Seventh Year Itch

Disclaimer:  It’s all hers, not mine.  If you think it’s mine, then I have this lovely bridge in Brooklyn that you might be interested in…

A/N: This is dedicated to my very good beta and even better friend, Cat.  I would never have had the guts to do this without her.  *waiting for the Gummy Bears to strike*

~*~*~

Dear Hermione,

Glad to hear your summer is going well.  As you can imagine, mine isn’t all wine and roses at the Dursleys, although now that I’m taller than Dudley, he seems not to threaten me as much.  It’s quite nice, really.  Of course, with the title of ‘Vanquisher of the Most Dangerous Lunatic in All of Wizardkind’ under my belt, Dudley gets scared if I step on a twig wrong or some rubbish like that.

Ron and his family just owled me – they want me to spend the last two weeks of summer vacation at the Burrow.  I was going to say yes, but I wanted to check if you would be going as well.  Ron mentioned writing to you, but he hadn’t heard back from you yet.  So will you be there?  It wouldn’t be the same without both of my best friends there.

Please owl me back soon, but first tell Ron you’ll join us at his house.

Love,

Harry

P.S. Ron said he’d save some garden gnomes for Crookshanks to chase if you come, which I know you will.

Hermione Granger smiled to herself as she read her friend’s letter once again.  Then, she set the parchment down and went to sit on her bed beside an unmoving lump of ginger fur.  “Well, Crookshanks?” Hermione said, running a gentle hand over the animal’s back.  “What do you think?  Shall we go?”

In response, Crookshanks stretched his fat, little legs and yawned widely.  He gazed at his mistress with a bored expression that said something to the effect of “It’s up to you.”

Hermione sighed and rolled her eyes at her cat.  “I know, I know, it’s my decision.”  She picked up Harry’s letter again and took another glance at it.  Something about the way he wrote his letter…there seemed to be a slight joking quality about it.  Ever since he had defeated Voldemort at the end of their sixth year (with the help of the Order of the Phoenix, the staff of Hogwarts, his fellow students, and most importantly, Hermione and Ron, that is), Harry had lightened up.  No longer did he feel the pressure of the entire Wizarding World on his shoulders.  Granted, he had suffered from the losses of his parents and godfather, but he used the love he felt for them, combined with his self-righteous anger at Voldemort for all of the fear and terror he caused, to his advantage – the Dark Lord never stood a chance.

Hermione sighed and shook her head slightly.  There was no need to focus on the past; Voldemort was long gone, and Harry now had the opportunity to just be a teenager (which was long overdue, in Hermione’s opinion).  Moving back towards her bed from her desk, she looked down at her beloved pet who, upon seeing her approach, promptly flipped onto his back, expecting her to scratch his stomach.  “You’re a spoiled cat, Crookshanks,” Hermione quipped, easing onto the mattress and fulfilling the cat’s unspoken request.  “Belly rubs and garden gnomes to chase.  Do you always get what you want?”

Crookshanks simply closed his eyes and let out a satisfied meow.

Hermione grinned and pushed herself off her bed.  “I’d better go downstairs and ask Mum and Dad if it’s okay for me to go.”

Before she could leave her room, a quick rap against her window pulled her back.  Startled, Hermione turned towards the glass to find a tiny Scops owl circling madly around outside.  “Pig?” she said aloud while going over to open the window.

As soon as he was able, Pigwidgeon zoomed into the room and nearly hit the wall on the other side.  He gave a high-pitched hoot as Hermione managed to save him from a head-on collision with a framed picture.

The sight of Ron’s owl made Hermione smile as she gently untied and removed the letter from Pig’s leg.  She broke up an owl treat for him, and while he ate, she unrolled the parchment and immediately laughed out loud.

HERMIONE,

PLEASE SAVE ME FROM MY BROTHER THE GIT.  HE’S DRIVING ME NUTS.  I NEED ANOTHER FEMALE AT THE BURROW!

