Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, so there!
A/N: First, foremost, and always, thanks to my beta MapleMountain. Thank you!
Second, sorry this chapter took so long. As originally planned, I was already on page 20 of this chapter when I realized it needed to be split up, or else it would never get finished. So I found a perfect stopping point on page 14. But, the up side at least is that Chapter 11 is now already half done! Yay!
Chapter 10. The Weeks that Followed, Act One: The Second Day.
It was a dark and stormy night. Mother Nature, it seems, had decided that this was to be the last night England would enjoy the cool breezes of a summer storm (at least as far as the seven day forecast predicted); she would make it a night to remember. Though there still was no precipitation, those who were awake (and light sleepers) were treated to a beautiful display of lightning with an impressive accompaniment of thunder. Harry Potter however, soundly slept through it in his new temporary home.
Before sleep (and the storm) arrived, Harry lay there on his bed, waiting for his exhaustion to overtake him. He didn't know how long he would be with the Grangers. As he thought about it, he realized that he wasn't in any rush to leave.
On one hand, leaving would most certainly mean returning to Grimmauld Place. Even if he was ready to face Sirius's house (which he wasn't), going there meant having to intrude upon Ron and his family. Harry knew that he was a large factor in Percy's estrangement from his family. He still thought of Percy as a big enough prat that that knowledge didn't cause him to lose any sleep. Still, he had no desire to gloat over him, nor did he wish to risk impeding any possible mending with his presence. No, he was quite content to stay where he was.
And on the other hand, Harry WAS quite content to stay where he was. He had simply enjoyed himself too much today to want to leave any time soon. Deep down, he knew that today was probably something of an exaggeration of how things would be from here on out. Today was the first day. Harry was getting settled in and everyone was just getting to know each other.
That evening, right before her silent conversation with Hermione that had something to do with Harry's door being left open (Oh, Harry realized), Emma had told Harry "Tomorrow is another day, and there are plenty more after that." Harry knew that if the days that followed were even half as good as today, he was probably in for the best summer of his life. And it was with that thought that Harry finally fell asleep.
Harry awoke the following morning to a most wondrous smell. Bacon! his mind shouted. For the briefest of moments, he had to look around to remember where he was. It was a rare occasion when he woke up to the smell of food. Back on Privet Drive, he was almost always the one cooking it to wake up his relatives. At Hogwarts, the Great Hall was too far away for the aromas to make it up to Gryffindor Tower. In fact, the only way food really played a factor in Harry's awaking there was when Ron roused him in his eagerness to get to breakfast.
The only times he did remember waking up to such a wonderful smell was with Ron and his family, either at the Burrow or Grimmauld Place. Harry imagined that right at this very moment, the entire Weasley family was sitting around the table in Sirius's house, silently eating their breakfast. He suspected that every few minutes, someone would shoot a furtive glance Percy's way, all the while Mrs. Weasley would glare daggers at whoever was the last person to try to start a row.
Until Mr. and Mrs. Weasley said that it was okay to have visitors, however, Harry wasn't going to dwell on it too much. This was something that he knew they had to work out on their own. They at least all had each other to lean upon. It suddenly struck Harry that he was in a similar situation, though for different reasons. While he didn't have any blood family who would be there for him, he knew he had something that was every bit as good: his best friend and her family. A friend, he reasoned, did this by choice, not because of some genetic relation.
Speaking of people sitting around eating breakfast, Harry thought to himself as his stomach rumbled. It seemed as though his stomach was quickly becoming quite annoyed with him the longer he lay in bed while the seductive fragrance of frying pig flesh relentlessly assaulted his senses.
In a flash, Harry was up and out of bed. He grabbed a set of his new clothes and headed for the bathroom for a quick shower. Before entering the hall however, he quickly checked to make sure Hermione was still down in the kitchen. He wasn't quite ready for her to see him in his present condition. He expected that the sight of him first thing in the morning would likely give her or anyone else cause to scream.
With the coast clear, he dashed into the bathroom. After a refreshing and relaxing shower, Harry dressed and stared at the mop on top of his head. Just for once, he wished it would behave itself. As he combed it, it actually seemed to tame itself (a little), though he assumed that was probably because it was still wet.
Finally certain he was decent for human eyes (though he wasn't entirely sure why he cared so much today), he finally headed downstairs for breakfast. As he entered the kitchen, Hermione was just plating up the last of the eggs out of the frying pan. On the table were plates of toast and the eagerly anticipated bacon.
As she turned to take the last plate to the table, Hermione saw Harry standing in the doorway. "Well, good morning. I see your stomach woke you this morning. Just in time for breakfast, huh?" she teased with a smirk.
