anything had happened! Their aspersions that we must have had prior warning are entirely unproven and we have taken full credit for the total lack of injuries and the record clean-up time.

Enjoy your holiday!

Yours,

Arthur Weasley

PS Please give our kind regards to the Grangers. Hope to see you all again shortly.

Harry looked up to find Mrs Granger reprimanding her husband.

"What if someone notices? Don’t you think it rather improbable that our car should go from dented and scratched to immaculate overnight?"

"The car was damaged in the storm, wasn’t it? I just let them get on with fixing the damage. Arthur distracted me by quizzing me about a surfboard he’d found in next door’s garden. By the time I’d got back, they’d moved on. I couldn’t call them back to put dents in, could I?"

Harry smiled and handed the note to Mrs Granger, who read it with interest. Mr Granger seemed glad she’d become distracted and quickly made his escape.

"Well, that was thoughtful of him," said Mrs Granger. "That nice Kingsley Shacklebolt joked last night that they’d be asking for more people. I asked why when they’d coped with everything very well. He admitted the Aurors and quite a few other Departments were helping out strictly unofficially after Arthur had told them the scale of the damage."

"How long did it last?" asked Harry curiously.

"The storm lasted only about twenty minutes, I suppose, but the masonry was floating about for a good three hours before they got everything sorted."

"I do vaguely remember dreaming about some floating walls," Harry said trying to remember.

"Those Accidental Magic wizards were hopeless. They arrived really quickly then just panicked. It was the shear scale of things they couldn’t cope with. It was only when Arthur turned up and started giving orders that things started happening."

"Not Dumbledore?" asked Harry.

"Oh no," said Mrs Granger. "He told us before that he wouldn’t show himself unless things really got out of hand. He wanted them to believe in themselves."

She turned to him with watery eyes and hugged him gently again.

"Dumbledore was so proud of you, Harry," she whispered. "He couldn’t believe you managed to protect everyone like that. He warned us that the house might come down, but even he didn’t expect the whole neighbourhood to be affected."

"I can’t believe you invited me here knowing what might happen."

"Dumbledore thought we were taking an unnecessary risk too, to be honest, despite Hermione’s protests. But you know, when I was your age, I smashed an antique vase that belonged to my mother. It was a complete accident. I was aiming for the window but in my temper I lost control. These things are just part of growing up. I thought a bit of mayhem and loss of control would be good for you, that’s all."

"I thought I’d got smashing things out of my system."

"Dumbledore mentioned you’d made a start, but his relief that you’d vented some of your emotions this morning was palpable. Hermione’s going to be so jealous when she sees your study list for next year."

"Why?"

At that moment there was a light tap on glass. Harry and Mrs Granger broke apart to see a smiling Professor McGonagall just outside the open door leading to the rear garden.

"Minerva! Welcome, come in please!" said Mrs Granger, going over and kissing her.

Professor McGonagall smiled and answered Harry’s question saying, "Well she’ll only have her NEWT subjects, won’t she? From what Professor Dumbledore hinted at, it sounded like he’ll be teaching you several more subjects personally."

She turned to Mrs Granger and said, "I do hope you’ll excuse my coming unannounced. It’s just that the storm was all over the Daily Prophet and the friend I was staying with insisted we come and see before we go shopping, even though there’s nothing left to see."

Harry’s heart sank. He didn’t want to be in the stinking Daily Prophet.

"Don’t worry," said Professor McGonagall, "you don’t get a mention. It was just an unexplained phenomenon, apparently. The story is all about the heroics of Arthur Weasley’s leadership. If he’s not careful he’ll be promoted."

Harry smiled and turned the kettle on.

"Would you like tea or coffee?" asked Mrs Granger.

"Nothing, thank you, Jane. I just wanted to invite you along. Nothing special, but hair in Hogsmeade, clothes in Diagon Alley and lunch in Paris."

"Wonderful," squealed Mrs Granger. In an instant, she was back with her coat and they were gone.

The note left on the table read simply, "Gone with Minerva to spend the dent fixing fund! Don’t wait up."