GINNY

~~~

Hermione,

Please excuse my little prat sister’s note at the beginning of this letter.  I’m writing again to see if you will be coming to the Burrow at the end of the summer.  I know I’ve owled you before, but with Pig being the way he is (you know what I mean), I didn’t know if you had actually received my letters since I never heard back.  Ginny’s been banging around here, saying, “There’s not enough Xs in this Y-dominated house!”  None of us can figure out what she’s on about, so Mum specifically requested for you to come here and help.

Harry told me he had written to you as well; we invited him, too, but he hasn’t said either way if he’s coming or not.  Think of it, Hermione: the three of us (okay, maybe Ginny as well), just hanging out, enjoying the rest of the summer before our last year at Hogwarts.  Doesn’t that sound like fun?

Harry said he wouldn’t say yes or no until he hears from you, so feel free to use Pig to send him a letter, too.  I told Pig to wait until you were completely ready to send your letters, but then again, it’s PIG, so hopefully he’s still there.

Answer us soon; Ginny says she’s “going batty,” but I don’t think she hexed herself.

Cheers,

Ron

“Those Weasleys will never change,” Hermione said to herself.  She suddenly felt a strong emotional pull towards her friends; she missed them.  She wanted to see them.  Hurrying out of her room, she flew down the stairs with her letters in her hand.  “Mum?  Dad?” Hermione called out as she reached the first floor of her house.  “Where are you?”

“In the kitchen, dear,” came a voice from Hermione’s left.

Hermione turned sharply on her left foot and skidded to a stop on the kitchen’s tiled floor.  “Mum, Dad, can I ask you something?”

Mrs. Granger, who was standing at the stove, flashed a smile at her only child.  “Sure, dear.  What is it?”

“Well, Harry, Ron, and Ginny all wrote to me and asked if I could spend the last two weeks of summer vacation at the Burrow.”  She waved her letters as if to give proof.  “May I?”

Mr. Granger, who had been sitting at the table reading the newspaper, lowered the section he was scanning and looked at his daughter.  “Hermione, we’ve barely had any free time with you while you’ve been home for the summer.  Can’t you wait until September first and see them on the train?”

“But, Dad, this is my last year at Hogwarts.  We’ll have all the summers after I’m done to spend together.”  Hermione crossed the room, slipped into the chair next to her father, and cuddled up close to him.  “Please, Dad?” she cooed, batting her eyelashes at him for good measure.

Mrs. Granger laughed at Hermione’s antics.  “Darling,” she said to her husband, “she does have a point, you know.  We didn’t have anything planned for the rest of the summer anyway; we’re too busy at the office, remember?  We might as well say yes.”

Mr. Granger sighed and took off his glasses.  “Oh, all right.  Go ahead; tell your friends you’ll be coming.  Just let us know how you’re supposed to get there, okay?”

Hermione’s face lit up as she shot out of her chair.  “Oh, thank you!”  She kissed her father on his cheek then darted over to her mother and hugged her around her waist.  “You were right, Mum,” she said, bouncing excitedly on her tiptoes.  “Dad fell for the batting-the-eyelashes trick you told me about.”

“What?”  Mr. Granger sat up straight in his chair and set his newspaper to the side.  “Excuse me, young lady,” he addressed Hermione, “but what do you mean, I ‘fell for the batting-the-eyelashes trick’?”

“Oh, that,” Hermione answered with a cheeky grin.  “Well, Mum and I were talking a few nights ago, and she told me that if there’s something that she wants from you and you don’t want to do it, she just bats her eyelashes like this,” she demonstrated the action perfectly, “and you can’t say no to her.”  She hugged the slim form of her mother’s body again.  “So, thanks again, Mum; you too, Dad.  I’m going to owl Harry and the others right now.”

As their daughter ran out of the room, Mrs. Granger pursed her lips to hide her smile from her husband, but it didn’t stop the snort of laughter that managed to escape.  Hearing it, Mr. Granger rose from the table and went to stand next to his wife.  “You told Hermione that I can’t say no when you bat your eyelashes at me?” he asked for clarification.

“Oh, honey,” Mrs. Granger sighed, turning around to run her fingers through her husband’s salt-and-pepper hair.  “We were just joking around with each other.  It’s not like we were making fun of you.”

“I know, but still,” he protested, “isn’t it strange, giving your daughter tips on how you get your husband to do things?”

“You never know,” she responded cryptically before turning back to the stove.  “She may need it sooner than later.”

Mr. Granger did a double take then tugged gently on his wife’s bushy brown hair.  “Do you know something I don’t?” he asked suspiciously.

“Well, let’s just say that I think our daughter may have feelings for a certain young man,” she explained.

Mr. Granger’s bright brown eyes widened so much that when Mrs. Granger glanced at him over her shoulder for his reaction, she thought they could have popped out of his head.  “What?” he cried, now starting to pace the floor.  “Who is it?  How do you know?  Did Hermione say something to you?”

“Honey, calm down.”  Mrs. Granger turned the stove off and followed her husband back to the table.  Sitting down across from him, she took one of his large, tanned hands between her slim-fingered ones.  “You didn’t notice that when Hermione told us that she had been invited to the Burrow for the rest of the summer, she mentioned Harry’s name first; he doesn’t even live at the Burrow.  Second, when we said it was okay for her to go and she was leaving the room, she said she was going to owl her friends, but she mentioned only Harry by name.”

“So you think…”

“That our Hermione might fancy that young Harry Potter,” she finished simply.

“And you’re sure of that?”

“A mother knows her daughter, dear.  Hermione may not know it herself, but I think she’ll find out this year.”