Harry tilted his head from side to side, neither confirming nor denying the assessment. "Need help with anything?" he asked as approached the table.
"Just grab some glasses, would you? Second door on the right," she indicated, nodding towards the cupboards on the wall.
Harry looked at the coffee mugs and glasses in the cupboard. "What do you want?" he asked her. "I don't suppose you have any pumpkin juice here, do you?"
"No," Hermione confirmed, "just coffee, tea, milk, and orange juice. That's what I'm having. Would you grab me a glass please?"
Deciding orange juice would be nice also, Harry grabbed two glasses and returned to the table. After setting the plate of eggs down on the table, Hermione headed over to the refrigerator to retrieve the orange juice. "There's strawberry jam here if you want any for your toast," she told Harry.
"Yes please," Harry replied with a little more enthusiasm than he intended. Once the table was equipped with all the necessary essentials (jam, salt, pepper, silverware, etc.), Harry and Hermione sat down to enjoy their breakfast. With loaded plates, they dug in.
When their plates were finally clear, Harry sat back in his chair to enjoy the afterglow of a wonderful breakfast. "I don't know about you, but that was certainly the best breakfast I've had in weeks."
Though she was still looking down at her plate, Harry could see a small smile form on Hermione's face. She looked up at him as the smile continued to grow. "Thanks," she replied.
"And while we're on that topic, dinner last night was absolutely brilliant! Thank you. Remind me to thank your mum too." Hermione must not have been one to take such compliments lightly, for a slight blush appeared as she smiled in an embarrassed sort of way.
"Thank you," she replied in a very small voice.
"I mean it," Harry assured her. "Hogwarts has never served anything like it, and since food like that doesn't come in fifty-pence cans, I never had it before at the Dursleys'. The two of you kept your backs to us the whole time. What did you make?" Harry asked.
"I made the chicken. Mum made the potatoes," Hermione explained. "Dad doesn't really care what we have, as long as she makes the potatoes."
"They were very good. You know, at school and at the Dursleys', they always remove the skins from the potatoes. But leaving them on and mashing them in made it different. I really liked it." Harry paused for a moment. "You made the chicken?" he asked with an obvious look of wonder on his face.
"Yes. Did you like it?" Hermione asked very anxiously.
"I already said it, but yes, it was brilliant!" Harry looked at Hermione appraisingly for a moment. "You know, it's not that I didn't think you could cook, it's just that I never knew you did."
A determined smile appeared on Hermione's face. "I don't know why some people assume I can't cook. It's no different than making a potion. You just add the proper ingredients in the proper quantities, in the proper sequence, following the proper cooking instructions."
"How very proper of you," Harry teasingly interjected.
"The nice thing about cooking," Hermione explained after rolling her eyes and sticking her tongue out at him, "is that you rarely have to worry about a tomato sauce exploding and setting the house on fire if you start experimenting with the recipe."
"That and you don't have our illustrious Potions Master sweeping over you," Harry added dramatically, "looking positively disappointed because it was just right... not too chunky, not too watery."
"And that too," Hermione agreed. She got up and took her plate and Harry's to the dishwasher. After Harry brought over the silverware and glasses, Hermione spoke as she dried her hands after washing them. "So, tomorrow you're making breakfast, right?"
"Cereal it is," Harry agreed with a big grin. Hermione threw the dish towel at him (which he caught deftly thanks to his Seeker skills).
The kitchen now clean, Hermione leaned against the counter. "So... did you have any plans for today?" she asked in way-too-casual voice, which Harry immediately noticed. Hearing the fake innocence in her voice, he knew where this was leading. He wanted to be able to give her some witty comeback, just to sound clever. Unfortunately, for the life of him he could not think of one.
"Not really," he answered lamely. "I had my fill of 'brooding' and 'staring at the ceiling' back on Privet, so I'm quite ready for a change. Somehow I doubt we can go shopping everyday." Right as he finished the sentence, his mind suddenly screamed out World domination! World domination! Damn... too late! Oh well, maybe next time.
"Well," Hermione started slowly, as if testing the waters, "if you didn't have anything better to do, how about we get started on our homework?"
Bingo! Harry thought to himself with a smile. Sure enough, Hermione was true to her word from yesterday about waiting until today to start in on their homework (not that he ever really doubted her).
Homework-wise, Harry was very glad that this was the summer after O.W.L. exams. Since sixth-year class selections couldn't be made until after O.W.L. results were delivered, Harry only had Charms and Defense Against the Dark Arts homework so far. These were the two classes that all sixth-years would be taking in one form or another, regardless of their O.W.L. results.