Harry quietly made his way back into the living room. Through the wide front windows he could see an unusually large number of people dressed in an odd assortment of clothes, each obviously trying to be inconspicuous as they walked through the area.

Mr Granger was outside, halfway through washing his gleaming motor car. He’d become engaged in conversation with a neighbour. The neighbour appeared to be showing Mr Granger his garden hose that appeared to have a tap at the wrong end.

Across the road a small boy was being told off. It sounded like the replacement pane his father had just bought was no longer required. The boy looked just as confused but did offer to break the glass again if it would help.

Hermione stirred on the settee in front of him. He looked down and realised she had been looking at him intently. There was no sign of his sleepy Hermione this morning. Analytical, alert and argumentative Hermione was awake early.

He smiled down at her and said, "Morning. I’ll start breakfast, shall I?"

She sat up and gathered the blanket around her. After a brief pause, she got up and went straight upstairs to shower and change. Harry was only a little disappointed she hadn’t spoken to him yet, but he knew she had things other than pleasantries on her mind.

A small cloud moved across the sun as she left the room. It was going to be a long day. Harry hurried himself to wash at the utility room sink so he wouldn’t keep Hermione waiting.

*

"Stop smirking at me, Harry. I mean it!"

Harry’s smirk grew into a grin. At this, Hermione’s frown once again turned into an embarrassed smile.

Hermione wasn’t finding it quite as easy to rant and rage at Harry, as she had with Dumbledore. The way Mr Granger had told it, Dumbledore had politely listened to all of Hermione’s points and counter-points. Her fury was only stemmed when Dumbledore told her he understood why she felt guilty about not speaking her mind to him last summer. Dumbledore apologised but said he would not have listened then, but he would now.

Whilst Harry would have liked a little longer to quiz Mr Granger, the few minutes they spoke before Hermione returned downstairs had been very enlightening. They had clearly been expecting him to cause some kind of commotion and plans had been in place to deal with them as soon as possible. The more Harry thought about it, the more incredulous he was that they’d all been so relaxed in his presence.

Mr Granger had also hinted at the rules Dumbledore had laid down, or rather negotiated with Hermione and her mother, as a condition of his being allowed to stay. Harry honestly hadn’t noticed any restrictions at all, although he had assumed that the Order would still be keeping an eye on him.

Harry felt he’d got off reasonably lightly so far, all-in-all. Hermione had spent all morning and most of the afternoon telling him off. He really couldn’t believe the detail she could remember nor how many counter-points she could find. He felt he might have stopped her sooner, but then he would have to tell her about the prophecy.

She had just told him about how she’d demanded to see Dumbledore to give him a piece of her mind. Of course, Hermione hadn’t admitted any such thing without considerable coaxing from Harry. It was quite a while before Hermione truly realised the extent that Harry knew about it.

Gradually the smiles faded from their faces.

"Harry, I didn’t understand a couple of the things you mentioned last night."

"Only a couple?"

Hermione started to protest, clearly determined not to be put off.

"It’s okay, Hermione," he said in a whisper. "There are some things I’ve wanted to tell you for a while now."

She frowned slightly but said nothing.

"I learnt about the first thing on the night that Sirius was killed. Dumbledore portkeyed me back to his office and wouldn’t let me go until he’d told me a few things he probably should have told me a long time ago. It concerns why I have to return to my Aunt’s house every summer and the prophecy that got smashed."

"When I came here I was convinced that what he told me that night, as terrible as it was, would be the most important thing in my life from then onwards."

"You know what the prophecy was, don’t you?" said Hermione quietly.

"Yes, but there’s something more important I have to tell you first."

Hermione nodded and waited.

"Your mother asked me yesterday how I was going to tell you. I told you she caught me out. Anyway, I kind of told her and she said my plan was rubbish."

Hermione snorted and smiled at him. Her smile faltered when she saw the anguished expression on Harry’s face.