“You know too much,” Mr. Granger stated with a wink.

“So we know where Hermione gets it from,” Mrs. Granger replied, flashing her gleaming, even smile at her husband.  “Now, if you wouldn’t mind, could you please set the table for lunch?  As soon as Hermione sends her letters to her friends, we can eat.”

Meanwhile, oblivious to the exchange happening downstairs, Hermione rushed back into her room to find not one, not two, but three pets there.  Crookshanks, who was still lying on the bed, was eyeing a frantically circling Pig near the ceiling.  Pig was hooting excitedly because of the newest arrival: Hedwig was perched quietly on Hermione’s desk, rolling her large, amber eyes at the overexcited owl at the top of the room.

“Hedwig!”  Hermione grinned as the snowy owl turned her head and hooted in greeting.  As Hermione sat down, Hedwig held out her leg to show the letter that she had brought.  “Thank you, Hedwig,” Hermione said, removing the parchment.  She opened her desk drawer and rummaged around for another owl treat, which she gave to Hedwig as she read the new letter.

Dear Hermione,

Since I haven’t received a response from my first letter to you, I’m sending another one along with Hedwig.  Wait.  Now that I think about it, there’s no way you could have owled me back with your answer if Hedwig came back home after delivering my first letter; you don’t have an owl.

Great.  Having to live with Dudley at Privet Drive is making me stupid.

Anyway, I was thinking, if you and I are both going to the Burrow for the end of the summer, why don’t we go together?  I mean, why have the Weasleys go to two different places to get us, right?  There’s no way the Dursleys will take me anywhere, and after the fiasco when Ron and the others came by to get me for the Quidditch World Cup, Uncle Vernon would flip over having them come back, even if is means I’m leaving.  So here’s my proposition: if you and your parents (provided it’s okay with them) could come by to pick me up and bring me back to your place, we can have Mr. Weasley connect your fireplace to the Floo Network so we can Floo to the Burrow.  That way, we can save their family two whole trips!

You know, I’m offering all this so you’ll say yes.  Is it working?

Please send Hedwig back with a reply soon.  In the meantime, I think Dinky Dudders (or whatever ridiculous name Aunt Petunia uses for him now) needs me to remind him who’s boss around here; I should go find a twig.

Love,

Harry

Hermione laughed out loud; she definitely couldn’t wait to see her friends again, and Harry’s plan for them to get to the Burrow did seem like a good one.  Spreading out her letters in front of her, she reached for some blank parchments, a quill, and an inkpot to start writing.

Dear Ron and Ginny,

Before I truly begin, let me just say this: Ginny, your brother is not a git.  Ron, your sister is not a prat.  However, I think you’re both bonkers.  Just kidding.

I’m sorry I haven’t written sooner, but I’ve been helping out at Mum and Dad’s office to earn some extra spending money.  There are a few books I’d like to buy at Diagon Alley before school starts again.  (I know you’re rolling your eyes at me, Ron.  Go ahead and get it out of your system now.)  Anyway, I would love to spend the last two weeks of summer vacation at the Burrow.  I’ve just asked Mum and Dad, and they’ve said it’s fine.

I did hear from Harry, and he suggested that my parents and I pick him up, bring him to my house, then the two of us can Floo from here to the Burrow; that way, your family doesn’t have to make an extra effort to get us.  If your dad can hook us up to the Floo Network, I’ll run it past my parents, but I’m sure they’ll be fine with it.

Let me know as soon as you can.  See you in a few weeks!

Cheers,

Hermione

P.S. Ron, you’d really better save some garden gnomes for Crookshanks, or else he’ll be very mad at you.

Hermione scanned the letter quickly and smiled.  “Yes, they’re both bonkers,” she murmured as she set it aside to dry.  Then, she pulled another piece of parchment towards her and began the second letter she would be sending that day.

Dear Harry,

I’ve received both of your letters; you think you always have the solution to everything, don’t you?  You’ll never change.  However…as much as I hate to admit it, you were right: yes, I’ll be going to the Burrow (my parents said okay), and goodness!  You’ve actually come up with a good idea for us to get there!  (Don’t let that go to your head, Harry.  I know you.)  I’m sending a letter to Ron and Ginny telling them that I’ll be coming, as well as how you and I will get there.  You might want to send them a letter yourself; I didn’t go into much detail.

About Dudley and your aunt and uncle: don’t let them get you down, Harry.  They don’t and will never understand how important you are to so many people.  They’ll never know how special you truly are.  If I were you, I’d go out and step on more than just a few twigs just to get Dudley’s goat, but that’s just me.

Anyway, take care of yourself for the next few weeks, and we’ll see each other again soon.  I know I’m looking forward to it!

Hermione read her writing again, not completely sure of how to end the letter.  She took another look at the letters that Harry had sent her.  “Oh, well,” she said to herself, shrugging her shoulders, “might as well sign it the same way.”

Love,

Hermione

“There.”  She put her quill down and set Harry’s letter off to her left.  She then signaled for Pig to land on her desk so she could tie her letter to Ron and Ginny to his leg.  Once she did, she watched as Pig circled madly about her room again then flew out the window before calling for Hedwig to repeat her actions with Harry’s letter.  As the snowy owl left, Hermione rose from her chair and walked over to her bed to stretch out beside her cat.  “Well, Crookshanks,” she said, scratching his full belly one more time, “this will certainly be an interesting year, if those letters are to serve as a sign of what’s to come.”  She chuckled to herself.  “Then again, I’ve never been a big believer in Divination.”