The bulk of the spells a witch or wizard used in everyday life were learned in Charms. As a result, it was standard for all students to take Charms for all seven years (some at the N.E.W.T. standard, some not). Similarly, it had been decided many years ago (coincidently right around the time of Voldemort's first rise to power) that Defense Against the Dark Arts was also a subject that all students would take for the entirety of their Hogwarts career.
Considering he was expecting this, and since he had decided the day before that doing his homework was a fair price to pay for getting away from his oh-so-loving relatives, Harry immediately answered without hesitation. "Okay."
Hermione immediately continued on. "Come on, Harry. We only have Charms and Defense Against the Dark Arts. If we get it done now, we'll have the rest..." her voice trailed off when she realized Harry had agreed. "Oh! You said yes..." Harry smiled and nodded; Hermione looked slightly embarrassed.
Hermione began to look slightly uncomfortable for having pleaded with Harry to start his homework without really focusing on his answer first. He started to head toward the stairs. "I'm going to bring down my books and things," he told her, just to get the conversation moving again.
Still slightly out of sorts, Hermione merely nodded then followed him upstairs. Entering his room, Harry noticed that Hedwig had not yet returned. He walked over to his desk and retrieved his books and writing supplies. After setting out a couple owl treats next to her cage, Harry went downstairs.
Deciding that if he was going to do his homework, he would at least be comfortable, Harry went into the living room. He pulled the coffee table closer to the sofa. After moving the TV listings and remote to the far end of the table so he could spread out his stuff, he then sat down on one end of the sofa. A few minutes after he was settled and comfortable, Hermione came down the stairs. A moment later, he heard her sigh. Looking up, he noticed she was standing in front of the coffee table, looking at him.
"What?" he asked.
"Nothing," Hermione replied. "It's just you're sitting where I usually do if I don't do my homework in my room," she explained after she sat down on the love seat to his side.
"Yeah, well first-come, first-served," Harry teased in as friendly a voice as he could. He knew that could be taken the wrong way, but since she sat down before she told him about the seat, he assumed it wasn't that big of a deal.
Pulling out his parchment and quill, Harry realized that the quill was still clogged with the dried ink from his letter writing the other day. Staring at the end of it, he asked Hermione if she had a penknife he could use to cut a new tip.
"Sorry, no penknives," she said, "but you can just use one of the knives in the kitchen. That's what I do." Harry got up and headed to the kitchen. Pulling a knife out of the rack, he expertly trimmed the nib and then went back to the living room. Upon his return, he found that Hermione had shifted all of his stuff to the love seat and reclaimed her favorite spot on the sofa.
She was intently staring her Charms book (her eyes weren't moving as if reading), failing miserably at hiding the large Cheshire Cat grin on her face. Harry stood over her for a moment, watching her intently. As the seconds passed by, she began to bite her lower lip to stifle her impending laugh.
When he could tell that she was about to lose control, he huffed once. "Well!" he objected in as offended a voice as he could produce. As he sat down, he looked back over at Hermione.
She had finally looked up from her book and put on a very innocent looking expression. "Finders keepers," she explained.
"This isn't over, Miss Granger. Not by a long shot," Harry promised.
"We'll see, Mister Potter. We will see," Hermione challenged.
With the two of them now both overcome by wide grins, they finally set about to their homework. By lunch time, Harry had made it through about a third of his assigned Charms reading. As they ate the sandwiches Harry made for lunch, Hermione updated Harry on the developments he had missed in his self-imposed seclusion.
"So you really didn't hear anything about Fudge and the new Minister?" Hermione asked incredulously between bites.
"Hermione, if it wasn't written on my ceiling or in a letter you wrote, then I don't know about it," Harry assured her.
"Well," Hermione began to explain, entering teaching mode, "about a week after we got back from school, a vote of no confidence was held with every member of the Ministry voting. Ever since the article came out about Voldemort's return at the Ministry, everyone had been stewing on everything that Fudge had or hadn't done since your trial last year. Inaction can be just as damaging as wrong action, Harry.
"You and Professor Dumbledore had been saying all along that Voldemort was back, but Fudge did everything he could to deny it, simply because he didn't want to believe it. So that, combined with the arrest of Lucius Malfoy, really tipped the scales against Fudge. According to one of the interviews in the Daily Prophet, there were very few people who did not remember seeing Malfoy and Fudge together at one point or another over the years.
"The vote was pretty overwhelming... four to one against him. Fudge was out. And all of his personal staff, as I mentioned. That was last Monday. By the end of the day, they had already short-listed a group of possible replacements. On Wednesday, Amelia Bones was elected. She'll serve the rest of Fudge's term, and then she'll be up for reelection."