"Tell me the plan anyway," she whispered, taking his hand. In one movement she pushed him back against the settee, turned and lent back against his chest. She wrapped herself in his arm and waited for him to begin.

"Well first of all, somehow I was going to get you to tell me about some emotions. My emotions, to be precise."

Harry distinctly heard Hermione give a tut.

"That is a rubbish plan, Harry. But of course, I’ll make allowances, what with you being so thick and all."

They both laughed silently before Harry continued.

"Just try not to interrupt before I’ve made the point I’m trying to make, as opposed to the point you might think I’m making."

"That makes no sense, Harry."

"I’m so glad you’re a sensitive, understanding friend, you know?"

"Just get on with it, will you?"

Harry sighed deeply and closed his eyes.

"It’s taken me rather a long time to realise it, but I’ve finally worked out why I reacted the way I did at the Department of Mysteries. It was staying here with you that finally did it. You’d have worked it out straight away, of course. I had no idea. No reference point. No recollection of ever feeling or seeing anything like it. Your mother was quite shocked when she finally believed me."

Harry paused a moment before continuing.

"It was really just coincidence that I was up early on the first morning I was here. I love listening to the banter between your parents before they go to work. But the main reason, well, pretty much the only reason I get up so early is to make sure I don’t miss you. Every morning you come down for breakfast, not quite ready to face the day, and every morning I look forward to it more.

"Of course, every morning you eventually wake up enough to notice me staring at you and then you disappear for a while. That’s when the sun isn’t quite as bright. Anyway, I soon realised something that I’d experienced for ages without knowing it. You never fail to cheer me up just by entering the same room as me. I also feel a little sadder and a little more insecure when you leave without me.

"At the Department of Mysteries I just went to pieces. Neville was the one with the piece of mind to check for your pulse. I panicked. I couldn’t go on. What was the point? I realise now that there would not have been any point at all."

Harry glanced down. Hermione was oddly still and quiet.

"Harry, can I ask you something?"

"Of course," he said gently.

"Suppose I didn’t feel quite the same way you do?"

"I don’t have the right to any expectations," he replied without hesitation. "As a friend it felt wrong to keep my feelings from you, especially as those feelings are certain to affect how I treat you. My problem was finding a way to tell you, so I just bottled everything up."

"That’s a strange way to ask anyone to be their girlfriend, Harry."

"I’m not asking that, and I won’t. I don’t want anyone else to know my feelings, apart from your parents, and that’s only because they know already. It’s too dangerous."

"Dumbledore knows too, actually."

"How?" Harry asked indignantly.

"Well, during a calmer period when we, er, exchanged our views, he told me you would be quite thick when it came to your emotions. He said you would have no recollection of ever experiencing motherly love, and that must affect you. Not in what you feel, but it might leave you with an inability to recognise and act on new emotions."

"He called me thick?"

"No, Harry. I called you thick."

"That’s alright then, I think."

"Harry, I want to tell you something."

"Sure."

"I’m pretty hurt that you don’t want me for a girlfriend."

"I didn’t say I didn’t want to ask you, it’s just that I won’t ask. Not now anyway."

"But you might have done?"

"I would have done."

"In that case, I formally refuse to be your girlfriend," said Hermione, turning over and moving very close to his face. "and," she continued in a whisper, "if I catch you asking anyone else not to be your girlfriend there’ll be trouble." She leaned in and kissed him lightly on the lips.

"I’m so sorry, Hermione," he whispered.

"Me too," she breathed.

"Now I want to tell you about a prophecy," Harry continued.

*

"I’m afraid there’s one more thing," said Harry after a long silence.

It was now gone midnight and Hermione tensed up yet again.

"But this one we can fix," he added quickly.

"Go on then."

"Well the Accidental Magic Reversal Squad did a pretty good job on most things. Unfortunately, one item was permanently destroyed."

"What was it?"

"Most of your Hogwarts uniform," said Harry, "but I’ll pay for a new one when we get our books."

"Oh, is that all," said Hermione yawning widely. "Dad will be disappointed. He usually nicks my old ones and gets Mum to wear them."

END