"Susan Bones's aunt?" Harry asked, bewildered.
"Yeah," Hermione confirmed. "I hesitate to say that you had anything to do with it, since I know how much you enjoy that kind of attention... but..." Harry looked at Hermione with great anticipation (or was it dread?), "several people were quoted as saying that it was her treatment of you at your trial that swung their vote towards her instead of the other candidates.
"I mean, she already had a good record as Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement," Hermione explained, "so when the rank and file of Ministry staff went back and read the transcripts of your trial, people realized that she seemed to be very fair, very level-headed. They moved your trial, remember? The only ones who made it were the ones Fudge wanted or needed there," Hermione explained about people reading the transcripts.
"She seemed very nice," Harry said of Madam Bones, now Minister Bones, actually. "Have we heard anything of what she's going to do about Voldemort?"
"Not much yet. According to the Prophet, she's met with Professor Dumbledore twice already since being elected. The article made it sound like she means business. Apparently she took her successor as well as the new Head of Aurors with her to meet the headmaster. The new head of law enforcement is a man by the name of Rufus Scrimgeour. There wasn't much said about him. He used to be Head of the Auror office. They haven't publicly announced the new Head of Aurors. I suppose that's a position they don't publicize much, for fear of giving out too much personal information making him or her an easier target," Hermione theorized.
Harry took a few minutes to digest all of this new information (and his sandwich). "Well, we'll just have to wait and see how she does. Though I suppose most anything would be an improvement over Fudge," Harry quipped.
Seeing that Hermione was finished with her lunch, Harry gathered up the dishes and set them in the dishwasher. Before resuming his homework, there was one other thing Harry wanted to address. "Hermione?" he asked.
"Yeah?"
"Can I ask you a favor?" Harry asked timidly.
"Of course, Harry," Hermione assured him. "Anything."
"Erm... Well, please don't take this the wrong way... but I was hoping... that... I wouldn't have to..." Harry spluttered. "What I mean is that I know you said I was your guest here. But I would feel like I'm imposing if you asked me what I wanted for dinner every night. Maybe it's just ten years of the Dursleys talking."
Hermione looked at him quizzically, not sure what he was trying to say.
He paused for a second, took a deep breath, and started in again. "Look, you said we would try to have a normal summer, right?" Hermione nodded. "Well, isn't part of 'normal' having to eat whatever 'Mum' makes for dinner?"
Hermione grinned broadly and nodded. "Don't worry about it, Harry. I'll let Mum know you're to be treated like the rest of us when dinner time comes. But that doesn't mean she still won't ask. We all usually have some input on dinner one way or another. I'll just be sure to steer her away from anything I think you won't like."
"Perfect. That way," Harry reasoned, a grin on his face too, "if we have something I don't like, I can just blame you."
"Just for that," Hermione retorted, "I'll be sure we have bouillabaisse one of these nights. I remember quite well that you didn't seem too impressed with it back in fourth year when the students from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang were here. Or was that just because Fleur didn't ask you if you liked it?" Hermione asked with a calculating look on her face.
Considering the two of them had been going back and forth with the teasing, Harry assumed she was about to set him up for something big by bringing up Fleur now. He took the only way out he could see. Unfortunately it meant sacrificing his other best friend.
"No. If memory serves me, it was Ron who was drooling over Fleur (and the bouillabaisse, while she was standing there). Now me, on the other hand," Harry admitted with a sigh, "if I was drooling over anyone, it would have been Cho, who was sitting only a couple seats away from her. And memory serves me quite well, unfortunately, on that point."
Treated to another one of those horribly awkward moments when a conversation just dies completely, Harry decided that was a perfect time to resume to his homework. When the two of them returned to the living room, Hermione excused herself for a minute and headed upstairs. As she climbed the stairs, Harry stared at her seat on the sofa, a devilish grin on his face. His mind made up, he took a step towards the sofa.
"Don't you even think about moving my books, Harry James Potter!" Hermione called from out of sight, and then promptly closed the bathroom door. Quite dejected that his grand diabolical scheme had been thwarted before it even got off the ground, Harry unfortunately could think of no other way (for now) to exact revenge other than to wait to resume his reading until Hermione returned.
Hermione: 2. Harry: ¼, he tabulated to himself, awarding himself a quarter-point for the "delayed homework" thing.
Finally reaching the end of a particularly befuddling chapter (coincidently enough about Confounding Charms), Harry decided now was as good a time as any to take a break for a minute and (maybe, possibly, hopefully) convince Hermione it was time to call it a night, at least as far as homework was concerned.
Hermione had said that her parents would be home between 5:30 and 6:30, depending on traffic. Harry looked up at the clock; it was 5:45. Definitely time to stop, Harry told himself. Silently closing his book so as to not draw Hermione's attention (not yet, at least), he looked over to see where she was; they both had the same Charms homework assignment.
In the time it took him to get through nearly two-thirds of his reading, not only had Hermione finished all of hers, but she was already two paragraphs into her three-foot long essay. How does she do that? Harry secretly wondered, impressed.
For some reason even he didn't understand, he quietly watched her for a couple of minutes. At some point (most likely when she started writing), Hermione had moved off the sofa and was now sitting on the floor facing the coffee table. She had several rolls of new parchment in front of her and had started her essay.
While he had seen her doing homework for years, he had never actually watched her do it. This time, however... this time it seemed different somehow. Being alone with her, in her house, sitting across from her, watching her write... he felt as though he was seeing her in her element, her natural environment, like she was somehow now more "Hermione-like" than ever before. Whatever it was, he could not help but watch.
Fascinated, he watched as she wrote, the words flowing from her mind, the ink from her quill. He watched as at least once per sentence she crossed out a word and wrote something else. Mid-sentence, a lock of hair had fallen down out of place and must have obscured her vision, for she immediately tucked it back behind her left ear without even missing a beat in her writing.
The most interesting thing Harry observed (at least he thought so) was when, mid-paragraph, she crossed out an entire sentence. She then jumped down the page, leaving about two inches of blank parchment, and (he assumed) rewrote the sentence she had just crossed out. She then went back and resumed writing where she left off. She wrote until she reached that sentence. It must have been a better concluding sentence, he suspected.
Finished with the paragraph, Hermione set down her quill and suddenly looked up at Harry.
"What?" she asked with a slight smile, as though something about the situation was mildly amusing. "You've been watching me for the last few minutes."
"I have?" Harry asked, genuinely surprised. He knew full well that he had been watching her. And yet at the same time, he was still surprised that he had.
Hermione nodded. "Is something wrong?" she asked, suddenly becoming very self-conscious. "What? Is there something on my face?" She started brushing her hand across parts of her face as if trying to find something stuck to it.
"No, your face is perfect as always," Harry instantly replied (later that night he would replay that line again and again, wondering where that came from).
Hermione's smile returned. "What is it then?" she inquired. Something about all of this seemed amusing to her. Harry wished he knew what it was.
Feeling very on-the-spot, Harry could sense the blush that was creeping across his face. Partly embarrassed because he didn't know what to say or do, but mostly for simply getting caught staring at her, Harry's mind raced to figure out what to say. He knew the truth was going to be stranger than fiction. At the moment though, he couldn't think of any believable fiction, so he settled for the truth.
"Nothing. I was just watching you do your homework," Harry admitted. "I stopped reading for a minute after the last chapter, and happened to see you writing. Yes, yes, I know it's stupid, but for some reason, I just started watching... just for a minute."
Hermione considered Harry's answer for a moment. "Well, it's not stupid really, just... uncommon," she finally decided. "Did you learn anything?" she asked with a smile that conveyed a challenge.
Leave it to her to turn some brain freeze into a learning experience, Harry thought to himself with a laugh. "Well, I know that your first drafts are very messy, and that you sometimes write the last sentence of a paragraph before you write the middle of it." Harry thought back a little more. "Oh, and you chew on your lower lip when you cross out a word and are trying to think of a different word."
A smirk appeared on Hermione's face. "You know, you really ought to be careful about whom you watch that closely. Somehow I doubt Ron would appreciate it if you watched him closely enough to tell him what faces he makes when faking his way through his Divination homework. And I bet Malfoy'd just love to hear what he looks like when you catch the Snitch right out from under his nose."
Harry laughed a little at the memory of Malfoy's face the last time Harry caught the Snitch in a game (he'd seen, but not watched...). Returning her smirk, he teased her, "Oh, so it's okay that I watch you though, right?"
"Yep," she instantly replied with a big grin.
"I'll keep that in mind," Harry replied as he set his book on the coffee table. Hermione must have also decided that it was a good time to stop for the night, since she closed all of her books and started to tidy her rolls of parchment.
"There, that wasn't so bad, was it?" Hermione asked. "Your first day and you got, what, half way through your reading?"
"Two-thirds, actually," Harry corrected her, trying to sound proud of his accomplishment.
"You see? At this rate, we'll be done in a few days and then we'll be completely homework free until our O.W.L.s arrive," Hermione explained.
Harry was loath to admit it, but now that he was almost done with his Charms reading, the prospect of being completely homework free until his O.W.L.s arrived was becoming very appealing. There was also the little detail that he knew he would have a whole slug of new homework once he knew what classes he would be taking. And there was that little bit about a "fair price to pay."
After taking their homework back to their rooms, Harry and Hermione returned to the living room to watch TV until Dan and Emma returned home. Since his room was closer to the stairs, he was back down before she was. Seizing his opportunity, Harry reclaimed his favorite TV viewing spot from last night (which just happened to be Hermione's favorite homework spot).
Upon seeing Harry looking entirely too comfortable stretched out on the sofa, Hermione casually walked by him, giving him an appraising sort of look. When she was sure he wasn't going anywhere anytime soon, she walked by the coffee table (which Harry had returned to its original position) and immediately snatched up the television remote.
Damn! I forgot the remote, Harry swore to himself. Minus points for that. Hermione: 3. Harry: 0. I better stop counting while I'm still this close, Harry mused. It'll only get worse.
While he had never been allowed to touch the television remote at the Dursleys', he knew it was a great source of power in Muggle households. With a triumphant look on her face, Hermione immediately settled back into the love seat. She turned on the television and waited for her favorite show to come on... a little quiz show of American design called "Jeopardy!".
About five minutes before the show was to start, the phone rang. After double checking the time and staring longingly at the television, Hermione begrudgingly got up to answer the phone.
"Hello. [...] Oh, hi Mum. [...] Yeah. [...] No, just did homework most of the day. [...] (exasperated) Yes, he's still alive! [...] Okay then. [...] No, not yet. [...] Yeah, that sounds fine. [...] Just get one of each. More leftovers for Dad's breakfast, you know. [...] Okay, we'll see you then. [...] I love you too. [...] Bye."
When she returned to her seat, Hermione relayed the phone call. "That was Mum. She and Dad are running late. The two of them had a brother and sister for their last appointments. Two kids full of rotten teeth, even by the Brit standard, as Mum described it. They're only now just leaving.
"They're going to pick up a couple pizzas on the way home. Neither of them really feel like making anything. Besides, we haven't had pizza for a while. Dad just loves cold pizza for breakfast," Hermione explained, smiling as she shook her head slightly.
A half hour later, Hermione had questioned every answer correctly (yet another thing Harry was impressed by; he only got about a quarter of them right). Not really caring what was on next, they continued to watch the same channel until Dan and Emma pulled into the drive. After helping them in the door, Harry and Hermione went and set the table while her parents went up and changed out of their work clothes.
Three slices of Super Pepperoni later, Harry was quite stuffed and ready to enjoy the rest of the evening. With little time to think about their evening plans, everyone agreed on another movie night. Heeding Harry's request to not make all the decisions (relayed by Hermione while he had his mouth full of pizza, therefore unable to object), Emma chose the movie tonight.
"The Princess Bride is one of my all-time favorite movies, Harry," Emma explained after everyone returned to their movie seats from last night.
After the movie, since it was still relatively early and everyone felt too lazy to do much of anything else (and there wasn't really anything on TV worth watching that night), Emma decided to break her own rule and retrieve from their room the novels she and Dan were reading. The two of them again settled into the love seat.
"If we're going to break the rule, we might as all do it together," she explained to Harry. Hermione went up to her room and fetched her copy of New Theory of Numerology. Even though he had been reading all day long, he didn't really want to be the odd man out. He went upstairs and retrieved his trusty (and well-worn) copy of Quidditch Through the Ages.
When Harry came back downstairs, he found that Hermione had once again reclaimed her favorite studying and reading seat. This'll be fun, Harry thought to himself with a grin as he settled on the other end of the soft. He envisioned some kind of game of musical chairs (but without music or chairs...) with him and Hermione battling for control of that one particular end of the sofa.
As Harry opened his (only) favorite book, his eyes suddenly landed on something he had seen before, but never paid any attention. "Hermione? What was the name of Madam Bones's replacement? Scrimegour?"
"Scrimgeour. Rufus Scrimgeour. Why?" Hermione asked.
"Oh, I was just wondering if he was related to the guy who wrote The Beaters' Bible. See? It's not that common a name, is it?" Harry asked as he handed Hermione his book.
Sure enough, Hermione found as she looked at the printed praise for Quidditch that The Beaters' Bible was written by one Brutus Scrimgeour.
Hermione seemed very impressed by Harry's observation. "I don't know, Harry. They could be related. It isn't a common name. Then again it could be just a coincidence. We could look him up when we get back to school, if you want," Hermione offered.
"If we do," Harry considered, "we'd probably have to do it the day we arrive on the train. Somehow I have the feeling," he said cynically, "that we might not have time for little research projects like that this year, what with starting N.E.W.T. courses and all."
After about an hour, Dan and Emma decided they would head up to bed. A short while later, Harry decided he had had enough reading for one day (he knew there would be plenty more over the next week or so).
"I'm going to head up and see if Hedwig has returned yet," Harry told Hermione. She looked at the clock.
"Yeah, I think I'll head up too," Hermione agreed. "I'll finish this chapter in my room. Let me know if you get any replies back."
Harry found that Hedwig had indeed returned at some point in the evening. Tied to her legs were two letters. After he removed them, Harry went down to Hermione's room. He knocked on her door and waited for her to answer (she stuck her head out from behind the door); he told her that Hedwig had returned with replies.
"Okay, I'll be there in a second," she told him.
Imagining (No, wrong word, Harry told himself) Assuming she was in a state of partial undress behind the door, Harry hastily retreated to his room. Not wanting to put her in the same position, he decided to just sit down at the head of his bed. He'd wait to change until after she left. A few minutes later, Hermione entered his room in her pajamas and wearing a bathrobe. Harry opened the letter from Neville first.
Harry,
Thanks for your letter. Gran and I are happy that you are feeling better. I got a new wand by the way!
If you really think that an official account of our trip to the Ministry would be beneficial, then of course I would be more than happy to help write one. Believe it or not, I actually kinda like writing sometimes.
I can't write too much more now. Your owl is standing here waiting for me to finish. I assume she wants to take my reply. I'll start and let you know if I have any questions or problems.
My grandmother says hi!
Thanks,
Neville
"What was that account he was talking about?" Hermione asked.
"I asked Neville if he would be interested in writing up a record of our little excursion to the Ministry. The only thing out there is Fudge's version of what happened. After reading Neville's thank you letter, I got the impression he might be a good writer if he was just a little more confident about it. Besides, goodness knows I have no desire at this point to write something like that. I thought it might be something he would be good at."
A warm smile came over Hermione's face. "Aww, that was so nice of you Harry." Sheepishly grinning, Harry now opened Ron's letter.
Harry,
Mate, so many things to say. So little time. Hedwig's sitting on Errol's old perch, watching me write. I think she wants to bring this back with her. Oh, Errol finally died, by the way. Everyone was sad. Combine that with Humongous Bighead's return and it's been a LONG couple of days.
I heard about your new living conditions. Good luck! You're a braver man than I. At least you'll get your homework done! Ha ha!
Mum and Dad want to wait to see you in person to talk to you. You know what that means. Wear your jumper as padding for the hugs, and don't eat for a week before you come.
Ginny's been bugging me to use Pig. I think she wants to send Hermione a letter. Oh, by the way. She broke up with Dean already. That didn't take long! I know she said she was over you, but I think she wants to say thanks in person too. (hint hint)
Gotta go. This house was bad enough last year, but now... with you and Hermione not here, it seems too empty, but with "You Know Who" here, it seems way too full. Well, at least it's safe. I suppose you know all about that too, considering where you are. Hope to see you soon.
Oh, you'll never guess what happened!! Loony Lovegood sent me a letter a couple weeks ago! Can you believe it? Wasn't much, she just told me that she was headed off to Sweden and told me all about what they were planning on doing. I'll write again after Pig gets back from Hermione's. There's more, but I'll tell you later. I think Hedwig is getting impatient. Pig is going bonkers like usual. Hedwig won't let him anywhere near her. It's hilarious!
Ron
Chudley Cannons Rule!
"'Living conditions'?? 'Good luck'?!" Hermione bristled. "Well, at least he didn't say anything too revealing in the letter. After Professor Dumbledore cast the Fidelius Charm, I wrote them a note telling them that you were staying here. He delivered it to them personally. I told them to always write us separately and send with separate owls, just as a precaution."
"What do you think about that, Luna sending Ron a letter?" Harry asked Hermione.
A sly grin played across her face. "Well... if she's doing what I think she's doing, then it proves why she's in Ravenclaw. And you can't say this to Ron. Promise?" Harry nodded.
"I think she's trying to get Ron's attention. She's, if you'll forgive me, trying to weasel her way in under his radar. She's simply sending him a letter, talking to him. Nothing too forward that might scare him off. Just trying to get him to see her as a real person. That's what I think, at least."
The really strange thing about it was that it all made perfect sense to Harry. "Well, I guess we should wish her luck then, huh? I have a feeling she may need it." The two of them shared a knowing smile.
"So, um," Hermione started uncertainly, as if she was unsure if she should ask what she was about to. "What do you think about what Ron said... about Ginny?"
Harry let out a sigh without realizing it. If Ginny did fancy him again, he didn't want to disappoint her again. He wanted to be able say that he didn't know what to think or feel about it. But he did know how he felt about it. And he saw no point in lying about it. That, he knew, would only make things worse if he was ambiguous or in any way led her on, even unintentionally.
"You too, huh? What's the expression? 'Tread lightly?' I just hope I'm reading more into what Ron said than what's really there. It was nice last year, having her act normal around me.
"You know, I think I got to know her better more last year than all the previous years combined. It seemed like she hardly ever said more than two words to me before."
Harry paused for a moment, and then took a deep breath. "And besides, she's Ron's little sister. Isn't there some rule against dating your best mate's sister? And I've practically known her since she was ten and begging Mrs. Weasley to let her see me on the train my first year. Ron's like a brother to me. Ginny almost feels like my sister. I mean, how weird is that?" Harry paused again for a moment.
"With you, at least-" Harry started absently, before stopping suddenly. He was about to explain how, hypothetically speaking, it wouldn't at all be weird if Hermione was his girlfriend. Unlike Ginny, Hermione wasn't Ron's sister, so that covered the whole best-mate's-sister thing. And Harry never really ever thought of Hermione as a sister. She was simply his best friend... who just happened to sleep in the girls' dormitory.
But as soon as he realized what he was about to say, he froze. He suddenly realized that, until that moment, he had never really considered that fact before: Hermione WAS a girl. Sure, he had eyes and he knew perfectly well that Hermione was a girl, and a very pretty girl at that (as he discovered yesterday). But he had never really thought of her in that way before.
When Harry met Hermione, girls weren't really anything special to him. They simply had longer hair and did strange things like go to the bathroom in groups. By the time he had figured out that girls were different and why that was a good thing (sometime in third year), one had already caught his eye: Cho Chang. And from that point on, until about a month or two ago (he wasn't entirely sure when that changed), Cho was the only girl he ever noticed.
But now... now with Cho out of the equation, things were different. There were other girls in the world. And there was a very pretty one sitting in front of him on the other end of the bed, trying to figure out what he had just said.
"What do you mean 'With you, at least'?" Hermione asked immediately.
Damn! Damn! DOUBLE-DAMN! Harry cursed himself. The instant those words came out of his mouth, he knew Hermione would seize upon them. THINK! he shouted at himself.
"Erm, what I said..." Harry stuttered, "what I meant was..." He was crashing and burning. Something! Anything! Finally, something came out. "I was going to say that at least you don't have to worry Ginny fancying you."
Harry's stomach sank. That made abso-bloody-lutely no sense, AT ALL! Harry was quite sure his face was as red as a tomato right about now. This is worse than when I smelled her hair and thought about her and the Prefect's bathtub. NNNOOOO!!!! Stop it! Think unsexy thoughts! Think unsexy thoughts!
Steeling himself, Harry took a deep breath. Maybe he'd get lucky. Maybe Hermione would believe his ridiculous response. Maybe she'd miss the fact that his face was on fire. At least she's not a Legilimens, Harry consoled himself. He finally looked up at her. She was looking at him suspiciously. She's not buying it... He knew he was doomed.
Finally... "Well, that's true, I suppose. I know Ginny well enough to be sure of that." That certainly didn't make Harry feel any better. On the surface the words were exactly what he wanted to hear. But, there was just something in her eyes and in her voice that told him otherwise. Something about the way she emphasized "Ginny" warned him that what she was really saying was "I know you well enough to be sure you're lying."
But, whatever she did or didn't know, she didn't call him on it. He was safe (for now). How long would that last? How long until he stuck his foot in his mouth again?
To Harry's great relief, Hermione decided she would go and finish her chapter and then turn in for the night. After she returned to her room, Harry changed into his pajamas, turned out the light, and climbed into bed. For the next half hour until he finally fell asleep, he replayed that scene over and over again, trying to figure out what went wrong. He also pondered his little "Your face is perfect" blurt.
At least, he told himself, I know THAT just came from seeing her picture yesterday. Yeah. And that foul up just a minute ago? That was just me realizing a silly, tiny, inconsequential little detail like the fact that, by definition, Hermione could be a girlfriend. No big deal! Right? Ron must've already figured that one out. HE'S the one who fancies her. I'm just catching up now that Cho's gone. Just call me Captain Oblivious!
Now that Harry had convinced himself that everything was okay, he finally fell asleep.